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Summer’s unofficially over. Decided to get rid of the convertible George Jefferson mini-fro. Shaved. Guess I should look semi-professional for a new season at work. Although I’m gonna miss running my fingers through soft hair on my hot dog neck rolls.

White privilege is being able to get a cop FIRED for shooting your DOG.


Remember when that IL cop got fired for shooting a dog who posed a deadly threat?

I forgot all about this, which is why I love the Internet.  Thank you for reminding me that Black lives are worth less than those of  white families’ pets.


Neighbors called the police about a pit bull / shepherd mix in a yard not on a leash and upon arrival, he bared his teeth at one of the officers.  So, the officer — a 15-year veteran of the force — shot him, and the community was so outraged, the officer lost his job.

It took Ferguson police a week to even release the name of Michael Brown’s shooter.

I want you to lay these stories out side by side for your Racist White Apologist Friends.

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He gritted on that poor cop. I don’t care how the family tries to spin it. He obviously had a behavior problem. Probably high on Jerky Treats. That son-of-bitch got what he deserved.

And now for another bit of self reflection … They put floor to ceiling mirrors in at work while I was away. So that was nice surprise this morning when I walked into the lobby. Yeah I had a little fun doing A Chorus Line kicks with my nonexistent legs, but hid in my office most of the day. Seriously, I’m like the dude in Kids. I have no legs! I’m just head, hands, belly and feet. Welp, definitely motivation to start walking and yoga again. Not to mention relearn Janet Jackson’s “The Pleasure Principle” choreography. Chair leap, knee slides and back flips included. Ooo ahhhh …

To Be Young(ish), Big and Black …

Last week, I had a Boston business trip to keep me from fully engaging in what went down and what’s going down in Ferguson. So this weekend I played catch-up. And today? I’m in a fucking funk, wanting people to do better on all sides and feeling doubly damned  by genetics (aided by a piss poor diet). Triply, if you wanna toss in the gayness but that’s not as immediately noticeable. Well, not that obvious unless I happen to be queening out  to Whitney’s “It’s Not Right But It’s Okay” after about four gin and tonics (“I can pay my own rent! Pay my light bill. Take care of my babies! Oh! Oh! Oh-ohh!”),  or  even a bigger clue, you happen to catch me with a dick in my mouth. My color and my enormity can’t be concealed.  And …  apparently, judging from the brilliance on the display in various comments sections, those two things combined are even scarier than a half-dozen white men rolling up into Chili’s with assault rifles.

 Big black men are having the worst summer ever.

I’m sad and angry (Sangry?) Sad at yet another senseless loss of life at the hands of the folks paid out of my pocket to protect and serve. Angry at all mental gymnastic folks are going through to justify jaywalking or selling loosies as crimes punishable by fatal insta-justice. I didn’t want to engage in any useless back and forth in these various comment section, listening to people parrot Fox News and toss irrelevant arguments. So I’m wandering over here to vent. Hey choir!

Example of comment that got all up in my craw:: That video was a game-changer! Gentle giant. NOT!!! He was thieving thug built like a “grizzly.” His body is a deadly weapon. Hell yeah, I’m gonna shoot if he charges at me.

