What happens when I pay attention to politics

Is it just me, or is Dick Chaney like, 50 times more frightening in high def? Jesus Christ, if there was one person I would NOT want to take along with me as I did the handshaking, baby-kissing thing, it would be that man. I bet the boogie man scares his kids by telling them that there's a Dick Chaney hiding under beds and in closets just waiting to gobble up bad little boogie boys and girls.

Also, I would just like to say: Nancy Pelosi, thank you. Not only were you the perfect compliment to the gargoyle who stayed perched on the left side of the screen for much of the State of the Union, but, um, you've finally given horny young men every where a reason to watch this thing. Powerful women are SO hot. Well, except for Reno. I still have nightmares about her...

To make things more entertaining (and to keep me focused) I'll try to keep track of how many times Pelosi and Chaney blink. You know, just for shiggles.

But why, pretty lady were you looking like Bush's cheerleader? Jimminy, the way she applauded reminded me of when Grandma was still alive and would occasionally go into crazy clapping fits because she thought we had the clapper. We didn't. One of the kids would usually turn the lights on/off eventually cuz watching Grandma have a clapping seizure got kinda old, kinda quick.

Great shot of Hilary Clinton with her "I can't wait till I'm president and get my one free kill" look on her face. Meanwhile Senator Obama looked like he was nodding off. I bet he was thinking, "Damn, I was giving better speeches when I was three. This guy's president? For real? Damn."

Haha. Crazy talk about education. Of course he wants to leave the power in the hands of the communities and local schools. That way the government takes even less responsibility. Stupid partisanship. I wish we had NCLB when Bush was in school, then maybe he would have gotten some of those special services instead of his family having to buy his way out of school.

Dammit. I like the health insurance reform bit. I wonder who thought it up? Jeb, for the millionth time: George will NEVER learn if you keep doing his homework for him! Pelosi, seriously, calm the fuck down. No more caffeine before public appearances. Understood? Good.

Haha, Kerry just stood up. He had a "I lost to him??? I can't believe I lost to him" look on his face. Why does ABC feel the need to show people at the most awkward times? Do they pay a guy to just scan the crowd and say... "there! Right there! Oh, that's the one. (S)he looks really uncomfortable. Let's get em on TV." Um, I'm not 100% sure, but I think McCain just winked at me. Right back at you, soldier. You sexy, sexy man.

I don't even know who the silver haired fellow they just showed was. But I thought that it was pretty funny that even before he finished applauding he was already averting his attention to the pamphlet he had brought along.

I'm worried now. Chaney's smirking. Somewhere in America, a virgin has just been sacrificed.

Oh, here we go again with the terrorist talk. "To win the war on terror we must take the fight to the enemy." Hmmmm, now if we could just figure out where terror has been holed up all this time, we could REALLY sock it to The Enemy. Maybe we should put Justin Timberlake on this. Hell, the man brought sexy back. I'm sure he can pinpoint the location of "terror" and "the enemy" and we'll all be home in time for dinner. First you show us Janet's nipple and now this? God bless you, Justin Timberlake. God bless you.

Volunteer civilian reserve corps. Um... Thanks, but no thanks. This is one of those things that starts off great. You know, like paying to see a man or woman make love to a horse for a certain friend's 21st birthday. But 9 times out of 10, everyone starts to feel like, gee, maybe this ISN'T quite as great as we thought it would be when we drunkenly dreamed it up at 4AM AFTER splitting that 8 ball. So, ladies and gents, can we please not applaud this one? Please?

AFRICA! Big ups! AIDS, um... big downs? But on the plus side, a lot of people seem to look really, really good in red. And we have AIDS to thank for that. See. The old me would not have been quite this "look on the bright side"ish. The only thing that would have made this better was if Mutumbo actually went to the podium and gave a brief speech. Christ! Was I the only one who expected him to yell "Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum!" When he stood up and was about two feet taller than the Bushes? This is why I watch this stuff, people. Oh, and Mutumbo, the Bushes? Really? Seriously? Eh.

I guess this is the part where Dubya just gives shout outs to all his peeps before wrapping shit up. I thought it was pretty cool that Wesley Autry (a.k.a. subway hero guy, um, no not Jared... the OTHER subway hero guy) got invited and he got a huge applause. I thought it was even cooler that he started pointing out various people in the crowd like they were part of his posse and he had just won best new rap artist of the year. Comedy. High Comedy. State of the Union.

