The Classless System (Miles Davis) 1965

"Classy," is a word used by a mothah fuckah, irrespective of their color, who has no fuckin class.

Broken Discourse (Christopher Tuesday, Professor of African American Studies, Interviewee, 106.7 FM) 2019

...Well that’s what we have succumbed to haven’t we?

Yes, I understand perfectly your argument.  It is one I have heard throughout my lifetime, which basically states: to hell with everything and everyone else... except for me!

I never said that.

No, you are the one that is telling untruths.  Not me. 

There’s no need for that.  That’s what we as people start breaking down, one of the purest commonality we have as fellow humans: being sentient.

Never heard a nigger speaking like me?  So what, that doesn’t give me a pass to be Black?  I speak properly: ergo, I’m shunning my prized Blackness?

Yes, ‘ergo’ is a word.

 

Good lord, didn’t you ask me to come on this talk-show so we could talk about societal issues?

Instead we have once again been brainwashed to think somehow race is hyper relevant given our societal climate; ergo, once again, succumbing to race-bait discourse whatever the subject matter?

Step the fuck outside you punk nigger?  My God…

(to be continued…)

Imagine That (Broke Black Prophet) 2001

If I were ever a twin I know I killed that other mother fucker.  Shiiitt!  Two of me?  The fuck!  Fuck naw.  That shit just ain’t gonnah fuckin float!  At the fuck all!  Bye-bye-boo-boo!

 

That niggah be propahly disposed of!  Yes sir!  Can’t stand my damn self more than half the time and this mothah fuckah lookin like me, reminding my ass of me, always lookin like me…whateverthefuck!  

I know for damn sure I killed my twin because I’m here. And he or she is not. 

The one I killed, had the better looks; had the better attitude; loved life;  highly sociable…opposite of everything that I am.

 

So…yes.  I killed that other mother fucker that looked like me.

 

And I’m glad I did it.

My Silent Protector (Twenty-Two Years Old, Nancy Downse, Survivor) 2022

Though you don’t like it, you begin to get used to it.  At first, it’s kind of strange because you are aware of the most infinitesimal, minute sounds, which gets on your nerves… But after awhile you get used to it; no sound, makes a sound louder.   It becomes a blessed strength for survival.

My hearing is highly acute because of everything being dead.  The only sounds I hear: are from myself and the wind.  

Oft times, I close my eyes real tight to try to hear someone…something…but alas, it’s just me and the wind.

(...to be continued)

Do You Know What Time It Is? ( Deuce) April 2016

Donald Trump? 

The fuck he get the fuckin nod? 

Be-fuckin-fuddled! 

The fuck wrong with America?...

Exactly! 

The mainstream finally gettin it? 

Fuck no! 

The dance. 

Oh, the dance. 

Please stop that waltz, that tango, that salsa…

…whateverthefuck! 

Cause our mothah fuckin feet are fuckin tired! 

And I don’t know bout these othah mothah fuckahs…

but this niggah’s feets…are barkin! 

Oh, yes Lawd! 

And my Black ass ain’t dancin no mo! 

Oh-the-fuck-no!

But befo I sit my tired Black Ass down! 

,,,I demand some fuckin answahs!

And I can’t kick yo ass…well…because of these hurtin feets…so fuck that!  But, mothah fuckah!  I can sho nuff shoot yo lazy white and black privileged sorry asses.

Now what’s it gonnah be?

And they would rather die befo they let you on their level, The Knowing,The Olympians; so they take the bullet “for the greater good.”  Um!  Damn shame how many mothah fuckahs gonnah has tah die…until the questions are answahed.  

But, I’m down with that.

Brother to Brother (Jay Price) 2015

"Morals and Dogma..." by Albert Pike.  Interesting.  An excellent example of eurocentrism; and ol' Albert hath not a clue.  But supposed to be the Bible in Freemasonry.  I wouldn't know that to be true because I am not a 'mason; and if I were I really don't think my fellow brothers would appreciate myself writing about this; hence the quandary.  But I guess there is no quandary because I am making statements about the writing contained within the book of lectures/essays compiled by Pike.

And you might be asking yourself, "Why the fuck you readin somethin like that with your Black ass?"  Well, you have to be armed with the truth no matter the circumstance or subject.  Fact checking.  Digressing...

All I got out of  "Morals and Dogma..."  is an understanding and an excuse:  for a group of people to be convinced, after reading texts, to treat the rest of the people differently because, "...after-all, we are the chosen few."  And, of course, the chosen few being: white Freemason males only; but... in an eloquent and loquacious manner.

