Who Ya Gonna Call? Ghostbusters!

Remember the friend, and I use the term loosely, who I wrote about who tells these ridiculous lies? No? Okay, maybe not if you're new, but that just means it's time for you to do your homework. Dig in the archives. I was reading some stuff from last year (and I realized I missed my blogiversary) and I had my own self laughing. Some of the stuff made me mellow, but it allowed me to see where I was and where I am now.

Let's call this friend Angel. She went to Minnesota to stay with her boyfriend's family. To me that's pretty serious stuff. You're going 1000+ miles away from home to live with your significant other's folks for about two months in their house. Well while they were there she'd call me from time to time just to let me know how things were going and whatnot. Most of the time I'd ig her calls because if I'm not in the mood to hear a bunch of stuff that I don't find credible or relevant I just won't take your call. Sometimes if I know you're gonna tell me a bunch of lies and I'm not in the mood to hear a bunch of lying, that might get your call ignored as well. Hear me clearly. I like to be entertained, so many times I'll take the call just so I can see how many lies she's going to tell this time or see if I can get her to change/modify/enhance a story that she's already told me before. I know she's a chronic liar, but every now and then just to be JayBee I'll call her on a lie and watch her squirm and try to back peddle and use a conjuncting lie (just made that up) to try to make all the divergent stories converge.

At some point over the course of these two months or so she called me and told me her boyfriend, hereinafter Wayne, was being controlling and mean to her. She claimed he didn't want her going out during the day by herself. Mind you he had to work during the day along with his parents so basically that left her home alone with nothing to do. I guess she could watch t.v. and vacuum but how much of that can one person do before they are bored out of their mind? This went on for a while and on one of the calls she told me she went out during the day without his knowledge and he found out. Well that caused an argument that turned physical. Because of her noncompliance with his directive he told her from now on she'd stay in the basement while they were away at work. The basement locked at the top of the stairs so basically she was a prisoner in their home.

After the lockup she'd call me whispering telling me what was going on. Sometimes she'd abruptly hang up the phone and call back in a few minutes and say things like she thought she heard someone coming. I left this out. Somewhere in all this mess he told her she wasn't to talk on the phone while she was alone either so that's why she was whispering.

Here's what's wrong with the whole my-boyfriend-abused-me-and-locks-me-in-the-basement story. First of all, if someone has become physical with you and you choose to stay, there ain't no need of telling anyone about it. The persons with whom you share your story are going to look at you like you're crazy especially if that someone is me. I know the damaging affects of abuse. I can in nowise condone you staying in that situation waiting on it to happen again. I am a 99.8275% firm believer in the if it happened once it'll happen again thing. Maybe 0.1725% of the time there might be an exception.

There has already been a word coined in the English language that labels the concept of someone holding you somewhere against your will. It's called kidnapping. If you expect me to believe your story, keeping in mind that your credibility with me is zero, why the phuck are you calling me? I'm hundreds of miles away. Call the freaking police. They are the ones who are trained to deal with situations like this. Not me. I'm just a school teacher.

If Wayne has you locked up, why the hell did he just not take the phone out the basement? In that way he could ensure that you had no contact with the outside world. Unless he thought you were scared to death of him, why be so brazen as to risk you calling the police or your family or JayBee who could give a phuck less (if you've never heard that expression, it's worse than not giving a [whole] phuck; it's less than a phuck)?

Unless his parents are from Venus, I don't think they would condone their son locking you in a basement for nine hours a day. When he let you out of the dungeon, I'm thinking dinner time, you never once said anything to his peeps about what Wayne was doing to you everyday?

Of course not, Angel, because it was all a lie. And just like the other gross lie, (if you didn't click the link read the other story) it made absolutely no sense. There were too many holes and unanswered questions. It's actually kinda insulting when someone tells you a lie and hasn't taken the time to think through all the questions they might be asked so as to develop plausible answers. It's like oh, so you think I'm as stupid as you, huh? Surely you don't believe down in your tortured soul that I believe this crap. Let's say it was true and I'm totally off on thinking you're being untruthful. You should have called Ghostbusters. They're real too.

Untitled

Only three others share this secret, our friends the Sorceress, Man-At-Arms and Orko. Together we defend Castle Grayskull from the evil forces of---oh wait, I just had a HeMan flashback. Seriously though not a lot of people know what I'm about to share. It is our life experiences, environment and level of exposure to sundry things that shape who we are, influence how we behave, and provide a framework from which to draw expressions used in common vernacular. One of my expressions is "I don't hook for free." Let's examine where that came from.

