"My grandfather was the only Mexican at his college, the only Hispanic person at work and the only one at the all-white country club. He tried to forget his Mexican roots, because he never wanted his kids to be made to feel different in America. He and my grandmother didn't speak Spanish to their children. Now, as a third-generation American, I feel as if I have finally cut loose."-Jessica Alba

Oh baby, say it isn't so! Please tell me they misquoted you! You were drunk? High? Lacking sleep? Received a recent, violent blow to the head? Or perhaps you were joking? Please???

Seriously, do you want to know why this hurts so bad? Because I'm guilty of it too. Yes, I am ashamed to admit it.

Whenever I accompanied my father to run an errand and heard him "Espeek Eenglich" as other people walked past us laughing or giving us the look...I felt ashamed. Of what? I don't know. I can't understand it these days. But I do recall feeling embarrassed in those days.

Perhaps it was the fact that my father was not the best looking man. Maybe it was because he dressed poorly, and was oblivious to the fact that people laughed at him and his Eenglich. I saw it. I know. I tried to distance myself, as if walking a few steps away was going to conceal the fact that this wetback kid was the obvious offspring of this man butchering the language.

****************************************************************************

  Here is one of my Kung Fu flashbacks....

...circumstances that would take too long to describe, led me to be confronted by a group of hostile, tattooed hooligans, just seconds away from performing the long lost art of the laying on of hands. They were very intent on teaching this unbeliever of their magical gift...their ability to convert me to their way of thinking.

But I held my ground. Incredulous. Besides, there were five of us. Our five, against their eight were beatable odds. It wasn't unheard of.  I looked over my shoulder, behind me...my friends were gone. They left me. They must have gotten scared when they saw the group approaching. But then, I looked to my right...there he was. Cesar. All 105 lbs of him. His 14 year old body shaking as he held his fists up...the only one who stayed back with me despite the futility of such a thing. That act alone placed him in my familia, category. He didn't leave me. He stayed and took his chances. His loyalty to me was unsurpassed.

******************************************************************************

I've always admired Cesar (rest in peace, homie) for that. And yet, the utter disgust I had for my cowardly and soon to be sorry, friends was all that I focused on back then. To say that their cowardice made my stomach turn is an understatement. And yet...that's EXACTLY what I did to my father on more than one occasion. OUCH! That stings.

Hopefully, Jessica, you learn as I did that there is beauty in our culture. There is nothing to feel ashamed about. Be proud of where you came from.

-Miguel

Tupac? Do you have any thoughts on this?

"AMERIKA, AMERIKA, AMERIKKKA
I charge you with the crime of rape, murder, and assault.
For suppressing and punishing my people.
I charge you with robbery~ for robbing me of my history.
I charge you with false imprisonment ~ for keeping me
Trapped in the projects
And the jury finds you guilty on all counts
And you are to serve the consequences of your evil schemes"

Please excuse the lack of posting, but I've been busy. I also want to thank all of you and all of your messages/comments asking if I'm alright. I am, and hopefully back on track. I miss posting more than all of you like reading, I think. So here it goes....

Oh, the devastation! It's a terrible blow when a child comes to the realization that the people they trust the most have been lying to them. Santa and the Easter Bunny are not real???. How can this be? But then, Mom and Dad explain that it was all "pretend" and that their deceit was really for our own benefit...somehow, the child accepts this...and eventually learns to believe the parents again. But the lies don't end there...

"If you keep making that face...it will stay that way!" Yeah, that's another one of those for your own good type of things. We eventually realize that this is not true...but again, we eventually forget about that and we trust our parents.

"If you sit too close to the TV, you'll go blind!" <== yeah. Another jewel. Same results.

Then we get to our teens and start experimenting with our bodies...and not surprisingly, the lies continue. "If you don't stop that, you will get hairy palms."  "You can go blind." (speaking of which, what's up with all the threats about losing our sight?) "You will get really bad acne."  and of course my personal favorite, "God will stop loving you." And girls don't have it any easier ==>

"You can get pregnant by kissing a boy in the dark." Of course, these lies are no longer believable...especially with sex ed classes starting in elementary school.