Purple-Deal-Pickle Eater's Revolution... (The Symbol) 21-04-2016

“I’ll show you around.  A lot of the people here, I’m sure, you will already be familiar with.  So, don’t ever feel like you’re alone.  Like you, me and everyone you meet hereafter: we live, and we will live, in the new world which we all have envisioned,”  he said.  “Let me take you for a little tour into Genesis.”

I’ve always been skeptical about any and everything.  Even with my own existence, I question.  And this?  

Shit, skeptics, like I, would never believe what I was witnessing in a millennia.  But here I was a witness, far from the Jehovah type which I had physically…mentally…passed into…what-the-fuck-was-this? 

They said, in the transition room, “Mr. Nelson would you please pay attention to the monitor in front of you.”  I did as I was instructed. 

And shit.  There!... my image was; a male voice-over, saying that I had died…

From a fuckin overdose?  

Yeah, I partied, but everyone knows, I don’t fuck with drugs!  Don’t they?  Didn’t they?

 

I gave a drug dealer forty-kay every six months for…Dilaudid, synthetic heroin pills…and Oxy…?”

Come the fuck on!  

Really?  

They believing that shit?...

 

So I turned to the two burly gentleman, dressed very gentlemanly I may add, and before I could get a word out of my mouth they both, imperceptibly nodded; suggesting, “We told you what  the deal was when you agreed to the deal.”

What a purple-pickle, indeed…

If Only For Today! (BBP) 2017

Today…is today. 

Yes-sir and yes-miss; 

And I am so glad that this day is named “Today!” 

Because that means, I’m alive Sunshine!

 

Today!

Hillary Clinton, The Next President Of The United States (Elaine Hopson II/ Deuce) April 2016

One has to look at, if one wants to discern at least the most minute part of what is transpiring in this world,  paranoia.  One has to be paranoid.  Oh, not paranoid in the psychosis realm, this is where one must digress from what is suggested by the masses to be a mental disfigurement.  What one will find constantly in this social beast we call, life, is the fact when one finds a discernible way to find truth; society, will find a way to disparage said truth seeker.

How does society exactly do that?  You may ask.  Well, I don't know how to put it except, in the raw...most of society are idiots.  There, I said it.   Society, disproportionately does not have a clue of what is transpiring right in front of their given eyes, and it is their for them to witness; yet, they look away and stay ignorant.  Why would society look away from what most want: the truth?  You may ask again.  Well, not only is most of society filled with idiots; moreover society is replete with liars.  What one professes to the whole doth not mean said profession is the truth.  No, on the contrary; individuals in society say most of what they say to coincide with their fellow cohorts, to fit in so as not to be judged.

Let me give you a wee bit of an example.  We have had elections for president at least every four to eight years since 1789; yet, we still believe the POTUS is  elected fairly.  The POTUS has never been elected by popular votes by the populous of which the president is elected.   All the presidents in our history have been selected by a very chosen few, not by the populous vote.

Which brings us to the here and now.  Donald Trump was hand picked to be the Republican front runner.  Hillary Clinton has been hand picked to be the Democratic nominee.  And you know who will win?

Hillary Clinton.  And  make no mistake about that.

Well, how do you know that for certain my dear friend?  Well...because of what I have stated previously, one has to be paranoid to see what has gone on in the past, paranoid to see what is going on in the present and paranoid to see what is going to come in our future.

So, when I see/witness that Hillary Diane  Rodham Clinton is mentored by, one of the Committee of 300 members, former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger.  The next POTUS has already been selected and Donald Trump is just a diversion.

...(to be continued)

The Proper Culinary Technique? (Twenty Years Old, Eugene Cook, Second Year Trade School Student of The Chef's Academy, Indianapolis-Indiana) 2015

I just can’t watch the shit.  I don’t know why?  Sunny Anderson, Gordon Ramsay, Heston Blumenthal…and all the rest of the chefs that are ‘Lefties;’ I just can’t watch the shit.  

Like when I watch Sunny’s shows: she’s attractive; very easy to look at; beautiful smile; knows her shit and speaks well.  But I can’t fuckin do it!  God damn! She starts stirring something and I want to holler at her to, “Stop!...” even though, I know good and goddamned well, she can’t hear my Righty’ black ass, “…Chil, you’re goin to burn yourself bad, the way that you’re stirrin that mixture on that stove!,” or, “…Sistah, you’re bout ready to cut one of those right fingers the fuck off!”  But she never does burn herself or severely cut herself, the few times I have watched her; because again, I can’t take too much of that opposite shit.  