Oh, and for those of you who were curious (you know who you are) final blink tally: Pelosi 45,798; Chaney 2. How freaky was that? Yes, how freaky was that, indeed?

Build a bear? Build a kid!

So. Apparently we've just about reached that point where life imitates art. Don't you love it when life imitates art? Like people start singing about crazy shit and then you have school shootings (so of course it's because of the crazy shit the kids have been listening to. Two and two make four right?) I mean, personally, I've been listening to crazy ass lyrics since I was like 10 and I'm a relative maladjusted individual. But I've never had the urge to do anything TOO crazy. At least not to others. No, all my damage is self-deprecating.

But where was I??? Something about life imitating art. I especially like it when life is like a Dali painting. But that usually only happens after a really good buzz. Which hasn't happened in a while. Honest. I swear. Officer, this isn't even my car. I borrowed it from my grandma, and she has glaucoma. Apparently, we're almost to the point where we can genetically engineer a kid, like in the movie Gattaca.

Some people are saying this is so unethical and it's such a horrible, unnatural thing. And to them I say, "I love the movie Gattaca. The movie Gattaca is an entertaining, insightful science fiction movie. Also, the movie Gattaca is just Gattaca, but I think it adds to the depth of the movie if I refer to it as the movie Gattaca." Also, think about how cool it would be to have a kid with one green eye and blue eye? They could go around hypnotizing people and making them do funny tricks. Not malicious tricks, though. No one likes a multi-eye colored hypnotists who uses his/her powers for evil. That shit's just not cool.

The claim was that people would be able engineer the easy things like eye/hair/skin color, height, general body type first and eventually we'd be able to do the same with intelligence, demeanor, personality, etc. I can't wait. I bet there'll be huge baby cannels and prospective "parents" will rummage around looking for the perfect child/pet. Who knew there'd eventually be something to replace tiny shivering dogs as the most have fashion accessory. Although I have seen those baby leash things, you know, the one where the kid is strapped into a harness and the harness is attached to a leash and some idiot parent is leading his/her kid around and saying things like, "C'mere, Spot! Sit, Spot! Good boy!" Now, it is my personal opinion that if you make you child wear a kiddie leash and then also name him Spot, well, you're just an ass.

And of course you know they'll be those antiestablishment types who will want to prove a point by engineering some incredibly dumb, incredibly mean, incredibly ugly, Quasi Modo kid. Um, maybe it's even happened in certain parts of Philly, but that's neither here nor there. Well, I've gotten to the point in my rant where I don't remember exactly what the point I was trying to make was, so I'll have to wrap it up.

We're getting to the point where life will imitate art. I pray God it's not directed by Mel Gibson.

God Help Us All

So, Nas recently took a lot of heat for declaring that hip hop is dead. Well, while it may not be dead, it is definitely wasting away in some understaffed, resident abusing nursing home. The stuff that's getting play flat out sucks and the stuff that doesn't suck never gets to see the light of day.

Even with all that I was doing fine living off the scraps that get put out every now and then: the Nases, Mos Defs, Talibs, Commons, and so on. But after seeing this video I'm already looking for a dark suit to wear to the funeral.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1KUzFGMLMC8

That's right, two things that should never EVER be associated under any circumstances. When the fuck did this happen? It's a shame that Kool Herc had to be alive to witness this. It's a bigger shame that hip hop is turning over in its grave.

Hip Hop is dead. Long live Hip Hop.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vrzy4Bp_k2Y

Here we go again...

So, I've spent the whole day feeling pretty much blah. At least the depression's been kept at bay, but still today was a toughy. As I was listening to my top rated songs on the ole (and it does feel like old, since about a month after i purchased mine they started making them with color screens and video capabilities. Fuckers) iPod. Anyway, I thought the song pretty much summed up how I was/am feeling.

