Gratitude

You guys...man. I can't even find the words right now. I am so thankful. I am sooo very grateful. I've read all of the comments to that last post and I cried and cried and smiled and cried some more, and laughed and nodded my head, and felt the embraces and absorbed every WORD. EVERY SINGLE WORD. Words can heal. Words can heal and soothe and try to help you understand. They can. I'm a believer. From the bottom of my soul, thank you. I might be rambling, but I don't think ya'll really understand how your comments have helped me get through the last 24 hours. Honestly. Someone posted a comment saying how amazing it is, to be able to click on the computer and read someone's words and life, and actually feel them. That is amazing, and for that I'm also grateful. It's an honor. To be able to share an experience with another. I KNOW I am NOT ALONE. Thank you to those who sent me private messages, too. For those who were just passing through, and felt compelled to offer me words of encouragement. I'm overwhelmed by it all. Thank you for keeping me close, and in your prayers. Please don't stop. My heart is heavy and I'm trying to work some stuff out. But for now, be blessed. And pick up the phone, send an email, call your peeps, do whatever, and just let 'em know that you love them. I'll go first: Love ya'll.

jamal

PS - West Coast Blogger nite is still happenin'. I don't know why the hell ya'll trying to cancel, when you know I really need my peeps around and a double martini...(smile) We'll toast to Karen.

Conversation with God

"everyone who loses somebody

wants revenge on somebody....

on God if they can't find anyone else"

It happened again. Once again, during one of those precious moments when I was smiling and looking the other way. Death pushed through my door again, demanding to have another talk. Again.

I lost a friend last night. A dear sisterfriend. We were the same age. We entered womanhood together. Our paralleled lives. We were each other’s witness. Getting grown. Partying. Falling in love. Marriage, pregnancies, baby showers, births, housewarmings. We had big-girl dreams. We co-signed each others wins and losses, dreams& struggles, disappointments & triumphs. Our children are the same age. I named her daughter. Our boys ran ball together. Our girls braided each other’s hair. And today I’m here. And she’s not. She was thirty-six years old. I’m thirty-six years old. I didn’t sleep last night. The old ritual is back. Hello again. Lie in bed. Stare into the darkness. Turn on tv, turn off tv. Contemplate picking up the phone. My words are strangled. Walk into kitchen. Stand barefoot on the cold tile, try to force myself to eat or drink something. Can’t. I feel sick. I want to throw up my life. Run to bathroom. Stand over sink. Wait. Think. Try to feel. Look at myself in mirror. Debate on the sleeping pills I’ve worked so hard to kick. Out of Xanax. That shit makes me too loopy anyway. The sake I drank earlier has worn off. Keep staring. Thinking. Did she know she was about to die? God, was she in pain? Was she scared? We didn't keep our last phone date. (girl, so much so much! we gotta catch up!) What about her babies? No. Don't think. Don't think. Legs are weary. Down to the floor. Sit. Alone, barefoot on the bathroom floor.Think. Think and cry, cry and try to remember to breathe. What the fuck is this. What the fuck is all this supposed to mean. I just can’t figure it out. It’s the worst habit of mine, always trying to analyze & intellectualize, if I could just figure it out if I can just get it to make sense it’ll be ok. Nothing.

Nothing makes sense. Right now. Nothing does.

Ealier tonight, I realized a material dream (finally bought a new car), and I was planning a weekend of fun with friends, while my sisterfriend was in a hospital flatlining and no one told me because she was there for something routine and figured she’d be out in a few days. I want my mommy. She’s not here. Dead too. How long have I been on the floor. Crawl back to bed. Legs are tired. Soul is tired. Turn on the tv, turn it off, repeat. It’s back. The ritual. Heartache, confusion, sleeplessness. It’s all back.

I find it tragically sweet. No one wanted to tell me. They waited an entire day, debating on who should break the news, when, how. One person was to call, then it was handed to another. No one could bring themselves to do it. I can imagine the conversation. I’ve heard of them before. Conversations about me, full of worry and love and helplessness and concern. She seems okay, lately. Grief counseling seems to have helped. At least she’s writing again. Let’s not bother her with this or that; the constant coddling of my fragile state of being. It is a depth of love I’ve only recently become familiar. I feel sorry for them, really. I don’t know how to help them help me. I hate to hear them struggle for words or watch them cry because they think they’re losing me. I get happy, they see me planning new moves and speaking of the future, and they would push me in a protective bubble if they could, god I know they would if they could, they know I’m teetering, on the verge as someone would say, and they just hate to have to say it, but they must, and they did. Jamal, Karen died yesterday. I’m so sorry. We’re so sorry. Please don’t go away.

And I think. Remember. Again. When they found my sister’s bones on that army base, I got a phone call. I was at work. It was from a reporter, and I picked up the phone and said hello and the voice on the other end said how do you feel now, she’s been missing for three months and how do you feel now that your sister’s remains have been recovered can we get a statement from you or the family, and I got up from my desk and held my cellie in my hand and said what are you talking about, what are you talking about, and I walked outside because I didn’t know where else to go, and the voice said they found her your sister her bones your sister it’s her they found her remains in a ditch, how do you feel now, and I could hear him talking but nothing made sense, I no longer understood english I did not know where I was, I was an alien in my own body, my cheek was suddenly against pavement I felt gravel on my face, and I was alone and no one knew where I was or what was happening. my sisters bones were found 2000 miles away in some Georgia ditch and I realized that I had collapsed, was face to concrete alone in the parking lot, must’ve walked there in a daze, nobody knew where I was and to this day, I still don’t know how long I lay there on the ground, out cold between parked cars, and somehow I got myself up and walked back toward a life that would never be the same again. Never.

And when I started talking to god again I said how could you do that, how come I fell and there was no one there to catch me, what the fuck was the purpose of that, why would you let that man call me like that? because I was alone, so alone in that moment, no one was there not even you, you just watched me fall, you just let it all happen, my mommy is dead and exactly one year later my pregnant sister is murdered and now in a ditch and I'm left here without either of them, and I really need to know what was the purpose, what divine insight into life was I suppose to grasp, lying there that day, face to concrete, so whenever you’re ready I’ll listen because I think you really fucking owe me an explanation for that, and now today I think:

When I got that phone call last night, I was at home, in the company of a loving friend, had just received a soulhug and a loving note from afar (thank you again: it was perfect), and I was already sitting down when the call came, and so maybe, since I wasn’t alone and face down in a parking lot this time, maybe this was your way of saying, all right, I don't have any answers for you, but guess I owed you one. Maybe, maybe that's it.

i am hurting, but i am okay, blogger fam. writing heals all wounds. this blog is and continues to be my delicate hold on sanity. i just need a minute. came into work, but i'm going back home for the day. we'll talk real soon.

love, jamal.

Supa's Spotlight

On spotlight again this week - here's Dory!! (Back by popular demand)

Truisms………..of a humanistic ……..nature..


1. sad but true, most spouses on a good day are still never as freaky as your ex-boyfriend or girlfriend.

2. if u put michael jordan on the clippers, would he still be mj or would he have been terry dehere or bo kimble u remember, hank gathers teammate/friend? just wondering?

