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Sunday Soliloquy: Ghost Dance October 31, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — afrocity @ 1:28 PM
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Having proved that my intentions to blog more often have failed- let me apologize.  October was a rough month for dear Afrocity.   I had surgery during late September and tons of things to do for my various income paying projects.

Many of you have asked, “What happened to Sunday Soliloquy?” .   Well to put it bluntly, I seem to be in a denial stage (again) with my mother’s death.   I know, I know it will be four years in 2011- this should be an old hat for me now.  Writing about our life together is sometimes not an easy thing.

Sunday Soliloquy takes a lot out of me emotionally.

Not only does it involve drudging my mother up from the ashes, it also brings unpleasant memories often of being hungry, homeless, or just plain feeling vulnerable.

Perhaps this sudden avoidance is a natural progression with the grieving process. Remember, I never saw my mother dead.  There is no ghost of spirit bereft flesh for me to contend with.  They would not let me see her body or the pictures they took when they found her.  She was so far gone that I had to take a DNA test just to prove she was my mother.  A DNA test which took 12 weeks for them to process.  Without proof seen with my own eyes, there was no death.   Just a phone call one night from a strange woman with a Texas twang.

“…maybe you should sit down honey, I have some terrible news…”

There is nothing more denial friendly than an AWOL corpse.  Though mother showed up in my mailbox later as a box of carefully wrapped ashes,  it never computed.  They were placed in my credenza like some relic- a gift that I hated from a relative who knew nothing of my taste.  The bad Christmas sweater or hideous art work that you hid in the closet.

Now I trawl the streets of Chicago, dealing with ghosts.

Where was I going with this?  Oh, it is Halloween.

Mother and I liked this holiday because during our lean years it meant free food- if candy can be considered a food group.  There was a sense of improvisation with my costumes. An old dress, glitter paint, and make shift angle wings cut from cardboard boxes and covered in Reynolds aluminum foil transformed me into a fairy princess.

Other more middle-class endowed kids would have store bought costumes- which I wanted but mother insisted on making mine- plus the money was not there.

In 1980,  I was taking dance lessons at a local studio.  Often, I  was late because mother would never pick me up from school to get there in time.  This lead to awkward moments where I tip toed into class – the only African American girl in the entire school mind you (sure I was not noticeable) , wearing something that mother thought was proper dance class attire…Like a Underoos for a leotard.  My teacher would shake her head at me and I fell into line with the rest of the girls who were laughing at me.

Given that this dance class was mother’s idea, she sure made it her business not to be involved in aspect of it besides registering me.  She never reminded me to practice but the studio never forgot that she had not paid the bill.  Part of the embarrassment, was at the end of class when the teacher would call my name to stay after and that folded up white piece of paper would get stuck in my  hand.

“Afrocity, give this to your mother,” she would say with a fake reassuring smile.  “And next time practice the steps at home.”

I nodded and made my swift exit into what I would call the bitches with perfect blond ponytail zone- the dance studio locker room.  Their leotards were perfect- all from Dansko.  Ballet shoes from Capezio,  personality by WASP.  Their treatment of me was dictated in large measure by what I did wrong in class.  On this Halloween Eve which was a Thursday,  Afrocity had done a lot of things wrong.   Dancing was not my strong suit.  Coordination was not a gift- feet went left when they should go straight, my timing sucked.

“I thought all black people could dance,”  said Ponytailed Bitch #1.  “What happened to you?”

My reaction, which was to ignore her, served more or less as an admission of guilt.  I did not know why I could not dance like the other black kids- especially my cousin.  Cousin could imitate any move on Soul Train. Afrocity, well I stuck with the books.  Rythmless creature that I was,  I am sure the other girls in the class grew tired of teacher having to stop just so she could come to the back and correct my posture or pose.

“What are you going to be for Halloween?”  asked  Ponytailed Bitch #2.  “Two left feet???”

