When I was in 8th grade, it never ceased to amaze me how certain girls in my class felt that it was an ‘honor’ to get randomly felt-up by a male classmate, especially if he was the cute popular one. Back then, at the ages of 12/13, every one’s hormones were raging, but my mother didn’t raise a ‘fast-tail’ girl (that’s what my grandmother called them).

I remember one incident in particular and it took place during 7th period Chemistry class. Mr. Sakowitz had his typical coffee in one hand and cigarette in the other, yes my teacher smoked during class. As I made my way to my desk, I was approached by another classmate named Mustafa. Typically I tried to avoid him at all costs because he was a known culprit when it came to ass grabbing.

Now, that was back in 19_ _ and I was in 8th grade. I guess you can say that was typical pre-teen/teen behaviour. But nowadays it’s a whole different type of ball game.

Yesterday afternoon, my nephew and son were sitting at the dining room table doing their homework. My son called me in because he said he saw something disgusting happen at school during recess. He goes on to tell me that he saw a 4th grade boy put his hands down a 4th grade girl’s pants. It took everything for me not to curse out loud and say, “What the fuck!”. I asked him did he tell any of the teachers that were out there and he said he did, but they didn’t do anything. At this point, I asked my nephew if he saw the same thing, and he said yes as well.

My question is, what are parents teaching children nowadays? But more importantly, what are they not teaching their children?

Some people will blame it on the media, i.e, tv, video games, music. But parents need to be held accountable for the actions of their kids. My son shouldn’t have to come home from school and the subject of conversation shouldn’t be about the fresh-tail kids on the playground. Did I mention this was an ELEMENTARY school from K-5?

This morning I placed a phone call to the school and the Board of Education, expressing my concern about certain things that have taken place on the playground in recent weeks. I’ve also talked to the teacher who’s students were involved in the incident. Not only does it seem that Sexual Harassment training needs to take place in the workplace, but it also needs to take place in the school systems as well, because obviously some one’s parents have failed them.

First we have Wesley Snipes standing before the courts in Florida, with $5 million dollars in hand, as a good faith gesture for his delinquent tax bill.

Now, let me be the first to say, I AM NOT A FAN of Mr. Snipes and I also believe that if I have to pay taxes, so should he. Every time I see the amount of taxes taken out of my paycheck I want to cringe, but it’s one of those necessary evils that the government will not let go and never will.

I was shocked to say the least. I was more pissed than anything. I could feel my face turning red and a wave of nausea hit me. Fifty shots were being justified. Witnesses were not credible to the judge because of their own backgrounds.

I’ve never been the one to label police officers as ‘pigs’, even after my own questionable traffic stops and tickets that I eventually went to court for and had them tossed out. But after reading the verdict, the only word that I could think of was ‘pigs’.

I’ve always tried to instill in my son and nephew that police officers are there to help, but now what do I tell them? In writing this, I remember a time a few months ago the three of use were at Popeyes restaurant in Laurel, on Rt. 198 (the Anne Arundel section of Laurel). There were three uniformed officers sitting there having lunch and my son looks over to them and waves. To my astonishment, not one of the police officers offered a wave back. I looked at them and gave them one of the most evil glares I could muster and they knew the reason why. Before we left, I approached the female officer and asked her if it would have been so hard to return a wave to a kid. She looked at me as if I was crazy and then I walked away.

So this week in American History, we’ve learned that if you don’t pay your taxes, you go to jail, but, if you’re protected by the shield of blue and you shoot a man 50times you’re allowed to roam the streets freely. It definitely puts a different spin on the whole “Protect & Serve” motto.

As a sidenote, I happened to be flicking through cable channels Friday evening and came across BET’s 106 & Park. The show included a few journalists and was centered around the Sean Bell verdict. I came in on the tail end of a phone call with Mos Def, but of course at the height of his ‘call for community action’ and not for people to take this verdict lightly, his call was disconnected. Tsk, tsk on BET. I’m quite sure the call was disconnected on purpose. Also, may I offer a bigger “TSK TSK & FUCK YOU” to BET in regards to the disclaimer I noticed at the end of the show, “The views expressed on today’s show were not those of BET”, is how it went. Now, I remember why I stopped watching that channel years ago.

WWB(Walking While Black)- Mumia Abu Jamal’s reaction to the verdict:
http://www.zshare.net/audio/111246732c5d053c/

Of course, after I let it slip, the first thing he asked me was what do I write about? My only reply I could think of was, “Stuff”. He asked me what exactly did I mean by stuff, because that answer was quite vague. I told him it’s usually whatever is on my mind at the time, anything from people I may encounter, work, things I may have saw on the news or read in the newspaper. His next question was if I wrote about men.

