Beat It!!

Considering we're all adults, I'm not sure why, but whenever a topic dealing with sex is brought up on this blog the comments are slim to none. But that's neither here nor there, I guess it just is what it is. With that said this is not going to be a long post about this subject. So don't worry. However, someone sent me this link to this article. The link is below, but I've actually copied the article for all to read it's short and sweet and I have one comment to make after you read it.

Article

March 11, 2009

Police: Son pleasures himself, then punches mom

DADE CITY -- It all started about 7 p.m. Tuesday, authorities said, when a mother looked outside and saw her 19-year-old son masturbating in the back yard.
The mother yelled. The son, Antwan L. Grandberry, 19, walked around to the front of the house on 13th Street in Dade City and rang the doorbell, according to a Dade City Police report. The mother answered and began cursing and yelling at Grandberry, who then punched his mother in her face, the report said.

Grandberry, who is listed as unemployed, was arrested on a domestic battery charge and is being held in the Land O'Lakes jail in lieu of $500 bail.

___________________________________________

Okay here's my final word and you can quote me on this...

"As if beating off wasn't enough you mean to tell me he had to beat up his momma too?"

SMDH!!

Not sure what's going on with people these days, but they said he was unemployed so maybe the economy to blame. Hell sounds like a plausible defense they blame it on everything else.

Well that's it for now.

--C-Recks--

I Got 5 On It

I'm gonna put myself out there a little bit on this one, but you'll feel me. I listen to a lot of talk radio. (Probably 90% of all my radio listening time is spent on the AM dial). One of my favorite people to listen to is Glenn Beck. He's a witty and quirky commentator that you can find on the Fox News Channel. So everyday I get an email from him (or his people) recapping the day's show content. I find this useful because when I'm not at home in Phoenix, I rarely get a chance to listen to him. Well the emailed newsletter from Monday March 9th had this little bit of news sprinkled in it: March to Socialism - Pole Tax. Immediately my ears perked up. Could they be talking about what I think they're talking about. So I read the article and sure enough, the state of Georgia is proposing adding an additional $5 tax to each patron in order to pay for victims of sexual abuse and human trafficking.

Now I want to stop right here for a moment. I'm am not unsympathetic to the plight of those poor individuals who have been affected by sexual abuse and human trafficking. My heart goes out to them, and I pray for the best for them and their recoveries.

Now back to this $5. Some of you may be aware, others oblivious, but Atlanta, Georgia is one of the premiere locations in America for Strip Clubs. And while I am not necessarily an expert on this issue, I have done enough research to write a dissertation. (But I guess that would make me an expert. Lol). I can tell you with some certainty that placing this additional tax on customers should be a huge windfall for the state of Georgia. But that's just it, its for the state of Georgia. Sure they say that its for the victims, but that's just what they say to get people to go along with it. Just like the taxes they impose of cigarettes. They tell you that its for all these different programs, but really, its just more money going to the state. I have watched more than my fair share of Law & Order, and only on rare occasions do the police or prosecutors offer any assistance to victims in monetary form.

Here's the other thing about the tax hike. Are the legislators in Georgia making a correlation between strip clubs and the numbers of sexual assaults in their state? If not, then why are they singling out this particular industry for this tax? I mean, it would be like taxing the buyers of water polo equipment to pay for clean water programs. Sure they have the unifying element of water, but water polo is played in a swimming pool. Most water pollution occurs in our lakes, rivers, and oceans. Same thing with this tax. Yes, strip clubs and sexual abuse have the unifying element of sex, but that's as far as it goes.

