NOW SHOWING: The Dog, The Cat, and The Rat
An interesting and beautiful thought
Isaiah 11:6 The wolf shall dwell with the lamb: and the leopard shall lie down with the kid: the calf and the lion, and the sheep shall abide together, and a little child shall lead them.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
MoveOn Offers $20,000 in Equipment for Best Obama ad
MoveOn.org has a message for all filmmakers, writers, directors, actors, editors, composers, graphic artists, and animators: Whether you're a total amateur or a total pro, now is the time to use your creativity to help Barack Obama win. We're launching an ad contest: "Obama in 30 Seconds."
Powered by grassroots enthusiasm, Obama has won the most states and the most delegates. But the race isn't over, and we've got to pull out all the stops to help him across the finish line.
We're counting on you to make amazing ads in the next three weeks. Then, MoveOn members and the public will rate the ads, and a panel of top artists, netroots heroes, and filmmaking professionals will pick the winner from among top ads. We'll air the winning ad nationally, and the winner will receive a gift certificate for $20,000 in video equipment.
Whether you're definitely interested or need time to think about it, sign up today (in the upper-right corner of the screen) for updates—so we can keep you in the loop. Then, check out the guidelines and tips on making a great ad, gather up your friends or find collaborators here, and get started!
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Friday, March 7, 2008
Eddie Griffin Commentary
Eddie Griffin could care less about what happens to this big green basketball called Earth. His mind is on heavenly visions. So, don’t get me started, Today, Friday, March 07, 2008.
One Flew Over the Coo-Coo Nest: Part 1
I put all of my eggs into one basket, all of my earthly possessions and money goes to my grandchildren. I have barely less to live on a Disabled Veteran check. Like most black grandparents, I financially support my grandchildren because my son cannot make it himself working for minimum wage, and trying to support two stepchildren. Grandpa has to step up to his calling to see that the “forsaken” grandchildren are not neglected.
So what if my former daughter-in-law is white and my grandchildren mixed, I am still grandpa.
I can understand why the rest of my family does not support my white daughter-in-law. My 81-year old mother still has bad memories of white people. She grew up on a sharecropper plantation in East Texas, during the time of the great lynching. The pain never went away.
I come from an old traditional black family that distances their relatives by birthright. I am the stepson with a stepson, with grandkids by mixed marriage. Call it my own white burden, after my daughter-in-law divorced by son while he was in prison. I have gone through hell defending my former daughter-in-law because I give her hundreds of dollars each month.
The rest of my family will not do it. But I am still grandpa.
One Flew Over the Coo-Coo Nest: Part 1
I put all of my eggs into one basket, all of my earthly possessions and money goes to my grandchildren. I have barely less to live on a Disabled Veteran check. Like most black grandparents, I financially support my grandchildren because my son cannot make it himself working for minimum wage, and trying to support two stepchildren. Grandpa has to step up to his calling to see that the “forsaken” grandchildren are not neglected.
So what if my former daughter-in-law is white and my grandchildren mixed, I am still grandpa.
I can understand why the rest of my family does not support my white daughter-in-law. My 81-year old mother still has bad memories of white people. She grew up on a sharecropper plantation in East Texas, during the time of the great lynching. The pain never went away.
I come from an old traditional black family that distances their relatives by birthright. I am the stepson with a stepson, with grandkids by mixed marriage. Call it my own white burden, after my daughter-in-law divorced by son while he was in prison. I have gone through hell defending my former daughter-in-law because I give her hundreds of dollars each month.
The rest of my family will not do it. But I am still grandpa.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
One Flew Over the Coo-Coo Nest
One flew East
One flew West
One flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest
Is this your future?
One flew West
One flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest
Is this your future?
Monday, March 3, 2008
From John F. Kennedy to Barack Obama
By Eddie Griffin
Monday, March 03, 2008
Not many people remember when the yellow lights first silhouetted the downtown skyscrapers in Fort Worth. It was November 21, 1963 the night John F. Kennedy had come to town. The city wanted to make an impression. We wanted the president to see our little town from the air as he flew into Mecham Field on Air Force One.
I was a 17-year old high school honor student at the time, excited at the prospect of seeing my first U.S. President. It was the age of Camelot, when hope reigned in a neglected and downtrodden black community. Kennedy had brought hope to a nation divided by the color line. But we had no hint of the imminent tragedy that lay ahead.
As the presidential motorcade rolled up to the Texas Hotel, I joined the crowd across the street, on an empty lot along Ninth and Commerce. Most of us colored folk watched from a respectable distance from afar, lest we should infringe upon the white right of passage to get as close to the president.
The yellow lights never went out and continue to burn in downtown Fort Worth even today, some 45 years later. In fact, the city was all aglow when the Obama Express came through Fort Worth like the Santa Fe on the night of February 28, 2008.
On that empty lot at Ninth and Commerce, across the street from the old Texas Hotel, they built the Convention Center where the Obama Rally was staged. And, from where Barack was standing to deliver his speech was the same spot where we congregated on the fateful night in November, 1963. (Am I the only one still alive to remember?)
I have lost count of the many U.S. Presidents in my time, from Harry Truman to George W. Bush. They came and they went, and only a few even scratch my memory, and none like JFK.
I remember wearing an “I Like Ike” campaign button when I was in elementary school around 1952. And, I will never forget the so-called Revolution we fought against Richard M. Nixon. Besides also, I owe a debt of gratitude to Jimmy Carter for releasing me from federal prison, along with other political prisoners. Since then, I took a vow of peace, to be content with whoever occupied the Whitehouse- as long as the channels of communication were opened to the government.