Do you have a point, Miguel? Why, yes...I was just getting to that. You see, we as parents lose our credibility long before we really need our kids to listen and believe what we say. That's why it's so important to have a trusting relationship with our children. If we don't have that, there's nobody to blame...except ourselves. Just a tip from your favorite Tio.

-Miguel

***I started a post and then changed my mind. I left the old title on. Drakonskyr caught it....so this is for him ==>

I'm not much of a gambler...but I do enjoy an occasional bus trip to Nevada. I usually go to Montego Bay, and this weekend was no exception. After enjoying the King Crab buffet...to the point of looking like a pregnant woman just shy of her ninth month, I made my way towards the10 dollar minimum, Blackjack table. And as usual, it was win some/lose some. But lady luck was with me. I was actually up about four hundred dollars at one point. I left as soon as the dealer moved to another table. Finding S.O. at the bar's slot machines, I shared my good fortune by slipping her an additional hundred. It was a good night thus far...

Then we decided to go visit her friend who works at a place, shining poles with her butt cheeks. Yeah, it didn't take much convincing, but I played the part. So, we're in the place like 30 seconds and have already been asked what we want to drink twice.

"Corona with lime"(Me) "And I'll have a Sex On The Beach."(S.O.)

"That'll be twelve fifty." (Waitress) <== WTF??? Damn!

"Does that come with a free lap dance or something???" (Me)

"No." (unamused Waitress)

So, it wasn't what I expected. The girls seemed to be third string bench players. But there was one all star who went by the name ShyAnn (her spelling, not mine) who caught my ever wandering eye. So much, in fact, that S.O. suggested I close my mouth to prevent further drool from escaping down onto the floor. Long story short and one hundred twenty dollars later, I realized that we were late! We were going to miss the bus! We called a taxi and headed back. When we were within a hundred feet, we saw our bus going up the freeway on-ramp!  Damn! Damn! Damn! ShyAnn's badonkadonk had sealed our fate.

"Oh well, we will have to spend the night." (Me) "Ok." (S.O.)

"We're very sorry sir, but there are no more rooms available at this time." (Hotel Desk Clerk)

"What about another Casino?" (Me)

"Sorry, there are no rooms available anywhere. Perhaps you might try the Motel 6?" (Hotel Desk Clerk)

"You know, vieja...It's four in the morning. Even if we got a room, we would have to leave in like 4 hours. Let's just make the best of it and keep playing." (Me)

So, after two ATM trips of one hundred and two dollars each, I realized that I had done what they wanted me to do...KEEP PLAYING. Not only was I down all of the money I came with, but also my winnings and all the money from the ATM transactions. Shit! Wait, it gets better...

I realized shortly thereafter, that I had an unheard message on my cell phone. Turns out that our babysitter was leaving at 8:00 am. And we were still two hours away. We were desperate. I even called a Taxi service and asked how much it would be to get us home...

"$ 450.00, but unfortunately, there are no available Taxis at this time. Perhaps after nine?" (Taxi Service)

So, now we were experiencing the expression, "Up Shit Creek."

And then the most unexpected thing happened....

TO BE CONTINUED...

Sorry about the wait...I just couldn't keep my eyes open. Anyway...

So the only choice we had was to have someone who was leaving take us to our car that was an hour and a half away. Problem....my pride. I hate asking people for favors or for help. Not to mention the fact that I'm not the most friendly looking chap. But the thought of having my little ones alone in my house was a hellava motivator. I asked people who were leaving for a ride, offering them gas money and more if they wanted. No luck. I even asked a few Hispanic people, and got nothiung but excuses. I didn't expect that from my own people. So after being embarrassed, and having a large dose of rejection, we just stood near the casino entrance. We just watched people leave without saying a word.

A few moments later a couple walked past us and got to the parking lot. It was really cold, so the lady walked back into the lobby while her husband brought the car. I made a comment and she smiled. She exchanged a few words with S.O. and asked if we were waiting for our ride. S.O. just told her our story. She apologized for not being able to help and left.

