George Carlin - May 12, 1937 – June 22, 2008

Who will fill his footprints?

If ever asked who were the most progressive, forward thinking comedians of our time naturally I will say Richard Pryor, but co-chairing that biumvirate, would be George Carlin.

I grew up with Richard, but I didn't know of Carlin's work until I saw him on some special on TV back in '77. I didn't think he was funny then, but later realized why. In the 80s we had cable and particularly, we had HBO. My mother worked at nights around this time, so I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up at some point to Carlin at Carnegie or whatever and I thought he was funny as shit. Like Pryor, Carlin's art was shaped and reflective of the culture and politics of 60s and early 70s. While Richard may have reflected strongly on the inner cities and black people in particular, Carlin's focus was on the world and was a bit more confrontational. Carlin also gave us the world of absurdities but only as a slight exaggeration of the absurdities in real life.
If you are an inspiring comedian and you admire Carlin and Pryor, you couldn't have picked better fathers. While many try to imitate the later (and always fail miserably), most comedians of today don't even try to touch the former.

The last show I saw of Carlin's was an HBO special and he had, for the first time admitted that after 9/11, he saw himself listening to and following the "authority figures" that he never listened to in his day. In other words, after the towers went down he began to listen the President, Pentagon chiefs of Staff, and others who gave us the Color Code Watch of Fear. I was slightly disappointed in Carlin, but not surprised looking at the fact that he seemed to be the few left of his generation who still clung on to political ideas and cynicism of his day. I guess everyone has their limits. What would be mine? Anyway, the rest of the show was good as always.

I feel bad for those who are too young to know who Carlin was or what he truly represented. Now you got comedians who just do beer jokes and wave the flag. Some may think that Lewis Black can hold Carlin's flag as reflected in bulletin boards I've read this morning, but I doubt that.
Black is funny, acidic, and witty, but not exactly progressive. He may be anti-conservative, but he's only cynical when it comes to liberal politicians and figures; ultimately giving them a pass, not exactly tearing at the fabric of American politics in my view.
I guess when it comes down to it, we are not here to be replaced for imitation, but we are here to make our footprint and hopefully others will take steps to finish the path.

Interspecies Dating

I admit, I'm a flawed man. I have my prejudices and I'm trying to work them out, but last night as I was procrastinating over my next Class Traitor post, I had overheard my wife's show, The D-list.
It seems that the show's starring object, loser professionale, Kathy Griffin was dating up by going out with my man, Steve Wozniak. Now, if you are not a geek, you may have never heard of the guy. If you are a poser geek, you may have at one time googled him after you saw Pirates of Silicone Valley. You would have learned that he is the inventor of home computing and the father of the Apple I, II, and grand daddy of the Macintosh.

Steve is one of those dudes that true geeks admire and want to be. If he made lots of money; cool. That meant that people found use of what he did with his hands. I'm sure farmers, artists, and inventors get that feeling that it's all about their work and people's love of that work that is the true reward and the money part was just the gravy. The thing about Steve was what he did with that money like put it into educational programs where technology found its way into schools to be a tool for learning. The concept behind why we still see Macs to this day in schools must have come from him before he decided to leave Apple after his plane accident in '81.

According to Griffin (because by now I'm paying attention to her little, shitty, 'reality' show), Woz still likes to eat at cheap dining chains like Bob's Big Boy or Denny's. Still not man who spends his money just because he has it, he supposedly emailed Griffin about his 'discovery' of the Men's Warehouse; you know, the buy one suit, get one free place? Well according to her act, he had no idea a place like this existed but he was going to 'splurge' and buy a suit so he do some red carpet bullshit with her.
Anyway, I'm shaking my head at the thought of them together. I knew he was married to some jock girl the last I read about him, I decided to hit wikipedia just to catch up on his life after the early 90s. Apparently I did not know about the divorce or last marriage after his first. Not that I really cared, but I just thought it was strange that he was dating Kathy Griffin when in my mind he seemed like the monogamous type.

So, you're asking, why do you hate Kathy so much? Well it's not so much Kathy as it is the subspecies of humans she belongs to. She is an ass-kissing social climber; one who is never satisfied with being who she is (supposedly a funny comedian), but is always looking to be a part of the in-crowd. Now you may say I'm wrong and will start pointing to her stupid stand-up which is more celebrity gossip and "tell-all" bullshit than jokes where she supposedly throws shade on the rich and famous. But Kathy reminds me of those little toadies back in high school who were tolerated just enough by the hierarchy of the student body to be allowed hang out with.
You know, these were the year book kids. Anyway, she comes off like she hates celebs, but she so wants to be them and so much so, that her entire life resembles that of those birds you see perched on a Rhinoceros's ass, pecking, living, and shitting on something that is bigger than she but only doing so because that is how she survives. She's sad, really.

