The Definition of an American "Thug"

I write these things to clear my mind and find some kind of peace. Most of the stuff you will find here lately had nothing to do with writing erotica nor romance nor the many machinations of attempting to be what I so obviously AM.

_____

That said, let me give you the definition of a thug according to Fox News and the American media system, which, like in Orwell's 1984 seeks to create a monster for all to fear in order to keep the populace focused on things that don't matter while the rich control us all like puppets and force us to dance their little dances for crumbs and table scraps.

In Orwell's 1984, there was a big monster. This monster was the thing that people were taught to fear. I read the book a very long time ago, so I don't recall every delicious, horror-inducing, oh-you-brilliant-sexy-writer, word. The populace was at war with someone and that person wasn't real--that is what I remember and that is what I want to use in an effort to talk about this monstrous 'thug' that we are all taught to fear no matter what color we are.

The dictionary definition of a thug is this: A cruel, vicious ruffian, robber or murderer.

This is the picture that Fox News employs. We are taught so well to hate the thug that if such a creature turns up on our doorstep in the middle of the night seeking aid and assistance because they've been in a terrible car accident and manage to, mercifully, stumble out of the wreckage alive -- we shoot them. Before we call the police, before we do anything else, we shoot these MONSTERS.

A lot of people want to call this racism.

Correction: This is definitely racism. The absolute BANE of the planet earth.

And, to a certain degree, it is. But, more than racism, it is the Orwellian fear (carefully taught by RACISTS) of the monster that we've been carefully taught to hate. We kill IT because all our lives we've heard terror stories of what IT will do to us if we don't.

There are many stories like this and there will be many more. Just like there are stories of police corruption where thugs are shot down for little to nothing by cops with nothing to lose by doing so. Rabbit Season. Duck Season. Thug Season.

It actually shocks me how ready some people are to kill someone else--but that, in itself, is another story for another time.  And one that deals with the mournful disconnect of one human being from another on a global scale -- a near complete lack of compassion and empathy for other human beings, and, therefore, truthfully, for SELF. 


But one should not waste sympathy on a thug. A thug is, by definition cruel, vicious. He will rob and kill.

How does one identify one of the creatures exactly?

Well, thugs sport a certain kind of dress and live, predominantly, in Urban areas. They sell drugs and pimp hoes -- not because they have to, of course, but because they want to. Thugs are different from other human beings and should be hunted down and killed because they will kill YOU. Except that most of the crimes committed by these thugs are committed in their own communities. But that doesn't matter because they are MONSTERS and anything that happens to them they deserve. I mean, just look at them. Aren't they scary with their baggy pants and dreadlocked hairdos? They don't speak proper English. Lock them all up for petty drug offenses and throw away the key and then sit back and talk about the fact that all the Lady Thugs are unwed mothers.

There is a definition of thug that I found in the Urban Dictionary that I have found, in my experience, to be far more apt:

"A thug is someone who is going through struggles and has gone through struggles and continues to live day by day with nothing for them. That person is a thug, and the life they are living is a thug life."  

According to that definition, I am a thug and living a thug life. I write and write and write and receive nothing for the fifteen or so books I have published because ... I am ... not very good at this shit. Yea. That's it. Because 15 books in ... and I fucking suck. They just kept publishing me 'cause ... Well ... Reasons. Maybe it was the kindness of their cold, black hearts...

... that sounds about right.

Let's go with that.

Aaaaaaanyway...

I am a proud Thugesa and I will probably be shot tomorrow for saying that shit--but que sera sera. I've found more honor among thugs, honestly, than I have in dealing with the very least of the Industry people and other writers--as confused and fucked up and dead asleep as most thugs, unfortunately, are.

Distancing one's self from injustice because it doesn't directly affect you is a fool's play of the highest order. Labeling humans monsters because the media told you to, or because your grandpa did, is also a fool's play. Injustice doesn't have any stopping sense. ROBIN HOOD was a THUG. How long will it be before YOU try to stand up and someone with more power and authority knocks YOU down, labels you, and renders YOUR existence obsolete?

