Tagged rant

Divide & Conquer

I illustrated a kids book. It released in April. Two weeks ago, the author of the book and myself set up for a 3 day book festival here in Baltimore. The overall experience was cool, and encouraging. I shared conversations with a wide variety of authors, educators and creative minds. I was inspired, motivated and further receptive to the fact/truth that I’m on the path that I always wanted to be on — professional artist. Now for the sour moment. We shared a tent with 3 other authors — all experienced in navigating the book festival world. Two guys and a lady. On the 2nd day (I believe), it’s mid-afternoon and one of the guys just asks out the blue “so I looked your guys stuff up on amazon and I noticed it doesn’t have the illustrator’s name on there. Why is that?” I don’t remember the response we gave him. In that moment, half my energy was dedicated to suppressing a “man go the fuck head somewhere with that instigatin’ ass shit!”. I was in autopilot mode. His response was “ahh.. I just wanted to give you guys a hard time about something.”

I wanted to toss him in the harbor.

Tiny Fits of Rage

I’m leaving the market on Saturday, and I overhear woman say to the on-duty cop “Happy Saturday”. It was about a 40 yard walk from the door of the building to my car. And I was mumbling to myself during the entirety of that short walk “what the fuck is happy Saturday?”. Over and over. Once I closed my door, I lost it. “How the fuck do you wish someone a happy Saturday?” “On whose authority…” “ITS NOT A FUCKING HOLIDAY” “Bitch I had to work today, and I have to work tomorrow. Find some fucking happiness in that.” “FUCK IS YOU TALKIN BOUT LADY?!” It went on for about 3 minutes. It was hysteria, by definition. I mean, I wasn’t convulsing or anything. It was just me, talking aggressively to the steering wheel, mixed with some negro-giggles. I don’t have a wife or kids, so my free-time is whenever I feel like unplugging. And since I don’t really have to designate my joy/relief to a certain day of the week, I can’t fully relate to the “the weekends finally here” way of life that lots of people live. OR I’m just a grump. Don’t wish me a happy Saturday/Friday either way.

I Drank a Bottle of Primal Roots

I’m currently in that phase where I’ve had enough to drink to think I know it all but not enough to know for sure that I know it all so I’ll just talk non-sense until I’m stopped or someone stops me. The universe will most likely stop me. That’s how it normally goes. My mother turned 67 on Thursday. That’s old; from a human’s perspective. I don’t have the ability to communicate with trees(yet), so people are the closest thing I have to get to the not so recent past. Her stories are sort of cool to me now. Random thought leading into what I signed on to talk about. I don’t even know what the hell I was going to talk about. My phone died a few days ago and I haven’t been keeping up with anything that I would normally keep up with using my cellular device — which is EVERYTHING. I feel bad that I’ve missed the creation of a new hash tagged name. And that’s fucked up because the creation of said hash tagged name should be the real issue. Right? Right. This will be the 3rd time I’ve posted this quote on the internet but whatever: ..speaking of healing without speaking of love will always evade the truth. I read that and instantly thought of the various public figures on their “campaign trail” saying the police and the public have to start working together to build trust and blah blah blah. After reading that quote, I now (even more) say those here ye’, here ye’ calls for peace are bullshit. Telling the person who is constantly getting beat up to see the bully’s side of things is insulting. FUCK YOU to anyone that whole-heartedly supports a system that backs government sanctioned murders.

Death To White Supremacy

I don’t normally do prefaces on here because it’s my shit, and I can run it however I feel. But let me state: I don’t hate white people. They’re cool. They invent some cool shit, they make good beers and are always willing to start the wave at baseball games. 12% of my Tumblr is half-naked to fully naked pink toes. So with that being said, DEATH TO WHITE SUPREMACY. And it can take white privilege with it.

I’m not going to touch on societal news. Not because I think it’s being talked about by everybody too much — I think more people should bring more shit to the surface in regards to race and gender inequalities — but because I don’t feel like typing a book. I make too many typos for that and I refuse to be up all night re-reading my own words. I’m going to speak on a personal story.

I’m a contractor within a faction of the U.S. government that deals with the distribution of SSI benefits. With that job, comes a dedicated email address I use to communicate with the other employees. In my email signature,I have the following: my name, the name of contract company that severely under-pays me, my phone number and up until yesterday, a message that read stay black. It was bold and it was italicized. But with a font size not any larger than the rest of my signature. I’ve had it for months. Maybe a little bit before the murder of Michael Brown occurred. I partially did it out of amusement, so when I proceed with the story, just know that I sort of saw it coming.

