G. Eric Francis's Blog, page 4
June 27, 2015
Daddy Farthest
It is a silent time in my household tonight. I am in relatively good spirits despite the fact that the teenager (he has moved past "The Boy") once again irritate me like poison ivy on a right testicle.
My dear spouse hit it on the head this afternoon in a text:
"You two are like oil and water."
Sigh...I wish it wasn't that way.
I wasn't fond of my old man for about 25 years. Thought he was an unreasonable, evil pube. We didn't play catch or do what American society would deem "father & son things." Besides being below average in baseball, I wasn't an athlete like him, didn't have his bravado or personality to draw folks to him, and i definitely wasn't well-liked.
Before my father got sick and lost his ability to communicate, we had one moment that I can say would qualify as a "thing." My girlfriend/future wife and I weren't dating that long, and I brought her home to meet my folks. Back then, my mother always called her "friend", even though we were living together at the time, and we had blown past the "friend" stage after our first date (feelings, folks...get your minds out of the porn section of the internet:)
Anyway, my mom being my mom got on me because I didn't own a suit at the age of 28, so she took my lady and I to buy me one.
While my mother attempted to bond with my Caucasian girlfriend, my father took me aside, placing his arm around me. Now the day before when we arrived, he gave me a quick "man hug", followed by a long hug to my future wife Carla was taken by surprise, while I had a "WTFF" (the 1st "f" was for "flying", as that I was stunned).
Anywho, we walked to a different part of the store, and in some silent sort of way, he gave the approval to my choice of female companionship. No words at all, but he smiled when I talked about this girl I had brought home.
Now I was very uncomfortable during all of this because my family ain't what you call the "huggy hug, Brady-bunch/Cosby w/o the real life ruthie" sort of family. I have tried to get my dad's approval for more than a quarter-century at that point, and I had given up at that point.
He then proceeded to tell me this NSFATTT (Not Safe For Anyone To Tell To) joke that included a racial epithet, manhood, and pigs.
I chuckled, even though to this day I have no idea why.
After we returned back to the ladies to finish picking out the suit, a smile crossed my face, because at that point I realized that my father looked at me as a man then, and for the first time in my life, all the animosity I had gone away.
Sadly his health deteriorated, and the opportunity to build a relationship went down with it.
Nearly 20 years later, history, as it always does (MUCH LOVE TO CHARLESTON SC THIS WEEKEND), repeats itself.
I am afraid that I also will become a bitter old man with shitty health, while my son just sort of says "whatever."
When it is quiet around here, memories like this flood back to my consciousness, and a mixture of sadness and smiles crosses my soul. I have a big soft spot for my oldest because he is just like me (except 50 lbs lighter and 100X better looking). No idea how to deal with people, focuses on the wrong things, smart as hell, but his attitude wouldn't have survived my era (my father would have removed the melanin with the ass whoopin's I would have received if I did and said the things he gets away with). I worry about him because he is so ill-prepared for what he has to face 5 years from now.
I wish kids weren't so damned stupid. I got lucky; for all of my various f'ups I had a safety net.
He won't be so lucky.
But more important than that, I wish my own bitterness and frustration for not being able to reach him didn't help build the unfortunately bridge that he is crossing.
My dear spouse hit it on the head this afternoon in a text:
"You two are like oil and water."
Sigh...I wish it wasn't that way.
I wasn't fond of my old man for about 25 years. Thought he was an unreasonable, evil pube. We didn't play catch or do what American society would deem "father & son things." Besides being below average in baseball, I wasn't an athlete like him, didn't have his bravado or personality to draw folks to him, and i definitely wasn't well-liked.
Before my father got sick and lost his ability to communicate, we had one moment that I can say would qualify as a "thing." My girlfriend/future wife and I weren't dating that long, and I brought her home to meet my folks. Back then, my mother always called her "friend", even though we were living together at the time, and we had blown past the "friend" stage after our first date (feelings, folks...get your minds out of the porn section of the internet:)
Anyway, my mom being my mom got on me because I didn't own a suit at the age of 28, so she took my lady and I to buy me one.
While my mother attempted to bond with my Caucasian girlfriend, my father took me aside, placing his arm around me. Now the day before when we arrived, he gave me a quick "man hug", followed by a long hug to my future wife Carla was taken by surprise, while I had a "WTFF" (the 1st "f" was for "flying", as that I was stunned).
Anywho, we walked to a different part of the store, and in some silent sort of way, he gave the approval to my choice of female companionship. No words at all, but he smiled when I talked about this girl I had brought home.
Now I was very uncomfortable during all of this because my family ain't what you call the "huggy hug, Brady-bunch/Cosby w/o the real life ruthie" sort of family. I have tried to get my dad's approval for more than a quarter-century at that point, and I had given up at that point.
He then proceeded to tell me this NSFATTT (Not Safe For Anyone To Tell To) joke that included a racial epithet, manhood, and pigs.
I chuckled, even though to this day I have no idea why.
After we returned back to the ladies to finish picking out the suit, a smile crossed my face, because at that point I realized that my father looked at me as a man then, and for the first time in my life, all the animosity I had gone away.
Sadly his health deteriorated, and the opportunity to build a relationship went down with it.