Anyway, the joke was on me, as it turns out they aren't dating anymore, in fact, The "Woz" seems to be engaged to someone else, according to Griffin. Perhaps someone a little less celebrity-addicted and trite? Either way, he will be going back to living his life of anonymity but contributing to the human race in his way as he always has, and little Kathy can continue on with her social climbing and mock celebrity. Never date below your station, kids.

I Have to Right to be Bitter, I'm the Dark Lord of the Sith, Baby!

1. I was born a slave

2. Although I was bought out of slavery by Qui-Gon, it was only for the good of the Jedi, so my mother was left in bondage. Later she died at the hands of a bunch of bandaged-faced zombies.

3.Qui-Gon dies, leaving me under the tutalage of Ben Kenobi, who at first, never trusted me and wanted to leave me in slavery.

4. Did I mention that I was a slave?

5. The rest of the Jedi never trusted me.

6.I had to hide my love and marriage from the world.

7. I was used by the Jedi to expose Palpatine by allowing me on the council but without status of Master.

8. Palpatine uses me to eliminate all the Jedi with the promise that I can give my loved ones immortality. Stupid lie, I know..

9. Padmé quickly flips on me as I slowly explained to her my turning to the dark side. But did she try to listen to me? Hell no! So I choked her.

10. Obi-Wan cut off my legs and my pee pee burned off. I'm kept alive by machines. The only people who have ever cared about me was Qui-Gon, Mom, Palpatine, and Luke.

So suck on that Yoda.

OMG! I'm Brenda!

Sue me for doing one of the things i hate that most bloggers do, but.....




YOU ARE BRENDA!!!!!
YOU ARE WILD, CRAZY, CONFIDENT, IMPULSIVE, AND WILL
DO JUST ABOUT ANYTHING TO GO AGAINST THE GRAIN,
VERY SEXUAL


Which Character on SIX FEET UNDER Are You?(with pics)
brought to you by Quizilla

hammer. smashed. face

Feeling ever home sick, and also in a trolling and flame mood, I decided to post to New York Craig’s list Rant and Rave responding to a particular thread regarding people who moved to NYC, and have come to hate it.
Apparently those who are all patriotic and loyal this to petri dish of a city responded with the usual 'fuck youse' and so on. But the one response that fucked with me the most is the "Well you can't hack it here, so leave with your tail between your legs." I wrote back. That if by "hacking it" here means paying rents 5 times more than what they are worth for the privilege of living in New York, or walking past Starbucks every other block, or paying $9.00 for a sucky (and I DO mean) a sucky gourmet burrito, then I'd rather "hack it" in a forest like Grizzly fucking Adams.

The fucking arrogance of these people never cease to amaze me. They want to thumb their noses down at the dumb asses who live in Jersey or god forbid, the south where you can rent a three bedroom house for under $1,000, but hey, it's all chicken breast here in the Big Apple!

Yeah, I know. Why am I still here? Short answer, I have shit to do. School and everything else, but we'll see. I'd still want to live upstate.

In Treatment

Well, I'm looking for a therapist and already I got two call-backs that said they were full. This is a weird process. But I feel good doing it because the alternative may destroy the important things in my life. My anger has become more out of control lately; blowing up at criticism s that aren't there, I'm now known as "The asshole that no one wants to work with at The Plantation (well, that part is ok. I hate my coworkers and colleagues with a passion, but it's no longer pleasurable to hate them. Now I've just become less creative in my assholery towards them). I need to sort this shit out and Evan Williams and 420 ain't cutting it anymore.
Oh well, they say the biggest step is the first step to wellness. Wish me luck.

Welcome!

This is my new personal blog. The original one was called Black T-Shirt and was housed here, on blogspot. Later, in 2004, I decided to put Black T-Shirt on my own web host under the url, brotherkomrade.net. Mainly I wanted to see if I could configure and run a blog from a regular web host. I used Nucleus which is a fine CMS-blogging software. The thing is, I never felt at home with it. I don't know if it's the interface or but I didnt evven like logging into to it to write.
Then I came back to to blogger and created my political blog, The brobotinternationale.
Now I'll be moving everything from brotherkomrade.net to This Carbon Life, my new home for "personal" journaling.
So welcome. I hope you like it.