Sunday morning, around 10, my division director comes into the office, which is strange because there were no major changes going in. She speaks to the woman I work with on weekends and then comes speaks to me. She says hello and then leans in and lowers her voice. Now, a few times this past year, she and I have had talks in regards to positions I’ve applied for that are in different buildings on the campus. So I thought maybe she’s got some application updates from some other big-wig she might be cool with. “Heeeyyy do you uuuhhhh have something ummmmm in your email uuuuhhhh about stay black?” (internal giggles commence). I tell her yes. She stammers through the next few sentences, basically telling me I have to remove it. This is a nice woman and I don’t really want to make her the first line of defense my grievances plows through, so my only question was “Did I offend someone?” More stammering, more ummms than fucking vowels. She basically danced around answering it. And like I stated, she’s a nice lady and probably felt a little uneasy approaching me about such a silly fucking request. I truly believe that only because before she walked away, she said “I understand (pause) but just replace it with something else.” Part of me IMMEDIATELY started thinking about how I could use this as a platform to expose some other foul shit I’ve learned about (like say the guy who had to cut his dreads to get a GS-12). Another part chuckled at the fact that little ol’ me made someone uncomfortable enough, that they complained and it somehow got back to my boss’s boss. There was also a part of me that didn’t really care, because I know how I feel in my heart and no one can take that from me. BUT ALL THOSE PARTS TOOK A BACKSEAT TO MY INNER JERK. It was selfish of me but all I could think was I’m going to get the opportunity to be vindictive, and mask it behind my own little war for freedom of speech. Man, I know Buddha and Gandhi itched for chances like this. I know they did. Endless rap verses zoomed through my mind, as I tried to find the perfect fucking 1 or 2 bars I could put in my signature. “No disrespect intended/but if you offended/can’t take it back/handle ya business” noo noo too antagonizing “if it offends you/its meant to/it’s that simple” noo noo too blatant Then I was going to use something with the word noir in it but I’m not cultured enough to think of anything that clever. So, I just settled for the happy mellow whale face:

^_____________^

I love that face. Anyway, I get to work today and settle in. I happen to see an email from my team lead who has been out of work because of personal issues but recently started teleworking. I won’t type what she said verbatim, because well, I don’t remember. But trust me when I say it was some tap dancing we gotta keep massa pleased type shit. I laughed. She also included the chain of emails that caused all this. Those emails included the initial rat, the rat’s division director — who we’ll call an opossum — and the associate commissioner. Now, to give you something to compare that to, lets say I was a White House staff member and this same scenario happened. In terms of chain of command, the speaker of the house was informed of my “unprofessional” email signature. That is how unnecessarily high up this complaint went. Mind you, I just wanted someone to make corrections to a failed piece of software. And that didn’t happen for 2 fucking days. I’m following protocol yet the bigger issue ended up being the offended sensibilities of a middle-aged white women. Now what’s really amusing to me is the associate commissioner’s response DID NOT MAKE ANY MENTION OF MY SIGNATURE. I’m willing to bet a small portion of my turd’s worth paycheck that he saw that email and thought “oh jesus h christ REALLY!?” or something along those lines. I don’t know how down-to-earth white men who make 200K+ a year verbally respond to weak bullshit.

The other thing that didn’t sit well with me was who they used to inform me of this wanna be transgression. Three different black women. Each in a different position within the division I work in. What’s the big deal, right? Corporations are modern-day plantations. Don’t let the paycheck fool you. Capitalism teaches greed and constant accumulation via the hard work of someone else. You can not run a successful (profitable) corporation (plantation) without employees (slaves) and management (overseers and help). And this is where I inject my (probably crazy sounding) mammy theory. (Hell, one might already exist) White bosses, usually men, need someone who can oversee parts of the business that they themselves can not always have a hand in because they are waaaay too far up to reach down. Most of the time, they employ other white men but there are other times where they specifically select black women. Why? Well, for some unknown cosmic fucking reason, black women, in general, exude a motherly vibe unlike no other entity on the planet. I’ve hugged trees. Didn’t feel the love. Black women are caring, understanding, compassionate, etc. But they also are good disciplinarians. Once again, speaking in general terms so bear with me. Also, because of the fact that black women have been treated like pure shit in America since…whenever the fuck the 1st black female was thrown onto american soil, nowadays, they tend to really go for self if/when they enter (read: get let into) the corporate world. It’s safe to say most feel like no one has their back — and its true, sadly. If you haven’t experienced the cattiness that is two black women in an office setting who happen to have slightly different agendas, then you’re lying or blind… or a blind liar. So, in order to maintain their appointed position, and possibly further advance within the system, generally they will follow orders with far less resistance than say another white man who is watching the throne, or the very rare black male manager who has to do shit to tone down his black masculinity (like shave off his facial hair and NOT listen to rap on his lunch break). My proposed mammy theory is not intended to dump on the hard work that many black women have done in order to get wherever they are professionally. I was raised by a single mom, lived with her, my grandmother (RIP) and aunt (RIP) at one point in my life. And as I’ve gotten older, my admiration of their strength (especially my mom) has grown continuously. But realize that, within a fixed system, accomplishments for black women and men are throttled. You’ll only get as far as the boss will let you. So my semi-frustration with how this particular over-blown ordeal was handled isn’t directed at the black female managers but at the system that uses them as buffers for prejudice, white privilege, a cycle of white patriarchal greed and whatever other devilish shit that happens behind the curtains.