3. wwf wrestling is fake, the wrestling done behind the trailer park that u see at blockbuster on video is not!

4. whenever a really horrible crime is committed by someone and the person isn’t a minority. u can best believe the media will give some analytical, psychological mumbo-jumbo reason for the act. never something like jeffrey dahmer liked eating n----- cause there were no good soul food places in town and because n----- taste like (biscuits, sweet potato pie, fried chicken, dressing, pork chops and watermelon all rolled into one.). or he tried eating crackers but they tasted too plain. (like rice cakes without salt). no, they’ll say something like it was because he lacked a certain enzyme in his brain that made him crave melanin with his eggs and toast.

5. every rich man, every rich man wants a "yes" wife! i know that sounds horrible to true feminists, but that’s a fact. true as cotton growing in the south. the only other acceptable word other than yes, that a rich man’s wife can use is "okay." which may imply agreement but denotes it less fully. i mean in the name of b.b. king, he’s paying the cost to be the boss! and for every female arguing out there right now about no man being the boss of her. And how important her freedom is to her, and that its priceless, yeah, yeah whatever say it with me he’s worth billions and billions of $$$ and he picked yo monkey a--, believe me when I say he wants u to go with the program. He’s not going to ask for much its not like u have to see him all the time maybe 10 times a month,(he’s usually working all over the nation/globe), u’ve got maids, butlers, chefs, gardeners, a 5 million dollar a month spending allowance, 12 cars, a 4000 sq ft. walk in closet in your main house and about a dozen homes scattered over the planet. what’s your reason for saying no to this again? This life or ….being true to women’s right and freedom? my money is on most women taking this life. if she doesn’t want it her girlfriend will scratch her eyes out to get it ….best believe.

That’s why I know that movie coming to america was b-s, ….no rich African king wants a young high maintenance African American woman. I’m wrong? Name an African king that supports your theory. ? call me when u come up with the name. He’d want her to be down for him having 10 more wives, and another 20-30 concubines. That’s why there was no part two, cause the movie made a grip of money. This is the movie if there had been a part two…..bear with me

(African voice) “Now that black American woman #&^$^*@! Took me for half my country.
and money…no more zamunda…she took half the name too…she took the zam and left me with …….unda….no good #@@*@^!)^%@$!? b----!)

6. why is it girlfriends generally act more like wives……while wives generally act like girlfriends. If u were an alien visiting this planet u would think the girlfriends are the more serious relationship of the two. A girlfriend will lend u two hundred dollars, a wife will lend u some advice, don’t forget yo wallet!!!

7. thugs, everybody and their mama wants to be a thug these days. There are very few real thugs like the rap songs speak about in america. Let me rephrase that- there are different levels of thugs, your true to the core thugs don’t live in America. U want a true thug talk to someone that speaks that hak-bar-ak-bar u, hear more that two haks, something is about to explode and someone is about to die. Or go to Africa, I watched those guerrilla fighters man they will kill u with yo mama standing by and with a news camera at the scene rolling. U can’t find a thug in America that will kill u with a news team right there. Not Africa, they have thugs that made the top ten list of all time thugs….like idi amin, now he was a thug. He killed his babies mama’s and showed the kids their mothers’ bodies after they were cut to pieces. Talk about not having any problems with yo kids , idi had no problems with those kids! since I’m telling this joke - that nigga is dead, right? I might have to google a death certificate …before telling this again.

Dory can be contacted at www.ewestmedia.net or dmice88@yahoo.com

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Note: Supa thought she'd give Dory the floor today, 'cause the thought of blogging about Scary Terry, the Down Low Brothas, Negroes.Crackas (Black.White), the media all up in Autum's shiznit, or the plight of the black man just made her head hurt...(check out these Blogger peeps' links on these topics)

Feedback, black people!

Happy Wednesday!!!

Stanford U's Pledge to Low-Income Students

How'd I miss this?

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STANFORD, California (AP) -- Hoping to encourage students scared by rising higher education costs, Stanford University is eliminating tuition for undergraduates from some of the lowest-income families.

Under a new program announced Wednesday, students from families with annual incomes of less than $45,000 will not pay tuition. Those with incomes up to $60,000 will pay about $3,800, the school estimates.

Stanford's undergraduate tuition for the next school year will be nearly $33,000. Add in other expenses, such as books and housing, and the cost averages about $47,000.

"Students from low-income backgrounds are underrepresented at our nation's most selective institutions," said Richard Shaw, Stanford's dean of undergraduate admission and financial aid.
"Many families ... may be discouraged by the stated tuition, so we want to be more forceful with this new program in encouraging talented low-income students to consider Stanford," he said.

at CNN.com: click here for entire article.

Inside Man..

Denzel....and CLIVE....and SPIKE did their thizzle this weekend! Pulled down $29 Mil..the biggest opening ever for Spike or Den-weezie...

Looking good, Mr. Washington...

And damn, you too Clive, with yo' dashing white-boy thuggish ass!!!

They can be my "Inside Men" anytime.....hey Denzel, hey Clive...call me...

Pooch Update

So hey, Blogger Fam!! Supa's glad to report, that Sassy is on the mend. Her x-rays aren't till this weekend, but she's been taking her meds without much of a hassle, and has been enjoying her stress-free lifestyle of eating, shitting, and lounging in her bed while watching Animal Planet, while Supa goes out and brings home them Doggie Chow dollas.

(pic of Pooch, plotting her next move)

And before ya'll ask, yes, I leave the t.v. on for her, on a channel which I think is most suitable to her mental health and enjoyment. I don't leave it on CNN or Tyra anymore. Upsets her mood, I've noticed. Starts humping her toy more than usual. Stress, I guess...

So yeah, my stress levels have been kinda high, trying to keep her from jumping off furniture, carrying her to and fro, and making sure she doesn't go chasing those stray cats down the street when she goes outside to take a shit. She's got some kind of wack-ass turf war going on with these alley cats that hang out in our back yard. And I'm saying - I try to school her, tell her real calm-like that those cats'll smooth fuck her up; they 'aint the type to be messed with. I mean, they're like twice her size, and I've seen 'em in action, they kinda gully. But I keep forgetting, even though Sassy's all diva-fied & pampered nowadays, underneath it all, she's still from the streets. You can't take it out of 'em. ('aint that right, Alexa??)

(The Pooch, demanding a tummy rub)

So meanwhile, Supa's been trying to quell the intra-species beef going down around her pad. 'Cause you know, stop the violence, we all from the same gang, peace on the streets, and all that jazz....




I know, I know.

Sassy be punkin' me, big time. But just look into those eyes and try to stay hardcore. Feel me??

Signing off,

Supa
"Sassy's Bitch"

Gone Shopping...

Must. Have. Shoes!!

Gracias, Cesar!

So Supa went about her usual Sunday tasks: Laundry, straightening about the house, grocery shopping, meal preparation...you know, all that exciting domestic shit...

And much later in the eve, after being disappointed by the new Soprano's episode, yet again - Supa calmed herself with a nice batch of sugar cookies, and an 11:00 pm viewing of a Sex in the City rerun, before setting her dreaded alarm clock...