Arrows of Mistress Winter

"Who's serving tonight?" I asked a little white man in a white dinner. Actually the dinner jacket; there was nothing white about it. It was dingy, yellowing; especially around the collar and wrists. His hair was yellowing too from the cigarettes. But I caught a whiff of Mores Regular and new the answer to my question regarding who was serving tonight. But to help me out, the little Dinner Jacket man held his hand out to Saundra Little, my mother who was standing under a blue column of spot light. She looked good with her Mores hanging out of the side of her mouth wearing a (cleaner) silver dinner jacket with a black shirt underneath open at the neck. Her hair was up in a small, tight bun and she was shaking away with her silver cocktail shaker and wearking a (fucking) diamond studded eyepatch over her left eye.
There was one of those Martini glasses in front of me with ice. I said, "You're not gonna serve me mixed drinks are you? I hate mixed drinks and cocktails and shit".
She sucked her teeth, and gave me her annoyed look that I inherited when someone said something incredibly stupid. "What do you think Whiskey and Coke is? I know you drink that." She took a step closer to the bar. I asked if that was a coke and jack and she sucked her teeth again. "Uhh, no. In a cocktail shaker?"
It was a mixed drinka nd it was green. Bathroom cleaner green. I shook my head slowly and picked up the glass. It looked like some shit one of those sad women on Sex and the City would drink (I IMAGINE!).
"spoiled boy.." she said under her breath as she passed me to deal with another customer. I knew what she was talking about. It was obvious why I was at a bar being served by my dead mother and here I was bitching about a drink....

When my mother would be deep in her drunks, she would be prophetical about her early demise. The problem was that she was right; died at 56 of heart failure. I don't have the same visions for myself, but I had felt that death's arrow was pointed at me toward the end of the year, and mainly it was my fault. You see, I contracted a bad case of walking pneumonia. My doctor almost said he was going to send me to the hospital. I said if it wasn't an order, I would be leaving his office and I took his prescription and went on my merry, coughing way. I can be a stupid ass sometimes. Ok, most times.
I Got REALLY retarded drunk at this place called "Texas B.B.Q" (yes, where the ghetto, the athletic elite, and white mamas with biracial chilluns' come to dine).I passed out on the sidewalk outside because (hold your breath) I forgot that I took my blood pressure meds not but one hour before my two VERY large margaritas. Topping the night off in emergency room with an older sister screaming at me about black survival and black male-health (I had it coming). THEN last week I got hit with a stomach flu and had a another dream I was walking naked in the winter snow upstate in fear of catching a whooping from my mama.

I thought about how spoiled I am. Spoiled because of the things I have been given and the near disasters in my life that have yet to have taken me down when others close to me may not be doing well at all.

Last night I got an email from Teresa Kirkpatrick. She is an old friend that I would have known ten years had she have lived to tomorrow, but that is not the case. The email sent to me was from her address, but I knew it was from someone in her immediate family as soon as I saw Teresa's name in the subject line.
Teresa and I met working at the Rice Branch of Kinko's. E had long been gone from that shop and I had just been transfered to Computer Services. Teresa was in production as a trainee. I guess we just hit it off as co-workers because we had the same cynical outlook on people and life, yet Teresa was more laid back about it than I was and laughed at how bad the asshole customers could get. She didn't take life seriously nor did she take work seriously either. As a matter of fact, Teresa had a long succession of jobs. Most people look down on that; especially if you are close to 40 as she was then and especially if you were a woman with no man or kids. But I admired her even more for that. She was free and lived and acted accordingly. I would joke and that she was a walking Cherly Crow song and she would laugh because Crow was her favorite artist. Like most Kinko's newbies, Teresa didn't stay at the Rice branch for too long. She wanted to move to some other branch closer to Pasadena; so she got her transfer. I was promoted to CS Manager at the U of H store, so we said our good-byes, but exchanged numbers and emails.

Over the years, we talked here and there, wrote emails, ran the Kinko's telephone bill up by just talking from our respective branch desks. I remember when her mother died, she needed someone to help move some small tables and stuff from her mom's to Teresa's place so I helped her. It dawned on me then that she really wasn't a lonely spinster. She was happy, just not happy enough. She wanted roots, but I would suspect without kids or a husband. I learned that she loved being an aunt to her sibling's kids and seemed happy with that. She was complex, like all of us, but there was always this sadness lingering behind her eyes. I don't know what it was or even if it was sadness for that matter, I just remember always being there even when she smiled.

When I moved to NY in '00, we spoke even less, but when we did, I learned that she was going to Houston Community College to learn Web Design. Then in '03, she got a "government job" that she couldn't talk about. She would leave the country for a year for some location in the Mideast. I didn't believe her at first, it was the kind of joke she would tell, but sure enough, I wouldn't hear from her in a year or so, then she would call and say she was in the U.S. for a couple of months, but was heading to Houston to visit her family. Strange. Then earlier in the fall I get an email with "No Joke" in the subject heading. In the email, she was saying that she's been ill and a doctor stateside has diagnosed her with ovarian cancer. The last time I spoke to her was maybe October. She in her hospital bed but wanted to go home. She almost begged me to talk about my life, but I had nothing to say because I knew she didn't want to talk about her pain or her condition. Then after a brief silence, she said, "Ok, at least bitch about New York, complain as you always do about your life." I lied and said that everything was cool, I was 'over' being negative and I proceeded to talk about Houston and what the fucking weather was like. But I knew she saw through my bullshit and said, "I'm getting tired, Bruce. Can I call you back later?" I said yes, and she said "Bye". But it was in the exact same tone that my mother used to call me a spoiled boy in my dream.

Goodbye