Blackhumouristpress's Blog

November 23, 2010

God’s Acre or The Known Unknowns

            There is a town just south and west of Chicago called Plainfield that now in the age of interstates and suburban sprawl, is considered a suburb even though it is some forty miles from Chicago.  The population has tripled in size since 1990 and could quadruple past the current population in the year 2030 when the whole world will quadruple and there will be fewer resources, less land and a lot more ocean. 

            The first Europeans to settle the area proselytized to Pottawatomie Indians about Jesus and god and salvation and all and then wound up with the land which was eventually taken by the state.  Fast forward to the year 1990 and Jed was given a gift by his paternal grandparents of a trailer in a new development for mobile homes called of all things, God’s acre.

            Someone who was familiar with Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, dubbed the park God’s Acre after one of Longfellow’s poems. The developer knew that the land before the mobile home park was a dump site and before that, a Pottawatomie burial ground.  A sign out in front of the mobile home park read:

God’s Acre- This is the field and acre of our god

            The phrase rang well to those who loved and feared god equally and so the developer was able to corral moralists, evangelists and Methodists into buying mobile homes in his Plainfield park of God’s acre. 

The opportunist that had developed the land for a mobile home park had a good cash flow but had bad assets other places that went belly up.  Robbing Peter to pay Paul and Mary, no longer worked and so the land that the homes rested upon went into foreclosure and the entire park

was bought up by a new entity that was a holding company from North Dakota.  A representative came for the closing and then got back quickly to Fargo. 

Now Jed was in arrears on his assessment by some eighteen months.  Jed squandered his disability check at a casino one month and could not pay his assessment.  No letters or calls ever came.  Another month passed and then several more and nobody had ever inquired as to where his assessment was and when it could be expected.  When the Fargo based company bought up the land, they hired an attorney to re-coup debts.  Jed found that he could lose the only thing he owned besides a beat up American Motors Eagle circa 1985 with faux wood and looked to be jacked up but really was designed that way.  The mobile home and car were both gifts from his paternal grandparents.  God bless them.

Jed went to court and was assigned an attorney who represented him the best he could but the reality was that Jed was going to lose his mobile home due to back assessments that he could not pay.  The court was giving him just two weeks to come up with the money or lose his property. 

Jed sat watching the Detroit Lions lose on Thanksgiving Day while he ate a processed turkey breast in gravy that was high in sodium but was really tasty and juicy.  Jed sat watching the game on his television that was about to die as he drank vodka straight from the bottle in hopes that he would get sleepy.  Sleep never came and it had been several days since Jed had any sleep.  Jed was drunk and unable to sleep but in his drunken state, he got the idea to take an over the counter sleep aid to help him sleep.  The sleep aid with nearly a fifth of hard liquor put Jed on the fence between life and death.  While Jed road that fence, he had a vision.  Down from the heavens floated down a beautiful figure in a red and white bikini top and blue bottoms with white stars.  Fifty stars in all.  The beautiful figure wore glasses and held a bolt action rifle as she floated to the ground.  She walked towards Jed who was out on his back porch smoking a cigarette.  Jed was so astounded that he couldn’t speak.  The heavenly figure in the bikini with the bolt action rifle spoke instead.

“Jedidiah…  Do you want to lose this palace?  Do you want to lose what makes the American dream a dream?  A man is a king and this is your kingdom…  What are you prepared to do?”

Jed stuttered as he asked the figure if she was possibly Sarah Palin.

“I am who you think I am, Jedidiah…  I know that you masturbate to pictures of me that really are not me but a Photoshop photo and that’s okay…  We have all sinned.  I am here to ask you what it is that you believe in.  What do you want out of life?  What makes you happy?  What do you feel is possible given your limitations and poor health?”

“I… I don’t know.”

The beautiful figure pushed her glasses back while smiling and never releasing her finger from the trigger of the bolt action rifle.  She bent down and whispered to Jed words of wisdom that Donald Rumsfeld had once spoken before her.  It may have been plagiarism or just a tribute to a man who understood god’s plan and the thrill of war.

“Jedidiah…  As we know, there are known knowns.  There are the things we know we know.  We also know there are known unknowns.  That is to say we know there are things we don’t know.  But there are also unknown unknowns, the ones we don’t know we don’t know…  Do you understand?”  Asked the angelic figure.