Tell me, Oh Struggling Soul, if you aren't also a thug by that second, and far more REAL. definition of the word?

"...a tiny fairy light on the Christmas Tree of Evil."

aka. Faux News

It was my only wish to rise Above these jealous COWARD motherfuckers I DESPISE

The Many Misdirections of "NEW" Feminism

This is my personal rant to be taken with a grain of salt.

The trend that feminism is taking has made me hate the word. More and more, it is becoming a bitter and hateful word--conflicted, confused, and misdirected by a bunch of petulant little girls who think they know what they're talking about. It is a disgusting, disheartening thing to watch.

Once upon a time, the word meant something important to females. In a world where some cultures cut off clits, and stone women for being raped, the word was like a beacon beckoning with hope for some form of equality among the genders. It was a helpful word in framing a world where no one is less by virtue of misfortune of birth. I've always been rather fond of it in a distanced sort of way that wasn't really distant at all. The word brought about change and a change for the better. All that bra burning was nice. A turn in the tide of commonplace domestic abuse was nice. Voting is nice -- the illusion that our votes make a difference anyway.

However, today's feminists are a running joke without a punchline--bitching and whining and passive aggressive bullying about everything. The 'free bleed' movement makes me want to stab kittens and I LOVE kittens. Frankly, I think that whole thing is just nasty on the same level as that scene from "To Sir With Love" where Sir walks into the class and there are  hastily and publicly removed tampons burning in the classroom's furnace. While there is nothing to be ashamed of about a natural human process, there is a pointlessness to the methods of this "movement" that I find truly cringe-worthy. Do we need, then, to allow all our necessary bodily functions to evidence themselves in public by allowing them to run down our legs? Or is that thought rather vile?

"Say it long and loud, I'm a bad bitch and proud" ... is one thing. This... is another.

I give great consideration to the fact that women used to be locked up in huts far away from the village when this time came for them. Such a thing was considered shameful and was reviled by the community. I understand all that, and still I say that there are ways to go about things... and this isn't the way. I get the point, but the method is overly dramatic and childish. That, and, these days, Ladies, we have much BIGGER problems that aren't being addressed. But I'll try to save that bitch and moan for another day, and talk instead about this video game bullshit that's been going on lately.

The big gripe was that women are underrepresented in video games and when they are represented they are overly sexualized playthings for the male players. As a person that plays ALOT of video games, I cry bullshit. There are many awesome video games filled with female personas kicking ass. If you truly give a shit, then you should know the answers already, and lots of people have put evidence up all over the net. If you're talking about a game like GTA, where all the dudes are macho and all the ladies are (kinda) whores -- a game I love except for the repetitive factor of the missions-- then you're gonna have to realize that GTA is an allover kind of fantasy where you can smash innocent people's heads in and steal their cars and run amok for no other reason than you've had a bad day and need to get out some aggression. Play Mass Effect or Dragon Age--beautiful engaging stories and something for every kind of person. Final Fantasy ANYTHING -- from 1-14. Saint's Row is Hella Fun For ALL. Get down with Lara Croft and stop trying to shave off her tits and make her look more like something you can stand to look at and not be jealous of. In other words, stop bitching about NOTHING, plz.

There's a lot to bitch about for real. Education in America sucks ass churning out more and more stupid, oblivious people. The government is after the right to have abortions making you a cow. Gay people still can't get married anywhere and anytime they want. The foster care system is losing children. Child abuse is running rampant. Racism is alive and well and eating at the core of out country keeping us from having a National Healthcare system like every other first world country in the world. Moving up the corporate ladder (or whatever ladder you may be on in fulfilling your dreams) still requires that you take off your panties and do a mean ass butt naked, hori-fuckin'-zontal snake dance for promotions. If you aren't married, you aren't a real woman. You better weigh 99 pounds soaking wet or you're a fat bitch...

I could go on...

...but I won't. The right to ... Ugh ... free bleed, and Who's Who in video games seems so ultra insignificant in the face of the problems I stated above. And, yet, these are some big ass topics in the realm of NEW feminism. What doors are being knocked down by this ... drivel? What brand of misogyny isn't laughing its collective ass off at ... this?

