Post-It

Taking Matters Into My Own Hands

/ ludlumdrive / 2 Comments

betbus

I was searching for an appropriate title to this story and could not find one. I was going with “pictures are everything” and then with “the better business bureau” but decided to go with “taking matters into my own hand” because that’s precisely what I did; I took matters into my own hand.

The other day, I get this email, originated from me but I was not the author, to me. I was startled and annoyed. I was selling myself devices – feel good man’s toys and meds. As if I did not have to content with being a woman now I had to content with being a man. How suiting!

I had no idea I was a man; I had no idea I even needed some medications to reshape you know what. Apparently, I needed to balloon it – hoped it did not burst from too much force. Perhaps, the senders knew something better then I, I was not familiar with, but I digressed. Let just say if I were going to do it, meaning buy the he things, I certainly would not be using the site. If there is one thing that we have more than Subway or Dunkin Donuts or guns stores, are these stores. They are plastered everywhere in South Florida. You just have to walk in and pick one to your liking. It ain’t cost you a thing; your energy there is!

I got into a pissy fit mood dance. Instead of deleting and reporting it as a spam, I went to war and did the incredible. You have to understand that I received numerous emails from this people and at risk of losing my private email, though about deleting the account altogether.

Mind you, I have been using this account since before God; before hotmail was even baptized, when AOL was delivering disk’s not CD’s in the mail or you could even pick them up at the supermarket; before, Internet was even allowed to be “surfed”. Yes, I was one of the very first users of AOL way, way when yahoo stocks was still affordable – and I was stupid not to buy it, and goggle was not even born let again taking its first step. So, I felt betrayed!

I was not about to cross my arms from having been “corrupted” by the disgusting email. My privacy had been invaded and I was fuming. I mean, it was not like it was joyous and exciting “view”. Yeah, if the intent was to sell a product they could have at least used something more appealing. That’s my take but nooo, they were not even endearing to look.

The things – the washed up body parts – akin to an old red tomato; withered; an old rat that lost its hair. It was spitting scatty; the skin shapeless, begging for mercy. My thinking was that if I needed to be enticed by an email and rejuvenate my moribund driver gear – remember I am man – that wasn’t it.

There are so many “good” packages out there that they could have used. They could at least attempt to copy and paste Brad Pitt’s, Tom Cruise, Will Smith and Tiger Woods and mold them into one dang on state of the art bowl of soup; they could at least have made it alluring, gorgeous, vibrating instead of a deadbeat dad rundown sacked old buffoon… oh well, never mind. Not even a Brokeback Mountain would have liked that fried chicken!

The fact of the matter is that I did not appreciate the email neither was happy with the fact that my AOL account had been used, let alone compromised for such waste. I was also upset with AOL for having permitted the email to go through. After all, they are supposed to have this mind boggling, one of a kind spam filter. Then again it was coming from me to me so, I guess there wasn’t much they could have done on the subject other then put their feet up and watch it. Still, the content said it all and they could have stopped it; yet how many more email types are there?!

Loaded with a machine gun – my right hand, and high power riffle – the mouse, I got to work. I accessed their website, found their “contact us” section and decided to taunt them like a lion stalking its pray as they did to me.

I first created a script and then went to work. I sent the same email – you don’t dare know the content but to your “four one one” delight (it begun with an f and ended with u; you get me?) so many times that my machine begged for lollipop.

I must have sent a good half hour worth of mails. Though, tiring as it was, it made me feel good. Yeah, it really did.

Not to be undone, a plastered the Dr feel good handy man affiliated with the website – his ramshackle crack head picture was delightfully attached, and let him have it. I indicated that if they continued to use my email without my permission – yes, password has been changed and AOL has been contacted – and I continue receiving the nauseating emails that I was not only reporting his name to the American Medical Association but also to the Better Business Bureau. Lucky me, it just so happens that I work in the same floor with our local office and have commiserated with some of the girls in the bathroom. How convenient! I can just walk up and do the damage.

I might say unconventional or not, good or bad, sadistic or not, the emails stopped. I have not received anything from them for a good while nor am looking for to getting it either.  UPS delivery packages they aren’t and if I were looking for to treat my male scarcity to a snow cone delight, which I am not thank you, I would definitely not use or recommend their services.  They need to learn the tricks of the pound. Pictures are everything but not everything.

So What If She Does?!

/ ludlumdrive / Leave a comment

madonna

So, everyone is madly in love with the idea of Madonna adopting another child from Malawi. They are so exuberant that they are doing the unthinkable, hiding their contentment. They are totally flying kite with it as everyone and everybody are coming out of the woods to utter how bad this is; how there are so many kids in the States who needs a home and she chose to go across the world to “get” one; stamping her as “baby monster”, pointing their fingers at her as she is “buying” the vulnerable. How bad her! Terrible, terrible Madonna!

She is desperately seeking (desperately seeking Susan?!) new ways to grab attention to herself, doing it for publicity. Huh?! Madonna, searching for attention and doing it as publicity stunt, ok! Give me a break.

People, Madonna no longer needs publicity. One word, Madonna, and every butthead in the world knows or heard of her, good or bad, even my poor old mother.

I imagine her going to bed at night, losing sleep, kicking herself out, hurting from what she reads in the media. The truth is, she does not care one bit and continues to discount the naysayers by throwing punches at whatever is irrelevant, to her wants and needs off course.

Has anyone seen her at home? Has anyone seen her tucking the kids to bed at night, reading them stories or changing their diapers – possibly done by the nannies but who cares? Has anyone heard complaints that she is an appalling mother; she has molested or abused her kids? I am sure there are stories but perhaps, an air tied contract may be preventing the salacious stories from blossoming yet the way rumors swales around her, we would have heard it by now.

