Broken Without a Mommy and a Daddy

Looks like Wyoming is attempting to bolster their morals and values by introducing a bill. This bill would disallow the recognition of gay marriages from other states.

Same old song, same old dance, same old players.

One of the weakest arguments -- one that I'm tired of hearing, might I add -- is the fact that proponents of this bill state some opaque statistic that there are 'social implications' of children raised without a mommy or daddy. Like what? Clarification, please?

As a member of millions of children that were not raised in a 'traditional' family of mommy and daddy holding hands in matrimony, I take offense to this idiotic belief. After all... I haven't turned out like the twisted heterosexual, Ted Bundy... you know, the serial killer that terrorized women over the course of his 42 years. He was born illegitimately but gained a father before he was 5 years old.

Perhaps they can remember the sadistic acts of a man by the name of Jeffrey Dahmer, who terrorized homosexual men and male prostitutes. Sorry, Wyomingites... he had both parents in his household up to the age of 18 -- long after he'd already gouged a canyon's worth of troubles into his psychological profile.

Most Americans can recall the Oklahoma City bombing, carried out by a right-wing terrorist named Timothy McVeigh. He was born in an Irish-Catholic family along with two sisters, and had a mommy and a daddy up until aged 10.

Maybe... just maybe DIVORCE plays a much more important role in 'social implications' than does two men or two women getting married? Maybe these Wyoming legislators need to draw up a bill to ban divorces -- a much more sublime poison upon the walls of their 'traditional marriage' ideals.

25 Random Tidbits

25 Random Things

1. The final step to conquer my aviatophobia was to enter a career working for an airline, taking Dallas-Houston; Houston-Dallas flights, and then working up to longer flights.

2. I've always wondered why NFL football players only get on one knee and acknowledge God when they get into the end zone and score... never when they are sacked, or otherwise tackled for a loss of yards.

3. I hate being late, and have little patience for those who are late if they aren't bleeding to death, mangled in a car wreck, or in some other emergency.

4. I've consistently kept in touch with only two of my High School classmates since graduating in 1993, and now, I trust them with my life.

5. I'm allergic to bullets.

6. I LOVE cold weather. Bundling up makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.

7. I just had a dream last night of seeing 3 naked, dead bodies on the beach of some remote inlet... and no, I didn't put them there.

8. Just one cocktail, and I'm the life of the party.

9. I'm extremely bad at answering my mobile phone right away, as well as returning phone calls promptly. It's there for my convenience... not the person that's calling. Emergencies are my only exception.

10. I wonder if there would be an uproar if the author of "Stuff White People Like" would write the sequel, "Stuff Black People Like"?

11. I have two 5-year-old Sheltie dogs named Dirk and Yani.

12. It never fails... the closer a friend lives to me, the less often I see them.

13. I can't stand driving anywhere north of Northwest Highway in Dallas.

14. I'd rather be stranded in a blizzard with no food or water than work the morning shift at the office... unless it's for overtime or double-time pay.

15. I tend to stutter when I'm hungry, upset, or annoyed.

16. Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day.

17. I love road trips, especially out west.

18. Coffee is like gold to me... creamy and sweet, please.

19. I carry a maximum of $20 in my wallet.

20. I plant at least 1 tree per year.

21. Sometimes, I randomly choose a name out of my mobile phone book, dial, and start talking... just because.

22. After careful consideration, I'm officially declaring my 'scary age' is 43. I'll be over it the day after my 43rd birthday, if I'm blessed with that many more.

23. My least favorite chore is washing dishes by hand, loading/unloading the dishwasher... anything to do with dishes other than getting them dirty.

24. Although my bedroom stays clean, I never make the bed.

25. I prefer a stormy day over a sunny day.

Dating Pet Peeve #1

One of my elders always said that the best way to judge a man is by how he juggles time. If that's true, then things may not bode well in my dating life.

Now, I have to tell ya... when I agree to go out on a date with someone, 9.999 times out of 10, I am so nervous that I'm constantly going to the bathroom until the ordeal is over. Moreover, I get twice as conscientious about the passage of time prior to the date. This is because I feel much better if I am the first one to arrive at the mutually agreed location - whether on dates, to meetings, or other gatherings.

I hate being late. Rushing is usually not my style. I love to plan, plot, and take my time with things... savoring the day if its a 'pleasure-oriented' appointment. Not to mention that I feel like I'm inconveniencing someone if I make them wait because I'm running late.

So, not too long ago, I agreed to meet someone for a drink at 10:30PM. I waited... and waited... 10:45PM... 11PM... and finally, at 11:30PM, he strolls into the joint. I had already enjoyed 2 drinks and just started a game of Ms. Pac-Man. We had our introductions as I continued to dodge ghosts on the 2nd level of the game... gobbling up dots like candy. As I feverishly attempted to snag the bananas that came onto the screen, a ghost got me! It was my last chance -- GAME OVER.

I finally turned my full attention to the guy, and he asked if I'd like another drink. Unfortunately, I had to be at work the next morning -- as I stated on the telephone when I agreed to this shindig. An hour or so is really all I had to invest into the date. "No, thank you." I replied. Then, I smiled at the very attractive man, put down my empty glass, and told him to enjoy his evening.

I left.

Some would call me an asshole... and that's OK. Some men are forgiving when such things happen. I'm only forgiving if they acknowledge that they were late and politely apologize. What does that say about a guy that keeps someone waiting and waiting and waiting? Pick up the phone... call a brotha. If you are low on minutes, I'll gladly reimburse you. If it costs too much to text me, I'll foot the $.10 bill. Sheesh... let me know you are running late. Communicate.

I may have been harsh. I may have been rude. I may have been out of line. I accept that opinion gracefully. But, in these parts... as she says... the best way to judge a man is by how he juggles time.

Aged to Perfection

I just got home from working a bit of overtime. I couldn't get out to Columbus, Ohio yesterday due to Mother Nature. So, I figured, what the hell. Might as well find a silver lining on the cloud and line my pockets with a bit of extra cash. Hey, a brotha's gotta eat!

In the meantime, I received my first email in the Black Man Next Door's mailbag asking, "Why don't you show pictures of men with some skin?"

My answer: There are enough blogs out there that focus entirely on the beauty of the nude human male. Consent to viewing 'adult content' and enjoy them.

Here, when I do drool over men, I prefer to post pictures of men in everyday clothes... to capture the essence of something more than nudity can provide. Personality. Emotion. Lifestyle. There is something to be said about unraveling certain primal mysteries of the human male rather than having it all presented to you at once.

Patrick Dempsey, for instance. His photo to the upper right invokes such a powerful mystic -- his gaze drawing me into his web -- wanting to know more... to feel more. In fact, he is one of the men featured in this newest Weekly Poll (featured on the left sidebar of my blog). All of the contestants are age 40 or better. Check it out, and log your vote.