I didn’t intend to type this much. Let me go eat dinner. Fuck corporate. Stay black.

Smarten Up Nas

Quick re-cap of the last 4.5 hours of my life, and how I almost constantly self-sabotage myself and how the universe keeps telling me to stay on course. So, the first Thursday of every month, my guys and I set up shop at a local gallery to advertise, sell and socialize. Today didn’t go quite as planned but that’s life. Anyway, I always have my camera on me, even if I don’t have it set in my mind that I’m going to use it. “Are you a photographer?” I got that at least 4 times. Ask me why I always reply no? Because I’m a slave to transparency and putting up fronts doesn’t sit well with me. But I shoot myself in the foot in a way because traction in the professional creative world can come in many forms, right? Right. Moving on, I had some posters in my car. Asked if it was cool if I threw one of my posters up behind the DJ booth. “Sure man, anything you want.” Poster goes up… “hey Ron, how can people get in contact if they want to buy one?” FUCK ME. Moving on. I come home, get settled in, grub and my focus shifts to one thing. One totally unnecessary thing. Nike x APC Frees. Yeeeaaaahhhh, I know they’re $150 and I could put that towards something more beneficial but I want those shits. Those shits? Sold out. FUCK ME. As I let out the last of a 47 second long sigh, 2 post-it notes come into my line of sight. One has product numbers for tubes of watercolor paint. The other has notes and pricing for portfolio site I have intentions to build. Why haven’t you built it already, you ask? Lack of funds. But weren’t you about to buy $150 shoes, you ask?

I almost constantly self-sabotage myself

IT IS A FUCKING SICKNESS, I SWEAR. I’m fixing myself though. I swear that too.

The Domino Effect of Crappy Road Ethics

Being nice is easy. I’ve heard/read that statement numerous times and I believe it to be true. I try to practice it, and I want to get to a point in my life where it is my natural state and reaction, almost on some muscle memory type of shit.

Rewind back to a few days ago, floating in a stew of traffic that is part rush hour and part results of an accident. As I approach the highway overpass, there are cars exiting the off ramp. Traffic relations are easy to maintain if everyone is patient and considerate (two key components in being nice [wild assumption]). But for some fucking reason, the science of proper merging is something a lot of people are totally unaware of. If a lane is closed, and signs are posted stating that, why is there always an asshole that hauls ass up to the point of no return? This particular day, I happened to be the individual who held that driver’s near future in my grip. I battled with myself. Part of me wanted to pull up and not allow this fucker to merge. They need to learn that you shouldn’t do dickhead shit like that. But, in trying to teach that lesson, I feel like I become the person I’m unnecessarily trying to punish. So, I put being nice into practice, by doing nothing. Easy. You would think the internal conflict would be over, right? NOPE. Not with me. I know that this person will find themselves in this situation again and approach it with the same thoughtless, selfish tactics. And I feel like I could have taught them a lesson. I COULD HAVE MADE THEM A BETTER PERSON lol… I’m like the dude who has the time machine and chooses everyday to not go back and kill baby Hitler.

Being nice is easy. Being nice all the fucking time is not… unless you get good at it. Practice. We talkin’ bout practice.

Why You M.A.A.D.

Been a minute. I was torn between writing about the grammy aftermath, objectifying women and… something else that won’t surface, so obviously, it was unimportant. If you’re clever, and noticed the title, you’ll pick up on where this is headed. I did not watch the award show. That was done on purpose. Two plus hours of celebrity circle jerking is not something I find entertaining. Live performances shown on tv are not actually live performances. I did not listen to Macklamore’s album. I do not know if it was better than GKMC. I do not care either. And neither should you. Entertainment, although displayed on a grand public scale, is really some personal shit. You decide what is ‘hot’ to you. You decide what is whack, to you. You deem what is classic… to you. How many of you listen to Scarface’sThe Fix? The Source gave it 5 mics, by the way. I witnessed a countless amount of hissy-fits thrown, and it led to absolutely nothing in the end. I also played Money Trees a day or so later in my car, on the way to work, and (surprise) it’s still dope as shit. Sidebar: here is a video of the making of that beat. (Makes me wish I had an ear for production)

I went to pour a drink and lost my train of thought. I wonder who came up with that term. Who thinks in a relatively straight line anyway? Nobody. A robot, maybe.

