Explanation Point Needed Immediately! Part 1

For years I’ve been trying to delicately share with folks how the overuse of the exclamation point is seriously becoming an American epidemic of great proportion, yet the non-existence of an explanation mark is a crime when it comes to our language smart-phone syntax

“Call me!” sometimes can be the surrender between an actual return phone call and an unintended audial eye roll

“Where are you!!”, is simply not a question anymore, but moreover an accusation of something complicit, fantastical or maybe even sinister, depending on who is double exclaiming this question on the other end of your line

Is it my mother? Well this can’t be good, is what I would think if I got this text tomorrow morning (not sure if this sentiment implies immortal childhood perception of wrong-doing on my behalf or not, I expect it might be, but my story is currently about how explanation over exclamation points is a much needed mark in our digital world today)

Is it my best friend? Better used if it is, because then this text would imply I’m missing out on something fun and must get to them as soon as possible is what I would think if I got this text tomorrow evening

Is it my boss? Nothing but anxiety and virtual non-stop “what did I not do or forget this time?” would be the never ending symposium of employment fear is what I’d think until he or she got back to me a few days later and they forgot why they sent it in the first place. The ability to have enough self discipline while having the understanding of nothing more than life isn’t perfect might be the only thing delegating our fear of failure from our virtuous instincts for success, I guess this is why most entrepreneurs take partners at first only to realize how big of mistake that decision was later. I too made this mistake in my twenties, I will write a story shortly about how little we truly know about people until you become partners in business

Now to let my Mommy Gah tell it, my use of the exclamation point over her explanation point is no better received than a back-handed insult from a front-handed finger pointing you in the right direction yet forever repelling everyone because of my actual use of my finger to begin with, is a dialogue my mother and I have had for years

“It’s not what you say Michele that is the problem, it’s how you say it that messes things up for you”, was a daily hymnal of my mothers as a child.

Life in the eyes of inflection can be as frustrating as a hang nail on a toe you can’t reach anymore and you’re too embarrassed and old to go ask “tickle-tickle” to dig it out for you

You see, for years I’ve worked with my younger sister Alice, “the baby of my middle age-youth”, as I called her when she was four and I was seventeen.

And although there can be no other living soul I love more than my Mommy Gah, it has been the children in my life that bring me the most amount of joy, yet fear of failure or fatigue was always a head stone away from me while helping raise them. I often talk about my biggest fear in life, the loss of a child is truly almost a daily disability thought for me, and yet I suspect the only social security we can give to this notion is what my mother said to me the other day,

“Michelllllee, a kid is going to be exposed to a lot of things. Hopefully they never get hurt but there are freak accidents that happen no matter how safe you think you have brought up your children to be, just like Chris’s head injury off his tricycle two feet from us and your accidents, like the tree falling on an entire t-ball team. There are enough things we can worry about without going off the deep end on little things like sledding at Pine Oaks that yes can end up badly but in this case did not. Please for gods sake have more respect for your sister’s mothering abilities than you obviously do. Worry, ok. But don’t go further than necessary by always telling her she is wrong about everything. Just think how stifled you would have been if we had kept you from doing everything that could have caused you injury. I guess you think I was a terrible mother”

Oooouuucchhhh!

Now I will never share too much without sharing too little, but my Mommy Gah still has affects on my soul more than anyone ever, and I suspect her strategy may not be too far from what my Nonnie use to say to me when I was ten,

“SHELLSTEINAVINSKY, you have to think about things much harder than most. Yessssss, you have been given the gift of gab and I have taught you a lot of things about idiots and people but knowing when to hush might be the difference between success and failure for you in your life. Now go put on some music and let’s talk about why THE HELL I go to the trouble of making these perfectly cooked tacos only for you to break the shells every time I put them in front of you!”, my Nonnie always laughed, sipped and said as she’d take such genuine care to make my toasted taco shell dinner warm and fun, carefully filling them without breaking her shells, only for me to squeeze ketchup all over them and take my hand and fork to bust my shells into a million pieces, while she walked away cussing, laughing and smoking to Evergreen.

Especially since my Nonnie, my Aunt Patti and  my Ma-Maw have left us for greener, more heavenly pastures in my MilkyWay sky, I cannot stop imagining how it’s going to feel when I have to say goodbye to my parents. What will come of me when I have to face telling them I love you for the last time, is a daily fear-thought I cannot seem to put away anymore? Will they understand how much I love them and how many affects they have had on my life so far and how the effects of their love shown have carried me through my young person school days to my adult days of business, beers and financial shuffle board?

For the record, my sister Alice’s exclamation point has turned into my explanation point, I will explain on this point later but for now just know, it is the love I have for my family that creates my lack of business fear of anything, because just like when holding hand grenades while sitting on closed a toilet seat, fear can be an overwhelming mountain to climb if you do not take heed of it’s existence and strategize against the overwhelming proportion of it.

Yet, for the last few years Mommy Gah has continued to educate me on the difference between lecturing and educating, and how I might improve my delivery without a load-bearing, implicating, implicit and over-abundance of exclamation point punctuation

“Michellllle, you go from caring to insulting then nobody listens because you put them on the defensive.  Learn to teach, not lecture and bully, because they don’t answer you the way you want”, has become a monthly Mommy Gah class of mine for years and yet for the life of me I cannot see how my Mommy Gah doesn’t see things my way?

Yes I know, I know, none of you face-lawners understand why I keep face-telling and posting my stories and understand the great frustration it must be for you that I never seem to end with a period but always a comma is for some of you a very frustrating thing. I on the other hand, never get tired commas,

Commas and exclamation points are like Opera singers and parrots, there is a very fine line between the two

I cannot begin to explain to you how much frustration I am having with things these days, and frankly based on the volume of drugs and alcohol being consumed, along with the countless scotch pills being given out to young and old, via the Walgreens and the CVS, I sense I might not be the only one with self imposed life-impedimenta at this time

It always made sense to me that bootleggers and whiskey-runners became Wal-greeners from Chicago, medicine alcohol being what it was in the thirties is exactly what most Denver folks must be saying about medicinal cannabis, why bother but if you make it too regulated and taxed, I’ll still buy from my unlicensed guy off the streets

Now I’m not going to get started on the hyperbolas of idiotic thoughts when it comes to the regulated growth, sell, state taxation, federal prohibition and disproportionate lunacy of  spending money to lock pot smokers up in the pokey; for now let’s just leave this assessment of fear, hypocrisy and stupid to our government

To be continued,

Open Letter to Mr. Marc Benioff

Mr. Marc Benioff

CEO

Salesforce.com

The Landmark, One Market

Suite 300

San Francisco, CA 94105

Re: Thanks For Being A Stand Up Kind of CEO

Dear Mr. Benioff,

After a long week of meetings, beers and lunches I found myself in front of my laptop last night looking through my social media pages only to find myself reading an article about you and your company, salesforce.com, and your reaction to the new economic intolerance bill coming out of Indiana

Bravo Mr. Benioff, for having the business will, the economic courage and the presence of mind to not only stand up but to also say, “you know, this is wrong. And I for one feel comfortable enough with myself, my shareholders, my employees and my clients to say so”

The political collusion of recklessness and the utilization of intolerance and ignorance being portrayed by Plastic Republicans these days is not only stagnating, it is damn near stifling for those of us who understand the fundamental basis of our republic, and the inherent awfulness of the concentration of political entitlement by a few, over the economic disenfranchisement of those who see no point in participating in citizenship to begin with; not because they aren’t interested, because their financially-strained brains keep saying to themselves,

“why do I care what anyone in power does or does not do, because how on earth should this economic intolerance bill in Indiana matter to me? I am neither gay, live in Indiana nor in business for myself; I just have to feed me and pay my light bill next week”.