A massive need to bolt welled up in me but I just laughed with them and changed into my jeans while looking down at the floor.  Halloween was the next day and I bet they would have ponytailed bitch perfect costumes.  I would be the Fairy Princess of Welfare or what ever mother was planning.  I had the Old Salvation Army puffy long Glenda the Good Witch dress, aluminum foil wings (not sure how she is going to attach those),  a crown from Burger King happy meal type box, all I needed was some shoes.   And this is where the ponytail bitches ridicule of me came in handy.  As I was looking down at the floor I notice a box of dance shoes. Ballet slippers, tap dancing shoes, pink shoes, red shoes…

The huge cardboard box must have been either some sort of lost and found or discards.   As my eyes, tore through what I could see in the box, there was a pink satin ribbon sticking out- like the kind on those really beautiful ballet slippers that they wear in the advanced class. Not the leather slippers with the shoe toe bow, but real princess ballet slippers.  I wanted those shoes for my costume. Eyes directly focused, the shoes were about may one third of the way into the box.   A less greedy and more conscientious Afrocity realized that I would have to wait until the locker room was empty to go through the box without appearing to be an urchin.  With Ponytailed Bitches primping and giggling this could take hours- and it did.   I endured about 4 more racist like insults, including one where I was asked why do black people have Brillo Pad like hair.  This was said as Ponytailed Bitch #3 was brushing her shiny tresses much like Marsha Brady in one of those Jan envy episodes.

“Can a brush even get through you guys hair?” asked Ponytailed Bitch number #1 .

“Yeah I mean lookit,” Ponytailed Bitch number #3 said coming at me with her brush.

I backed away from them. Why didn’t they just leave?

Thankfully another Ponytailed Bitch stuck her head in the locker room door and yelled “Hey guys if you want a ride it is my dad’s weekend to have me and he is outside. He has a bigger car than my mom so…”

Alone at last. The Ponytailed Bitches grabbed their Pert shampoo, Aquanet, Phisoderm,  and other Seventeen Magazine shit and left me in the room with the box of shoes.

Quickly, I went to the box and pulled on the pink satin ribbon until the shoe emerged. Oh, please be my size, please be my size.  Stuck my foot in…they were a bit big but I could stuff them with paper towels.

Digging for its mate, was a bit more challenging.

This box was about up to my waist.  I was nearly head first, feet up in the air in the box when of all people my teacher walks in the locker room.  The ability to see her upside down was not uncommon because I was always falling in class anyway.

She was tiny about 4’11, blond, lithe.  A blue towel was wrapped around her neck.  She was sweating and flushed, her skin pink and freckled against the black leotard.

“Did you drop something in the shoe box?” she asked as she went to her locker.

By this time I was upright and out of the box.  I still had the one slipper on the floor.  “Ummm I am looking for my other shoe.”  I lied.

“Oh? I did not know you took ballet classes too,”  she said changing into sweat pants. “I thought your mom just put you in the modern jazz class.”

My lip began to twitch.  What do I say no?  “I have not started yet but I am practicing early.”

“Oh, I see you are practicing for the class that you have not had yet you cannot seem to practice for my class?”

My head went back to the floor.

“Do you not like jazz dance?” she asked coming closer to me. “Do you prefer ballet because many girls often do because of the pretty clothes and shoes and pink tutu, ponytails…”

Silence was my answer.

“Hmmm, ” she nodded “You know Modern Jazz Dance class  is more in step with your culture. Ben Vereen  does it do you know him?”

I swallowed a lump… “Yes, he was Chicken George on Roots.”

“Very good Afrocity but he also is a great black dancer and was in Pippin- a musical. Have you seen Pippin?”

I shook my head.  “I know what it is.  We cannot afford to go.”

“That is too bad because Mr. Vereen is a great black Modern Jazz dancer.”

“I like your class,” I mumbled stupidly.  Gee that was insincere. I hated the class but mom wanted me the. Teacher was right, I would rather be in ballet but face it ballet was a very white class.  The costumes were more expensive and my hair was not Ponytailed Bitch compliant.

Teacher closed her locker and towards the door to leave.  Dumb me was still there at the shoe box.  Beyond the lockers was a window. I could see that it was dark outside.  Suddenly I missed the daylight until 8PM days of summer. All of this shoe business was making me late. Mom was probably wondering where I was and since we had no phone, I could not call her to say why I was delayed.

“Afrocity,”  she said flinging her knapsack over er shoulder ” If you promise to practice, I promise to bring you my album of Pippin to listen to at home.  You may borrow it…okay?”

