Dinosaurs are like Lotion

I have to give props to my 6 year old first grader. On her way home from school this week (yes, the school year has already started here!) one of the other first graders on the bus, from another school, wonders what happened to the dinosaurs.

My daughter decides to tell her. And says that dinosaurs went to hell with all the other bad people. They don't get to go up to the sky in heaven with the good people like "us." Basically, according to my daughter, they sunk into the ground and disappeared into hell.

The child with the query didn't quite understand - and my daughter explains it this way:

You know when you put on lotion in your skin ... and it just disappears? That's how the dinosaurs sink into the ground and disappear.

Seriously, I've got a child prodigy who understands decomposition better than most. And you know she's JACK's daughter because when I asked her about it, she said

"She asked a lot of questions, like a million - and I had all the answers. She's not very smart."

My job here is done.

JACK be nimble, but not quick

If you've been keeping up with my blog (and if you haven't, I'm on Google Earth right now mapping out your demise) then you know that this date was a nightmare. But I definitely keep him around because, well ... he's not afraid to spend money. I admit it - it's totally shallow of me, but the shallow of me needs an outlet and in my defense I have totally confined it on HIM. So, the rest of you don't ever have to worry about shallow JACK. He's well taken care of.

So, anyway - he tells me that he bought me something. Tells me not to be scared. And tells me he hopes it's the right size. So, I suspect he bought me a ring. And for a few days, I'm totally freaking out. And I practiced how I would handle it because 1) I was totally accepting the ring and 2) I was totally not going to make a committment. So, I had to play my cards right. Especially since the night before I was to go to his place to spend the night I went out on a date.

Long story short - he asked me for the THIRD time who was the nigga I went out with last night. (I had texted him that I was going to a dinner meeting). And I told him, "His name is Luis." So, his attitude totally changes and I'm annoyed with him. And we play this game until he admits that he's jealous and that he really doesn't have a right to be because we're not together.

*insert a wipe of the brow with a sigh of relief*

Then he admits that he went out on a date with an "Adam." I shrug. "How was it?" And I'm totally in the clear at this point. I'm not upset, or angry ... but he's still jealous. Whatever. He hands me a bouquet of flowers.

FLOWERS!

Do I even APPEAR to be the type of man that's into flowers? Do any of you out there think JACK wants something ELSE to take care of? Because I don't - I have a job in Chicago where I keep an apartment, a house in Indianapolis where I go every two weeks to spend five days with my kids, a car to maintain so that it continues to make the trip ... and the last mother fucking thing I need is something else to take care of and maintain. But I'm gracious and thank him and he gets a vase and fixes it all up for me.

Good, because them bitches were gonna stay bunched up in that rubber band otherwise.

Then comes the ring - and yes, I was right. It was a ring.

But it was silver and fit only on my pinky, although he wanted it on the ring finger of my right hand.

*insert another wipe of the brow and another sigh*

Well, I decide to give the festivities another chance - this would be the FOURTH attempt.

these closing paragraphs are the epitome of my life right now, so be prepared

You know how things can't seem to get any worse? Yuh, well - we're in bed and he's awkward as ever ... and then asks me to tell him the truth. Did I sleep with this guy yesterday? For all my faults, I do have some restraint ... and besides, I wasn't in the mood the day before. I said, "absolutely not. I haven't been with anyone but you, SINCE you." That was true. But I'm not sure that last time we were together really counts. (If you didn't click on that link at the start of this post, then you should to understand what I mean right there)

some of you straight boys who read my blog may find the following a bit too much, but I really need you to stay the course so that the title of this post makes better sense

So, he really seemed to like that response. And he totally became a man. He pounced on me, laid me flat on my back and started whispering, "I wanna fuck you." That shit is HOT. I was actually really impressed. Totally, really impressed. I thought to myself:

wow, he's really stepping up and mak .........

He interrupts my thoughts with an, "uh oh."

THAT'S why he bought them pills the last time ........