But...wait... while glancing at the news, Supa caught sight of a large crowd in downtown Los Angeles..seems hoards of people were celebrating Cesar Chavez' birthday, and....hold the fuck up...Cesar Chavez is a paid holiday for us hard-working civil servants!!!! I TOTALLY forgot!!!

Hey, yo - THANKS Cesar!!!!! Sheeit, is it too late to go out for dranks??? Supa 'bout to see what's crackalackin'!! I'll catch ya'll WORKING FOLKS lata!! Oh, lovely day!!! SUPA 'AINT GOT TA GET UP IN THE MORNING!!!!!!!!!!!

Realities/Myths of the Moody Artist

* pic of Supa's mantra, hanging in her writing room

A member of my writing crew sent me this article; we're both women writers who struggle with the side-effects of a "creative personality" i.e. - an almost obsessive need for solitude, rampant moodiness, ultra-analytical & reflective natures, and other various frustrating personality traits which arise when our creative processes are hampered by the intrusion(s) of everyday life. This is something I've struggled with my entire life, and being an artist, and an empath, has truly made my journey even that much more challenging...At any rate, this article is quite interesting, I'd like to get your views & feedback of you other artists (particularly writers) out there....besides - ya'll already know I'm crazy. But not as crazy as our boy "Twisted Genius" from the Writing Crew.......Read on!

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Creativity and Depression: Is There a Link?
by Amy Scholten, MPH


The mad genius, the tormented artist, the melancholy poet. History is filled with writers, poets, artists, musicians, composers, and other creative people who wrestled with mood disorders. A list of just some of them would include Dickinson, Poe, Emerson, Dickens, Faulkner, Hemingway, Melville, Tolstoy, O'Keefe, Gaugin, Michelangelo, Van Gogh, Rachmaninoff, Schumann, and Tchaikovsky. But is this portrayal just a stereotype, or is there really a link between creativity and depression?

Prevalence of Mood Disorders in Creative People
This question haunted Arnold M. Ludwig, a researcher at the University of Kentucky Medical Center. He embarked on a 10-year study of 1004 men and women who were prominent in a variety of professions, including art, music, science, business, politics, and sports. Ludwig found that between 59 and 77 percent of the artists, writers, and musicians suffered mental illness (particularly mood disorders) compared to just 18 to 29 percent in the less artistic professionals.

Most studies on this subject have consistently shown higher rates of mood disorders in creative people, differing only in the magnitude of the results. Are creative people destined to experience depression or bipolar disorder? Or does having a mental illness make people more creative? Kay Redfield Jamison, professor of psychiatry at Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, addresses these questions in her book, Touched with Fire, and notes that most creative people do not suffer from recurring mood swings. In fact, the majority of people suffering from depression and bipolar disorder do not have extraordinary imaginations. "To assume that such diseases usually promote artistic talent wrongly reinforces simplistic notions of the 'mad genius," she writes.

Unraveling the Mystery
Why is it, then, that such a high percentage of creative people suffer from depression and bipolar disorder? Do these diseases enhance creativity in certain people or do characteristics of the creative mind render one more vulnerable to these diseases? The answers to these questions are uncertain, but a number of theories have been proposed.

Mania and the Creative Process
The manic phase of bipolar disorder is characterized by emotions and behaviors that parallel the creative process. These include:

Original thinking
Heightened sensitivity
Increased drive and productivity
Increased fluency, fluidity, and frequency of thoughts
Tendency to use rhymes, idiosyncratics, and alliteration
Sharp focus
Intensity
Ability to function on limited sleep
Increased quality and quantity of word usage

In certain people with bipolar disorder, these manic characteristics will enhance creativity. In contrast, the depressive phase of bipolar disorder is characterized by introspection, rumination, and intense pain—something that can add depth and meaning to creative work. This may partially explain the profound creativity seen in many people with bipolar disorder.

The Social Challenges of Being Creative
One theory suggests that many creatively gifted individuals may suffer from depression as a result of being in environments that don't support their creativity. In her book, The Woman's Book of Creativity, C. Diane Ealy, PhD writes, "Many studies have shown us that a young girl's ideas are frequently discounted by her peers and teachers. In response, she stifles her creativity.” Other experts agree that suppressed and misunderstood creativity can lead to severe neurotic and psychotic behavior, addictions, unhealthy relationships, concealment of abilities, hopelessness, and depression.

Gifted and talented people are often divergent thinkers who have unusual, original, and creative perception and elaborate fantasies. They may disagree with authority, invest in their own interests, and express unpopular views. This can present social challenges, particularly for girls and women, as a result of a cultural expectation to conform. Gifted and talented people generally receive little acceptance for their unique selves, and may have poor self-esteem and difficulty trusting people. This situation can lead to feelings of isolation and frequent bouts of depression.

Gifted and talented adults are driven to express their inner creativity but may be hindered by self-criticism, self-doubt, and feelings of inferiority, says Mary Rocamora who heads a school in Los Angeles for gifted and talented adults. When this happens, frustration can turn into hopelessness and depression.

Finally, creative individuals, such as writers and artists, often spend long hours working in solitude. When faced with various stressors they may not have as much social support as those who work among other people. This may result in increased stress, feelings of isolation, and depression. For this reason, it's helpful for creative people to develop outside interests that involve socializing, especially if their work is solitary.

For entire article and other recources, click here.

The Art of the Polite Diss

So there Supa was, strolling Leimert Park on a Sunday afternoon, minding her own while shopping for oils & incense, books, and some good old fashioned sustenance. (grub) She walks into the new Jamaican restaurant and browses the menu, eagerly hoping to roll up on some tasty curry chicken, veggies n rice, or even some bomb ass spinach patties, and possibly even some Ting. Suddenly, Supa notices a large figure approaching from her left. *sigh* It's a dude.

So, dude approaches. Engages Supa in polite enough banter. Nice weather, you lookin' nice today, have you eaten here before, blabbity blah. Brotha was all gentleman. Polite, decent convo, didn't rush into any wack lines, etc. So, Supa's chattin' with bruh, waiting for her food. Brotha then ups his game and offers, "So hey, I'm from outta town (Miami) and just rollin' through on business (legal/illegal? hmmm..), where's a nice spot to, you know, hang out and chill...with a sista like you?"

Okay. First of all, Supa knows of plenty of spots to hang out and chill, none of which would be the types of joints in which this brotha could make an appearance and not look like a clown. Oh, maybe this is where I should interject that his mouth looked like this.
And he was rockin' one of them "midget" type medallions Luda be talkin' bout. Not Supa's type, but you're throwing the dice if you actually say that type of stuff.

So, this is where we come to "The Art of the Polite Diss." Contrary to popular opinion, there is a science to this shit. If you're on your A game, one knows she must not haphazardly throw out a garden-variety diss; one must use her creativity, and tailor diss to match the current situation/subject. Failure to do so can result in some pretty testy situations. Some brothas got them things called fragile egos, and much prefer for them to not get cracked..