The cheap consensus is that she should not adopt another child because she does not have morals, yeah and you do; please!  She does not have any ethics, class; yeah, so does Malawi – a nation decimated by AIDS, ravaged by rampant civil conflict, corruption, and not to be undone, rape and child abuse. Yet, no one has accused Madonna of being a bad mother.

Morality, huh? If you don’t have it how can you give, right?

Word on the street is that they are weary of the guys she hangs around with; her special friendships. Oh really? How fast our pointer finger points to the other end! Like a ballerina doll inside of a crystal-clear glass globe full of snowflakes doing a one eighty.

I digress to take a glance at my own mirror folks.

You see, once upon a time, when I was young, pretty and dandy – oh please, I still am, I was involved in a platonic relationship. I swear; I am raising my hand to tell the truth and nothing but the truth so help me God. The only mistake we made was to enjoy each other’s company and listening to any and every little beat dwon monster stories.

Seriously, there was as far as it went. And no, he was not gay. He was very much proud and in control of his manhood (he is now married with kids; it is not a testament but a guarantee). Yet, there was not a soul in the world – that means my peeps, community and other portentous people – who did not accuse us of a cover up, sham or something like none of your business?! But they were sure something was up, there were because it could not be.

Their wonderful deafening need for my low-cost news desecrated their need to be responsible; which leads me to Madonna. Why are we being so press to deny the woman with the opportunity to adopt another child and teh child with a better life? Who’s to say that she is not just being friends with these guys instead of them being her boyfriends? I sympathize!

Really, who are these people criticizing and unable to distinguish between the public from the private persona? So, it is your fault if things go another way, if the adoption is not approved..

Adoption is an enormous commitment; a decision not so hastily taken; it is (and then some) dedication to a being who will never look like you, who will never resemble you, who will never have your physical features or mannerism. It is all pure and noble love. It is not like you assemble the child up and pick she/he from a line up; well in essence you do.

If Madonna wants to give the child a happy life, so be it, let her do it. She is rich enough, has the resources at her fingertips to give this child a home – love, food and first grade medicine; and if she is looking for publicity, more power to her.  Guess who will benefit from it? The poor little precious Mercy James; nothing less, nothing more. She will be the winner and if we could put our dismal stupidity aside temporarily; perhaps, we would be sane to catch a glimpse of her true motive regardless of what it is.

It is interesting to see how all of sudden, rains of people are marching on like mother duck and her little ducklings. They are coming to express their outrage and how they really, really care for this innocent child; how they honestly are trying to protect her from the maniacal evil the “purchaser”, “baby snapper” piranha. People run.

So, Mercy is 4-year-old, live in an orphanage, with no one to hold her, no one to love, no one to tell her stories, no recurrent doctor’s visits or medicine.  Her mother has passed away; her grandmother who has lamented that taking her is “stealing” – I wonder how often she stops by for a visit, and her father who has seen the light and rose up from the ashes (and who certainly will dissipate quickly into the fin air once the camera is turned off), I wonder how often he stops by to give her a kiss or bring her new shoes. I wonder if any one of the Malawian officials belittling Madonna has ever heard of little Mercy or thought of protecting her from AIDS. I wonder if any of these people has ever hugged or held her in their arms.

No people; Kabbalah, not watching TV, not eating animal products, having many boyfriends (then most of the Africa’s population would be going to hell), saving the planet should not be deterrents to not giving a child a home. What we don’t value in life and what life is, is no longer of great importance. It is about saving a soul and if Madonna wants to do it, so let her. I am sure little Mercy will thank her one day.

The Lost Perfect Picture Moment

/ ludlumdrive / 1 Comment

dog

Why I should have carried my camera with me!

Just as I have decided to carry a small notebook – after countless of tore ‘memorable’ stripped pieces of paper (I once used bathroom tissue) and post-it note stickies, to catalog my ever so intrusive thoughts that come racing at every moment; I decided after this enthralling occurrence to at least attempt to carry a camera with me at all times; just in case. One never knows when the ever million-dollar opportunity presents itself. Lol. Keep dreaming!

Anyway, last Saturday, I was on my way to the shopping center when the traffic became a tad too heavy, unhurried for my taste. It wasn’t Sunday, so I could not understand why everybody was on their way to the church.

It was drizzling a bit, so I incurred the thought that it might have been the architect as I saw no other source for “where is everyone going” aspect. To conciliate my flustered soul, I decided to take a shortcut as always do whenever I stumble upon these occurrences. (I have yet to come across anyone who enjoys traffic jam).

Just as I turn right onto a familiar street, neighboring residential communities, leading to the shop, I spotted this figure on the sidewalk to my left, strolling hastily, as if in a hurry.

The lady was approximately 5’7” tall, skinny and exhausted, in her 50’s, wearing nerdy like big eyeglasses, pasty sneakers with blue stripes, long skirt and long sleeveless shirt – she came across like sixty’s groupie – and a plastic scarf covering her locks.

She was pulling a Labrador in her left hand and a stroller on her right. However, the thing that stroked me the most and caught my interest – it could have made one heck of a picture; there is if I was allowed to take it – was what was on the stroller. It was not a baby or perhaps groceries like some debilitated people use it for but a cute, cuddly dog. I can’t pin point the breed but it looked like a Chihuahua from a far and wait, it was wearing sunglasses. How cool!

It was amusing; the picture looked perfect. The little creature just sat there without a care in the world, as if it was a queen, enjoying the journey and whatever it was taking it. I loved it. I thought about stopping and use my cell’s camera but chose to drive away instead. It was one amazing sight, one that could have made the front page had I been able to take the picture.