Nearly 20 years later, history, as it always does (MUCH LOVE TO CHARLESTON SC THIS WEEKEND), repeats itself.
I am afraid that I also will become a bitter old man with shitty health, while my son just sort of says "whatever."
When it is quiet around here, memories like this flood back to my consciousness, and a mixture of sadness and smiles crosses my soul. I have a big soft spot for my oldest because he is just like me (except 50 lbs lighter and 100X better looking). No idea how to deal with people, focuses on the wrong things, smart as hell, but his attitude wouldn't have survived my era (my father would have removed the melanin with the ass whoopin's I would have received if I did and said the things he gets away with). I worry about him because he is so ill-prepared for what he has to face 5 years from now.
I wish kids weren't so damned stupid. I got lucky; for all of my various f'ups I had a safety net.
He won't be so lucky.
But more important than that, I wish my own bitterness and frustration for not being able to reach him didn't help build the unfortunately bridge that he is crossing.

Published on June 27, 2015 21:11
June 25, 2015
I need a hobby to get my mind off of the flotsam that's floating amongst us
Hola my fellow blood-infused creatures.
This is my first blog since I left the laptop world (on the most part) and have gone to a combo of a hybrid Windows tablet and an iPad witth a bluetooth keyboard. While I miss my Macbook, I like the portability of the smaller computing devivces (even though once my eyes finally go to shit, I will probably have to go back to the bulkier alternatives).
Anywho, what am I going to talk to no one about today?
Don't get me wrong; I have had more than 40K in views on this blog over the years. Considering that I expected no one to read my raging, I am thankful for it.
The funny thing is as I am about to get on the slide down toward my 50's, I feel rather alone. I know there are a few folks who would at least attend my funeral when the time comes, most days (when I'm working, which I haven't done for a straight year in nearly 8) I eat alone or very little conversation takes place at home (unless I am venting my frustrations with my offspring).
It's hard to be happy...not only in my own personal affairs, but just with the world in general.
Shit has gotten uglier than someone in a bar before you start drinking.
I have ranted before about racism, bigottry, apathy and so on and so on.
But the biggest issue I have these days is that folks simply don't give a shit about one another. I mean the rudeness, the disdain some have for others is so sad. We have always judged people based on "1st impressions" (the dumbest idea since they rebuilt Yankee Stadium; I haven't visited the new place, but my team has sort of scuuffled since the magic of that old ball part was torn down). I am so guilty of doing this, but at the same time throughhout my life I always tried to give people enough rope to hang themselves. An asshole will start to drop shit eventually (and my apologies if you were just about to pop in a Hershey's kiss as you read that). You take out the entire skin color/religion/sexual orientation thing and all that is left is simple people; indiviuals who are either good or better left removed from your life like scabs.
Even though my mom said picking scabs is bad.
I get up every day, do what I have to do (either go to work or...geech...be a "parent"), hopeful that perhaps I will come across something that will reinforce my belief that the majority of us are somewhat good.
A lot of days I end up grotesquely disappointed.
I don't know folks...it sort of makes me considering giving up hope on all of us.
Then I look at my kids. One is a dual-diiagnosed mentally behind ball of love and violence. The other is a fresh teen who doesn't care if he doesn't bathe for days.
Then the little one says hi to any race, creed or orientation. The big one, when he isn't fighting imaginary wars, is a good kid. Gives me hope that perhaps we can survive before destroying ourselves.
A little, anyway.
This is my first blog since I left the laptop world (on the most part) and have gone to a combo of a hybrid Windows tablet and an iPad witth a bluetooth keyboard. While I miss my Macbook, I like the portability of the smaller computing devivces (even though once my eyes finally go to shit, I will probably have to go back to the bulkier alternatives).
Anywho, what am I going to talk to no one about today?
Don't get me wrong; I have had more than 40K in views on this blog over the years. Considering that I expected no one to read my raging, I am thankful for it.
The funny thing is as I am about to get on the slide down toward my 50's, I feel rather alone. I know there are a few folks who would at least attend my funeral when the time comes, most days (when I'm working, which I haven't done for a straight year in nearly 8) I eat alone or very little conversation takes place at home (unless I am venting my frustrations with my offspring).
It's hard to be happy...not only in my own personal affairs, but just with the world in general.
Shit has gotten uglier than someone in a bar before you start drinking.
I have ranted before about racism, bigottry, apathy and so on and so on.
But the biggest issue I have these days is that folks simply don't give a shit about one another. I mean the rudeness, the disdain some have for others is so sad. We have always judged people based on "1st impressions" (the dumbest idea since they rebuilt Yankee Stadium; I haven't visited the new place, but my team has sort of scuuffled since the magic of that old ball part was torn down). I am so guilty of doing this, but at the same time throughhout my life I always tried to give people enough rope to hang themselves. An asshole will start to drop shit eventually (and my apologies if you were just about to pop in a Hershey's kiss as you read that). You take out the entire skin color/religion/sexual orientation thing and all that is left is simple people; indiviuals who are either good or better left removed from your life like scabs.
Even though my mom said picking scabs is bad.
I get up every day, do what I have to do (either go to work or...geech...be a "parent"), hopeful that perhaps I will come across something that will reinforce my belief that the majority of us are somewhat good.
A lot of days I end up grotesquely disappointed.