The  necessity to say no was there and valid I did not own a record player. Mother had pawned ours for $13 dollars so we could eat.  I lied again . “Okay,”  I nodded.  “I promise to practice.”

“Good,”  finally teacher was opening the door to leave. “And don’t forget to ask your mom about Ben Vereen.  I am sure she knows all about him.  There is a reason why she chose the jazz class for you and there are so few black kids that can afford to take classes-  tell you mother than we can work something out with that letter I gave you to give to her.”

I nodded again.

“Do you have a ride home?  Is someone picking you up?  It is nearly 7 o’clock.”

I lied again,  My mom is coming she had to work late. She will be here soon.”    My mother was on welfare and she was not coming to get me.  I was going to walk the 15 blocks home.

“Okay, you sure?”

I nodded again.

“I will see you next Thursday on time,” she stressed that last sentence. ” Practice makes perfect and we have a deal now. Imagine yourself tall and elegant.  See you next time.”

“Okay.”   I lied again.  Never would I step foot in that dance studio.   That was the last time I saw the teacher.  I would not listen to Pippin or be late or practice or receive another past due bill.

In the midst of all the humiliation, there was still the matter of the satin ballet slippers that I needed for my perfect fairy princess Halloween costume.  With a  vengeance, I decided to dump the entire box and find the mate.   Dirty shoes, small shoes, black shoes, white, pink…Ah there was the mate all smooth and perfect.

My inner thief, concealed the slippers in my book satchel and was almost about to cover my tracks when the cleaning lady came in.  She was African American,  and looked pissed off …with reason.  “What the heck happened with all of these shoes on the floor?”   She looked at me.   “Did you do this?”

I shook my head and ran past her through the door into the autumn Oak Park, Illinois night.   My jacket was flimsy and I was wearing Underoos and tights.

The suburban neighborhood had put great effort into making its homes look scary for Halloween.  Jack-o-lanterns on every porch step,   brown paper bags with tealight candles lining the walkways.  The rustling leaves were in step with my running legs.   I ran the entire way home back to my apartment complex, avoiding any single man I saw walking down the street.   This practice of knowing the well lit shortcuts was an art, no one would abduct me and I had special powers to ward off lurking pedophiles because of my new stolen slippers.

Once I was home, mother seem not to care that it was nearly 8PM.   In fact, she did not bother to come out of the bedroom when I entered the apartment.

I put down my satchel and took out the ballet slippers, placing them next to the fluffy dress and box of aluminum foil for my fairy costume.

Dinner was absent from the kitchen.  I opened the cupboard and all there was in that empty space was soup.   I took out the Cream of Mushroom Campbell’s , got a pot and dumped the globby contents in.

“Add water to it.”   Mother instructed. It was alive.

I put tap water into the empty can, poured it into the pot,  stirring slowly.

Mother went into the living room.  I could hear her rustling through my bag.  “Someone had a party at school,” she said.

She was referring to the candy in my bag and popcorn balls from the class party.  I was so hungry that I had stood at the stove top eating the soup from the pot before it had heated fully.


Could not answer her because my mouth was full of soup.  Her footsteps came to the kitchen.

“Where did you get these?” she asked holding the ballet slippers by the satin ties.

Here came my ten millionth lie of the evening “I just found them on the street by the school…I tried to turn them in but my teacher told me to just keep them.  I thought maybe I could wear them tomorrow with my costume that you are working on…”

For a moment I think she knew I was lying. She looked suspicious of me.  Later I would learn that she had been derelict in her duties of aluminum foiled wing making.   “Well lucky you.  That was an easy find. “

I shrugged my shoulders, “Easy find”

She looked at the shoes closely ” Someone must be missing these.  Oh well, God knew that you needed the perfect shoes to be a fairy princess for Halloween- the Lord will provide”

I nodded. I lied.

“The other girls will be so jealous of you,” she said.

I nodded.  I lied.

Autographed Letter Signed,



The Adventures of Done Juan October 21, 2010

From Fred

I knew it. I knew it. I knew it.

It was a normal Fox News Night.  O’Reilly was reveling in his triumphant appearance on The View. The rabid liberals ummm, I mean hostesses  Joy Behar and Whoopi Goldberg walked out on Bill-O and left Barbabra Walters sitting there on the couch- stunned.

