Bad Batch

Dateline: August
Location: New York City
Storyline: Bad batch of Heroin kills 6 in the naked city.
First 2 young fresh faced on-their-way-to-life-and-success ladies, whose parents are now railing at the dealers for killing their girls. I sympathize with these parents who lost their young daughters. But how are you going to blame the dealers. Why don't people face the harsh music and ask - why were the girls using dope!!!??? Everyone wants to come down on the dealer, oh he shoulda been off the street, he shoulda this and that. Fact is; the gals woulda found somewhere to get the smack from, maybe it wouldn't have killed them but there was obviously something wrong, why were they using drugs? There was some other deep problem going on in these 2 lovely girls lives that it seems the parents don't want to face. Out crawling the streets, boozing, hanging with former drug dealers/ex-gang members, seems they knew what they were doing, needle marks everywhere, no innocent babes in the woods here folks. Now the police are rushing around and whops - 6 more people turn up dead all over from this batch laced with God only knows what. Why do we only rush to fix a problem after it becomes horribly apparent that everything has gone horribly wrong and why do we still demonize the dealer and never deal with the issues, issues that no one wants to face until things turn out really bad or until someones gets a bad dose.

Soft Sell

I went to church yesterday - church!!? You say yes, my car had a technical difficulty on 35th street and I decided to let it cool off and I went into St. Ignatius Episcopal/Anglican church. What a relief, no only was it a refuge from the searing heat outside but it was like a small oasis in the now new sea of jostling-for-you-attention churches in this big city. I just needed, calm peace and quiet and that is what I got. I didn't and don't need a sell or a call to the alter or a shout out or any kinda loud ass carrying on. Maybe its my personality or just a result of my personal history but I just don't want loud when I want to meditate with and on my creator. The sermon was "Confessions of an Ivy League Evangelical" and I was drawn in due to the fact that the theme of the lesson was posted outside. The priest he took the pulpit and quietly and methodically stated his views on evangelizing, his Christianity and really what Christianity meant and should mean, especially in these modern times when it seems to be gripped by an almost fanatical fervor. Jesus was about peace and spreading good will not like so many evangelicals who have an agenda and who have an almost maniacal desire to plant churches all over the world and convert and get more followers. All of that looses focus of what the faith is really about and that is spreading goodwill, peace and brotherly love among all who inhibit the planet. There was no choir singing lustily to the encouragement of a pastor urging them one more and then another on with that last verse. I tell you, I am woozy when I leave Pentecostal/Non-denominationally churches, after all the clanging and singing and clapping and alter calling and soundtrack drama to the service I just feel like I need to be somewhere quiet and hold my head. To me its all an elaborate "sell" and I don't like or trust a sell in most forms, especially when it tries not to look like a sell. And after an 1 1/2 hours, I'm mental wasted and detached anyway, by the time the sermon rolls in, I'm good and spent. I guess that's just me, when I club I want loud because I don't really want to think, I just want to dance, praying and meditating, another story, I need peace and quiet please and enough of the "sell" just speak, eventually people who give damn and who're really genuine will listen.

The Anatomy of a Drug Deal

Drug deals come in many forms and fashions and the drug of choice can be myriad of things. Today as I walked home I saw something that reminded me of the many drug deals I used to see go down when I lived uptown in Harlem. They were more often smooth, calculated and executed with speed and an expert slight of hand. The buyer was usually too happy or excited at the prospects of getting lifted or short on change and begging; at which point the dealer had to get crusty. The drugs were usually ferried to the buyer by any number of people who would just show up on the scene and sometimes the drug of choice was extracted from up under the wheel of some ususpecting person's car, or maybe they were suspect themselves. It was sly, sharp and quiet; but I would manage to catch all of the transaction. The buyer was soon off with the quickness, with high spirits and the dealer retreated to an assumed "just-hanging-out" pose, looking left and right. Then there are drug deals that aren't so apparent, like the drug deals made with doctors every day by drug reps who convince, guide and bribe weak doctors to prescribe, or give drugs that you think you need and more likely, that you don't need. Drugs that some of the populace might not have the guts to make the trip to Harlem to seek. These are the sophisticated drug deals, not made in the streets but at fancy restaurants, spas, lush vacations and they usually catch a larger web of buyers. And these drugs; more expensive and sometimes a little more potent. This system of doing business has made us into a society of pill poppers. Everyone is on something for what ever ill the drug makers have trumped up to fix. Because at the end of the day, drug companies are public and have to answer to their shareholders so sell sell sell, hawk, hawk, hawk and they send out their hand to hand combat dealers, the drug reps to ply the drugs to the eager doctors and sometimes desperate patients. Feeling down, dark and depressed, hey Zoloft or Cocaine, both should do the trick but which drug deal do you prefer?

Being Bobby or Whitney's Demise

Ok the newest reality spectacle is Being Bobby Brown. Or as I like to call it, Looking into the Demise of Whitney Houston - her long day's journey into a strange and wild night. I've to say that since I've started watching I cannot stop, it has become a Thursday night guilty pleasure for my husband and I. Bobby romps and eats and goes to court and storms Harrods, lives in Hotels, gyrates on his wife and embarrasses his children. Bobby is totally wild and the reason we watch is not really Bobby or what really happened to him but Whitney - what happened to her???? Whitney once the creme de la creme of R&B hit society is now reduced to campy ghettoish drugish like behavior. She blurts out a song or 2, singing here and there, smoking way too much for the singer we know her to be. And of course poor Bobbi Christina who seems to be more of a parent than a child to her 2 wayward parents as they come undone and get totally out of control. Bobby interacts and overacts with all and sundry; stars, has beens, strangers, owners of exclusive dept. stores you name it he's out there like a presidential candidate. Bobby Brown, the playa president, Mr. R&B himself - or so his wife thinks that he is. As I sit in utter shock I wonder first, where is all this money coming from and what really do they now do, I mean do they work? But even more profound is Whitney - what a fall from grace, that's really why we tune in, to see her and it is her behavior that keeps us glued and in awe.

'Roids

Steroids - 'nuff said, what can I say about 'em. Here's where I stand on the whole baseball/steroid/government use issue, the government should stay the hell out of it and let the sport police itself. And who cares, I say mind your own damned biz when it comes to who uses, who takes what and when and how. Gimme a break, with the kids, every thing out there is damned near illicit. Face it, people go to these arenas to see super humans, humans who aren't the norm, humans who don't live like them or look like them, no one comes to the park to see the guys that they could see in the neighborhood play - we want to see superhumans, superhuman bodies and superhuman strength. I for one think that everyone should mind their own business. What the hell is Congress doing getting involved in who uses 'roids or not and now we've got Mr. Palmeiri Mr. Fingerpointer himself, testing positive and reneging saying he didn't "intentionally" use the drugs - you didn't intentionally - what the fuck, gimme a friggin' break, then how did you unintentionally do this. Did you fall into a steroid pond, or was it that you tripped on the steroind sidewalk! We pump women full of steroids called contraceptives sending them crazy and shit and we don't want men to take a few, screw that, I say take the shit 'til your heads pop off, cause at the end of the day who's biz is it anyway, your f**king own!