I don't know folks...it sort of makes me considering giving up hope on all of us.
Then I look at my kids. One is a dual-diiagnosed mentally behind ball of love and violence. The other is a fresh teen who doesn't care if he doesn't bathe for days.
Then the little one says hi to any race, creed or orientation. The big one, when he isn't fighting imaginary wars, is a good kid. Gives me hope that perhaps we can survive before destroying ourselves.
A little, anyway.

Published on June 25, 2015 10:46
June 16, 2015
Opinions and an Anus
I have met and gotten to know folks who, while we may not agree on shit, we do have mutual respect for each other as people.
When I wrote 90 Things, I did it because while O knew folks may not agree with how I view the world, I hoped that folks would read it and respect it.
I look at some of the posts on the various social media sites that I follow, and while I have no issue with folks being passionate on topics (education, police brutality, hell, whether or not a movie sucked), I've always had an issue with folks who are so blind with their opinions it is impossible for them to see pass them.
For example, I feel that folks can't see that we need to change, judging each man, woman and child by their actions.
However some folks are so stuck in the view of "if one is guilty, they all must be" it hampers us as human beings.
One's opinion can be admired or ignored based on if they fit into what society legs as "normal" instead of at least listening to other thoughts even if it isn't the popular opinion.
That saddens me.
There are times that I wish to walk away from FB. Besides my own personal reasons, the negative side of social media is that all of a person's ugly is out there, protected by a screen and a keyboard.
It is cool to have an opinion.
It is not cool for that opinion to not have a crack in its doorway to consider that perhaps that opinion is more harmful to u and others than it is helpful.
When I wrote 90 Things, I did it because while O knew folks may not agree with how I view the world, I hoped that folks would read it and respect it.
I look at some of the posts on the various social media sites that I follow, and while I have no issue with folks being passionate on topics (education, police brutality, hell, whether or not a movie sucked), I've always had an issue with folks who are so blind with their opinions it is impossible for them to see pass them.
For example, I feel that folks can't see that we need to change, judging each man, woman and child by their actions.
However some folks are so stuck in the view of "if one is guilty, they all must be" it hampers us as human beings.
One's opinion can be admired or ignored based on if they fit into what society legs as "normal" instead of at least listening to other thoughts even if it isn't the popular opinion.
That saddens me.
There are times that I wish to walk away from FB. Besides my own personal reasons, the negative side of social media is that all of a person's ugly is out there, protected by a screen and a keyboard.
It is cool to have an opinion.
It is not cool for that opinion to not have a crack in its doorway to consider that perhaps that opinion is more harmful to u and others than it is helpful.

Published on June 16, 2015 11:18
June 15, 2015
Speaking out of turn
It's quiet.
I have about 22 minutes left b4 I return to finish my Monday at work.
I then will return home to go get dinner, since we don't cook on Monday's and Friday's.
I am 41 days from the downside into my 50's.
I yell at my kid too much, even tho he can b a dumbass.
I had a best friend who doesn't seem to interested in the "best part", and that stings.
I get new ides every day about books, sequels, and poetry, but my failures haunt me.
Silence is my only friend, and no one seems to care.
I wonder if an old friend was right and there is only the finite and then nothingness.
Would people whose lives are going well be able to hang if shit hit the fan?
I actually miss arguing sports with someone who is an absolute bigot.
It brings tears to my eyes when people don't see people as people.
Women who are true to themselves, no matter what society says, are the most beautiful to me.
My knees hurt when my hip stops hurting.
I would be surprised if I get to 70...even more so if my mind is still just as good.
I wish I could take my kids to Disney world b4 they get too old to care.
Sometimes I miss Utica NY And Syracuse...and the folks who still live there.
I am sad for my parents.
Money won't buy you happiness, but it'll pay for the search.
Indianapolis I owe an apology to. While I will never consider this home, it has grown into a fine city, despite its crime problems.
I may trim down my so-called "friends list." Others are sad here and the world embraces them. I am like the homeless on the street...ignored.
I wish I was closer to my siblings and cousins.
Oh, and I miss NY Pizza.
I have about 22 minutes left b4 I return to finish my Monday at work.
I then will return home to go get dinner, since we don't cook on Monday's and Friday's.
I am 41 days from the downside into my 50's.
I yell at my kid too much, even tho he can b a dumbass.
I had a best friend who doesn't seem to interested in the "best part", and that stings.
I get new ides every day about books, sequels, and poetry, but my failures haunt me.
Silence is my only friend, and no one seems to care.
I wonder if an old friend was right and there is only the finite and then nothingness.
Would people whose lives are going well be able to hang if shit hit the fan?
I actually miss arguing sports with someone who is an absolute bigot.
It brings tears to my eyes when people don't see people as people.
Women who are true to themselves, no matter what society says, are the most beautiful to me.
My knees hurt when my hip stops hurting.
I would be surprised if I get to 70...even more so if my mind is still just as good.
I wish I could take my kids to Disney world b4 they get too old to care.
Sometimes I miss Utica NY And Syracuse...and the folks who still live there.
I am sad for my parents.
Money won't buy you happiness, but it'll pay for the search.
Indianapolis I owe an apology to. While I will never consider this home, it has grown into a fine city, despite its crime problems.
