Milwaukee criminals disgusted by “boxer bandit.”

I have canvassed Milwaukee crime lords, thugs and assholes in recent days who are revolted by recent news stories about the”boxer bandit”, a young black man who robs banks while having his pants hanging half off his ass. TV news stories showed pictures from bank cameras showing a young black man robbing banks. But what was different was that this guy shows up with his pants down around his knees. He’s mean, seems to have a gun and wears plaid boxers.

Your grandfather when he was a virgin might have worn plaid boxers. But in 2012, America, I said it, now deal with it. A young black bank robber wears plaid boxers. Things I ain’t never seen, much less put on my wonderful brown body. I usually wear those wonderful very comfortable so-called “tighty whities.” that’s why I decided to canvass Milwaukee criminals about this latest story. Here’s what Joe Motherfucker said. “Fuckin bullshit, I’m gonna be a banker or a congressman.Motherfucker rob a bank in his boxers. Fuckin white people always tearing down the black man.”

It was heart wrenching listening to men with such long crime histories pour out their hearts about this boxer bandit. They’re ashamed, frustrated by the amount of ridicule that thugs receive as a result of this news story. This is  America and we will soon see a young man attempting to run from the police with his pants down around his knees. It’s going to be a long year for run of mill criminals.

When will we stop  having sex with our mothers and find women who did not give birth to us? If I knew the answer, I wouldn’t be interviewing these thugs.

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Local oddball gets networked. Police investigation to follow

Last week, out of the blue, someone I used to work with called up and and started talking with me. I had not spoken with her in about two months. Not since I had hugged her and said I would miss her. This is a woman about whom I have complex feelings. When we met, a few years ago, I tried to ignore her. I would try to arrive when I knew she would be gone.

That was pretty successful for a while except for the occasional staff meeting. Unfortunately, I found that was not a permanent solution. We continued working together and I found that I had to talk with her. This led to actually getting along together despite constant interference from my other personalities.

Suddenly one day I found that I liked her. Well, wouldn’t you know, that would be the day I accidentally found out she was moving on to a better job. I gave her a copy of Bruce Springsteen‘s song “if I fall behind, wait for me” the last time I saw her. And went on with life. So, of course, as I’m minding my own business last week here this woman calls to talk about how things have been going. Having just written the blog entry about being told not to keep in touch, I mentioned that my supervisor had placed a restraining order against me. That made her worried. Was I wacko? Did I need a med change?

It wasn’t until somewhere around the 10 minute mark of our conversation that I realized she had called to find out whether I might be someone to work with again in the new opportunities being created for certified peer specialists. I ended up trying to get her to come to Madison for Empowerment Days next weekend.

I must be nuts. I don’t understand how I don’t recognize the signs of being networked. I’ve been in a tizzy the last 48 hours. Even the cat told me to chill out. She called the police as part of her wellness plan. If I get networked again in Madison I may not survive the experience. Readers, BTW, this is the point in the blog where you wonder how you could possibly be spending your youth reading about some local oddball in Milwaukee. I have to admit, I have the same problem with our relationship. Let’s try not to keep in touch. Thanks for listening.

The Oddball Couple (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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Local oddball told “don’t keep in touch!”

Nichelle Nichols Visits NASA Goddard for MLK/African American History Month Keynote Event (Photo credit: NASA Goddard Space Flight Center)

Last week I appeared in front of Judge Luther P. Johnson regarding a restraining order that my supervisor at week had requested against me. All I thought I was doing was keeping in touch, which was what she had said that she needed. I know I can be a little bit of an odd duck. That’s what makes me interesting but I guess not everyone seems things the same way that I do.

I fry catfish on Mondays and that somehow makes me a little odd. Sometimes I read books from the end to the beginning. I even write letters to Congress, all things that seem a little obscure. The other thing I do is I contact supervisors. Particularly since last year when I was told repeatedly that I needed to keep in touch with her. So I started sending her a few emails, maybe tweeting her or leaving an occasional voice mail message at 1AM. So far, so good. She would tell me how amusing these items were, although my cat thought I should cool it. “Stop while you’re ahead, Kenyatta.” She’s just so practical.

But if she was such a smart cat, she would have been buying her own food. Just because she talks to me, she thinks she’s all that. Well, as it happened, I probably should have listened to her a little more. I was soon buying electronic devices to help reach out and touch. I would wake up in the middle of the night possessed by the idea that I needed to keep in touch. I would be on a date and then suddenly I had to send out a message.

