Big bully

I can always count on the Gazette’s Mark Barna to move my writer’s blockage…

I swear, he’s like Ex-Lax. Thanks, Mark.

________________

Anti-bullying programs being taught in public schools today are absolutely promoting the notion that homosexuality is perfectly normal and ok - in some cases starting as early as kindergarten – and I fail to see a good reason why.

"Don't bully Suzy because she has two dads." "Don't be mean to Howard because he feels like a girl inside." Give me a break. Here's the truth: Sally has just one father, despite what her visible and vocal father and his partner say to the contrary. And Howard has no idea what it really feels like to be a girl – CUZ HE’S A BOY.

(Pardon me whilst I digress for a moment, but which birthday, I wonder: the one when he was born a guy; or the other one...when he bought some watermelon-sized boobs and mutilated his manhood, to be born again as the girl he always knew he was inside and his teachers told him was ok to be? I mean, does he really feel prettier now? Can it even be possible for that he/she to look in a mirror and actually believe that what's reflected there today is an improvement over what once was? And yet those who announce that their spirit has been born anew in the body of Christ are mocked.)

Most kids just want to fit in at school, and that becomes harder to do with each exotic characteristic one adds to the equation - black, Christian, chubby, gay, homely, disabled, smart, stupid, slutty, doofus, a-hole, etc. Some of these characteristics are obvious and unchanging, while others are a matter of choice. Bullying is wrong, period...and parents should do what they can to raise children who are respectful of and kind to others.
 
That said, however...if you know in advance that everyone else at the party will be wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and you show up wearing a prom dress, THEN SOME PEOPLE ARE GONNA LOOK AT YA FUNNY; apparently, you were seeking for attention…and if you come to find you can't handle all the stares, then I’m sorry, but wtf did you wear the prom dress to begin with???

Call me naïve, but after being a big fan for over a decade, it came as quite a surprise when I learned in my late twenties that the band Queen was gay; I can’t say I ever really even considered Freddie Mercury’s sexuality; all I knew was that mofo could sing. And George Michael is Mom’s Gay Boyfriend, and I don’t give a damn; hell, he can sing too…and that fool is so fine, he makes me feel like a gay man inside.

Somebody call me a doctor quick -- my gender and orientation need emergency re-assignment.  Actually, looks like he might be down for a black chick like me...

Talk about confusing.

Listen, mean kids suck, and grow up to be even suckier mean people. Be proud of yourself no matter what…and if someone is bullying you, alert someone who can do something about it. If the bullying continues, then swallow your fear and fight back -- don’t just sit there and cry…and force everyone else to be taught in school what it must feel like to be you. Because we’re not .

Kids just need to become strong enough now to deal with the adults they’ll grow up and/or choose to become later; it’s called life…and it’s taught at the school of hard knocks – my own alma mater. Actually, we’ve all been there...and if we survived it, then it didn't kill us, and we're all stronger for it.

Poor kids

Dog days

Finally got to see the last Board meeting. 

Charlie -- Thank you for being you; your heart is so good.

I'm really hoping for something to happen that'll cause Lyman Kaiser to go David Banner Hulk on the Board...soon.  But not much of substance was discussed at the meeting...and you know what that means:  Spydra Superfluousness. 

As you may already know, at the end of April, all of my family's belongings were stolen -- that includes ALL of our clothing and shoes.  So, much to my dismay, I'm often seen sporting a skirt with sneakers -- one of the two pairs of shoes I possess {down from 60}.  Here, then, a focus on muckety-muck fashion, and a short discourse concerning Board Members and Administrators who HAVE plenty of ducats to always be able to dress themselves tastefully and well. 

• Jan -- Bravo and Good Job -- for once, you weren't dressed in one of your diverse clown costumes. 

• Bob -- good to see you're a strong supporter of Trailblazer now. 

• Kris Odom -- I can't help it; I like her mellow, pleasant delivery, and she really is the only one up there who demonstrates any panache.  It's so encouraging to see Kris breaking her own white-pants glass ceiling, and I'm always a big fan of the Woman's Business Suit; Labor Day's right around the corner, though, Kris:  stock up now on darker pants and shoes.