I may trim down my so-called "friends list." Others are sad here and the world embraces them. I am like the homeless on the street...ignored.
I wish I was closer to my siblings and cousins.
Oh, and I miss NY Pizza.

Published on June 15, 2015 11:13
May 30, 2015
A ramble, a dimble, a personal thimble
it's 2:03 AM and I need to go to bed.
A lot on the mind. Starting a new job (albeit a temp one) in 54 hours. My oldest son is going to be 13 in 6 days.
I, the guy who used to go to AOL parties back in the 90's, am about to be the FATHER of a teen.
I feel like I am at a crossroads. I haven't worked a full time job (like working an average of 260 days a year job) in 8 years. My mother and father are not well, and watching them go down the rabbit hole 9well, hearing about it, since I can't get home to see them) is like being stabbed every day but not dying from the wounds. And most days I feel utterly alone.
I was thinking about quitting writing, but Robin Haslett Landry (who wants a sequel to A Prayer For The Dying), Betsy Wood Bernabe (who wants another type of book b4 I hang it up) and my biggest cheerleader, Stephanie Irwin Scarbrough would kick my middle-age ass if I did.
My brother Michael called me yesterday; first I've spoken to him in nearly a year. A local kid who played for IUPUI who he coached drowned this week, busting him him a smidgen. It was nice to her from him, but it reminds me that I am so ostracized from both sides of my family it's sorta sad. My boys know nothing about my side of the family, and hell, the (nearly) teen is scared of them.
Because he doesn't know them.
I see folks posting religious verses, but outside of a few of them who are really down for God, these folks make me look like a saint.
And that takes some skill.
The only thing I wanted to do in this life is to write stories for a living (since I couldn't be a disc jockey on a morning radio show), and try to be a good dad to my kids.
My oldest thinks I'm a dick. Maybe he's right, maybe he is just a dumb kid who doesn't understand that I kick his ass because I love him...and I don't want him to be me. He's too smart, too good looking, too "not me" to become me.
So much negativity in the world. No one trusts cops. Muslims who have nothing to do with shit are getting harassed. Blind patriotism doesn't make way for good common sense...or what the US is supposed to be about: an example to the rest of the world, not a big ass bully.
It's 2:11 AM.
I guess I need to go to bed.
But first I gotta take my diabetes pill.
A lot on the mind. Starting a new job (albeit a temp one) in 54 hours. My oldest son is going to be 13 in 6 days.
I, the guy who used to go to AOL parties back in the 90's, am about to be the FATHER of a teen.
I feel like I am at a crossroads. I haven't worked a full time job (like working an average of 260 days a year job) in 8 years. My mother and father are not well, and watching them go down the rabbit hole 9well, hearing about it, since I can't get home to see them) is like being stabbed every day but not dying from the wounds. And most days I feel utterly alone.
I was thinking about quitting writing, but Robin Haslett Landry (who wants a sequel to A Prayer For The Dying), Betsy Wood Bernabe (who wants another type of book b4 I hang it up) and my biggest cheerleader, Stephanie Irwin Scarbrough would kick my middle-age ass if I did.
My brother Michael called me yesterday; first I've spoken to him in nearly a year. A local kid who played for IUPUI who he coached drowned this week, busting him him a smidgen. It was nice to her from him, but it reminds me that I am so ostracized from both sides of my family it's sorta sad. My boys know nothing about my side of the family, and hell, the (nearly) teen is scared of them.
Because he doesn't know them.
I see folks posting religious verses, but outside of a few of them who are really down for God, these folks make me look like a saint.
And that takes some skill.
The only thing I wanted to do in this life is to write stories for a living (since I couldn't be a disc jockey on a morning radio show), and try to be a good dad to my kids.
My oldest thinks I'm a dick. Maybe he's right, maybe he is just a dumb kid who doesn't understand that I kick his ass because I love him...and I don't want him to be me. He's too smart, too good looking, too "not me" to become me.
So much negativity in the world. No one trusts cops. Muslims who have nothing to do with shit are getting harassed. Blind patriotism doesn't make way for good common sense...or what the US is supposed to be about: an example to the rest of the world, not a big ass bully.
It's 2:11 AM.
I guess I need to go to bed.
But first I gotta take my diabetes pill.

Published on May 30, 2015 23:14
May 24, 2015
This is me. Come along if you wish.
Happiness is truly 95% in the mind.
It took me 3 + decades to understand that, and a few years after that to believe it. Your life could be a giant pool of bullshit, drama, money worries, sickness and just all around bad luck. However, depending on what your mindset is you could be the happiest person in the world.
Yeah, life can get u down at times. For example, I received some distressing news this morning, made even worse because due to my finances, there isn't anything I could do about it. Also the fact that my writing efforts have been met with little support (even though I am VERY THANKFUL to those folks who have tried to help), the inability to go to family functions (seeing pictures online hit me hard) and my kids being unaware of my side of the family has put me in such a funk it isn't even funny.
But it is a mindset; a way that the dirtbag below (if u believe in that sort of thing) gets u under his/her thumb. And it is so easy to just say screw it and quit.
Told my wife that I wasn't going to write anymore. I get jealous when I c folks do awesome things because they can afford it. My long time friends don't let me know when they r in town, never bothering to visit. People I have known since childhood I rarely speak to or my calls aren't returned.