I even sought out 12 step groups for men who are constantly keeping in touch with women but nothing helped. So now I here I sit with this huge restraining order against me. All my wonderful I-pads and smartphones have been seized. I’m a man without access. The last words of Judge Johnson: “Kenyatta, don’t keep in touch.” I was stunned but I will survive.

restraining order (Photo credit: @MSG)

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Local oddball Goes International and Wild all at Once!

T-shirt for Kuma Bolo (Photo credit: Valeri-DBF)

Image via CrunchBase

One day I looked in a copy of The Onion, which is renowned for its fact based journalism and saw a picture of a guy in a tee shirt that proclaimed: local oddball.  And I thought, that could be me I’m local and quite a strange person and with that I was well on the way to becoming a local oddball. I didn’t buy the tee shirt, because I have too many clothes already.

But my next inspiration was to begin spewing forth my inspiration to tens if not dozens of people across and upon the fair city of Milwaukee. I bought a trusty computer recommended by Riley C. Cat, who you will recognize as a cartoon character in one of my earlier stories and away I was swept. I pondered for a few minutes whether there were guidelines for being an oddball. If I acted a certain way, would I be considered quirky, offbeat or or a poser? You know, one of those types who is a straight laced accountant by day but when he takes off his Lutheranism in front of the computer becomes a Superfreak. This sounds like a character from Barely Political.  But it wasn’t me.

I wanted to be recognized for who I am. Lately I have become more disturbed than ever upon having returned to my faithful computer and thrust myself upon it. When I checked the statistics of who was reading my pearls of wisdom, WordPress began telling me most of my readers were from outside the US. Yes, it’s true, dear reader.

Take yesterday, for example. I had readers from the United Kingdom, India, Haiti, Canada, Cameroon, Sweden, Singapore, Mexico and Honduras. I mean, who knew those places had Internet service? They edged out my local American readers in terms of quantification of enormity times py. And that’s really saying something because you know us Americans, we like to be number one. There were some unintended consequences of this sudden international readership.  I received an email today from the International Association of Local Oddballs, of whom I am a loyal member. Apparently some local oddball who is truly more local than me has filed a complaint questioning my credentials and asking that I be re-classified as some other type of oddball. Hmm. Well, I used to be more local is like reminding people that I used to be taller.

Dear foreign readers, I appeal to your sense of fair play in this matter. I did not intend for you to outsource your blogging. I’m certain there are more local people in Cameroon, Singapore or Mexico for you to read about. In the meantime a committee has been convened to investigate these dastardly charges against me.

Oddball barnstar green (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Tatiana in tee shirt (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

2011 in review Who knew blogging could be so much fun?

Image by MB Jarrosak via Flickr

Image by photography.andreas via Flickr

Image via Wikipedia

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 3,100 times in 2011. If it were a cable car, it would take about 52 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

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Things I Left Behnd in 2011

Image via Wikipedia

Image by The Library of Congress via Flickr

It has been 2012 for damn near an hour in the Central Time zone and I thought I should take about my new series: things I left behind. Stuff that got too heavy to carry like, guilt, grown ass lazy sons and daughters, what  I used to be and the idea that I was anything less than magnificent.  Let’s make a list so you know I’m traveling light. Put on your intergalactic walking shoes because this will be a trip.

1. Depression. It entered my life during the 1960s and continued to pester me to different degrees until fairly recently. With depression my first impulse was to remain home, whether or not I had money. And when I was out trying to enjoy life, depression sat nearby watching and waiting for me to slip up.  as Simon and Garfunkle once said, “hello, darkness, my  old friend.”
2. Mind reading. I once heard about a book “It would be so nice if you weren’t here” by an actor named Charles Grodin and for some reason the title resonated with me. At some point I decided that people didn’t want me to see me and i found ways to start disappearing. The clues that I uncovered about not being wanted were very discreet but now I realize they were all  fabricated by low self-esteem. I’m here, world, deal with me.
3. Let me tell you what I was.  Oh, yes here he comes again, one of those yesterdays. In 2012 I am responsible for being ready for what lies ahead.
4. First Christmas Away From Home. Actually, it’s #30. I left Buffalo in 1981, having grown  up in the world of church basement coffee houses and protests. One of the things I savored was  hearing those  old folk tunes. Not surprisingly I sought out the same environment here in Milwaukee. Yesterday I went back to  the 19th Street coffeehouse where I heard a friend Sandy  Weisto sing First Christmas Away From Home. It was very meaningful and touching.

