A. Adams's Blog, page 6

To Sum Up “President” Trump’s First Official Day in Office

Three words: Hello, President Snow.

Guess it’s time to get started on those archery lessons.

Enter the Dragon

The most memorable scene in the beloved 1973 kung-fu classic Bruce Lee’s “Enter the Dragon” is the mirror scene, where our hero, Lee (Lee), kills the uber-villain Han in the hall of mirrors–not before being cut several times before he finally figured out the truth to the illusion before him: “destroy the image [the reflection/what you think you see] and you will break the enemy.”

Now, today is the presidential  inauguration of  billionaire-businessman Donald Trump.  He will be the 45th president of the United States, with the promise to make “America great again–or greater than ever before.”

Excuse me, but when has “America” (the United States, that is–we tend to forget that the U.S. is not the only country in North America and then there’s South America–and nobody, especially Trump supporters–wants to be associated with THAT America) ever been great?

Was slavery great?

Was the departure from British rule/control great? Look at all that tea they wasted. Tsk. Tsk.

Was the Civil War great? It’s 2017 and Mississippi still hasn’t recovered from it.

Was share cropping great?

Was the Great Depression great?

Were lynchings great?

Were enlistments into WWI, WWII, Vietnam, etc. great?

Were the McCarthy trials/blacklisting great?

Was the Civil Rights Movement great? Maybe the outcome was, but definitely not the reasons it had to start in the first place.

Were the Gulf War and the Iraqi War great?

Was the Recession, especially the housing market crash, great?

Were the Oklahoma City Bombing, the 1993 and 2001 World Trade Center bombings, the overall damage done on September 11, 2001, the Boston Marathon bombing, etc. great?

Were Hurricane Katrina, Super Storm Sandy, etc. great?

Were the oil spills great?

Was the Flint water catastrophe great?

Were the shootings of unarmed black men by police officers (or want-to-be/wannabe police officers in the case of George Zimmerman) great?

Were the long prison sentences for victimless crimes, especially as they pertain to minorities, great?

Were the constant crimes posted on social media great?

Were the large number of sexual assault cases, especially on college campuses, great?

Was the prolific use of the N-word–no matter the f****** spelling–ever great?

Were homelessness, starvation, untreated mental illness, and abject poverty great?

And the sad thing is, this is the nadir. It would take probably another 30,000 blog posts–maybe more–to discuss the zenith of issues that made “America” not so great, let alone “okay.” Hell, the fact that Donald Trump is president challenges the United States’s claim to superiority.

Nevertheless, people see what they want to see and hear what they want to hear. Trump sounded good to you, and he began to look good to you. It’s like phone sex–the voice/message and fantasies created by it gets you every time.

So, he got you–a lot of you. Most of you protesters/backlashers are full of sh**. If you actually voted for Hillary, she would be president. You voted for Trump, or worse–you didn’t vote at all–and like all weasels, now you want hide behind a facade of injustice because it’s a better “look” for you.

But he’s in now. And we’re all along for the ride (I will say this: my life has not changed for the better or the worst because some schmuck was president; if you got through “W.”, trust me, you can get through anything).

Let’s see if he fulfills all those promises–let’s see if he can make the United States of “America”–good for EVERYONE for the first time in her history.

Being “great” is like a mirror, a reflection of an image that only rings true to me; and if we keep up this mirage, that somehow we were all well-off at a previous point in time, so we’re going to revisit it, and build upon it, then there is no doubt we will invite the enemy in.

And…

The enemy will destroy the image.

Top 25 to Watch on December 25

Because I have almost every DVD known to (wo)man, most of you won’t be able to watch the following unless you have Alexa/Amazon, Xfinity, and Netflix (or some other streaming service), so, if you can’t watch today, watch eventually. And, yes, the version/year does count!

