Three Shots... Use Them Wisely...

with that stupid grin
i've never been more taunted
by a computer

Let's go huntin' fer sum duck!

Remind Me What I'm Giving Thanx For...

gobble gobble bird
dry and stuffed with liquid bread
waste of table space

So I won't even touch on the fact that Thanksgiving is pretty much the White Man's continual reminder that they tricked the Indians into giving them their land, women and food. I mean it's tradition, so it must be good; rooted in American values. But then again, everything is rooted in American values if it is related to taking things that were never ours to begin with or imprisoning people who look different or have different beliefs than us. (examples, Puerto Rico & Hawaii and Japanese interment camps & Guantanamo Bay respectively)

Hooray! Pass the Turkey...

Seriously now -- I have hated Thanksgiving for as long as I can remember. The turkey has always been dry, stuffing is just gross and the whole gathering of the family to celebrate something that really has nothing to do with us is contrived. Last November my grandmother (insert best friend here) died. She would continue the Thanksgiving tradition every year sweating in the kitchen making the turkey stuffing and the turnips. If turkey wasn't gross enough the turnips definitely would do it for you.

From the time she died, all holiday spirit died with her. We had a black Thanksgiving that year and Christmas was just another day. This year the tradition continues -- another day, another nasty ass bird. Keep in mind, while Nana is no longer with us, the parentals are busy trying to make it like it was. The Father Unit came to me, placing the stuffing all up in my grill, and said, "Look, doesn't it smell like Nana's stuffing? I'm the only one on the planet who can make it like this." To which I replied, "Sure." I don't want to kill the holiday spirit, but not for nothing, for me it died a long time ago.

This year I invited The King of Spain to join my family & I for Thanksgiving dinner. We all know he's a Dominican and they're really not up on American holidays eighties music (other than Madonna) or the concept of "crumbs" but that's ok, there's always time to learn new tricks. Everything was going to be perfect -- I work until 5, pick him up at PBI and then we'd both return home to find my family waiting with a late Thanksgiving dinner. Of course the cock sucking whores that live in the state of Florida, ie: The Father Unit's Family, invited themselves to the house for dinner.

It started out when they called and invited us to partake in Thanksgiving dinner with them, however Monkey (The Mother Unit) declined as we were having guests here, and with empty words she said they were more than welcome to come here and do dinner with us. As expected they declined... As that was thought to be the end of it, we continued with the original game plan -- that is until they called up early last week and asked if they were still invited. Monkey, not about to be a Jew, said of course and with that ruined whatever sliver of a holiday we might have otherwise enjoyed.

Thanksgiving Events: Revised
08:00 Chulo Wakes Up
09:00 Chulo Arrives at Work
12:00 The Father Unit's Family Arrives
14:00 They Eat Dinner, While Chulo Works and The King of Spain is on a Plane
16:00 Fed, the Family Watch the Football Game (HOLD UP... 86 the Football Game, the TV is Broken)
16:30 Lacking Football, The Father Unit's Family Leaves, Yes -- They Chewed and Screwed
17:30 Chulo Gets The King of Spain at the Airport
18:00 Chulo & The King of Spain Arrive Home to Find Cold Left Overs
18:05 They Eat Their Microwaved Shit of a Meal
18:10 They Vomit
19:00 Unfulfilled, Chulo & The King of Spain go to Mickey D's

Does anyone else see a problem with that? Indeed, once again Chulo's being punished for some ungodly thing he's done in the past. Why is it that every time I try to do something nice, some jackass relative has to come into the picture and ruin my game? One day, and I pray it be soon, I will be lifted from this place and returned to the glory I once had -- far from sycophantic relatives who come just to eat my nasty ass turkey and far from five cent whores who troll the internet looking for ass while passing it off as looking for friends. Until that time comes, I have my wit and my Apple to guide me along the path of the righteous.

It's meeeee... I was the turkey all along... MEEEEE!!