I hate and avoided politics. Like most people in my community, I usually voted for the “lesser of two evils” and hoped for the best. But on Thursday night, when Barack Obama came to town, I had reason for a renewed hope, but not the wistfulness of a 17-year old kid whose hopes were dashed on November 22, 1963 and again on April 4, 1968. But through the gleaming eyes of another 17-year old youth.
Paul David is a highly educated streetwise kid, always in trouble. He has the local reputation of a gang banger, but with the mannerisms of a gentleman. He cannot stay in school, is constantly being expelled, and is now become too physical for his poor single mom to handle.
He was a hopeless case when I became his mentor several years ago. For two years, I provided his home-schooling. Finally, his mother sent him off to California to live with his uncle. And, with the change in environment, he became an honor student.
But now Paul David was back in Fort Worth, once again in and out of trouble as before, attending an alternative school. When I saw him, I gave him a tip: Go to work as a volunteer on the Obama campaign. That he did, and since then there has been a marked change in his behavior. He is so energized and productive that the campaign office calls him “a working machine”.
Here is a kid accustomed to working the streets in the ‘hood. And, he is working it, as if he has a vested interest the future, though he is still too young to vote.
Something else I noticed, his pants don’t sag quite as low. All I can say about that is there is a new role model come to town- a colored man in a suit who is not a preacher. Barack Obama has given street fashion a different look and a different outlook.
These kids are as wild about Obama as Hannah Montana. Only the other day, some 8-year old wide-eyed wonder went on an Obama tear at school, screaming out the candidate’s name up and down the hall. Parents are even more fired up. It’s like March Madness and Texas is about to explode.
Geez! I wish March 4 was over with, so everybody in Texas can calm back down. It’s enough to give a nostalgic old man a stroke.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Not many people remember when the yellow lights first silhouetted the downtown skyscrapers in Fort Worth. It was November 21, 1963 the night John F. Kennedy had come to town. The city wanted to make an impression. We wanted the president to see our little town from the air as he flew into Mecham Field on Air Force One.
I was a 17-year old high school honor student at the time, excited at the prospect of seeing my first U.S. President. It was the age of Camelot, when hope reigned in a neglected and downtrodden black community. Kennedy had brought hope to a nation divided by the color line. But we had no hint of the imminent tragedy that lay ahead.
As the presidential motorcade rolled up to the Texas Hotel, I joined the crowd across the street, on an empty lot along Ninth and Commerce. Most of us colored folk watched from a respectable distance from afar, lest we should infringe upon the white right of passage to get as close to the president.
The yellow lights never went out and continue to burn in downtown Fort Worth even today, some 45 years later. In fact, the city was all aglow when the Obama Express came through Fort Worth like the Santa Fe on the night of February 28, 2008.
On that empty lot at Ninth and Commerce, across the street from the old Texas Hotel, they built the Convention Center where the Obama Rally was staged. And, from where Barack was standing to deliver his speech was the same spot where we congregated on the fateful night in November, 1963. (Am I the only one still alive to remember?)
I have lost count of the many U.S. Presidents in my time, from Harry Truman to George W. Bush. They came and they went, and only a few even scratch my memory, and none like JFK.
I remember wearing an “I Like Ike” campaign button when I was in elementary school around 1952. And, I will never forget the so-called Revolution we fought against Richard M. Nixon. Besides also, I owe a debt of gratitude to Jimmy Carter for releasing me from federal prison, along with other political prisoners. Since then, I took a vow of peace, to be content with whoever occupied the Whitehouse- as long as the channels of communication were opened to the government.
I hate and avoided politics. Like most people in my community, I usually voted for the “lesser of two evils” and hoped for the best. But on Thursday night, when Barack Obama came to town, I had reason for a renewed hope, but not the wistfulness of a 17-year old kid whose hopes were dashed on November 22, 1963 and again on April 4, 1968. But through the gleaming eyes of another 17-year old youth.
Paul David is a highly educated streetwise kid, always in trouble. He has the local reputation of a gang banger, but with the mannerisms of a gentleman. He cannot stay in school, is constantly being expelled, and is now become too physical for his poor single mom to handle.
He was a hopeless case when I became his mentor several years ago. For two years, I provided his home-schooling. Finally, his mother sent him off to California to live with his uncle. And, with the change in environment, he became an honor student.
But now Paul David was back in Fort Worth, once again in and out of trouble as before, attending an alternative school. When I saw him, I gave him a tip: Go to work as a volunteer on the Obama campaign. That he did, and since then there has been a marked change in his behavior. He is so energized and productive that the campaign office calls him “a working machine”.
Here is a kid accustomed to working the streets in the ‘hood. And, he is working it, as if he has a vested interest the future, though he is still too young to vote.
Something else I noticed, his pants don’t sag quite as low. All I can say about that is there is a new role model come to town- a colored man in a suit who is not a preacher. Barack Obama has given street fashion a different look and a different outlook.
These kids are as wild about Obama as Hannah Montana. Only the other day, some 8-year old wide-eyed wonder went on an Obama tear at school, screaming out the candidate’s name up and down the hall. Parents are even more fired up. It’s like March Madness and Texas is about to explode.
Geez! I wish March 4 was over with, so everybody in Texas can calm back down. It’s enough to give a nostalgic old man a stroke.
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