I Beat Cancer! ...Hold on...

 DISCLAIMER: I am a cancer patient. While I may not have any active cancer/cancers in my body at present (that I know of), I'm very cognizant that it could return. I am in no way attempting to say that all cancer experiences are like my own. Each person's cancer journey is like a fingerprint given that each is different. While they may have some commonalities, each persons fight with this affliction differers just as each person differs. Some cancers are more aggressive than others, and not all of us who battle this son of a bitch will prevail. This is a long, and ugly road and I pray for my brothers and sisters who trod this road with me. I remember those who trod it before me like my late grandmother, three of my uncles and five of my aunts.  My heart especially goes out to all the children who suffer with it who were diagnosed before they began to live and all who will walk on this road in the future. My purpose in writing this is to give insight to my battle with something which I'll loathe until the day I draw my last breath and hopefully which won't be the cause of my demise. While I can't and won't attempt to speak for all cancer patients I will say to those NOT on this road who would tell those of us on it how to walk, shut the hell up. To those who've pretended to be on this road for either attention or money, I hope that hell is a real place and that a special place in it is reserved for you.]  

In that dingy oncologists hallway beneath humming florescent lights, tightly clutching a thick, multicolored nylon rope attached to a worn clapper, you triumphantly ring a shiny brass bell as smiling family members and medical staff applaud. You pull the rope towards. you making the clapper resound as it strikes the sides again and again as you smile so hard your face literally hurts. One of your loved ones is in tears and even your curmudgeon of a doctor has mustered a smile for the occasion. You've done it. It's over. You've BEATEN CANCER!  

    You're a colossus straddling two continents of a newly conquered world. You are invincible! Take a breath and gently release it. You're in a beautiful place called remission. The fact that you've entered this beautiful place can be attributed to early detection, a dedicated group of medical professionals and a will to fight. You feel good and you deserve it. Now pause.  Just as the Confederate States of America didn't win the civil war after the first battle of Bull Run, you have NOT defeated cancer.

       This war has just begun. You have won a major victory against one of the most evil bastards in existence. He's been around since the dawn of mankind and silently killed before we knew his name. Sometimes we wrote him off as "old age", "natural causes" and sometimes when doctors had no clue they would simply call him "consumption".  This merciless son of a bitch has obliterated, lungs, brains, kidneys, livers, bladders, pancreata, uteri and every organ known. He's infected blood streams, mangled breasts and genitalia and robbed many of the ability to have children. On a daily basis this scourge even attacks small children and even infants.  He has neither compassion nor empathy and ignores all attempts at logic and reason.

        You stand triumphantly above him as Ali did above a prone Liston smiling, shaking your fist knowing that you "Shook up the world." You my friend have just put him on his back but you've hardly defeated him. He can rise from the canvas and return and challenge you to the rematch no one wants and you have no choice but to fight him again. He's the ignorant school yard bully who attacked you because he assumed you were weak. You fought back, put him on his heels and presumed that to be the end. It may be, but it may not. He's as persistent as he is repugnant. He may come back, he may not. He may come after your children or grand children. 

        You are now a member of a unique club comprised of those of us who've fought him and are in remission. Our guard is up as yours should be. We walk the mean streets he created like John Shaft in his heavy, black leather trench coat with a holstered Colt 1911 ready to fight him again if he shows his ugly face. We don't fear him and neither should you. Never fear him,  but do respect him and adjust to the fact that he is now and forever part of your life. He is the ex with whom you have children. In a perfect world you'd never see him again but know that the possibility of his return while not welcomed shouldn't be dismissed. 

         No, you don't have a target on your back. Try new restaurants. Strike up conversations with total strangers. Step outside of your comfort zone. He tried to take your life and failed.  Live your life. Dance, sing, cook, skate,  skydive, travel and if you can LOVE!  You've earned the right to taunt him, but never let that guard down. The rest of us don't.  Know that winning a battle against him means you can beat him. How do you beat him? Live your life, and die of something else as nature intended. 

             

Tactics: The War on Drugs

 From my childhood I remember hearing about the "War on Drugs". President Nixon started it, Reagan resumed it, Bush senior gave it lip service, Clinton put a finger print on it, W. Bush did his part Obama went through the motions on it and T.Rump has revived it, but what the hell is it?

     Insofar as I've researched it, Nixon STARTED the war on drugs not to go after those importing drugs into our country, but rather to punish those using them. Organized Crime had been smuggling drugs into the United States since the 1920s but J. Edgar Hoover (head of the FBI from it's inception in 1924 until his death in 1972) did very little to stop drug trafficking. In fact he said that the organized crime group known as the "Italian mafia" did NOT exist.  Hoover only went after organized crime after Attorney General Robert Kennedy pressured him to do so, but the efforts to seriously hinder their drug trafficking never seemed to stop the flow of drugs. 

      The "war on drugs" which Nixon started was mostly his way at lashing out at his perceived enemies i.e. the counterculture and people of color. As all the aforementioned "war" did was give law enforcement greater leeway to prosecute persons of color (blacks and latinos) and "hippies" most didn't bat an eye at the way it was "fought". Those selling drugs on the streets, those possessing them and those consuming them were punished rather than those trafficking. During the 80s police were given paramilitary equipment and encouraged to treat areas where drugs were being sold like war zones and those selling them like "combatants". 

        American newscasts at the time oft showed police, clad in body armor, atop tanks whose guns had been turned into battering rams attacking men of color in economically disparaged areas of cities whose industries had long previously removed factories and the jobs they provided. Both those selling drugs and those using them got long prison sentences and were labeled societal pariahs, then something happened. In the early 2000's the drugs "changed" and so did the users. 

            In the 1920s organized criminals decided that drugs would only be sold in black and Hispanic areas, to that end most drug arrests were disproportionately among the aforementioned groups, but the 2000s saw the rise of methamphetamines, oxycodone and fentanyl. The drugs in question rather than flooding ghettoes made their way into suburbs, planned communities and even rural America. The new drug user was no longer a "hoodlum" but rather the "kid next door". Given the face of this user, the enforcement mechanism seemed to change almost overnight.