• Glenn -- Black is your color year 'round.

On Wednesday, September 1, 2010, there will be a Meet and Greet with the Board at the Admin Building from 6:00 to 7:00.  Charlie already said he won't be there...and I don't blame him; like him, I see little reason for anyone to attend, unless there's gonna be a dunking booth -- but if I WAS gonna be there, these are two questions I'd ask.

• In general:  is a heart of stone an iron-clad requirement, or is a certificate in consciencelessness sufficient for employment with the District?

• LuAnn -- just out of curiosity, what upper-lip depiliatory product she uses?  And why does her voice sound fat?

I know, I know...not much substance; what can you expect during the Dog Days of Summer.

Play by play - Episode 1, Director's Cut

You know you're a District 11 Pain In The Neck when you parse the same Board meeting every free moment for five days.  Part Two coming up tomorrow...which will include boundary maps and discussion on the upcoming Community Engagement meetings.

I'm not the best at editing movies...certainly, there's a lot for me to learn as far as transitioning goes. But I sold my fabulous laptop, and all of that stuff just takes too long anyway -- just uploading the movies takes FOREVER. So, please deal with it.

Meeting starts at the stroke of 5:30 with a quorum; Charlie isn't there; they vote to approve the agenda. LuAnn starts out slow and then speeds up, Bob and Al second quickly, "There should be no discussion I hope", twitters Jan, and all is said and done.

Funny that there was a "accelerated" change to the agenda, however...and a moment for citizen comments -- but who knew? No one was there to speak to it. 

Gledich starts out, rightly taking a moment to comment on the first day of school...faintly in the background, you can hear fussbudget Jan begin to quietly bark Danish commands at Gledich for him to move on.

LuAnn belches up dinner; Charlie walks in about 5 minutes late...but so much has already taken place.

Here's the talk surrounding the District's Referendum Against the TABOR Amendments.

I've gotta be honest with you; each member of the Board has a laptop that's capable of reading off selected text -- a feature they should utilize when it comes to reading off long proclamations; it'd be a HECK of a lot easier on the ears than listening to Bob Null drag it through the gravel.

Notice how Jan the Phony takes a stand on her job, and what's right for the District.

Did  you know that the word "ditto" in Danish translates to "I concur with Director Tanner"?

Reference is made to the passing of Mike Poore's grandmother.

Referenced also is an email sent by a concerned Lyman Kaiser.  Time and oxygen is devoted to and spent upon the explanation of loopholes around  Mr. Kaiser.

I really hope Mr. Kaiser and Mr. John Gartin pay close attention to the talk that occurs at this point, which starts around 45 minutes into the meeting. 

Watch Glenn standing next to Mike Maloney; it's something I've noticed with Jan also.  Jan, as she watches Gledich speak...and Glenn, as he watches Mike Maloney speak -- don't both Jan and Glenn remind you of ventriloquists?  Don't you want either or both of them to drink from a glass of water while the speaker is speaking, just to see?

Notice Mike Maloney's hands -- the hands of a story spinner.

Listen to Jan, Glenn and Gledich explain it all away, and LuAnn chiming in with all of her expertise.  Gledich is the personification of "mealy mouthed"...Glenn smooth, and in top form -- which I mentioned before, spells trouble for our city's school district.

Remember, Gledich arrived in Colorado right on the heels of his Florida school district's attempt to shut down 12 elementary schools...an action that was halted after being deemed racially discriminatory.  Gledich held the position of CFO in Florida.

A quick digression:  my neighbor -- Eagle Eye -- and I met with Gledich soon after his arrival to discuss our concerns regarding school closures and Jan Tanner's pizza contract; during that conversation, he admitted that it's a common practice for CFO's to keep two sets of books:  one to show the public, and the real one.  I have the audio of that meeting; Colorado is a one-party state, which means that when having a conversation, only one party need be aware it's being recorded.  I don't feel guilty about it though; Gledich didn't see me see him turn on his own voice recorder at the meeting's start.