The Big Three OH?!

I guess we all have our 'scary' age, huh? Some have a weird number like 43 or 66 or 71. If I had one, I'd tell ya.

But 30? Where did gay society mark such a small number as the "Over the Hill" milestone? Some take it with grace.. others take it as an apocalyptic disaster of immense proportions.

For me, when I turned 30 on March 12, 2005, it was a rather graceful, quiet event. Two things come to mind when I hear some whiny guy talk about the Big Three OH (shit)...

1) There ain't a damned thing you can do about it, except kill yourself the day before.
2) Many people don't even make it out of their teens due to the violence of the world -- much less out of their 20s.

But most importantly to ask, what makes 30 such a taboo number in gay circles? What changes from the last day of being in your 20s to the first day of being in your 30s? Does a billion wrinkles suddenly pop up on our faces? Are we suddenly unattractive? Does our sex life abruptly cut off?

When will we embrace the idea that age is totally disconnected from individuality? There are 60-year-olds that act like little immature brats. There are 20-year-olds that act much more mature than others in their age group. There are 50-year-olds that can still light the fires under the sheets... then, there are 18-year-old, gray-haired men that can't get it up.

I will be lucky to see 40, 50, or beyond. For those who are already there... consider that the next time you moan about your age. For those of you dreading the "Big Three Oh", just know that it will be what you make of it. It can be one of the best times of your life!

It is for me, so far....

The Observation Deck

Well, today was my first of 11 days from work, and I spent most of it sleeping! Adjusting from the graveyard shift back into the real world can be difficult at times. I suspect as I get older, it will only get more difficult.

Speaking of jobs and working... I was sad to hear that a man killed his 5 children, wife, and finally himself out in Los Angeles. Apparently, he just lost his job, like so many others - and took things over the edge.

I never understood what drives someone to kill those that they love over situations such as these. Many of us have lost, quit, or been fired from a job before... dusted ourselves off... and kept going - especially if you are blessed enough to have a family with children for support.

Hmmmmm... family.

If only American gays and lesbians were blessed to have their families recognized by the federal government. If only we didn't have to claw and fight our way into acceptance... into a means of having the rights and privileges afforded to heterosexual families. I would have loved to tell the father that murdered his family to think about the silver lining before demolishing his world with a gun. There are countless people out there that see your world as treasure, even if you have just lost your job.

In the meantime, the "Black Man Next Door" is off to Columbus, Ohio tomorrow morning -- weather permitting. I hope the ice storm doesn't embrace the Dallas area too hard overnight and cause flight cancellations in the morning! I'm looking forward to joining my good Midwestern friends for a bit of fun tomorrow!

Where Were You Then?

1986

Tonight is my last graveyard shift, and I'm happy to report that the next 11 days will be MINE to have off from work! In the meantime, tonight is one of my "nostalgic" moments... a time to reflect back on better times. Perhaps in looking back, I can make a feeble attempt at tucking a slice of good memories into my pocket -- and dragging them into my future.

The year in mind is 1986. That means every blogger and reader can instantly deduct a whopping 23 years off of their age. I was a young tyke... caught in between peace and turmoil. A handful of my own co-workers weren't even alive yet, and history tells of a year chocked full of not-so-good events around the world.

I remember sitting in class when I heard about the Challenger disaster. My mother was thrilled about an African-American crew member going into space again. I had moved out of urban Dallas into a much smaller, majority Caucasian town to the southwest just two years earlier. Therefore, I was still adjusting to a new environment, new friends, and a new stepfather. It was the beginning of two years of abuse by a man only 9 years older than me... a man who knew who I was before I did.

It was the first time that I hated someone. It was the first time that I prayed to God that someone would be deleted out of my life... however the Almighty saw fit. It was a feeling that I swore not to embrace ever again -- for life is too short for such dark emotions to consume one's soul. It's a lesson in the value of life... a lesson that I still remember and adhere to to this day.

Tell the "Black Man Next Door" what you were up to in 1986? Where were you in the world? Did 1986 teach you any lessons, or provide any memories?

1986 TIDBITS

• FOX Network was born.
• The Oprah Winfrey Show hit U.S. national airwaves.
• U.S. Supreme Court bars racial bias in trial jury selection.
• U.S.S.R. (Soviet Union) suffers a major nuclear incident at Chernobyl.
• The constitutionality of Bowers v. Hardwick, a Georgia sodomy law, was upheld by the U.S. Supreme Court.
• Austin, TX, USA passes an ordinance prohibiting discrimination against people with HIV or AIDS.
  

What Would I Do With This Man? (Week 3)

It's Monday... AGAIN... and it's not just any old Monday, it's the first Monday under the President Barack Obama era! My mind is quickly delving into the third installment of "What Would I Do With This Man?", daydreaming and conjuring up pleasant thoughts.

Right on schedule, this brotha is experiencing a delicious thought about being with a certain male celebrity in some random difficult situation. Not necessarily something as naughty as a porn film, but hypothetical and challenging situations... paired with just the right fantasy man to get me through them.

So, to recap... in week 1, the local stud and actor Jensen Ackers went through thick and thin with me during a snowstorm on Colorado's Mt. Lindsay. Last week, I dreamed of teaming up with hearthrob Shemar Moore to fend off some pissy island natives. All had happy endings, so this week, the bar has been raised high.

You'll have to bear with my brain, as I am on yet another graveyard shift. Tomorrow, I'm looking forward to heading to Columbus, Ohio to visit my best friends for a few days. -- then driving to Chicago. The good news is, the visions surfacing in my head would most likely never be something Chicagoans worry about.

As I sit here, the dream of my newest hypothetical situation begins. I dream that the silence is being gradually replaced with a howling noise. I'm suddenly thrusted into the bedroom of an old Victorian home somewhere near the U.S. Gulf Coast. All has gone dark, and the howling grows louder... and louder... until suddenly, the rain begins. A respectable Category 3 hurricane has roared ashore, and it won't be long before it passes over this very house.

My fantasy celebrity man and I have made preparations as best we could -- and now, it's up to Mother Nature to carve our fates. One by one, we light candles until the home has warmed with an eerie glow. Afterwards, I began to worry about basic stuff, such as food and dealing with the aftermath of the storm. So, who is this male celebrity that's about to feel the storm's wrath with me? My choice would be: Milo Ventimiglia.

Why Milo? Fair question. After all, some may not be familiar with this delicious man who plays Peter, an empath, on the show Heroes.

After reading up a little bit about my latest pick, he seems quite in his element being a "nester"... a homebody, if you will. I am certainly not out of my comfort zone being at home, either. He's a great cook, which is always nice, because I'm a great eater. I'm sure Milo could improvise without the convenience of power. I, on the other hand, am useless in the kitchen without power or a recipe book.

