First to blame, first to praise are

your parents in general mommy in particular. When you watch the super bowl, world series, NBA final,

Stanley cup, or whatever they call the champion of Nascar who is the first person they that mention?

Mommy of course who else is there? Even when some movie star is getting an Oscar for playing

a retarded person in some indie movie is thanking his or her parents they really mean “Thank You

Mom!” If some person wins some award and forgets to thank dad he is not going to have

his feelings hurt, dad if after all a man. Mommy would not feel the same. She would consider this a

slight and although she would never mention it she would always remember. Praise is essential to the

female psyche and it is twofold for the woman who gave you birth. I would pay to see the look on the

face of a single mother who raised her boy and his siblings struggling thru hard times to become the first

man to land on Mars and he neglects to acknowledge his mother with even a “Hi mom” That would be

something to behold. Let’s be honest there is no way a man or woman forget to thank the person who is

the foundation of all human life. Mommy is God, protector, healer and toy giver.

With that being said when a person has had a hard life and things have not quite worked out for an

individual one of the first things they recognized is there crappy childhood. If your mother wasn’t there

to protect you when Uncle Joe stayed with you and visited your room nightly for three weeks who gets

the blame? Who do you look at as the person who has doomed you into working mind numbing

degrading fast food, the customer abuse of retail or the repetitive reality of a factory job? If you’re a

drug addict who’s pleasuring men for ten bucks a pop in some abandoned flop house you may tend to

look back at the defining moments in your life and you remember mommy being drunk all the time and

bringing home strange men.

Is it mommy and daddy’s fault your life in fantastic beyond anything you could have imagined or terrible

to the point where suicide seem like a sweet relief. The answer is yes and no. Yes your formative years

are exceedingly important in how you deal with the trial and tribulations that life throws your way. A

loving caring mommy’s don’t have children who grow up to be serial killers. Gacy, Dahmer ,Bundy and

Kemper all were raised by morally questionable mothers. Gary Ridgeway’s mother would dress like a

hooker around the house. On the other hand if your parents (mommy) raised you with a modicum of

love and caring they can at the very least raise a person who is a beneficial member of society or

maybe just maybe you can have your name mentioned on national TV and shout “HI MOM!”.

Questions black people have asked me

First of all I have a blog call “Questions white people have asked me?” so don’t think
I’m picking on you black people.


you’re right angry black woman who doesn’t know anything about me except you see my white
wife and three beige kids so clearly I hate my mother with a passion to the point were
I go find a white girl to show my mother how I much distain I have for her. It’s a shame my
plan didn’t work and my wife and mother love and respect each other and that my mother
lives with me and my mixed rainbow family. As far as marrying a white woman to control
you clearly don’t know the wife.


some nigga actually said that to me at a worksite. I looked at him for about ten seconds
and laughed in his face. I didn’t have any other way to respond to that question. I
guess if I was a Muslim he would have offered me a slab of pork ribs and a bottle of
Night Train.


sorry ignorant niggas of the world that my mother thought it was a good idea to send me to a
catholic school for my grade school years. I’m sorry that I use good diction when I talk
to people. I’m sorry I don’t have a different way to speak to black when it’s just “us”


What I should say is that rock start from white guys trying to be like black blues men
and people like Little Richard and super freak like Chuck Berry. Without those guys
there would be no Rolling Stones, the Beatles, Cream or Led Zeppelin. I could tell them
that but niggas don’t like learning so………

Raymond stories

My little brother Raymond had a bad stutter when he was small. My aunt Wanda said that he’d been

tickled too much as a baby, which is of course an old wives tale. The funniest thing that ever happened

to him that I saw was when my brothers and I were on our way home from school and we were on the

California ave bus when pudding tang (nick name) had to pee and there was nothing to pee into so he

had his first accident of the day. After we got off the bus and were less than a mile away from home he

had to go number two and he of course could not hold. I remember thinking as he shook his leg to

remove the poop that was travelling slowly down his pant legs that seeing him do that was

funny, disgusting, and sad as hell all at the same. Older brother being put off by the sight

walked ahead of us and I can recall thinking he was not my real brother because we had different

daddy’s. For some ungodly reason Ray always had snot running down his nose covering his lower lip

(that’s how I remember it anyway) regardless of the time of year or what was going on snot ran down

his nose

Back in the day My mother bought Raymond and I an S-Curl kit. I assume most of you are white and

have no idea what I’m talking about. S-Curl was/is a hair texturizer (it makes the knappy hair more

manageable) like the Jheri Curl (If my white friends don’t know what I am talking about go to