Also, former superintendent Terry Bishop once told my neighbor -- who is well known in the district and once ran for the Board -- he said, "Eagle Eye, we can make the numbers say whatever we want."  Those two things always come to mind when I listen to Glenn talking his numbers. 

Charlie votes for tweaking; Glenn jumps on the tweak and Bogarts all of it.

They go over the draft timeline, and they try and make it all sound so mild...but from what I gather, it's exactly the same method they used in the 2008-2009 school closures...precisely the same timeline.  Only difference is that this time, rather than the public hearing the rumors of school closures after all of the studies have been completed and reviewed by the Board sometime in December, the rumors are coming to you in August courtesy of one purple spider.

Gotta admire how they try and make it sound effortless for the capacity committee to also act as the boundary committee.  I feel sorry for those committee members, certain to be surrounded by specially-selected Tanner-clique mouthpieces....believing earnestly that their input matters, when it's all just more lipservice and wasted time with the rah-rah crew.

Glenn describes the proposed process on breaking news of the upcoming boundary changes/school closures to the public.  Purple packet arrangements with John Kerr and Frank Bernhard are suggested, with these individuals cited as good picks for the job of "project lead"...

...a little surprised John Griego's name wasn't mentioned.  As an aside, methinks Frank Bernhard would benefit in general is someone slapped the constant smirk off of his face; it literally pains me in my heart to think that someone as openly condescending as Frank might actually "facilitate" this discussion with the public.

Gotta look up Western Demographics.

Part Two coming right up.

Correction

O.K., I was just double-checking some info....and it was a Theodore L. Strand who had the business interest in FL.  So...my bad.

And I have not yet checked the following facts adequately, and hence apologize for insinuating that Tom Strand's wife isn't really ill, Sandra Mann's dad isn't also ill, and Mike Poore's grandmother didn't just pass away.

Georgia Guidestones

The Georgia Guidestones

an unusual granite monument that stands in Elberton, Georgia

erected in 1979...financed by persons unknown 

with a message to humanity written in 

Russian, Hebrew, Arabic, Hindi, Chinese, English, Spanish and Swahili

as well as Greek, Sanskrit, Egyptian hieroglyphs and Babylonian cuneiform

1.  Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature.

2.  Guide reproduction wisely -- improving fitness and diversity.

3.  Unite humanity with a living new language.

4.  Rule passion -- faith -- tradition -- and all things with tempered reason.

5.  Protect people and nations with fair laws and just courts.

6.  Let all nations rule internally resolving external disputes in a world court.

7.  Avoid petty laws and useless officials.

8.  Balance personal rights with social duties.

9.  Prize truth -- beauty -- love -- seeking harmony with the infinite.

10.  Be not a cancer upon the earth -- leave room for nature -- leave room for nature.

Well, at first glance it sounds okay...until you consider that right now, there's about 7,000,000,000 of us.  So, in order to bring the world's population into the 500,000,000 range, more than 90% of the world's population would have to die.  I figure that, in order for the chosen ones to be able to procreate (which of course they'll want to do, because their kids are cuter everyone else's), 95% of the world's population would have to move or get moved, out of their way. 

THAT'S A LOT OF DEAD BODIES, FRIENDS.

Makes you wonder what some people know that the rest of us don't.  Kinda makes you wonder if you're as well-connected as you may once have believed.  Kinda brings you to wonder if you're entirely in the loop.  

I know that unless I was suddenly Super-Nice toward Jan Tanner, me and mine are probably on the "Do Not Pass Go" List.  Oh well, we'll certainly have plenty of company.  I guess I'm just not oriented that way; wasn't born that way and could NEVER choose to be that nice to Jan just for the sake of my own self-preservation -- EVER.

And so, what to do with all of us and our'n?  Well, when the sky was raining lemons, the Nazis sure could stir up one hell of a lemonade.   I've already mentioned the house-slippers made out of human hair, and lampshades made out of human skin...and just recently learned that the Nazis actually rendered folks to make soap out of 'em!  