Stupid Shit Drives Me Crazy

I know that the old addage is that common sense isn't so common - but I can't get over how really fucking stupid some people are. And when I get to the point that I just can't stand the ridiculousness of these people ... I begin to believe wholeheartedly in Darwinism. For instance - who's the DUMB mother fucker that did THIS?!?!



I received this in an email - and it just made me furious. I can't explain why it made me mad, but it just did. I mean, don't get me wrong - I laughed at first but THEN ...

wwwaaaaiiiiitttttt aaaaaaa mmmmmiiiiinnnnuuuuuuttteeee!!!

some dumb mother fucker actually DID this

Oh Darwinism, please be true ... please be true ...

And then there's this photo, which you may have seen on Jaded's blog - I took it in Indianapolis, at the Credit Union. It was the terrible park job that got my attention, but the bumper sticker that got me to get my camera out.





Or how about the fact that I haven't seen THAT mother fucker since February and I just now figure out that his big feet done fucked up this pair of socks?!?!?




And then, my favorite - isn't it nice to know that if you need a package mailed REALLY fast that the post office has emergency vehicles?



I vented, but I don't feel better. SMH

JACK spies with his little eye ...

I'm at the office today. Yes, my sorry ass, no-life-havin', bored self got on the train early this afternoon and headed into downtown. When I got onto the train, I was surprised to see standing room only - but by the plethora of jerseys in the car, I knew there was a ballgame. So, I'd get a seat about half way to downtown. That's cool.

I stood at the back of the car, against the door and there sat a 10-year old boy with his dad, both lookin stadium-ready. They talked about random shit. Dad pointed out into the sky to point out a 747 flying overhead. The boy thought is was a triple-7, but dad pointed out that there were two engines on each wing which was a dead giveaway that it was a 747.

At one point, dad poked his son in the rib cage and his son fell out laughing onto his dad's lap, apparently very ticklish. And his father, wearing his baseball cap and shades (and flip-flops, because EVERYBODY here does that shit - but that's another post) actually kissed his son on his head. TWICE. IN PUBLIC!!! And I so missed my son right then. I wanted to squeeze him and squoosh him and hug him and kiss him and ....

ok, you get the idea. But in my defense my son is 4!

So, apparently, this is what White fathers do. By contrast, consider that on my way to the train station I stopped off at the diner to get a bite to eat. Let's face it - cooking for one is retarded. So, I had me two eggs, over easy with hash browns and bacon ... and an english muffin oozing and drippy with butter. It was just divine. (That's the gay way of saying it was fuckin good, yo)

On my way back to the train station - a Black woman was talking on her cell phone ... all loud and shit. I'm pretty sure she was African because there're a lot of African immigrants in my neighborhood - that and she was yammering some yiddish that the yids from yiddia don't even understand. But anyway, again - I digress.

Walking along side her - well almost, maybe three or four steps ahead as well - was a 4 to 5 year old girl, pushing a stroller with some younger version of her sittin therein. No conversation between the mother and children ... just momma and her yiddish into the cell phone and a child pushing a stroller with a half sad/half tired look on her face.

While I was waiting on the platform for the train, I sat next to this Black woman (this one NOT from Africa - well, not directly anyway) with her son. He asked her why the train that pulled into the station in the opposite direction was just sitting there with the doors open. She shrugged - he asked again. She snapped and said, "I dunno." Well, I knew - the train ahead of it had JUST left the station and on a Saturday this is most unusual. They're usually spread apart by 10 minutes or so on a Saturday. So, one could easily deduce that the first train was late, or this one was early - but either way, this one was sitting in the station to put some distance between itself and the train ahead of it. But momma to the 4 year old boy? She shrugged.

Seriously, people - can we pay attention to our children? Why minorities always gotta be ignoring the kids like they're some nusiance, some in the way-ness that we wish could just *poof* and be someone else's responsibility? And where are the damn fathers?!?!? WHERE!

I'm tired of this bullshit - we have come too god damn far to be fathers who are absent. I exhonerate all the dads who WANT to be in their children's lives but deal with the crazy baby mommas who put entirely too much energy into making an ex- pay for shit. You women need to stop looking backwards and move forward to what life can offer you, not to what it didn't. But AGAIN - I digress. FUCK.