It was a good talking points night for O’Reilly Factor…I wonder if Bill new that the evening would lead to liberals walking out on another Fox kid.

From the Atlantic

Juan Williams Fired by NPR For No Particular Reason (UPDATED)

By Jeffrey Goldberg

October 21, 2010

National Public Radio has fired the political analyst Juan Williams for comments he made about Muslims on Bill O’Reilly’s Fox show. These are two of the controversial comments in question, according to The New York Times:

‘I mean, look, Bill, I’m not a bigot. You know the kind of books I’ve written about the civil rights movement in this country. But when I get on the plane, I got to tell you, if I see people who are in Muslim garb and I think, you know, they are identifying themselves first and foremost as Muslims, I get worried. I get nervous.”

And this, in reference to Faisal Shahzad, the Pakistani immigrant who attempted to blow up Times Square with a car bomb:

“He said the war with Muslims, America’s war is just beginning, first drop of blood. I don’t think there’s any way to get away from these facts.”

The first quotation reflects the views, I’m guessing, of the vast majority of people who fly in this country (and in Europe and Asia and other parts of the world, as well). With some regularity, Muslim men associated with radical Islamist organizations have been trying to kill American civilians, here and abroad. A group of 19 Muslim men succeeded beyond their wildest dreams in their mission nine years ago. The majority of Muslims abhor terrorism, and Muslims are the disproportionate victims of Muslim terror, but the essential truth remains that most of the world’s spectacular terrorism today — thwarted and achieved — is committed by Muslims. Juan Williams misunderstands one crucial fact: Muslim terrorists who are attempting to commit acts of terror seldom if ever dress in “Muslim garb”; they dress, for obvious tactical reasons, in a manner meant to help them blend in with surroundings. So Williams is wrong, I think, to be particularly suspicious of traditionally-dressed Muslims. But is he wrong to worry about Islamist terrorism? Of course not.

Here is the actual clip:

I was there watching while eating dinner and I almost choked on my pasta and had to do a double take.

“Did he just say what I think he said?”  I asked.  “Not Juan…Juan????”

I laughed and looked for a reaction from Bill-O. There was not much of one but I sensed a tinge of WTF?


RACIST!!!!In the current climate of hyper-PC-ness, you just don't say that sort of thing. I knew there would be repercussions for Juan's statement.

Was Juan’s  statement racist?

Yes-somewhat.  Prejudging is racist.  Juan’s statement is equivalent to saying that you lock your car doors whenever you drive through a black neighborhood.  Was I surprised that it was coming from Fox News’ small reserve stash of liberals?  Yes, but I am not surprised.  Few liberals will admit that they feel the same way as Juan Williams does when he sees someone in “Muslim garb” board a 767- but they do.  Few liberals will admit that they voted for Obama because he was black- but they did.  And even fewer liberals will admit that they are racist- but they are.

But “racists are only Tea Partiers ” you say?

Nope.  And thank you Juan Williams for proving that.

Autographed Letter Signed,



Never Give A Democrat A Cookie…Or Pie…Or Lobster October 19, 2010

Remember this quote from Michelle Obama back during the 2008 campaign days?

The truth is, in order to get things like universal health care and a revamped education system, then someone is going to have to give up a piece of their pie so that someone else can have more.

—Michelle Obama

But Michelle never really gave up her $500 Lanvin tennis shoes, or trips to Spain for lobster fest …

I did and here is my story…

Sunday, I went grocery shopping as usual. Campbell’s soup was 10 cans for 10$, so I got some of those.  Brownberry bread was buy one get one free with my shoppers card.  I passed my favorite Sugar Wafer cookies by Nabisco- eek $4.99.  I went on by.  At the deli stand I requested Swiss cheese, smoked turkey and “Old Fashioned Loaf” meat.

While rolling by the seafood stand I espied two gorgeous large lobster tails.  There was a sale sign that said $5.99 each.  My eyes blinked in disbelief.   Scallops were nearby and they were beauties also.  Being economical, I asked for some salmon fillets.  The seafood clerk wrapped my fillets in the familiar white butcher paper and slapped the price tag on.   I had hardly noticed his outstretched hand because I was still gazing at the lobster tails.