“You mean like god and taxes and stuff like that?”

“I’m not entirely sure either but I guess what I’m saying is that you have to know what it is that you can do to help the situation at hand.  You can’t just up and join the military…  You’re too old, too fat and too lazy.  What do you know that you know you can do and know that it will work beyond a shadow of a doubt?”

The figure began to rise and she waved and blew a kiss to Jed as he waved back and smiled.  Jed came to on the floor of his mobile home.  His dog was eating his vomit and a grunting man was doing abdomen exercises on television with a device that looked like a large IUD. The next commercial was for a pay per view wrestling smack down of several oiled up men with long hair and tights.  The light suddenly went on in Jed’s foggy head.  Jed felt reassured, hopeful and energized.  He sat up and took a deep breath and exclaimed out loud while his dog licked the remnants of his spew.

“This life is really wonderful…”

Jed sent out invitations to all his friends on Facebook that there was going to be a showdown of showdowns.  The Mexican Luchadores against the American heroes.  People from all over came to see two fat Mexicans in masks take on two fat Americans in wigs.  They hit one another with chairs, tables, watermelons and pulled hair and elbowed one another.  When the dust cleared, Jed had enough money to pay the back assessment and his three friends who believed in what Jed knew to be true; stupidity knows what it knows as well as the unknown.

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November 10, 2010

The Milosevic Twins or To Sing Like Ethel Merman

Filed under: Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 9:31 pm
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                The Milosevic Twins decided after the Yugoslavian War,  to get rid of their last name after Slobodan created all sorts of problems, issues, wars, slaughter and so forth in their former homeland.  The Twins weren’t even Serbian.  They had some officials back in the day of Tito and Communism; change everyone’s name to Milosevic.  A village of five thousand plus people and every last name in the phone book was Milosevic.

                The Milos Twins had lost their jobs as laborers after the fall of Communism.  During the war, they joined a militia that hunted Serbian soldiers.  Their job was to kill humans and try to stay alive.  During days of extreme heat and extreme cold, the twins killed, raped and pillaged while being exposed to the elements.  They had a cousin in Detroit who knew a rich Jewish man who made all his money on coin operated machines and needed a crew to take care of a neglected apartment building he owned near 8 Mile Road.  Detroit sounded like paradise compared to the remnants of what was once Yugoslavia and so they took off for Detroit.

                The building happened to be on the south end of 8 Mile on the Detroit side of the road.  When they arrived, the bricks were missing mortar, the roof was leaking badly, the heating system sputtered and often left tenants without heat, the plumbing didn’t plumb and so forth.   The building was surrounded by burned out and abandon homes.  At the end of the street was an all purpose mini market to buy all you need to get by on at an inflated price.  Detroit had a lot of open space and the twins liked that.

 Out of the twenty two tenants, only a handful was paying rent and those were Section 8 tenants.  Mr. Rosenblatt was very relieved to have the Milos Twins.  They were tall and lean with sandy colored hair and they weren’t afraid of anything.  Before long, they had the building back in order and rents were being paid.  Toilets flushed and money went in the bank and pocket of Mr. Rosenblatt.

One day Edo and Edin or Ed and Eddy, received an angry phone message from a woman in one of the units of the building.   What Ed and Eddy knew of the woman was that she was about forty years old, ghostly white, thin to the point of being emaciated, lived alone and her father paid her rent in cash once a month.  A bus from Detroit Mercy would pick her up once a week and other than that, the woman kept to herself.  The twins surmised that she was hopped up on medication and so they didn’t give much credence to the bizarre message.

“Ed and Eddy…  DON’T PLAY FUCKING GAMES WITH ME!  I CAME HOME TO FIND THE GOD DAMN DISNEY CHANNEL ON A HUGE TURD IN MY TOILET…  NO TOILET PAPER AND NOT EVEN THE DECENCY TO FLUSH THE TOILET.  I AM MISSING MAIL AND JEWERLY…  I HAVE CALLED THE DETROIT POLICE.  I DEMAND MY JEWELRY BACK IMMEDIATELY AND WANT A LOCKSMITH TO CHANGE MY FUCKING LOCKS… Thank you.”