It's a lonely existence.
Will I probably bounce back and be the silly, tactless and blunt me again?
Probably.
And yeah, for those who don't already have my posts blocked, I am sure this will be ignored.
But sometimes that mindset gets battered, so I rage to empty the bad and reset the jalopy called my mind so I can think straight again.
My name is Greg. I sometimes go by my alter egos TBMFKAG or my author name G. Eric Francis.
I am a good friend. I help when I can. I am a flawed father, with little patience like my old man b4 me, but I'm trying.
And the one thing that has never changed about my mindset is that I despise losing.
I guess that is why I foolishly keep trying.
It took me 3 + decades to understand that, and a few years after that to believe it. Your life could be a giant pool of bullshit, drama, money worries, sickness and just all around bad luck. However, depending on what your mindset is you could be the happiest person in the world.
Yeah, life can get u down at times. For example, I received some distressing news this morning, made even worse because due to my finances, there isn't anything I could do about it. Also the fact that my writing efforts have been met with little support (even though I am VERY THANKFUL to those folks who have tried to help), the inability to go to family functions (seeing pictures online hit me hard) and my kids being unaware of my side of the family has put me in such a funk it isn't even funny.
But it is a mindset; a way that the dirtbag below (if u believe in that sort of thing) gets u under his/her thumb. And it is so easy to just say screw it and quit.
Told my wife that I wasn't going to write anymore. I get jealous when I c folks do awesome things because they can afford it. My long time friends don't let me know when they r in town, never bothering to visit. People I have known since childhood I rarely speak to or my calls aren't returned.
It's a lonely existence.
Will I probably bounce back and be the silly, tactless and blunt me again?
Probably.
And yeah, for those who don't already have my posts blocked, I am sure this will be ignored.
But sometimes that mindset gets battered, so I rage to empty the bad and reset the jalopy called my mind so I can think straight again.
My name is Greg. I sometimes go by my alter egos TBMFKAG or my author name G. Eric Francis.
I am a good friend. I help when I can. I am a flawed father, with little patience like my old man b4 me, but I'm trying.
And the one thing that has never changed about my mindset is that I despise losing.
I guess that is why I foolishly keep trying.

Published on May 24, 2015 10:30
May 3, 2015
No ranting, just fundraising
Hello everyone! Usually when I blog, I share something that ticks me off, makes me chuckle, or something to make folks think.
There are also times where I share personal things about myself, and this is one of these times.
Frankly, I need your help with paying things forward.
I hope that more than a few folks have checked out and enjoyed “The irritation Channel.” With that being said, whatever you may think about my channel so far, I hope that you pay attention to this.
Over the last several years, I’ve been down on my luck, to the point that on more than one occasion I (and my family) almost lost everything. Last Christmas, a woman that I only met once decided to pay it forward and helped my kids have a spectacular day on 12/25. She only asked that I pay it forward.
So I am trying to do that.
I am trying to raise funds for the 3 organizations listed below, since they are near and dear to my heart. My son Noah has Down Syndrome and Autism, and these organizations have been a great help to him and my family. Also my wife suffered a heart attack on Christmas Eve 2011 (ironic how life has its highs and lows, right), so I wanted to try to pay back my thankfulness that she is still with me and our boys.
So I’d like to give back for what has been given to me. I have written 4 well-reviewed books, and for the next 90 days any paperback I sell I will donate $1 (divided between these organizations). For the Kindle versions of this book, I will donate .52 cents (since figuring out 12.5 is a pain:).
It’s a great way to raise money for some great organizations, as well as get books that you and your kids (Cluck; don’t buy them the other books…lol) will enjoy. Please spread the word, and thanks!
My Books on Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/G-Eric-Francis/e/B0095IHGBY/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1
PaperbacksCluck The Undercover Chicken - https://www.createspace.com/4727602A Beginning, No Middle And An End - https://www.createspace.com/491352490 things That Irritate The Sh** Out Of Me…Or At Least Make Me Frown - https://www.createspace.com/4978185
American Heart Association - http://www.heart.org/HEARTORG/National Down Syndrome Society - http://www.ndss.org/Down Syndrome Indiana - http://www.dsindiana.org/
Autism Speaks - https://www.autismspeaks.org/

Published on May 03, 2015 09:31
May 1, 2015
Vlog and my big log (not what you think you dirty minded devils!)
Evening.
I vlog now.
It's called The Irritation Network.
Look, I have written on this blog for I believe 5 years plus. It's fun. I share myself, I share my views, I try to make you laugh and think.
At the same time, I have this dream...a dream where I can entertain folks, make them think, which in turn I hope leads to us treating each other a little better. If you haven't noticed, things have gotten a little ugly here in the United States.
We need each other, folks.
We need to make each other laugh, help old ladies across the street and keep New England teams from winning world championships.
I of course really would like that people would look at each other like babies look at each other. They don't see color or prestige. They don't care if their buddy has a nicer diaper on; they both will smell like shit eventually. They see each other as equals; no jealousy, no bigotry, no bullshit.
Personally I wish I didn't have anything to talk about on this blog or my new vlog.
Said shit, sad business.
Anywho, since I am taking a small break from writing books, I'll be around. For the 37K visitors who have stopped by, I thank you.