Hell, I for one would love to see you visit Chattanooga, TN to see the progressive internment of young folks all around town: public servant and not, black and white, gay and straight, Protestant Catholic and Jew, male and female who are doing and saying as much as they can to get folks to understand what you are saying as well.

As you well know, it is not the alchemy of thoughtlessness and lack of consideration that derives our citizen formula, but rather the brightest and best ingredients that can make or break our local, regional and national economic buffet we all are trying to eat from, while sustaining generations of us to come. And for business folks like you who care enough to speak out, all while tap dancing your way through the muck of not starving yourself, your shareholders or your employees by cutting your business public nose off via your personal philosophical knife, I applaud you for your public courage and reaction to Indiana’s new intolerance law this past week.

It is business chefs like you who have the ability to change the menu as you see fit, for after all, and last time I checked, you can spend your money anywhere you damn well please. And frankly, if Indiana doesn’t want your business, we sure as hell do down here in Chattanooga.

As I am sure you already know, but it bares repeating, there can be reverence in relevant thought via culture and citizenry, with or without a religious brand, which unites us all in the understanding of tolerance and patience over absolutism and generational tariffs; thus catapulting all of us forward into much safer waters with far less economic riptides created by the generations before us, so long as folks like you keep wielding your business marketplace telescope in the right direction.

I believe we digital business folks can stay true to the fundamental belief that all of us can make a difference, regardless of the speck of sand it appears we are throwing at the flood of intolerance currently headed our way

And I cheer folks like you who cannot simply put your head back down in your economic sands and pretend not to see the bull eating it’s own bullshit, like a cow nursing it’s own calf, only to kill his calf as it starts to walk on it’s own.

I for one feel it is our civic duty as entrepreneurs to oppose those who use religion and the affiliation of economic affliction as political shovels rather than tools, lest we forget where these kinds of sentiments bury all of us in the end

And Indiana’s “Freedom of Religious Act” should foretell and warn all people, religious or not, of the gravity of our situation, both near and far. Regardless of whether I am in Tennessee and you are in California

Religion and politics is like lightening meeting a snake. One never knows if the snake will live or die if hit by lightening, and yet the snake always seems to want to throw his rod in the air for safe-keeping. And I guess whether or not lightening strikes are good or bad depends on our perception of who is creating the lightening in the first place.

Something you and I know all to well can make some of us, who get my point, cringe with despair of the existence of the rod in the first place

It should also come as no surprise to anyone that the current abundance of in-fighting between parties and politicians is no different than our forefathers understanding of economic imprisonment by both.

You see, we can all make a difference as long as people like you keep stepping out from the shadows of the tall grass and show folks like me how it’s done.

Whitney and Martin understood this, so do you I hope.

It is business people like you who are unapologetic about taking up the arms against intolerance, not through warfare, but through the simple economic use of marketplace; hopefully forever making a huge difference in the grand scheme of things.

Franky, your actions should send a strong message encouraging these Plastic Republican politicians who prescribe the potion that government is bad for business, all while selling new government laws, via some sort of twisted version of constitutional establishment, be warned by business people like you that their intolerance and ignorance will not be tolerated by your investment dollars.

Here, here Mr. Benioff!

I applaud your brevity last week and invite you to my Urban Lawn dinner table in Chattanooga, TN, where if you come: we will feast on fine southern cuisine, wonderful California wine, and we will pray and thank the almighty that there are still folks like you who understand, like John and Twain understood, why Jesus wept…

God Speed,

Michele Peterson

“A Work In Progress Human Being and Small Business Person”

How Sunsets Work

Sunsets are the past and the future mixed up all in one

When you think one is over and the other is forgotten, then by the breath and grace of each other we are both beautiful by the glow of the sun’s hues

And many the sunsets have never lasted, yet they come back different in our next day, is the renewal of our faith and time

We love sunsets because they seem like memories of us glimmering away, and yet we know in some way the sunset is saying everything and whispering every time that we will be ok as long as we have faith in the love we have for each other

And as we bid adieu one minute and we say good morning the next, without hesitation or shortness of breath, we are filled with the hope and everlasting of our love profile made up of laughter, honesty and hope, and not an inch of bitterness

As we never forget the fleeting moment we had as one and now it is time for us to say goodbye until our next sunrise of our new day’s dawn

It is those of us who remember the sweetness of both that brings our love back to each other and the pining over the end is truly the beginning of the rest of our time together or apr art that keeps things calm

Alas, I cannot explain why, but I know everything will be fine because it is the love handed down to us which sustains each and every sunset we have; past, present or future; and our love breathes life in your butterflies wings as you fly beyond your own understanding of measure and expectation, into the newness of what will become a new sun shining brighter every day, and move both of us forward into the sunsets of our future with no more resentment of the past but yet we stand at the horizon of one sunset and the day break of our new sunrises together

Poverty:Humans Litter:Animals

Poverty is to humans what litter is to animals; it deteriorates our community’s soul alongside Mother Nature’s spirit, with no regard for class, educational level, or fairness

A community which combats both through intentional investment alongside observational financial need not only generates community profit, but more importantly, harnesses good will without the necessity of being beholden to both

-Michele Peterson, an entrepreneur

My First Abortion

I was sixteen when I participated in my first abortion. 

I have participated in as many as seven abortions over the last thirty years, either physically-directly or emotionally-indirectly. I’ve only actually been to two abortion clinics across Tennessee and Virginia; one was in Bristol, and my other was actually my first health clinic in Knoxville TN. 

You see back around nineteen eighty-six a friend of mine came to me with the news that she might be pregnant but she wasn’t sure yet, and could I help her figure out how she’d know, and what on earth was she going to do about her situation?  

You see, my friend had been date-raped (I wasn’t ever really sure if my friend had actually been date-raped or not, but my Ma-Maw always told me to leave the judging to the man upstairs), 

“just help folks Michele, feed their needs first and pray your questions away later”, so sayeth my own Mary, aka my Ma-Maw)

My friend had supposedly been date-raped by a fella I didn’t really know too well but whom she seemed to love very much, before I guess one night he decided No meant Yes, and she decided she didn’t need or want the kind of attention he was giving her that evening

Within several weeks, or a little over a month, after she realized she might be pregnant was about the same time the date-rape fella she may or may not have been “sleeping with” had pretty-well stopped coming around her as much (I imagine if a fella forces himself where he’s asked not to consume and then later apologizes to God or my friend for the indigestion he created, his stomach’s remorse might not warrant a return phone-call anytime soon, especially if you’re working off a seventeen year old brain at the time). 