1. A Christmas Story (1983)

2. Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984)

3. Die Hard  (1988)–none of the sequels–just the original

4. National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989)

5. The Ten Commandments (1956)

6. My Bloody Valentine (1981)

7. Problem Child (1990)–again, no sequels

8. The Monster Squad (1987)

9. Friday After Next (2002)–only because it’s Christmas-themed

10. The Bad Seed (1956)

11. Clue (1985)

12. Psycho (1960)

13. Gremlins (1984)

14. A Soldier’s Story (1984)

15. Better off Dead (1985)

16. Just One of the Guys (1985)

17. Friday the 13th 2-8; f*** the first one; Mrs. Voorhies is the killer and not Jason/the thing that looks like the guy from 1976’s The Town that Dreaded Sundown in movies 2-3 and the first part of the 2009 remake

18. Fresh (1994)

19. The Goonies (1985)

20. Kill Bill, Vol. 1 (2003); watch Vol. 2 only if you want to actually see Bill get killed

21. Harlem Nights (1989)

22. All Toxic Avengers (1984-)

23. The Color Purple (1985)

24. Murder by Death (1976)

25. The Heiress (1949)

AND IN THAT ORDER.

Eat: Anything you didn’t have for Thanksgiving; grill out or actually have “Chinese turkey” like Ralphie from A Christmas Story (I’ve done it at least twice for past Christmases). For dessert: cake or a sundae.

Drink: Water. Alcohol makes you look old.

Snack: Nuts, chocolate candy (any kind), and popcorn.

Happy Holiday Watching!

Things to Do on December 25

Everything’s–well, almost everything– closed today, so the only thing you can do is WATCH TV.

“Trumped”

As a lifelong South Park fan, I never thought I would say this . . .

I’m moving to Canada.

Guess it will build a wall next–for all the illegal Americans crossing the border.

Don King, you were right–only in America.

Mom, Dad, you were right–I can be president one day (I should have wrote my own name in when I typed in my candidate choice).

Apparently, anyone (except a woman) can.

 

Ain’t I a Woman?

–Inspired by Sojourner Truth

I have breasts–nipples and areolas.

And ain’t I a woman?

I pee sitting down, cramps make me frown, and life can slide out my precious crown.

And ain’t I a woman?

My legs are shapely, my thighs designed for that behind–that’s how you know if it’s made by Mattel or by Mama–full lips, and softly rounded cheeks, with a coquettish eye that will put Betty Boop to shame.

And ain’t I a woman?

My hair sits pretty on my hair–whether shorn, long, medium length, curled, straightened, permed, fro’ed, locked, dreaded, balded . . . from the store.

And ain’t I a woman?

Adorned in shirts, jeans, sneakers, skirts, dresses, slacks .  .  . a tutu.

And ain’t I a woman?

Catcalled and underpaid because the thing betwixt my legs doesn’t come with an appendage and I can’t do what HE can–ever.

Well, I can make life, give life, as well as take life. Can he? Not even close; not even a little bit . . . really, NEVER.

And ain’t I a woman?

“MAN’S” ANSWER: Yes, woman, yes, you are.

Then, “man,” what the f*** my race got to do with it?

Her and her and her and her, we’re all the same: human. And I have the right to be treated as such . . .

motherf*****.

 

 

 

 

 

If You Don’t Like Hillary or Don, You Have Other Options

This post is for anyone who has not cast his or her presidential ballot, and who are not willing to settle for putting “any old body” in the White House.

Weeks ago, I began “examining” the other candidates running for president, researching to see which political pair aligned with my desire not to throw up every day for the next four years in disgust (I felt like I slept walked through Bush II’s presidency, but damn if I don’t remember how he got there–Al Gore still looks like he hasn’t recovered from it).

So, if you care who will lead this country in less than two months, please do your own Google search on the following candidates:

For the Libertarian party, we have Gary Johnson. I think he’s a little “bomb-shelter” weird, but, hey, if that floats your boat….

For the Green party, we have Jill Stein; her running mate’s last name is Baraka (I don’t know if it was intentional or not), a Clark Atlanta University graduate, and has the term “radical” associated with him a lot. I don’t know if he’s related to literary great Amiri Baraka, but if he is . . . shit. They would indeed be a spectacular Oval office duo.

