"So what am I supposed to do? Wish that the information is the truth?" I asked.
"Well, most of the information is correct over the internet, but you have to fact check to really be sure," Robin said.
"Shit man! I remember the time when all you had to do was to open up the 'Encyclopedia Britannica' or go to the library and poof, instant truth," I responded.
"And that's the problem Blake. At least given your scenario there was something called fact checking. Now, people are just Googling for God's sake and hoping for the best, unbeknownst to them," Robin said gesticulating all over the place.
"I hear you. But damn, right now that's the best that we've got," I said.
"Well, that's the problem too. Everyone is getting lazy. Just type in something and read Wikipedia or some shit; because everybody knows that if it is on the Internet it is the truth! My God!," Robin said.
"Welcome to the set-up Robin! But we let them do this to us," I said.
"And that's the pisser Blake!" Robin said beside himself.
(...to be continued)
Friday, April 10, 2015
Thursday, April 9, 2015
I'm Just His Coach God Damn It! (Head Coach, Billy Blades, Indianapolis, Indiana) 2011
So we lost. No doubt about that! Shit no! Got our asses handed to us in a big mothah fuckin way! Fo sho! But what the kicker is, I'm walking off the field and a parent approaches me, "Hi coach. My name is.."
"I know who you are. You're Donald's father . What can I do you for?" I ask not feeling this shit at all. Don't ask no mothah fuckin questions to no damn coach when it's the loosin fuckin coach; thus, me mothah fuckah! But I'm keepin it together...just fuckin barely.
"Yes, you're right! But I just wanted to ask you one question if I may?" Mr. Klein asks.
"I'm cool with it. But I just want you to know we just lost if you didn't notice sir and I never am really together mentally after a loss so if this can wait I would really appreciate it sir," I said with as much patience as I could possibly muster.
"Oh, it's only a short question which I am sure will not take much of your time," Mr. Klein pushes on.
What the fuck, "Shoot," I say.
"I would just like to know coach, why in the world would you call a two yard play when we needed five yards to get a first down?" Mr. Klein asks.
"Now we are talking about the fourth down play which we didn't convert that turned it over to the other team who ran out the clock subsequently. Right?" I asks.
"Exactly," he responds with a little too much excitement in his voice for my liking.
"The same two yard play that your son Donald, one of our starting wide receivers, was a recipient of. That play?" I ask workin the setup. He really should have caught me tomorrow but such is life, one deals with the present. So I must deal with what is in front of me now.
"Yes! It's a simple question. But if you don't want to answer it, that's fine. But you do not have to scoff at me for something you do not have an answer for!" Mr.Klein now where I want him.
"You know what sir, you're right. Please forgive me. But first of all I asked if you could wait for another time to ask me what you wanted to ask me. And I guess you could not since your schedule is so busy and my schedule is empty supposedly. Digressing, I say all that to say, I'm sorry, and you are right. I should answer your question and I most assuredly will. To begin with sir, there is no way I would call a two yard play. We don't even have a two yard play in our playbook, nor I am pretty sure no other team does also. So will you indulge me? Can I ask you some questions?" I ask with the utmost feigned sincerity.
"Sure," he says.
"When you ask Donald to take out the trash when it needs to be taken out, does he do it?" I ask.
"Well, he's pretty good at it I guess. I would say most of the time, yeah, most of the time," Mr. Klein says with not much verve.
"I'm sure you ask him to make his bed every day, does he?" I ask.
"Well...not really. No I can't say he does that," Mr. Klein says.
"Okay, would you agree with me, just with those two things that would be just teaching him the basic or the fundamentals of what is expected of him in this life or at least while he is under your roof?" I ask.
"I would agree with you on that," he says looking kind of like, where is this going?
"Forgive me of how I'm going to put this to you but this is how I feel I need to express this to you. But, you are his father and he doesn't do the things that are expected of him when his father tells him to do it on a regular. I'm just the mothah fuckah's coach. And when the play is designed for him to do a five yard out route and he decides to do a two yard out route...shit! Don't blame the fuckin messenger!" I say and walk the fuck away.