I guess the boy came to the conclusion that good-times weren’t to be had anymore around my friend and the less he appeared around her, the better off he felt about himself. 

I for one have had this guilt-train in my life and I too found direct eye-contact avoidance a key maneuver to finding peace and tranquility in my soul.

Now one might think by the sounds of my story that I am pro-choice and not pro-life. I’ve just discovered in my fourty-five years that most folks like to separate things into two absolute same-size compartments, because four or six different size compartments are just too darn hard to keep up with most of the time; I guess it’s understandable with all folks have going on in their daily lives these days. 

I think some people like to call this very public greedy sophism the only way to protect the unborn precious life of the potential of a women’s womb offering legislate. 

I, in deference, like to call this societal issue a health and female safety measure. I believe a person without a drop cord or public utility might find themselves in the dark too much of the time and I still think the dark is too scary of a place to be, regardless of the color and brightness of your lightbulb. 

I guess some folks think if we just people-cordon the ignorance of well wishes and bootstraps, then the non-caring baby killers will become righteous in our world made up of magnetism, hubris and soda pop. 

But you see for me, I am Pro-Life in recognition of Pro-Choice. Not to the capacity other’s definition of their world of “life” might be, but rather the definition by my Ma-Maw’s scripture. 

Matthew 7:1-5 

“Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.

Luke 6:37

“Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven;

And if my generational measuring stick for life is accurate then how can the men elected to legislate a private issue so publicly, not at the same time go against the wishes of scripture? And how can we continue to feed the pro-birthing efforts while avoiding the visual decay over-births and intellectual shame alongside ramping poverty brings to our unmanned, unplanned and unmarketable children 

I guess if a distraught young, scared girl decides to use a coat-hanger to rid herself of the generational unplanned shame and guilt predicated on her, then she dies during the process, are we the people going to attend her funeral in black or white? Either chosen color still means she’s dead. 

Transgressions cannot be deemed just black and white but must be dealt with by all of us; via love, compassion and forgiveness in hopes the mother in us all help the young and dumb not endure suffering and guilt for the rest of their lives; if for no other reason than to give hope and light to the next gal who might be faced with this same unplanned predicament. 

I for one think of planning and abortion the same way I think about greed and war. Sometimes a person of better means and measures can find their way to Canada safely and soundly, while others have to dodge the impregnation draft via private poverty and public projects. 

I imagine today’s planned parenthood “defund” measure will only become tomorrow’s anti-everything currency

Dear Lord, when will the madness end? 

Lord hear my prayer 

Michele Peterson

“An Unplanned Kid”

http://m.dailykos.com/story/2015/07/30/1407166/-Catholic-Nun-Explains-Pro-Life-In-A-Way-That-May-Stun-The-Masses

“Treat em’ like shit, they’ll treat you like a King” Part 12 Ending

“Ms. Peterson, I’m sorry but I can’t talk to you, I’m preparing for an important meeting, therefore I need to let you go “, Barry says back to my assertion that I am “somebody” this morning,

“Barry, look, I got it, I know you’re an important guy at an important place during an important time,  but here’s the deal, so am I, so are my friends and so is my family living in my “Chinese drywalled” houses”, I say back to Barry as I pause to catch my breath,

“all I want you to understand is this isn’t a competition for me anymore. I know you think we aren’t on the same team, nor the same game, not even the same field, but here’s the funny thing Barry, we are Barry, we are; at least for now we are; you see Barry, I am both male and female; all business and all heart; liberal and conservative; coward and hero; straight and gay; Christian and atheist; poor and rich; scared and fearless; but most importantly Barry, most importantly to you and to your friend, John Bennett, I am undefined. You see Barry, my equal sign has yet to have a number behind it, I am what Euclid might refer to as a geometric non-logical axiom. And Barry heres the deal, I am not litigious”,  I say, as I take my deep breath of quicksand air, realizing my battle is within and Barry  is going to be my morning audience.

” and I am most certainly not defined be someone else’s formula?” I say out loud, what my soul has been saying since I can remember, “Are you Barry, are you defined by someone else’s formula? You see Barry,  I am not defined by the contents of my bank account but rather the contents of my vault. And today, right now, right this very moment, you must decide Barry, you must decide,  are you going to be a human being first and a business person second or are you going to continue to kid yourself into believing this conversation is me verses you, you verses me, and us verses them?”, I say as I try to catch my quicksand inhale,

“Because look Barry, I need you to tell my where the Chinese drywall your company sold me came from? Who made it for you guys? See Barry,  I’m trying to figure out how and where I’m going from here and you’re trying to figure out how the hell you get off our conversation without being rude. My biggest problem I have right now  is I need to know which part of China your drywall came from, because according to the news reports, the CPSC website and the Internet, “how bad” the drywall is and how much “stuff” it emits depends on what region of China your drywall came from, you see Barry, you don’t know me and I don’t know you, but God says, “we should Love our enemies”, and I’m telling you I MUST know where your Chinese drywall came from, so I can determine whether I put in the really bad drywall or just the “somewhat” bad drywall. Because Barry, The Hegwoods, they are my friends,  they bought the two thousand square foot four squares I remodeled over two years ago, they have a two year old son and he’s about the most precious little boy you’ve ever seen. You see Barry, I can’t go back down there this morning looking those parents in the eyes without knowing where your company’s drywall came from Barry, my call this morning isn’t about money, the money conversation can take place later, I can see where you guys are in Federal court fighting your insurance company over the “single occurrence” statute of your liabilities insurance policy, but here’s the deal Barry, my call is to “you” this morning, not to the money guy, not to the guy protecting the money guy, my call is about the human lives I’ve touched and befriended, it’s about the trust folks have in me to have their backs. Just like the gospel of Matthew says,

“But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today exists, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, won’t he much more clothe you, ye’ of little faith?”

You see Barry, don’t you see,  its not about obscurity now but rather the ambiguity of your soul. It’s about the faith I have in you to understand that I MUST know where in China your drywall came from, because you see Barry, you see; my friends and my family are on the internet right now; seeing what I’ve seen, feeling what I felt and the only solution I can come up with to fight the unknown, is to fight for the intrinsic value of “it will all be ok” and “everything has a solution”,  as long as we don’t turn on each other for the sake of security. I can fight for the “maybe its not as bad as it appears” part of my conversation. I can fight for the “lets not panic even though none of us have any money” conversation nor any insurance companies that will help, but Barry I must know all the facts about your Chinese drywall before I can leave this conversation. You see Barry, you can put our minds at ease, I know you guys do a lot of business in China, so I know Dr. Bennett must have visited the plants you bought the stuff from, I know you must have seen the factories and the folks running those factories,  because look I know “shit happens”, but do you see what I’m talking about, do you see what’s happening to you, you’re remembering who you are and where you came from, you’re remembering it’s not us verses them, its not me verses you, it’s just us, its just you, me and baby makes three, sittin in a tree, k-i-s-s-I-n-g. I don’t care about the money right now, I only care about my neighbors, my friends, my family and all that goes along with that, I promise you Barry, you’re not talking to a normal business person right now, I promise nothing you say will endanger your clients money right now.  You see, its not about the money for me. It’s about the knowledge that I didn’t hurt someone”, I plead my case of souls as I walk in my kitchen sipping my morning coffee mixed with earl gray tea.