“Miss,” he said waving the salmon.  “Is that all?”

I shook off my lobster lust and nodded my head grabbing the package of salmon.

The next stop was the meat counter for beef stew meat and a few steaks.  Surf and Turf was calling my name.  Still had a bit of gas in the grill- this could be the last hurrah so to speak for grilling season.  Okay, okay, okay…I will get the lobster tails.  My cart did a 90 degree turn and I smiled widely and told the seafood clerk ”  I have decided to get those lobster tails.”

I pointed to the only two lobster tails in the display case.  “Those,”  I claimed, chest sticking out like a peacock.   Afrocity gonna feast on some lobster TONIGHT!!!

The melted butter and lemon smell was aromatically playing over and over in my head.  My little treat for me too bad mother is dead- well not that it mattered- she was allergic to shellfish anyway.   Baked potatoes would be a great pairing- get in my Michelle Obama veggies-

“Forty-five dollars .”

And I could maybe invite my dad over to share or eat both tails my- ” HUH?”

“Forty-five dollars.”

NO!!!!  I looked at the sale sign and pointed ” It says lobster tails  $5.99 each -“

The seafood man came around the counter and laughed. ” Oh, that. That sale is for the small tails.  I am out of those.”

I must have looked like someone just told me Christmas was canceled because the poor man shrugged his shoulders and looked guilty.  ” The tails you pointed out are large tails, they are like twenty something each…”

I walked away from the counter.

“You don’t still want these? I wrapped them-“

With a grinch snarl, I shook my head and made a speedy getaway with my shopping cart. How embarrassing.  For a moment I thought just spend the $45.  If I put back the vanity light bulbs, fancy ravioli, Welch’s pomegranate blueberry juice with added fiber, Patsy’s Pasta Sauce, $4.99 Vanilla Chai Protein drink…the ten cans of soup- then maybe I could have the lobster tails.  And what does that counter seafood guy think of my race now?

“Cheap black people always want something for nothing.”

Maybe I should buy the tails just to prove that African American can afford lobster.

You see, even Afrocity succumbs to racial brainwashing at times.

When all was debated in my head and done, I did not buy the lobster tails and had stuffed chicken breasts for dinner.

Not as appetizing as surf and turf but with the recession, I could not justify paying so much for a meal for lil’ ol me.

We all need to start making some changes to how our families eat. Now, everyone loves a good Sunday dinner. Me included. And there’s nothing wrong with that. The problem is when we eat Sunday dinner Monday through Saturday.

–Michelle Obama

Yes my thermostat was set to 75 degrees and Barry Obama would not like that either.

We can’t drive our SUVs and, you know, eat as much as we want and keep our homes on, you know, 72 degrees at all times, whether we’re living in the desert or we’re living in the tundra, and then just expect every other country is going to say OK, you know, you guys go ahead keep on using 25 percent of the world’s energy, even though you only account for 3 percent of the population, and we’ll be fine. Don’t worry about us. That’s not leadership.

~~ Barack Obama

So I did not give up my piece of the pie.  I am selfish but turning my back on the lobster tails was a start…wasn’t it?

Anyway, this humorous video by RightChange explains why you should never give your piece of the pie or a cookie to a Democrat.

Autographed Letter Signed,



Conservative Women: Waiting to Exhale October 13, 2010

When it comes to women, Democrats leave.

When it comes to Democrats, women stay.

Which makes feminism a battered wife in an abusive relationship.

Looking back on what so- called feminists allowed to happen to Sarah Palin and Hillary Clinton prove that.

It is not speaking out against women whose political ideas you don’t believe in that bothers me.  It is the use of words such as “cunt” and “whore” to describe women and liberal feminists acceptance of it as endorsement worthy behavior  that does.

I would not vote for Nancy Pelosi and she is a woman.  I can speak out against her policies but still support women in politics.  If Rush Limbaugh called her a whore, I would speak out against it and I have told conservative friends when they are getting out of hand. You do not have to support Meg Whitman or Sarah Palin but you should not support the use of profane, vile insults hurled at them or any other woman during a campaign.