Look Out World, My Niece Grace Has Come to Read!

Image via Wikipedia

By this time on Thursday I will be back in my home town of Buffalo and seeing my family. As a Baby Boomer, I was a child of integration. Thanks to the United States Supreme Court decision in Brown v Board of Education, the Buffalo public school system was invalid because it maintained two separate and unequal education systems.

Flash forward to 2011 and my niece Grace and I was talking with my older sister about possible gifts for this young girl who is the daughter of my nephew John and his wife. Coincidentally, John was born in 1969, the year I graduated from high school. John’s mother Chris was telling me about the way that he had loved Dr. Seuss books. She had thought about getting a collection of those books and ended up buying them for her grandson Brandon. Unfortunately he is on the autism spectrum.

I recently wrote a blog entry declaring that I would rather write than have sex. So you can imagine how I felt listening to Chris tell me how Grace likes to sit there at the kitchen table and read the newspaper. She’s 2 and she’s requesting that the adults make room for her as a reader.

What better tradition to start in a family than having the father read to his daughter. I remember hearing some story on public radio about this. So my first appearance as a character in my niece’s life may be as the one who helps her to discover the same books that her father read, Dr. Seuss. And the Grinch better not say a bleeping word about it.

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“Seriously!?” Saturday: “Goooooooooooo Incest!”

“Seriously!?” Saturday: “Goooooooooooo Incest!”.

 

Reposted from a young woman Kimberly Back about a prank in which students were kissed and groped in an odd contest at school

Why not take something that works?

I have been judging whether or not medications worked solely on the basis of what kind of results I personally achieved. I figure if I am able to work and maintain myself then the drugs must be working. To a certain extent that makes sense. However I have become concerned that some medications don’t actually work. Am I experiencing the dreaded placebo effect? On my previous blog entry I spoke of feeling depressed in spite of faithfully  taking an anti-depressant. So, why keep taking it?

I  was working, feeling good, and received a raise. So it must be doing something. What i began to sense was dissatisfaction with my quality of life. Like  Simon and Garfunkle said, “Im empty and aching and I don’t know why.” I have set some priorities for my life and yet in the daily work toward achieving them I lacked joy. Is that what we seek when we take anti-depressants?

So many millions of us are taking these pills and I’m curious about whether we are actually feeling better. And what do we mean by getting better? Today I laughed out loud several times. I enjoyed talking with people and going about mundane tasks. I felt more deeply present than I had been for some time. I am still looking for relief from a few minor issues in my feet. I used to take aspirin and rub pain relief cream on my feet regularly and now I don’t have to do those things.

I  can feel that something has  shifted because I substituted a couple of supplements for one medication. I am going to pay attention to my body and think about the kind of answers that I am receiving. Soon I expect to resume my exercise routine. Today’s message for my consumer friends is to ask, are you feeling better today than before you began taking whatever medication you are looking at right now? How can you tell that it’s working? Does taking the medication bring you joy?

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A Weighty Issue

Here is another one of my awful puns. Weight for it. Weight for it. Step off the scale, please. Over the years I have seen countless articles about the problem of Americans being overweight. But when I look at me and the men in our family, I keep wondering where are all of these heavy-set men? Most of the women I have been involved with have outweighed me. Sometimes by 40 pounds or more. There was one little cutie who did not. But she lived in Boston which probably explained the fluke. Another woman talked so much I was worried she might drive me crazy.

Almost everyone who is a consumer in the programs where I work weighs 20 or more pounds than me. When I was growing up  and eating as much as an average Hmong family, people who knew me, wondered where I put the weight. My dreaded metabolism burns off any small amount that I might attempt to gain.

At one point, after I became a consumer of medication I thought that I would steadily gain weight. In fact that was one of the main reasons why I resisted becoming a consumer in the first place.

A lot of people who were diagnosed in their teens and twenties  now have 20 or more years on powerful psychotropic medications. Their weight has gathered in the worst possible places: in their bellies. They end up in relationships with other big-bellied people. The few relatively slender women I encounter who are relatively near my age are not available because they are consumers. I also keep wondering where the excess women whose husbands were killed in the various wars we keep fighting have gone? Did they run off with with younger guys? Damn those cougars?

The hunt for the slender, unmarried, childless woman/not a mental health consumer continues.