“Ms. Peterson, I know you’re upset, trust me, it is all very upsetting but I only have one question and then I must go, if this “thing”, as you like to call it, is not about the money, then what in gods name were you doing on Ebay to begin with?”, Barry says back to my “I am you, you are me” morning rant.

“I don’t know Barry, I guess I was looking for a deal, it’s what we’ve been taught to do in America; isn’t it? But you don’t understand Barry, my friend Bob,” I pause for a second to catch my quicksand breath and to exhale my fear of hopelessness, “my friend Bob committed suicide just two months after moving in my Highland Park bungalow during the summer of 2009…..”

“Treat em’ like shit, they’ll treat you like a King” Part 11 Continued

“Buddy?”, JR asks me, as we leave Meggo’s house to head over to my cottage at the Fairyland club,

“Yes buddy, what’s up?”, I say back to him, as I turn down my radio,

“Why’d you lie about Meg’s dog buddy and when are you gonna tell me about what you found out about the Illumanati?”, JR says back to me with earnest in his voice and a little bit of intellectual shyness,

Now about this time in my day, it’s time to have lunch, so I decide to take my buddies to our favorite Mexican restaurant; where the salsa is spicy, the cheese dip is thin and the guacamole is to die for. Now I don’t mind saying, even though I don’t speak a word of Spanish, I always “try” to speak hillbilly-spanish, but most importantly, I have the confidence in myself to know how to ask, “Como se dice?”, which means, how does one say?

So today we turn left instead of right off east and west drive onto Fleetwood Drive where my buddies and me head down my mountaintop, past my two public lookout driveway waterfalls, one stinky and one glorious.

“Look JR and Roscoe, I didn’t know how to get across to you guys what all this Illuminati marketing business has to do with, and how it relates back to your lives without explaining it through a halfway ordered up fable, which is a moral story told by using animals or fictitious animals, so I could make my point to you fellas”, I say back to my buddies as I turn onto my seventh grade Ochs extension classroom,

“And what’s your point buddy?, JR asks me,

“My point? You tell me what you think my point was and why I told you the “story” about the harmless Lucille Racists dog”, I say back with the confidence of my appalachian intellect,

“I don’t know buddy, maybe you were trying to trick us into thinking that the dog was bad but she was really good and not to always believe what folks are saying, showing or telling us?”, JR says as I turn my f-150 onto Ochs Highway,

“That’s right and look here’s the deal buddies. Machiavelli was an author, a poet and a philosopher. He lived during a time when gangs, greed and political corruptions were rampant, not unlike what we are living through today. He was a “dude”, somewhat like you fellas, where he couldn’t make out who was good, who was bad and how you know the difference? He tried to figure “it” out by getting down to the root of human nature, figuring out the soul of a human being who is poor and underprivileged verses the soul of a King. He tried to figure out what role power and money plays in a fella’s life, maybe like you guys are trying to figure out what role money and sex can play in your lives right now?”, I stop for a second to grab a swig of my water bottle,

“So what you’re saying buddy is Machiavelli wasn’t a prince? He was just a regular guy like me buddy?”, JR says as though he’s starting to get it,

“Yes buddy, that’s what I’m saying, he was just trying to figure out what’s what. And ultimately what this Machiavelli philosopher ended up writing was a story about a prince; a prince who became corrupted by the same pride and virtue that made him king. A prince who once he became king, couldn’t help but treat his subjects like shit even though in his heart he didn’t really want to treat folks that way. But because the prince was afraid of his people, even the ones closest to him, the ones he wanted to like him the most, not because he was king, not because he had lots of money and power, but because he was a good guy despite all the bad things he did wrong”, I take a deep breath and continue explaining,

“But you see fellas, what Machiavelli’s Prince was really afraid of was his own fear of loss and he was afraid of his own sense of internal self worth, the kind of self worth you can’t buy at Tiffany’s, Louis Vuitton or Hollister. You see fellas, his fear came from his internal sense of failure. Failure of his soul to control his impulses, desires and his loss of faith to carry him through it. And just as soon as he thought he got past all those inadequacies, his friends and subjects wanted more from him than he could ever give them. And Machiavelli’s Prince became a very Machiavellian King. A King that got so scared of loss; loss of lust, loss of things, loss of life, loss of family, loss of power over his people that he decided to exploit his buddies and everything that comes along with exploitation; fear, greed, envy, beauty, sex, gluttony, music and drugs”, I pause and continue,

“But then the King became paranoid; paranoid about what his subjects might do to him if they found out he was really full of shit but more importantly, the King was afraid of everyone as a whole. So he started treating folks like shit, even his own gang members, so they’d all respect him, because really buddies he never respected or came to love himself. And he decided to do like his Daddy and he’d kill folks on the first day of being King so his gang would know  not to mess with him. And the King knew forever more, everyone of his followers and gangsters would say, well at least he’s not as bad as he use to be!!”, I start down my mountain parkway,

“But here’s the thing about power; as the prince became a King he wanted more power. He found his soul becoming less and less fulfilled with the power he had, and more and more envious of the power he didn’t have. And his desire for more power became overwhelming and restless for more power to “help” people, more power to “help” his friends from themselves, and guess what fellas, that’s when Machiavelli’s prince became soulless and did god-awful things to the folks around him, even his closest friends. He did it all so that most folks in his kingdom would know how bad of a guy he was, so they wouldn’t try to steal from him, try to cheat him, try to sleep with his girlfriends but most importantly, so his friends wouldn’t try to dethrone him. See fellas, here’s the funny thing about the concentration of power, money and paranoia, the prince never started out being like this. In the prince’s mind it was just the way you had to be in order to become King but more important, how he had to be in order to stay King. It was the way his dad was, its the way his friends responded as the prince became King, it’s the way his “buddies” cheered him on, as though there’d be no consequence to their necks someday soon”, I pause and collect my thoughts,

“Look buddies, see what’s happening to you fellas? You’re being sold something when you turn on your radio, when you download a song, when you go to the mall, when you go on Google, when you watch a reality show, when you watch BET, when you watch a movie, when you watch pornography. You’re being sold something through fear, envy and lust; and the media is saying look what I have and what you niggers don’t have! And without even knowing your TV, IPod and radio is really saying…which is come and buy our shit!! Whether it’s real or fake stuff, come buy it cause it’ll make you feel better about yourself inside!”,