So in this instance, taking into account said Grillz' general demeanor, Supa gave him the casual "thanks, but I'm married" polite diss, offered the names of hangouts Supa thought he might enjoy, and the whole interaction de-escalated itself with no further questioning, harrassment, bruised egos, curse words, police reports, etc. Lovely.

Not always the case. Here are samples of polite disses I've accumulated over the years, and the responses given when a brotha just doesn't take the hint:

Polite Diss #1: I'm married/engaged/got a man.
Retort: So? I'm married/engaged/got a woman, too. Can't we be friends? or I don't care, I can be your side man...

Polite Diss #2: I'm only into girls.
Retort: Oohh shit. How can I be down? or You into girls? Me too!

Polite Diss #3: I just found out I'm pregnant. With twins.
Retort: So? I'll take care of you and yo' kids.

Polite Diss #4: I'm single and have six kids and don't really have time to date.
Retort: So? I can come over and get to know you after you put them kids to bed.

Polite Diss#5: I had a bad experience, and I don't fuck around with gangstas/thugs/ballers/players/Belizeans/rappers/industry cats/(insert whatever dude looks like he might be here)
Retort: I'm not like any of them other cats you fucked around with.

Polite Diss#6: I'm on my way to prison in a few weeks, and I'm using this time to get my business in order.
Retort: Word? Well, where you gonna be on lock? A n*gga can write you....

Polite Diss#7: I'm on parole for bustin' four caps in my last man's chest.
Retort: Yeah, I like you gangsta broads!

Polite Diss#8: My therapist doesn't think I'm ready for a new relationship. She upped my meds while I'm trying to deal with my issues with men.
Retort: That's why you need a brotha like me..

Polite Diss#9: I just got my orders and I'm on my way to Iraq.
Retort: So, we should really hook up before you go..

Polite Diss#10: I'm celibate.
Retort: Word? I can help you with that.. or You celibate? How much you sell it for?

One time, Supa unfurled damn near her entire repertoire, while involved in a hilarous back-and-forth game of "polite disses and retorts" with a brotha who matched her silliness and twisted sense of humor.

See. Who said gettin' dissed can't be fun....

On The Random Tip...

Supa still has not received a coherent answer/explanation for what exactly this vibrating ring thingie is/does!!

Anyone? Anyone?

Supa can't seem to figure it out on her own. And she really hates when that happens....


Holla atcha girl.

Tuesday Tidbits..

Terrance "Tom" Howard speaks:

Cameras provided a glimpse of Terrence Howard applauding when Three 6 Mafia took home an Oscar at the Academy Awards, but he was just fronting for cameras and he wasn’t too happy with the Memphis-bred crew’s performance.“Just seeing the way they performed, it kind of broke my heart though,” Howard conceded to AOL Black Voices, weeks after Three 6 performed “It’s Hard Out Here For a Pimp,” from the same Hustle & Flow movie he starred in. “Not the way Three 6 Mafia did it, but everything I tried to escape in my portrayal of that role (wtf?), it seems that they went right to the stereotype that I wanted to assassinate. The people who had choreographed it apparently hadn’t seen the film.”Howard told AOL Black Voices that he was surprised Three 6 was able to beat out its competition for the Oscar.“It’s Hard Out Here For a Pimp,” Howard laughed. “No honestly, I was very surprised. I was extremely surprised! I thought ‘In the Deep’ would win from Crash.” courtesy of Playahata.com

Supa on Flic Watch: V for Vendetta
Starring: Natalie Portman, Hugo Weaving, Stephen Rea, Stephen Fry, John Hurt

Directed by James McTeigue

Produced by Joel Silver, Andy Wachowski, Larry Wachowski

Written by: Andy Wachowski and Larry Wachowski (screenplay) Dave Gibbons (II) and Alan Moore (Source Material from graphic novel: "'V' is for Vendetta")

Distributed by Warner Bros.

Release Date: March 17th, 2006

Synopsis: Set against the futuristic landscape of totalitarian Britain, the story of a mild-mannered young woman named Evey who is rescued from a life-and-death situation by a masked vigilante known only as "V." Incomparably charismatic and ferociously skilled in the art of combat and deception, V urges his fellow citizens to rise up against tyranny and oppression. As Evey uncovers the truth about V's mysterious background, she also discovers the truth about herself--and emerges as his unlikely ally in the culmination of his plot to bring freedom and justice back to a society fraught with cruelty and corruption.

At least inspired by the general source material, the story line is set in approximately 2018 in an Orwellian and totalitarian Britain, which terrorizes its’ citizens, criminalizes descent, and routinely lies to it’s people via TV news programs. In the Wachowski update, England is an ultra-religious, Islam-Hating, fear-mongering, gay-bashing, police state ruled by Chancellor Sutler (John Hurt) who convinces the people to relinquish their personal freedoms in exchange for being protected from biological weapons of mass destruction and terrorism - any of this sound at least a little familiar? The news station has its own Bill O'Reilly/Shawn Hannity/Rush Limbaugh figure in the blowhard Prothero, and chancellor Sutler has somewhat of a Dick Cheney in the character known only as Creedy. As for the U.S., the “news” reports that the United States is “the world’s largest leper colony” as it falling apart in the midst of a 2nd civil war; Prothero the only pundit who seems to matter, attributes Britain not (yet) having suffered the same fate to their faith in “God”.

In 2018 Britain it seems you’re as likely to get assaulted by the government police, as you are to be helped by them, which is where our story’s “hero”, V (Hugo Weaving a.k.a. “Agent Smith” from Matrix fame), enters. V rescues Evey (Natalie Portman) from sexual assault (and who knows what else) by government police, then becomes linked to V’s massive acts of property destruction, and a government target herself. She eventually becomes V’s closest confidante and sidekick but not without some seemingly depraved manipulation on the part of V....click here for full review.

And finally....on to some fluff. Some mini-stars..
"Mini" Jay & B

"Mini" Kelis (no resemblance really, but ok)

Anyway. Supa thought these shorties were mad cute. I had more, but Blogger be trrrriiiippppinnn'. Blogger: if you was a man, I'd quit ya. On behalf of all my peep's blogs that are jacked up - GET IT TOGETHER!!

Happy Tuesday, Blogger Fam!!

R.I.P. Professor X

photo courtesy of Nah Right

Go here for a Professor X tribute.

Article on All Hip-Hop

Sassy Runs the Supa Pad...

*Disclaimer: If you aren’t an “animal person” and don’t have a frame of reference and/or basic tolerance for people and their “pet dramas,” I’m advising you, move on to another post. SingleMa and Cocoa, I know you'll stay with me.

Okay. This is Sassy aka the Pooch. (posted up by the fridge, as usual)

She’s your ordinary lovable ultra pampered spoiled urban house canine. A real cutie-brat. (nickname given by Free)

So. For the last few days, Sassy hasn’t been her usual hyperactive demanding self. She’s been eating and shitting all right, but she hasn’t been running around like usual, nosing her way into everyone’s business and begging for my and the RR’s food – so, that’s when I knew something was amiss. Then, Friday night, she started to whimper when I went to pick her up, totally rebuffed my attempt to rub her tummy, and instead coiled into a little ball - so I knew right then, I’d be taking her to see the Pooch Doctor first thing Saturday morning.