So far we have on the Republican side of the story -a cunt (Sarah Palin, R-AK), a witch (Christine O’Donnell, R-DE) and a whore (Meg Whitman R-CA).  Now all we need to do is hold open auditions for a bitch and a slut and that pretty much completes our cast for the new play “Adventures in Misogyny Land: But it’s okay because these women are Republicans”.

With the uncovering of Jerry Brown’s audio tape where one of his staff members calls his gubernatorial challenger a “whore”, conservatives held their collective breath waiting for the feminist mother ship NOW to speak out.  Sorry conservatives, it did not work when you tried it on your mothers in the toy department and it won’t t work now.  Blue is not a very good color on you so you might as well exhale.

Hmmm, wonder if he thinks the “whore” is articulate and does not speak Negro dialect?

Gee, that was dismissive. Sure whore, sorry whore.  He also thinks that whores should not have mammograms.

Yes a mammogram does hurt, but as a Republican woman AKA “whore,” I think I am entitled to one.

Autographed Letter Signed,



Jerry Brown Camp Calls Meg Whitman a “Whore” October 8, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — afrocity @ 9:40 PM
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As usual, the political party that claims to be all for women proves that it is NOT.

Democrats…No class…all ass.


September 11th- Nine Years Later September 11, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — afrocity @ 1:18 PM
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I almost did not author a post today- it is very difficult for me.  I lived in New York City during 9/11 and vividly recall the events of the day.  I could not get home that day but I was fortunate. Many would go to their ultimate home in heaven.  Later, their faces were plastered all over the city as if the Twin Towers were one giant milk carton of missing children- God’s children.

When I reflect on what was probably one of  the worst days of my life, anger overcomes me.  Anger at the actual attack, anger that this vile act was committed in the name of religion, and anger at the staggering amount of “truther” moonbats who attempt to violate our feelings with such rubbish.

They should be ashamed of themselves.

While watching the FOX News Timeline broadcast of the events, my body shuddered.  It was impossible for me to watch the recap without feeling in the moment.

Barack Obama wants me to be tolerant.  He wants me to accept that the Ground Zero Mosque will be built- that my support of it will show that I respect all religious views. That my support of Islam  will reveal that  I am a true American- that is staying true to my American traditions in Obama’s view.

I say to President Barack Obama, you have no right to tell me what my actions as a “traditional American” should be.  You did not live in New York City as I did.

You were never there physically or spiritually.

After 9/11 2001,  I had a American flag pin and wore it to show my support for America.  I always had American paraphernalia even before 9/11.  Yes, it slightly troubled me that it took an event as horrific as the destruction of the World Trade Center to move many Americans to wear a flag pin or place a flag in the long forgotten flag base on their Brooklyn brownstone.  But at least the event made them aware of the need for unity…AMONG AMERICANS.

Americans know where their loyalties lie. Do you Mr. President?

Understand, that I do not care what religion our president is be it Christian, Jewish, Buddhist …But he or she had better serve this country by making it clear that they are on the American side. I am tolerant of other religions. I consider myself spiritual. I do not have a church home but I pray daily and attempt to lead a Christian life.  I respect others and try to bring a positive contribution to my country by being a law abiding and productive citizen.

America makes my freedom possible.  The least I can do is support the constitution, espouse to American values and wear a flag pin.

The people who lived through September 11th, did not say this about the American flag as Obama did:

That was enough for me to see.

God Bless America and keep us safe.  Never forget the people who were lost on that day.  Never forget who our enemies are and God bless our troops.

Autographed Letter Signed,



Liberal Summer Film Fest : Eat Lobster, Love, Pray August 31, 2010

Luncheon in Fur

In a recent post, I wrote about my intense dislike for bullshit. My writings also described the obviously millions of Americans who revel in its sustenance when it comes to any fantasy fulfilling pill to swallow from President Barack Obama.

I am mindful that the president is well liked.

I am mindful that for many, this man represents what was previously thought to be unobtainable.The forty acres and a mule has arrived. Rejoice! The African American standard has been raised.   We can all eat lobster now- that is if you can afford it.

From this post at the White House Dossier:

Obamas Depleting U.S. Lobster Supply

Keith Koffler 

August 25, 2010

So how much lobster are you having during these precarious economic times? What? You’ve had to cut back? No longer ordering it stuffed with crab meat, at least?