He's not a smoker, which is great, because there's nothing worse than a nervous person fogging up the house by smoking a pack at a time. Not to mention, he doesn't drink alcohol, which leaves more for me. Wild Turkey is delicious, and I have needs, too.

As the storm intensifies and envelops the house with sheets of wetness, I could just sit there and stare into Milo's eyes forEVER. He certainly fits the "guy-next-door" type, and his profile radiates humbleness and humility. If my true "guy-next-door" was anything like Milo, this brotha would be banging on his door every day for a cup of friggin' sugar -- even though my cabinet is full of the sweet grain.

Nevertheless, I could easily believe that Milo has both feet on the ground and a level head... even though the house may crumble around him. It's that demeanor and quality that I'd mesh well with -- and subsequently help us survive the hurricane together. As an added bonus, one of his hobbies is restoring a home! Once this whole things blows over, he conveniently converts into a handyman... and I'll be right there to help him "drill, baby, drill".

The "Gay No Mo" Potion

Pssst... hey you.

Yes, you, dammit.

Come here.

You look ill. In fact, you look just downright miserable. What's wrong? Boyfriend broke up with you? Don't you know that men can't love you like women can? All they want to do is satisfy their lustful urges, fill you with their seeds of joy, then toss you to the curb. Is that the lifestyle you really want?

How old are you, 25?

24.

Ah, 24. Nice and young. This isn't the way you want your life to play out... unfulfilled... miserable... lonely... and then to only roast in hell when its over. Your pain and suffering can end if you make the right choice. Thank God I've got just the answer for you, too.

Drink this potion. I call it my "Gay No Mo" Potion... an elixir that will profoundly change your life. Your life is worth $2500, isn't it? Actually, your flame is burning kinda bright... better have my extra-strength "Gay No Mo" Potion. I'll upgrade that for no additional charge.

GUZZLE......

Right this second, the path towards the "Ex-Gay Movement" is beginning for some unsuspecting gay man/woman that is grappling with very difficult emotions and issues. Right now, as you read this post, someone is guzzling the "Gay No Mo" potion in an effort to bring peace to inner turmoil. Right now, a predator is devouring its prey.

Today, I stumbled across an online community dedicated to those who have emerged from ex-gay experiences. As I'm continuing to read, I can already tell that these are stories that will captivate my heart for a long time to come.

It makes me realize that our enemies are broad-reaching and powerful. Some are wolves dressed in sheep's clothing. Some are wolves dressed in Shepard's clothing. Some are wolves in the buff. I just don't know which one's worse.

Meanwhile, I'm at work on a double shift today... locked into place until 6:00am tomorrow. The seas are calm for me personally, and there are no predators chasing me... at least for the moment. But for some of my homosexual brethren, that simply isn't the case.

Sigh... I need coffee. Extra-strength. It's only been an 8-hour break since my last graveyard shift... 35 minute commute each way... dogs demanding at least an hour's playtime... roommate bumpin' and thumpin' some trick in his bedroom... all of these disturbances adds up to very little sleep time. Ahhhhh.... just 10 1/2 hours until I'm outta here and into a nice, empty, cold bed to slumber amidst the frigid Texas air howling outside of my window.

Hope everyone had a great weekend!

The Silver Fox Trap

I took a good long look in the mirror yesterday... something I don't do very often. Mirrors have long freaked me out for some odd reason. They don't necessarily show you what you think you should see. Then, some mirrors show you what you don't want to see. Some turn you away. Some draw you near.

Attractive features.
Not-so-attractive features.

What gives these features their power? Why do fine lines, wrinkles, gray hair, or no hair spawn such an ominous outlook on the person we see in the mirror. These are certainly not the features that make me freak out on mirrors, and perhaps when I'm in a more open mood, I'll tell you what they are. Nevertheless, everyone knows that growing old is inevitable. Everyone knows the endgame is death. Never mind that these features can easily make their presence known on younger people, too.

Still, we run. Still, we hide. Still, we dye (no pun intended). Hmmmm... speaking of dye... I couldn't help but laugh at my friend, "Godfather", who recently attempted to dye the few speckles of gray hair out of his head. It didn't turn out quite how he wanted... and if you remember the movie Ghost, featuring Patrick Swayze, Demi Moore, and Whoopi Goldberg -- perhaps you'll recognize the following lines:

"Damn, baby! Whatchoo do to yo hair?!" said Orlando.
"It's my new look, Orlando. You like it? It's Autumn Sunrise!" his wife replies.

Godfather certainly knew what I was talking about when I repeated those lines, but he didn't think it was quite funny. I risked my life and accused him of having "autumn sunrise" on his head. Now, some of you older gentleman may think I have the luxury of joking about Godfather's "mishap" for now, but actually, I have gray hair as well.

I shaved my head bald years ago, though... and I've always loved either look. I have cataloged 36 gray hairs not just on my head, but chest and ummm... other areas. I'm one of the 'younger' men that actually LOVES gray hair on a man. Mark Harmon, (pictured left)... and Jon Stewart (pictured above)... are just a sample.

To me, it invokes experience, power, stateliness, endurance, and a host of other complimentary components of character. In my opinion, the Silver Fox that embraces his features is a compelling story in itself. It takes confidence to stand pat, rather than run from Father Time.

We all know He will hunt us down eventually. In the meantime, those like my good friend "Godfather" damage their hair with harmful chemicals that taint a graceful look... splashing their heads with shades of orange, blond, red, black, and brown.

I could swear I even heard Godfather talk of plastic surgery. NO!! I'm starting a campaign called Friends Against Defiling Godfather! This is the man that already has a bucking stud that loves him for who he is.... *sigh* ... we should all be so lucky.

Botox.
Eye Creams.
Hair dyes.
Anti-aging creams.
Anti-wrinkle butter.
Liposuction.
Plastic Surgery.

Someone stands to make an enormous amount of money creating such demonic tools to prey upon those who run against the tide. It's a "Silver Fox Trap".... and for the silver gay fox that runs, I say this. Just know that there are many in our community that admire, adore, and are attracted to you.

Embrace yourself and show off that sexiness, and sure as the sunrise, a quality man will embrace you.

Mayor's Eye for a Twink Guy

Here I am, multitasking on the graveyard shift again. There's just 2 more to work after tonight, and then I receive 12 days off to do as I please! In the meantime, a multitude of thoughts roam through my brain tonight. I just read up on the plight of an openly gay Portland, Oregon mayor (Sam Adams) who is wrestling with the thought of resigning from office.

Why?

Because he jumped in the sack with a then-18-year old legislative intern named Beau Breedlove nearly 5 years ago. Hmmm.. as long as the young man was in fact verified to be legal at the time, what's the big deal? Besides, there's spice and adventure to be had in an age-gap nowadays!