Saturday morning: Dropped off the Pooch for her exam with the Pooch Doc, then jetted off to yoga. As I walk into class, vet calls. Says: “Ms. SS, I’ve examined Sassy, and can’t find anything wrong – she doesn’t have a fever, yadda yadda, she’s a tad overweight, but she looks healthy.” Hmmmm…… Then, I verbally submit that I know something’s wrong due to her strange behavior, and so the Pooch Doc suggests that he’ll take some x-rays and run some blood panels just to be sure. Yeah. Okay.

So right then I had it in my mind that Sassy’s a big FAKER, and simply got pissed because the last two weeks Supa’s either been runnin’ the streets, writing, yucking it up on the phone a lil’ more than usual, or retiring to bed early without taking their evening walk – and she just needed some attention. And she was willing to make Supa drop some chedda at the vet to get her point across. Hmmm…

So, into yoga class. While sitting in Sukhasana, my aunt inquires about the impending Sassy drama. “Vet just called,” I say. “’Aint nothing wrong with Sassy. I’ma spank her when I get home…” We both laugh, then proceed to huff and puff (I mean, breeaathhe) our way through the rest of class.

Finish and exit yoga. Check voicemail. Pooch Doc called to say: “Well, Ms. SS, seems that Sassy has a slipped disc (L2) in her back, and we’ll need you to…..”

“Awwwww lawd nooooo not my baby lawwdd noooooooo….!!!!” (Supa actin’ a fool on a busy urban avenue, while listening to message and walking back to her car) “Ooohh my poor baby!” I start to tear up (okay, cry), seriously. Then immediately start to guilt trippin’..... thinking that the Pooch was just faking for attention….thinking about how many times I’ve let her slightly pudgy ass JUMP off my high ass bed, all the while scoffing at the notion of purchasing her some doggy stairs….thinking about how I’ve ruined her diet by allowing her to sit up and munch sugar cookies with me as a late night snack, etc…

So. Race up to the vet’s office. Meanwhile, call The Girl, whine and tell her what’s going down so she can guilt trip me more about the whole deal. (Mommy, nooo! What did you do?!?) Walk into office, confer with Pooch Doc. Yes, he advises, she probably cracked her back by jumping off the bed (guilt), and it didn’t help matters that she could stand to lose a few pounds (guilt guilt), and how she’s a little doggie and can’t withstand a lot of weight on her legs (ready to slit my wrist), and how she has to take this expensive medicine and refrain from physical activity for two weeks so she can heal and hopefully avoid having to have surgery. Oh, and pay that ridiculous ass bill on the way out. Yeah.

And so I ask – whaddaya mean, refrain from physical activity? Sassy likes to run, and jump, and slide around, and dry-hump her favorite stuffed animal at regular intervals throughout the day.


(pic of Sassy's favorite "toy." She be humpin' the shit outta this bad boy)



So like, how am I supposed to keep her from doing all that? Do your best, he advises. Confine her, watch her every move, do what you can. Or – the dreaded surgery. Oh yeah, and and pay that bill on the way out.

SO. For the past twenty-four hours, Sassy Pooch has been diva numero uno up in this piece. Between me and the RR’s, she’s been carried, rubbed, fed, and hawked over at every conceivable turn. I bought her gourmet dinners and meaty bones and a nice baby blanket to curl up on. Calls are coming in; the info has now spread through the family tree. The Girl suggested I take some time off work in order to look after her properly – and of course, she’d have to skip school, too. The Boy said, “See, told ya’ll she was getting too fat. ” Shut up. Everyone, just shut up. I’m dancing as fast as I can. The whole ordeal forced me to go shopping yesterday afternoon…

And last night, I had this crazy dream.. I was touring somewhere in Africa, Tanzania if I remember correctly, with a group of artistic folk on some kind of cultural exchange program. We were scheduled to read poetry at some celebration ceremony or something. Everyone was dressed in authentic regionally appropriate gear, except me – I had on my 4 inch Aldo Italian leather wedgies, some tight ass capri jeans, and my bright orange “crack is wack” t-shirt. What the fuck. I was pissed. For some reason, nobody cared. They just wanted me to read some poetry piece about “Ode to Beyonce” and had a blonde wig for me to wear while doing so. I absolutely fucking refused. There was chaos, arguments going down.

I jumped up outta my dream with a start – to find Sassy’s ass in my face, her fur obstructing the areas vital for the intake of oxygen to the brain. Apparently, she was mad because I fell asleep and stopped rubbing her belly for all of maybe, twenty minutes.

It’s a wonderful life at the Supa Sassy Pad.

Don’t laugh. Stay tuned…..

PS - As if the above referenced situation wasn't enough - apparently my beloved Razr phone has been unable to hold a charge the entire weekend, so if any of my peeps tried to holla, I wasn't screening this time....

Go Cop That...

..Rebirth of A Nation by Public Enemy!

"In an era where buffoonery is encouraged and rewarded by big business hell bent on the degradation and exploitation of people of color in the name of profit, "Rebirth Of A Nation" is a welcome and necessary elixir. With strong beats and rhymes, it poses the questions many choose to avoid, and offers solutions many choose to ignore. A landmark achievement." ~courtesy of Guerilla Funk.com

*Note: Supa took the day off! Haaaapppy Fuckin' Friday!!

Update: It's storming outside, Supa is getting some quality rest and self-love time (soaked in a hot bath, sugar scrub, washed plaits, etc), she's munching on some grapes, snuggled beneath her electric blanket, just got off the phone w/someone who made her laugh..., and she's now faced with the strenuous decision of watching either: The Color Purple, Pretty in Pink, or old Miami Vice episodes. Oh, the day's been so demanding!!! lol I love these mental health days....'cause I sho needed one.

Have a great weekend, Blogger Fam!!!

We Haven't Forgotten You, Latasha

March 16th: On this date in 1991, Latasha Harlins was killed. Thirteen days after the Rodney King beating, a storeowner shot and killed Black teenager Harlins in the back of the head.

The merchant, Soon Ja Du, a 49-year old Korean woman who, with her husband, owned the Empire Liquor Market Deli in South Central LA, was charged with murder. She was later found guilty of voluntary manslaughter, but Judge Joyce Karlin granted the defendant probation. The store was later firebombed.

For those of you who were living in LA during this time, you no doubt remember this case - and still can't forget it. The murder of this child was played over and over again in the media, with the footage taken from the surveillance camera inside the store.

Latasha's death, (and the fact that Soon Ja Du, chick who pulled the trigger, received no jail time) played an instrumental role in this city going down in flames in '92. 'Pac often spoke about Latasha in his lyrics.

Read more about the worth of a young black life in South Central Los Angeles here.

Justice, peace.

Supa, out.

Supa's Spotlight

Since Supa strongly believes in supporting writers & the literary community, she has now developed the Supa's Spotlight feature, as a regular addition to her blog. (This is where I'm giving ya'll fellow literary gangstas an opportunity to showcase and slang yo' shit.) Please email me at supa_sister@yahoo.com if you'd like to be considered for the Supa's Spotlight. Guidelines & other information to follow.