        The focus went from brutalizing dealer and user alike to acknowledging addiction as an "illness", and those addicted as "victims". The United States opened and funded rehabilitation centers and spoke of understanding and compassion. Where was this "compassion" when the users weren't suburbanites or denizens of small towns? 

         President Trump's new war on drugs uses this same approach, but takes the extra step of declaring every other Spanish speaking country "narco-terrorists" and blowing up small boats from them on the open seas without any supporting evidence.  I may be wrong, but the entire war on drugs concept seems to have been and still be simply an excuse to justify the dehumanization, brutalization, imprisonment & wholesale public execution of people of color. President Trump's blowing up boats in international waters on their way to ports in the Caribbean has been applauded by his most loyal supporters but called a violation of international law by everyone else. Being accused of a crime, then being executed without due process has long happened in the United States to men and women of color and it was called "lynching". 

       The victims of lynch-mobs were generally blacks, Native Americans, Mexicans, Asians and on rare occasion poor European immigrants, but the underlying thread was always that it was a member of society who was looked down upon and considered societally expendable. Courts of law in the U.S. didn't prosecute a lynching successfully until 1964 and prior to that didn't even attempt to prosecute in most incidents. It's my assertion that those who approve of blowing up "suspected" drug traffickers without a shred of evidence or due process are the same people who presumed that paramilitary police forces clubbing urban youth in the 80s and 90s was more than justified and who more than likely would have stood gawking as a mob beat and tortured someone before "stringing them up" from the 1800s to the 1960s. 

        What's my point? There have always been drugs and the attitudes about addiction differ from culture to culture. In Afghanistan and in parts of Asia growing opium poppies & cannabis and making opium, heroin & hashish are perfectly legal. They consider addiction to the aforementioned to be a spiritual and personal "weakness" within the individual who is addicted. In the United States until the early 20th century, morphine, opium, hashish and cocaine were not only legal but could be purchased at pharmacies without prescription. Americans who became addicted were simply treated as if their addiction was their problem. Do I think drugs should be legal in the United States? I don't, but at the same time I think that if we provided economic opportunities in countries where drugs are produced, gave their governments greater incentives to prevent trafficking and enforced the laws we have on the books it would be far less of a problem. 

The United States is the largest user of illegal drugs and we lead the world in deaths from drug use. The reality is that wealthy trafficker of drugs is far less likely to receive any kind of real punishment than those either transporting, selling his drugs on the street or using them and as long as that remains the case, vilifying persons of color as the source of our drug problem will ensure that nothing will change.

Winning Over Black Voters Made Simple

The 2026 Midterm elections will be here before you know it and our political landscape is always in need of new faces and recycled ideas which can be passed off as "fresh".  You're a patriotic American who wishes to hold political office. Unfortunately for you, a large portion of the district, city or state in which you're running just happens to be "black"/"African American". You want their votes but have no idea how to identify with them.  As a person of color I'd like to offer my insight on how you can reach out to us as a group and win this election. Here are a few suggestions that should help you win over the elusive black voter:

  Don't speak directly TO us. If you want to win over us black voters you have to play hard to get. Don't engage us directly,  but rather speak of us in the abstract almost as if we're either fictional characters or extraterrestrial beings. Don't come into our communities or places where we congregate, that will simply make it seem as if you're pandering to us and you may risk alienating all important voters who don't look like us and you simply can't do that.  Talking to community leaders whom we know and respect or coming into our community for events and festivals or having been in our community either working or volunteering will make you seem as if you have some kind of agenda. Speak exclusively to all white crowds in places so remote that we've never heard of them and at times of day when most of us will more than likely be at work.  Make us chase you. We love that!  

 

Align yourself with the Far right! Attend events  and conferences where white nationalists, Christian nationalists and even open white supremacists are giving speeches.  Make sure you're photographed with some of the most controversial speakers and when questioned about it simply say how your opponents are opposed to free speech and are  exaggerating the alleged racism of the event's participants which makes them the "real racists". Say how you attended the event because it was in fact a "Christian conference"  because you know that all black Americans are "Christians" and that saying so will resonate with us. 

 

       Insult us. Black folk LOVE a good insult we are after all the people who invented the "yo mama" joke. Subtlely taking jibes at us will win you lots of new friends and voters. Evoke images of the old south and tell us that not voting for you means we're either "brain washed" or on someone's "plantation". Some may argue that only black people can speak to each other in this manner. I submit that those people are racists attempting to infringe on your rights of free speech. They probably also hate Jeezus and want to take your guns away. Imply that not voting for you is something that only the slow witted would do and shame us into it. While slavery in name legally ended in the United States in 1865 invoking it off the cuff always works well with black voters.  We simply love being reminded of it.  If you say "The Democratic Plantation" enough times we'll wake up and say "Yeah...you're right" and will become your biggest and most zealous supporters.    

 

Mention crime & tie us in wit it! I don't mean how crime effects our communities, but rather say how WE are responsible for the majority of it. While it may not be true as statistics show that most crimes are committed by whites, you should cherry pick data which says the contrary. Point out how any black person who was murdered was either a criminal OR did something which warranted his/her being killed. If the dead person has a criminal record, assert that they were a "career criminal". Even if the person was not committing a crime at the time of their death or if they were and that crime wasn't a capital offense and they were unarmed,  point out that something they did in the past made their death justified. If the deceased is a woman who was sleeping when cops arrived and kicked down her door, claim that her ex boyfriend was a drug dealer or some kind of criminal and that alone got her shot. If the person shot (never call him/her a "victim") was a law abiding    citizen with a gun permit, say that he/she resembles someone who committed a crime and that there is video of said crime. If the dead is a child who was shot while playing with an air pistol, emphasize how REAL the toy looked and how big the kid was. If the youngster is stalked in the rain and violently confronted by some punk with a gun say how "suspicious" the kid looked, point out his having a discipline issue at school and paint his shooter as a community minded "hero" who merely wanted to protect his community when assailed by a "violent young thug." I can't speak for other black people, but I for one would break my legs running to the polls to vote for someone who called ME a criminal or said that I was more likely to commit a crime.                                                                                    