Will this stop people from going to strip clubs? Of course not. As a matter of fact, I have a wedding to go to in Atlanta in May, and I'm hoping that the bachelor party is at one of their local facilities. (Magic City preferably, as it is the Vatican City of strip clubs). And if it costs me an extra 5, fine. You pay for the experience right? I just have a huge problem with Government once again taxing those things that they consider "immoral". Sin taxes as they're known in Chicago. The way I look at it, if I pay my income taxes, why should they look for every possible way to snake even more of my money away from me. Hell, look at them now. All but four states are running budget deficits. As far as I'm concerned, Government hasn't proven to be very responsible with our money anyway. Besides, I wouldn't be surprised if some of your tax dollars were being spent by these very same politicians in some of these very same establishments.



We as a nation are headed down a slippery slope here with this whole socialism thing. Government is not the answer. (Let me repeat that for those in the back of the room), Government is NOT the answer! And if you don't believe me, 200 plus years ago, a man much smarter than I said "That government is best which governs the least, because its people discipline themselves". That man was Thomas Jefferson, the original drafter of the Declaration of Independence. Think he may have been on to something? I mean, he did get that whole "America" idea of the ground. I'm just saying. (Credit to Glenn for the "I'm just saying").


-DrizaDre-

P.S. In my research for this blog, I came across this story. It didn't really fit, but I couldn't resist saying something. People, come on, power tools are not sex toys! And if your name isn't Tim the Toolman Taylor or Bob Vila, why are you bringing buzz saws into the bedroom anyway? I know that there are some sick perversions out there, but this one is definitely one of the stranger ones. (And the clown and balloon thing). Lol

Cereal Killer

So just like any given weekend my son is here with me. I will admit that he's a very picky eater. But he does get it honest. So when breakfast time rolls around and he's given the usual choices for breakfast, you never know what exactly he will choose. Well this morning he chose to have cereal. However, my son chooses to eat his cereal dry no milk. But will take a cup of juice on the side. Don't ask me why, but like I said the boy is a picky eater. Well this morning I decided to join him in a bowl of cereal. But as I was eating I asked myself a question that I have asked before. Am I too old to be eating some damn cereal?

I mean I've never seen any age restrictions on a box of cereal. But this morning as I was eating my cereal, I sat and thought should a grown ass man really be eating Fruity Pebbles? I mean just the name of the cereal alone doesn't sound like anything a grown ass man should be associated with. I guess Fruit Loops fits this same category. LOL. Now that's not necessarily my favorite cereal, but it's what we had in the cupboard at the time. I mean I very rarely will even eat breakfast at all. But the very few times I eat cereal, I will admit that I have a very strange way of eating my cereal. I'll break down how it works.

While most do the typical pour cereal in the bowl and add milk then eat, I choose a different approach. See my main goal in eating cereal is to avoid it getting soggy. I don't know about anyone else but soggy cereal is probably one of the most disgusting things there is. I have never liked it since a kid. I can't even watch someone else eat soggy cereal. And I hated when I got told "You better finish your cereal before you get up from the table" especially after it got soggy. Why someone has not invented a way to keep a cereal from going soggy behooves me to this day. I found this supposed "invention" online called the "New Angle Cereal Bowl" that's supposed to eliminate the cereal from getting soggy. You can watch the video of the commercial for yourself, but it seems very suspect to me. My version of eating cereal does the exact same thing if you ask me.

But anyways I digress. Back to my cereal eating process.

Step 1: Add Milk to bowl.

Step 2: Bring bowl with milk and spoon and box of cereal to table.

Step 3: Pour a small amount of cereal into the milk.

Step 4: Quickly begin to eat the cereal.

Step 5: After cereal in bowl is gone repeat steps 3, 4 and 5 until the milk is all gone.

Again, I admit that it's a weird process to eat a bowl of cereal but it eliminates the chance of it getting soggy. Small amounts of cereal poured in at a time limit this from happening. I will also admit that for this reason, when I eat cereal I don't really get to enjoy it. I feel like it's a race against time. I have to devour what's in the bowl before it gets soggy. This is one of the reasons I choose to eat cereal alone. Well there is another reason, but that is probably equally as strange. For some reason I can not sit and eat cereal with another person. Don't judge me. I will attempt to explain and plead my sanity case a little further. LoL.

