Hell of a Guy
Don't stay in bed, unless you can make money in bed. - George Burns

Saturday, December 26, 2015

Christmas Past 2015


The day after Christmas, especially when Christmas falls on a Saturday, should most definitely be a day of rest. I awoke this morning feeling tried and out of breath. Yesterday was a busy day, though we really didn’t do anything tiring, it was nonetheless a long, long day.

We chose to do our family gift exchange on Christmas Eve this year, a first, but a good one. The Nancy and I took her dad to an early church service on Christmas Eve. After church we had a wonderful, very filling dinner with the family…especially Lynnley Grace, aka The Muffin. To watch The Nancy’s dad with that baby is heartwarming and stirs the emotions. It was everything a Christmas with family should be, a stunning example of family love.

Yesterday we spent the whole day with The Nancy’s 86-year old dad. We had a late breakfast together and watched him as he opened presents from The Nancy’s sibs. Now here’s a guy of humble beginnings and rose beyond them. He’s led a simple but productive life. In retirement for over 30 years, he has all he needs. He has lived alone since his dear wife passed away in June 2013, and has had a roller coaster ride of health issues, but continues to have a bright outlook on life and living. His children, though none living less than 150 miles away, are in constant contact and rally around him any time it is warranted. Did I mention he’s a good guy? It was a pleasure to spend the day with him.

So here we are, December 26th. A little later, after a birthday breakfast with the oldest grandson, The Nancy and I will head home and crash the rest of the day. Well, at least, I will. Knowing her, we will get home and settled and she will head to her office (in the basement) to “catch up.” It’s just the way she rolls.

So now the hoopla is over. In just another 364 days we will do it all over again. In the meantime, the New Year approaches. 2016 is just around the corner. If it goes as quickly as 2015, I might as well start right now to write about Christmas 2016.

And that is all I have to say about that…

Sunday, November 29, 2015

Being African American…


An experience I have only recently enjoyed. Yep! That’s me, an African American…well, that is, at least a piece of me.

Not long ago The Nancy and I had our DNA analyzed by Ancestry.Com. The results were about what we expected but for one itty-bitty ancestry line on mine. It is confirmed one percent of my DNA comes from Africa, and I plan to use this information to my advantage.

Since getting the results of this testing, I have been living the Black Experience. I am now connected to my people, and no longer can I be accused of living with the advantage of “white privilege.”  On any form I fill out that asks for information as to my race, I will be checking the African American block. I am an authenticated minority now.

All kidding aside, I am more than well aware all human life began in Africa. Mankind began there and migrated across the planet. In one way or another everyone on this planet is distantly related and we all have an African blood line – large or small, it’s in us somewhere to some degree, and this makes me all the more proud to know I have a documented 1% in mine.

And that is all I have to say about that…

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

When I Became Me…


When I became me I thought I had the world by the tail. What wonderful gifts God gave to me; a beating heart, a working brain, ten fingers and ten toes, arms and legs that moved as they should, eyes to see the world and ears to hear it. I knew deep in my little heart I would conquer the world and do great things.

Where would my life take me? What would I become? A doctor? An educator? A man of God? A philosopher? A father? I could become one of them, I could become all of them. I could choose to do good or I could choose to do evil…but I could choose. It would be entirely up to me. My destiny was in my hands under the guise of the God that created me, or so I thought.

And then my life was over. I became nothing more than a statistic when my mother chose to abort me.

And that is all I have to say about that…

Friday, October 30, 2015

Politically Correct, No Mas…


Am I the only one out here who is totally fed up with the politically correct crowd? I surely hope not.

Sick of this crap is an understatement. I refuse to take part in it from this moment forward. I no longer care if I offend a female “congressman,” a female “postman,” or any female working in a position once dominated by men. I will refer to “mankind,” first-year college students as freshman and fourth-year students as seniors. I will wish you a “Merry Christmas,” and always refer to the school break given to students in December as the “Christmas vacation.” I will celebrate Good Friday and Easter. I will say “Thank God” as often as I can and will always believe anyone and everyone has a right to pray anytime, anywhere, and I don’t care who it offends. I am sick of the so called War on Women and believe abortion is a nice word for murder. I don’t believe any employer should be required to provide a means for a women to have sex under guise of “birth control.” That one is pure utter BS, period. And then don’t get me even started on “illegal aliens” versus the “undocumented immigrant” tag. It’s even more BS.

I once worked with a guy, shortly after high school, who I assumed was gay, or as my mother referred to them as queer (to her it merely meant different), Lindsay was a bit of an introvert. My friend Lindsay would often say, “I hate Jews, niggers, Catholics and foreigners.” Actually, he didn’t hate anyone, but my friend Lindsay was not to be politically correct then and I seriously doubt, if he is still living, there is a politically correct bone in his body today.

These days a bunch of people, most likely Liberal Progressives, so are up in arms that everything we do is offensive to someone. I saw the other day the President is banning the serving of pork in federal prisons because it offends Muslims. By the way, he never did that for Jewish prisoners, but that’s another story. Muslims seemed to be offended by everything and anything we do in this country, even more than atheists, which is another group I have little respect for – a bunch of whiners.

If someone reads this and is offended, frankly, I don’t care. I have taken up putting words in my dearly departed mother’s mouth, knowing she would never have used this kind of language, but I do it nonetheless. I stretch it by saying, and it works well with this piece, in the words of my mother, “fuck ‘em.”

I am tired of having to supposedly worry about offending anyone with anything I do, say, eat or my beliefs, which I have never done anyway, and won’t start now.

Have a blessed day!

And that is all I have to say about that…

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