(insert awkward silence)

Now, I could have answered this question a number of ways. Truthfully, by telling him that occasionally I may write about people I’ve come across in general, not just men. Or, I could have told him, “Of course not, I don’t divulge information about my personal life”. Well, I guess depending on the way you look at it, both of those answers are true.

As predicted, he asked if I wrote about him (he’s an egotistical man) and I told him no and that I doubt I would. He asked what was the last thing I wrote about, and I told him it was about a man’s (f?ng’k?) feet. At this point, I’m wishing he would change the subject because I could already tell where this was going.

“Well you wrote about a man’s feet, Who was this man? And you couldn’t write about me?”

(as you can tell he’s quite predictable and likes to have his ego stroked)

Truth be told, I let him know that I was actually going to write about him in regards to the fact that I think men who own cats are ’suspect’ to me. Needless to say, he didn’t like that answer or sense my use of sarcasm.

(Actually, I do find men who own cat(s) quite weird)

Once again I tried to switch the subject, but before I could, he asked the one question I hate answering when it comes to my blog and friends who don’t know about it.

“Well what’s the name of this blog of yours? I want to read it”.

S L O W your roll, buddy.

Many have asked, even more haven’t received an answer. I love the anonymity of hiding behind the moniker, (f?ng’k?) [blak] [chik], especially when it comes to not divulging it to other people that may possibly become a victim of a ‘drive by blog post’.

I didn’t tell him how to find my blog and he became somewhat offended.

“Oh, I’m not special enough?”, he asks.

“Is that a rhetorical question, especially since I haven’t known you that long?”

(insert dial tone)

Yeah, that ass hung up on me. All because I wouldn’t tell him what the name of my blog was. If he knew me well enough he’d know that I’m somewhat a private person, even down to the fact that when he asked me what my last name was, I gave him the wrong one, well not exactly wrong, but my mother’s maiden name.

So at this point, he’d be happy to know that he has now been immortalized in a blog, but I guess he’ll never find out since he decided to rudely hang up on me. That sealed the deal on him not ever hearing from me again. Boy do I hate egotistical men who need constant stroking.

Picture this scenario. You’re relaxing on the couch and enjoying a movie after an evening date with a tall, handsome recently retired NFL star. The two of you get comfortable and remove your shoes and start to stretch out on the couch. After a few minutes, you take in a deep breath and the scent of Fritos lingers across your nasal passage. You look down at your feet and realize that you’ve never had an odor problem in regards to your feet.

The only obvious explanation is that it’s the other person’s feet! Now, you think to yourself, “If I can smell this stench, I’m sure they can too!”. Where are the odor eaters when you need them?

Yes, people, his feet smelled horrible. It was like I was sitting on top of Frito mountain in the middle of Summer. Hot. (f?ng’k?). Feet. How appetizing, especially after a dinner of seafood!

I tried to squirm to the other side of the couch but of course he moved in closer and wrapped his arms around me. I tried to breath through my mouth, just so I could smell as little as possible. That did not work. I thought to myself, “Does he not smell his feet?”. I realize this is a common problem for men, but if you’re 30-something years old, your feet have been (f?ng’k?) for a while, it didn’t just happen over night!

It was hard to pay attention to the movie, because all I could think of is how am I going to approach the subject. Should I blatantly come out and tell this 6′6 man that his feet stink, maybe he should go and wash them and put his shoes outside to air out? Or, should I just sit there and grin and bear it? I knew it wouldn’t be much longer before the movie ended so I just sat there breathing through my mouth for the rest of the evening.

A few days later we spoke on the phone and it took every ounce of energy for me NOT to say something about his feet. Eventually I blurted out, “You really should throw away those shoes you wore the other night, they’re causing your feet to stink”. There was a few seconds of awkward silence and he started laughing. He told me I was the first woman to mention the fact that his feet smelled and that he appreciated it and that he’ll definitely invest in some foot powder and get rid of his problem shoes.

Who knew it would have been that easy. I wish I would have said something while we were watching the movie, because I would have actually been able to pay attention to it, instead of trying to divert myself from the (f?ng’k?) feet!

Move over Dr. School’s, Japan has minty insoles!

It’s funny how alot of people nowadays claim to be ‘color blind’. I always hear cliches thrown around about how ‘love sees no color’, ‘everyone is created equal’ and the like. Well let me be the first to admit, that no, I am not color blind. The color lines for me were clearly defined at a very young age. If we lived in a utopian society, of course those cliches or sayings would ring true, but unfortunately that is not the case.

If I was color blind, I wouldn’t notice the looks I receive by other men and women, when I’m out with my friend Jeff, who happens to be white, and we’re playfully holding hands.

So, my question is, do I need to get rid of the color I have, in order to be ‘color blind’? Because it definitely seems that the majority of the people I know who are always hollering that they’re colorblind tend to lack melanin and would never have issues like the ones I pointed out about. Ponderous indeed.

Emily King- Color Blind