 

Ignore American history! Pretend that law enforcement never allowed lynchings, that there were never laws on the books which denied people of color rights like voting, owning property or getting an education or that until the early 1970s it was perfectly legal to tell a black person that you simply did not hire blacks. Spread the myth of pulling one's self up by one's bootstraps while ignoring that until the mid 1970s it was legal for banks to deny loans to people for simply being black while it was relatively simply for white men to purchase land in black neighborhoods because it encouraged "entrepreneurship". Flat out ignore that the prison systems in states that comprised the old Confederacy from the 1880s until the 1960s used to rent out convicts to local businesses.  While at it, ignore that the peonage and share cropper systems could tie a person and even his/her descendants to a piece of land until an arbitrary debt was paid off.  Tell us that the only history which matters is the American history in which we're not included or from which we've been omitted.  Proclaim your patriotism and remind us that if we don't see America the way you do that we're free to leave.  

 

Minimize our accomplishments! In 1964 the United States passed laws which made it illegal to deny someone a job or educational opportunity based on their race. In 1972 a quota system was put in place to insure that employers and academic institutions could limit the numbers of minorities within their ranks. While schools like Harvard, Yale, Cornell, Colgate and Princeton aren't randomly admitting persons of color with G.E.Ds  or who graduated at the bottom of their respective classes, when you give speeches act as if they do. Pretend as if Ivy League institutions and corporate America have been overrun with with men and women who can't speak the King's English, do basic math or  who possess the mental acuity to open a door without assistance. Question the credentials of every black, engineer, doctor, accountant, airline pilot, attorney or any other professional. Openly state that they only have those jobs and were able to get the credentials necessary for them because they cheated some white man from an education or position which should have been his. This keeps us in our place and scores you points with white voters especially men as they're the most important voting block.  

 

Disparage black women!  Black women vote in much larger numbers than black men. No one knows why but they do. As I stated earlier, we as a people love being insulted! Black women especially love it. As the old expression goes "Keep 'em keen, treat 'em mean." Find black women whom you don't especially like and compare their physical appearance to various beasts e.g. "gorilla in heels" or insults of the like. Question their intelligence! Speak to and of black women with medical and law degrees as if they're children with developmental disabilities. Your level of education is irrelevant if you make your assertion with enough authority and gravitas. Whether you hold a PhD from Oxford, an MBA from William and Mary, a bachelors from Rice an Associates from Houston Community College or simply dropped out of community college after barely finishing high school your insult will land well if you deliver it with enough swagger! Insulting black women will also help you with black men as what man doesn't like hearing someone insult his mother, wife, girlfriend or daughter?  

 

Hire background blacks! Nothing says "vote for me" more effectively than speaking to an audience which is easily 90% white while there are black men and women standing or sitting behind you nodding in enthusiastic agreement. You're clearly "down with us" if those "brothers and sisters" are part of your entourage. Oh I'm sorry "posse".  If possible seek out black "spokes persons" who will do all of the aforementioned things on this list at speeches and rallies. Clearly you don't have a racist bone in your body if a "well spoken" man or woman of color takes the podium and tells your mostly white audience about all which is wrong with the black community. Some might try to assert that he or she is merely appealing to the "dog whistles" that the undereducated reply to, but the only people doing so will be "liberals" who hate America and freedom who hate blacks who are "independent thinkers". They will also act as if your definition of a black "independent thinker" is simply a person of color who agrees with you, or who is willing to speak on your behalf for enough money. They are of course liberals and should be disregarded.  

 

There you have it candidate! If you follow this basic formula folks like myself will tap dance to polls on Election Day while singing our favorite spirituals (as we are a musical people) and vote for you in droves! In fact we may even don a disguise and return to the polls to vote for you a second time that same day. We'll sit up late watching the returns with a big bucket of fried chicken, a huge slice of watermelon and an enormous bottle of some kind of red soda to celebrate your impending victory. Good luck candidate! Incidentally should you not be victorious in this election claim "wide spread voter fraud" and demand several recounts and while you're waiting for the results of those recounts please look up the words "satire" and "sarcasm". I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. After you do read Swift's "A Modest Proposal"

 

 

4th Reich (part II) Liberal Terminology (Satire)

 

Fellow patriots January of 2025 shall reign in the second administration of the greatest American president to ever hold the office. George Washington MERELY lead the Continental Army during the revolutionary war and served as our FIRST president. His leading an army during the whiskey rebellion was mere theatre.  Abraham Lincoln too is overrated. ANYONE could have lead our nation during the Civil War, reunited the country, ended chattel slavery, redefined citizenship and given suffrage to MILLIONS.  Big deal beard boy! Franklyn Roosevelt ONLY lead us out of the great depression and through most of world war 2, but NEITHER of these hacks ever had their names on the side of a 737, built the greatest casino ever, staged beauty pageants,  which helped to redefine the world's standard of beauty, married three supermodels, had their own line of vodka & steak or country clubs NOR gave themselves huge tax breaks. NO, only Donald J. Trump did these things.

       This saint among men has taken time from his financial empire, rigorous workout schedule (which is how he remains a svelte 210 pounds) and literary pursuits to SAVE this great nation from the horrid people who are somehow under the delusion that all within our borders are entitled to the same rights as TRUE American Patriots! While limited by the pathetic 22nd amendment which forbids anyone from being elected to the presidency more than twice, our glorious leader shall make the next four years the greatest 2nd term ever. 

       The United States somehow became a 3rd world nation in the span of four years in which President Trump was out of office. While the "fake news" reported that unemployment was at 4.2% and that interests rates were low, the AVERAGE American was paying FAR too much for eggs and gasoline. Nevermind the fact that gas prices are controlled by the Oil Producing and Exporting Countries (OPEC) and that the boys in Riad, Saudi Arabia cut production and lead to a spike in energy prices, the president of the United States DIRECTLY controls these things.  You should also IGNORE the liberal media reports that the H-5 Bird flu (discovered in January of 2024) is globally responsible for the deaths of entire flocks of turkeys and chickens as well as dairy cattle or the flimsy "evidence" they cite which links that to inflated egg, chicken, turkey and beef prices. We all know that the leftist lying press has an agenda. 