Wow, man...!  If that's how the Nazis' were, if that's how they thought -- if they could really wash their babies with such a ghoulish soap, and then sing them lullabies by the soft, somnabular light of a Jew-skin lamp -- 

--- then the Nazis were cannibals.  THEY HAD TO BE.  There simply is no subtle segue-way between human soap and human soup; driven by insatiable lusts, indomitable superiority complexes, having absolutely rejected the very notion of God, yet in such obvious fear of their own deaths...

...well, it must just be the natural progression of things.  

I read that the Nazis were killing people at such a rate, they couldn't dispose of the bodies fast enough.  Whenever they could, they'd cremate, but it was just a matter of time before the ovens -- which ran day and night -- were overwhelmed.  Heaping piles of bodies became fuel for open-air bonfires, a practice that was stopped amid concerns it was contributing to greenhouse gases and human-induced global warming  (just kidding -- ha.).  The doomed would often first dig their own graves -- Olympic swimming pool-sized pits with a capacity for 113,000 tightly packed bodies -- but no matter how much lime and dirt was used to dissolve and disguise the truth, Mother Earth could only  regurgitate and vomit up the vile fluids of death and putrefaction...turning the Vaterland soil into the unspeakable quicksands of Hell.  

The Nazis' myopic focus on self-preservation uber alles would prove the their undoing; confident that their precise number-crunchers had factored in every conceivable, gruesome variable, only to be slowly overcome and suffocated by wave after wave of mute and unmoving corpses; the black insanity and macabre machinations of Nazi socialism, exposed by the awful beating of its victims' tell-tale hearts, all throbbing in deafening, maddening unison.  

My friends, at what price freedom? 


Somewhere in the Bible it states that in the latter days -- after humanity has accepted Satan's mark -- men will pray for death, but death will not come to them.   How can we fear death, if the alternative is to live our lives in a world so terrible?

Nothing's ever changed, some people never learn, and history is doomed to repeat itself. 

Woe, to realize that Evil always was and always is; Woe to recognize that monsters are real and all around us -- our neighbors, our families, our friends...upstairs, downstairs, in the closet, next door, up the street, around the way, down yonder...

Researching my next homespun, hometown story has brought me to Morbidville, and I guess this is a preface to it.  

"I pledge allegiance, to the flag, of the Sustainable Design of Utopia...and to the Fourth Reich, for which it stands, one world, without God, irredeemable, with  slavery and servitude for all."


Soup's on.

School days

School's back in session.  After a summer of longing for just a moment of quiet, it always, always comes sneaking up on me.

What to do with the free time? I’ll often do chores that were impractical while the kids were running to and fro -- sorting out their clothes is such a task. Fifteen years separates our oldest from our youngest...and over the years, there've been plenty of hand-me-downs which, for one reason or another, I can't bring myself to part with.  

I sit on the floor in silence, arranging three piles:  Too Small, Too Big and Just Right. Forgotten patterns printed on soft and faded fabrics catch the corners of my eyes.  A wave of melancholy washes over me, and I am moved to bury my face into the long-ago fabric I hold in my hands.  Eyes closed, I breathe in deeply, searching for just a thread of their by-gone aromas…forever interwoven somewhere deep within the fibers. 

A slideshow of lost photographs pass through my mind, always beginning with the first…barely toddling and dressed for fall…in the front yard of our house on Uintah, picking a flower and holding it up for the camera…his face a study of sober love for his mother.

It seems like it was only yesterday…but it was almost 19 years ago…

This morning our number one son left for college.

My, my, my…how time does fly.  

Boo, 

Thanks for leading the way for those who came after

Keep shining your light on those all around you

We are so proud of you, already I miss you

We love you so, God bless and keep you

- mom-

Board Meeting Cliff's Notes

Wow, can it already be Back-to-School time?  With the Colorado Springs School District 11 Weekly Board Meeting back in regular session, it would appear the answer is “yes.” 

Back-to-School time is also a great time for fun cook-outs; right about now seems like a fine time for a quick little weenie roast.