I can remember being younger and at breakfast time my brother would sit across from me. But for some reason listening to him eat cereal just got on my damn nerves. I mean I'm so far from being the morning person. Therefore, already waking up being irritated and hearing him slurp down a bowl of cereal made me want to toss my bowl across the table at him. Sorry Bro, but it's true. LoL. If you asked he will probably admit that he felt the exact same about me when it came to cereal eating. I guess cereal is just not a quiet enough food to eat.

Lastly, I'm curious has anyone else ever done this nasty mess here. I remember my bro and I being at my cousins house. Now it was about 4 of them at the time so imagine a house full of 6 kids ranging from ages 5-10. Well when breakfast time came just like all little kids we wanted cereal. Well just like that scene in the movie Friday, we all poured up big bowls of cereal. And of course we go to the fridge for milk and there is none. Well we were all pretty broke in those days and we were told there would be no milk for this breakfast. I can't recall the culprit, but I have a clue. But someone yelled out I'm eating mines with water and proceeded to pour up. WTF? Water? I was going to eat mines dry like my son, but that ruined my entire appetite there. LoL. In an effort to keep the not snitching streak going I won't mention any names.

Well I don't know if me occasionally enjoying a bowl or 5 of cereal constitutes juvenile behavior but if so then it is what it is. If I could enjoy breakfast in bed (which I recently had. ;-) LoL) on the daily with pancakes, eggs, and bacon then I would stray away from cereal. But until then I will surely be enjoying a bowl of cereal every now and then. Not to mention I'm not a milk drinker so eating cereal allows my minimal amount of calcium intake. LoL. In closing gotta give a shout out to a few of my favorites.

Apple Jacks, Frosted Flakes, Captain Crunch, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Trix, Fruit Loops, Honey Comb, and Golden Grahams. Oh and I found this one quite interesting. Obama O's. LoL. It's a damn shame, but someone's probably buying this mess. LoL.

--C-Recks--

"Crown"-ing Glory (Re-Post)

This blog started as a honoring of what I believed was a ghetto staple. Well thanks to some investigating, I discovered that it really is an American staple. The Crown Royal bag.

I got the idea for this blog when a friend of mine told me a story of how she was in downtown Chicago, and a fairly classy lady pulled out a Crown Royal bag (CRB) of change, and paid the meter. Through my laughter, I began to think of all the uses that I have seen of the CRB. For those of you who are not big liquor drinkers, a little background information. (I Love this part, lets take 'em to school).

Crown Royal, or Crown for short, was created in 1939 to commemorate the first visit to Canada by King George VI and his wife Queen Elizabeth. (The parents of Queen Elizabeth II, the current queen of England). It is a Canadian Whiskey, and was distributed by the Seagram's Corporation. Crown was only available in Canada until 1964, when its crown shaped bottle, and royal blue bag made its way to America.

And it is here where we begin our story.

See, growing up as a kid on the south side of Chicago, I have always been aware of Crown Royal. From previous blogs, you may believe it was due to my Grandfather, but honestly it was from a highly sensitive intellect. Either that, or all those alcohol billboards scattered across the soutside of Chicago. And the one that always stood out the most was the velvet looking CRB.
As I've gotten older, that bag began to take on a less elegant meaning. Think something more along the lines of a Scarlet Letter for alcoholics. Well folks, as usual, the Internet has shown me that I had no clue to the full extent the CRB has woven itself into the fabric of America. Literally!
The Crown Royal Quilt

An actual quilt, woven out of CRBs. When I first saw it, I said to myself not bad. However, the inevitable question set in, did the person who made it drink all that Crown? Hell Naw! Impossible. If you drink that much goddamn Crown, there's no way you even have the hand-eye coordination to thread a needle. So to those who've gone to this level of creativity, cheers to you, the Queen would be proud. Grade B+

The Crown Royal Dress

Now the sight of this one was very appealing. I thought the dress was pretty, and the Crown aspect was somewhat subtle. Could I really see someone sporting something like this? No. Much like walking around with a CRB, there is a certain stigma that would be applied to you when people see you. Grade B

The Crown Royal bikini

Now, I'm conflicted on this one. Do I really like the design, or am I just drawn to what being covered? Regardless, this would be an awesome sight at the beach. Only problem is that you can't stare too long. They lock people up, and make them register for certain lists for that kind of foolishness. So without oogling too long... Grade A- (A+ if you're a dime).