      Regardless you as a patriot should be prepared for the impending glorious 2nd reign of THE Donald Trump. To that end you (and every patriot) should familiarize yourself with the nomenclature of the brave new world in which we're about to embark. Here's but an example terms liberals use with which you should acquaint yourself and I've taken it upon myself to translate them. Hopefully this helps.

Nazi: The liberals use this term to describe any patriot or REAL American. They even manufactured some stories about The American Nazi Party and Ku Klux Klan showing up at the glorious spectacles that were MAGA rallies and that they attempted to have parades to celebrate his election in 2016, or that SOMEHOW that the "Unite the Right" rally in Charlottesville, Virginia was sponsored BY the aforementioned. Everyone knows that's simply preposterous. David Duke showing up at the rally in question and speaking praise of the President was a mere coincidence. While the president and Mr. Duke agree that the HEROES of the civil war should NOT have their statues removed NOR their history erased they most CERTAINLY don't agree on anything else. 

Democrat/Liberal/Progressive: This is how Communists, Marxists and socialists describe themselves. They're under the delusion that the rest of the world doesn't see them for who they are.

Immigrant: rather than describing it to the noble people who braved the wilderness to found this country on Christian values, they use it to describe the illegal thieves, murderers, drug mules and degenerates who eat household pets who flowed through our open border.  The people who "polluted the pure blood of this great nation" as our great nation so aptly put it. These are the people who have under the Marxists have been stealing black jobs for generations. 

Palestinian:  This is simply a terrorist. The radical left refuses to acknowledge that "Palestine" has never actually existed. They pretend that the Romans kicking all the Jewish people OUT of Israel and Judea and scattering them throughout what was then the Roman empire means that Israel ceased to exist for the better part of 2000 years.  Anyone who knows history OR the Bible (which are one in the same) knows better. The Marxists want a "Palestinian" state to exist solely so that they can have an address to send their money so that they can fund wiping Israel off the map and prevent God's prophesies. 

DEI Hire: Libs like to pretend that women and people of color (especially women of color) possess the intellect and ability to function as well as high performing Alpha men. Since the early 70s their agenda has been to take slots in prestigious schools, scholarships and good jobs and give them to unqualified minorities and people of color. Products of low performing schools which  prove each day why school choice is long over due have long ruined this great country but it's all part of their plan to weaken us in the eyes of the world.

Latino:  That's simply what they want us to call "Mexicans". Libs are attempting to confuse REAL Americans with this one. We all know that everyone who speaks Spanish (except European Spaniards) are Mexicans. They can CALL themselves Hondurans, Salvadorans, Nicaraguans, Guatemalans or whatever but we know what they are. The OTHER exception is Cubans. Cubans are actually AMERICANS because Cuba used to BE part of the U.S.  Libs want us to treat Puerto Ricans LIKE Cubans, but they probably have some insidious reasoning behind it. Are there Mexican patriots? Yes. These men will usually be wearing MAGA hats and will tell you how insightful and brilliant a leader president Trump is. While checking documents is NORMALLY a good idea, these men can be given a pass as they TRULY love freedom.

Social Services: The one thing Libs love MORE than taxing hard working Americans like yourself is simply handing your money to people in housing projects who are too lazy to work in the lulls between their court dates, visits to their baby daddy/mama and prison sentences. As the incarcerated can't receive welfare checks the Marxists give your money to illegals as soon as they cross our open border while they ignore our veterans who sleep on the streets.  The Liberal media would have you believe that funding to our heroic veterans is frequently cut. This would be false. Veteran funding remains low because our fighting men and women while in their branches of service learned self reliance. They don't NEED handouts like job training.  They remain on the streets because liberals have chosen illegals OVER them.

Regulation: Liberals love killing jobs. They pretend that refineries and factories need to adhere to strict safety guidelines to protect those working in or living near them. Regulation serves no purpose other than killing jobs. The money spent to bring a factory up to code or to stop it from releasing HARMLESS substances into air and water could better be spent on creating more jobs. Scientists working for big oil and chemical companies have proven time and time again that chemical plants and refineries do NOT cause cancer. A large percentage of those living near plants and refineries are African Americans and studies have shown that African Americans are FAR more prone to cancers. The left is blaming job creators for genetics. Men with high paying jobs when they get cancer (which is rarely connected to their jobs) don't want to be taken care of by some nanny state. They want to go home to spend time with their families before they ultimately meet the lord.

History: The liberal agenda has distorted the meaning of this word. It is how they indoctrinate. It no longer tells the story of the renaissance which brought Europe prominence through intellectual growth. It exaggerates the achievements of so called "civilizations" in the Americas, Asia and believe it or not AFRICA of all places. They say things like Africa & Asia never HAD "dark ages" and therefore didn't NEED a renaissance, but this is mere liberal "spin". Libs claim the Chinese mastered boat building and navigated the Yellow River, but ignore that they didn't circumnavigate the globe. Asia may have had teas, spices and silks, but so does the average convenience store. Libs also like to pretend "Kingdoms" like Kongo, Mali, Nubia and Zimbabwe existed. They can look at any mud hut and call it a thriving civilization so as to deny Europeans bringing both Christianity AND Civilization to the backward people of Africa.  

        In their "woke" delusion they also falsely claim that Judaism and Christianity made it as far south as Ethiopia and that the Ethiopia of today is the SAME one mentioned in the Bible. Any thinking person  knows that isn't true.  Europeans spared savages around the world  but never get credit for it from Libs. 

Church-State: Liberals simply don't like Christianity OR Christians. They have waged a war on Christianity AND Christians since the 1950s. They pretend that "in God we Trust" hasn't always been on our money OR that "one nation under God" hasn't always been in our pledge of allegiance. Lately they've been spreading the malicious lie that the Puritans didn't celebrate Christmas OR that it was once illegal and considered a "pagan" holiday in the Massachusetts bay colony. Nothing can be further from the truth.