I take a deep sigh and continue,

“Can’t you see it fellas, you’re being marketed to through an affiliated relationship based on history and emotion, as if racism and classism is any better dished out over black rice on white dishes. Remember fellas, there were black slave owners too!! The thing is human beings are human and usually not defined by anything more than we all make mistakes and unless you’re very lucky, we spend a majority of our lives trying to make up for our very human shortcomings. But listen fellas there were still human beings who would do just about anything to another human being for the sake of security and power. As through hate and emotional disenchantment through circustry, through nostalgia, through love, through narcism, through self-loathing, through ego but most importantly through PRIDE is OK! Because listen fellas, on the other end of your video line is someone saying, I’m poor like you so you can trust me! You see, all these seven deadly sins are cast about you everyday as though it’s OK, cause what else is your life worth? These marketing folks pretty much are saying your mama didn’t love you enough and you sure as fuck don’t know who your daddy is, so what difference does it make if you screw bitches and treat yourself like shit, it’s all about you anyways, RIGHT!! But you see fellas, at some point you have to make peace with this feeling and know it’s gonna be OK. You’re gonna be OK! As long as you find the courage to understand your folks problems and their generational cures aren’t your problems and cures. As long as you see this truth and try to live it! Because guess what, you might not know it now, but what and how you get to know this truth, determines the scabs you’ll be peeling for the rest of your lives. And those civil rights folks of yester-years, well they don’t know how to say we love you enough anymore, because greed, fear and security has been beating them for a while now. And what’s funny to me is most folks feel this way, regardless of the pigmentation of their skin. But guess what fellas!! Guess what buddies!! You matter to me fellas, and that’s why I’m trying so hard to get you to listen to me,” I take a second and look around me before I continue,

“Look guys this conversation  is complicated but you know how we listen to Tupac and how you fellas know Tupac is my favorite rapper? You know how I’m always saying; whether rhyme or crime, I’m gonna get mine. You know how I can listen to some Tupac songs but other songs are too violent and too raunchy but I still refuse to stop listening to some of his songs, because I think some of his songs have a redeeming message and are interesting”, I say back to my buddies as I turn onto broad street, at the end of my mountain highway,

“Yes buddy, we know you like Tupac”, JR says in his nineteen year old, best eye-roll but still curious way,

“Well, you see fellas, Tupac was smart and I’m not just talking street smart. Tupac understood human nature, he understood how power corrupts, he read Machiavelli in prison, that’s when all this Illumati business came into play in the rap community. And Tupac’s folks were black panthers, so his folks must have been very tribal but they were poor and didn’t know who to trust in their neighborhood. See, here’s the funny thing about Tupac, even after he read Machiavelli’s, “The Prince”, he still wanted to be The Prince!”, I take a long and hard pause to let the fellas digest my intent,

“You see fellas, Tupac still wanted to be powerful even though he knew it’d corrupt him and eat him alive. Even if for no other reason than to prove to his Dad he wasn’t a pussy and to prove to his Mama that he could take care of her, whether Daddy was around or not. You see fellas, Tupac was both good and bad, he was both innocent and horrible, he was both humble and hubris, he was both ignorant and genius but most of all buddies he still had the desire to be righteous, even though he wasn’t.  That’s why most folks like me can’t stop listening to him.  He knew how to speak to folks in a certain vernacular that gave him street cred. But he also knew he had to speak raunchy and nasty to sell more albums because most human beings are the devil incarnate. And I bet you anything fellas, ANYTHING!! that Tupac said and did all these raps because he was tired of folks making fun of him, he was tired of folks laughing at him, he was tired of watching the Evan’s show and wantin’ to be like the Jeffersons, but he didn’t have a clue how to open a dry-cleaners! He was tired of folks exploiting him, he was tired of folks poking on him! But most of all, he loved his mother so much that’d he do just about anything to protect her, including, but not exclusively, selling his soul to the devil if he had to”, I take a deep breath and continue my mid-afternoon sermon,

“You see fellas, you’re being sold; sold on the black verses the whites, the nigger verses the crackers, the Jesus freak verses the Christians, the citizen verses the activists, the crook verses the thieves, the brand verses the branded, the ranch verses the plantations, the seller verses the buyers, the chinaman verses the Chinese, the fear verses the haters, the intellectual verses the smart folks, the Individual verses the Corporations and the Banks verses everyone.”, I take another deep breath not knowing if lunch has already passed me bye.

“Now other reasons Tupac maybe went astray; he might have wanted credibility as an artist, as a poet, as a philosopher and he just wasn’t getting affirmation from inside himself or from the people he surrounded himself with.  You see fellas, Tupac grew up during a time where blacks, Jews and a whole lotta other folks were still trying to make their fortunes. A time where buying-in, selling-out and government-lies were told because it’s just what folks did back then and frankly still do now, it’s just more “legal” is all. You see fellas, it’s complicated; and although the rappers of your youth don’t wanna sell out, they have to, in order to make that Jack. Cause nobody but you fellas are buying this bullshit anymore. You see fellas, all the rich white kids, well they’re going back to vinyl, back to good ole mountain music, because it just sounds right to them. But really it’s a way for them to take ownership again.  Because here’s the deal fellas; selling you young dudes on fear and don’t be pussies is easy cause y’all don’t know whether you’re coming or pushing, what’s up or what’s down, who ‘s playing and who’s dealing, who’s your friend and who’s your enemy, who’s teaching and who’s lecturing, who’s good and who’s bad, who’s the prostitute and who’s the whore, who’s the president and who’s the chief, who’s your mama and who’s your daddy and how can you tell the difference anymore. And unfortunately for you and frankly for me;  homophobia, poverty, racism, classism, narcism and elitism are all mixed in with this cabalistic state of sideways marketing exploitation we’re living in these days”, I stop and decide to take another figure out pattern through my neighborhood, except this time I’m in Alton Park and not Lookout Mountain,

“You see fellas, most folks, black and white folks believe poor black folks live here because they wanna live here. I can’t say why, I can only say maybe it relates back to what you’re saying JR, about how the government is trying to control niggers like you through faggots and dykes like me. But you see what’s funny to me dude. Some white folks I know, well they think the same thing you’re thinking, but they think it’s the nigger-government’s system of entitlement’s fault, without ever even considering the fact that most corporations bought our government a long time ago and have convinced some folks that for the sake of their “security” we all better just shut the fuck up if we know what’s good for us! Seems somewhat like a divine right of unmediated division if you ask me. It’s the government that’s to blame for folks lack of success, their divorce, their bankruptcy, their foreclosures, their bastards and their emotional weaknesses but here take a pill, drink a potion, watch a feel good movie and you’ll feel better about yourself.  And see buddy, you see how you’re buying it hook, line and sinker when you talk that Illumati bullshit. You see JR? You’re thinking its the government and the homosexual that’s caused you to drop out of high school, get your girlfriend pregnant, make you homeless, keep you under-employed, and guess what!! You’re looking for any excuse at all besides yourself!” I take a gasp for h2o and continue,

“You see buddies, you think it’s the government who’s trying to bait you into their system of dimensional “I’m stuck” mindset. You can’t see it buddies? You can’t see its this Illuminati bullshit that’s selling you fellas on the power of how not to succeed and it’s using the oldest excuse since the beginning of time!  Which is, drumroll please”, I pause for just a second and yell,

“ITS SOMEONE ELSE’S FAULT!!! But here’s where we are buddies; just you, me and my cracker-ass Lucille-Racists-Classist-dog story of how not to succeed. And I’m telling you that you can succeed! Im telling you fellas that no matter how fucked up the folks around you may be, no matter how much you think no one wants to see you succeed; you fellas have it in you to succeed as long as you dare to care for yourselves, for the people around you, for community and for the knowledge and understanding that there are no victims on Team Buddy!! And look if you fellas wanna choose fiction over facts, then I got nothing for you! Because I’m living proof that through hard work, ingenuity, belief in yourself and a little bit of spit, piss and vinegar you can succeed on this ranch called the U.S.A., and another thing”, I gasp for my mid-sentence breath,