Well, if you happen to be the President of the United States or the First Lady, your lobster consumption is continuing at a robust pace.

Yes, the economy is still getting battered. And Tuesday night,  so was President Obama’s lobster.

According to ABC’s Jake Tapper, the president  savored some lobster tempura  at the trendy State Road Restaurant in West Tisbury on Martha’s Vineyard. Oh, just the thought of it. If he brings some back to the White House for me, I’ll write whatever he wants.

Monday night at The Sweet Life Cafe in Oak Bluffs on the Vineyard it was the lobster pasta appetizer for the president and a surf and turf entrée – the “surf” being a lobster tail – for Mrs. Obama.

And what would the vacation to Maine in July have been without a taste of everyone’s favorite crustacean. The president did it in a little less genteel fashion that time, heading over to something called Stewman’s Downtown restaurant where he was served the “Lobster Experience” dinner – just regular lobster, corn and slaw.

But the Obamas’ lobster experience is not confined to these shores. Michelle Obama was barely off the plane during her voyage early this month to the Spanish Riviera when, according to the Spanish press, she dived into a feast of sea bass tartare, strawberry gazpacho and sardines, and a main course of lobster with seaweed risotto.

Michelle enjoyed the repast so much that she was right back at it on  August 14 during the Obamas’ two-day Panama City, Fla photo-op vacation. There, at the Firefly restaurant, it was more lobster for Michelle.

Let Them Eat Lobster!!!

Yes again, congratulations  Mr. and Mrs. President on raising the cuisine bar for blacks. We have finally made it to the top.

African Americans and seafood is an inside joke among us brothers and sisters.   When I was in college for a date if a guy really wants to impress a woman he would take her to Red Lobster.  Shrimp, crab, lobster, are all pretty expensive for a family on a budget- even more so if you are a struggling black college student.

Hearing language in the vein of  “Man, I ain’t taking her all out to get no lobster or anything…she ain’t all that!”

Or if you are a young woman like one classmate of mine :

” Shoot as good as I looking tonight that negro had better take me to get some snow crab and lobster. I just got my hair did and looking tight… “

was not uncommon.

Red Lobster is like the pleasure dome of culinary venues for many.  Cheddar biscuit and all you can eat heaven.

From Urban Dictionary:

red lobster

Often reffered[sic] to as “ghetto seafood”.

A place where rednecks, uneducated, ghetto, and often illiterate people go on special occasions, birthdays, aniversarries [sic], weddings. Redlobster is a restaurant which specializes in serving food to the lower portion of society which is why they serve what customers reffer to as, “fried skrimps” with “smashed pertaters”. If fathers day is the most confusing holiday for you, or if your entire extended family consists of five people which live in the same double-wide, your favorite restaurant is most likely red lobster.
“Hey hunny happy aniverarry were going to red lobster!!!”

AP Photo/Rick Bowmer, File

Because dining out is a cultural event in some circles, I was not one bit shocked to hear the following on a Chicago bus recently:

“Obama is all up in that White House mutha eating lobster and steaks, brutha eating good like a black boy should,” laughed the older African American male in his mid to late fifties.

His companion also a black male, of about the same age chuckled along with him and added,  “Man I’d be eating lobster all damn day too if I was president…Ni–ga will kill for some lobster now…gotta wait for someone to die n’ shit before you can get some lobster…”

After this important  topic, the men then began a conversation about  a subject that was more serious and pertinent to the woes of African Americans in Chicago.  Apparently  they knew  a friend’s son  that was killed by random gunfire.  Not surpising seeing as how 300 people were shot in Chicago during the month of July:

From this story in the Chicago Tribune

303 people shot in July

By Annie Sweeney, Jeremy Gorner and Joe Germuska  August 21, 2010

…More than 300 people were shot in Chicago last month. At least 33 of them have died.

Some victims made headlines, like 13-year-old Robert Freeman Jr., who was fatally shot on his block while hanging out with friends. The city paused when two Chicago police officers — Michael Bailey and Thor Soderberg — were gunned down in uniform within weeks of each other.

But many more victims of shootings in July — historically among the city’s most dangerous months — suffered unnoticed by the rest of the city.