Anyway, so I also read that Mr. Adams lied about it. So what? I understand that owners of certain publications believe that their image is tarnished because of this flap. But, people aren't stupid enough to tuck tail and run away from a paper that painted Sam Adams in a positive light prior to all of this ruckus.

Besides, if the mayor had said that it happened when it actually happened, then someone would have asked him whether he was the 'pitcher' or the 'catcher'... and then how many positions did they screw in... and then how long his manhood was... I mean, seriously -- when do we simply accept that some things are none of our business, even if we are in office. Sometimes I wonder what is the POINT of knowing the answer to some of the questions we ask nowadays.

I guess I just accepted a long time ago that people (especially politicians) have always lied, and will continue to do so. Trying to put someone in office that is pristine clean is a waste of time in my opinion... and borderline delusional. That's all part of being human, especially when you lie out of fear of losing something, such as your job.

Being gay doesn't exempt us from that. If we are worried how the heterosexual eye will be further slanted towards stereotypes, we can always point to President Clinton -- who lied about his seedy encounter on national television.

Then again, Monica wasn't a teenager. Do you think we would see this indiscretion any differently if she was barely legal? If so, why? .... and to run further.. if Beau Breedlove was say... 25... would this issue play out any differently if Mr. Adams lied about having sex with him?

Hmmmm.... okay, time to run some reports and get some actual work done before 6:00am. Hope everyone has a wonderful night!!

Anything Can Happen in America

For those of you beyond America's borders... and for those of you within... if you think gay marriage will never happen here, consider this poster.

Less than 150 years ago, Clymer (The White Guy) ran on a platform of white supremacy. He was the Democrat. Geary ran for Pennsylvania governor on a platform for "the Negro" -- pro-Suffrage, that is. Geary was the Republican.

Back then, Democrats used to use the word "radical" as a slang name to demean those who had different views than theirs. Nowadays, Republicans use the word "liberal" as a slang name to demean those who have different views than they do.

This country didn't allow inter-ethnic marriages until 1967. It took the U.S. Supreme Court to undo the damage of the Democratic Virginia Legislature done back in 1924. Today, we are graced with the presence of an African-American (DEMOCRAT) President Barack Obama. In fact, a vast majority of African Americans are Democrats.

Hang on to your hats... it's a testament to two things. One, a label can change just as its product can. In fact, labels just plain suck. Two, never underestimate the fickleness of humanity.

Dallas Gay Couple Files for Divorce -- in Texas!?

What do you get when a gay Texan files for divorce, when he married someone in Massachusetts?

Confusion.

If this case ends up in the Texas Supreme Court, these gentlemen won't have a prayer. They have a snowball's chance in hell requesting a divorce in such a hostile, conservative environment... especially from a marriage that Texas doesn't recognize as legal anyway.

Herein lies the conundrum of the current gay marriage movement in the United States. One state doesn't have to honor another state's laws and values. You marry someone in Massachusetts, move to Arizona, and you could have one hell of a time getting a divorce if things go awry.

Maybe it's best that there is no divorcing in gay marriages? Perhaps we would take them seriously and critically soul search before entering a gay marriage. Maybe this is a way to really show heterosexuals how it's done right -- take a vow until death do us part, and truly mean it. Hmmm... then again... homicide and suicide rates are high enough as it is.

Won't You Be His Neighbor?

My newest poll has arrived on the left hand side of my blog, entitled "Got Sugar?" Seven men are vying to be your next door, flirty neighbor. However, only one of them can move next door to you. I'm curious to know who the most popular gentleman will be! I'll give you just a bit of background to help you get started. They come in several shapes, sizes, and flavors... so log in your choice!



<---- Will it be Albert Reed, the 6' 2.5" Abercrombie & Fitch Model? At 23 years old, this Pisces could make for an interesting choice. He loves surfing and has a mountain hideaway in Colorado.










Or perhaps Amaury Nolasco, a Capricorn, would provide a bit of Puerto Rican flavor? At age 38, he's best known for his role as Fernando Sucre on the TV series Prison Break. He harbored ambitions to be a doctor someday, and he supported Barack Obama's presidential campaign. --->














<--- Then again, 25-year-old actor Brandon Ruckdaschel could easily run low on sugar. Born in Minnesota, and a Pisces, he's known for his role as Riley on the TV show The Lair. He loves photography.















Next contestant, who stands at 5' 9" is 29-year-old Virgo, Dave Annable. He plays Justin Walker on Brothers and Sisters. Born in New York, he's an avid sports fan, and loves baseball, hockey, and rugby. --->










<--- How about this 35-year-old Leo, Michael Ealy (Brown)? He's an American actor, and had roles as Ricky in Barber Shop and Barber Shop 2, as well as a role in 2 Fast 2 Furious... and yes, I checked on the eyes -- they are naturally blue.












Or how about 6' 1", 36-year-old Gemini, Wentworth Miller? Born in the UK, he also starred in Prison Break and the movie Underworld. He has a degree in English Literature, and he also comes from a very diverse background; his father is of African-American, Jamaican, English, German, Jewish and Cherokee descent, and his mother is of Russian, French, Dutch, Syrian and Lebanese descent. --->













<--- Last, but certainly not least is your potential 6' 3" neighbor, 38-year-old Aries, Shemar Moore. He majored in Communications and played baseball. He currently plays the role of Derek Morgan on Criminal Minds. His mother is Caucasian, and his father is African-American.

So, here are your choices. Vote in the poll on the left hand side of this website, and may the best gentleman move next door to you!

Exploitation of the First Daughters?

Well, that certainly didn't take long. Ty, Inc. has spawned two new dolls in their TyGirlz collection named Marvelous Malia and Sweet Sasha. A spokesperson insists that the dolls aren't named after the First Daughters.

Now, to play Devil's advocate for a brief moment -- yes, it appears to be a brilliant piece of marketing at just the right time. Controversy brings cash. However tasteless it may seem to use the names of living influencial characters, the dolls don't really look like the First Daughters at all. There are dozens of African-American females named Malia and many more named Sasha.

First Lady (damn, I love that title) Michelle Obama has given a stamp of disapproval -- and from her side of the fence, I can understand. Once associated with the First Daughters, if could affect how the toys actually play on a child's developing psyche. It remains to be seen what can actually be done about it. The last thing this country needs is more lawsuits over things like this.

My First Relationship With an HIV+ Man (Part 3)

My best friend arrived later that evening, and I still could not grasp the profound change that had taken place with just one earlier phone call. My boyfriend decided to go to East Texas and spend time with friends. Meanwhile, sure as the sun sets, my best friend and I paid the liquor store for a bit of 'sorrow medicine' and came to my house.

I looked him in the eye and told him everything from beginning to end. He asked me if I wanted to be told what I want to hear, or what I need to hear. Fair question. I told him to tell me what I need to hear. Boy, did he ever.