Growing Panes...

life keeps on going
strangely you remain the same
surrounded by change

I realised the other day that the world is changing. The funny thing tho, thru the window of my mind, I can see the movement of time. I see my peers in business clothes doing the work thing. I see people come into the block, some a few years younger and others older than I, with wifey [or baby's mama(s)] and the two kids by their side. They drive their BMW or Range Rover to and from their apartment to the gym, the grocery store and every other place it is they go to in the course of the day except for work -- it would seem that they have no need for such trivial things. And I'm left wondering, when will my life also have meaning?

From the day your shot out of the womb your parents had dreams and aspirations for your future. Typically, for me at least, it was graduate high school while maintaining good enuf grades to get into the college I wanted to go to, get thru college in four years while developing skills to be independent and an intuitive thinker and then continue onward into the workforce using the degree I paid eighty grand for. I have accomplished most of the above -- a wrench was thrown into the gears after graduation that in effect put my life as I knew it on pause.

As I sit in Palm Beach County, writing these things for you to read, I'm in effect, wasting two years of my life. From my arrival to my eventual departure, I don't foresee returning to this place any time soon. Along the way, I've been lied to by family (the ruse that got me to agree to move here in the first place), I've broken my leg in Miami, as my friends were here for Spring Break and it was only an hour drive, I have maintained my high school job while having gone thru college to receive a degree, and I've been worked to death at said job for a substandard wage given my education and experience at the Block.

I know I've painted a grim picture of my life, however, given what I came from to what I have become, it has become ever more dark and seemingly paradoxical, even to me. In my travels to and from work and trolling the internet for signs of life, I have met people. The majority of life in the state of Florida is in its own state of confusion. I'm not sure who told these people that they were the greatest things to ever grace the United States, however they're sadly mistaken and the person who planted this seed in their minds should be taken out back and shot execution style in the head. Don't get me wrong... as of today 21 November, I have actually met, in real life, flesh and blood people... that I do not work with, who have turned out to be really cool peeps. Bear in mind, over a year being here, I can still count that number of good people on one hand. I won't name names, but they know who they are... granted I might not call like I should, but that's not because I don't like them, I don't call anyone.

But back to the main point, primarily the windows of my life clouded with uncertainty and despair. Being in this antiquated and hurricane damaged Republican stronghold, I've been almost rocking on the edge of a dark precipice. Has my life become a habit or pattern of behavior that has become dull and unproductive, one that is hard to change? If so, then I am in a rut. Or perhaps this all could be one tricky game that Eleggua has set before me to see how I fare given obvious hardships and complex puzzles to solve. Either way, I am aware of the consequences that will befall me should I fail in a) breaking free from the rut or b) not completing Eleggua's game to a satisfactory degree.

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip; that started from this tropic port, aboard this tiny ship...

AIDS Education: A Poorly Funded Program Flawed from the Get

you had one with you
but you chose not to use it
illusions of trust

The more I watch this homo world that is evolving before my innocent eyes, the more I fear the next breath I take. With the advent of the internet, the ease for men who have sex with men in locating their next hookup has become a paradox more perplexing than the chickenhead who crossed the road. With HIV/AIDS running rampant and unchecked in the community, one is only left to wonder, why is it that things continue the way they do given all the information we know?

Having spent a large amount of time trolling that horrible website while my leg was broken I've come to realise many things. Here's a brief list:

• HIV/AIDS is here to stay, and regardless of how informed we become, it will take over the population before 2015
  
  
• The homos on the internet have seen this warning and have ignored it because it could never happen to them -- they're too smart for that
  
  
• By the time a vaccine/cure for HIV/AIDS comes to our civilization it isn't going to work at all because there will be super-strains of the virus everywhere due to multiple infections

Call me Chulo-damus -- granted my cryptic and apocalyptic predictions are not written in rhyming quatrains, but you get the point. I don't understand how it is that AIDS education has failed to touch on any of this... actually, I understand very well. If this was a straight issue, people would be shouting from soap boxes around the world, but because this is a homo thing, no one really cares -- except for the blacks. We all know those DL brothas who get down with other DL brothas, then come home to their wives and pass along their DL STDs that no one knew about. That's a large reason why many of the HIV/AIDS cases are black women. (For Black HIV/AIDS Resources, Click Here)

