Wow, He Can Draw Toooo!!!!

Barack Obama can draw pretty well. He drew this "doodle" for Neurofibromatosis, Inc., a charity organization that auctions celebrity doodles on Ebay to raise money. This doodle was done by President-elect Obama in April 2007 while he was running for the presidency. He made this "doodle" specifically for the organization and it set a record for the highest sale of a celebrity doodle. It sold for $2,025.

He is by no means a Picasso or Rembrandt but he draws like everything else he does - with clarity, charm, and a simple humility.

From left to right, Obama has sketched Senators Chuck Schumer, Harry Reid, Dianne Feinstein and Edward Kennedy in Senate chambers.

I only have one problem with this sketch and I can't really say why but those columns in the background have got to go!!

Victor Lematt Brown Died on October 6, 2003

"Oh call it by another name, for friendship sounds too cold." - Thomas Moore

I wish there was some way I could bring you back to life, old friend. If I were a sculptress, I would sculpt a statue of you. If I were a painter, I would paint your portrait. But all I know how to do is write and that's the only way I can bring you back to me but only for a little while.

For to write about you is to think about you and to think about you makes me very happy. But I can only think about you in short moments because if I think too long then I realize that you're gone and then my heart slows down.

Sometimes, I get selfish and say I'm never going to think about you again so I won't feel the hurt of your absence from my life, the hurt of knowing that I will never hear your voice, never have another conversation with you, its unbearable to think about for too long.

But even if I tried, I know I could never stop thinking about you. You pop into my mind at least once a day and there isn't an amazing thing that goes by that I dont think "wait until I tell Victor about this," only to realize in that same moment that I can't, that those days are long gone and they left with you.

Truly, I never want to forget about you, you meant so much to me, and even in my very old age (you know I plan on living to at least a hundred) I want all of my memories of you to be fresh, organized and complete. So this is your portrait, my beloved friend, all of my memories of you recorded so that some nice young church volunteer can read this to me as I'm rocking in my rocking chair and sipping on a margarita in the year 2067:

Victor Brown, A Portrait

Victor Brown was my very best friend, male or female, he was also his father's pride and joy, his mother's crowning glory and his sister's constant hero. He stood 5'6", a small-sized man, but his body was in perfect proportion and rippled with muscles. In the beginning, when he was trying to seduce me, he would take off his shirt and show me his chest and arms and I'd admire how beautiful his body was and it was.

I always thought even though he was a little guy, he could be a model in those muscle magazines because he stayed ripped and since he was so perfectly proportioned a picture of him alone wouldn't show he was short. We talked about his shortness and the Napoleon complex some short men have. He told me of the times brothas tried to intimidate him or women insulted him and how he responded or rather didn't respond. He always credited his years of studying tae kwon do for the confidence and restraint he possessed. Not only that, Victor knew the streets and he had a lot of street charm. One time, I saw a big fat woman call Victor a "short motha-fucka" because he was trying to pass her and he just said "I love you too, baby."

Victor was an attorney and when he passed the bar exam his father, who was raised by his grandmother who had been a slave, had a huge banner made that said "Victor Brown, Esquire" and he hung it on one of his apartment buildings. His father, John Albert Brown, was a stern man who worked for the post office for a zillion years and invested his money in east side apartment buildings and duplexes.

Victor said that his dad told him that his grandmother (Victors great-grandma) was raised in slavery and when she punished him she would tie his hands to a limb on a tree and whip him on the back with a belt, just like she saw the slaves being whipped in her girlhood.

I guess those whippings took effect because Mr. Brown never drank, smoked or womanized. Nor did he whip Victor or Victor's sister. Mr. Brown was married to the same woman for forty years, worked at the same job for just about as long, and gave his kids everything they wanted, only never with a smile. Victor said that when he saw that banner it brought tears to his eyes because he finally knew how proud his father was of him.

To be continued.....

Pfc. LaVena Johnson

In July 2005, 19-year-old Johnson became the first female soldier from Missouri to die in Iraq. She was found with a broken nose, black eye and loose teeth, acid burns on her genitals, presumably to eliminate DNA evidence of rape, a trail of blood leading away from her tent and a bullet hole in her head. Unbelievably, that's not the most horrifying part of the story. Here's what is: Army investigators ruled her death a suicide.

Beyond the obvious evidence of abuse, there was no sign of depression or suicidal ideation in Johnson's psychological profile. The bullet wound was in the wrong place for her to have shot herself with her dominant hand, and the exit wound was the wrong size to have come from her own M-16, as the Army suggested it did. The blatant lie the military has tried to sell Johnson's family is on a par with the cover-up surrounding football star Pat Tillman's 2004 death in a friendly fire incident. Unlike Tillman's widely reported story, however, outside the blogosphere -- where writers like Philip Barron have worked tirelessly to keep Johnson's name in the spotlight -- the LaVena Johnson case has rarely been noted. In July 2005, 19-year-old Johnson became the first female soldier from Missouri to die in Iraq. She was found with a broken nose, black eye and loose teeth, acid burns on her genitals, presumably to eliminate DNA evidence of rape, a trail of blood leading away from her tent and a bullet hole in her head. Unbelievably, that's not the most horrifying part of the story. Here's what is: Army investigators ruled her death a suicide.