So! First up to bat is one of my fellow C.S.S./writer colleagues...Hope you enjoy! Be sure to hit me/him up with feedback!

Quick Bio: Dory Boyd is a Los Angeles based freelance writer & comedy ghostwriter, who is currently a contributing writer for EWest Magazine. Dory has written film reviews for various local publications, and his comedic short plays have been featured throughout the greater Los Angeles area.

WHAT THE HEEZIE?…………….

1. Why is it that vince young’s low wonderlic score is an issue, right before the draft? (could it be they don’t wanna pay him) but dan marino had the same or similar score …with no athletic ability …and it wasn’t an issue in him being a productive all-pro quarterback or being selected to the hall of fame.

2. Why are professional black athletes character and conduct monitored and scrutinized more than the political leaders of this country’s character and conduct?

3. Why is it we can accept there are grown folks who are ugly yet in the same breath state that all babies are beautiful? does that mean ugliness evolves? or that when the child was about 7-9 ugly attacked him in his sleep?

4. did anyone out there watch the vh1 show flavor of love? did anyone else think the women were psychotic? no matter what you think of the show, i have to give it to flava flav, he took full opportunity of a great situation. (the brother stuck his tongue down more throats than a doctor’s tongue-depressors during routine throat exams). i give flav props! cause you know the brotha was getting up early to go to work, having a big hearty breakfast, driving the speed limit, with his seatbelt on everyday! i’m talking singing in the mirror, dancing and singing in the shower, flav was enjoying going to work, ya’ll! besides, they wanted to be contestants, they wanted to compete no one told them to get on the show. truth be said i don’t think most women with a gun to their dome would have done what these women were doing willingly. another thing that’s a bit mystifying to me is how was flava flav picked over biz markie and shabba ranks? how’d they miss the cut. (they coulda titled the show ‘getting the biz’ or ‘shabba “luv” rank and file’. when are those two gonna get a similar show? what i’d like to see is a dating game show with a pretty girl asking questions and flav, biz, and shabba being the contestants.
or have it where she has to go on a date with each of them for like a weekend each. with lotsa kissing, ….lotsa kissing.

5. i hear dick cheney’s having a hard time finding anyone who wants to go hunting with him. last i heard he was trying to talk condoleeza into going coon hunting. you know he got his a—cussed out!


6. when did it become cool to be representing for the ghetto? i didn’t get the memo, someone let me know. why do (we) keep buying into this crap, like any of those rich rappers with all those tattoos, and as real as they say still live in the ‘hood? puh-leeze! could it be that they don’t want any real thugs to move out. could that be the reason they keep saying its so GREAT!!!.

7. did anyone see any black people at the oscars? i scanned by television with binoculars and still couldn’t find a black person to save my life. i did see an usher about the same color as sinbad though.

8. listening to charlie wilson’s hit song about performing magic, he was wrong about abracadabra being a magical word to do a trick. ladies if you want to see real magic, and you’re dealing with a loser who you’d like to see disappear. say abraca- PREGNANT (poof) the man disappears….gone! i bet you didn’t realize there were so many magicians up in tha club.

9. remember (not so long ago) if you had super cooler lips, and a big jungle booty you were just too negro for hollywood. then someone in the industry, decides big lips are cute and j-lo walked out of the jungle and got jungle fever. and the next thing you know it you have collagen injections and brazilian butt-lifts all over the place. here’s the thing though, what happens in 2010 when the new asian look rolls in , thin lips and no behind. huh? what are those collagen injected folks gonna do then? here’s a thought …..(sing the rolling stone’s ….i can’t get no sa-tis-fac-tion….)

10. speaking of fads and trends and thangs. everyone has gone tattoo crazy, trouble with law…tat it up. trouble with yah maw….tat it up. trouble with your relationship….tat it up.no reason at all….tat it up. but that’s not really my issue, my thing is these problems have always existed and tattoo’s were not the norm. so what happened that put them on the map to mainstream america. i’ll tell yah, we now live in such a small mtv, cable tv, internet, soup bowl. that people follow whatever they see if its on a screen. folks are scared of only two real things in america, and its not being poor or missing the all you can eat buffet. (though you would think so.) no, folks are scared of being bored and missing out on what’s in. that’s why malls are packed, and why there’s a tattoo shop now in every mall.

11. is it just me or does it seem like food has become everyone’s new best friend? can’t afford a tattoo, have a big mac, some fries, and a shake. wow! that hit the spot. is that a new carl’s jr. (west coast)? nah, still not with me. drive by a in and out , at about 12 noon, you’d think they were handing out free crack! Remember when fastfood spots closed at 10pm, 11pm, 12pm…..not now can you say 24 hours! just in case….yah know!

12. Relationships. Just saying the word and like my girl (Supa Sister), my head starts to hurt. but don’t worry i’m bout to flip this one on its ear. i’m not gonna talk about how sad the state of male/female relationships are, that would be too easy. if you wanna know what kinda shape they’re in, turn on your radio. tune in to one of those stations that plays r & b, with an eleven song rotation. it might be a twenty song rotation but since half of them are saying the same crap, its really an eleven song rotation. if you’re stuck in traffic, or at home chilling listen to all eleven songs….(you might wanna cut your wrist after hearing it). if you listen and don’t want to cut your wrist, don’t worry your man will be out (of jail) soon! (you know how it is when you love a thug, those sentences can be murder on a relationship!)

Dory can be contacted at www.ewestmedia.net or dmice88@yahoo.com

Ahh, That Beautiful Lunar Madness...

Tonight is the full moon AND a lunar eclipse (though not visible from our side of the earth, I don't think)...Supa has always been greatly influenced by the phases of the moon.. are you?? Do you get the "crazies?" I tend to get highly energetic and restless...just a lil' more off the hook than usual....yeah, hard to imagine...

This is a time for renewal, healing and new beginnings.

Here's wishing you a productive full moon-time, Blogger Fam....

Note: Solar eclipse on March 29th (only visible from BRAZIL, Mid-Atlantic Ocean, the Sahara Desert, Turkey, Georgia (the state,I'm guessin'!), Russia, Kazakhstan, & Mongolia)

Supa On Flics: Dave Chappelle's Block Party

You're invited to the party of the decade!

Synopsis: Dave Chappelle's Block Party spotlights comedy superstar Dave Chappelle as he presents a Brooklyn neighborhood with its very own once-in-a-lifetime free block party. The unprecedented combination of comedy and music was shot on location. In addition to Mr. Chappelle performing all-new material, the stellar roster of artists includes Kanye West, Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Common, Dead Prez, Erykah Badu, Jill Scott, the Roots, Cody ChesnuTT, Big Daddy Kane, and - reunited for their first performance in over seven years - the Fugees.