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Lisa was my skinny aunt who was maybe fifteen or sixteen at the time. I was roughly five or six. I wish I had some baby pictures on hand from that age. I was so cute! Anyway, not the point of the story. Actually Lisa wasn't really my blood aunt. She was my grandfather's adopted daughter. Rumor had it that she was actually another man's child but he adopted her anyway. My grandfather and Lisa's mother had three other daughters together, but Lisa was always rumored to the illegitimate child of Deloris, Lisa's and my other aunts' mom. Everybody engaged her like they did everyone else because for sure the four girls were sisters even if her paternity was in question.

We stayed in a small town in southeast Georgia. The population was 702 at the 2000 U.S. Census. That small. There was a set of railroad tracks that separated the "sides" of town. My granddaddy's property was about 2.5 acres and had two houses on it. We lived in one house and he lived in the other one. Since the houses were only yards apart sometimes we ate dinner at either house. It was not uncommon for my mom to cook at our house and then walk down and cook at my grandfather's house. Mind you, he had four daughters living with him, but my mom would still cook over there sometimes. He was particularly fond of her potato salad and pig feet. Yeah, that kinda country.

I don't remember exactly when it happened, but it happened over a period of time. When I would come inside from being outside playing or when Lisa would come outside to get me from playing we'd go "make up granddaddy's bed." That was the name assigned to the deed. What it really meant was we were going to go in granddaddy's bedroom and hunch, at first. Then it progressed to me having to take off my clothes and attempt to penetrate her. She guided me though the process of how to "make a woman feel good." What a foolish proposition to think that a 5-6 year old boy could make a teenager, much less a woman, feel anything.

I knew absolutely nothing about any of the other mechanics necessary to engage in copulation. I can remember her becoming annoyed when it would slip out and she'd have to put it back in. The realism is that you can see how that could happen at 5-6 years old. If I didn't seem into it she also become annoyed. I knew what we were doing was wrong, but I was young.

It didn't always just happen when we were home alone. Sometimes my grandfather would be in the front room asleep. He slept so hard because he worked at a factory and did hard labor. She would usually put the night stand in front of the door to prevent anyone from barging in on us. After a while I began to tell her that I didn't want to do that anymore. Each subsequent time she would tell me that it would be the last time and that she was going to buy me some Ruffles Sour Cream and Cheddar potato chips and a Sprite. These happen to be some of my favorite junk food snacks even now. She even told me that my younger brothers didn't mind making up granddaddy's bed with her and that she had already bought them their chips and soda. In my ignorance I reluctantly agreed to continue with hopes of securing my prize for my obedience.

Like Chinua Achebe entitled one of his books, "Things Fall Apart." We had no reasons to expect anything to go wrong because we had gotten away with it for so long. Notice the pronoun shift. Even though I was young, I knew this was wrong. I did not try to stop it. I could have told my parents, yet I let it persist. The last time it happened my mother came down the hall pushed the door slightly, felt the resistance of the night stand, but was able to peer into the room and see what was going on. I know she got a full eye view because I would see her eyes through the crack. I was scared and nervous as hell, because I knew this wasn't going to be pretty. I'll skip the details on the fall out but I'll say it included a belt, a knife, some blisters and closer monitoring.

To top it all off I still didn't get my chips and soda. When people ask me to do something and I remark, "I don't hook for free," this is where that saying came from. I don't like to be taken advantage of. I like to know what you're going to be able to do for me before I put myself out. Some people might think this extremely crude that I would make light of this situation. To the contrary, I just can't profit anything from dwelling on the past. I allowed myself to be abused for the promise of some goods in return. That's pretty much was hooking/prostitution is. I remember the first time I said it to my supervisor when I agreed to be chair of the leadership team. She was looking at me like she had no clue what I was talking about. For a brief moment I thought I had gone too far, but after I asked her if I was going to get an extended contract, she came back (she looked out of it for a second) and told me yes. I mean, the situation is different because I was a child, but it's pretty much the same. I don't have any hard feelings toward her and I think I'm pretty well adjusted. Prior to reading this, would you have ever guessed?

The subject of child molestation, especially among black families is taboo, but happens so much more often that most care to think about or admit.

Off the subject, but what is it about saying, "This shouldn't leave this room," or "Don't tell anybody," that makes people just run and tell whatever you asked them to not tell? I know that usually when people say that to me, I interpret it as only tell the one person who you always tell stuff. Sometimes though depending on the seriousness of the issue it really means don't tell anyone at all. A situation happened this past week on the job when we were in a meeting and asked to not divulge what had been discussed. It got out and I had people coming up to me on Friday asking about what was said at the meeting--including the building principal. Why can't people keep their mouths closed?