The Crown Royal suit

When I saw this one, I almost fell out of my chair. Now the gentleman in the picture is none other than Jerry Rice. Arguably the best wide receiver ever to play the position. Or to some of you, a contestant on Dancing with the stars. (Personally, I've never seen the show). Now, I have 2 schools of thought on this one. Number 1, the extravagance of the suit would actually make Bishop Magic Don Juan blush and put down his pimp cup. So it doesn't appeal to me on that level. Number 2 however, is a little more redeeming. I used to question some things about my man Jerry when he was still playing in the league. And for him to go straight from that suspect nature to Dancing with the Stars didn't help his image in my eyes. But seeing this pic. Well, how can I hate on a man that would support Crown Royal in such a way? Its a pimp drink, he's wearing a pimp suit: Jerry Rice is a pimp! (Well 2+2 is 4 right?) Grade F- if you or I try and pull this off, but A+ for Jerry. Way to man up!

The Crown Royal robber

This one was off the charts for me. A cat that robbed banks and had them putting the money in a Crown Royal bag. Now this activity is one that only a true Crown Royal drinker could undertake. Robbing banks is bad enough, but why would you do so, and limit the amount of money you get to what can be stuffed in a CRB? Grade F-

So as you can see, that which I thought was a hood staple is as American as Apple Pie. This little exercise actually made me feel better about my people. (Black People). We're clearly just reflecting the American spirit. And besides, Crown was made for Royalty, don't we all deserve a little bit of elegance in our lives. Hillary would drink to that.

--drizadre

Don't Get On The Bus

One of the best parts of having a blog is that not only do you come across interesting people, but when you encounter something that pisses you off, you have the perfect outlet to vent your frustrations. Well, that's what I'm about to do right now. Please forgive me, but I am about to go there.

There's a certain bus company, and to avoid potential legal ramifications, let's just call them Hound Dog, that I absolutely hate with a passion. I believe that you would be hard pressed to find a more unprofessional company in American history. Yes, with our recent economic turmoil, we've come across companies such as Tyco, Enron, and Adelphia, but even those companies didn't screw as many people as Hound Dog has. My earliest memory of Hound Dog has to do with the birth of my brother. When my brother was born, I was only 19 months old, but I swear that I remember my parents leaving me with my Grandmother, and I was playing with a toy bus. And that bus just happened to be a replica of a Hound Dog bus. Little did I know that Hound Dog would be a thorn in my ass the next 30 years.

My next significant memory of Hound Dog revolved around a bus trip that my mother, brother, and I took from Chicago to Los Angeles. We were moving there to be with my father. (Long story for another blog). Well, we left pretty close to Christmas. The trip was relatively uneventful, until we reached a little shit hole town called Green River, Utah. For those of you who are geographically savvy, Green River is about 100 or so west of Grand Junction, Colorado. If you're unfamiliar with Grand Junction, then you're beginning to understand just how much in BFE Green River is. But I digress. So the moral of the Green River story is that Hound Dog had us stuck there for let's call it 12 hours. That may not seem like much, but to a 9 year old, it was an eternity. I don't know what they eventually did to get us on our way, but what I do remember is that we made it to Los Angeles on Christmas day. I don't believe that was the original plan. But when it comes to Hound Dog, the only plan you should make it to have them piss you off at some point.