Two plain clothes detectives came to the door to ask Ed and Eddy some questions inside their apartment that was very bare.  The two black cops sat as Ed brought in some tea with some tasty little cookies from their country.  European teams were playing soccer on their television.  The two cops wondered what kind of men who are brothers, live together in a bad part of Detroit.  The cops marveled at how much the two men looked alike, sounded alike, gestured alike and laughed alike.  Ike, the former Michigan State lineman spoke first.

“Boys…  We been getting strange phone calls from a Miss Daphne Dumont.  She says you’re eating her food, using her toilet, stealing her belongings and so forth.  Now we understand she lives right above your unit.  We have come by on several occasions to speak with her and we are finding nobody home.  We have traced the phone calls to a land line within that unit but whenever we come out, there is no answer.  Can you tell us what you know?”

Ed and Eddy looked at one another and blinked hard.  They both took a sip of their tea, shook their heads simultaneously and then started speaking.  It was like old Rap tunes of the past.  One would begin a sentence and the other would finish it, complete with hand gestures.

“Something ain’t right, Mr. Officers…” said Ed.

“No ain’t right at all…” said Eddy.

“She runs around all night up above us…”said Ed.

“And listens to music from old movies…” Said Eddy.

“Oh Yeah…  She likes Annie get your Gun, Brigadoon, seven brothers and some brides or something… She likes all of them…” Said Ed.

“Yeah and we caught her taking a shit in the laundry room.  We got it on tape…” Said Eddy.

“Oh yeah…  We can play it for you.  We set up a camera to catch whoever it was who was shitting everyday on the floor.  It was like a horse pile…” Said Ed.

“Just like an animal but it smelled of spices mostly…” Said Eddy.

“Yeah and we notice that she cooks with the same spices… Eddy, put on the tape for the officers.” Said Ed.

The two police officers and the twins watched the closed caption video of their upstairs neighbor.  She wore a trench coat and boots one might wear to go fly fishing in a stream.  The boots came up to her thighs.  The men all commented on how large her breasts were for such a thin woman and the Afro-like pubic hair that surrounded her vagina.  None of the men were particularly turned on by the site of a squatting woman singing, “Happy Talk” from South Pacific while feces streamed like soft serve from her person.  Tremaine, the second officer grasped his mouth and was about to vomit.  Both officers asked the twins to turn off the film.

The phone calls to Ed and Eddy and the Detroit Police never stopped.  All involved began to ignore the calls until the day that Ed called Officer Ike on his cell phone.  Ed and Eddy had come in for lunch and found water streaming down the walls of their unit.  Westside Story was blaring out of the surround sound and water poured out of light sockets and cracks in the ceiling.  The two officers on the case hurried over and authorized the twins to force the door open.  They could hear Ms. Dumont singing like Ethel Merman at the top of her lungs.  Her pitch was not what it should have been but that isn’t what concerned the quartet.  Daphne sung, Officer Krupke as the door was forced open, sending three feet high water streaming down the hallway.  Daphne stood on the couch, singing into a wooden spoon.  She wore pink boots with Hello Kitty logos on both sides.  She was completely naked except the boots and happened to have been missing her nose which was removed due to cancer.  The men were nearly over come by the smell of urine and feces.  It was not unlike visiting the monkey house on a hot humid day.  Without any air conditioning. 

“Gee, Officer Krupke,
We’re down on our knees,
‘Cause no one wants a fellow with a social disease.
Gee, Officer Krupke,
What are we to do?
Gee, Officer Krupke,
Krup you!”

November 3, 2010

A Mother on the Edge or I Ain’t Sayin She’s a Goldiggah

Filed under: Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 6:32 pm
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My dearest family,
First off I would thank you for your caring and concern.  Yes, I took the chance to take a trip without Tim and after 10 precious months of sobriety he faltered. I’m sure each of you who care is asking, how I reacted when I reached home.
(Translation: THANKS FOR YOUR HOSPITALITY ON SUCH SHORT NOTICE.  AFTER TEN MONTHS OF CONSTANT BABYSITTING, I LEFT FOR A SABBATICAL AND RETURNED TO FIND THAT LATENT HOMOSEXUALITY AND ALCOHOLISM HAS RESURFACED LIKE A SEA MONSTER.)
 
