The "N" Word

Originally Posted 20 September 2011
Before I get started let us make something clear so there is absolutely no confusion. When I refer to the “N” word I am revering to the word nigger. This word in this post does not reflect a person, people, a race, someones individuality, any place, or anything else you can dream up to associate the nigger with. Are we all crystal freaking clear? I hope so! From this point forward, the “N” word will be replaced with the word, nigger. This will be your last opportunity to turn back, from this point forward you may not like what I have to say. I will not apologize for the opinions contained below.I grew up on the southwest side of Houston Texas. I was raised in a home where people were treated like humans and not animals. I was raised to respect everyone, no matter what, respect that person. As an example, I may hate what you say or what you stand for but I will respect you all the same. I did not grow up hearing friends and family refer to others as niggers. My first recollection of hearing it was in high school. I went thru high school in the mid 80’s. Everybody attended this public high school, but everybody was not treated the same way, that had little to do with race, but more of economic status. I came from an average income family, where enough to pay bills and put food on the table and keep clothes on everyone was what we had. We were not at the top of the food chain, but not scaling on the bottom either. What’s my point? To show that I came from a background where everyone had to work in order to survive.

As I got older, graduated high school, and attended college in northern Texas, the word nigger was commonly said, no matter what your race was, you said it. This is where I got my first dose of stomach churning racism. This is where I learned that nigger was a dirty word, this is the place I learned that “ALL” black people were niggers. New to me, I thought we were all Americans. I thought slavery and racism died long ago. Wrong, dead wrong. So far from being right that you all need a shovel to ever get back. I didn’t care then what color skin my friends had. Should it have mattered? Why would it matter? I started to be treated a little different based on the fact I had friends that were not white. I used to separate myself from the racists, black and white, back then. It is still my rule of thumb now. It is what I teach my children. Your color does not matter, you are a human, period.

Moving on. While I was in college, I married my high school sweetheart. At our wedding, I found out that her dad is probably the most racist person I had ever met. When he found out “that we were having niggers attend the wedding” that he would not be attending. Really? Who will walk your daughter down the aisle? I guess, looking back, it was fortunate that he did walk her down the aisle and did stay for the ceremony. Our guest list did not change, he was convinced to deal with it by his wife if they were going to continue to be married. Shorty afterwards, I joined the United States Air Force (USAF) where I was taught yet another lesson in life, there is only one color in the military and it is GREEN. I like this concept. I still saw racism, I still heard black people called niggers, white people called crackers, and Hispanics called beans and wetbacks. The name references flew all ways some of the times, in the conceited little circles of friends who wanted to fit into a group. My group was green, everyone was welcome no matter what. Unless you started spewing your racist remarks, then we were done.

After I retired, I entered back into the “real” world, the world where nothing is sacred and everything is taken advantage of. I moved back to a town in northeast Houston and I thought life was going pretty good. I listen to a pretty select set of music, 99% of which consists of all types of metal. My oldest daughter fell into the same trend, my younger daughter fell in to the hip hop and dance kind of music, and my son went country on me somewhere. I always consider my self to be pretty open minded to the coarse language found in music and you really can’t offend me in any way, shape, form, or fashion. Or so I thought.

I have always had a problem with different groups of people who feel the need to hyphenate another country with being an American. Two that are popular here are Mexican-American and African-American. People who do this are just plain stupid in my opinion, you live in America, you are an American. It is super simple and there are no ifs, ands, or buts about it. You are an American. Why they feel they need to hyphenate? The answer I get always is it preserves their heritage. Really? What a dumb excuse, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

And now, we will talk about the word nigger. It is a word. Because I am white does not mean I cannot use it. Nigger is just a word, a stupid word that should be buried somewhere deep and erased from the face of the planet. But wait. It can’t go away, because black people have it so ingrained into their own language that it wont go away. It is in their daily use of language and also in their music. See this link for an example: and tell me how great a song you think that is. That is mild, oh so mild compared to what you can find on your own, makes my stomach churn. It is not the white man calling black people niggers, it is the black people calling themselves niggers and telling the whites that they are not allowed to use the word because it offends blacks. What? At this rate, racism in the United States will never disappear, ever. Black people will not let racism fade into history. Why? We will never know.

Mt comments shotgun blasted all blacks and all whites. I do not refer to all of any group, the terms were used in general. You are who you are and think what you will think. Be grown up while not reading between the lines of what I say here today. I speak for me, for what I see, read, and hear. If any part of this offended you, good, that means you are thinking. In my world, in my house, in my family, we are Americans, period. Many of you disagree with me already, thinking to yourselves that its more complicated than what I have said, it just isn’t that simple. Really? It is simple, the word nigger, in any form it is used, for whatever it may be used for, is being racist. I don’t give a rat’s ass who uses it, it is derogatory and demeaning. Think about it the next time you say it, read it, or hear it being said. Just take the time to think before you say nigger and ask yourself………………why do I need to say it?