First, the fact that my East Texas beau said that they administered the oral swab but never drew blood would raise a huge red flag to anyone that is familiar with CDC mandates. Not me. I was too naive and distraught to understand what was really going on. But after my friend turned my beau's story into swiss cheese, I called him -- but he didn't answer. After two days, I decided to pay a visit to his mother in Longview, TX.

We sat down and she served up some delicious coffee and breakfast tacos. She was a nervous wreck... smoking one cigarette after another. Finally, she gathered her nerves and took a long puff before leveling her eyes on me. Immediately, she said that she had been concerned about him because she discovered some of his meds while cleaning the house. Also, she found out that he had missed several doctor appointments. She then asked me if I knew that he was HIV positive -- as if to convince herself that he really disclosed that to me, and for a moment, I could feel my jaw dragging against the carpet fibers. I quietly answered, "Yes, Ma'am."

Early in the conversation, I realized that he was playing both sides... lying to me and his mother at the same time to hold things together without conflict. I was absolutely mortified at what I was hearing. My best friend beat around the truth, which was -- my boyfriend had HIV for quite some time, and knew it when he entered the relationship with me. He knew he was infected when he had sex with me... over, and over, and over again.

But, love blinded me even further. Once I finally got in contact with him, we had it out. I was so furious with him... but ultimately decided to give him a chance to make things right. My best friend was brimming with lividity, but respected my decision. I fully expected the two of them not to get along for eons to come.

One day, I left for work with everything seemingly okay. I had to work a double shift, so I knew I wouldn't be back home until 6 the next morning. It was a brutal night at work, and when I got home, I was so ready to snuggle up next to him in bed --- only -- he wasn't there. The scent of his hair... empty hangers dangling in the closet... houseplants... dog... everything was gone. He wisped away in the middle of the night; an ominous note left in his wake.

He was too afraid he'd infect me.

I had been dumped because I was HIV negative.

He reunited with his ex-lover, the man who infected him, but it didn't last long. Over the holidays of 2008, he sent me a few text messages... he was getting very sick.

I am a forgiver, but not a forgetter. He said that he had made a terrible mistake... my response?

"Yes, I know."

The problem is... he really could have dumped me out of love. Maybe the power of love is in the giving and not the keeping? Maybe at times when we need it most, we must let it go? *sigh* I guess love's face isn't always pretty, is it?

The lesson for both of us? Before getting back together with an ex-lover... stop and realize why it didn't work the first time before taking them back. It could save a lot of pain and heartache in the times ahead.

Tribulations of Black Men vs. White Men

A week or so ago, a fellow gay, Texan blogger posted a rather interesting comment to my January 14th post entitled "Balancing Act". An exerpt of his comment is as follows:

"Wish you would write a post sometime giving your view on the difference in coming out to your family, black as compared to white. I've read a number of times that it's harder for blacks and that's why many are on the "down low..."

He welcomed my input into this aspect of coming out in a Black family as opposed to a White family with the following question:

"...How is it different, say, if your family is urban, black, and A.M.E., than if they are rural, white, and Southern Baptist?"

Let me offer my belief in the form of an analogy. Your baseball team has been down all game; inning after inning was spent trying to catch up. Now, you are down to the final out. This is your chance to hit a home run, and you step up to the plate.

Now, imagine this same scenario, split, yet happening at the same time with two different batters --- one White, and one Black. The (Caucasian) umpire is "society", and he's just called 3 balls and 1 strike for the White batter. The Black fans in the stands are livid, because they thought ALL of the balls thrown so far were strikes.

In the other split scenario with the Black batter, again the (Caucasian) umpire is "society", and he's just called 2 strikes and 2 balls. Again, the Black fans in the stands are livid, but in this scenario, they are mad because they thought ALL of the balls pitched so far were nowhere close to being strikes.

Which batter do you think is under more pressure to swing and succeed on the very next pitch? The Black.. or White batter? Now, imagine this scenario playing out over generations. Perceptions have morphed and hardened over time, especially in the Black family unit --- and the Black fans in both games are now adamant that what they saw was reality.

In a time where few Black men step up to the plate and be real fathers... in a time where more are in jail than in college... in a time of constantly playing catchup... how would a family feel if they gave birth to a Black man or woman that showed promise -- only to find out they are gay? Already down 1 strike for being Black in this society, strike 2 for being gay/lesbian, many within the Black family unit see 'you' as the game changer... the "One" that can fight against society's hatred and win... propelling the family into a brighter future by bringing forth offspring in your image. The pressure is enormous -- and I speak firsthand.

Perception is a bitch, man... and I by no means am saying it is harder for all Blacks. There are White men and women that went through an unimaginably difficult 'Tribulation'. For those people who are "on the down low", I believe they are firmly planted in the 3rd step of the Tribulation -- Realization. Many Blacks are caught in a delicate balancing act out of fear of losing family members. So are Whites, Latinos, and other ethnicities... but again, the pressure and perception of this particular society, to many Blacks, tips the scale in the other direction.

Forgive me for yet another analogy, but for the most part, a person spends more fuel trying to lift off in a tougher environment with the wind at their face. To me, the urban, Black scenario generally fits this analogy more than a rural, White scenario --- and religion I don't think tips the scales either way, since both could be Southern Baptist and raised in an ultra-religious family structure.

That's my two cents, my friend.. now I'm broke.

My First Relationship With an HIV+ Man (Part 2)

So, I told him that it didn't change anything, which wasn't entirely accurate -- because it did. What I meant was, I didn't want to break up with him because he was HIV+. He broke down in tears on the phone, and I just listened. I waited. After his last tear dried, there was an eerie silence.

All sorts of thoughts raced through my head. Now that we had expressed our willingness to keep this thing going, my attention turned to getting tested again. When I got to the clinic, they had me fill out all sorts of paperwork with questions. I felt like I was going through a confirmation hearing, and I carefully weighed my options on whether to do this thing anonymously or not.

Ultimately, I was HIV-... which was a relief, even though in the recesses of my mind, there was only the slimmest chance that I'd be otherwise. It was a scary experience, and I had to critically assess whether this is something I could do on a much more regular basis. This is what I'd be going through every 3 months for as long as I'm in a relationship with him. On top of all the other sources of anxiety in my life, could I have bitten off more than I could chew?

Then, my best friend from Chicago, IL -- one of the best flight attendants in the world (*grin*) -- called me to find out my results. Up until now, he only had a light dusting of details; a synopsis of the entire timeline. So, I filled him in on all the intimate details from the beginning of the relationship to the current moment. He sensed relief and something else in my voice. Some sort of alarm sounded in his head, and something I had just told him convinced him to hop on the very next flight down to Dallas. He was coming to look me in the eye and repeat everything I just said... and I damned well knew it.