A  few minutes after that, a black dude with a toothpick in his mouth came into the casino. He had a gruff exterior and a frown on his face. He was looking around suspiciously. My survival mode kicked on and I was ready for anything.

"Are you the couple that the bus left behind?" (black guy)

"Yeah."(me)

"How far are you going?"(black guy)

"About a hundred and fifty miles west."(me)

"I'm headed that way myself, let me give you a ride." (black guy)

"Are you serious?" (me)

"Yeah, come on." (black guy)

We got into his nice extended cab truck. He pulled out a blanket and wrapped up S.O. in it. In the front seat was the lady we spoke with a few minutes before.

So it turns out that they weren't going our way. They lived a few hours in the opposite direction. They took us to our car and didn't even ask for anything. Mike took 40.00 in gas money but only after I insisted over and over again. It was an amazing display of charity. The thought that kept going through my head was that of he and I sharing stories and conversation just two feet of each other. Smiling and laughing, and enjoying each other's company. Meanwhile, in Los Angeles the biggest race war in gang history is alive and well. Prisons, even worse. Black and brown at each other's throats. Death is all around. And yet, despite that, I am the recipient of kindness from my black brother. I was in his debt.

Mike and his wife, Alika, taught us that there is hope for the future. God bless you both.

Please excuse the mini hiatus from my beloved Xanga, but I've been really busy at work...keeping the parking lot clean is a never ending assignment it seems. Seriously though, between work and family, there has been little time for anything else. Let me just apologize to my faithful subscribers who come visit looking for an update. It's weird but I feel guilty when I don't post. As ridiculous as it may sound, I feel an obligation to post for my subscribers and friends. Of course, truth is, you can more than likely visit a chimp at your local zoo and be just as entertained and uplifted as when you come to read my stuff. But in my mind at least, I feel I have something worthwhile to say most of the time...okay, some of the time...er....okay, once in a while...okay, okay, on rare occasions. Moving on...

 What ever happened to true Christianity? Was there ever a time when people really lived in peace and harmony? Ever a time when everyone loved each other and didn't see religion as an exclusive club that made you that much better than the man beside you? A time when you truly wanted to extend a helping hand to someone in need, without any hidden agenda, or thoughts of your reward in heaven? Was there ever such a time? Is there such a place now? If there is, I've never heard of it.

The message used to be about hope. After all Gospel, derived from old English god-spell, which means "good news" or "good tidings." These days it seems it's all about damnation and destruction and how if you don't belong to THIS church, you belong to the Devil. And what's up with all these churches that dedicate so much time tearing down other people's beliefs and religion? Don't they have better things to do with their time? I mean, seriously...wouldn't that time be better spent looking for people who don't believe or know about Jesus than to print pamphlet after pamphlet about how THAT church is wrong because they sprinkle water on people. THAT church is wrong because they believe that only 144,000 will be saved...or because they dance around and clap during their service and not being reverent.

Are you serious??? What the hell is wrong with you people? How can you distort the message in this way? Do you know why that is? I'll tell you. Because people rarely read and ponder the Bible on their own. They'd rather read the condensed version from Pastor Bob, or Brother Earl, or Reverend Smith.

---Gotta go to work... more later..

Damn! I can't believe I misspelled later.

Normally, a little thing like being slightly inebriated would not deter me from a post. Worst case, I'd make it protected and rant about religious ideas that defy common beliefs and even borderline insanity. But yesterday was the exception. I didn't feel like writing. I apologize. Besides, I was being the victim...and self pity is a waste of time. I do however like my title immensely. Inspiration, it seems, comes from the bottom of the bottle on rare occasion.  

Seeing one of my kids with temporary tattoos threw me for a loop. Yeah, I may have overreacted. But if there's one thing I know it's that I'd rather suffer hellfire for an eternity, then to have one of my kids follow in the footsteps of my past. And perhaps a washable tattoo is no reason to save money for a lawyer... but I'm sure you parents out there understand.