Can’t even begin to imagine the shit the ‘Lefties’ constantly are seeing?  Everything opposite, full time…   Ohhh!  Shit!

Isn’t that horrible of me?  With my intolerant ass?  Damn!...

But fuck it!  Cut and stir-the-fuck- right you left handed chef mothah fuckahs!  

La Voix De La Raison (Vingt-six ans, Femelle, Disc Jockey, Martinique-France Ex-Pat, Indianapolis-Indiana Resident, Joi-De-V) 2017

Come down! 

Come down?

Coooommmme…doooowwwnn…now!

The Fuck for?

Because you’re getting way too high.

Ain’t that the fuckin point?

No, because you need to stay in this atmosphere...

And on this beautiful earth.

One and Done! (Fifty Years Old, Broke Black Prophet) 2016

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 destiny or fate.  

Whatever is clever.    

Four Syllable and Four Letter Words Are Synonymous (Deuce) 2018

They were giving a quasi-gifted individual anything that they wanted.  They knew it was all coming to an end.  You want twenty million dollars to be a Disc Jockey?  Just to spin records for the masses?  Fine.

Millions to be a preacher? Okee-dokee.

An Internet Founder?  Most definitely.  No problem...

Money, they knew, was about ready to take a dreaded deep fuckin plunge. Paper money was about ready to be extinct; was not going to have any value whatsoever.

But we, the populous, didn't realize it; not until, it was too late.

But that was the way that they always have wanted it.  Normality was equal to problems.  If we knew that there were problems, there would be problems and the 'select few' didn't want our kind of problems.  Quite the contrary; they have always been a lazy bunch.

Democracy was nothing but a four syllable pronunciation that didn't mean a damn fuckin thang.

(...to be continued.)

This Colorful Life (Elaine Hopson II/ Deuce) 2016

Kaleidoscopic hues confuse the refuse of our troubled minds replete with sinful fines.  Binds give signs. The shackles freckled, bespectacled; heckled by the four feet animals amid the human cannibals. 

We’re no different in this inference, giving preference to evil, to sin.

 

But I will win, ascend to another level with my soul intact; enact another causative effect; circumspect the dialect and intellect to these pseudo-fortune tellers, dwellers of such a negative aspect; never to dissect the core.

Whah? Muh Fuckah? (Fifty Years Old, Broke Black Prophet) 2016

"Have you ever seen 'Leap Of Faith' with Steve Martin?" I asked my wife.

"No," she simply responded.

"You should watch it.  I think you'd like it.  You're real spiritual, unlike myself, and it has that spiritual vibe happenin,"  I said.

"The hell that mean?  You're real spiritual too.  That's one of the reasons I married yo Black ass. Like a mothah fuckah some unicorn or some shit," she said giggling.

"Nooo!  I'm sorry tah tell yah Sunshine, I can't even profess tah that shit.  I'm not spiritual at-tall!  I'm just a mothah fuckah just tryin tah figah some shit out,"  I said.

She just bust out laughing.

And a funny thing happened...I started laughing too.

Asbestos: A Stone Cold Killer (Roman Messenger) Circa 800 AD

"Just in time," the King, Charles The Great, said to me in his High Germanic tongue.  I did not say another word.  You never do after a King has spoken; one, such as I, understands if one wants to live.  One only speaks when the King tells one; I had already been introduced and I had just began to speak when his Majesty severed my message for a time.

The room was filled with people save for a roaring fire burning, in the middle of the room, in a circular fire pit made with stone maybe a half of a fathom high.  Next to this pit stood a lonely servant with a nine pied by nine pied rug laid out in front of the servant.

"Continue,"  the King began, "pick the rug up and throw it into the fire."  The servant picked the rug up and threw the rug unto the fire.  After  a short time the King commanded, "Now take it off!"  The servant had taken his two hands, unprotected, and quickly grasped and laid the rug onto the floor which it was before.  The rug unharmed by the fire.  The crowd cheered in astonishment.

"Amiantos,"  I said, letting the word slip out of my mouth.  I being in amazement.  I had heard of such cloth but, like most others, did not believe of its existence.  What cloth could possibly withstand fire?