"I know who you are. You're Donald's father . What can I do you for?" I ask not feeling this shit at all. Don't ask no mothah fuckin questions to no damn coach when it's the loosin fuckin coach; thus, me mothah fuckah! But I'm keepin it together...just fuckin barely.
"Yes, you're right! But I just wanted to ask you one question if I may?" Mr. Klein asks.
"I'm cool with it. But I just want you to know we just lost if you didn't notice sir and I never am really together mentally after a loss so if this can wait I would really appreciate it sir," I said with as much patience as I could possibly muster.
"Oh, it's only a short question which I am sure will not take much of your time," Mr. Klein pushes on.
What the fuck, "Shoot," I say.
"I would just like to know coach, why in the world would you call a two yard play when we needed five yards to get a first down?" Mr. Klein asks.
"Now we are talking about the fourth down play which we didn't convert that turned it over to the other team who ran out the clock subsequently. Right?" I asks.
"Exactly," he responds with a little too much excitement in his voice for my liking.
"The same two yard play that your son Donald, one of our starting wide receivers, was a recipient of. That play?" I ask workin the setup. He really should have caught me tomorrow but such is life, one deals with the present. So I must deal with what is in front of me now.
"Yes! It's a simple question. But if you don't want to answer it, that's fine. But you do not have to scoff at me for something you do not have an answer for!" Mr.Klein now where I want him.
"You know what sir, you're right. Please forgive me. But first of all I asked if you could wait for another time to ask me what you wanted to ask me. And I guess you could not since your schedule is so busy and my schedule is empty supposedly. Digressing, I say all that to say, I'm sorry, and you are right. I should answer your question and I most assuredly will. To begin with sir, there is no way I would call a two yard play. We don't even have a two yard play in our playbook, nor I am pretty sure no other team does also. So will you indulge me? Can I ask you some questions?" I ask with the utmost feigned sincerity.
"Sure," he says.
"When you ask Donald to take out the trash when it needs to be taken out, does he do it?" I ask.
"Well, he's pretty good at it I guess. I would say most of the time, yeah, most of the time," Mr. Klein says with not much verve.
"I'm sure you ask him to make his bed every day, does he?" I ask.
"Well...not really. No I can't say he does that," Mr. Klein says.
"Okay, would you agree with me, just with those two things that would be just teaching him the basic or the fundamentals of what is expected of him in this life or at least while he is under your roof?" I ask.
"I would agree with you on that," he says looking kind of like, where is this going?
"Forgive me of how I'm going to put this to you but this is how I feel I need to express this to you. But, you are his father and he doesn't do the things that are expected of him when his father tells him to do it on a regular. I'm just the mothah fuckah's coach. And when the play is designed for him to do a five yard out route and he decides to do a two yard out route...shit! Don't blame the fuckin messenger!" I say and walk the fuck away.
Welcome To My World (Broke Black Prophet) 2005
I’m going down.
Where? I do not know. But I am.
It’ s so much easier to sink into the filthy ocean, or crumble to the
dirty ground than to fly over this piss ass ocean and fly over this shit
infused earth; just so much easier. Because to show the truth, and to learn that same truth, is
hard; and it also hurts like shit, oft times.
Nothing comes overnight. Nothing.
Since there is always doubt in this fallible mind of mine; hence there is always failures to the things that should not fail. But like anything else, faith takes exercise to strengthen. And with that exercise of that faith one, like I , can look forward to the many hours, days, years and sometimes lifetime of training faith into my soul which leads to many epic failures and epic disappointments. And faith is not quite there yet because of sloth. But sloth too is commonplace within my world named: Meredith Singleton Hopson; population: one.
And every person has their own given world which they control…yes, being their given perspective God in their body of an universe; which every truth springs forth from, begins. Genesis to Revelations, birth to death…What saith thee? Is the only question and whatever one answers is “The Truth” in their given perspective, in their given universe which that kingdom one rules spawns one's destiny or fate. Whatever is clever.
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