Take Me by Jean Grae

Oh lord, I'm having issues, more deep than American missiles
Shooting commuter planes and filing 'em missions official
I've hit depression hard and started to pick at the scabs
From the scar, I'm a mess addressing pain in a bar, I confess
'Cause all the rest just mar shit, chest in a cast
Feeling urges just to test out a casket, bless me I'm blasphemous
Jesus pass the fifth, I...have to get lit
Masochist self I'm only half of the health I was born with
(Baby) Save me, take me up high like 'dro
But way far past the stars and the sky
I'm blinding pain like I'm a junkie shooting up with
Emotional novacaine, I'm floating provoking the angels to jump me
In Lehman's terms, face been blurred, even early
I scratched crayon in between the holy word I pray on, but still
(Baby) Three gone, and maybe I'm in barren land
God help me, I'm having trouble with your master plan so

Chorus:
(Take Me) Through the shadows of valley of death, God
(Take me) when I'm shooting, taking last breaths hard
(Baby) I want to walk through the valleys praying lord
Will you help me, save me God, won't you tell me, tell me
(Take me) 'Cause I'm losing my faith, bless me
(Take me) 'Cause this world just want to test me

You see this dirty knife on the floor, this chrome nine in my hand
These foul thoughts in my conscious, constantly understand
See we taught to believe if you can touch it and see it, it must
Be real so go believe it. But I've never seen Jesus
I've never seen God, so he's only a thesis
And I'm questioning all these things in my time to depart
I know it's written suicide is giving hell and devils privilege
Only wicked heathens commit it, sin of ages, well fuck it, bring it!
Lately I've been waking early mornings screaming
"Save me," dreams of seven horsemen chasing Jean, hastening speed
So I'm raising the barrel envisioning marrow
Splashed on the wall and polka dotting all my apparel
And maybe, Ginsu blades through skin will slay
And split thin veins instead of loading clips that spray
And if I'm meant to stay, then I'll just pass through the gates
And fall a long way back to Earth, so why don't you just

Chorus

You can see the pain twist my face from a distance
The body's windows glistening red hot from all of the indo
Thinking of my next of kinfolk, my mama
Opening doors, crimson billows spread out on the pillows and floor
I gotta block it out. I'm set on knocking out
Lock and aim and I'm dropping my frame quick when I pop in the brain
And if God's omnipotent, will he slip in and change
And move the pistol so it shoots out of range and the lead whistles
(Baby) Maybe he's just playing; it'll ricochet and cripple me
Strictly for questioning, give me life to the pain
Sickle shaped body bent in the middle, so little
Kids who pass me harass me and giggle. My figure's
Itching to touch on the answers. Hard headed like
Exotic dancers' nipples, picturing the bullets ripping the skin
On the mantle I'm holding, pull back and blow the wick
Right off the candle, throw a kiss and told the world how to focus
So now (take me...take me)

Totally like whatever, you know?

by Taylor Mali

In case you hadn't noticed,
it has somehow become uncool
to sound like you know what you're talking about?
Or believe strongly in what you're saying?
Invisible question marks and parenthetical (you know?)'s
have been attaching themselves to the ends of our sentences?
Even when those sentences aren't, like, questions? You know?

Declarative sentences - so-called
because they used to, like, DECLARE things to be true
as opposed to other things which were, like, not -
have been infected by a totally hip
and tragically cool interrogative tone? You know?
Like, don't think I'm uncool just because I've noticed this;
this is just like the word on the street, you know?
It's like what I've heard?
I have nothing personally invested in my own opinions, okay?
I'm just inviting you to join me in my uncertainty?

What has happened to our conviction?
Where are the limbs out on which we once walked?
Have they been, like, chopped down
with the rest of the rain forest?
Or do we have, like, nothing to say?
Has society become so, like, totally . . .
I mean absolutely . . . You know?
That we've just gotten to the point where it's just, like . . .
whatever!

And so actually our disarticulation . . . ness
is just a clever sort of . . . thing
to disguise the fact that we've become
the most aggressively inarticulate generation
to come along since . . .
you know, a long, long time ago!

I entreat you, I implore you, I exhort you,
I challenge you: To speak with conviction.
To say what you believe in a manner that bespeaks
the determination with which you believe it.
Because contrary to the wisdom of the bumper sticker,
it is not enough these days to simply QUESTION AUTHORITY.
You have to speak with it too.