Wikipedia or watch Coming To America) but it was a do it yourself home kit and the chemical

that made the hair more manageable was a lot weaker with the S-Curl. I was the first to undergo

the process. I can tell you that it did burn those last few minutes and I was more then happy to

rinse that shit out of my hair. Did it work? I don’t have the knappiest hair in the world (one

white grandfather does that) so yes it did. Raymond’s hair was slightly finer. I don’t know

if that had anything to do with his reaction to the chemicals of the “hair maker betterer” but

it was not fucking nice. About three minutes after putting the S-Curl in his hair he started

to tell my mother it burned. “You have to keep it in for like twenty minutes Ray.” Is what my

mother told him. About two minutes later “Momma this burns! this burns bad momma!” He start to

actually jump up and down and run back and forth in the apartment. “Momma wash it out! wash it

out now!” By this time I am almost fucking crying this was so funny. He is running in place with

his eyes popping out of his fucking head. My mother is not a cruel woman so she washes the S-

Curl out of his scalp but she laughs nearly the entire time she’s doing it. The texturizer did

indeed work but Raymond’s scalp was beet fucking red and you could literally see his head throb.

That was so fucking funny!

Ed stories


Before my brother began avoiding legitimate jobs like the plague he actually held a few that

must have been at least decent. The first year that we lived on 16th and Kominsky he got a car.

Unlike most men I am not a big car guy so I can tell you with a degree of uncertainity that I think

the car was a Monte Carlo 83′ to 86′ maybe. The car was pretty fucking nice to be honest. Who

had ever owned it kept it in good condition and the black finish was pretty good too. He gave

us all a ride and my mother stated that she wanted him to take her to the store to get

groceries. Ed agreed and he left. After not seeing him for the next few days my mother became

nervous. The next time we saw him he didn’t have the car anymore. He told my mother that he

drove it in a ditch and just left it there. The story sounded like bullshit because it was bullshit.

What person is going to leave a car in a ditch and just say “Oh well I guess it’s back to public

transportation for me.” when you’ve had the car less than two weeks. My mother could never

get the truth out of him as to what actually happened so we came up with our own theories as to

what transpired. We came up with two possibilities on the mystery of the vanishing car. One

was the person who sold the car to my brother was not actually the owner and either the cops

picked him up or the owner of said car found his rightful property. Two: he went on a drug

binge and sold the car for crack or heroin. I know what some of you are thinking maybe he got

car jacked ? Car jacking is nothing new where I was born and nothing to really be ashamed of if

two niggas roll up on you and put a gun to your face and threaten to blow your head off. Unless

of course you were somewhere you did not belong (crack house).


The mother’s friend lived next to us on the first floor. On the second was a woman who lived

there with her son who I am pretty sure had Down Syndrome. She was plain but had a nice pair

of tits. The two houses must have been very similar because the windows on the second floors

matched up perfectly. We normally had a blanket over the window but it must have fallen

down or something because this woman was looking in directly at me. The incident happened

in the morning while I was getting ready for school. I don’t remember not having morning wood

in those days and so I’m pretty sure I had a hard on as she watched me change my clothes to

get ready for school. I hadn’t notice someone was watching me until I had most of my clothes

on. It didn’t bother me much that a older lady was looking at me but I had kind of wished she

had been prettier looking. I told everyone about this of course and my mother seemed to be a

little pissed about. My older brother Ed went over there and fucked her. Weeks later I can

recall him telling me she was crazy and not in a good way. She would fuck him and then try

to kicked his ass seconds later. Oh well better him then me.

The dick

From time immemorial the Dick has been the “ruler” of his environment by suppressing his

main adversary which also  happens to be his partner and lover the Pussy. The war between the

Pussy and Dick was lopsided to say the least. With the help of its secret weapons the Balls,

which exuded copious amounts of  testosterone into its erect body, the Dick won the war in

less than a generation and has until recent times controlled all aspects of the Pussy telling it

what to eat, think and what to do with its body.Even now the Dick threatens the Pussy on a

daily basis with violence and “violation”. Thus the Pussy has had to get her own Dick to protect

her. The protector Dick promising to guard His Pussy and anything that comes out of it. Old  and

rich Dick sends young and poor Dick to fight His wars and “police actions” for greed, profit and

power to sadly return to his homeland a mangled and mentally damaged Dick. Rich and

powerful  Dicks maintains its prestige and money by marrying His offspring to other rich and

powerful Dicks. Dicks form esoteric and overt organizations to ensure that knowledge and

technologies that would empower poor Dicks and Pussies are kept under wraps for decades or

forever. Dicks have used the three G’s (gold, god, and glory) as an excuse to enslave Dicks and

Pussies of other colors. Religious Dick has used force to convert native Dicks away from the

worship of their ancestors all the while promising  the native and black Dick and Pussy “While

you have a life of hardship now God will reward you in the afterlife.” Muslim Dicks still suppress

His Pussy sometimes keeping them from a basic education. Amish Dicks are known to be

abusive to His Pussy and offspring. In the past few decades a understanding   by

a few Dicks and Pussies who see the world for what it is and can see the lies perpetrated by

Dicks who want YOU dumb, scared and unorganized. These Dicks and Pussies have not only

begun to speak out against the way the world is run but have taken actions to not only change

the thought processes of themselves but their children and any who will listen. I have  one

question for the Dicks and Pussies who want to make this world right. What steps have you

taken to ensure this?