“And another thing, I’m not sure which rapper, white politician or newspaper pimp thought only black folks had the copyright on the word Nigger. I can tell you fellas right now women are the niggers of the world, always have been and I guess always will be. BUT I can also tell you fellas!! I’M NOONE’S NIGGER!!! I’d never let anyone call me that word! No way!! No how!! Cause you know why fellas? You know why? Cause deep down inside that word means HATE! Not hate of others but hate of one’s self! And I don’t give a flying fuck what some rapper says now! That word will always stand for hate; I hate myself therefore I hate others! And just so we’re clear, the only true niggers these days are the Chinese, because that government exploits more poor people than any other institutionally sick pseudo-capitalistic state I’ve ever seen! And here’s the funny thing fellas, no one I know even gives a shit, because they think it’s about the Chinese people and not about the greed being sold in America! Are you listening fellas cause I’m coaching!  Are you listening? Are you understanding what I’m laying down? Because, you see fellas, this whole Illumanati business, it’s all smoke and mirrors. It’s all, treat em like shit and they’ll treat you like a King. It’s all Machiavellian, and not Machiavelli, whose name has become synonymous with corruption and power which begets violence, greed and cynicism. Yet Machiavelli tried to give decent folks like you and me the roadmap on how not to fall prey to these personalty traits and soulless characteristics.  You see buddies, just because some neighborhood GANG-FOOL or rapper calls y’all Niggers doesn’t mean you should trust them! Just because they look like you and tell you they are good at gettin bitches and getting high, doesn’t mean they give a crap about you! Give me a fucking break!  They might appear as though they have your best interest at heart or are wearing some brand you think will make you look richer, therefore you’re cooler than the next guy if you hang out with us….bullshit!  And just because they tell you that your family doesn’t give a fuck about you, so come over here and I’ll get you all the pussy you want!! Doesn’t mean they’re not exploiting you any worse than the government or homosexual guy. You see fellas, I lied to you about the dog so you’d understand not all things are as they seem or are told in good measure; not all things are done genuinely in your favor, even though it feels emotionally genuine in deed. Look buddies, all I was trying to show you is, you’ve got to think about things more when you hear them than when you see them; don’t take fear, greed, lust and envy for face value! You’ve got to remember what I’m always saying about how skepticism feeds the mind and cynicism rots the soul. Think about why you feel the way you do when you put on someone else’s brand. You’ve got to try to figure out what the plantation’s objective is and why the gang leader’s friend who looks like you is telling you a story or singing you a song. You’ve got to try to figure out what the brand’s trying to sell you on and what it’s doing to your soul and why you feel powerless in your life. You see fellas, you trust me because I feed you everyday, I work with you everyday, I help you earn a dollar everyday and I treat you like human beings and not like thugs. You see fellas it’s hard for most folks out there to understand why things are the way they are and most folk’s answer to this question is by saying, “it just is what it is”! Or better yet, some folk’s answer is, “it’s not my fault”, or better yet, “some folks are just meant to be streetwalkers and dishwashers”, I gasp, as my generational tear rolls down my cheek and I grab my next piece of air as my buddy Roscoe taps me on my shoulder and asks,

“Buddy can we go on in and get a Taco?”, as I realize I’m parked in front of my favorite Mexican restaurant, next to my favorite block between my lawn on Broad and Main Street.

“Treat em’ like shit, they’ll treat you like a King” Continued Part 10

“Ms. Peterson, I’m sorry but I can’t talk to you, I’m preparing for an important meeting, therefore I have to let you go “, Barry says back to my assertion that I am “somebody”,

“Barry, look,  I got it, I know you’re an important guy at an important place during an important time,  but here’s the deal, so am I, so are my friends and so are my family who own and live in my “Chinese drywalled” houses”, I say back to Barry as I pause to catch my breath,

“and all I want you to understand is this isn’t a competition for me anymore, I know you think we aren’t on the same team, nor the same game, nor even the same field, but here’s the funny thing Barry, we are Barry, we are, at least for now we are. You see Barry, I am both male and female; I am both all business and all heart; I am both liberal and conservative; I am both coward and hero; I am both straight and gay; I am both Christian and atheist; I am both poor and rich; I am both scared and fearless; but most importantly Barry, most importantly to you and to your client and your friend, John Bennett, I am undefined. You see Barry, my equal sign has yet to be defined, even to me, I am what Euclid might refer to as a geometric non-axiom. And I am not litigious”,  I say, as I take my deep breath of quicksand air and realize my battle is within and Barry is just going to be my morning audience.

” I am most certainly not defined by someone else’s lab? Are you Barry, are you defined by someone else’s label?”, I say out loud what my soul has said inside since I can remember.

“You see Barry,  I am not defined by the contents of my bank accounts, but rather the contents of my vault. And today, right now, right this very moment, you must decide Barry, you must decide,  “Are you going to be a human being first and a business person second or are you going to continue to kid yourself into believing this conversation is me verses you, you verses me, and not us verses them?”, I say as I again try to catch my quicksand breath,

“Because look Barry, I need you to tell my where the Chinese drywall your company sold me came from? Who made it for you guys? See Barry,  I’m trying to figure out how and where I’m going from here and you’re trying to figure out how the hell you get off our conversation without being rude. So listen, my biggest problem I have right now is I need to know which part of China your drywall came from, because according to the news reports, the CPSC website and the Internet, “how bad” the drywall is and how much “stuff” it off-gases in the air depends on what region of China your drywall came from! You see Barry, you don’t know me and I don’t know you, but God says, “we should Love our enemies”, and I’m telling you I MUST know where your Chinese drywall came from in order to determine whether I put in the really bad drywall or just the somewhat bad drywall. Because Barry look, The Hegwoods are my friends,  they bought the small four squares I remodeled over two years ago and they have a two year old son, and he’s about the most precious little boy you’ve ever seen. And see Barry I can’t go back down there this morning and look those parents in the eyes without knowing where your company’s drywall came from, you see Barry, you see, my call isn’t about money, the money conversation can take place later. I can get with Dr. Bennett about the money conversation later, I see where you guys are in Federal court fighting with your insurance company over the “single occurrence” statute of your liabilities insurance policy, but here’s the deal Barry, my call is to “you” this morning, and it’s not about the money, it’s about the human lives I’ve touched and befriended and it’s about the trust my folks have in me. Just like the gospel of Matthew says,

“But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today exists, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven,

won’t he much more clothe you, ye’ of little faith?”,

I take a gasp of air, knowing I’m not getting anywhere but I can’t seem to stop climbing,