Preachers Gone Wild

I guess it's time for me to weigh in on what has happened. In case you live in the back woods, renowned prophetess* Juanita Bynum was assaulted by her estranged husband. According to the reports that I have read she and her husband were having dinner at a restaurant near Hartsfield Jackson in Atlanta. (Well really it's in College Park, but you know what we're saying.) Somewhere along the way they had a discussion that apparently got kinda heated and outside the restaurant/hotel (not clear on which one) her husband, Bishop Thomas Weeks III (yes I put the whole government out there) hit choked, and stomped on her. The alleged assault continued until a bellman pulled him off her. Just a little more background. They got married in 2002 in a very lavish televised ceremony. He was already a bishop and she was already in heavy rotation in all the church markets (TBN/with Bishop Jakes/hosting her own empowerment conferences, one of her most famous ones is "No More Sheets").

Apparently a while back Weeks told his congregation that there was trouble in paradise and Juanita would be having a less active role in the ministry. Basically if she came to church she would be holding down a pew instead of preaching.

Several things come to mind about this situation. Is he jealous of her success? I would argue that she is leaps and bounds more popular than he is. I have heard a rumor that the reason that they were separated in the first place is that Juanita questioned some of the close relationships he has with some of the male members of the congregation. Did she call him a faggot and is that when he beat the sh*t out of her? Also, to stomp on someone is indicative of the passion with which you despise them.

At first he didn't turn himself in to the authorities. Now he has turned himself in, been released on bond and --get this-- has entered a NOT GUILTY plea. WTF? So let me get this straight, you jumped on her in a parking lot, and ole dude had to pull you off her and you want us to waste time and energy on a fuggin' not guilty plea? This negro better not use a self defense argument, lest I drive to Duluth and smack him myself.

I'm getting ready to make a confession. As I am a full participant of this capitalistic society I have already developed a plan to take this unfortunate set of circumstances and turn it into a huge money maker. You know how gullible and pliable church people are. I'm certain that my idea can work. I was even reading some stuff online where people were saying let's just pray for him and whatnot. They didn't feel like he needed to go to jail. He just needs prayer. Why can't we pray for him while he's in jail?

One thing that is significant for me is how people already have so much ought against preachers. For him to do this only reinforces some of the negative views that some people harbor. I can hear someone saying, "I might not go to church, but at least I don't beat my wife." On some levels they would be justified. How do you step to this person to convince them that church can make a difference for them? What people, particularly, those who wear the cloth have to be sensitive to is that they are being watched. If he causes droves of people to leave the church/terminate their active relationships with God, then their blood will be on his hands.

*prophetess: She's supposed to be able have information/potential events revealed to her by divine providence. She couldn't foresee that azz whoopin'?

What Were They Thinking?

How many times are we going to read in the news about couples abusing their kids? Unfortunately this type of behavior has become commonplace. The latest episode stars a couple from north Georgia that has been described as "extremely religious." I wonder what that means. I suppose it means that they adhere to strict codes of conduct with regard to the activities and associations that are and are not allowed. Anyway, the story is in an attempt to punish their eight year old son they beat him and put him inside a box. Apparently the young boy suffocated in the box because when they went to check on him, he and I quote, "...wasn't quite moving." Prior to this this same couple had a practice of having their children go in a closet when they misbehaved. I guess to seem concerned, they had cameras installed in the closet that was used for punishment so that they could monitor their children. To me it is inconceivable that a parent would be so unjust, so cruel to their own flesh and blood.

Fast forward to the trial. Both parents have been cutting the monkey crying in court. They are so sorry because they didn't intend for him to die. How ever true that might be, if you put a kid in a box that wasn't really built with ventilation in mind, (because children don't belong in boxes), you cannot be upset if the kid dies. It is the negligence of the parents that has made this situation manifest itself.

I grew up in a household that was stricter than a lot of my friends' homes. We went to church every Sunday, prayer meeting and Bible study on Wednesday, choir rehearsal on Tuesday and Saturday and did other stuff as necessary for upcoming events and special programs. I was never locked in a box though. (Considering some of the abuse I had to take, locking me in a box is probably lesser of two evils.)

I don't feel very much sympathy for the parents. I know a part of them is hurt because of the loss of the child and the loss of the lives that they once enjoyed. I'm saying loss of the lives that they once enjoyed because they are almost certainly going to jail. They also had other children who probably suffered as well at the hands of their abuse and irrational discipline methods. I read somewhere that one of the motivating factors for the parents placing the youngster in the box was that he was possessed by the devil. I wonder if they'll use the "The Devil Made Me Do It" defense in court.