It just so happened that I was eating chinese food yesterday and I read pu pu platter on one of the menu items. And I started thinking, yeah, I've been forced to eat from the poo poo platter before. But then, who hasn't? We all go through things that shape and mold us into what we are today. And who is to say that those experiences weren't actually necessary for our growth? Not in every case I'm sure...but is the idea so ludicrous? 

It's easy to fall into the victim mode in life. Easy to blame everyone else for all the things that go wrong in our lives. Easy to blame God, or even deny his existence just so we can feel better about ourselves. Woe is me, woe is me! But you know what? If you continue down that path, you'll always be miserable. And the secret to surviving life's misfortunes can be as easy as just asking yourself, what am I going to do about it? We can't always choose what happens to us, but we can however, choose how we REACT to those situations. Do we learn from them? Do we strive to find solutions? Or do we just throw our hands up in frustration and or shake our fist in the air at God, and blame him for everything? One leads to freedom and eventual happiness, the other, well...let's just say that I don't care to find out.

THOUGHTS???

Years ago, as I walked through the streets of downtown Los Angeles I never thought much about the homeless. I mean that in two ways. I mean, thought much, as in the homeless were never really on my mind, and also, thought much, as I didn't think they were worth a shit. I'm not proud of it, but I admit to feeling that way. The reason I felt that way was because I had been there before. I had been homeless, and at the young age of thirteen no less, and now, I was no longer homeless. I did the things that I had to do in order to come up. So in my mind, they were homeless because they wanted to...they had no heart. They were cowards.

But things aren't always black and white like that. Perhaps they chose to remain homeless rather than resorting to selling drugs to children and pregnant mothers. Perhaps they chose to shiver at night, with only newspaper to keep them warm rather than to commit armed robbery and perhaps end up taking a life. Maybe the thought of purse snatching and back alley beat downs wasn't something they'd like to look back on? If that's the case, then isn't that a good thing???

One thing is certain, they know how you see them. It's been 29 years since it happened, and yet I recall the embarrassment I felt as I saw the way people looked at me as I sifted through the garbage at a restaurant looking for food. I felt dirty. Low. Worthless. But hunger is a motherfucker, people...and the pain in my stomach made me swallow what little pride I had left, as my instinct to survive kicked in full blast. The funny thing is that my reaction wasn't anger, though it should have been...it was an awful feeling of low self worth. I think back on that and wonder how people can see that and not take pity? At the very least not giggle in amusement or give you a look of disgust!

Walking down the same streets these days, you'll be amazed to see tents everywhere. Cardboard boxes are almost obsolete. And though at first it may seem like a good thing...it's not. In my mind it just makes that situation seem more hopeless. More permanent. As if they are giving up altogether and making the best of it. Sad.

Even I don't think I've earned the right to judge...though I know what it's like to sleep in urine smelling freeway underpasses... I can't assume that I know all situations and reasons why people live survive this way. What I do know, is that I can't call myself a Christian, or even HUMAN for that matter, if I refuse to help someone in need. You never know what life will throw your way, and it may be you (or me) out there one day. Yes, chances of that may be slim, but that shouldn't contribute to feeling indifference.  After all, though the first recorded question posed to God by a man never really received an answer....the answer is:

Yes! You are your brother's keeper!

A few days ago, I was talking with someone, via private messages, about violence in video games and television and how it contributes to kids being more violent these days. I believe that we were in agreement.

Maybe it's just me, but I am so sick of hearing people cast blame on everything under the sun, except where the true responsibility lies.

Oh, man! Violence everywhere! How an a kid be expected to see these things and not imitate them??? These poor kids! Oh wait...

So based on what I grew up watching and playing, I should be thankful that I'm not a cross-dresser, or an adventurer that uses crocodile's heads to skip across the lake in search of gold. And thank God that I never used pliers and hammers on my friend's noses or jabbed my fingers into their eyes! Or think that all black bears are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. Or think that nuns really fly or that putting on a cape, underwear and boots somehow makes me impervious to bullets!