“You see Barry, don’t you see,  its not about obscurity right now but rather the ambiguity of your soul. It’s about the faith that I have in you to understand that I MUST know where in China your drywall came from, because you see Barry, you see; my friends and my family are on the internet right now seeing what I’ve seen, feeling what I felt and the only solution I can come up with is to fight for the unknown, for the intrinsic value of “it will all be ok” as long as we do not turn on each other for the sake of security. I can fight for the “maybe its not as bad as it appears” part of my conversation. I can fight for the “lets not panic even though none of us have any money, nor any insurances that will help us fix these houses I built”,  but Barry I must know all the facts about your Chinese drywall before I can leave this conversation. You see Barry, you can put our minds at ease, I know you guys do a lot of business in China, so I know Dr. Bennett must have visited the plants you bought the stuff from, I know you must have seen the factories and the folks in those factories making the drywall,  because look I know “shit happens”, but do you see Barry, do you see what I’m talking to you about, do you see what’s happening to you, you’re remembering who you are and where you came from, you’re remembering it’s not us verses them, its not me verses you, it’s just us; its just you, me and baby makes three, sittin in a tree, k-i-s-s-I-n-g. I don’t care about the money right now, I care about my neighbors, my friends, my family and all that goes along with that! I promise you Barry, you’re not talking to a normal business person right now, I promise nothing you say will endanger your clients money right now.  You see, its not about the money.” I say as I walk in my kitchen to grab a cup of coffee and air,

“Ms. Peterson, I know you’re upset, trust me it is all very upsetting but I have only one question and then I must go, if this “thing” as you like to call it, is not about the money, then what in gods name were you doing on Ebay to begin with?”, Barry says back to my I am you-you are me morning rant.

“I don’t know Barry, I guess I was looking for a deal that day”…….

“Treat em’ like shit, they’ll treat you like a King” Part 9 Continued

“Buddy look, you’re doing that the wrong way, here let me show you”, I grab the clippers out of JR’s left hand and snip the hydrangea bush planted in the side yard at Meggo’s house on Lookout Mountain, TN.

“Buddy why’d you snip it at an angle and how’d you know where to snip it at?”, Jr says back to my ponytail head as Im leaning down grunting and huffing, trying to keep my balance in my flower garden,

Yard work is for young people, skinny people or short people. Ooh and by the way, so is baseboard cleaning,

“I snipped it between the “a” and the “t” “, I say back to JR in my best mommy gah-know it all voice.

“Huh? Where’s that buddy?” Jr says back to my smart-ass (literally, my ass is halfway up in the air and I think I might faint) answer,

“God Ole’ Mighty dude!! It’s an expression, it means don’t use a preposition at the end of a sentence! Just say, “buddy where do you snip it?”, I say back as I lift up from my hydrangea bush like I just gave birth to a mini-hydrangea while down there,

“Buddy, I don’t understand what you’re talking about?”, he says back most sincerely,

“Listen buddy, I don’t either, I’ve never understood what any of this correct grammar bullshit means, I don’t have a clue about why things are the way they are, I just memorized and cheated my way through my English classes.  I’m a math person, not an English person. All I know is if you use “at” or any other fucking preposition at the end of a sentence then smart people, even smart black people, will think you’re a dumbass, low-rent, uneducated black guy from the hood!! Who doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the wall and who at some point might rob them of their stuff. And another thing!!! If I say a word you don’t understand, then stop me because sometimes I pontificate a little and I forget what I’m talking about or what I’m selling”, I say back to JR as I watch my other buddy, Roscoe, drop his water hose ten feet from us and take off running towards us as though a tiger just got let out of a cage and we’re the only people who can stop it and there’s no food around except us.

“WHAT THE HELLLL!!!!” I yell as Roscoe pivots his way past my hydrangea bush,

“DAWG BUDDY!!!” Roscoe says as he runs up the stone wall next to me, next to the tree, next to my truck, next to Meggo’s car.

But before I can get an answer out to Roscoe’s fifty yard hydrangea dash, JR drops the hydrangea shearing tool within an inch of my big alpha toe, leaps his way onto the stone wall next to Meggo’s car, next to the tree, next to me, next to end of my driveway and joins Roscoe on top of my brand new, broken in by a four point buck head-on collision four days after I bought it in November of 2012, Ford  F-150 4 x 4.

Now I’m not exaggerating here when I say “on top” of my nine-month old truck.

My team buddy members are on top of my 2013 Ford F-150, private labeled from mexico, “Eco-boost”-22 miles per gallon “my ass”, heavy duty, 3/4 ton truck; and I’m standing in my hydrangea bed wondering what the hell just happen.

About that time I hear and turn around to see my wonderful connected person of twenty-three years, Emory graduate-double major in Art History and English, flower child turned wonderful southern smocking Irish mother of two, grandmother of one, Meggo,  walk out of her door with our granddog Lucille, “The Most Dreaded Racist-Classist” dog there ever was and ever will be on Lookout Mountain, TN, according to Roscoe’s and JR’s reaction to Meggo’s exit off her back porch steps onto the stone grassy pathway where Lucille does her business each morning and evening.

“Come on fellas, I’m not gonna let that dog hurt you, get off my brand new truck!”, I say back in my sweetest Appalachian meets a hillbilly voice as Meggo approaches her car, looks over at me to see grinning from ear to ear and reaches out to my boys,

“What are you guys doing up on Michele’s brand new truck?”, Meggo smiles as if she already knows I’m up to no good,

“It’s the DOG…Meg”, JR says suspiciously, already sensing something might be a foul.

“I’m sorry JR, what dog? You mean Lucille?”, Meggo says, as she gently strokes the back of the head of the whimpering, the cowering down, the scared as shit but wants to play ball with the fellas so bad she can taste it, the best golden retriever anyone could ever ask for, the so ball-obsessed she has to take medicine to control her anxiety over her obsession, the can’t hurt a flee Lucille dog.

“Yes Meg, Buddy said the dog is racist and doesn’t like black folks with no money in their pockets”, Roscoe says back as JR looks over at me twice, to see if Im starting to grin?

“Buddies, just like my children learned a long time ago, you’ll start to learn not everything Buddy says is actually true”, as she coaxes my buddies off my truck and throws them Lucille’s ball of Illumanati-bullshit proven to be a trilogy-game of catch.

“Treat em’ like shit, they’ll treat you like a King” Part 8 Continued

“Now Buddy tell me again where you heard about this illumanati business?” I say back to JR, as we go past where I normally turn to go towards my house but I need to keep driving so we can keep talking this morning,

“Ok buddy listen, here’s the deal, the Illumanati is this secret society of rich people and they tell us that its ok for men to wear purses and to dress like girls and to have sex with other men. See buddy, Beyonce and Jay-Z belong to the Illumanati now and Michael Jackson belonged to it too buddy, but he escaped, he’s like this Machiavelli guy who, I don’t know buddy, he was a prince and all these people tricked him and Satan got em buddy, Satan got him”, JR pleads back to me as if I’m sitting on my Ma-Maw’s evangelical bench of my past.

