"Come On, Man" Face of the Week

This one was not submitted, by a girl who only goes by Whoa. Not bad at all. You should send your best one to rsj304@aol.com. Use the comments to add what you think someone said to prompt this "Come On, Man" Face. These crack me up, but that's just my opinion though, and who the hell am I?

The Good Wife's Guide

Back in the day there was a magazine entitled, Housekeeping Monthly. When I say back in the day, I mean baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack in the day. In their May 13th, 1955 issue they had a little list that they ran entitled, "The Good Wife's Guide". When I read it, I was reminded of how drastically the ideas of Home, Wife, Family, and Husband have changed. I'm gonna post at least one of these things per week and I want you guys; especially the women, to tell me what you honestly think.

Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner, or other places of entertainment without you. Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his very real need to be at home and relax.

Truthfully, this doesn't sound half bad. I don't think it would fly nowadays, unless it went both ways. It kinda has a hidden implication of solitude and trust: two things important to a healthy relationship. Cool idea, but good luck adapting that to the modern woman. But that's just my opinion though, and who the hell am I?

The War Prayer

The War Prayer
by Mark Twain

It was a time of great and exalting excitement. The country was up in arms, the war was on, in every breast burned the holy fire of patriotism; the drums were beating, the bands playing, the toy pistols popping, the bunched firecrackers hissing and spluttering; on every hand and far down the receding and fading spread of roofs and balconies a fluttering wilderness of flags flashed in the sun; daily the young volunteers marched down the wide avenue gay and fine in their new uniforms, the proud fathers and mothers and sisters and sweethearts cheering them with voices choked with happy emotion as they swung by; nightly the packed mass meetings listened, panting, to patriot oratory with stirred the deepest deeps of their hearts, and which they interrupted at briefest intervals with cyclones of applause, the tears running down their cheeks the while; in the churches the pastors preached devotion to flag and country, and invoked the God of Battles beseeching His aid in our good cause in outpourings of fervid eloquence which moved every listener.

It was indeed a glad and gracious time, and the half dozen rash spirits that ventured to disapprove of the war and cast a doubt upon its righteousness straightway got such a stern and angry warning that for their personal safety's sake they quickly shrank out of sight and offended no more in that way.

Sunday morning came -- next day the battalions would leave for the front; the church was filled; the volunteers were there, their young faces alight with martial dreams -- visions of the stern advance, the gathering momentum, the rushing charge, the flashing sabers, the flight of the foe, the tumult, the enveloping smoke, the fierce pursuit, the surrender!

Then home from the war, bronzed heroes, welcomed, adored, submerged in golden seas of glory! With the volunteers sat their dear ones, proud, happy, and envied by the neighbors and friends who had no sons and brothers to send forth to the field of honor, there to win for the flag, or, failing, die the noblest of noble deaths. The service proceeded; a war chapter from the Old Testament was read; the first prayer was said; it was followed by an organ burst that shook the building, and with one impulse the house rose, with glowing eyes and beating hearts, and poured out that tremendous invocation:

God the all-terrible! Thou who ordainest,
Thunder thy clarion and lightning thy sword!

Then came the "long" prayer. None could remember the like of it for passionate pleading and moving and beautiful language. The burden of its supplication was, that an ever-merciful and benignant Father of us all would watch over our noble young soldiers, and aid, comfort, and encourage them in their patriotic work; bless them, shield them in the day of battle and the hour of peril, bear them in His mighty hand, make them strong and confident, invincible in the bloody onset; help them crush the foe, grant to them and to their flag and country imperishable honor and glory --

An aged stranger entered and moved with slow and noiseless step up the main aisle, his eyes fixed upon the minister, his long body clothed in a robe that reached to his feet, his head bare, his white hair descending in a frothy cataract to his shoulders, his seamy face unnaturally pale, pale even to ghastliness. With all eyes following him and wondering, he made his silent way; without pausing, he ascended to the preacher's side and stood there waiting. With shut lids the preacher, unconscious of his presence, continued his moving prayer, and at last finished it with the words, uttered in fervent appeal, "Bless our arms, grant us the victory, O Lord and God, Father and Protector of our land and flag!"

The stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside -- which the startled minister did -- and took his place. During some moments he surveyed the spellbound audience with solemn eyes, in which burned an uncanny light; then in a deep voice he said:

"I come from the Throne -- bearing a message from Almighty God!" The words smote the house with a shock; if the stranger perceived it he gave no attention. "He has heard the prayer of His servant your shepherd, and will grant it if such be your desire after I, His messenger, shall have explained to you its import -- that is to say, its full import. For it is like unto many of the prayers of men, in that it asks for more than he who utters it is aware of -- except he pause and think. "God's servant and yours has prayed his prayer. Has he paused and taken thought? Is it one prayer? No, it is two -- one uttered, and the other not. Both have reached the ear of Him who heareth all supplications, the spoken and the unspoken. Ponder this -- keep it in mind. If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon your neighbor at the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain on your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse on some neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.

"You have heard your servant's prayer -- the uttered part of it. I am commissioned by God to put into words the other part of it -- that part which the pastor -- and also you in your hearts -- fervently prayed silently. And ignorantly and unthinkingly? God grant that it was so! You heard the words 'Grant us the victory, O Lord our God!' That is sufficient. The whole of the uttered prayer is compact into those pregnant words. Elaborations were not necessary. When you have prayed for victory you have prayed for many unmentioned results which follow victory -- must follow it, cannot help but follow it. Upon the listening spirit of God fell also the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it into words. Listen!

"Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth into battle -- be Thou near them! With them -- in spirit -- we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with their little children to wander unfriended in the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames in summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it --

For our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet!

We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.

(After a pause.) "Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak! The messenger of the Most High waits."

…

It was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there was no sense in what he said.

Nothing is as true as this piece of art is in these current times. All of those who are in support of war and believe that war has a purpose in this day and age should read this again. But that's just my opinion though, and who the hell am I?

Invisible Stop Signs

I've been having this thought and I hope that it doesn't offend. I've been trying to think of anything that can have a worse effect on a child than being sexually offended by an adult. I wasn't trying to trump it. I was just thinking, what things happen in a child's life that tests their famous resiliency. Then it occurred to me. I think, living in the constant fear of being a victim of a pedophile is worse than being a victim of a pedophile. Hear me out. Children are resilient. Amazingly resilient. They are resilient to practically any and everything that HAPPENS to them. The psychological and emotional toll that living in adamant paranoia can have on a child is too much though. You can get past something that happens, but it is impossible to move past the heavy weight of a perception when it stops your human growth, and never reveals itself. I'm not directing this to your average everyday concerned parent. Just the ones that watch the news, and To Catch A Predator, and tell their kids all about how there are evil adults waiting to attack and do terrible things to them. Those parents aren't doing their kids a favor. My daughter knows not to talk to or go with strangers. When I asked her why she shouldn't do these things, she said "Because they will take me from you and mommy." That was good enough for me. She doesn't need to know the intricate details of things that could, but odds are won't, happen to her. Innocence is becoming a rapidly vanishing resource amongst our youth and we should do our best to make sure it doesn't get depleted by our zest for awareness. Again, I believe in the resilience of children. I also believe in the mental erosion of fear. No one is immune. Not kids. Not adults. Not even Chuck Norris. Living under constant fear will turn scared children to paranoid adults. Not concerned adults, not cautious adults, but paranoid adults. A child's resiliency is confined to things that happen to them; not things that linger in their minds which may or may not be real. That's why they struggle with the Boogieman. But that's just my opinion though, and who the hell am I?

My 300th Post

Well. Well. Well. 300 posts. I would've never thought that I had 300 things to type about. Somehow I did. Unfortunately, this last 300 post have been kinda darkened with what I can only categorize as haters and perpetrators. I believe that I lost several readers from it. It was apparent one day when i got a strange e-mail from someone who wanted to comment, but "didn't want involved in all that drama". I didn't help matters because I jumped in head first instead of letting people think what they think and work it out on their own. The worst part is that I ended up finding out that it was a loyal reader that I thought was a friend who started it all up. I've since, resolved all issues with that person and intend to move on. I actually considered just deleting it, but I'm glad I chose against it. Enough of that crap! My favorite topics from these past 100 have been: Rest In Peace, The Inauguration I Would've Loved To See, Blind Hypocrisy, An Elephant Never Regrets, A Cool Moment, Renigger, and Really???. This is the part I love. Now I wanna shout out the brave souls who I appreciate so much, and who make me feel sane and insane at the same time. I wanna thank all the people who have commented and left their name or a name instead of Anonymous. These fine people are: Stella, Crystal, Kelly Jo, Jade, Adria, Aimee, Jaime, Susan, Claire, Good Ole Wifey, Jermaine, James Tubman, Mizamizamoses, My Two Cents, Jessica, CoJack, J. Lucious, Tamara, Niecy Cakes, Mary, MJ Lives Under My Bed, and Wendy Lough. Thank you all. Please keep reading. I decided to post the picture of me and my mom because I also learned this year that no one has my back more than she does. NO ONE! I plan on trying for 400. I don't know if I'll make it, but I'm sure gonna try. Haters don't bother me as much anymore. But that's just my opinion though, and who the hell am I?