Supa's mini-review: So since the dreaded Narnia, Supa's been real non-negotiable when it comes down to family movie night. After the suggestions went into the pot this weekend (The Hills Have Eyes, Madea's Family Reunion, Pink Panther, Aquamarine), Supa/Ms. Mom vetoed all that bullshyt and said, "Put your coats on, we're going to see Block Party." See that's how you do it. Give the children a chance to voice their own desires & choices, listen with love & respect, then shut 'em down. Just shut their asses down. Supa's slogan at the pad: "This 'aint no democracy--until you payin' a bill with your name on it, it's a dictatorship up in this piece!" Heh. But no, they do punk me from time to time - but not Saturday night. So off to The Block Party we went....

Bottom line: This movie is a love letter, and a MUST SEE for those who hail from the original hip-hop generation. To watch Dave organize his "vision" from behind the scenes, from the backstage footage of the artists, to witnessing the live performances (in front of a crowd of unified, beautiful black people) - the most beautifullest thing in the world, man. Good shit. Pure art.

SO yeah, Supa was head-bobbin' and throwin' her hands in the air, while the RR's shrunk in their seats in embarrassment and shame. But they enjoyed it. And it felt good (as a bona-fide hip-hop momma) to further expose them to true MC's and acts such as Talib Kweli, Mos Def, Big Daddy Kane, Black Thought, Fugees, Dead Prez, & Common, to name a few.

WARNING: There is explicit language in this film. Supa did the old school "cover your ears" thing....

The A,B,C's of Supa *Updated*

Tag, (guess) I'm it...My girl Singin' Diva tagged me awhile back..in frustratingly typical Supa Sister style, I'm just now getting to it! (It's a hard gig, runnin' ya own world, lemme tell ya....)

The A,B,C's of Supa.....

Accent - Refined USC (University of South Central), laced with a distinct midwestern twang. Proper Boughetto. Round-the-way intellectual-esque.
Bra size - Dat's info only for the privileged
Chore I hate - Cleaning up Sassy's shit
Dad's name -(sperm donor) Kenneth (aka "Mister" from Color Purple.)
Essential make-up - Lip gloss, baby. Gotta keep a luscious pucker.
Favorite perfume - Issey Miyake, Donna Karan
Gold or Silver? - Silver. Gold. Diamonds. Precious stones. Baubles. Whatever.
Hometown - Columbus, Ohio (born) Inglewood, Cali (raised)
Insomnia - Yes. Hence; Wine, chronic, Ambien when I can score...
Job Title - Queen of the MuhFuckin Universe
Kids - No, thank you. But yeah, I got a couple. My ex-husband date raped me. Twice. (Kidding! Hey Supa Ex!...)
Living Arrangement - Happily & Enthusiastically Solo!
Mom's Birthplace - Ohio
Number of Sexual Partners - the fuck kinda survey is this?!?!
Overnight Hospital Stays - When I had either one of them kids; when I broke my elbow, ribs, etc. during my years as a gymnast
Phobia(s) - Elevators, dying in an airplane crash, marriage, pine cones, unevolved boring-ass guys, not being able to buy more shoes....
Quote - There are years that ask questions, and years that answer. (Zora Neale Hurston)
Religion - Spirituality
Siblings - 1 brother, 1 sister
Two I'm tagging - Zeddie and Free
Unnatural hair colors I've worn - No comment. It was the '80's.
Vegetable I refuse to eat - Brussel Sprouts
Worst habit - Smartassed-ness, vile sarcasm, saying "fuck" a whole fucking lot, impatience, not returning phone calls
X-rays I've had - Dental. And some other shit. Can't remember.
Yummy foods I make - the best damn sugar cookies with the sprinkle joints on top. And a mean pan of veggie lasagne.
Zodiac sign - Triple Gemini. (Be afraid. No, really. RUN)

Update:
My tag-ees complied. Check out Knockout Zed and Free's!

Feel free to use this on your blog, and tag whoever the fuck ya want.

Supa, out!

They Back!

Tony and 'nem...

Supa loves these fictional Mobster sociopaths. Who caught the premiere episode last night?

I have questions. (re: who's who in the informant game) Hit me up!!

Celebration & Gratitude

March 12th 1979 - September 11th 2003

Happy Birthday Dena-D.

It's a Wonderful Life at the Supa Pad!

Let it be known, Supa (aka "Ms. Mom") and the RR’s enjoy a pretty chill home life. The Supa Pad is filled with love, joy, security, an energetic yet peaceful vibe, good music (& books & movies), lovingly administered discipline & supervision, and loads and loads of silliness. (Supa still plays hide n go seek with her spawn).

Yet, Supa has begun to notice there are distinct times and circumstances when the mellow flow of the Supa Pad is disrupted, which usually involves Supa/Ms. Mom flipping her lid over some seemingly mundane event, then proceeding to nut the fuck up. These events usually include, but are not limited to anything concerning:

Batteries: For some reason, there’s always a battery shortage at the Supa Pad. No matter how many packs I steal from work or purchase at Target, them joints is always coming up short. Which inevitably leads one of the spawn to gank the batteries out of Supa’s TV remote to stick in their Gameboy or CD walkman or electronic diary or some bullshit toy somebody got from GameStop, which leads to Supa's ass being left hanging whenever she reaches for something and naively expects it to work. So, like, when Supa settles in to take a nice steaming hot lavendar bath, Supa ‘aint got shit to listen to ‘cause one of the RR’s has made an unauthorized battery removal from her portable shower radio, and thus, all quantifiable hell breaks loose. ‘Cause that shit makes Supa absolutely livid.


Dirty TiVo practices: Ya’ll know I loves my TiVo. I take great pains to organize my movies and shows and documentaries for any given week, and look forward to settling in to catch up on the recordings when time allows. When I sit down with my curry chicken 'n rice meal, with my V Squared (Vitamin Water and Vodka mixed, new drink, ya’ll) to discover that my new Monk episode has been canceled and overriden by an episode of That’s So Raven, or that Best Week Ever’s priority has been subjugated by a godawful episode of the the Andy Milanokis Show – somebody has gots to pay. And since neither one of the RR’s want to drop a dime on the other and/or wanna play the dumb role, they both get equally jammed up.

Misplaced Electronica: Let’s see….there are no less than nine remotes in the Supa Pad which control tv’s, vcr’s, dvd’s, The Dishnetwork satellite, cd players, boom boxes, and a few of the light switches. Three cellphones which each have their own charger, then there’s Supa’s palm pilot charger, laptop charger, the RR’s X-box and PSP chargers, (spoiled asses), headphones, ear buds, Blue Tooth’s (hey P), etc., etc., etc. Suffice it to say, somebody is always misplacing SOMETHING. Somehow, the living room dvd remote will wind up in the upstairs bathroom trash can. Somehow the Dish network remote ends up beneath a Ruff Ryder’s bed. One time – I swear – the tv remote wound up in the freezer. Still haven’t figured that one out.