As I made my way from the clinic over to get a coffee at the Crossroads Market, my friend was already getting preparing to take flight. I'll be the first to tell you... this friend of mine is the nicest, sweetest guy ever. However, he's the type that can spot a "Bull Shitter" a mile away, back up a mile, and still hit that Bull Shitter between the eyes with a pea shooter from 2 miles away. I had less than 4 hours to gather myself, because if anyone could make me look hard into a mirror -- it was him.

Hidden to me at the time, there were several things I told him that didn't add up. He was coming on a rescue mission... to rescue me from a world that I was powerless to hold together.

TO BE CONTINUED

My First Relationship With an HIV+ Man (Part 1)

I'm about to open up to you about something that most of my closest friends did not know prior to this post debuting on "The Black Man Next Door". It was the most challenging and darkest hour of my existence, and it's taking everything inside of me to open this door and let some light in.

Picture it... Dallas... February 2008... my initial conversations with a 28-year-old man from East Texas were heating up. You probably know where I'm coming from when I mention how refreshing it is to chat with someone online about ordinary, everyday things.

There are no talks about penis size. There are no questions about 'pitching' or 'catching'. Now granted, hot sex-talk is nearly inevitable at some point leading up to a relationship... but as I progress through my 30s, I find it more and more distasteful to do so before even finding out each others name.

Much to my relief, my newfound East Texas beau and I properly introduced ourselves LONG before getting into any sex talk, and I felt really good talking to him. So, a couple of weeks later, something happened to me that had never happened before. This man actually asked me out on a date, and he offered to make the short drive into Dallas to meet me at Cafe Brazil. We cemented the plans and our first date was on.

Needless to say, things went very, very well... and he decided to move to Dallas so we could truly be together. Then, one day at work, I received a phone call from him. He informed me that he had recently gone to get an HIV test again and this time, it came back positive. I suddenly felt like I was breathing through a straw, and I dropped the phone on the desk.

Granted, I had never had unprotected sex with him -- and HIV isn't the death sentence it used to be -- I was still mortified. Yes, I was scared for myself -- but when tears streamed down my face, they were tears for him. I couldn't imagine what he was going through, and all I wanted to do was hold him. My dear friend and co-worker, nicknamed "Godfather", caught wind that something was amiss and escorted me outside before the waterworks really got out of my control.

This day would be my first encounter with the issue of having relations with an HIV positive man. The dynamics suddenly posed a myriad of challenges for us. The emotions I felt were an elixir of shock, fear, confusion, sadness.... and love. Later that afternoon, he called back and offered me an easy way out. If I wanted to end it right then and there, he expressed his understanding. However, the thought of ending the relationship never crossed my mind... and that's when I knew that my love for him was real.

However, unbeknownst to me at the time, there were darkening clouds swirling around the dynamics of this relationship that neither of us could ignore....

TO BE CONTINUED

Get to Know Us First

The Difference of a Day

Okay, this sucks. What a way to kick off the Obama era! After the Inaugural festivities yesterday, I went over to the home of my friend, "The Godfather". He had taped the entire inaugural ceremony, and we watched with teary eyes from beginning to end. I cooked steaks, mashed potatoes & gravy, and collard greens w/cornbread. He supplied the Wild Turkey and Coke. It was an evening of laughs and gentle political talk.

Oh, what a difference a day can make.

Today, after spending a sleepless night coddling a throbbing tooth, I am awaiting my 11:30am appointment for a root canal. That equates to roughly $1100 for one tooth, and I still don't understand to this day WHY we need separate dental insurance from medical insurance in order to keep ourselves healthy. It's no wonder the American middle class is getting squeezed to death. We seem to be set up for failure on a lot of issues -- especially when it comes to medical expenses.

Seize the Moment

This post is dedicated to my heterosexual friends, family, and acquaintances that tell me they "just don't understand" why we think we deserve certain things like gay marriage. It is also dedicated to the delusional that roam within the fold.

Today, on the inauguration of the 44th President of the United States, President Obama, politics rules the universe. Many of 'us' avoid politics for various reasons. Some, because they feel nothing gets done... others still think that it just doesn't affect their lives personally. Understandable.

Or should I say, Understandable?

Today I watched the Inauguration with tears of joy streaming down my face. I've never felt that sensation before, and for those who have experienced success, struggle, pain, and suffering -- you know that politics is EVERYTHING... whether you like it, or not. Politics is in the office... on Capitol Hill... in your house... in your family... amongst your friends... it's always there.

Of course, I can't speak for you personally - but for me, I can attest to the success of adhering to a strict policy of not ever turning my back on the power of 'politics'. I wouldn't have this house over my head. I wouldn't have the car I drive. I wouldn't have the promotions at work. Quite simply, I refuse to let people step all over me... and I've been told many times what I can't do, where I can't go, and who I can't be. The painful thing is that most of the time, it was the people closest to me that dished out the harshest criticism.

Bottom line - we have to look out for each other and ourselves, and that's what politics is truly about. Seize a moment of change, drop the defeatist attitudes, and do something to better ourselves rather than rely solely on politicians. I, for one, feel really good about this day -- for more reasons than one. Now, will the Obama Administration actually do anything for the GLBT community? That remains to be seen. But, if we collectively lie around and do or say nothing -- then we will certainly have footprints embedded all over our bodies.

I, for one, would love to see our community stop feeding existing stereotypes that we are nothing more than empty, dirty, sex-loving, lusting fiends who will burn in hell. For the most part, I feel like our counterparts see us as soul-less human beings devoid of feelings, sentimentality, and all the other components of respectable human beings. I would love to see our community work harder to erase these thoughts -- and open people's eyes to who GLBT human beings really are.

However, more and more, I feel that we as a community are bringing most of our problems and difficulties upon ourselves. How can we expect those on the outside to respect us and treat us as equals if we are showing them exactly what they believe we are? After combing through many blogs that are GLBT oriented, it sucks to run across those that are nothing more than just hot male photos and outright porn. But, as I find those to the contrary, I'm certainly excited to add them to my list of blogs to keep up with.

After all... we are teachers; doctors; dentists; lawyers; community organizers; mentors; church-goers; law enforcement; military servicemen. We are EVERYWHERE -- and we have hearts and souls. We have friends and family in the military that fight and die for a country that generally hates them for who they are. In the face of adversity, we bleed with desire, ambition, and conscience -- and deserve to be much more than some bible-thumper's moral stepping stone.

So, if you have any recommendations for blogs, stories, and links that support this view of our community, please send them to me! Some talk about sexuality is natural and good -- as long as the blog or site doesn't focus entirely on that aspect of the GLBT community. I look forward to your recommendations and passing them along to those on the outside!