Here, then, is my synopsis of Wednesday night’s meeting – enjoy.

_____

Of course, President Strand was and is still absent with leave.  I feel for Mr. and Mrs. Strand, and pray for Mrs. Strand’s wellness. 

Isn’t it crazy how one man’s heartache can be another gal’s big break.

As the world’s foremost Janologist, I tend to study her minutely (indeed, I am in the midst of and readying an all-new post devoted entirely to her…so watch for it, because it’s a keeper).

Watching her now as she channels a bygone Alexander Haig reminds me of a spaz Chihuahua or toy poodle – frenzied, and a bit atremble…jumping about so flippin’ excited, and for no readily identifiable reason.

It IS the reason such pooches are often referred to as “Kick Me Dogs.”

But why? Is her campaign in need of the perfect 10-second sound byte?  Is she popping white-crosses?   Taking performance-enhancing steroids?  Does she suffer from an overactive bladder?  Or might there be a terrified gerbil trying to escape the confines of her butt?  I mean, Geeeze – Where Is The Fire, Jan?

(Note:  I WILL end up feeling HELLA guilty if I ever come to learn it is all due to the real risk she might wet herself…and so please – anyone able to shine a brighter light on this issue is encouraged to contact me.)

I'll admit, I was a little flummoxed when I got my first look at Jan’s white sleeveless chemise…looking like she was dressed and ready for some high-profile HWAWF event  (Hungarian Women’s Arm-Wrestling Federation).  I knew it was funny, but again, had trouble putting into words the reasons why.

As per usual -- and after only the most cursory of glances -- my husband summed up Jan’s look neatly: 

Billie. Jean. King.

Thank you, my keen-eyed better-half.

Look, I don’t know who’s dressing Jan, but he/she is Sheer Genius In Motion.  Because of the support I have for Jan and her Race for the Colorado House, I do hope she’ll consider giving that person a raise and a promotion; even better, perhaps her stylist can begin coordinating the attire for every member of Jan’s election committee. 

Moving on to Gledich.  Man…like Fox Mulder, I WANT TO BELIEVE, really I do. I just can’t stop WISHING Gledich was a real Regular Joe just like the one he tries to portray…just like the one he most definitely is not.  He had me going again this week, until delivering his Superintendent’s Report -- which was like listening to the small print being read at the end of a Ronco advertisement. 

It was a bit of a letdown not to see either Sandra Mann or Charlie Bobbitt. 

Al Loma was there…and I’m just gonna go ahead and say it now: though I still believe he is a good man, sometimes I have a hard time discerning where Mr. Loma stands on some issues – is he one of us, or one of THEM?  I sometimes find myself with the same vague misgivings for Bob Null, though the soft spot I have for him remains to this day. 

I started to write about Glenn, but it grew to be so long that it will simply have to be an upcoming post of its own. 

He was noticeably leaner, however…his hair just a bit sun-kissed…

~

Because I came in right at the very end of his Number Dissertation, this is my only comment on Glenn at this time:  Nice tie.

Regardless of my individual beefs with this one and that, it was good to see all of my imaginary friends in TeeVee Land again…mostly. 

(Oh-oh, here it comes…as always, Ms. Spydra’s big “but.”)  And this week’s Big Butt award goes to…LuAnn Long. 

I swear, this woman makes me yearn for the vapid Tami Hasling. I simply could not believe what I was hearing or seeing, though I did so with my own ears and eyes:  LuAnn sniping openly and gratuitously at Director Null  for daring to inconvenience the Board with one of his pesky whatchacallits…um, oh yeah, questions. 

Concluding that he talks way too much for far too long, LuAnn’s Hurry-Up-I’m-HUNGRY rant ended with her musing aloud if a roll of duct tape might fix Bob and his alleged jabber-jaw.

Not just once; she sniped at Bob in this manner at least twice, if not three times.

You’d think that with the thousand-year reign she’s enjoyed as a Paid District 11 Groupie, she’d know by now that meetings often run long  -- and it was only 11:05; either the woman has no stamina, or she needs to pack a bigger lunchbox.