Giving Thoughts To Being A Quitter

A few nights ago I had a dream that I am going to have a hard time explaining. I don’t know if it was exactly about quitting my smoking habit I have had since 1985. Some of it had to do with conversations my wife and I have been having about quitting. Why thinking of quitting now? Well, my wife was recently diagnosed with a degenerative heart valve disease that I wont even try to misspell here, I can’t say it much less remember how to spell it. Anyway, part of the protocol is to quit smoking, part of it is now diet, and then of course medication. Surgery is inevitable and will be happening in a few months where they will open her up and replace 2 valves on her heart and repair what appears to be some stroke damage. Now, my wife is in her early 30’s so this all comes as a pretty big surprise and deals a crushing blow to her and and to us.So, since she is in the process of quitting, she thought it would be nice if I went ahead and quit smoking also. Really? I have never attempted to even think about quitting. Come to find out, it is a complex choice to make and I feel quite unmotivated. It was easy for my wife, she as been looking for a reason for years, now she has one with grand motivation. She has gone from a pack a day to just 2 cigarettes a day, sometimes 3. But, she has been doing it and is working on this last little bump. My family is not quiet about what they think about my quitting accomplishments, which are nil. Which makes me feel like shit, because I have pushed my wife hard to stick to her regiment on a daily basis. I was always the cook in the house, and that has not changed, I just cook differently for her now. Sadly, the rest of us have only given up a few things and she has given up everything she has ever known. I need her to succeed.So, back to this dream. I had this dream and then found the picture above by accident while looking for something else. I died in my dream. I watched my own funeral. I watched as the the Air Force funeral detail discharged a 21 gun salute. I watched my children cry, my wife cry, and my family all cry. I listened to the kind words being said by my children. Then, my casket lowered as I watched, different flowers dropped on top, and finally they filled in the hole as everyone walked away. It was never stated what killed me, I only assume it was smoking. I was allowed to watch them for the remainder of the day, and then I started walking down a path in the woods somewhere, which is where I woke up.

I haven’t talked with my wife about this dream, I don’t think I plan on talking about it with her, I think it will be my secret. I fear her dying and leaving me alone, I have never looked at it the other way around. I am sure the doctors will get her heart fixed and she will move on from all of this, for this I hope and put my faith in the doctors to do their job and do it right. My dream deeply disturbed me. Maybe it was my brains way of giving me motivation. I have never dreamed of my own death, nor my own funeral, so after processing I will have to come to some form of conclusions.

What Is The Fascination With Starbucks?

Yeah, you heard me, someone out there in the world needs to explain the fascination people have with Starbucks Coffee. I really don’t understand it, really I don’t. I watch these jitterheads cram into the little store or into the line for the drive thru, everyone so impatient and can’t wait to get their fix. I drive by 6, yes, I said 6, Starbucks on my way to work in the morning, and I am only going 9 miles to get there. These jitterheads will practically run someone off the road to get over in the proper lane to hold up traffic. I always ask myself, why they can’t get in the right lane before it is time to turn. Yet, as I pass all 6 of these places, I witness the same careless driving behavior. What’s worse is when they are leaving, now that they have their crack-in-a-cup (yeah, you heard me) they have a even harder time paying attention to traffic. Now they need to exit the place, now they need to cross 4 lanes of traffic.
Don’t they know that right up the street less than half a mile, there is one on that side of the street. They drive right past it. I have seen so many wrecks around Starbucks from people trying to get in or get out.Now, I must admit, my darling wife whom I adore and love, has a Starbucks addiction. Luckily, when we go to work, she goes the complete opposite direction. That direction she only has 3 options to stop. When we are out running around together and she says lets stop at Starbucks and get a “blah blah blah with a blah blah blah” and my mind freezes up and I stop listening because as soon as I heard Starbucks the trigger goes off to start blocking out the brainwashing. We go thru the drive thru, its fun for her to look at the entire menu and say she would like this or that but always orders the same cinnamon coffee she always gets. And then we get to the window and they rob you.

Speaking of getting robbed at Starbucks, my wife got what she thinks is the coolest thing next to Starbucks coffee, a Starbucks app for her Droid. Really? She goes on explaining….”blah blah blah yum blah”. One can use the app to make their purchase at over 6,800 different location and at over 1,000 Target store locations. Wow, I feel my brain melting just because I know this garbage. Then, I asked the ultimate question. Being it is based on a re-loadable rewards card which is re-loaded at about $100.00 a pop from our checking account and the app is not password protected, what will happen when she loses her Droid? Does someone else get to rob me then also? I am still waiting for an answer. The answer is yes. I did a little reading and thieves target patrons exiting Starbucks, stealing only their smart-phones. I think the whole thing is just insane, but who am I to judge, I don’t have a Starbucks addiction.