You should see my mouth moving. It gets a little more interesting...:)
I vlog now.
It's called The Irritation Network.
Look, I have written on this blog for I believe 5 years plus. It's fun. I share myself, I share my views, I try to make you laugh and think.
At the same time, I have this dream...a dream where I can entertain folks, make them think, which in turn I hope leads to us treating each other a little better. If you haven't noticed, things have gotten a little ugly here in the United States.
We need each other, folks.
We need to make each other laugh, help old ladies across the street and keep New England teams from winning world championships.
I of course really would like that people would look at each other like babies look at each other. They don't see color or prestige. They don't care if their buddy has a nicer diaper on; they both will smell like shit eventually. They see each other as equals; no jealousy, no bigotry, no bullshit.
Personally I wish I didn't have anything to talk about on this blog or my new vlog.
Said shit, sad business.
Anywho, since I am taking a small break from writing books, I'll be around. For the 37K visitors who have stopped by, I thank you.
You should see my mouth moving. It gets a little more interesting...:)

Published on May 01, 2015 20:42
April 19, 2015
This is the story of a boy, who didn't want the story.
(I wrote this earlier today, in the hopes of attracting folks to my writing, which in turn would lead them to buying my books. Decided for those folks who actually have visited this page to check it out. Oh, did I mention that I write books? LOL Anywho, if you give a rat's ass about that, you can get them here).
Everyone looked at the boy as he stood there, tears streaming down his face, the entire auditorium laughing at him. Sometimes kids can be so cruel, not knowing that what they may think is funny is like 1,000 punches to the person that they are ridiculing.It all started a few months prior, a 16-year-old boy who didn’t have the proper haircut or proper clothes to be “cool” having a massive crush on this ebony picture of beauty that, besides an occasional bone thrown his way had no interest in his affections.The boy didn’t have any confidence, it being crushed by his father and his peers whenever he showed any signs of weakness. He didn’t get to play catch with his dad, because his dad was out in the world doing what he had to do…and what he shouldn’t have been doing in the first place. He had a couple of friends here and there who “got” who he was, but most days at lunch he sat alone, a pariah of sorts, imaginary leprosy keeping all the other kids at bay.But the one thing he looked forward to was the girl. She had the deep brown eyes, the dark skin like his that seemed like there wasn’t a bit of imperfection on it. She was a year ahead of him, and what he perceived as “womanhood” seemed to ooze out of her each time she took a step with her delicious figure. There was a slang at the time amongst inner-city kids to describe a handsome man or a beautiful woman. Fine.That is what she was; an absolutely fine piece of burgeoning womanhood that all he wanted to do is make her at least acknowledge that he was a male. Not in a sexual way mind you, despite the raging hormones that he still didn’t quite know how to control. At the time, long before life had made him wary of giving his entire being to another, all he wanted was that butterfly-like feeling in his heart that he had read about in the books that he used to read. That joy received from a simple smile from the girl he desired, knowing that he was the one that brought it on. He wanted to know young love; not the complicated kind that adults tend to make it out to be. No, he wanted the simple, holding hands, a gentle kiss, watch a movie and laugh and having his arms around her sort of young love.He tried to get to know her, and while she was not necessarily cruel to him at first, his feelings for her blinded him to the fact that she was not interested. At that age, pretty girls don’t get down with the “average” guys. While time, fashion, and technology change, social status never does. The pretty girls want the handsome, strong, popular boys. Someone as beautiful as she was wouldn’t dare get down with this big-headed, lacking confidence sort of boy who didn’t want to play football because he didn’t do pain very well. So the boy continued to try to gain the affections of the girl, and his persistence began to become an irritant to her. She tried to continue to be kind to him, even though in the back of her mind she wished that he would just get the hint and leave her be. Then came that day, where an assembly took place at school in the morning, and the majority of the students were gathered in the auditorium. The boy, who after weeks of getting up the nerve, decided to simply “go for it” (as his mother always told him when it came to going for what he wanted in life) and walked over to the girl, who was sitting in front of her best male friend (a male who had no problem telling folks what he thought, defending his friend to the end) and asked her to go to a movie with him.The girl, sighing heavily, began to turn away from the boy, knowing that she had to simply come out and tell the boy, despite being a nice person, that he had to stop this fruitless pursuit and leave her alone.However, her friend, who she had confided in about the situation, decided to step in and do the heavily lifting for her.“Man,” he said, “don’t you get the hint? She doesn’t want you! You are a stalker. Go away and leave her alone. Why would she want a loser like you?”There was a commercial back in the 1980’s that once said, “Words hit like a fist.” As if he took a shot to the gut, the boy, who looked at the girl’s friend with a mix of hurt and anger in his eyes, then turned his gaze towards this woman who he thought was his dream come true.The girl, who turned her head away, tried to control herself…from laughing at her friend’s comments.The boy, who was a very emotional sort of fellow, felt tears well up in his eyes, and after looking at the girl for one more moment, quickly got up and walked towards the front of the auditorium.His mind a jumbled mess, he actually meant to storm out of the auditorium, but he knew he would get in trouble if he did. So he walked towards the front, tears streaming uncontrollably down his cheeks, trying to catch his breath as he almost began to hyperventilate. Soon the sounds of his crying was overheard by the kids in front of the auditorium, and since seeing signs of weakness for some reason was like watching a comedian perform on stage, the kids began to laugh at him.Heartily.They pointed at the boy, since they knew of him and had enjoyed picking on him before. The laughter began to grow, and the boy, who despite the loud laughter didn’t hear it, just stood there, his tears unable to be cut off like a busted water pipe. His attention was fully on the girl who just laughed at his attempt to share his heart, chatting with her friend with a look of relief on her face. She was so uninterested in him she didn’t even bother to participate in his ridicule.So the boy stood there, his broken heart a Shakespearean comedy for the world to see, the curtain refusing to fall on this dark cloud of a play.