(um…by the way…when will the District again be accepting applications for Fawning D11 Shill? Cuz Sista Girl needs a Job).

Better yet, taping LuAnn’s mouth shut with duct tape might be a more affordable alternative to wiring her jaw shut or stapling hers stomach into fifths.  Clearly, she needs help in fighting her obvious food addiction; it can’t hurt, it’s fully reversible…and after all, she’s never once uttered a single word that could be defined as a meaningful contribution to any discussion of the Board. 

“I have no comments, I agree with Director Tanner, I have nothing to say, and so see, I’m done speaking already, don’t you wish you were a more efficient Board Director like me…” 

Is she tripping?!? How dare that silly bitch! 

ATTENTION LUANN:  NO ONE ENVIES OR WISHES TO EMULATE YOU.

Here is gospel, friends:  LuAnn Long is nothing more than Jan Tanner’s fat hand-puppet – I mean, talk about useless…and call me an obese-O-phobe if you will, but it has been disgusting to watch LuAnn as she French-kissses her BFF Jan’s ass – I’m talking with tongue, and right there in public! – in exchange for the free Scooby Pizza Snacks Jan slips her under the table.

I am, right here and right now, offering my services to personally duct-tape wrap LuAnn’s fat trap shut, gratis.

And that’s all I have for today – toodles!

Come to Meetin' Night

For my family, the first half of 2010 was fraught with upheaval.  We experienced the loss of our home and the theft of nearly everything we owned; faced with a paucity of local jobs and exorbitant house rental rates left us with no choice but to move away from the Adams neighborhood; away from the many people there that I knew and called “friend”…and away from the Adams Elementary School building…the closing of which crept into and took hold of a sleeping Spydra’s mind, rousing her from her dormancy.

I shed surprisingly few tears over it all…but inside, my heart and soul were pierced by a soundless and awful spear of grief.  Thinking about my awesome porch swing -- which overlooked the Adams school building and park right across the street – would trigger a fog of stifling sadness. At times, things could appear very bleak -- heck, they’re still a little on the bleakish side right now, to be perfectly honest. 

But the roiling waters of the ocean of my mind have since steadied and calmed, and within me is a deep and abiding peacefulness.  My bitterness did mercifully ebb, and anger can find no foothold within me.  As I gaze upon the aftermath, it becomes plain that my husband and I weathered our most recent storm very much intact; we are in love again like we were when we were teenagers, and as long as that is the case, I'm very happy.

I ascribe my emotional healing to Divine Timing: the plague of personal calamities drew to a close right at the start of summer vacation…most of which we’ve been fortunate enough to spend poolside -- and in case you didn’t know it before, I really love to swim.  Mmmm…

And so, what a nice, long, hot and happenin’ summer it’s turned out to be for us.  My daughter learned how to swim.  I am imbued and invigorated with new life…the spirit within me born again of the water. In many ways, it feels as though I’m on a real-life, bona fide writing sabbatacal at some resort – just without benefit of pay from a like-minded and supportive benefactor. 

And I…?  Well, I feel like I just got my hair cut real short and liked it; I feel just like I lost 1,000 pounds; truly, I feel just like a dark and exotic Chanel No. 5 woman.

If I added up all of the words I’ve ever written over the course of my life, I doubt their sum total would come anywhere near my prodigious output of the past year.  I’ve researched and written so much over this summer especially…work beside which I stand proudly and unflinchingly.  

Not much of that work shared any direct links to District 11…and since my District School Mates seem also to have gone fishin’ for the summer, they were for me very much out of sight and out of mind – and what a relief it has been! That’s certainly not to say that they’d slipped my mind -- for indeed, some of them seem almost to have taken up residency right at the tip of my tongue! But my Evil Boyfriend incubus and Evil Girlfriend succubus have not appeared recently in my dreams; they have not taken hold and possessed me as they had before, and seem to have relaxed their iron Vulcan grips on my psyche…at least for the summer.