Slut Shaming

120702-real-nun-secret-nude-photo

Do you participate in this activity? Why? What’s wrong with you? Are you some kind of prude? How could you be against sexual freedom? You want to be the only person to get your dick sucked? I wonder if a secret poll was taken, which gender would have the higher percentage of slut shamers. I’m willing to bet it is women. I have nothing solid to base that bet on (at the moment) but I feel confident I would win. I’m straying. That’s normal. Ask yourself though, what non beneficial thing comes from lots of fucking. The normal responses would be sexually transmitted diseases and hella babies. I stick my tongue out and make fart noises at both of those because they can both also happen with a low number of sexual encounters. So what else do you have nay sayers?

I’m STILL reading Sex At Dawn and in it, the history of promiscuity is discussed. It is a lot to get into since it is tied to the expansion of communities, agriculture and ownership, among other things. I would advise any and everyone to read that book.

I’m literally writing this entry in sections, over the course of a few days. These thoughts are scattered.

Fuck this. I think I made my point. GROUP HUG MOTHERFUCKERS.

Land of the Phony, Home of the Hypocrite

I typed this earlier today on my phone, while I was at work, and saved it in my drafts. Instead of editing it and changing the subject/verb tenses(?), I’m just going to leave it as is. My feelings haven’t changed over the course of 5 hours.

CNN is on, as it often is while I’m at work. Fareed Zakaria is discussing two topics with the anchor: guns in america and education. Here’s my summary of what I gathered from the closed caption. Americans are dumb and trigger happy. I’m kidding. Buuuuut, I’m willing to bet a good portion of the world has a view very similar to that. Apparently, the quality of education is not so good in lower income areas of the country. I am totally shocked by that. I mean, who would think that if you combine underpaid instructors, crappy facilities, inefficient/outdated learning tools and a boring curriculum, you would end up with an educational system that basically pumps out shit product. Not that I’m trying to dehumanize kids by referring to them as product but “hey look, a spade.” Then, there are the external factors, as opposed to the actual schools, like the living situation, the kid’s diet, medical issues, parental guidance and so on.

My take on guns in America is pretty straight forward. I think if one person is allowed to, then all people should at the least, be presented with the opportunity to own a gun. Now, if one person can’t, then no one should. That includes cops, doctors, dudes who drive bank deposit trucks, the man behind the thick glass at the halal market, Rusty who lives out in the sticks, whomever. What I find amusing, although not entirely humorous, is the things that this country does contradicts how it wants its citizens to live. There’s the heavy anti-bullying campaign that has been happening recently. That’s laughable since our armed forces are peppered all over the global, flexing muscle unnecessarily (drone strikes on huts and shit). Mrs Obama was spearheading a movement against childhood obesity, if I’m not mistaken, yet there are additives and chemicals in our food that other countries have banned because they directly affect the health of their citizens (i.e high fructose corn syrup). BANNED SON. If you turn on the news, they constantly run segments about terror and terrorist, both domestic and foreign. They will dig into reasons behind mass murders. Ask yourself, how many times in an hour did they show the planes crashing into the towers? That shit was on a fucking infinite loop. It is clear-as-day fear mongering. So, you’ve basically made guns seem like the most powerful tool for defense, then through media programming try to make your citizens feel like there is always a chance we will be attacked (“BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR…” aka be on the defense) and then say “Well, we’re gonna have to ask you guys to start handing over your tools for defense.” How can a person feel safe if they can’t properly defend themselves? Everybody doesn’t have time for Krav Maga. I’m not a “gun nut”. Honestly, I don’t really like guns but I think they are useful tools. I feel like the topic of gun control is as stupid as the war on drugs. They both are things invented by some people inside a power structure that play on a person’s need to feel safe and then in turn, end up fucking over those same people.

Also, Max B is a political prisoner.

Get This CREAM

We went from the barter system to the gold standard to, I don’t know, some other shit to just imaginary worth assigned to the thinly sliced guts of dead trees. Hot pursuit for the loot. Unless you are just a go-hard, fuck any and all repercussions type of person, which I am not, you have to first get neck deep in the system before you can be free of it. At least that’s how I see it. I could be missing something. I probably am missing something, and it is most likely simple, yet crucial. Maybe it will come to me in a dream. Sidebar, had a dream last night that I almost beat some dickhead teacher with a phonebook. I rarely have dreams that violent so I’m just as confused as you are. “He seems so peaceful” is what you’re probably thinking. And I am, which is why I was totally thrown off when I woke up. Anyway, back to the greenbacks and the reason for this entry. The saying ‘it takes money to make money’ could end up being the title of a chapter in my memoirs. If funds accumulated at the same rate as ideas, I would be waste deep in fabric pattern samples, silk screens, suede swatches and jars of hash oil. (Edibles rule all). Sadly, that is not the case. So here I am, with hundreds of ideas on paper, more plans than hours in a day and not enough dough to muzzle my impatience. Whiny bitch session over.