Saturday Morning Fight

Three black men and one Chinese woman walk into a room and close the door. After fifteen minutes, you hear rumbles of male voices, and an occasional shriek of a female who obviously has something on her mind. Now before your perverted mind goes too deep into the gutter, the four people are college students, the room is located at the school library, and the rumbles and shrieks are an argument over strategic business planning for a class project.

Welcome to my Saturday morning. At 8:00 AM, I had the pleasure of meeting with three group members from a strategic business course to outline a semester long project. The goal of the meeting was to map out a business, its benefits plan, and how best to assign group responsibilities so that the grade on the project is acceptable for all members.

Within the first ten minutes one of our group members, a gentleman from Africa whom I’ll call Mjinga (fool), decided he knew more than all the other students about how the group should be run and to tell the group what to do and how to do their parts of the project. Mjinga was not aware that Kamau (warrior) was in the group.

Kamau, my inner warrior spirit, woke up and verbally bitch slapped that Mjinga for ignoring the first rule of a team, working together. I reminded him that the all mighty professor had not granted him rights to run the group, and that the purpose of the meeting was for all members to decide on how they felt the group should run, and not how one member was going to manage the group.

Mjinga understandably pissed off after being emasculated verbally by another alpha male attempted to get support by getting the other members of the group on his side. Our other group members must not have been happy about his tactics either. I swear it was as if Muhammad Ali and Madam Mao took turns kicking him verbally in the groin. The nicest thing I heard from them is that he was an idiot for trying to start a fight at 8:00 AM.

The upshot was that the group did decide on leadership and defined rolls. We also worked out that our best design for a fake business was a bank and that we would do better to focus on a realistic profile rather than an elaborate cookie cutter model. It is better to play it safe, than to gamble on grades.

Oh, what happened to Madam Mao, Kamau, and Muhammad Ali? After the meeting, we went to breakfast and discussed Mjinga with much bad language and rude jokes. Ali had to go off to work, but his closing line is something I will never forget. “I pity the fool who screws with us when we’re hungry.”

An RVAMaverick creation.

Human Geography: Or the Age of Location

I present for your amusement, a quick lesson in human geography. The process is simple, as we age, our bodies tend to represent the various parts of the world we live in. It is better to know where in the world you are going as you grow older, so that you are prepared when you get there.

THE GEOGRAPHY OF A WOMAN:

  • Between 18 and 22, a woman is like Africa – half discovered, half wild, fertile and naturally beautiful!
  • Between 23 and 30, a woman is like Europe – well-developed and open to trade, especially for something of real value.
  • Between 31 and 35, a woman is like Spain – very hot, relaxed, and convinced of her own beauty.
  • Between 36 and 40, a woman is like Greece – gently aging, but still a warm and desirable place to visit.
  • Between 41 and 50, a woman is like Great Britain – talented and self-assured, with a regal, glorious and all-conquering past.
  • Between 51 and 60, a woman is like Israel – has been through war, knows how to protect herself, doesn’t make the same mistakes twice, and takes care of business.
  • Between 61 and 70, a woman is like Canada – cool, self-preserving, but open to meeting new people.
  • After 70, she becomes Tibet – wildly beautiful, with a mysterious past and the wisdom of the ages … an adventurous spirit and a thirst for spiritual knowledge.

THE GEOGRAPHY OF A MAN:

  • Between 1 and 80, a man is like Iran – ruled by a couple of nuts.

Special Thanks to Quincy Sparrow for his help on this list. He is indeed rockstar material. Quincy is available on Twitter at @21JumpST. When he’s not actively thinking about doughnuts or world domination, he Tweets good thought provoking one-liners.

An RVAMaverick creation.

A Blue Rose

here’s a storey submitted by my mother. Not sure where she found it, but its awesome. She is truely an old dandelion.

Having four visiting family members, my wife was very busy, so I offered to go to the store for her to get some needed items, which included light bulbs, paper towels, trash bags, detergent and Clorox. So off I went.