Random shit I wouldn’t normally say but……. it’s a slow day.

I want to tell my 17 year old son to “do” a few 2’s, 3’s and 4’s to learn how to be a good lover so that he

can have a leg up when he gets to 7’s,8’s or 9’s he knows what he is doing. Then it remembered that

really pretty girls don’t know how to fuck.

My racism only comes out during sports. If I’m watching boxing I always want the black guy to win.

I don’t care  how  out of this league the black boxer is I hope he can get off a lucky shot and knock out

the Hispanic or white guy.

I simply don’t give a fuck about being fat. It means nothing to me to die of a massive stroke or to

keel over after a especially good dinner. I don’t care if people eat their raw organic macrobiotic diet.

Regardless of what you do your and everyone one you know is going to die and for the  most of you it

is going to be full of pain or in a state of delirium.

I laugh at retarded people sometimes. I know it’s not right and the last time I did it  in front of another

person I was about seven and got the shit beat out of me for it.

The  Aborigines of Australia  are the ugliest people on the face of the earth.

My empathy zone goes as far as the people I know. That bombing in Boston upset me as far as it

preempted Revolution. Wft!

I voted for Barack Obama to see the look on all the white faces at work. I simply don’t trust any person

who runs for any office. They always have an agenda and it never seems to benefit anyone I know. But

to see  the look on all the depressed white faces was simply “filling”. You would have thought that they

caught their mate  fucking their best friend.

I actually hate when people  post how much they love their  children. FUCK YOU!!!!!!!  The vast majority

of people who aren’t sociopaths love the people they had a hand in making. Everyone assumes you love

your kids you stupid fuck!! Do you think people look at your kids and think “Your mommy / daddy

doesn’t love you” Is that what you think  as you post copious amounts of your kids pics on facebook

you simple bastard. Unless it’s my kids of course. My kids look better then your kids.

On the redline


In Chicago St. Pat’s is one of the biggest days for white people to get shit face drunk and

take public transportation as so to avoid arrest. Not that St. Pat day is exclusive for the

whites but let’s be honest when you say everyone is a little bit Irish on that particular

holiday the Irish did not mean the niggers, spics and chinks.

That St. Pat’s day of 94′ was of particular fun for me and Tyrone because of a rather odd

happening on the Chicago elevated trains. I don’t honestly remember why I was

on the west side of the city but as usual my partners in crimes were  my brother

Raymond or my very young uncle Tyrone and this day it was both. We had  gotten off the

number twenty nine bus at state and Chicago. Drunk revealers packed the downtown area. We

went underground to catch the redline. More drunk ass people on the platforms acting out

using the excuse of some saint driving out all of the snakes from Ireland to get wasted

The three of us entered an over crowed rail cart and tried to find some seats to puts our

asses in because the Grandville station was more then a few stops up north to my apartment

and the future wife. Tyrone and I found two seats together while Raymond found a place to rest

that about three  to four in front of us. As usual he had his headphones on to ignore the

people around him. Tyrone and I had a direct line of sight on him but he was oblivious to us.

If you have ever been of a crowded “L” you know that it sways quite a bit when it’s going fast

and you accidentally bump into all around you. That can’t be help and no one really makes a

big deal about it. About three or four stops after we were seated I noticed a odd little white

guy standing over Raymond. This creepy fucker began to purposely thrust his crotch into the

side of my brother’s face. Every time the train rocked in a way that it would naturally push this

pervert to my brother.  He  inch closer and closer to Raymond’s face and shoulder. My first

instinct was to get up and tell  what this fucker was doing. Then I realized that I would be losing

my seat if I did that and my younger brother had always been a bit of a homophobe and that made

this that much funnier. So I did the next best thing and told Tyrone that this guy was trying to put

dick and balls on Raymond’s face and shoulder. When we got off at Grandville we told him what

was going on and he was of course pissed that we didn’t tell. His rage made the situation that much


when i want to go……. I’ll go!!!!!