We need to be smarter people. I know everyone likes to have a good time and get their nut off, but there is no reason for ignorance -- especially blatant ignorance that leaves you sick and dying. This disease does not care if you're DL, if it's your first time, if you got a wife or a baby's mama -- everyone is at risk, and by being stupid and not protecting yourself, when you finally find that one person who means the world to you, there's going to be a lot to explain and a lot more that you're going to have to get thru before you can even think about getting as close as you would otherwise have been able to.

And as a wise condom slogan once said... "Don't be a loner, cover your boner."

Sam... The Dog...

he died around friends
leaving behind all his fans
strangely disfigured



Beauty is in the eye of the beholder...

Nana

people touch our lives
once they're gone, we remember
growing thru their words

We're going on a year since I moved into this infernal house. On day two we woke up to find my grandmother dead in her newly furnished room. That day I had to work, but I found it odd that she wasn't up yet, as she always would wake up before everyone else and do strange things around the house -- feeding the dog muffins for example. Not thinking anything of it I went to work like every other day. In hindsight, we should have called the ambulance the night before as she was having heart problems, but she wouldn't have it.

Later that afternoon I found my father at my store. He had a strangeness around him and I could feel something wasn't right. I asked, "Where's Mom?". He replied, "In the truck." I asked, "Where's Mom's Mom?" He replied, "Not in the truck..." With that, my heart sank, for I knew that what I had felt that morning was just a small amount of the emptiness that I would feel in my house, in my heart and in my mind every day after she left us.

She's buried in Rhode Island -- 1,500 miles away from us. On the day of her funeral strangers came up to me and told me that I lost my best friend. I knew it was true, but to have random people tell me this had me in tears. My eyes shaded behind dark Diesel sunglasses, my body wrapped in a black suit, tears rolling down my face.

After the service we went to the cemetary where our family priest said some words that in reality were insignificant because nothing could replace her. Roses covered her casket and holy water rolled off like the tears down my face.

I pushed everyone except for my mother out of my life because no one could understand the emptiness and sadness that I was going thru except for her. Thru all our ups and downs, battles and good times, it was the three of us that were always there for each other.

Now we're both alone in Florida. She has her husband and I have my sister, pero in reality we only have each other and everything else is an incidental. My mother blames herself for this; I do as well at times.

I won't go and say that everyone has a time that God takes them because that's a crock of shit. Everyone does have a time to go, but that means that it's even more important for us to appreciate and fully enjoy the small things in life, for you're never truly sure how much time is left to say "I love you" or "Thanks". Hopefully they knew that they were your reason for living and without them your world ment shit.

Atleast that's my experiance with losing one of the few people who have ever been close to me...

Nigga Hush...

they're drawn on paper
yet so wise beyond their years
artistic genius

This evening Andrelaso reminded me that a new cartoon was being shown on Adult Swim. Yes, today, Sunday November 6, 2005, Aaron McGruder's The Boondocks was shown to the world. It was the best thing I've seen on television in some time. In addition to witty political satire, it was chuck full of racial remarks that probably shouldn't be on television. For those of you who are not aware, this grew out of a daily comic strip featured in over 350 newspapers nation-wide. Some keep it in the editorial pages where as others have pulled it from the newspaper all together due to its controversial views on issues such as the war. If you live in a conservative area, more likely than not, you will not find it.

That's the thing about Republicans -- they're good for running their mouthes, however when it comes to a differing opinion it's anti-american and Democratic lies. Boondocks has come at a point in time where we need free speech and fresh ideas. A graduate from the University of Maryland, McGruder brings current issues together with a killer urban style unlike anyone else. It really is too bad that he doesn't have a larger readership because high school/college aged individuals could take a lot from the ideas that he presents and spin it into something they can arm themselves with to educate others.