This is the human race.
Everyone looked at the boy as he stood there, tears streaming down his face, the entire auditorium laughing at him. Sometimes kids can be so cruel, not knowing that what they may think is funny is like 1,000 punches to the person that they are ridiculing.It all started a few months prior, a 16-year-old boy who didn’t have the proper haircut or proper clothes to be “cool” having a massive crush on this ebony picture of beauty that, besides an occasional bone thrown his way had no interest in his affections.The boy didn’t have any confidence, it being crushed by his father and his peers whenever he showed any signs of weakness. He didn’t get to play catch with his dad, because his dad was out in the world doing what he had to do…and what he shouldn’t have been doing in the first place. He had a couple of friends here and there who “got” who he was, but most days at lunch he sat alone, a pariah of sorts, imaginary leprosy keeping all the other kids at bay.But the one thing he looked forward to was the girl. She had the deep brown eyes, the dark skin like his that seemed like there wasn’t a bit of imperfection on it. She was a year ahead of him, and what he perceived as “womanhood” seemed to ooze out of her each time she took a step with her delicious figure. There was a slang at the time amongst inner-city kids to describe a handsome man or a beautiful woman. Fine.That is what she was; an absolutely fine piece of burgeoning womanhood that all he wanted to do is make her at least acknowledge that he was a male. Not in a sexual way mind you, despite the raging hormones that he still didn’t quite know how to control. At the time, long before life had made him wary of giving his entire being to another, all he wanted was that butterfly-like feeling in his heart that he had read about in the books that he used to read. That joy received from a simple smile from the girl he desired, knowing that he was the one that brought it on. He wanted to know young love; not the complicated kind that adults tend to make it out to be. No, he wanted the simple, holding hands, a gentle kiss, watch a movie and laugh and having his arms around her sort of young love.He tried to get to know her, and while she was not necessarily cruel to him at first, his feelings for her blinded him to the fact that she was not interested. At that age, pretty girls don’t get down with the “average” guys. While time, fashion, and technology change, social status never does. The pretty girls want the handsome, strong, popular boys. Someone as beautiful as she was wouldn’t dare get down with this big-headed, lacking confidence sort of boy who didn’t want to play football because he didn’t do pain very well. So the boy continued to try to gain the affections of the girl, and his persistence began to become an irritant to her. She tried to continue to be kind to him, even though in the back of her mind she wished that he would just get the hint and leave her be. Then came that day, where an assembly took place at school in the morning, and the majority of the students were gathered in the auditorium. The boy, who after weeks of getting up the nerve, decided to simply “go for it” (as his mother always told him when it came to going for what he wanted in life) and walked over to the girl, who was sitting in front of her best male friend (a male who had no problem telling folks what he thought, defending his friend to the end) and asked her to go to a movie with him.The girl, sighing heavily, began to turn away from the boy, knowing that she had to simply come out and tell the boy, despite being a nice person, that he had to stop this fruitless pursuit and leave her alone.However, her friend, who she had confided in about the situation, decided to step in and do the heavily lifting for her.“Man,” he said, “don’t you get the hint? She doesn’t want you! You are a stalker. Go away and leave her alone. Why would she want a loser like you?”There was a commercial back in the 1980’s that once said, “Words hit like a fist.” As if he took a shot to the gut, the boy, who looked at the girl’s friend with a mix of hurt and anger in his eyes, then turned his gaze towards this woman who he thought was his dream come true.The girl, who turned her head away, tried to control herself…from laughing at her friend’s comments.The boy, who was a very emotional sort of fellow, felt tears well up in his eyes, and after looking at the girl for one more moment, quickly got up and walked towards the front of the auditorium.His mind a jumbled mess, he actually meant to storm out of the auditorium, but he knew he would get in trouble if he did. So he walked towards the front, tears streaming uncontrollably down his cheeks, trying to catch his breath as he almost began to hyperventilate. Soon the sounds of his crying was overheard by the kids in front of the auditorium, and since seeing signs of weakness for some reason was like watching a comedian perform on stage, the kids began to laugh at him.Heartily.They pointed at the boy, since they knew of him and had enjoyed picking on him before. The laughter began to grow, and the boy, who despite the loud laughter didn’t hear it, just stood there, his tears unable to be cut off like a busted water pipe. His attention was fully on the girl who just laughed at his attempt to share his heart, chatting with her friend with a look of relief on her face. She was so uninterested in him she didn’t even bother to participate in his ridicule.So the boy stood there, his broken heart a Shakespearean comedy for the world to see, the curtain refusing to fall on this dark cloud of a play.
