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Showing posts from April, 2008

Dude, Where's My Lawn Sign?

I joked about it. With family, friends, and online.

But I didn’t really think it could happen.

Now really, who would be so bold? Bold enough to come like a thief in the night – literally – and take it.

Take what, you ask?

My Obama for President lawn sign. Somebody actually had the nerve, the temerity, the – whatever you want to call it – to rip my lawn sign from its rusty posts and leave the posts behind as some wicked monument to their crime.

Evildoers!

Well, to whomever it was, you’re on notice: I got more money than you’ve got cojones. There will be another Obama for President lawn sign on my front lawn. And with each purchase, the Obama campaign gets $14.00 richer. That’s right –stealing my lawn sign will only make the Obama campaign that much richer.

But don’t let me catch you. ‘Cause I will -- as they say down South – “beat you like you stole something.”

Your Women's Do-It-Yourself Self-Esteem Kit

“You may not get what you deserve in this life, but you’ll damn sure get what you settle for.”

My friend “Trevor”

I spent the weekend with one of my favorite female relatives, and she was recounting her horrible marriage to her ex, a much older man who, in my opinion, is worth more to the world decomposed than alive. That aside, she told me how he had called her his “retirement plan” because he had had no intention of working and had planned to live off of her, until she got wise and divorced him.

I asked her how she had gotten into such a sorry relationship to begin with. Her response: Lack of self-esteem.

Mothers (and fathers, for that matter), can you imagine how much heartache and pain you could spare your daughters if you sent them out into the world armed with self-esteem?

Now, I’ll be the first to admit, I’ve got way too much self-esteem. Not the kind of self-esteem that would make me try to squeeze my size fourteen behind in a thong and size eight Daisy Dukes. I’m talking abou…

Remember the Time?

I watched a lot of footage of events marking the 40th anniversary of the assassination of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I remember as a four year-old seeing a photo of Dr. King on the cover of either Ebony or Jet, with him laid out in his coffin. I remember thinking at that time, “Why do they have a picture of this man sleeping in his bed on this cover? What a pretty bed it is.” It took me a while to figure out that, one, he wasn’t sleeping, and two, although pretty, it wasn’t a bed. I would never really understand the enormity of the loss and the sacrifice he made for me until I was older.

On Friday I also watched HBO’s “The Boycott,” featuring Jeffrey Wright as Dr. King and Terrence Howard as Rev. Ralph Abernathy during the time of the Montgomery Bus Boycott. Clearly they weren’t cast because they looked like the people they were playing, but Wright, who is most certainly assured of an Academy Award somewhere down the line, captured Dr. King’s cadence and what I imagined to …

You Really (Don't) Like Me

"You like me. You really like me."

Sally Field, upon winning her second Academy Award for "Places in the Heart"

When I was young, it used to upset me when people didn't like me for no reason at all. My mother used to tell me that there are people who aren't going to like you just because, and it has nothing to do with you. To me, it just defied logic -- how could you dislike someone who has done nothing to you?

Now that I'm older, I totally understand what my mother was trying to tell me. And my attitude has changed, too. In my twenties and thirties, I would have seen someone's unmerited dislike of me as a challenge, and I would have waged a personal PR campaign to prove myself worthy of being liked by them.

Now that I'm in my forties, eff 'em. Including the ones I'm related to.

That was the hardest part -- accepting that, yes, there are people I'm related to who don't like me. For reasons unrelated to me, for things I've n…