So. What is it? What draws people in to Starbucks and then sucks their wallet dry? Status? Addiction? The fancy cups with names I still can’t pronounce? To promote coffee envy? I have had the coffee, so I know that is not the draw. Just thought I would ask because my wife does not have a an answer I am able to wrap my head around and comprehend. I have asked the people I work with also, same distorted answers. Can’t I just accept that the answer is because its Starbucks? I refuse to accept that as reality.

Career Options I Steer My Son Away From

Living where we do in southeast Texas, roadkill is not an uncommon sight. My son has asked me more than once what happens to the roadkill on the side of the road. Well, a couple of things happen. Fresh kills attract a variety of scavengers who will risk becoming roadkill for a fresh and free meal. Then, if we are lucky, the “Roadkill Collection Technician” will scrape the remains off the side of the road for disposal. So far, he’s pretty excited about growing up and being a collector. As his father, I feel it is my duty to steer him into career choices that might get him farther along in life. Okay, lets look at an example of the position opening for a collector.
Roadkill Collection Technician (Full time position available)Are you a person who loves being outdoors? Are you a person who would like to keep the countryside more attractive? Are you a thrill-seeker who enjoys working at a very fast pace? If you answered yes to these questions, then this position could be right up your highway.As a Roadkill Collection Technician you will get to cruise the open roads of our highways looking for dead animals to dispose of. The carcasses will range in size and vary in stage of decay. On occasion it will require quite some effort to separate the carcass from the surface of the road. Smaller animals tend to disintegrate, so their is a little more effort getting all the pieces collected. A person applying for this position needs to be adept at avoiding fast, oncoming traffic.The pay is minimum wage. However, perks of the job are getting to cruise the open roads and getting to work outdoors. Job security for this portion is excellent due to the never ending suppl of dead animals on the side of the roads. As a bonus, a person in this position often finds that they lose weight do to skipping meals and regular vomiting at incident sites.

Your tasks and duties include: Driving along main highways. Locating dead animals to remove from roadways. Proper disposal of carcasses.

Your personal requirements are: Valid driver’s license. Good physical fitness, strong stomach, and the strength to be able to remove larger animals and load them into the vehicle. Excellent traffic avoiding/dodging skills and abilities.

Persons interested in applying for this job can forward their resume to: or feel free to contact us toll free at 1-555-555-RDKL

Now, I hope no-one is taking me seriously. The e-mail and phone number are both fake, made up, and do not really exists. In all seriousness now, would this seem like a job you would want to take? My son and I reviewed a few different jobs that he might not want, this ended up being the top he will probably choose not to have.

I look back at some of the different jobs I have had and hope that my kids never ever have to have a couple of them, because they were beyond sucking. We will save that for another day. Have fun. Be safe. Enjoy the work you do, because you could always be a “Roadkill Collection Technician”.

Big Fat Handful Of Fukitol Please

I have been told my whole entire life there are no “Do Overs”. It is a very true statement, especially when my Do Over button seems to be malfunctioning. Way back when, in days gone forever behind me, a friend of mine told me it was my one chance to make things right after my divorce. He pinned a Do Over pin on my chest right before my bachelor party. I had completely forgot that precious little moment, until today, someone mentioned to me that this would be the perfect day to have a Do Over button. Really, I hadn’t noticed. Yes, it has been an extremely long day and it will be 15 hours of my life I will never get back. Which is the point, I guess, that people always would say, that there are no Do Overs in life.That suits me just dandy. It is great to know I don’t have to ever repeat this day ever again as long as I live. Fantastic news that this won’t get all Groundhog Day on me and keep repeating itself. No, I have the solution, I have found my answer, I know what I really need. I need a big fat handful of Fukitol! I don’t need one or two, that will never do. Three or four? No, I really need more. I will take the whole handful of Fukitol and chew them up like Pez.

Yes, I realize there is not a magic pill or secret drink to make portions of my life go away and stay away. But, it would be really nice to be able to walk out on my porch, take a deep breath, and feel better when I am done. However, I tried walking out on the porch, but stepped on an acorn with bare feet. I took in a super deep breath of air, and then exhaled, inhale, exhale, repeat, until I realized I just smacked my very last cigarette in such a rush that I didn’t even enjoy it. Once I got back from the gas station, I tried it again, this time with my shoes on. And so, here I sit, letting my day disappear into oblivion. I think a handful of Fukitol pills would have been faster, but I suppose this will do.

I think I will take my Do Over button down to the Goodwill. Maybe someone else will find a good use for it. Might make a fine paper weight since it is never going to ever possibly work again.