Designated Food and Drink: This is a very sensitive topic in the Supa Pad. Very sensitive topic. Since Supa came from a generation who grew up on food stamps, county cheese, Brand X cereal, Jewel T and other modes of substandard bargain basement grocery shopping, she promised herself that once grown and able, she’d buy the kind of goodies she could never have consistently as a shorty. Lucky Charms, Heinz Ketchup, Tropicana Orange Juice, Perrier, brand name shit like that. Supa makes sure to buy the RR’s their own little stash(es), so the boundaries are clearly established. When the stuff goes into the fridge on grocery day, Supa “claims” it in front of them, so they know good and well what’s off limits, and can’t come popping off with that “I didn’t know” at a later date. Well. Supa doesn’t know how many times she’s had to bust into a RR’s room at some ungodly hour demanding to know “who ate all her damn Fruit Loops,” or coaxing out a confession as to who drank the very last of the Grapefruit Kiwi Hansen Natural sodas. Supa has now been reduced to making “don’t touch it, it’s mine” labels on her designated food and drink. Last week, the Lawry’s Season Salt came up missing, and Supa was forced to go out and purchase a new bottle right then in order to enjoy her microwave popcorn in the proper fashion. 'Cause that 99cent store season salt 'aint worth a damn.

Smart-assedness, Back talk, & Foul Language: Not by them, by me. But rest assured, I didn’t start cursing at, or around my kids until they were old enough to do something curse-worthy – so if I remember, they had to be about six, seven months old, at least. Ha ha. No. But really….Supa won’t lie to ya, she does not refrain from the casual “sheeeiiit” or “oh hell no” or “dammit” around the house. When Supa is ranting around the household due to unfinished chores or homework, The Boy will say very calmly say: “Mom, there’s really no need for profanity,” to which I will reply with a “Who you think you talkin' to?Go clean your room, dammit!” There was one notable occasion where The Boy asked if he could purchase a certain cd, and I told him yes, but only if he got the edited version, on account of there being too much profanity on the record. He then looked at me said, (deadpan): “I don’t see what the big deal is, I’ve already been exposed to all that bad language at home…” At that, I had to laugh. And then I replied – “Don’t be a smartass, dear. Now go clean your gotdamn room!”

Other areas of contention include: Missing forks, spoons, and other utensils, unauthorized stockpiling of toilet paper, kids answering the phone without permission, off-limits areas on the couch (I ALWAYS get the left corner of the sectional. Always.), and fighting over who gets to spend quality time with the family pet.

Ahhh, but it's all good in the 'hood: "motherHOOD"...It's a wonderful life!

Happy Fucking Friday!!

Thursday's Tidbits...

Anyone watch the premiere of Black.White. of FX Network last night? Anyone? (Saw your name in the credits, Ms. Ahmad!) Check out Emerging Phoenix's recap.

Going to watch Lil' Kim's Countdown to Lockdown on BET?

Supa is happy to report that as of sometime last week, her machine became full and is no longer accepting new messages: (lmao)

Finally: leaving you with a quote from one of Supa's favorite flics:

"Life is filled with goodbye's Eve. A million goodbyes..and it hurts every time. Sometimes I feel like I've lost so much, I have to find new things to lose...All I know is, there must be some divine point to it all...it's just over my head.. And when we die, it'll all become clear and we'll say: So that was the damn point...and sometimes, I think there's no point at all, and that's the point...All I know is, most people's lives are a great disappointment to them...and no one leaves this earth without feeling terrible pain..and if there is no divine explanation at the end of it all..well..that's just sad..."

Back In the Matrix...

Whass gwaan, blogger fam?? Supa's playing a serious game of catch-up back on the work front, but don't worry, not gonna let 'em work me too hard. I mean 'cause, who do they think I am, supa sister or something? heh heh heh

Meanwhile.....just for the record....
I was morti-fucking-fied. *SIGH*
Am I alone? Anyone? Anyone? And an even better question: What do we as socially/culturally conscious, self-loving black folk do about it?

Here's a very interesting take: (an op/ed by Mark Skillz): It's Hard out Here for Real Hip-Hop

And what's all this I hear about KRS-1 getting straight ignant? (good lookin' out Cinq) Click here for an audio excerpt of the Stanford forum http://media.odeo.com/4/6/0/KRSarguing.mp3

Blessings and thanks to pioneer in the arts, Gordon Parks

An American Legend

Supa (finally) Gets Dismissed!

Blogger Fam:

I'ze free! I'ze freee!! (not to be confused with this Free. :)

Look:


Supa got her freedom papers today!!! Aww, thank yuh massa! Oh, wait, hold up. Lemme take care of this lil' piece of parting bizness:

Dear Mr. Prosecuting Attorney,

Hey, you. Sorry for leaving the courtroom in such haste today - but I'm sure you understand. There's something about being forced to sit still for mind numbing hours at a time, sans cell phone and computer privileges in too-close proximity with complete strangers that drives this chick absolutely insane....but I digress. I must say, it's been rather fun ogling over you these last few days..But our short time together has come to an end....thank you for smiling at me on my way out. A wink or a sexy tongue thrust would've been more exciting, but hey - you were in court trying to pick out a jury, I understand. And upon closer inspection, I kinda noticed that you're not as cute as Clive, but that's not your fault. And your head really is huge. But enough of all that. It's been real, yo.

Respectfully,

Juror #886

So, now I can blab about the case... (sticking my tongue out at P) Well. Long story short, the brotha was being tried for murder, attempted robbery, and attempting kidnapping for ransom; some kind of drug deal gone bad. The case also involved California's felony murder clause: which basically means, if during the commission of any felony, if someone ends up dead even if it wasn't your intent - your stupid ass will be held responsible for the murder - even if you didn't physically pull the trigger. Um. So. Yeah.

The second after the charges were read, I raised my hand. Just couldn't do it. Even though I noted my apprehension early on, I still had to sit through the voir dire process, let them ask me questions, and then offer my reason about not being able to sit on the case. When I FINALLY got the chance to meet with the judge, the defense attorney, and Mr. Prosecutor in chambers (that was kinda fun!), I just kept it real and told them that I'm in an emotionally volatile/vulnerable frame of mind because of this, and there was no fucking way I could give this dude a fair shake due to my own personal issues. So, they let me go. And I gotta tell you, the last few days have been entirely draining for me, a preview of things to come. Not looking forward to being in court come September for my sis' murder trial. Nope. Nope nope nope nope. (deep breath)

So who knows if this dude did it or not, but yeah DPM, they'll give the brotha a fair trial before they hang him.

Some of the more humorous statements Supa heard, in the effort to get out of serving on the case:

"I think lawyers are scum."

"I hate the po-lease"

"I've got a doctor's appointment next week"

"I don't believe in the felony murder rule. If he killed a drug dealer, then he's all right with me"

Comedy.

So hey! Supa's looking forward to catching up on your blog musings, fo sho! TIA - just looked at your email, you are a GEM!! (thank you, sis) And Mwabi, I'ma research what you asked me in your email. Thanks blogger fam, for walking alongside me during my jury duty drama. And my mace is BACK on my keychain where it friggin belongs!!

Up shortly: Supa on Flics: The Interpreter movie review. (and real quick: I really liked Constant Gardner, I really LOVE Interpreter...stay tuned)

Peace. Out! Happy..whatever day it is today...

Blessings to Ali Farka Toure

African music legend Ali Farka Toure dies

Thank you for blessing us with your music.

To explore Ali Farka Toure's music, visit here.

sadness! call me, Jude!