What am I talking about -- why would we want to educate people who don't vote? It's not like they're going to make a difference if they decide to go to the polls. Right. If we could motivate these people to vote, a small village in Texas wouldn't be missing their idiot at the present time. This blog is obviously coming too late because it's too late to register to vote, however if you are registered, I'm sure that someone is going to be up for office on Election Day, perhaps an incumbent who grossly doesn't deserve the office chair s/he is sitting on.

Regardless, it's up to us all to make a difference. While Aaron is using his talent to write and illustrate The Boondocks, you too can make a difference by casting a vote. If we could have gotten enough people who didn't vote to do their Constitutional duty, then we wouldn't be in the mess that we presently reside.

Vote Republicans... Off the Island...

Oral Sex, A New Take...

curiosity
unlike sucking another
the taste of your own

You see it in Latino Fan Club movies and anything Ricky Martinez is featured in -- the porn star sucking their own dick. Of course they're packing like twelve inches, so that's not as amazing as it sounds, seeing that when they bend over to tie their shoes, they poke their eye out. What is amazing is that people packing an average of five and a half to six inch dicks are also making this feat a reality. And as such, coupled with being more horny than a rhino, I always seem to get this unnatural desire to just do the damn thing.

Back in the days when I was young (I'm not a kid anymore, but some days I sit and wish I was a kid again) the reality of my own dick in my mouth was something that was possible, while infrequent. The desire was not one driven my homo impulses, but rather driven by pop culture. Clerks was the catalyst for me. If you've seen the movie, you know the scene I'm referring to; if not, it went something like this...

Randal: That's nothing compared to how my cousin Walter died.
Dante: How'd he die?
R: Broke his neck.
D: That's embarrassing?
R: He broke his neck trying to suck his own dick.
D: Shut the hell up.
R: Bible truth.
D: Stop it.
R: I swear.
D: Oh, my god.
R: Come on. Haven't you ever tried to suck your own dick?
D: No!
R: Yeah sure. You're so repressed.
D: Because I never tried to suck my own dick?
R: No, because you won't admit to it. As if a guy's a fucking pervert because he tries to go down on himself. You're as curious as the rest of us, pal. You've tried it.
D: Who found him?
R: My cousin? My aunt found him. On his bed, doubled over himself with his legs on top. Dick in his mouth. My aunt freaked out. It was a mess.
D: His dick was in his mouth?
R: Balls resting on his lips.
D: He made it, hunhh?
R: Yeah, but at what a price.
D: I could never reach.

It's not even the need for a blow job that drives me, it's more of the whole taboo surrounding the act. Think about it, you're sucking your own dick. How amazing is that? What's next... fucking yourself?

According to websites, and they're in abundance, regardless to the size of the dick, (obviously larger ones are gonna make it before smaller ones) the key is stretching and practice. I can stretch and I can practice... but I don't have the patience. It seems that every time I try, I always end up getting mad bellaco and then just busting... keep in mind, the dick is like an inch and a half away. And it's not like the dick is small, sources close to Chulo say it's a force all its own.

Who knows, perhaps tomorrow the force will be with me...

Decisions, Decisions...

mobile subscriber
knowing is half the battle
keep up with the times



Satan, together with Nextel... Yes you can!

The New Bradshaw...

shining and special
it's so bright, so beautiful
hanging 'round my neck



"It's good to know that the ones you love will always be in your heart. And if your very lucky, only a plane ride away." - Carrie, Sex and the City

The Wandering Detectives...

to protect and serve
trolling the streets for cute boys
while undercover

You've all heard about that random homo that was kidnapped, killed and found later with bones exposed; flesh rotting in the Alabama sun. He was minding his own business, walking down the street heading home after going to the store or wherever it is in Alabama that homos walk to and walk back in the middle of a well lit street, having a false sense of security.