Beyond the obvious evidence of abuse, there was no sign of depression or suicidal ideation in Johnson's psychological profile. The bullet wound was in the wrong place for her to have shot herself with her dominant hand, and the exit wound was the wrong size to have come from her own M-16, as the Army suggested it did. The blatant lie the military has tried to sell Johnson's family is on a par with the cover-up surrounding football star Pat Tillman's 2004 death in a friendly fire incident. Unlike Tillman's widely reported story, however, outside the blogosphere -- where writers like Philip Barron have worked tirelessly to keep Johnson's name in the spotlight -- the LaVena Johnson case has rarely been noted.

source

Compton's Finest

I love these women right here. I love them for so many reasons. I love them for their talent. I love them for their lack of arrogance. I love them for their work ethic. I love them for their clean living. I love them for their soft-spokeness. I love them for their lack of drama. I love them for their drama on the tennis court. I love them for their strength. I love them for being able to kick butt wearing long swinging earrings. I love them for being smart with their money. I love them for their quiet confidence. I love them for designing their own flattering tennis oufits.

I Hate New York

I hate New York, not the state, not the city but the person, Tiffany Pollard of "I Love New York" infamy. I hate her trashy personality. I hate her persona of being a "bad bitch" who takes no prisoners. I hate her because of her ignorant and profane conversation. I hate her because she smokes at the dinner table. I hate her because she lifts her dress to show her vagina when she wants to insult someone. I hate her because she's proud of having sex with Flava Flav. I hate her for constantly taking the low road. I hate her for craving attention and fame so badly she couldn't give a damn about self-respect.

Things Aren't Always as They Seem, Pt. 3, "I Fear No Bitch"

Now, for the young woman who was arrested and charged with the murder of Shontae Blanche, a 23 year-old pregnant woman, killed during a melee in South Los Angeles (aka South-Central):

Unique Kiana Bishop At the age of 19 she was a convicted burglar, at age 20 she had a baby boy by a man who is in prison, at 21 she was on probation, and at 22 she was charged with two counts of murder with bail set at $1 million.

Here are a few words from Ms. Bishop herself:

“I fear no bitch and can give a fuck about a nigga. I just try to stay to myself and do me because in the end I’m all I got anyway. Bitches and niggas I don’t trust so I smoke by myself, drink by myself. Fuck these niggas by my got damn self for real. But besides the BS I take care of my 1 year-old son named Anthony. He is the most important thing to me, he is the only man in my life beside my BF, Lil 22. The sex is amazing and I love the way he kisses and licks my face when he shows affection. I just can’t get him off my mind. He is locked up and they’re not letting him out so until he comes home, I’m going to hold it down, me, myself and I.” Unique Bishop, MySpace. (edited for readability)

I guess you could say that Unique is the quintessential hoodrat.

“Bishop has been convicted twice of burglary and once of petty theft in the last two years, police said. Her latest conviction came after a July 26 arrest for burglary in South Los Angeles. She spent 14 days in jail and was placed on probation after being convicted in the Norwalk branch of Los Angeles County Superior Court.” Los Angeles Times .

Unique is the exact opposite of Shontae. Shontae was popular, Unique is a loner (and as her words show, a loner with a huge chip on her shoulder). Shontae was attending college, Unique didn’t graduate from high school. Shontae had a job, Unique was stealing. Shontae wanted to be a probation officer, Unique was on probation. The two things they did have in common were that they lived in the same neighborhood and the loves of their lives were in prison or jail.
Here’s what the bloggers had to say about Unique:

“…if it is the Unique i knew in middle school, she was heading in this direction, always in trouble in school and her mother always backed up her wrong doing, ie. cussing out the principal and the campus security and the school police……i told her mother that one day this girl is going to hurt you really bad, and my god here it is, just wish it wasn’t this way, i pray for the family may the young lady and her baby rest in our savior's arms.” Posted by: Dorite , November 8, 2007

"I knew Unique. Went to middle school and high school with her. I don’t put it past her that she would do something like this. Although even in high school she had her own demons to deal with. Maybe if she had gotten help, this tragedy wouldn’t have happened.” Posted by: Shay, December 20, 2007

It's safe to say that Unique had some heavy karma coming her way.

To be continued.......

Rich Woman's Feet

No, these are not the feet of a cadaver, these feet belong to the richest woman in the world.She has complained about her bunions on her show but this is just downright ridiculous. Hasn't Oprah heard about bunion surgery? And why are her feet so ashy? And what's up with the long toe nails? With feet like that she should never, ever, go barefoot. I can only imagine what the bottom of her feet are like.

This reminds of the time I shook hands with Oprah. This was when she was into exercising and losing weight (which turned out to be just a phase) and held a short run at Griffith Park. Afterwards she shook hands with all the participants. She stood on a podium and each one us went up to the podium and shook her hand. I was surprised because her hand felt like sandpaper, the real rough grade. Maybe she's allergic to lotion.



Not only does she has the all-so-common big toe bunion, she even has a "tailor's" bunion which is located at the joint at the base of the smallest (fifth) toe. This has bloggers thinking she has six toes.

"In your face, people!"

I guess when you're the richest woman in the world you just don't give a bleep how your feet look or what people think about them.