What Hip Hop Needs.....

With the reappearance of Charles Hamilton, The Reemergence of Jay-Z, and the revelation of 50 Cent, I've been thinking about Rap music. i think I know what it needs right now.

Artists.

Really. Right now the music is full of Hustlers, Trap Stars, Gangsters, Entrepreneurs, and Business men. Not many artists. Too many cats concerned with the money, the formula, and the industry side of things. I don't even think people look at rappers as artists. I think they see most of them as thugs with a record deal waiting to get shot or got to jail. I think from now on I'm gonna only refer to them as Rap Artists. Well... the ones that are artistic, anyways. What kills me is when I hear a rapper or producer, or industry person say, "He can rap his ass off, but he can't write a song." or "What's the use of being so lyrical, if you can right a hit?" Could you imagine someone telling Van Gogh or Picasso, "You can paint your ass off, but you gotta give people something to look at." or telling Salvidor Dali, "I like what you're doing here, but when are you gonna start churning out masterpieces?" It's ridiculous. It's so bad that, when I criticize rappers or what rappers talk about, I get accused of being a hater. I know a 23 year old cat who, whenever he hears me talking about lyricists and lack of creativity, says "Can't you just enjoy the music?" Does that seem crazy to anyone else? Maybe it's just me. This is the way I see Hip Hop now: Imagine if the Rap Game was Track & Field. What if runners were being judged by how many meets they run in, how many endorsements they have, how hard they trained, and what their running gear looked like; INSTEAD OF HOW FAST THEY RUN!!! Then, when I criticize the runner for being slow, they say "Can't you just enjoy the race?" Maybe I'm just an old guy complaining. Maybe I'm the one losing touch. If you ask me there aren't many artists left: Nas, Mos Def, Kid Cudi, Kanye, Charles Hamilton, Drake, Andre 3000, The Roots. There are plenty more, but these guys personify the artistry and the culture. But that's just my opinion though, and who the hell am I?

Oleanna

First off, I want to apologize for neglecting the blog. It sucks I know. I was doing a David Mamet play called, "Oleanna". I went very well. Initially, I was strugglin with the part but I eventually pulled it together. I'm sure how many of you are familiar with Mamet's work or have actually performed it. It actually made me question whether or not i even wanted to act anymore. i thought age was just kickin my butt and my mind was going. My younger co-star had no problem with it. She had it memorized weeks before I did. I then realized my problem. I didn't get his style of writing. My theory of acting is like this: The actor gets a line like, "I love my dog." A good actor can take that line and make it into enough action, emotion, movement, and expression to warrant 10 pages of writing. In the case of Mamet, the actor get ten pages of dialogue and through his ability he is supposed to condense all that verbiage and dialogue into the phrase of, "I love my dog." It was a true test of my "chops". After pulling it off in an effective performance, I now feel confident saying I have them. Now that I am freed up on time and my stress level is considerably lowered, I'll be back to posting regularly. If any of you have read the show, Oleanna, I think you owe yourselves. For the conversation it sparks alone. It presents the idea of a Learning Hierarchy. A theory that teachers are often abusers of power and the idea of education and teaching is one of Have & Have Nots, I know & You Don't, I have the power and What I say is right & You must listen because You know nothing. It is an interesting concept. I don't believe that teachers feel this way, but I sure that this mentality exists but I've never encountered it to the extent of the character I portrayed. This show also showed me that there are several people in the world who have serious issues with teachers and school. I'm surprised by this. Do any of you have experiences that have shaped your attitudes toward school, teachers, or the education process? If so please share them. I am amazed how much of an impact that one bad teacher or one traumatic incident can have on an institution that naively put so much stock in and found so much comfort with. But that's just my opinion though, and who the hell am I?