Over the course of the next 21 years, I've had many Hound Dog tales. There's the time that I lost my entire CD collection in Pittsburgh, the time I was on a Hound Dog bus that broke down in the middle of the expressway in Atlanta (and we sat in the middle of traffic for more than an hour with cars speeding past us on both sides), and the time that I got left in Walcott, Iowa at a truck stop while all my possessions were on a bus heading towards Chicago.

The moral of what I want to say is that in this kind of economy, its no wonder how many of these companies are losing money. Companies that treat their customers like crap deserve to be teetering on the brink of collapse. Other companies that fit that mold in my opinion are:

I've been a customer with them for 7-8 years. And to this day, I still don't know why I'm with them. Their customer "no" service is horrible. When it comes to them, I feel like I'm in a bad marriage, but for some reason I just can't leave. (Right now, it the $200 divorce cost that keeping me with them. Lol)




With my job, I spend way too much time in this place. My biggest problem with them is that there never seems to be anyone around when you need them. There prices are a little high to me as well. And I swear that if my company didn't have an account with them, and they weren't open 24 hours, I wouldn't have to have them.





Yes this is my bank. Why? Once again, I have no idea. Probably because they are one of the few banks that I have found everywhere around the country. Which makes it convenient given my constant travel. If you're not a customer, I don't recommend them. They are the bank that introduced $3 ATM fees. Their customer service is average at best.



For those of you who don't live in Chicago, count yourself blessed that you've never had to deal with these people. Jewel is a grocery store, and I hate going to the ones in the city. (Suburban Jewel's seem to be ok). When you go to this place, you might as well expect a serious attitude to be sold to you along with your milk and eggs.



Any mechanic fits this category. There aren't too many places that I dread going, but the local mechanic is definitely one of them. When you go, you already know that you're gonna get screwed. They do it with a smile on their faces which actually makes it much worse. I hope that someone will soon open up a repair shop that's not a pain to go to.



I know that its up to us to spend our money with companies that provide the best service possible. And while that's usually our goal, we sometime find ourselves caught in a bad set of circumstances. Its just then that we wish the old adage of "The customer is always right" were still the prevailing wisdom. Unfortunately, the desire of "customer service" has too fallen victim to the almighty dollar.


-DrizaDre-

Tons of Guns

"I got mines I hope you [got yourself a gun]" Nas - "Got yourself a Gun"

I'll be honest I don't listen to or really read the news. The reason being is because it's usually all bad news. So I can appreciate when ClnMike does his Good News Tuesdays. But last week I came across an article about a young 11 year old boy that killed his pregnant step mother with a gun. Well the twisted part is that apparently the gun used to kill the 8 month pregnant step mother was a youth 20-gauge shot gun that was given to the child. Just 2 weeks prior to this tragic event the boy won a turkey in a shooting competition. I just don't understand what some parents are thinking these days. This tragedy could have been prevented so easily. But now a woman and her unborn baby are dead, a young boy is facing life in prison for double homicide and a family is torn apart.

Now I know I started off with something a little depressing, but that story made me think about me and guns when I was a young boy. So on a lighter note I have a little confession. When I was younger like most young boys I had a fascination with guns. Upon saying that some may assume that I had plenty of toy guns to play with. Well actually it was the total opposite. My parents absolutely refused to buy or allow me to play with toy guns. Yep they were all off limits. Water pistol? Nope! Cap gun? Nope! Suction gun? Nope! Trust mom and dad vetoed them all.

So, as a young boy I was stuck at a crossroad. I mean how am I to play cops and robbers with no gun? What kind of cop or robber has no gun? So what was I to do? Well being the innovative young boy that I was (and still am) I didn't need an actual gun. Yes ladies and gentlemen I turned any and everything into a gun. I made guns out of legos, Lincoln Logs (that's old school for the younger readers out there. Lol), sticks, and of course my finger. Pow! Now as much as my parents tried to stop this behavior they just couldn't keep me from making more guns. As soon as they took one of my make shift guns away I would immediately grab something else, aim it at someone, and say POW! I think its just one of those things about little boys. Its somehow in their nature. Although I will admit I was an extreme case.