I was just be-boppin’ around the house in such an uplifted state the other day when I happened to look at the clock and see it was 9:30.  “Hey wait -- is today Wednesday,” I wondered – and it was;  again I wondered, “Is it already Come to Meetin’ Night?”   And it was!

Remembering that Quick Draw McTanner was onboard to man the helm, I figured I probably already missed it; I lackadaisically patted our sofa in the hope that it would burp up the remote in return – it did.  I was already promising myself to catch the weekend re-runs as I lackadaisically clicked through the channels…

And then came that garrulous, unmistakable voice: THANK GOD FOR BOB NULL. 

It’s been a while since I last expressed that sentiment about him, and boy, does it feel good;  I feel so good right now… swimming-pool clean and crystal clear. Catching the last half of the very first Board meeting of the new school year, well before the Fat Lady sang, was an unexpected delight, and just as invigorating for me as an early morning dip in the pool -- safe, soft and familiar some how…reminding me of the many reasons why I am, and always will be, an absolute District Eleven SUPA-NERD-AHOLIC.

In a few hours, I’ll be posting my comments on that meeting – suffice it to say, I recommend that the viewing audience tune in tonight and/or tomorrow night – do whatever ya gotta do to witness the last 15 minutes of it for yourself.

On the Black Tea Party...

OK, this topic has moved me for some time...and now with all of the racism allegations being leveled against the Tea Party movement, it's a good time to address this.

Ya know, Ms. Spydra is no spring-chicken; she's been around on this planet for more than 40 years.  The first time my race was brought to my attention was when I was five years old...by another five year old.  "You're black," she pronounced.  "No, I'm brown," said I.  "Brown is black," said she.  

It was hard for me to accept this truth, and it took a long time; after all, my father is "black" and my mother is "white", a fact explained by several of my elementary schoolmates as displeasing to God.  But if we were all *really* black or white, mixing the two together would form a shade of grey: blacks would be shadows, whites would be ghosts, and greys would still be E.T.s.

Our skins are all the same wonderful blends they've always been.  

Surely, I pondered, there must be a better, more accurate term to describe my mixed heritage; and indeed, over time, I learned there were all kinds:  mulatto, half-breed, zebra, oreo, mongrel, ad nauseum, etc. --  all, simply variations of the concept of "nigger"...a word first hurled at me by a boy in third-grade; I kicked him hard in the shin.  

Indeed, every time I've taken up fisticuffs was provoked by that word...but certainly, not every time I've been so named, or told to "go back to Africa" have I put up my Dukes, and thank God --  after all, I'm a lover, not a fighter...I'm a writer, not a boxer, and frankly, it's hard enough to try and keep a pretty face.

Moreover, I find it unbecoming -- much.

Over time I've come to learn that those who enjoy painting others with the Either-Or brush all have one thing in common:  they're simple.  They're unpolished and unsophisticated, often at a loss for words (especially around me), and "nigger" is the meanest thing they can think of to say.

My repertoire is considerably more robust.  

I've come to learn to pick my battles wisely.  I am not so easily divided, and have small tolerance for weak minds.  

Stupid people are what they think; they hail from every spectrum, and are of untold number.  Whenever possible, I avoid and ignore them; but if they persist -- in my face and stuck on stupid -- I'll stand my ground.  If Einstein wants, he can try and make me move....and perhaps he'll succeed; but I refuse to simply surrender.

This whole thing about the Tea Party being racist is a lie being perpetuated by simpletons eager to change the subject.  It's not an argument about black and white; it's about liberty, and deciding where we stand as a nation.

I might be half-black and half-white, but you can bet your sweet bippy, I'm all American, and proud of it; I love my country...this glorious ground upon which I stand.

Where do you stand? 

My friends, are we smart, or are we stupid?

 Is this the man we chose to lead us into tomorrow?
Are we not Americans?  Do we not love our country?

Do we love it enough to protect it, and each other?

Are we so simple as to be divided and conquered from within?

Are we so complacent?  Will we go quietly?

Will ye not raise up your voices?  

Will we not stand our ground?