The 20th Amendment

Yo-Yo Ma is still performing a beautiful piece, and Barack Obama has yet to take the Oath. However, as of right now, he's President of the United States anyway -- as the 20th Amendment dictates that his term starts at 12:00PM EST -- whether he's taken the oath or not!

Welcome, Mr. President! Let's get started!! Here's exerpt of the 20th Amendment:

"Section 1. The terms of the President and Vice President shall end at noon on the 20th day of January, and the terms of Senators and Representatives at noon on the 3rd day of January, of the years in which such terms would have ended if this article had not been ratified; and the terms of their successors shall then begin.

Section 2. The Congress shall assemble at least once in every year, and such meeting shall begin at noon on the 3rd day of January, unless they shall by law appoint a different day.

Section 3. If, at the time fixed for the beginning of the term of the President, the President elect shall have died, the Vice President elect shall become President. If a President shall not have been chosen before the time fixed for the beginning of his term, or if the President elect shall have failed to qualify, then the Vice President elect shall act as President until a President shall have qualified; and the Congress may by law provide for the case wherein neither a President elect nor a Vice President elect shall have qualified, declaring who shall then act as President, or the manner in which one who is to act shall be selected, and such person shall act accordingly until a President or Vice President shall have qualified.

Section 4. The Congress may by law provide for the case of the death of any of the persons from whom the House of Representatives may choose a President whenever the right of choice shall have devolved upon them, and for the case of the death of any of the persons from whom the Senate may choose a Vice President whenever the right of choice shall have devolved upon them.

Section 5. Sections 1 and 2 shall take effect on the 15th day of October following the ratification of this article.

Section 6. This article shall be inoperative unless it shall have been ratified as an amendment to the Constitution by the legislatures of three-fourths of the several States within seven years from the date of its submission."

Beating Around the Bush

Wow, the day is upon us. As the sun continues to rise here in North Texas, we as Americans have a lot of reflection to do -- both backwards and forwards. When it comes to President George W. Bush, I've been beating around the bush while expressing my true feelings about him.

This is his "home state", though technically, born in Connecticut I don't consider him a native Texan. In a few hours, as the Obamas get settled into their new nest, the Bushes will be heading back to their old one... just 12 miles north of "The Black Man Next Door" and less than 5 miles from where "The Black Man Next Door" works.

When I first heard about SMU being chosen as the site for our 43rd President's library, tears of sadness ran down my face. I wondered how many foreign missiles would be aimed at Dallas once he came back and littered the place with his influence. I wondered about a lot of things... both good and bad.

Today, I focus on the good things, and I would hope that the George W. Bush Presidential Library would NOT overdo the good things. The truth should come out for all to see, and perhaps the Library could accomplish that by dedicating a floor to each "truth". You know, like the Katrina Disaster Floor... the Weapons of Mass Destruction Floor... the Economic Crisis Floor... and Floor 9/11. I will admit... he had it rough, and I'm not sure many of us could have done better. We clearly see the aging that has taken place on Bushy's face, and it's hard to see what accomplishments he achieved until you really dig into the historical war chest.

Probably the best thing I can commend him for is his attention to the AIDS epidemic in Africa. I am proud of his support in committing funds to that cause, although the one here in the US needs more attention, too. We will have to prod Obama on that. Nevertheless, this is the first and last time you'll ever see the following words from "The Black Man Next Door".

Good luck, Mr. President Bush, in all of your endeavors. You are definitely not my favorite, but the bottom line is, you have done a great service for this country. Hopefully in the future, you will admit your arrogance and make peace with the Americans that didn't like you -- and primarily because of that arrogance. In the meantime, welcome "home".... and don't park your entourage in my space.

What Would I Do With This Man? (Week 2)

Mmmm.. it's manly Monday again, and my mind shifts to my second installment of "What Would I Do With This Man?" Lots of goodies going on as I dream about being in a hypothetical tight spot with a celebrity male of my choosing. Tomorrow begins a new era for the United States of America, as George Bush lifts off in a helicopter and President Barack Obama settles into the driver's seat. Nevertheless, this historic moment is powerless to shift my attention from my next fantasy man.

Here I lie in my bed; off from work; staring at the ceiling with a broadening smile. Last week, in my hypothetical situation, I was stuck on Mt. Lindsay braving a snowstorm with sexy actor Jensen Ackles. It was a wonderful way to end a string of brutal graveyard shifts at work. But now, my brain is kicking into overdrive in order to deliver images of my next difficult situation, and I'm ready to respond with my celebrity companion of choice.

I can see it now -- water. Lots of water. The temperature is warm, and I can hear the sound of waves crashing up against the rocks nearby. The air carries the faint smell of fish and saltwater. I was lying on the sandy beach of some island, and I looked in all directions to see if there was anyone else. Ahhh, there was. About 100 yards away, there he was, shimmying up a tree to collect some tropical fruit. It was my fantasy celebrity man, clad with a tight, white t-shirt and nice-fitting distressed jeans.

I rose to my feet and began walking towards him when all of a sudden, dozens of natives emerged from the trees... adorned with war paint and armed with spears. My companion descended the tree with lightning speed and was standing side-by-side with me before I knew it. And who might this celebrity stud be? One of my personal favorites: Shemar Moore

Why Shemar? Mmm.. glad you asked. You see, a long time ago, back in the 90s, I started watching this guy on a popular soap opera known as The Young and the Restless. Shemar has mentioned that he hates playing roles that deviate from his actual personality, which is good... because one thing I didn't detect in his character was a quick temper.

In fact, in the world of gay dating, I believe that is a very good practice -- avoid deviating from your true self. Besides, I've learned from my past that I tend not to get along with hotheads, because I require something a bit more stable than a powder keg... especially in a tight spot like this.

Yes, indeed. Shemar would certainly do well in this situation. The fact that, like me, he doesn't really like guns reinforces my belief that if this stud was in backed into a corner, he'd at least have a clue how to start diffusing a problem before it gets out of control. He negotiates first, then uses his athleticism to go down fighting if he has to -- side-by-side with me. I'd certainly feel confident that if these island natives got violent, Shemar wouldn't tuck tail and run.

Once the issue is resolved, I'd be the first to taste his tropical fruits.

My First Interracial Relationship

In April 2002, I entered my first 'interracial' relationship with a younger guy in Louisiana. I have courted men of different ethnic backgrounds before, but never got as close with anyone as I did this man.

The first thing I thought about was whether people in my own race would think I'm some sort of sellout or something. In a weird way, at the time, I felt like one. I don't know where the 'obligation' to date someone with universal approval ever came from. All I knew is that my inner child connected with this guy, and I wanted to follow my heart.

Once I took the plunge, so many concerns ran through my head. The biggest demon to deal with was perception. I remember the weird looks when we'd go out on the town, and some of them cut like knives. Yeah... the fact that people can be both gay and racist never dawned on me until I endured my first 'interracial' relationship.