  1. That video?  A game-changer? Nope. More like vile and underhanded fucking piece of theater meant as a distraction. Yeah, stealing cigarillos and yolking up the cashier that calls you on it is wrong, but you know what’s more wronger? Beside the word wronger.  Shooting an unarmed person (black, white, brown or in between) multiple times just because they didn’t respect your authority and leaving his body for hours in the streets that you claim you  were trying to get him clear.
  2. Maybe its just me, but i hate the term gentle giant, used ironically or otherwise.  Used in earnest, there’s seems to be that underlying implication that just because I’m my stature abuse people and to take what I want ( the good ole American way) that I’m on the spectrum or touched in the head. Get outta here with that old Green Mile Of Mice and Men bullshit! Fuck you and the rabbit you rode in on. See! I can be mean, motherfucker! Sorry!                     But just because I’m big and black bully is supposed to my default mode? No! For the most part and in spite of being on misanthrope spectrum (can not suffer fools gladly), I like to  exercise kindness, consideration and empathy for other folk. Example: *Cops. They’re having the worst summer ever too with the parade of incompetence and unwarranted aggression on display in Ferguson, NYC and elsewhere.  I just wanna give a cop a hug. One of the good ones! One of the ones who isn’t gonna draw his gun on me or put me in a choke hold, if I approached him/her (preferably him, obviously. Something in a Stackhouse or Jeffords or Peralta) with arms outstretched.  I’d embrace them and say, "Just because someone that kinda looks like you and is from the sorta the same place as you screws up, everybody wants to think you’re a screw-up too. I know you’re not, buddy. I know! Disrespecting you, scared of you, not trusting you and refusing to see you as you and just assuming the most basic and wretched bullshit about you because of the color of your uniform. Sucks, don’t it? Kinda some of us niggas feel everyday. Unfortunately, we can’t pull our skin off at the end of the day. There there, buddy. It’s not your fault.*”                                                                                               
  3. Speaking of niggas, can we all agree that thug is the new nigger? (And apologies if anybody feels that “on the spectrum” is the new re-re). Thug or not, he and everyone else in this country is entitled to due process. Cops can’t be jurors and executioners too. I paid attention in civics. We got branches, baby. Checks and balances.  Tea-Baggers wanna whine about President Obama trampling your constitutional rights. To paraphrase songstress and former Atlanta housewife Sheree Whitfield, Who gon check your local police department, Boo?
  4. Once upon time and long ago, I was a dumb teenager. Not to mention of preacher’s kid itching to rebel. So I did my share of stupid stuff. Kinda nefariously nerdy stuff but stupid stuff all the same.  I took the SAT for someone else. Sold yearbooks that “fell off the back of the truck.”  I even did my share of shoplifting. Never cigarillos or cigarettes. I could just by those when I was fifteen (along with my Playgirl magazine). And I didn’t dare steal clothes. Hell, being a husky teen, the places I could shop were limited and I didn’t want to get banned them. I stole books and magazines. Never stole my Playgirls though. Just imagined if I got caught and had to call my parents, Revered and Mrs. AME Zion to tell them that I was a thief and a fag to boot.  Maybe it was one of those instances when stereotypes worked to my advantage (Must be lookin’ for mama. Black boys don’t read! He must’ve wandered into the wrong store. Why is bent over and holding  his belly like that. Poor little niglet piglet must’ve stuffed himself at  The Cookie Factory),  but I never got caught. Had I got caught, I would hope that didn’t define me as a person or give police freedom to shoot me for any other transgressions I may have gone on to commit after my ass heals from the whipping my mother, Mrs. AME “I don’t care how big your are!” Zion is mostly likely to give me. 

Why do I scroll down? The comment section is like America’s nasty, sweaty and unwashed underbelly. And speaking as big boy (grasping at straws as how to wrap up my blog therapy session), you got to kept underbelly clean or it starts to stink. Powder it down with some talcum too. You do want it to chafe. Thank you to the websites that make me click to open comments and allow me a moment’s pause to reconsider wandering into world of trolls and the stubbornly ignorant.

*As if last week wasn’t fucked up enough. We had to say goodbye to Robin Williams too! I don’t drink that often but I think I was in the hotel bar every night that week— especially that Monday. Open bar!!

** Sure, when I’m pulled over for a DWB w/ALF(with a lead foot) was I always get the question “You play(ed), ball?”

And I think to myself, Why? Because I’m a big black guy and that’s the only thing we’re capable of doing?

And I lie, “Yeah. College.”

That seems to make them happy. I get off with a warning or a lesser charge and they let me go.

Thankfully, I’ve only had one incident in which I felt I a bit harassed by overly aggressive cop. He was an Asian and it happened. Traffic was blocked. I did an illegal U-turn. He gets me, ask me question and continuously yells as me as I try to answer. I’m mad and my hearts beating a mile a minute. Foolishly enough, maybe, I was not scared of him. I was scared of what he’d find in a re-purposed candy tin I had on me, if things had escalated. I was riding dirty.  So I kept my calm and let him work out his Napoleon  complex on his own.

"He was a big man that had to be brought to ground by shorter police officers."

Boo-the fuck-hoo. He may have had the height advantage but they had the numbers advantage. Get the fuck out of here! 

Dear Police,

If I don’t put my hands behind my back and get on my knees quite as quickly you would like, it’s likely because I’m bewildered more so than belligerent. However if you and your four friends with the guns feel that intimidated by my fat black giant ass and want to take me down, aim for knees and not my neck, please. I much rather live with a limp than die.

'kay thanks!

Felipe A.


It’s officially gone too far now.

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