I scurried around the store, gathered up my goodies and headed for the checkout counter, only to be blocked in the narrow aisle by a young man who appeared to be about sixteen-years-old. I wasn’t in a hurry, so I patiently waited for the boy to realize that I was there. This was when he waved his hands excitedly in the air and declared in a loud voice, “Mommy, I’m over here.”

It was obvious now, he was mentally challenged and also startled as he turned and saw me standing so close to him, waiting to squeeze by. His eyes widened and surprise exploded on his face as I said, “Hey Buddy, what’s your name?”

“My name is Denny and I’m shopping with my mother,” he responded proudly.

“Wow,” I said, “that’s a cool name; I wish my name was Denny, but my name is Steve.”

“Steve, like Stevarino?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered. “How old are you Denny?”

“How old am I now, Mommy?” he asked his mother as she slowly came over from the next aisle.

“You’re fifteen-years-old, Denny; now be a good boy and let the man pass by.”

I acknowledged her and continued to talk to Denny for several more minutes about summer, bicycles and school. I watched his brown eyes dance with excitement, because he was the center of someone’s attention. He then abruptly turned and headed toward the toy section.

Denny’s mom had a puzzled look on her face and thanked me for taking the time to talk with her son. She told me that most people wouldn’t even look at him, much less talk to him.

I told her that it was my pleasure and then I said something I have no idea where it came from, other than by the prompting of the Holy Spirit. I said, “There are plenty of red, yellow, and pink roses in God’s Garden; however, “Blue Roses” are very rare and should be appreciated for their beauty and distinctiveness. You see, Denny is a Blue Rose and if someone doesn’t stop and smell that rose with their heart and touch that rose with their kindness, then they’ve missed a blessing from God.”

She was silent for a second, then with a tear in her eye she asked, “Who are you?”

Without thinking I said, “Oh, I’m probably just a dandelion, but I sure love living in God’s garden.”

She reached out, squeezed my hand and said, “God bless you!” and then I had tears in my eyes.

May I suggest, the next time you see a BLUE ROSE, don’t turn your head and walk off. Take the time to smile and say Hello. Why? Because, by the grace of GOD, this mother or father could be you. This could be your child, grandchild, niece or nephew. What a difference a moment can mean to that person or their family.

From an old dandelion! Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.

An RVAMaverick creation.

Blind Rage: or Where the Dogs Can’t Go

Society is becoming more self-centered and stupid every day. While watching the news and reading blogs on the internet, I see countless stories of discrimination against people based on race, color, gender, sexual orientation, and disability. As someone who has a disability, blindness, any attacks on people in that category really piss me off.

Lately I have noticed a rise in the number of stories where in customers with guide dogs are denied access to stores, restaurants, and travel facilities like airports. Guide dogs (also called seeing-eye dogs) are assistance dogs trained to lead blind and visually impaired people around obstacles. In several countries, guide dogs, along with most service animals, are exempt from regulations against the presence of animals in places such as restaurants and public transportation. neither the business owner, the staff, nor that random pinhead who feels their opinions are God’s law can bar that animal from the due performance of their duty of guiding the blind or vision impaired person around in a safe manner.

Barring these friendly fur balls from faithful service makes me mad because it is the same as saying that the person has no right to equal access. It tells me that the establishment values the money of all other patrons, except for money from people who can’t see. It finally tells me that taking the step to see what life is like in the shoes of someone who is different from them is so hard, so out of the ordinary, so distasteful that that person must be barred from mixing with society less that blindness disease be communicated to “normal” people.

I know it might sound biased. I don’t give a soft soap bubble. Equality is a basic human right, and should be enforced. Whether you can’t see, have the wrong skin color, or are just full of cacafuego, you still deserve to be treated like a normal person unless your behavior breaks a law or your force your beliefs on someone else.

I swear there are times I want to take discriminatory people and slap them so hard that by the time they come down, they’d need a passport and
plane ticket back!

An RVAMaverick creation.