I really like this poem... kids are cool

This poem by Nia Davis, a 17-year old junior at Northeast High School In Philadelphia, appears in Poetic Life, Davis' prize-winning play, which was produced by the Philadelphia Young Playwrights. The play is about a group of young women grappling with stereotypes.

"I Wanna"

I wanna hear a song not written to lower someone's self-esteem

I wanna live in a world where reality doesn't cut down on a colored kid's dream

I wanna write a poem where lyrically wise it's ahead of its time

I wanna go back to the days when you thought you were rich even when u didn't have a dime

I wanna be appreciated and loved not overlooked and shoved

Onto a bookshelf, where only the old and the worthless are placed

I wanna be proud to be black, and not ashamed to show my face

I wanna walk around a store and not be expected to steal

I wanna have people not give judgment and try to understand how I feel

I wanna be free

I don't wanna hear your opinions on what you think I should be

Just let me be me

That's how GOD intended it to be

You see

I wanna turn on the news without seeing something bad

Because in reality the news people are making money off of you being sad

I wanna be able to eat French fries all day

But instead I gotta worry about what my butt and thighs are going to say

I wanna live life to the fullest

Instead of turning corners and dodging bullets

I wanna be able to cross the street without having a drunk driver hit me

Walk through and alley without having a hormonal man rape me

I wanna be able to save all the children who don't have childhoods

Substitute reality for all the hopes in the hoods

Put food on the table

Knock down all negative labels

Love and be loved

Hug and be hugged

I wanna live in a world where racism wasn't even a thing of the past

And that the people in the white sheets never torture the people who sung free at last

I wanna live in a world were the name of your god doesn't matter

And the hearts of the tsunami victims weren't shattered

I wanna not have to write a poem where I have to say what I wanna do

I want good things to happen because they're suppose to

I wanna finish this poem and have it touch your heart

I wanna see families stay together and never fall apart

Most of all I want this world to be a better place

Where people are looked at from their inside and not just their face.

Hierarchy of Missing People

On Wednesday morning there was some minor breaking news. A pair of brothers had been missing for a few hours. The news reported that the brothers may have wondered off and no foul play was suspected. On Thursday, the same thing. And on Friday, the same thing: two brothers missing, no foul play suspected. It wasn't until Saturday morning that the news started to say police suspect foul play may be involved in the disappearance of the two brothers.

Did I mention that the children in question are four and two years old??? Since when does a four year old and a two year old go missing for multiple days before "authorities" decide foul play may be involved? The answer, when the two kids are Native American.

I mean, seriously, what the fuck? Did they think the kids were hot on the trail of a herd of wild buffalo? Maybe they had decided to go on a vision quest? I dunno. Heck, maybe it being the time of year when all Americans give thanks (and especially the Native Americans: thanks for the displacement, and the disease, and oh yeah, thanks especially for eradicating a whole civilization) maybe the kids wondered off to find some white people they could lend a hand to. I bet that's what happened.

Anyway, this whole thing got me thinking about the hierarchy of "missing persons" and "foul play". Basically, the higher you are on the social economic totem poll (sorry for the bad pun) the shorter you have to wait before foul play is suspected. For example: if you're a 20 year old white girl and no one has seen you in eight or ten hours, you'll be considered missing and foul play will automatically be assumed. Matter of fact, when I was in college, my friend Erica took a nap at the library after her 8AM class and the National Gaurd was on campus before lunch time. Simply amazing. Then there's a steep drop-off as to when a person will be considered missing, let alone have foul play brought into the equation. If you're black and younger than seven, you won't be considered missing until channel 6 news is running a story on your distraught family. If you're older than seven, well, you might just be S.O.L.

Apparently for Native American children the cut off age is two. That's right two years old. If you're Native American and older than two, you will definately be S.O.L. And I don't care how well you can track or be one with the earth. When a kid is two (or even four, for that matter) and no one's seen or heard from them for more than a day, it's time to think about missing with foul play. Shit, not even baby Locke and Sayid could go as long as these kids went without someone thinking "maybe there's something not quite right here."

Well, I can't wait to see how much press this story doesn't get. I'll try to keep up this story, but I'm pretty sure some teenaged, upper-middle class white girl will decide to take an impromptu ski weekend and everyone will forget about the little lost Native american kids.