Male/Female: Libs don't know what these actually are. Simply ignore them if they mention either. They seemingly have 1000 pronouns for everyone and get offended if you don't use the right one as they change them weekly. 

Choice: The Marxists all claim to be pacifists but believe in murdering the innocent. We all know that babies are created by god the exact second a sperm contacts an egg, but libs don't see it that way. They believe that murdering this newly formed human should be done as a form of birth control. The like pretending that there are instances where mothers can't carry these miracles to term to justify this "murder" but it's just more leftist propaganda. The libs want you to believe that there are tens of thousands of cases of rape and or incest and that these young women should be allowed to terminate these gifts from God rather than giving them up for adoption to good Christian families.

Income Equality/Living Wage: This is simply communist dogma for the redistribution of wealth that Marx programmed them to want. Dems act as if working entitles one to a salary commensurate with the duties performed. If they think a job doesn't pay enough, they're free to find another  as no one is forcing them to stay where they are. If they want to make more money they should get more training or education but think these things should be free. Libs want EVERYTHING to be free.

Protest: Liberals in the cities they run frequently allow riots but pretend that these riots are somehow civil rights protests, yet when REAL patriots protest, libs call these "riots" and insurrections. They show how they're the TRUE racists by saying that "black lives matter" while taking offense when reminded that the lives of ALL people matter. They seem to spread the myth of "police brutality" as if those who found themselves being shot or beaten by the cops were fully compliant.  They act as if ANTIFA are "anti-fascists" who exist solely to respond to the alleged violent acts committed by the American Nazi party and Ku Klux Klan, but they are simply home grown terrorists who oppose the 2nd amendment rights of hard working Americans.

Feminism: Libs simply don't like White, Christian Alpha-Males. They say things like "every man is a potential rapist" and try to paint every sexual encounter (even consensual ones) as some kind of sexual assault. It's simply part of their twisted agenda which includes telling women to leave the home and jeopardizing the institution of marriage ...which we all know can ONLY exist between a man and woman. Liberals hate families.

Nationalism: This is what the Libs call "Patriotism." The idea of loving the greatest country the world has ever seen offends the communists so much that they have to try to give it a negative connotation. 

Dictator: This is what the left calls strong leaders like Vladimir Putin and the most incredible president in American history. Libs don't like the idea of a macho, manly man not taking "no" for answer and doing what needs to be done. Real men don't care about people's "feelings", they do what they do because they know they'll get results. Libs don't like results unless those results equate babies being murdered after birth or boys playing girls sports.

This is but a sample of the code in which they speak.  This list would have been longer, but that would have required my LISTENING to them and what real American wants to listen to libs?  Fear not fellow patriots. The promised mass deportations (with help from the Army and national guard) will begin in the spring. Hopefully many of them will fall in line and see the error of their ways, but in the event that they don't be mindful of the "Enemies of the State" of which the most intelligent president  even spoke. The next four years will be filled with more freedom and economic opportunity than you could ever possibly imagine. The weak and unstable dollar will be replaced by an all powerful crypto-currency and maybe just maybe the house and senate will declare martial law so that President Trump's selfless service to this great nation can extend to the remainder of his days rather than a piddly four year term. And who knows maybe in his infinite wisdom he may anoint Don Jr, Eric or Ivanka to shoulder the mantle of leadership.

       

The Depression They Didn't tell you about

[DISCLAIMER: I am a cancer patient. While I may not have any active cancer/cancers in my body at present (that I know of), I'm very cognizant that it could return. I am in no way attempting to say that all cancer experiences are like my own. Each person's cancer journey is like a fingerprint given that each is different. While they may have some commonalities, each persons fight with this affliction differers just as each person differs. Some cancers are more aggressive than others, and not all of us who battle this son of a bitch will prevail. This is a long, and ugly road and I pray for my brothers and sisters who trod this road with me. I remember those who trod it before me like my late grandmother, three of my uncles and five of my aunts.  My heart especially goes out to all the children who suffer with it who were diagnosed before they began to live and all who will walk on this road in the future. My purpose in writing this is to give insight to my battle with something which I'll loathe until the day I draw my last breath and hopefully which won't be the cause of my demise. While I can't and won't attempt to speak for all cancer patients I will say to those NOT on this road who would tell those of us on it how to walk, shut the hell up.] 

I was taking nice, long strides as I walked to work that morning. I was attempting to clear my head with each step when all of a sudden an emotional tsunami hit & leveled me. I froze in my tracks and found myself openly sobbing while walking down a public street at 8:00 in the morning. In the span of less than a year I'd been diagnosed, lost a woman I loved and my father, along with a good part of my identity and sense of self worth. I could hear low guttural sounds emanating from my own throat that knew I wasn't intentionally making. I could feel the tears falling from my chin and wondered why the God I'd prayed to my entire life had abandoned me. I spent a good minute recomposing myself and then walked on to work where I buried myself in the days tasks.

 I was reminded of a couple with whom I'd gone to church. He was a handsome guy with blue eyes and wavy, dark hair. She was a beautiful, copper colored Filipina with an infectious smile and they always had their two adorable daughters in tow. I can't remember their names, but do remember that one Sunday a month my church would do "coffee & doughnuts" to encourage parishioners to mingle with one another. I would occasionally talk to the handsome couple and their two precocious tots when they told me that his wife had been diagnosed with cancer. I think it may had been uterine cancer but I can't really remember. She was going to begin chemo and she would beat it. I said a prayer for them and wished them well. Over the next few weeks the chemotherapy was taking it's toll on her. She'd lost her hair and resorted to wearing wigs. She'd lost lots of weight. Her dark eyes seemed to slowly sink in their sockets and she appeared more and more frail with each passing week, but Sunday after Sunday she, her husband and children were in the pew in front of me. One Sunday our priest made the sad announcement that she lost her battle. Our section felt empty without he smile and his. Each time I looked at him I saw a man who would have to spend the rest of his life raising two little girls alone whom he'd have to remind how kind and beautiful their mom was. Being a cancer patient sucks, but being the rock for someone with it takes more courage than many people can ever muster.  One Sunday he and his daughters simply stopped coming. I never knew why, but theorized that it was because he found himself questioning why a woman in the prime of her life was suddenly taken.