I had no idea what I would say, do, or think.  I do know that I was raw, ripped apart, and left for dead emotionally. The only thing that kept my mind, heart and mind from exploding was PRAYER!  There is not much you can say to a drunken person, if you lash out it only wounds their already self-hating soul, it may give the person lashing out a brief moment of release, but the words can’t be taken back. (Translation: I CAME HOME TO FIND THAT CAPTAIN MORGAN HAS ONCE AGAIN RANSACKED MY HOME.  I CAN ONLY PRAY THAT MY PHONE BILL WILL NOT BE CLOSE TO A GRAND AGAIN FOR 1-900 GUYSLOVE.  SPEAKING OR RAW AND RIPPED, HOW MANY TIMES CAN A MIDDLE AGED MAN MASTERBATE AND WHY CAN’T HE AT LEAST PULL HIS GODDAMN PANTS BACK UP?  FOR FUCK’S SAKE.)
 
As I sat across the room from this shell of a human being I once loved so dearly my heart cracked with pity and compassion. I prayed again silently, asking that the Holy Spirit would guide my words and help control my own feelings for the sake of this sad creature.  The words came, and they were calm and just and clear…it was as if I had left and someone else had stepped into my being. (TRANSLATION: I ASKED MYSELF WHAT IT IS THAT OPRAH WOULD DO OR SUGGEST I DO VIA SOME THERAPIST DU JOUR. I JUST RETURNED FROM MEETING AN OLD FLAME FROM HIGH SCHOOL THAT HAS AN INDOOR JACUZZI AND POOL.  HE IS GOING TO RETIRE IN A FEW YEARS AND NEEDS SOMEONE TO HELP HIM SPEND ALL THAT MONEY.  I CAN ONLY PRAY THAT HE WILL NOT CHANGE HIS MIND.  THANK GOD I STILL HAVE SOME SEX APPEAL LEFT…  LOOK AT THIS PATHETIC FUCK.  I SHOULD KICK HIM SQUARE IN THE ASS.)
 
At this time I have set up counseling sessions to help guide me to a choice I know I have to make. I ask that you keep me and Tim in your good thoughts and prayers so that this choice, when it comes will be less painful and that the wounds heal quickly. Until I choose a direction in this matter, I will continue to be strong in my resolve to do the best.  I ask patience from those I know love me as mother, and friend and help me when I feel like I’m going to die inside from having to do what will save me and hurt another. (TRANSLATION: LOOK, THIS IS MY FIFTH MARRIAGE. A DIVORCE IS NOTHING MORE THAN A FIRE DRILL AT THIS POINT… AND ALTHOUGH THE LEGALITY OF SPLITTING EVERYTHING REALLY SUCKS AND I JUST WIND UP MAKING SOME YOUNG ATTORNEY WEALTHY, IT HAS TO HAPPEN SOON.  I KNOW A THERAPIST WHO WILL SAY ALL THE RIGHT THINGS SO THAT THIS CREATURE UNDERSTANDS HE’S JUST A DRAIN ON MY LIFE AND THAT I’M JUSTIFIED IN WALKING AWAY WHILE I STILL HAVE OPTIONS.)
 
I love each of you and again thank you in advance for your support, understanding and comfort. I too wish I could blink and all would be resolved and behind me, but life does not work that way.  Everything is possible with GOD and with the good will we have within each of us to do things right. (TRANSLATION: I LEARNED FROM MY MENONITE/BORN AGAIN DAUGHTER, THAT USING GOD AS A CRUTCH FOR EVERYTHING ABSOLVES YOU QUITE A BIT.  JUST SAY, I PRAYED ABOUT THIS AND GOD WANTS ME TO LEAVE YOU… AND THEN TAKE HALF. AMEN.)
 
I hesitate to pick up the phone and talk right now, I can’t talk…I have this horrible knot in my stomach and heart. I know you understand. This to me is like a very slow death, I dread the funeral. (TRANSLATION: I ACTUALLY CALLED TWO OF MY THREE CHIDREN AND GOT VOICE MAIL.  THAT’S WHY I DECIDED TO WRITE YOU THIS WHILE DRINKING A GLASS OF WINE.  ACTUALLY TWO.  I HAVE TO REMEMBER TO CALL MY ATTORNEY IN THE MORNING TO GET THIS ALL GOING.)
 
My love and blessings to all,
 
Mommy
 

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