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America is Black

America is ninety percent Black. Now that statement will stir up the pot...the melting pot, that is.

In America, a black person is defined as someone who has one drop of black blood. This is a cultural definition not a legal one. At least not a legal one any more, as many racist laws were repealed in almost all states. It is a curious way to define a black person, one drop of blood. This suggests that white people can only be white if they are pure blood. But, how can you tell? All black people, examined so far, have red blood, same as white people. Yet, this definition persists.

Most of us use visualization, your skin color, to tell if you are to be classified as black or white. That makes more sense. But there are many light black people, so light that they look white. In days of old, the expression was, passing, as in passing for white. I suppose one could to start walking around with a microscope and examining skin cells to tell who is who.

But wait, science has stepped up and compli…

Cannon Fodder

Sometimes, when I am early to work and I do not want to sit at my desk, I sit in the building’s lobby. I sip my coffee and engage in employee watching. I watch this mass of humanity stream by. I wave to the smattering of people I know as they rush to clock in. We have some really pretty women who work here and I don’t know enough of them. The people come into the building in surges. I suppose one could link the surges to the train schedule. I am guessing here, I think there are some five thousand people working in this building.

And what do we all do here? Cumulatively, we are contributing to the world in some way. The world is a better place from what we all do but, as individuals, we are lost in this pile of humanity. There is a great amount of unrealized talent in the building, in the people, just wasting away. We are replaceable cogs. What notable accomplishment can we put next to our names? We had a young woman pass away suddenly. The rest of us insisted that there should be a quic…

twin sisters

Two fairies hovered, surveying the rubble of their home. Hurricane Maria finally passed. This was the second hurricane - Irma was the first - within the last month.

"All our food and water are lost. What do we do now?" asked Amberle.

Their Caribbean paradise vacation home was a mixture of flattened bricks, broken furniture, downed trees, and mud.

"We can join the humans until the Fairy King sends help," answered Catania. "I don't think we have other choices here."

"Oh dear," replied Amberle. "We must disguise ourselves. The humans will be frightened when they see us. Do you know how to transform?"

Catania nodded. "This is my first attempt to be human. Just take a deep breath, and blow yourself up, like this."

Catania sucked in a large breath, and with a closed mouth, exhaled internally. Her cheeks puffed, her torso lengthened, arms and legs stretched, until her six-inch frame became a five-foot girl.

"You did it!" admi…

Crushed

Bill Cosby is guilty of rape. I knew he was guilty when a boatload of women came forward. If it was one or two, I might say, maybe. They might be the scammers his defense lawyers claims. But so many women came forward. They all can't be scammers and liars.

It's such a shock. Bill was known as America's Dad but he was more than that. He was a pioneering black actor in the 1960s TV show I Spy. He supported many children's causes. His comedy shows were clean - no bad words or nakedness. He was a hero and a role model for both black and white men everywhere.

The puzzle is why did he rape women? There was no need for him to rape women. He was a movie star, wealthy, and good looking. There were women who desired him and would have quite willingly done whatever he wanted. No casting couch needed here. I have heard that rape is about power over women. He had that power as an attractive bedmate.

I don't know why he didn't go down the Tiger Wood road. Tiger Woods also k…

Because. That's Why.

My husband Carl and I have a Sunday morning ritual that dates back as long as he's been working at his current job. Maybe longer than that. I get up at 7:00 and leave the house at 8:00 to drive him to work. I drop him at a nearby gas station, unless the weather is extremely inclement. He likes to go into the store, buy a pack of smokes, and walk the quarter-mile or so to the restaurant. Even if it's raining, he can manage with his big black umbrella. Then I go to Starbucks, or some other breakfast-type place, and usually do my portion of the grocery shopping afterward. The rest of the day is mine.

We do this because on Sundays, the buses don't start running until later, so he needs a ride.

At this point in the conversation, someone will often ask, "Okay, I know you only have the one car, but can't you let him take it and drive himself in just one day a week?"

No. Because Carl doesn't drive.

Monsters under the Bed

Here's a funny thing, I have a video game that I use to practice flying planes. I am terrible at it because I keep worrying about crashing the plane. Huh??? It's a video game. Crashing planes has no impact on anything. No one dies. If I crash, all I have to do is press the reset button. I know this. I have done it many, many, many times and yet, I still worry about crashing. 

That's what fear can do to you, create imaginary dangers where none exist.

My friend and I were chatting about why we aren't rich. One of the most common ways to get rich is investing in real estate. Buy a home and rent it out. The tenant will eventually pay for the mortgage and the up keep of the house. Do this couple more times and we would end up owning valuable properties and be rich. We could use some of the equity in our homes to get started. Yet we do nothing.

That's what fear can do to you.

Our lives are full of imagined dangers. I think it comes from watching too much tele…