This is the human race.

Published on April 19, 2015 20:10
April 11, 2015
I'm back, broke and still dreaming
Wow.
It's been a few minutes since I've been back.
For that...well, I won't say I'm sorry I've been gone so long; I have been busy trying to chase a dream that keeps getting faster while I keep getting fatter on french fries.
Also, the news I've been seeing about how the U.S. is going ass-backwards in is history has made me a little lacking in words.
Anywho, on a whim I decided to pop in to see what was going on, and much to my surprise I've actually had some decent visitors.
That is crazy, considering the fact that it's been months since I've posted.
For that, I thank you.
Anywho, what shall I talk about on my first blog post of 2015?
Well, we have cops shooting fat black guys who owe child support, even though the man was unarmed.
That's recent news. I watched it as I was sitting down enjoying my healthy lunch that made me wonder if eating healthy was worth the benefit. It was one of those "Healthy Choice" frozen deals that taste like cow udders. Not that I've been going around checking out the flavor of Bessie's milk faucets, but I am sure that my guess isn't way off.
I've also found that I have very few friends who want to help me chase my dream. That is a little disheartening since over the years I've listened to everyone's little dirty secrets, offering advice, a willing ear, and an open heart.
Hmm...open heart. I might have to watch that since the devil's always listening, and being fat and diabetic might make that a literal thing.
I also have been bummed since a lot of my Caucasian associates are so apathetic about what is going on here in America, not willing to say or stand up for the fact that no matter the shade, grade, or the rainbow quotient, we are all SUPPOSEDLY one nation under the deity of choice. Our stubbornness has really sucked the life out of my inspiration to write and entertain with my semi-brilliant quips.
I know this is a weird posting, and for that I'll say sorry. I guess as I head on the downslope to 50, I am a little sad for me...as well as for us. I hate when I get jealous of people 1/2 my age making 500K a year, or other folks who made better choices (it seems by appearance) and are enjoying their small slice of history called their lives. At the same time, I see a world about as bad (if not worse) than when biblically God just said "fornicate it" and washed all the dirt away and rebooted.
Anyway, I did write a book this year (my 4th), releasing it to the world. It's called "90 Things that Irritate the Sh** out of me...Or at least make me frown." It is supposed to be funny, and most folks do laugh (well, if you consider the 13 reviews I've received so far, outside of the complaints about the language and the singular "vulgar" comment). I look it as the great blog gathering, all my thoughts out there for those who want to spend a few pennies on it.
However, I do admit that I miss dropping in and saying hi to those who come to check me out. As the world continues to devolve, I may stop in more often and drop a few bits of Oddness and concern for your perusal.
Who knows...maybe y'all missed me or something.
It's been a few minutes since I've been back.
For that...well, I won't say I'm sorry I've been gone so long; I have been busy trying to chase a dream that keeps getting faster while I keep getting fatter on french fries.
Also, the news I've been seeing about how the U.S. is going ass-backwards in is history has made me a little lacking in words.
Anywho, on a whim I decided to pop in to see what was going on, and much to my surprise I've actually had some decent visitors.
That is crazy, considering the fact that it's been months since I've posted.
For that, I thank you.
Anywho, what shall I talk about on my first blog post of 2015?
Well, we have cops shooting fat black guys who owe child support, even though the man was unarmed.
That's recent news. I watched it as I was sitting down enjoying my healthy lunch that made me wonder if eating healthy was worth the benefit. It was one of those "Healthy Choice" frozen deals that taste like cow udders. Not that I've been going around checking out the flavor of Bessie's milk faucets, but I am sure that my guess isn't way off.
I've also found that I have very few friends who want to help me chase my dream. That is a little disheartening since over the years I've listened to everyone's little dirty secrets, offering advice, a willing ear, and an open heart.
Hmm...open heart. I might have to watch that since the devil's always listening, and being fat and diabetic might make that a literal thing.
I also have been bummed since a lot of my Caucasian associates are so apathetic about what is going on here in America, not willing to say or stand up for the fact that no matter the shade, grade, or the rainbow quotient, we are all SUPPOSEDLY one nation under the deity of choice. Our stubbornness has really sucked the life out of my inspiration to write and entertain with my semi-brilliant quips.
I know this is a weird posting, and for that I'll say sorry. I guess as I head on the downslope to 50, I am a little sad for me...as well as for us. I hate when I get jealous of people 1/2 my age making 500K a year, or other folks who made better choices (it seems by appearance) and are enjoying their small slice of history called their lives. At the same time, I see a world about as bad (if not worse) than when biblically God just said "fornicate it" and washed all the dirt away and rebooted.
Anyway, I did write a book this year (my 4th), releasing it to the world. It's called "90 Things that Irritate the Sh** out of me...Or at least make me frown." It is supposed to be funny, and most folks do laugh (well, if you consider the 13 reviews I've received so far, outside of the complaints about the language and the singular "vulgar" comment). I look it as the great blog gathering, all my thoughts out there for those who want to spend a few pennies on it.
However, I do admit that I miss dropping in and saying hi to those who come to check me out. As the world continues to devolve, I may stop in more often and drop a few bits of Oddness and concern for your perusal.
Who knows...maybe y'all missed me or something.

Published on April 11, 2015 12:46