What ever happened to parenting? Why do you have to blame Tupac and Snoop or Halo and Silent Hill? You know if you spent some time raising your children and actually talking to them...I know, that's such a weird concept...maybe they wouldn't be so messed up. If you just sit them in front of the television all day or let them play video games all day long, then blame yourself!

Thoughts?

Last night, over dinner, we were discussing women always trying to change men. This has been a topic that comes up often, as it really bugs me to see my good friend slowly change into a tamed, polished version of what he used to be. I mean, even the clothes he wears are different to what they were a few years back. His supposed taste in music, the food he orders and even the way he speaks...all changed since he got married. And maybe I've changed without realizing it either, but at the very least, I dress, eat and like Tupac....the same as always. So anyway, I was reading an article on what women want in a man in "iVillage" and here's a condensed list in no particular order:

"He should take care of himself, mentally, physically and spiritually" (So in other words, have huge, glistening pectoral muscles, know how to read and write, believe in God, and wash your ass occasionally.)

"He's always pointing out the good things about me but he loves me for my faults too." (So in other words you don't want us to ever bring up anything negative about you. Never mention your tremendous tank ass or cottage cheese, or your ever increasing number of chins. Compliments, compliments and more compliments.)

"In touch with his feminine side. He will watch Ally McBeal with me and not make sarcastic remarks." (So in other words, pluck your unibrow, trim that jungle you call an ass, smell like a flower boutique, and leave your balls at home while watching tv.)

"He MUST have a good sense of humor!" (In other words, be your personal clown or comedian for your viewing pleasure, never letting on opportunity go by without sputtering out some witty and perfectly timed remark to make you giggle like a teenage girl after her first kiss.)

"Sensitivity is key, but not to the point of being wimpy. I still need to feel like he can protect me" (So in other words, we have to cry while watching Oprah giving away cars, sing hymns to you as you lie in bed with severe menstrual cramps...and if some knife-weilding hooligan tries to take your purse containing two dollars...we must pretend to be Steven Seagal and be willing to die protecting it's contents.)

 "He should be able to kiss away all his woman's pains and still manage to send chills down her spine when he does." (So in other words, you want us to have a vast knowledge of medicinal herbs and plants to the point just short of being a witch doctor... as we kiss and apply porno tongue techniques on you.)

"Financially Stable. He doesn't have to be rich, just financially responsible." (So in other words, we must be able to buy you that Louis Vuitton purse that's on sale for $9,000.00 once we've been together for a month...even if it means working overtime for the next three years in order to recover.)

"He should hold you in bed at night when you are cold and not pull away even though he is sweating to death." (So in other words, sleeping is all about you and your comfort. Even if that means jabbing your knees into our back and taking up all the room on our king size bed, or taking all three blankets away, or forcing us to contort and twist into Gumby-like poses so that you'll be comfortable...it's all about you.)

Well, there were a few other things on the list, but this was basically it. So in order to better understand I thought long and hard about it, and I think I know EXACTLY what you women are looking for...THE PERFECT MAN!  ===>

-Miguel

What do you think???

'Tis the season to be blasphemous it seems. I often wonder how hard it must be for God to see us disrespect him when he knows he could smash us like tiny ants with just a thought. It never ceases to amaze me.

And people sometimes go beyond the point where even I would go. And I say that because I've already come to terms with my destiny and what my future holds. When I die, I'm sure that I'll be on the express (V.I.P.) elevator to hell. Even still, I choose to have the slightest hope that...well, let's just say that I have a little hope.

 Certain things shouldn't be made fun of...it's common sense or at least basic etiquette. Moving on...

I finally decided what my New Years resolutions will be. One, lose some weight, at least until I no longer look like Punky Brewster when she grew up. And two, limit my drinking to a few times a year. Both are very achievable for me. Wish me luck! Happy New Year to you all! I'll be back before too long to continue my post. Stay tuned for "Blasphemy Part II."

Have fun Tonight! Happy New Year!