The King looked at me and laughed heartily,"Yes!  Amiantos!  Asbest!  The King of Persia sent it to me.  Marvelous!  Now, you,"  the King speaking to the servant who had put on and taken off the unscorched rug, "lie down on the rug.  And the two of you," he pointed to two other servants close to his sides, "roll him up in the rug and throw it upon the fire!"

Each servant did as they were told.  The rug went upon the fire.  Horrible screaming and the smell of burnt flesh entered the room.  "Take it off the fire and unroll the rug,"  the King said to the two servants.

The two servants took the rug off of the fire and unrolled the rug.  The servant within the the rug was writhing in pain blackened and mahogany in color.  Most of the crowd in the room had put one or both hands up to their noses with a most distasteful look on their given faces.  I turned to the King quickly waiting for his command so I would be able to speak, give my message and return home.

"Take him away," the King with disappointment in his voice said to the two not charred servants.  The King watched them as the servants gathered up their cohort.

"Curious," The King said offhandedly.

WOTUS, CWA and FEMA Camps, Oh My! (Forty-Three Years Old, Jeffery Weyland) 2018

They started talking about human rights and taking guns off of the streets.  People didn't fall for that.

 So, they forced peoples' hands by taking those same rights of humans away and since we would not willingly give up our arms they did something about that too.  They contaminated our waters and started taking our land away from us; moving us all closer together so that they may control us better.

We didn't see what was happening.  This is and was, "The Land of The Free!"

We were so ignorant.  Before we could react with dissent, they were way out in front of us with their plans, herding all of us like cattle into the awaiting boxcars.  Treblinka and Auschwitz raced through my mind just before those steel doors slammed shut.  

I Can't Wait To See My Father's Father (Broke Black Prophet) January, 2016

There’s never enough stuff.  Fluff amid the scruff.  Puff the magic dragon hanging on another strong song of enlightenment sent to another fellow who has never been mellow.  

But that’s more than okay in these last days of necrosis; an abhorrent hypnosis being carried out by the so called devout various religious sects gone unisex:  man or woman does not matter in this suffering domain gone totally insane. 

Spraying chemical trails in the heavens to create all the sevens to equal elevens.

 

Breaking even, is not, believing.  You have to go all in, in this land of pious and in this land of sin.  Oh, I wish for the freedom of non-serfdom; being slaves again soon. 

But I will not go out like a trick; pandered and patted down, relinquishing my last dollar without an horrible fight so quick.  Nooooo!  My soul’s way too bright!  

I’ll look up at the Heavens and holler, getting ready to die but killing a lot of those mother fuckers before I get judged by my blessed Maker, my second Father.  And I’ll be just fine, all fucking right! Oh, my Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs, it's going to be a Beautiful sight! 

Icehouse Edge, Miller Brewing Company (Beer Blogger, Username: lovethatdarkthickbodiedfunkystuff) 2012

It's not the best tasting malt liquor in the world but that's not why a beer connoisseur, such as I, drinks this shit.  Fuck naw.  Avowing 8% ABV it keeps its promises.  It's what I call a: fucked up beer,  IWGYFU (It Will Get You Fucked Up)!  Yah heard may.

Back in the day, the Native Americans would have traded land for this shit!  And if you are a diabetic?,  beware, this shit is sweet as all get up!  For real!

Peace, my hoppas!

I Hear You, Yo Honah! I Fuckin Hear You Loud And Fuckin Clear! (Anthony Thompson,Johnson County, Indiana) June, 2015

Motha Fuckas don't want ta see yo monkey ass! For real! You listen to these muh fuckas that don't know shit bout this here judicial system, especially as it applies to this here paternity, custody...or whateva hearings bullshit. People don't know what the fuck they talkin bout. Let me tell yo ignant ass somehn! These courts are so backed up and shit, they don't have time for the trivial bullshit you think is relevant. You, may think the shit is relevant, but yo relevancy don't have shit ta do with the fuckin law. Ya heard may? You can get mad all you fuckin want but the evidence the court is lookin at is what they go by. And the Motion or Petition they are judging is all that they are lookin at. Not yo five, ten, fifteen years of fuckin marriage or a fuckin relationship yo sorry ass done had with the Father or Mother of said child. They ain't got time fo that bullshit!

Yeah! Yeah! Next booty on duty motha fucka! Gotsta keep it fuckin movin goddamnit! Well I just want the court to know...Whah? That shit ain't in the Motion! Fuck that! What else yo sorry ass got for my tired ass? Gots no time fo shit that ain't been put in the proper legal way. There's law you ignant motha fuckas!