        Funny thing. Oncologists tell you about the varied side effects that will come with your cancer battle and its treatment but they don't (at least mine didn't) mention one of the very worst i.e. depression. It's as if you're moving into a house that someone else has lived in but you're not told about the mold in the walls, cracks in the foundation, raccoons in the attic or termites slowly eating away at it. They let it be a delightful surprise. Since my "journey" began, one of my therapies has been simply getting up, getting dressed and going to work. Trying to find a little zen in the repetition has been at times cathartic, but the waves of depression hit like artillery during a siege. They always occur without warning, and one never knows either their duration or severity until they've passed. They range from small episodes of self doubt to existential crisies where one has to remind one's self that suicide would solve nothing. 

        One such existential wave hit once while I was in a classroom full of students. The crisis part of my brain which I've never understood took over. It remembered the Marine Corps Recruit Depot and how drill instructors would intentionally say things to make us laugh, smile or simply gaze in their directions then punish us mercilessly either individually or in masse for "breaking the position of attention." I remembered a guy named Drill Instructor Sergeant Mask. Mask was a tall, thin mahogany colored man with a serious expression tattooed on his face. He had the driest, sardonic wit I've ever experienced in my entire life. Literally everything the man said was hysterical. Sometimes we would burst into laughter the moment the man entered a room because we knew he'd say something funny and whenever we did we simply dropped and started doing pushups before he even gave the order. As I could feel the floodgate of my tear ducts about to open I imagined being an 19 year old idiot at the position of attention with D.I. Sgt. Mask just feet away eyeing my continence for a smirk with which he could annihilate me and I prevailed. Losing it in a room full of teenagers would have obliterated my hard earned reputation of emotionless curmudgeon. 

      The V.A. offers limited psychologist visits and on one of those a psychologist suggested a "support group" and I balked at the notion. When asked the reasons for my disdain of the aforementioned I was quick to give my assessment of what I thought a prostate cancer support group would entail.  

1. As most men aren't effected by prostate cancer until later in life, I imagined I would be the youngest one there. I didn't want a group of old men gazing at me and thinking "Oh that poor kid."

2. More than likely I would be the only SINGLE man there. The literature they give you (what little they give you) says: "the best thing you can have when fighting prostate cancer is a supportive partner." As the woman in my life died early into my battle I didn't want to sit there being reminded of her absence.

3. I'd be bombarded by evangelism. I have no issues with praying or prayer, but have always believed that a belief in God is a person decision. I've never imposed my beliefs on others and never wanted others to do the same to me. Sometimes a person in pain just wants you to listen to them or to give them a real world solution to their problem rather than a verse of scripture. You give a hungry man food, not a psalm about hunger to sustain him. 

The young academic convinced me to attend one of the group sessions and as predicted:

a. I was the YOUNGEST man there. The second youngest participant want 65 years old. The majority of the men present were old enough to have been my father and most were Vietnam veterans. Their eyes seemed to regard me as "the kid".

b. Everyone there to a man said how he wouldn't have been able to make it emotionally without his wife, adult children or grand children and how cancer had gotten them closer to their wives and children. As I had neither I could only sit there and bestow "I told you so" glances at the psychologist. 

c. The phrases "I'm a decon in my church", "If if wasn't for the lord", "Iesvs gave me the strength" and varied verses of biblical scripture began going back and forth to the point where I could only gaze at the psychologist and smile. She stopped a prayer circle from forming after a member asked us to bow our heads and join hands.

      To be fair, while I was "the kid" in that session and the only unmarried man I did feel a little kinship with the men present. We were all fighting the same son of a bitch who had thrown our lives into chaos. One guy in the group admitted that he was more prone to rage than depression. I met a woman once who claimed to be a breast cancer survivor who asserted that she never went through the "why me" phase or had bouts of depression. I told this to a female friend of mine who is a breast cancer survivor who said the woman either: a. was on some serious drugs. b. was a delusional, empty headed Mary Poppins knock off or c. was a lying bitch whose response to someone saying they had cancer was to reply "Oh...I had cancer...I beat it...I'm a survivor" when they know they're not in the club. There is however no "universal" cancer handbook. Some of us bottle up our emotions not wanting to burden those around us. Some express them because we're to scared to do anything else & some of us channel them into other things. 

          Three years in and the waves still hit and I never know when they will. They still fill me with self doubt and sometimes make me question the reason for my own existence, but they're no longer as intense as they once were. Maybe the men and women around me are helping me to develop some coping skills. Maybe my subconscious is telling me that while cancer has killed a good part of me and that part of my life is over, that it's entirety has yet to end. Do I still occasionally feel as if a hard wall of emotional water has knocked the wind out of me and that I'm alone on some deserted beachhead having been left to die my my inner demons or what I presumed to be my best self? Yes. Will that feeing ever subside? At this point I can't say but I'll hope it will. 

          In the mean time I can try to remember that those waves have their own schedule but that I can swim even if I can't do so with the proficiency of an olympic athlete. I can remember what a "Bad Bytch" named Leah told me about how "there's no way to do cancer wrong" and that "this club sucks, but in it's ranks are some of the finest people you will ever know" and I can try to reach out to men and women new to our ranks and let them know that those waves will hit, that they can swim and that they're not alone and I can also do the same for my brothers and sisters whom I know are still fighting who occasionally need to be reminded of the same as I'm sure they'll keep doing the same for me.

       

Survival

[DISCLAIMER: I am a cancer patient. While I may not have any active cancer/cancers in my body at present (that I know of), I'm very cognizant that it could return. I am in no way attempting to say that all cancer experiences are like my own. Each person's cancer journey is like a fingerprint given that each is different. While they may have some commonalities, each persons fight with this affliction differers just as each person differs. Some cancers are more aggressive than others, and not all of us who battle this son of a bitch will prevail. This is a long, and ugly road and I pray for my brothers and sisters who trod this road with me. I remember those who trod it before me like my late grandmother, three of my uncles and five of my aunts.  My heart especially goes out to all the children who suffer with it who were diagnosed before they began to live and all who will walk on this road in the future. My purpose in writing this is to give insight to my battle with something which I'll loathe until the day I draw my last breath and hopefully which won't be the cause of my demise. While I can't and won't attempt to speak for all cancer patients I will say to those NOT on this road who would tell those of us on it how to walk, shut the hell up.] 