Think about this dumb shit in the looming future when some of the hard ass real life choices you have to face come into painful fruition.


Oh, and I'm not a feminist Old School or new. I'm a realist, if you must label my invisible ass anything at all.

Poems

(1.)

I am from a sketch book

From colored pencils and computers

I am from the tall building with the rose bushes

and the meows of my cat, Logan

I am from the green vines upon our windows

The lake and Pier

I'm from baking and artistic skill

From mother and father

I'm from laughing and playing games

And from fiendish delight

I'm from "We'll fix it together," and "I will always love you"

And the "Ghost Busters" tune

I'm from competitive gaming

I'm from the hospital and home

Nutella and omelets

From "The small girl who always went to 

the library to read." And her eyes never left the pages.  

(2.)

Bird of My Feather

Long winged rider of sweet midnight breezes

Made of dreams, fears and fantasies

Flying high in the realm of pure imagination

Creating the sky that becomes your domain

Speaking in thunderclaps and soft whispers

Vivid colors and sweet aromas left in your wake

Unperceived by a world numbed to beauty

And comfortable in ignorance

Wingtips touch and inspiration ignites

As mirror images take flight

Identical opposites intertwined in midair

Most would never understand

They look up in admiration

But would want to destroy us if we flew too low

So higher ever higher we dance through the air

As long as this dream shall last

_____________________________________

I didn't write either of these.. but they are both mine all the same. 

ANACONDA:)

Look.

At.

Her.

Butt.

Haven't really been into Nicki Minaj since Itty Bitty Piggy, which I loved. Starships isn't bad. The Malcolm X thing kinda made me sick. However, this bad little bitch has redeemed herself in my eyes. 

Oh my gosh...

Look at her Butt...

When that douchebag went public and talked about her latest album cover, I didn't expect much out of her, frankly. I am so used to people bowing down and accepting the many hypocrisies of the world. 

My anaconda don't...

My anaconda don't

My anaconda want none...

Unless you got buns hon...

She didn't accept that shit though. She got mad. And her response to that guy (at least to me) is the video for the song Anaconda. That ass is shaking like a salt shaker--like a malt maker--and it is beautiful. 

I'm hearing all sorts of shit behind it. What's this video even about, etc.

The video is a response. And it's a great one. 

Drake's face at the end when she walks away is so damn lustful and sexy. Thirsty. 

2 weeks in the hot desert and that ass is the only water for miles -- Thirsty. 

I

this vid:)

Shake it...

Shake it...

Shake that healthy butt...

Baby Got Back. 

                                            ~ Sir Mix A Lot

I'm Glad I Don't Live In Ferguson Missouri

Axin' All Dese Questions...

I have often found myself wondering how some people think. As I writer, it is an exercise I employ quite often in order to create people and make them breathe off the pages.

What does it feel like to feel superior to someone else? What does it feel like to actually judge another human being as less, and even sub-human? What does it feel like to look at someone and immediately judge them a violent, dangerous thug, for instance? What kind of person would you have to be to see a person killed and then look for a reason to justify that murder--like they were stealing candy or cigars.

How does that kind of thinking work? And more importantly, what does it feel like?

Does it feel good? It has to, right? There has to be some kind of comfort in it-- a sense of security maybe.

I think that maybe the German people surrendered to this kind of feeling when they were killing all those Jewish people in all those concentration camps--both those who actually became Nazi's and those who sat around and let that horrible shit happen. The Jewish people were less. The Jewish people were all sorts of things. The Jewish people were bad. The Jewish people deserved to die for any little insignificant thing, but, mostly, for the crime of being Jewish.

It must feel good to think you're better than someone else and that their life means less than your own.

I see a terrible, grotesque, kind of weakness and insecurity in that kind of feeling, but I must be wrong, because so many people surrender to it so very easily. As history works to repeat itself, most are acting like it's the first time all over again. And again. And again.

This could be such a beautiful world. But we steal from each other, rape each other, hold one another down. Make up things to hate one another for. Bash each other. Starve each other. Harm, hurt and hate one another. And still consider ourselves some kind of superior beings on this planet because we can destroy it with such a beautiful, well-thought out, and pointless kind of viciousness.