It was the first time for a lot of things with this guy. Getting to know each others families was one of the high notes, though daunting at first. It's amazing how people react to initial salutations for different reasons than you'd think. My Mom was more shocked at his height than the fact that he was White... or a man, for that matter. At the same time, I'm not sure how his parents really felt about me at first -- but after I mentioned that I don't like driving stick shifts, I felt like his father was testing me when he let me use his truck to help my man move one day... and yeah, it had a manual transmission. He tossed the keys and gently hit me in the chest with them before I caught them with my hand.

The look on his face... I'll never forget... it was like a gauntlet had been thrown down. Ugh, talk about pressure. The entire trip, all I could say to myself is please don't wreck this man's truck. If he were to ever become my father-in-law, I'd spend the rest of my life in a purgatory of sorts.

Anyway, for me, the most refreshing thing about being in an 'interracial' relationship is finding acceptance -- and I have been lucky to find that in nearly all cases. Nowadays, the weird looks and stupid, stereotypical questions don't even phase me. I guess it's one of the benefits of growing older. But one thing remains the same... and that's the anxiety of waiting to learn how the other guy's family will perceive me when we meet.

But at least now I understand that if it goes well, then that's great. If not, the fact still remains that we gay men/women can find comfort in defining and assembling our own "families". These families can offer still offer the love, support, and stability that we need in the face of adversity.

Nevertheless, it's our sole responsibility to nourish our own inner child because no one else knows it better... especially the people that flash the weird looks. Now, I have to mention that I certainly realize that some inner children are not colorblind, (which doesn't make that person a racist), but for those with a colorblind inner child, I must ask... whose approval do we really need to seek when we decide to date outside of our own ethnicity?

Calm After the Storm

You know, one of the weird things about plunging into Single life again is that some sort of past life starts creeping back on you. You spend so much time merged with someone else that you begin morphing into something else -- something hopefully better than when you entered the relationship. But once the storm of my last breakup passed, an eerie, almost unsettling calm descended upon me.

So, as 2009 heads into full steam, that's what I still feel right now -- and it's not necessarily bad. Yes, there's still the mixture of pain, angst, and residual love -- but I finally realized that someone else really needed me during this eerie calmness... and that person is... well, me. I started to pick up with things that I enjoyed doing before the relationship, and ultimately, spent more time pulling weeds from my own garden.

Here I am... self-pampered with hot bubble baths, candles, and I even shopped for 1 item as a "makeup present" to myself....two vests, a juicer, an annual gym membership, 4 dress shirts, and a messenger bag.... okay, that's like 9 gifts, but you get the picture. It's almost like reconciling a marriage to myself, but with fewer fights. (I think I'll start fighting politically for Self-Marriage rights...)

After reconciling my marriage to myself, I noticed myself doing things that the original Kevin loves to do -- working out/running, writing dual novels, hanging out with friends, and tending to needy family members. During this 'calm after the storm' phase, I really began to realize that I have a wonderful group of friends that seem to come out of the woodwork at random intervals; they surprise me with delicious chicken soup for my soul. Even my mother, whom I have enjoyed a much closer relationship with since coming out to her years ago, has shown a surprising level of support -- which is really cool.

But, the weirdest thing is .... well, people interested in you romantically seem to spring out of the ground like tulips ... showing off their colors and their ability to woo you into a quality flower bed. Refreshingly enough, I know these flowers are the real deal because they are the ones that are willing to wait until conditions are right before they really put on a show.

In the meantime, I'm embracing the calm after the storm and trying my best to let ill feelings settle into the ashes. Perhaps I'm caught in a cycle where hope and faith will prevail ... and subsequently make me a better person in the end.

The Stepping Stones

Aside from the usual banter, chants, and grumbles of the post-election atmosphere, one of the most disturbing thing to read about is how children have been compromised by the entire process. Not long ago, I read about 2nd and 3rd grade children chanting "Assassinate Obama" on a school bus in Idaho. How in the world do children so young even understand the concept and ramifications, much less even SPELL the word "assassinate"?

Yes, THAT word has reared its ugly head again... ejected from the mouths of this country's future... our children. It's a word that even to this day, I can't even fully grasp the concept of -- racism. Those friends and colleagues that grew up with me.. went through the Cedar Hill school system and to points beyond.. you remember watching the L.A. riots and witnessing the random coagulation of everyday African-Americans. Commoners turned feral and took to the streets along with members of the Blood & Crip-style gangs of old, terrorizing Caucasian citizens. One truck driver was dragged out of his car and beaten -- just to counter the perceived injustice of the Rodney King incident. Now, exactly how did things transgress from the 1960s peaceful marches of the Martin Luther King-ites to targeting Caucasians with fits of violence and ignorance in the late 1980s?

You remember the days following 9/11 where people of Middle-Eastern descent (or people who APPEARED to be) were the recipients of a horrific backlash as a result of extremist idiots who died in their act of stupidity, ignorance, and violence.

You remember the days where Hispanics were immediately thought to be illegal immigrants from Mexico with no car insurance.

And now? The focus has turned back to the nation's first Black president and those who voted for him. There seems to be an underlying theme to the madness -- a theme of stepping stones. We seek out those like us and then step on those who are not like us. We use them as stepping stones to buoy ourselves against the fear, rage, and sense of loss that terrorizes our own souls. The worst thing of all is that innocent children are caught in the crossfire and marred with irreparable damage for God knows how long.

Since when was the DC Sniper Caucasian? Remember the FBI running around, profiling the perpetrator to be some deranged, middle-aged White guy? Since when was the Oklahoma City bomber some Muslim guy on a mission to the destroy the United States of America? Since when was a college campus sprayed with the bullets of some gangsta Black guy? Our embrace of stepping stones failed us in these accounts... just ask the victims.

The idea to chew on is this: what happens when you've stepped on all of the stones, and there are no more left? What happens if everyone that is obviously different than you is eliminated from this Earth? Would it REALLY end? Or would we start delving into the more subtle differences and start the process all over again until there is one person left?

I believe these "stepping stones" are derivatives of something we collectively call "issues". We use issues to form wedges between groups of people who wouldn't care less if they weren't thrust into a national spotlight. We use "issues" to carve up our society into distinct groups, put them in paper bags, and let them rip each other to ribbons.

Seriously... how is Joe the Rancher in Nebraska personally affected if a woman in Washington has an abortion? How is Josephine the Hairdresser in Utah personally affected by two men who get married in Connecticut? How is Matt the Plumber in Alaska affected if Lady X in Florida smokes marijuana for medicinal purposes?

How can any "moral" cause be just if it turns two people or two groups of people against each other? We are poisoned by the stepping stones... and our children now drink from our hands...