 I've had friends who met the SOB whose name I won't mention whose stories need to be told. Out of respect for their families privacy I won't give their full names.

Arturo: He was a big, gregarious Latino musician & bartender who always seemed to be surrounded by a bevy of beautiful women. I met him through a friend and he and I got to be close after I found out that he and I were born in same week. I was born 20 hours before he was and both too close to Christmas. We'd periodically get together on our birthday and get delightfully hammered. One day he reached out to me and informed me that he discovered he was in "the club" (what I call having the c-word) He had been diagnosed with liver and stomach cancer. Like most men, he didn't like going to doctors. He was having abdominal pains and initially thought them indigestion and ignored it. When it became more severe, he took antacids but when it became too much to bear  he finally went to a doctor and learned of his prognosis. A week later he called to tell me that his cancer has spread to his lymph nodes. If they attempted either radiation OR chemo therapy he would have gone into renal failure.  Two weeks later he was dead. We were born in the same year, in the same week and nearly on the same day and were diagnosed in the same year. 

Courtney: She was a redheaded firecracker from San Diego who always had a cigarette between those pouty lips. She had been a Jaguar saleswoman when there WERE no women selling high performance cars and she made a great living doing it. When I met her she was an adorable hippie living in the Montrose surrounded by crystals who supported her self by teaching Reiki and as one of Dione Warwick's "psychic friends". We drifted apart and I learned of her diagnosis after reading her obituary and reaching out to her daughter.

Bonnie: Bon-Bon was a free spirited blonde who said to hell with it in her 20s and ran off to Puerto Rico where she perfected her Spanish and later went to nursing school there. When I met her she was an avid golfer who lived life with a big L and boasted she had the body of a 30 year old. She was 20. years my senior and occasionally called me on Friday and Saturday nights and simply said: "I feel like going to ____. Meet me there."  We went on a few "dates" that weren't dates and she admitted that she liked looking at me, and my presence kept the men her age who would normally be flirting with her at bay. At one point at the House of Blues a gent her age was flirting with her while I was sitting next to her and she crushed him by putting her arm around me, smiling at him and telling him he was "too old" for her. I reminded her she wasn't an actual "cougar" and she told me "Shut up and be pretty." She had survived a bout of cancer but hers came back and she didn't tell me until a week before the bastard took her.  There was a celebration for her at the country club to which she belonged. She had conditions for attending, guests couldn't wear black, had to have happy memories of her and couldn't be "sad" that she was gone but rather happy they'd know her. I was dressed and ready to go but couldn't stop crying so I wound up not going. 

Al: He was one of the toughest guys and one of the kindest men I've ever met. A native of Detroit and career Army NCO I met him through his lovely daughter who is a friend of mine.  I periodically spent Thanksgiving with him and his lovely wife & daughters. He occasionally mockingly called me "princess" (he was an ex drill sergeant) and gave me a hard time about the length of my hair and various other things but, that was his way of saying he cared. He'd fended off the c-word once before but it returned and took him. I attended his funeral and wore the darkest sun glasses I own. I simply couldn't stop crying. He was a great man who had a beautiful family and I always felt welcome in his presence and in his home.

Donita: A tall, silver haired, blue eyed woman from Arizona with whom I bonded because we laughed that she was the ONLY white woman on the planet named "Donita". She lived near the airport and would invite me over to watch animated, Pixar movies and drink wine. She moved back to Arizona and we occasionally talked. One day I called and she sounded weak when she answered the phone. She told me that she had lung cancer and was in the hospital. I could hear how happy she was in her voice. She told me that she was tired and needed some rest but to call her in the morning. I called at 10 the next morning and her daughter answered the phone. She asked: "Is this Jesse?" I said yes and she told me how her mother had died minutes after my call, but that in the time she was caring for her, she'd never seen her so happy. She thanked me for calling and said that I'd made Donita's final moments happy ones. 

Amy: Amy stood about six foot one and looked like a big cupie doll. She had a short blonde bob cut, drank like a fish and swore like the 7th fleet on shore leave. I jokingly called her the female Bacchus and she laughed and embraced the moniker.  She was a Special Education teacher who became one because she hated practicing law. Once when someone stole my identity and a huge company with whom this person had debts which they were paying with my money refused to simply refund me she simply said: "Oh for F--k's sake." she wrote down one sentence and said "in your next email to them, send this at the end." I did and they asked me if I wanted them to cut me a check OR to wire me my money. She fought three different cancers in her life and the last one took her.  Her daughters remember her as both mom AND the life of the party. 

These are the friends I've lost. I won't mention the family members, but with each of their passings I found myself asking why them? I'm oft told of how high a survival rate my specific cancer has. It's almost as if they're telling me that if cancer is a sport those of us with mine are 2nd string Junior Varsity and shouldn't act like "real" cancer patients, but we read about men like the Martin Luther King Jr.'s son Dexter died of it as have countless black men. With the passing of each of these people especially after my diagnosis (Courtney & Bonnie died before I was diagnosed )  I found myself asking why them and not me? Why did people with so much, charm, talent & charisma die while I'm still here? I've never been married. I don't have any children and think my passing would make little difference, but these men and women loved life and their absences left holes in the lives of many. Moreover, there are small children with types of cancer far more severe than mine who are either gone or not long for this world. Why am I here while they were taken? Do I have some mission of which I haven't been made privy or simply don't understand? Am I wrong for feeling guilty that I'm still here and they aren't?  Why am I here when a man with a loving wife, two daughters and three grand daughters has gone on? Why do I get to go on long pointless walks while a gorgeous nurse doesn't get to save people's lives?