We create diseases to kill off other human beings.
We make dirty bombs and clean ones.
All kinds of warfare fighting over pieces of a planet that belongs to all.
And I sound like some kind of hippie because I see it and long for it.

What the fuck is wrong with humans? That question's been asked forever and a dark day because we've been fucking this up forever. Most are praying to a god they couldn't possibly believe in when they do the horrific things they do to other people and then justify that shit by saying that that person is less in the first place and deserved it. Sons of Cain. Homosexual. Female. Jew. Gentile. Butcher. Baker. Candlestick Maker. Apache Chief. A thousand labels. A million different divisions from the whole -- so there's always someone to shit on. BECAUSE SHITTING ON SOMEONE ELSE SEEMS TO BE THE MOST IMPORTANT THING OF ALL.

I am better...

I am better...

I am better than you...

I can take your life. 

And nothing will be done

Because you're nothing...

I am everything. 

I am better...

I am better...

I am better than you. 

We live in a very savage world on a mental and emotional level. It's covered up quite nicely by a very thin veil of civility. .We've got a whole bunch of technology, a whole bunch of material things and toys and shit to play with. But, I think we like best... to play with one another. And we like breaking our toys. Breaking them makes us feel good, better, SUP-fuckin'-PERIOR. 

So pathetically childish when there are so many better things to be doing. 

And...

Yet...

So sickeningly REAL. 

If They Gunned Me Down -- Tre's Song

He was just a kid. At eighteen years old, he was six feet tall and thin. His skin was dark, the color of almonds. He had gold eyes that girls liked to drown in. He was late for work and annoyed by his own lateness. He wanted to keep this job. He needed it. Tuition was sky high and he intended to graduate from college and not owe his soul to the loan companies afterward.

Tre was dressed in all black. He wore an inky hoody that his face was practically dissolved into. He looked like a walking shadow as he strode the dark streets quickly in his rush to get to where he was going. He had his boss on his mind. The speech he would have to hear for being late today rang in his ears. He hadn't heard the speech often, but he'd heard it enough. The high-pitched inner voice lent a spring to his step.

He crossed the street into the relatively affluent neighborhood in which he bused tables at a prestigious little restaurant. It had always amazed him how the simple crossing of a street could change one's whole world in the city. Behind him lay darkness, busted streetlights and decay, and ahead of him was a brightly lit tree-lined neighborhood that looked like Heaven in comparison.

He didn't see the cop because his mind was on his job. He heard the slight mechanical whirring sound that cop cars make when they pulled up behind someone, and froze instantly.

In the night, a song began, and that song was grounded in the noise of Tre's frantic heartbeat, combined with the cop's heartbeat, the noise of the cop car's engine, the whisper of the wind, the sound of a toddler laughing, and the low, hitching sadness of a woman crying. There were many other sounds too in the making of Tre's song ...

...a far away car alarm...
... a soft but intense argument between a husband and wife...
...the sound of water trickling into a rain gutter...
...a stray cat's desperate, hungry noise...

The cop gets out of his vehicle. There is something nervous in his walk as he approaches the walking shadow that is Tre. The determined footsteps of the walk joins the song, and the music swells until it is rich and deep and throbbing with heartsounds of these two people in this moment.

"What are you doing here?" is the first lyric.
"Going to work," slightly defensive ... is the second.
"Let me see your I.D," is the hook.
"Why?" is the chorus.

A rather raggedy car trundles past leaving a mean drum beat in its wake as the song swells toward eerie, orgasmic crescendo.

_____

An unarmed teenager was killed today is beginning to be something I am, personally, becoming numb to. There are so many levels to this type of thing that it makes my head hurt trying to figure out how something like this happens and why it's this often. So, I'm not going to name the names that inspired the writing of this particular post or tell the story of the boy who was, most recently, shot by the cops. I'm not going to ask why people can't just see other people as human beings just like themselves, or why the media, dependent on world view, paints a victim in whatever shade of funeral garb suits their particular agenda. I'm not going to judge it at all. 