He was snatched off the side of the road by two strange men in a dark car, never to be seen again, except for his picture on hundreds of flyers taped thruout the town, offering a reward for any information that might lead to his whereabouts. Unfortunately for him, he's dead. Myself however, I am very much alive, and have taken note of his untimely demise when walking outside to and from places in an effort to pay better attention to my surroundings. (Of course that statement doesn't really apply when I'm listening to my iPod and have no concept of the world outside my head, but that's another story.

After Andrelaso, Principio and myself met up with L.L. we headed back to Brooklyn to feast on Martinez, the luxury cuchifrito that delivers. We ordered the food and then realised that we had no coke. So with the food on its way, we headed out into Sunset Park to find a box of Coke cans. At first we went to the grocery store on the corner, a glorified bodega, but with check out lines and less produce. We knew they wouldn't have what we were looking for, but it was close, so we tried anyway.

As expected, they did not have regular Coke cans, however they did have Pepsi and Diet Coke, but those both taste like shit, so we continued down the block to the real bodega, the one run by the Arabs with the bangin produce section. They did not have cans at all. They had one liter bottles of Coke with Lime. Still not what we were looking for, so we left. The almost-grocery had two liter bottles of Coke for cheap, we should have bought them, but I was hell-bent on cans. They stay longer, bottles go flat, who wants that?

As we leave the bodega and walk down the street, a car with two white men slowly roll up on us. Thinking homo blood bath, I immediately switch into self-preservation mode. With the adrenaline flowing and the pupils open wide to capture all the light we notice that they're trying to talk to me. I don't talk to strangers so my conversation was minimal and I slunk back away from the road for I was freaked out. In an attempt to ignore them, hoping they'd go away, we continued on when I spotted a small market across the street.

We make it to the crosswalk and now they got the deer-stare goin on. Checking me out hardcore, I try to just play it off and continue on my mission. Then they get out of the car. Meanwhile, the other two have identified our strange men as NYPD Detectives. That's phenomenal. I just wanted a drink, and now I have this to deal with. The best part, they think I'm cracked out -- high on some kind of whatever.

Now with the body in self-preservation mode, our boys in blue are sure that I must be on something for my eyes to have such a dramatic reaction. I try to tell them that I am not on anything, but unfortunately they don't believe me, and began to ask the other two if I was on something. They say no, but the dramatics continue.

It was then that my father's voice came into the back of my head... "If you ever have any problem with the police, always remember that I was a policeman and we stick together. Use this card [Fraternal Order of Police Membership] in the event that you need backup." So I did. You know, I say, there's really no way I'd be cracked out like that. My father was a police officer in Rhode Island and I wasn't raised like that. ::Produce Card:: As one is looking, the other asks me, "If there's nothing wrong then what's the problem."

To which I reply...

We're homos. You know -- we like the dick. And with the two of you creeping up on us in your dark car, I freaked out because that's when homos go missing.

Andrelaso and Principio take a step back, knowing they heard what I said, but unsure if it was all in their head. The two detectives step back all kinds of confused like now what do we do and I just stand there with a look of whatever-the-fuck on my face, clearly freaked out and disgusted. They told me that what I had revealed to them was "too much information" and that my friends need to find me a "happy stick" because clearly I like it and was in need. If they only knew what happened Saturday night. Bidding us a good evening, they return to their car and leave us in the middle of 4th Ave.

Andrelaso and Principio still speechless continue with me to the market, we purchase a two liter bottle of Coke and get the fuck home. I didn't hear the end of it all night, but that's ok, because even tho I got the shit scared out of me, we were fine and the homo bashers turned out to be police. While I was profiled by the undercovers walking with a negro and a thugged out gringo, at least I wasn't the victim of a hate crime.

We have an All-Points Bulletin for three minority homos going from bodega to bodega, take caution, they're suspected to be cracked out and extremely dangerous...

Pink Cookies in a Plastic Bag...

chilling in the street
his name is L, he's from QNZ
my peeps by his side



One day I'll be in the picture instead of taking the damn thing... I did speak to him tho...