       My friend Leah once told me: "there's no way of doing cancer wrong" but there are times since she's told me that when I've felt as if I am doing it wrong.  A shrink I talked to called it "survivor's guilt" I don't know how to deal with it and truthfully the fact that I don't bothers me even more. I have friends (and family) who are also fighting this bastard. Sometimes we talk about what we're going through, sometimes we simply talk about other things. But as Leah told me, there's no way of doing this wrong, I'm just going to have to tell my subconscious that at some point and hope it listens. 

Euopean? That makes one of us.

[DISCLAIMER: I am a cancer patient. While I may not have any active cancer/cancers in my body at present, I'm very cognizant that it could return. I am in no way attempting to say that all cancer experiences are like my own. Each person's cancer journey is like a fingerprint given that each is different. While they may have some commonalities, each persons fight with this affliction differers just as each person differs. Some cancers are more aggressive than others, and not all of us who battle this son of a bitch will prevail. This is a long, and ugly road and I pray for my brothers and sisters who trod this road with me. I remember those who trod it before me like my late grandmother, three of my uncles and five of my aunts.  My heart especially goes out to all the children who suffer with it who were diagnosed before they began to live and all who will walk on this road in the future. My purpose in writing this is to give insight to my battle with something which I'll loathe until the day I draw my last breath and hopefully which won't be the cause of my demise. While I can't and won't attempt to speak for all cancer patients I will say to those NOT on this road who would tell those of us on it how to walk, shut the hell up.] 

Downtown and I'm a few feet away from a bus stop. There is a tiny corner in the facade of a building near a door and out of the sight of cameras, I stood attempting to relieve myself praying no cops drove by.  I had found myself having spent the previous night rising every 30 mins to unsuccessfully do the same.  I'm took the bus because I was in too much pain to drive. The second bus on which I waited would bring me directly to the VA's emergency room. It arrived more expediently than I thought it would  and I painfully lurched into the ER a mere 60 yards away.  The bus stop used to be closer to it, but the hospital administrators complained that the busses stopping there somehow inconvenienced them. 

             Upon entry I told a nurse behind a desk my symptoms and she immediately ushered me into a room with a bed and told me that because I'm a urology patient I needed their on-call doctor to consult. I was curled into a near fetal position on the bed atop some odd pad and within minutes a scared 20 something, freckle faced midwestern blonde in scrubs came in. She asked me my name and some other random information then asked me if I'd ever had a catheter. I nodded and she told me that I'd needed one today.  She was an intern. Am I uncomfortable with interns? Not really, her inexperience was glaring and she wasn't filling me with confidence. I needed a Foley catheter. For those who don't know it's a long tube inserted into one's urethra and anchored by a small balloon which stops it from sliding out. There a few attachments involved and apparently our young intern didn't pay close enough attention to making sure one was secure so when she inserted the tube into my bladder she was baptized in an unexpected but predicable gusher of my urine. She stumbled to seal off the opening from which my precious bodily fluids came forth but the damage was done.  She sent me home with a bag on my leg which I was to drain whenever it got too full.  She also screwed up with it's placement so each time I took a step I found myself in serious pain until it was removed days later. 

          Flash forward to a recent Saturday. I found myself standing at a urinal trying to empty my bladder and having no luck but instead was hearing men in other stalls joyfully doing what I could not. I envied the sound of streams hitting water and the accompanying sighs of relief they emitted, but simply had to get out of there  feeling as if I'd been kicked in the stomach. I braved traffic thinking I was having momentary bladder distress, but by the time I made it home I realized that my enlarged prostate (which would have been large even if I'd never had cancer) was squeezing my urethra shut. It occasionally did it, but not this long or this severely. It was one of the things that happened after the procedure which destroyed my tumors, but had never plagued me before it. 

       I painfully drove to the emergency room at one point pounding my dash board with my fist, screaming out in agony and  was quickly processed on arrival with spiking blood pressure.   The on call urology doctor simply told them to give me a catheter and send me home and they did precisely that. A regular catheter drained 24 ounces from my swollen bladder and I was inexplicably given a 24 ounce IV to replace the "fluids" I lost. I questioned this and mentioned that I wasn't dehydrated, I just couldn't pee.  I was dismissed. 

         The following day I found myself going every 20 minutes but barely. By Midnight Sunday I'd completely shut down. I couldn't sleep and every 20 minutes I found myself painfully attempting to perform a bodily function many happily take for granted. At 4am I got dressed and drove back to the ER on a Monday morning and was greeted my a small, muscular Filipino nurse who asked "Weren't you just here?"  She ushered me back into one of the familiar rooms and I heard a nurse given instructions for my treatment from the shift's head nurse. I couldn't see her but she sounded like every elderly, no nonsense black nurse who knew her stuff so I felt as if I was in good hands. She was the woman you simply didn't question. From the other side of the curtain the voice asked me "Baby ...you know you're leaving here with a catheter today right?" I answered "Fine..fine." Within a minute the other nurse came I and slowly and painfully inserted the rubber tube that drained 30  ounces from my bladder over the next few minutes. I was amazed at both the capacity and resilience of my bladder as I looked at the translucent bag and the contents with which I'd filled it. 

           The head nurse came in and to my surprise she was not an elderly black woman but rather a small round, 30ish Asian woman with a wide grin. "Mr. Handy" she said in syrupy Carolina accent "how you feeling' this morning?" I tried not to let my face show my obvious surprise that she didn't look like the character Lavern from the tv show Scrubs or my forth grade teacher. "Much better than when I came in." She smiled and in a reassuring tone continued: "Baby, you're gonna have to keep that in for the next three days while your body adjusts to it. Just come on in on Thursday so urology can take it out okay?" I nodded "Yes ma'am." I know I had to be at least 15 years her senior but her voice was throwing me off and my reply seemed a conditioned response. She handed me a release form and I drove home as many Houstonians started their day. The sun had yet to come up but my mission was to get home and get some much needed sleep. 

         The cancer journey continues. There are people I know who assume that if you're a cancer patient and you're not confined to a bed and howling in excruciating pain that you should be smiling broadly and dancing and being that "positive" person telling the world  how you're "beating" it. There are good days and bad and unfortunately this one one of the bad few, but in the grand scheme of things my situation could be worse and knowing that sometimes is a heavy burden.