“Satan got who buddy?”, I say back to my young brother,

“SATAN GOT MACHIAVELLI BUDDY!! Satan got him buddy, cause he fell for the Illumanati’s tricks!”, JR urgently warns me,

“Ok buddy, now just calm down there snake charmer and finish the story about how you know about the Illumati,” I say back to JR, as I pull into the Handy-Andy store of my mountain twenties, so we can get drinks for our hot morning work,

“Look buddy, Michael Jackson was just like this Machiavelli prince, he got caught up with Satan too and he became bad, just like Machiavelli, because of power and money buddy. But Michael Jackson escaped the Illumanati, he’s the prince that escaped and the other guy didn’t”, he says as we pull out of the Handy without our gatorades, because I “forgot” my money this morning and my two buddies spent all their morning per diem on their breakfast,

“Ok, so buddies, here’s the deal. I’m gonna tell you what I’ve found out about this Machiavelli fella in a minute, cause I found out some good stuff and I think you’re on to something JR. I have to tell you JR, I mean, I mean I never knew all this stuff about Beyonce and Jay-Z before you told me all this and if you’d just told me all this Illumanati business before, welllllll, you better believe I probably wouldn’t have been playin or buyin their music as much as I have been,” I say back to them with the all-knowing sense that intellectual ignorant glitter dust of commonality will get me everywhere,

“but listen, listen fellas I need to warn you about something at Meg’s house first, before I go into this Machiavelli  business ,” I finish for now, and move on to my buddy-story of my morning

“Listen fellas, Listen! Meg’s daughter’s dog, Lucille is up from Atlanta this weekend staying with us, and listen fellas, I know this might come as a complete shock cause y’all know me and how much Meg and I care for you boys, but listen…… We got this dog from some old, rich, white codger up here on the back of the mountain and we took the dog to Meg’s daughter who lives in Atlanta, and I don’t know what this codger did to this dog before our family got a hold of Lucille, but this old white cracker man up here he must have hated black folks, god ole mighty fellas!!! I cant hardly tell you this cause its Sunday morning and I just hate talking about shit like this,” I take a pause, as I give my buddies my best rendition of crying Jim Baker, from my Ma-Maw’s PTL youth trip she took me on back in 1984, “it makes me so sad fellas its just awful and you can’t tell Meg I told you fellas this, but its awful, its awful fellas!!  But our dog, our dog Lucille is A RACIST DOG!”, I pause for a second to let them digest my fear,

“And listen fellas Im not saying it’ll come after you guys, especially you JR! Cause your lighter skinned than Roscoe. I’m just saying Roscoe is darker skinned and Lucille might see Roscoe first, and then you’ll really be up shits creek without a paddle if she sees Roscoe first, because she’ll make friends with the lighter skinned brothers, but if her fear starts first with the darker skinned fella, then Oooohhh shit, y’all better run quick!!” I say to them as I swerve to miss a fictitious cat in the road, but know I gotta get them really energized and awake this morning,

“So listen JR, if Lucille, the racist’s dog, does see Roscoe first and somehow gets loose from its chain, you gotta jump in and help Roscoe get to the truck, but it’ll be ok cause I’ll be there too and I’ll catch the dog first if he gets off his chain,  I promise I’ll run and catch him!”, I say back to them in my post-athletic, three hundred pound-plus size, confident self,

“And another thing fellas! Listen, I can’t figure out whether Meg’s daughter’s dog really is actually racists! Because, well you know, her daughter and son-in-law they’re kinda what one might call “professor types” (I illustrate my meaning as I put both my hands in the air and Roscoe grabs the wheel , allowing me to give the George Carlin four finger nod), and they live in one of the “blackest” neighborhoods in Atlanta! I can never understand why they have this ferociously mean racist dog and live there? But you know what fellas, you know what’s really weird about Lucille?”,

“what buddy, whats weird?”, Roscoe says back to me, using up his four words of the day.

You see, Roscoe’s been hangin with me and been my workin buddy going on about four months now and I swear to you, I can count how many words he’s said to me on both my eye lashes.

“what’s really weird fellas is that when the rich black folks walk by their house in Atlanta, weeeellll its really weird, but Lucille doesn’t go crazy; it’s almost like she can smell the money in the black guys pocket! It doesn’t even matter if the rich black folks are darker than coal. But I’ll be damn, when a homeless black person or a “suspicious ” black person walks by, man ooh man fellas, that damn dog gets so fired up they have to give it drugs to calm its ass down. I mean fellas can you imagine? Can’t you see that dog going crazy and these two nancy-fancy smart white people not knowing what to do!!” I stop at my middle mountain flashing light and I lean in towards my buddies, as to make my two brethren understand, and for more effect, I whisper my next words,

“it’s awful fellas but hysterical at the same time, I mean fellas look…….I’m not saying this “Lucille” dog is gonna get you right away. But what I am saying is, if I still had my hundreds still in my pocket from last night, wellllllll, I’d loan you fellas a few Benjamins and you could put my Benjamins in yourrrrr pockets and I think you’d be safe. Then maybe this CRAZY-RACISTS (I crescendo my words between soft-spoken and all-knowing temperature degrees) Lucille dog would know you guys are the “good” black guys, no matter how dark or light you are”,  I say back as I continue my figure eight pattern towards Meggo’s house, allowing time for my Lucille story to marinate inside their brains as I turn back on the song that started all this discussion in the first place, only for Roscoe to ask one more question,

“So buddy, what your sayin, what your sayin…..is the dog isn’t colorblind, he can see JR and me is black?”, my youngest, more chill little buddy, Roscoe says back shyly, but certain he was told somewhere down his school line that dogs are colorblind.

You see, Roscoe’s my youngest buddy, he’s sixteen years young and three weeks old. He’s from Florida and he’s a bit country. He’s always wantin’ to eat fish; always wantin’ to talk about Wakulla County Florida (that is, when he talks around me, Ill admit it, Ive had to eavesdrop on the fellas a time or four); always talkin’ about how its the best place in the world to live; always talkin about how he use to go crabbin and how he loves the outdoors; but more importantly, he’s my most impressionable buddy right now, cause I’m lookin in my rear view mirror and Im not sure whether JR’s mouth is half open or half closed.

“Buddy listen I’m not sayin the dog can see you and JR is black, what Im sayin is…..this Lucille dog is fuckin’ CRAZY!! And I can’t figure out what’s wrong with it! But I’m sayin that if it gets loose, the only people it ever attacks is poor-black guys like you and JR. I mean, I’ve never even seen it attack anyone before! But god ole mighty fellas, this damn dog is crazy!!! And I just wanted to warn you fellas before we get to Meg’s this morning. Look, I don’t know fellas, maybe I’m wrong! I don’t think so, but maybe it’s just an Atlanta thing. Maybe the dog just doesn’t like new people in her neighborhood. Maybe the dog only wants rich, pretty people in her neighborhood! Cause you know fellas, I hadn’t even thought about this one, but maybe rich folks are just so much happier than poor folks, and maybe Lucille can just sniff happiness. Holy fuck! That must be it fellas!!! God ole mighty, why the hell did I spend all those Benjamin’s last night!! Guys I’ll just drop y’all off and I’m gonna go down to the bank and get some Benjamin’s for your pockets, cause that’ll keep y’all safe from the racists dog!” I say back as I pull into Meg’s driveway and jump out of my truck, slamming my door as I exit, waving my hands in the air and continuing,

“let me go in here and see if Meg’s got some cash stashed away before I head down the mountain to the bank and I’ll be right back fellas! Y’all unload the truck and start weeding the beds and I’ll be back in a minute,” I say as I head up my back-porch steps and glance back for a second to catch Roscoe’s eyes, as he yells back at me,

“Buddy, where’s the dog at?”