Let me get this straight If I have Alzheimer’s on good days I might remember my wife, my children and

everything that made me the person who I am. On bad day I can’t remember the color red but taking

my own life is a sin because some people thousands of years ago decide all life was precious and there

for my suicide was some kind of unforgivable sin. Molesting children is an unforgivable sin, raping

women is an unforgivable. putting ketchup on a good all beef hotdog is an unforgivable sin. Wanting

to end my life before I am a husk of my former shelf is hardly a sin in my world. If I have stomach

cancer and have to have a morphine to keep me from using a sharp knife to cut out the never ending

pain gnawing of my own body slowly killing itself you mean to tell my because you don’t believe in

euthanasia I have to go on living a nightmare of nearly unimaginable torture. Then I have say fuck

you in no uncertain terms. A lot of the things that piss me off are merely pet peeves, this a

psychotic break with reality. Where the hell does anyone get off telling someone else how they

should live their final days if said person is a walking, talking, living all purpose piss and shit

box. If I need a woman or man who barely makes minimum wage to get me out of the bed, walk me to the

bathroom, help me pull my pants down to defecate and make to sure I wipe my crack properly to avoid

streaks I hope I’m cognizant enough to take sleeping pills while slashing my wrist with my head in a

oven. Your telling me that because some primitive post caveman who thought the sun moved around the

earth, dragons were waiting for you at the end of the world and who have faith in the story of a young

girl who claimed she was untouched by man yet pregnant mandated this belief in living with intolerable

pain to the masses so it must be true. I reiterate this again screw you and whatever superstitions you

adhere to. PS, this story of a virgin giving birth to a messiah is a lot older the Jesus people

nigga’s vs black people

Let me first start off by saying if you make less than one hundred and fifty thousand a year( and I don’t

count doing a ungodly amount of over time) you are what I call a socio economic nigger. Don’t be

ashamed if you are most of the people I know are. It just means in the eyes of conservative republicans

you don’t make enough to be treated like a human and your children are cannon fodder for wars we

have no business being in (sorry that diatribe is for another chapter)

The black people versus nigga debate has been done but this is my owned slanted view. Most black

aren’t going to like me writing this down and letting the world know our major problem in black

America are niggas plain and simple. It is my contention that fifty percent of the black people living in

America today are……….Niggas. When I say nigga I don’t mean poor people. Flavor flav, half the black

sports stars, most of the rap stars you see on Mtv (I said rap not hip hop there is a difference) are for the

most part niggas. A poor black man or woman who will steal food or commit a small crime to get their family

thru another day. a nigga will take what is not his to buy a new pair of Nikes. A nigga will deal drugs to

live the life he sees on tv or listens to on some gangsta rap bull shit. A smart black will deal drugs to

accumulate wealth so that his children and grandchildren never have to dirty their hands. That black

person is leaving a legacy just like a Kennedy. The nigga goes to jail never the be with his family. I grew

poor as hell and I have done “nigga moves” on three or four time occasions tops. When it comes down

you are a nigga if you want to be. In conclusion, Michael Vick a rich nigga who couldn’t leave the ghetto

behind. Oprah Winfrey, well you now her story. Black people GOOD niggas BAD.

While I’m at it screw you OJ Simpson. You kill two white people and don’t have the common sense to stay

out of the lime light. That’s a dumb nigga move if I ever seen one. Did you think they would forget you

killed your white ex wife and her Jewish boyfriend and think it was safe to come out and play again?

Really? Robert Blake had his wife killed and you haven’t seen one hair on his wife killing head. OJ

Simpson = nigga

The good old days?

I love when older black people go on and on about how times were so different and better when they were

growing up, really? They always neglect to mention that if they were caught on the wrong side of the

city (while being black of course) they would have had their asses handed to them by young Irish or

Italian men. That doesn’t seem like a lot of fun to me. An older Italian gentleman who was supervisor at

a grocery store I worked at the time inform me how he and his friends would chase any coloreds out

of his neighbor after sun down (yes he said coloreds). The “good old days” when minorities and women

could only be maids, factory workers or secretaries, those “good old days”? Every social ill that we have

today we had sixty years ago. There were drug addicts sixty years ago, there were prostitutes sixty years

ago, there were republicans sixty years ago. Do you really miss when you could call a spade a spade?

Should we go back to the days were a boss could sexually harass a female worker until she gave into his

demands or quit her job. Racism was very overt sixty years ago should we use separate water fountains

again? I think what people really mean is that when they wore rose colored glasses and things seemed

different. Those glasses were broken in the late sixties (thank your god) and only conservative Christians

are trying to glue them back together. It seems to me that the people with all the power are now po’d

because they only have most of the power. My mother told me stories of how when she was a little girl

growing up in Chicago how black people had their stores to shop in along Madison Ave. She told me she

rarely even went downtown because everything she need was in her neighborhood. That was until blacks

burnt it all down after the King assassination. The good old days are gone because someone older

burned it to the fucking ground.