Likewise, my son's mother and I adopted the same philosophy to keep our son away from guns. But of course it doesn't stop him from running up on me with his finger or some other object and unloading on me. POW! Lol. Luckily for me his fascination is with cars and rarely thinks about guns or violent toys. As for me I eventually turned to sports cards and video games and my gun fascination died down some. However, when the super soaker was out I had to have one.
Again, the key word is it died down "some." I can recall at about age 12 a friend of mines and I bought these 2 toy guns. They resembled 9 millimeters. But what kept them from looking real was the fact they were painted in camouflage fatigue colors. Well in an effort to make them look realer we came up with the bright idea to spray paint the guns black. So, after spray painting the guns to the average untrained eye the gun really did look like a real 9 millimeter (similar to the toy gun to the left). Bright idea #2 came when we decided to actually carry these guns around. Yep just like they do in the movies in the waist band. Now we didn't do anything devious with these guns but we just carried them around to make us look or feel cool.

Fortunately, no one ever mistook the guns for real guns. However, there was one particular incident that I recall so vividly. Now let me first paint the picture. The year was around 1992 or 1993, the place Los Angeles, California (Technically the San Fernando Valley). So this was after the Rodney King verdict and L.A. riots. So tension between blacks and police were at an all time high. A 12 year old young black male walks out of a local mall. He has a toy gun spray painted to look realistic. A police squad car with 2 white officers in it passes by and they notice him reaching for what looks to be a gun. They immediately stop! They tell him to stop and one of the officers walks up to him and asks what he has tucked in his jeans. He pulls out a toy gun and immediately states "it's just a toy." Officer #1 replies "this thing looks real why are you carrying it?" The boy replies "for no reason its just a toy." Officer #2 states "don't you know we could have shot you thinking this gun was real?" The boy keeps quiet. Officer #1 says "we're going to give you a bag to carry this thing in."

Next, Officer #2 interjects and says "no better yet we're going to just drop you off at home. What's your name and where do you live?" The boy panics and tries to think fast. He gives his first name. They then ask him his last name. He attempts to think even faster. Well he didn't want to give his real last name, so the only thing that he could come up with quick enough was Mc Williams. "Mc Williams is your last name?" Officer #1 asks with a suspicious look on his face. He then sarcastically states "Okay then hop in the back we're gonna drop you off at home Mr. Mc Williams." On the trip the young boy realizes he can't be seen by his parents with a squad car dropping him off. So as they approach his apartment complex he tells them to stop at the building right before his. The officers let him out of the back and give him the gun in the bag. They leave him with a stern warning not to carry the gun out in public any more.

Well of course that young black boy was me. Whenever I think back to the incident I just think God was with me that day. Those cops could have shot me and would have gotten away with justifiable homicide because I decided to carry a fake gun. Then I laugh at me choosing the last name Mc Williams. There was a white girl in my class with the same last name so I guess that's all that came to mind in time. Back then I didn't realize that it was strictly an Irish last name. So the chances of a black man having that last name were the same of Rodney King still having some of the money left that he won in the civil trial. Although my brother once out drank an Irish man and called him self Dre Mc Williams, beyond that it wasn't a plausible alias. LoL.

I don't think my fascination with guns was quite the same after that incident. Pretty much non existent would describe it best. Although once my ex father in law (an ex-police officer) took me to the gun range once when I was about 21. That was the first real life gun I had ever held let alone fired. So I guess that allowed me to finally live out some childhood fantasy. Whatever the case may be a child does not have the mental capicity to handle real guns. Hell there are plenty of adults that shouldn't even be handling guns. So to purposely hand a child a real gun is a tragedy waiting to happen. Just my take on the story.

--C-Recks--