Then we have the Independent party candidate, Evan McMullin. McMullin has a “soccer mom” type running mate in Mindy Flinn. He’s 40, a Mormon, and a former CIA operative–doesn’t that sound like the premise for a good thriller–novel, small screen, or big screen?  I call dibs!

So, there you have it folks. The anidotes to Hill and the “Trump.”

Now, go out there Tuesday and be a good citizen… VOTE. And remember, you can always “write in” your candidates.

Aww, democracy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nice “Guyls” Finish Last–Hos Finish First

Let’s face it . . . hos are winning . . . and by a wide margin.

Donald Trump–married three times–the second wife being the woman he cheated on the first wife with–is poised–in two weeks, no less–to be the 45th president of the United States.

The United States of what?

“These” United States.

Of what?

Of America.

Which America?

North America.

Oh . . .

shit . . .

Bill Clinton’s cheating is legendary–like Ichabod Crane and Sleepy Hollow. And here, like Trump, o’l Billy Boy stands to enter the White House for a third term under the guise of “First Husband.” I feel sorry for the cleaning crew; now that he isn’t in the role of head honcho, he’s going to paint the walls, carpet, curtains, afghans (don’t start that sh**; it’s a lowercased “a”), etc. with his essence.

If Hill wins and you’re invited to a White House function, avoid every food that’s creme-filled like you’re a diabetic and your motherf****** life depended on your abstaining from such saccharine-induced treats.

And no need to save your soiled dresses, Lewinskyeezers; just stream that sh** on Facebook Live–no Linda Tripp required.

Since it’s Wednesday, I may as well incorporate my newest guilty pleasure–Queen Sugar (damn, you, Oprah . . . you and Ava got me–I am all in)–into the mix.

Ralph Angel’s ex’s and mother of his adorable son, Blue, drug addiction and piss-poor parenting didn’t stop him from going to the trailer park to hit that–even though it’s been everywhere and done everything. He disregarded the flirtation he had for weeks with Blue’s kindergarten teacher, who has babysat Blue and done a million other favors for Ralph Angel; the only time she turned him down for a favor was when she had to teach ESL classes to the disadvantaged on the weekend–can you say “Mother Theresa”?

Still, Ralph Angel ignored the good girl and went straight for the toxic ho who he knows is toxic and will never mean him or his son any good.

On to middle sister Charley–the “sports manager” who discovered that her husband, Davis, a professional basketball player, is embroiled in a sex scandal because he allowed his teammates to rape his long-term mistress/escort/ho. Mind you, Charley and Davis have that sappy high school sweethearts sh** going on and Davis depends on Charley for everything–like she’s his damn mama– but he still prefers hos over his wife.

Then comes the oldest, Nova, the journalist, the activist, the marijuana dealer, and a side chick. And Nova is the heart of Queen Sugar because she ties everything together, especially the divide between Charley and Ralph Angel.

The leeches–the ones who gained fame through their noteworthy relatives–I’m talking Kim K. . . . I’m talking Ray J.

Yes, Kim, I agree with Ray J., you should pay him a monthly fee for his Eliza DooLittling of you.

Is Paris Hilton still getting paid $1,000,000 a gig for deejaying?

So, my good people, stop being nice, stop having shame, stop being chaste, because hos finish first.

No “Clowning” Around

I’ve never liked clowns. Sh*t, my mama told me to never trust a man who wears more makeup than I do, especially one who has to “draw” on his emotions (there’s a remedy for you Botox users; Priscilla Presley, I just saved your life–you’re wel-come).

Then again, every clown I’ve ever known has always tried to (or did) kill someone…the ones from outer space (yes, the 1988 film that made kids fear eating popcorn–well, dropping it on the floor–probably a movie theater ploy to stop moviegoers from being such slobs–and cotton candy and b*tched out the venerable John Vernon; I still get queasy when the bulbous-nosed clown shakes Chief Mooney’s blood and other body parts from his hand post their Mortimer Snerd act), Pennywise from Stephen King’s It (I hate looking at storm drains on a rainy day), the one from Matlock that was super cute but allergic to wigs (p****), Bozo (those kids could have easily swallowed those ping-pong balls), John Wayne Gacy (enough said)…my ex…you get the point.