Absent fathers - I mean - where the fuck are we? There's a little boy out there who just wants to go to a ball game, who wants to talk about the world as he sees it, who wants you to tell him the difference between a 747 and a triple 7. And hell - maybe he knows you don't know the difference either and all he could use is simple smile, some eye contact and an I love you. Maybe there's a little girl who needs a daddy to treat her the way boys are supposed to treat girls so she knows to punch a nigga in the eye when he crosses lines. But, whatever - where are the parents of these minority children who want and need attention and directing towards positive things in life?

1. In jail (with Kwame)
   
2. Getting her nails done by Koreans
3. On the corner with some drink in a brown paper bag
4. Playing video games
5. On the phone wit' shequita about what rhonda did with malik
6. Or on the phone with Mercedes talkin about what Carmensita did with Jose
7. Gettin a tatoo
8. Gettin a fade, or extensions or her hair blown out
9. Watchin Maury
10. Slavin over a hot stove so Paco don't beat her for not doing it again

But we're not on a train pointing at a 747 talking about, "I'm a take you in a ride in one of those one day."

We're not taking our daughters out on their first dates to show them the ropes so that they understand that they don't have to put out just because a nigga bought you a steak.

In silent absentia, we're teaching our kids that they're not worth our time ... and that they need to find attention and affection and love wherever the fuck they can find it.

And find it they will, people. And find it, they will.

But at least your nails look pretty.

But why he gotta be Black, tho'?

Kwame Kilpatrick - you is a dumb mother fucker. I mean, DUMB. Real mother fucking dumb mother fucker. That's what you are. And I have many, many, MANY reasons why.

First of all - this here mugshot got you with one eye all hard core and the other eye all stunned and shit. As if you were above going to jail. It's not like you're a white man, in the white house or anything. Dumb, dumb, DUMB mother fucker.

And please allow me to list just a FEW of the reasons why I believe you is a dumb mother fucker:

1. You had an affair while in office (Didn't the whole cigar in the White House thing mean anything to you? Senator Edwards, notwithstanding - I'm a get on him next - it's not something the proverbial "they" were about to let a Black man get away with! Seriously, how long have you been Black?)
2. You had said affair with someone you work with. DUUUUUDDDDEEEE, you *never* shit where you eat. NEVER. NEVER EVER EVER. For real, for real - name me ONE situation you know of where this worked out well ... go ahead, name ONE!
3. You used your work cell to send text messages back and forth with her, all lovey dovey and shit ... as if you weren't a public figure, with a phone paid for with tax dollars and the proverbial "they" (see parethetic notation to item 1 above) wouldn't snap their fingers in a minute to get the phone company to reliquish records. Did you really think that once you delete the text message out of your phone that those words sort of just flutter away into some e-abyss somewhere?!?
4. You lied under oath. OMG! At this point in the game, take your defeat like a man. If you already knew you were going to court, as most people who are put under oath do, it was time to tell your wife what you did and get on the stand and let it all ride. In case you didn't know, Mr. Mayor ... when you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing BUT the truth ... you can't lie.
5. YOU WENT TO CANADA! Seriously, you're like watching a fucking train wreck. Let me speak slowly for you, Mayor: When. You. Are. Out. On. Bond. You. Cannot. Leave. The. Country. And. Canada. Is. Another. Country. You get that, sir?
   
6. You assaulted the officer who came to visit your friend to SERVE HIM A WARRANT! Let's think about this. 1) Officer of the law. 2) Carrying a Warrant, or supeona, or whatever the fuck he had. 3) Black man assaults officer with warrant. In this three step process, can you tell which step poses a problem?

My one and final issue here is this ... you are a Black man that does NOT need to be holding a public office. I pray to God that you have some money stashed away, because I really don't want to see you filling my kids' waffle cone with soft serve ... but you cannot, MUST not be in office.

ESPECIALLY NOW!!!!!!!!!!!

NOW, AS IN AMIDST THE HISTORICAL RACE FOR PRESIDENT!!!!!!!!!!