Here in lies the rub. If you don't know proper procedure as it pertains to the law, judges get quite pissed. Not just by the one who is Motioning or Petitioning but by every goddamned body involved! If the shit ain't got nothin ta do with the best interest of the child, then get the fuck out of my fuckin courtroom! This shit is bout what the Mother wants or what the Father wants. Not what the fuckin child needs! Get-the-fuck-out! And don't let me see yo monkey asses back in here anytime soon! Or there will be hell ta pay! Ya heard may?

Shiiiit! I got ears yo Honor! I got fuckin ears! Best believe that shit! For real!

Peace! More to come...

This Is Only The Beginning (Elaine Hopson II/Deuce) 2018

You are perfectly created.

You are uniquely you.

No one else can be you.

No one is like you...

And this is where this story of our individuality begins.

Please, stay tuned.

(...to be continued)

2015 (From Another Learned Poor Person) November 2020

We guessed it was always in our faces. The sign being there most of our lives. All the times humans have used the phrase over the years, "Hindsight is 20/20."

Well, 2015 is when we should have known something. Global warming; volcanoes stirring and erupting, tornadoes every where...; the human condition worsening; nature loosing its shield, the atmosphere thinning...But no one looked at the year that we were in. No, one!

20/15, as far as visual acuity is concerned, is better vision than 20/20. It was there, right in our faces all this time. The year of our Lord 2015 in the optical realm had been forecasting our human fate; albeit, unbeknownst to US; we knew what was going to come in 2020. 20/20 is when normal visual acuity has been obtained. 20/15 is when you see better than what is deemed "normal."

We witnessed it. Right in front of our eyes all along, 20/15 meant the year 2015. But we didn't pay it any mind whatsoever. Clarity had come in 2015.

The horrible shit we should have seen coming, back in 2015, hit the masses in 2020.

But by then...it was too late.

The Voice Of...by Deuce (Elaine Hopson II) 2017

They wanted me to accept this pedophile Black preacher James Denton on the show; a show that was named after me: Kyle Johnson "Make The Right Decision."  Ol' Pastor Denton on this shit with these elaborate shirt sleeves cuffs which were monogrammed/inscribed with his name on both cuffs with cuff links of diamonds that I am sure that set the preacher back a couple of thousand dollars.  Cazal eyeglass frames another $650; the lenses to be put into that same frame, Physio Enhanced Fit PAL(Progressive Addition Lenses), Crizal Sapphire ARC (Anti Reflective Coating), Transition Grey Xtra-Active lenses...settin the "preacher' back fo sho easily another three stacks just with his eyewear alone.  But we are here in this studio to discuss poverty to the poverty stricken.  The fuck man? Fuckin niggah pastors!

I had heard the vile things Pastor Denton had did and continues to sickeningly do with our youth.  And I guess you have already surmised, I do not like the mother fucker; not one iota.  Filthy waste of human fecal matter and sperm is the way that I had always seen him.  There was no emotion on my face when I was introduced to him at the various functions around this finite world of Naptown; Indianapolis, Indiana.  I never smiled at his trifling ass.  Nor did I ever offer my hand as far as a gentlemanly introduction.

Shit!  As far as I am concerned, yo ass is a preacher and it is known, not gossiped, that you fuck little boys as well as little girls...there ain't a goddamned thing we need to talk about with yo stanky funky sorry ass.  Yao Ming?  I don't ever have to interact with yo stank pedophile havin ass again.

And when we do meet again somewhere down the road of absolution for my family and I; I just may well will have to  wipe yo funky sorry ass stank, worthless piece of fetid human flesh off of the face of this God Given Green Earth!  Yah heard may?  Amen!

But for now, I have to watch his sorry ass being in the forefront of this civil unrest in Baltimore, Maryland.  Knowing full well with a spirit like "his" front and center, shit just gonna get worse, not better.

I have never seen nor read of how to make sour fruit or rotten food better.  So, I definitely understand that it is what it is.  After which, all that it is good for at that point is refuse or compost.  I sighed as he tried again to put out his hand in greeting, and again I just looked at his outstretched huge hands, black as charcoal in color, then looked up with disdain.  He just shrugged, not getting it at all, or maybe he just didn't give a damn anymore with his filthy self, and sat down in front of the guest microphone across from me.

I sighed heavily.  Today just may be the day.  I reached under the round counsel which we were sitting around, felt the familiar leather of my satchel; unclasped the flap; pulled the flap toward me, reached in to feel the cool safety of the steel...(to be continued)