And for the last few months, there have been odd clown sightings in various states–some trying to lure kids into the woods, one stabbed a teen in a small Tennessee town, one put an elementary school on lockdown, one robbed a bank….

With Halloween right around the corner, I’m sure the clown paranoia will only increase. So, folks, you better keep your grandma and your Aunt Gladys–with their heavy makeup wearing asses–in the house, because if any of you goofy-looking bastards roll up on me, even at a godd*** birthday party, you’re going to have plenty of flowers that spray water–nourishing the grass that surrounds your grave.

With police officers suffering from “tricks of the eye” and mistaking a stick of gun for a 57 magnum, Donald Trump poised to be–sh*t, I can’t even finish that statement because it’s utterly ridiculous to fathom, let alone bring to fruition–Apple sucking people’s pockets dry with iPhone 999,999,999,999, etc., we can’t afford any more distractions.

It’s real out here, and there’s no room for clowning around.

 

 

B*tch, Are You Crazy?

“You’re having his baby. B****, are you crazy? I’M the old lady.”–Big Freedia

I think kids are great…for other people. I enjoy my childless beingness because at this point in my life, I am just too damn selfish to give my all to a little mini-me. And to be frank, children do not ask to be born. So if you make the decision to bring them into the world, you better be ready to give them what they deserve: EVERYTHING…your time, your money, your blood (vital organs you can spare as well), your sweat, and your tears.

With that said, please do not expect anyone else who is not bonded in sanguineness with your child(ren) to…how do I put this…well, damn, I can only give it to you all the only way I know how–straight up with no chaser–so, don’t expect anyone else to truly care as you do for your child(ren). I’m not saying he/she won’t, but when the relationship goes sour, it is doubtful he/she is going to keep up the sweet pretenses of parental nurturing he/she did while you two were together, especially when he/she moves on to another relationship, which may come with “new,” fresh off the assembly line children they now have to build a rapport with.

Thus, don’t expect non-biological individuals to love and care about your spawn as much as you do. You may be setting yourself, and your kid(s), up for disappointment in the long run.

And, another twist to this cap is, how the child or children came to be.

That is, were you in a relationship (steady or on-again, off-again, but you knew you wanted to end up with said person) with your significant other and had a kid, or kids, on them via cheating or during one of you all’s usual breaks (which is still cheating since you had every intention of getting back with this person)?

And there’s the rub!

See, if you have a child on someone and he/she–wisely–chooses not to deal with you again romantically, or even platonically, don’t you dare–if you still have their contact info–send him/her pictures of said child without asking his/her permission to do so.

I mean, hold up you selfish, narcissistic ho (genderless). I don’t know anything about your kid aside from you have one, and you had him/her by a person you “regret” being intimate with. LOFL!

You pretty much knew you were not compatible–the exception being the f******–with random child’s mother/father, and you STILL decided to have unprotected sex with him/her…on more than one occasion? Damn, it’s 2016…do you believe that a child is the “worst” thing you can get from screwing Syphilis Sal/Sally? And with all the condoms and birth control out here, super grown-ass people are still having children by “accident.”

Let’s be real…there are no accidents.

So, don’t try to throw your kid(s) in someone’s face because people are usually nicer when children are involved and you’re using your kid as a bargaining chip for that person to act civilly towards you.

But I have bad news for you…I’m not that mature–yet.

You fucked around. You just added another decade and a half of child support payments (if you’re a guy or a woman who lost custody to the father). You now have the rest of your life to be tethered to a “low-life”–I’m being PG-13 here.

So enjoy being the shit-stain that you are. Your pictures will not melt this iceberg. B*tch, I took out the “unsinkable” Titanic, what effect do you think the proof of your indiscretion and poor decision-making will have on me?

Answer: None whatsoever.