Crime has been holding steady in Chicago in recent years. Through July, there have been 1,089 shootings in the city, a 2.4 percent decrease over last year. This July, police counted 221 shooting incidents, compared with 229 in July 2009. A review of seven years worth of shootings showed similar numbers.

In other words, this was a typical July.

The Chicago Police Department declined to provide the number of shooting victims in July or comment about the month’s shooting tally. But a Tribune analysis of reported shootings, based on logs kept by police and reporting by the Tribune, counted 303 people who were injured in shootings last month.

The Tribune’s analysis showed that shootings occurred in predictable places — the Far South Side and West Side, for instance, where violence has been a pervasive problem for decades. It also showed how a bullet — even one that doesn’t kill — pierced a path of destruction in victims, families and the neighborhoods where they live.

So great! President Obama and his First Lady can live the Great American Lobster Fest!!

Now does this mean that his supporters must continue remain totally blind to the incompetency of the Obama administration?

Do you have to aid and abet an empty suit government?  Can you continue to ignore the complete and utterly blatant absence of checks and balances when it comes to the passage of” Obamalawz ” ?  Healthcare …executive orders,  immigration? Does this mean that you have not checked your bank balances recently?

Is there a lobster in every pot or just water stew with a few leaves of arugula floating around in it?

And yes in full disclosure- I have dined on lobster this summer. Jewel Foodstore had a sale on lobster tails at $6.99 each.  I bought two lobster tails.  $14 splurge for Afrocity and the next day I ate spaghetti with Ragu sauce for dinner and Beenie Weenies for lunch  to make up for it.

For liberals, the rich and  Christian conservatives are the wrongdoers.

I mentioned in many of my posts that liberals adore being victims and I will admit here that some are.  However, the people doing the fighting for the victims, are far from being victims and many of them never were victims. Not then, not when you voted for them because they “got you” and certainly not now.  They need victims in order to be elected. Once elected,  you stay a victim while they spoon our tax dollars down their throats.

They eat lobster while you eat that Hope n’ Change cake.

Mmmmm good huh?  Tastes like air.

Of all political ideologies liberalism, according to Democrats, is the most caring.


Did you know that in 2007  Sarah Palin gave more to charity than Obama and Joe Biden combined?  She also made less money than the then DNC high office nominees.  Much fodder was made out of Sarah Palin’s RNC bought wardrobe.  Debate encircled the Alaskan VP candidate and her choice of make-up, clothes, shoes, Kmart pampers.

“Sarah is so out of touch with American people,” a liberal acquaintance told me. ” She is so provincial. Big house, all of these kids…In Huffpo it was reported that she cost the state of Alaska millions in travel fees to cart around those brats and her snow ski bunny husband…They say she has a tanning bed in her house. IN HER HOUSE!!!”

You are probably wondering what Afrocity was doing at this point in the conversation.


My friend’s Palin hate was on autopilot. There was no stopping her and in fact, I took some sort of sick twisted tingle up my leg joy while watching her.

While bemoaning Sarah’s tanning bed, my friend never once mentioned Barack Obama’s discounted mob assisted mansion-ish purchase.  Not one word about First Lady, Michelle Obama’s Lanvin $565 tennis shoes, or her shopping sprees at Ikram (an upscale Chicago designer boutique).

Michelle Obama in her groovy $500 plus Lanvin shoes

$500 shoes worn to a charity event during a recession?

But somehow  in the eye’s of his adoring supporters,  the Obama’s are in touch with the American People.  Sure they are in touch with the American people…All of the American people  who attended Ivy League schools and were raised in Hawaii, and now live in mansions.  Class warfare on the part of liberals is like Wag the Dog.  Outsiders to limousine liberals do not understand this.  In contrast to Republicans  who don’t openly preach disdain for those who have, the liberal power brokers preach sacrifice and cry victim while secretly going home to maids, private schooling for their children, and obviously lobster, lobster and more lobster.

The truth is, in order to get things like universal health care and a revamped education system, then someone is going to have to give up a piece of their pie so that someone else can have more. ” —Michelle Obama

I will give up my piece of the pie Michelle,  but only if you promise to give up your lobster.
Autographed Letter Signed,