Isn't this all the fuck we need? For white America to see a Black man in office, actin' a fool, commiting purjury, skipping the country while out on bond, cheating on his wife, and assaulting white police officers ....

For the love of God - GO AWAY!

whoJACKblack

I would like to play a little game. I don’t have the largest blog readership, but I do wonder what you all think – so comment away, but only if you’ve never met me in person.

Having read my blog so far – tell me, what do you think JACK looks like? What mannerisms does he have? How does he dress? Do you think he has any piercings or tats? Which ones and where? What color hair do I have? Eyes? How do I sit …do I cry easily? You know – just have at it.

I’m looking forward to read the comments from the brave souls who accept this challenge.

*gets shit list and an ink pen*

Black by Injection

For the longest time, I've claimed to be Black. It's my own terminology and definitely a JACKism. And I thought I would share a thought or two that ran through my mind since the last time I uttered these words.

An injection of Black doesn't automatically make you Black by Injection. I mean, it just doesn't. I've seen many a white gurl turning on the attitude and the turning up the volume and trying to be all hard because they fucked a Black dude ... and you can just SEE that they're trying. TRAH-RYYYYY-IIINNNNGGG. It comes across as racist rubbish, as if she can see how Black acts and emulate it ... as if it Black were an angora sweater you put on when you want to be all fancy and shit. Well, it's not. It simply is not.

I feel it's all about acceptance. I really have no qualms about walking in any neighborhood whatsoever. You know, one time I was stranded in Birmingham, Alabama (I curse Delta to this very day!) and was at the hotel bar. I needed cigarettes and asked the bartender where the nearest gas station was. He told me and it was a long ways, according to his "I drive everywhere I go" sense of distance, but I said I could totally walk it. He said he would be happy to drive me. So, he actually drove me. He was a little "Vinny" looking mother fucker with a high pitched voice and I almost died when this little dude pulled up in his Mazda Miata. Oh, what a sight. Well, I got in it and he proceeded to explain to me that he wanted to drive me because I would have had to walk through "the Black neighborhood."

I was mad on two fronts.

1. Who the fuck did he think he was projecting his racism on me! That shit pissed me off. As if that because I have an olive skin tone that means that I should automatically be afriad of Blacks. Fuck him!
2. You mean I coulda met me a brutha on the way to the gas station?!? And now I'm stuck in this little-man-syndrome of a car with VINNY?!?! AHHHHHHHH MMMMMMANNNNN.

So we got to the gas station and there they were! MY PEOPLE!!! Vinny walked in with me - I think he thought he was trying to protect me. And you know what? He made me feel less safe. That little mother fucker following me everywhere really made me feel like an eyesore. Nigga, I was fittin in just fine until you became my gas station shadow! I stalled, hoping the Miata would be on concrete blocks without tires by the time we got out there. But no - nobody fucked with his car. (It wasn't a Latino neighborhood after all)

But, back to my point. Black is not an angora sweater. (And, yes - I *had* to pick angora. I'm fucking GAY!). So, to all those who think it is: you totally look whack and no one really respects you. You either got the swagger or you don't. So, perhaps 'Black by Injection' is a misnomer. But I like it anyway.

But back to it being about acceptance. In my experience, the Black culture is the most accepting on the entire planet - for all the shit you can say about it (whether from within it or without it) I have got to say that I personally feel embraced by the culture. And with EVERY interracial couple I know ... EVERY LAST GODDAM ONE ... if there's one side of the family that's less accepting, it's the one that isn't Black.

Now about the term Black - some people prefer African American, and if that's you - don't put me on blast, please. The official PC term is Black (capitalized B) as defined by the American Psychological Association and so that's what I go with. I have to write all my damn school papers in APA style and so it just stuck. And if you're part of the Black co-culture that prefers the term African Ameripean - again, don't put me on blast. I know you exist and I know your opinions exist ... I just follow the rules I'm asked to follow by academia so I can get my damn Masters degree already

Whatever - I feel like I'm rambling now. Suffice it to say, I wear Black well and I don't mean it like I'm wearing rabbit. I mean that I am totally Black, by injection.

(which is why i say puerto rican is the new brown)

*poses*