It's simple for me. A dead kid is a dead kid, and that is sad. And unarmed dead kid slaughtered in the streets is worse. Whatever happened to: "Stop, or I'll shoot?"

Life means less and less everyday. That is a fact. As the division between rich and poor grows ever wider, people without money are going to be ground up for meat soon enough. Their lives mean nothing. Throw some gang signs on them, and it's their own fault they're dead. They deserved it. 

This post is about  #IfTheyGunnedMeDown 

It's a smart way to see people in all their clothes. Meaning, some days I'm a thug and some days I'm a princess. All days I am the same person. 

And I don't deserve to die because I wore a hoody on Tuesday of last week when I was feeling funky and wanted the whole world to know that I was tuning them out by hiding in the waves of my hood. Or posing with some menace. Or throwing up a gang sign that I don't really understand or care about --- shit just looks cool, man. 

Check out the #IfTheyGunnedMeDown pics. See that people are just people. 

Favorite song:

Turning The Water Off In Detroit

All the ugly things

you ignore

Will one day

knock upon

your door...

With grisly face

And ghastly grin

Those fuckers will ask

To come in...

What will you say then?

The water is off for a lot of people in Detroit, Michigan. It seems to me that Detroit is being tortured by a very skilled and deliberate kind of maniac. First, Detroit was robbed of it's resources, leaving it a barren place, empty, lonely, desolate. Isolation. Solitary confinement. A booming city became an absolute ruin in my lifetime. And it wasn't burned to the ground, but smothered to death. Slowly and methodically. Secondly, the place became the stuff of nightmarish legend in its own time. "Don't go to Detroit," etc. A bad place filled with bad people. Dangerous and foreboding. There are fantasy stories about demon cities that have better legends than those of the city of Detroit. 

With all it's jobs taken away, the city of Detroit appears on little internet shows about ghost towns. Curious travelers wander dilapidated buildings during the bright and safe light of day and show the eager viewer the remnants of what once was a big beautiful American city. Blame gets tossed around about how exactly the collapse of the city happened. Was it the people? Are they so terrible? Was it Big Business moving on to less expensive labor? Was it this? Was it that? Was it mishap or malicious?

Again, the water for a lot of people has been turned off in Detroit. Because the city has nothing, then the people who remain have nothing. They can't pay their water bills and so when those water bills went over a hundred and fifty dollars, the city started turning off their water. 

THERE ARE INFANTS IN DETROIT WITHOUT CLEAN DRINKING WATER.

I can't express enough DISGUST to take that in. 

IN AMERICA--the SO-CALLED GREATEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD.

The arguments are, and there are always arguments for this kind of blatant bullshit, that the people didn't pay their water bills and, therefore, are not entitled to water. To that, I only say that water should be free. I understand all the bullshit and all the crap about the fact that it's filtered (rather) and provided with ease through faucets and shit, BUT, water should be free. A person should not be allowed to suffer without clean drinking water in America. EVER. 

In Total Recall people on Mars were being charged for AIR. That seemed so fantastical to me when I saw it for the first time. It's not so fantastical now. I can guarantee, the day it comes to pass that there is a way to charge for the stuff, many people will have their damn eyes bursting out of the sockets for lack and other people will either stand idly by and watch or relish the fact that they can afford it and look down from their air-laden chambers upon those that can not with great disdain.  

It amuses me to no end that, if some foreign dictator was doing this, America would pop its nosy ass head up and judge that guy. "How Horrible," our dear old Uncle Sam would say. "Savages!" he would cry. 

The people in Detroit aren't poor enough? They didn't go from pretty good, secure lives to abject poverty fast enough? They didn't have little enough, barely maintaining existence in what has become a fallen hell-hole. Now... they can't even have water? 

Is this murder?

Is this forcing people to move to make room for some clandestine something else?

What is this?

What is it REALLY?

What sick fucking SADIST is in control of this?

_____ Sidenote _____

I can't draw. I don't take pictures. None of the artwork here is mine, but belongs to the creativity of marvelous others. I post them because I appreciate them for one reason or another. 

Not a thief--get robbed too much for that:)