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The funnel cloud passed over and I could feel the air pressure change. I heard the house creaking, The sound was deafening. You can’t see anything. You can’t hear shit aside from wood splintering and breaking.
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The first shake of the house and it started to split and for a brief moment I saw a light that went away almost immediately. The roof bucked and heaved and then it was gone. When the roof ripped off, that’s when I knew things weren’t going to be okay.
Inside of the house I was being thrown around like a rag doll. I was tossed from the house onto the pavement outside. On the pavement I was hit from all sides by debris and that’s when blacked out. I survived and my neighbor’s homes were untouched.
I have always wondered… why me?
Was it THEM?

In Georgia, a 3,000 lb Chevy Impala slipped off a jack and onto a young man. Without any assistance, his mother, Angela Cavallo, picked up the car and held it for five minutes until neighbors could pull her son to safety.

 As the helicopter came in for a soft landing, it suddenly careened out of control and slammed to the ground, this was all caught on film. One of the pilots was trapped under the helicopter in the shallow water. Warren “Tiny” Everal ran over and lifted the helicopter off the pilot. The chopper was a Hughes 500D, which weighs 1550 lb when empty, the pilot recovered.

The 4,000 lb BMW slipped off the jack and landed on the mechanics chest, crushing him. With no time to waste the mechanic’s 22-year-old daughter lifted the car and moved it off her father, the performed CPR to keep him breathing.

Science says that under acute stress, the body’s sympathetic nervous system prepares the body for sustained, vigorous action. The adrenal gland dumps cortisol and adrenaline into the blood stream. Blood pressure surges and the heart races, delivering oxygen and energy to the muscles. It’s the biological equivalent of opening the throttle of an engine.

Does this science explanation explain how someone who isn’t Captain America can lift a helicopter? Does science explain how these people had the strength to lift a car off of someone? Maybe science has the answer, maybe just maybe there is another one… THEM.

Late on a dark New Orleans, a jogging Peter Gold saw a hoodie wearing man dragging a woman down the street. Gold intervened as the man tried to get the woman into a SUV near the intersection of Magazine and St. Mary streets.  The man let go of the woman, held his gun to Gold, looked him in the face and said ‘I’m going to kill you‘, then he shot Gold point blank in the stomach.

 

Gold lay on the sidewalk and pleaded for his life. The hoodied man put the gun to Gold’s head, pulled back the slide on the black semi-automatic gun and pulled the trigger. “I saw the man squeezing the trigger repeatedly. He said the gun was jamming.” Gold recalled. When the gun didn’t fire the man took the woman’s purse and drove away.

Gold recovered from his injuries in what everyone has called an “incredible miracle.” Gold graduated from Tulane medical school and continues with a residency in orthopedic surgery at a hospital in New York City.  “I’m just very lucky and fortunate to be able to come out of that alive,” Gold said. “I think about that day every single day of my life.”

Every single day Gold thinks about how he almost died, “I wonder what happened in somebody’s life that they were able to create such violence with such ease without even thinking about it.” Gold has a started a nonprofit foundation called MyStrongCity to provide education, mentoring and to raise money for community-based organizations that empower undeserved youth.

The gunman, who was captured later, attacked three other people immediately after leaving Gold.

Gold says that he was “lucky”, but could the gun jamming be attributed to something other than luck? Would he have started this foundation that has helped thousands of people, if this horrible incident had not occurred? Could this happening be something other than fortune smiling on him?

Could this have been  THEM?

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A shower of red sparks shot up from beneath the chassis of the speeding Camaro, and then a bike, folded up from impact. The Camaro had hit a cyclist, and the rider was pinned underneath the car. The Camaro plunged on for ten seconds, dragging along the 18-year-old rider with it.

One of the rider’s legs was pinned between chassis of the car and the frame of his bike, the other was jammed between the bike and the asphalt. After 30 feet, the Camaro slowed and stopped. The rider screamed in agony, pounding on the side of the car with his only free hand.

Without stopping to think, Tom Boyle who was driving by who had stopped, reached under the frame of the car and lifted. The metal bent and groaned and the chassis moved up three inches. “Mister, mister, higher, higher,” the rider screamed.

Boyle braced himself, took a deep breath, and heaved. The front end of the car lifted six more inches. “‘OK, it’s off me,” they boy called out, his voice tight with pain. The driver of the car pulled the rider free while Boyle held the Camaro another 45 seconds.

The biker was badly hurt and he was in a lot of pain, but he was alive and he would live. Some people have called what Boyle did, by lifting the 3,500 lb., car a miracle but maybe it was something more than that…maybe it was THEM.
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Karrine and Lil Wayne

Dear Karrine Steffans,

I ride for you. I really do. Most people have no idea why. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Dr. Ebony Utley, a writer and an associate professor of communication at California State University Long Beach. I write and teach about popular culture and relationships. When Confessions of a Video Vixen dropped, I assigned it to my hip hop class and made all my students purchase it.

Confessions was important because it forced readers to contextualize a vixen’s life. After my students exhausted all the different ways they could call you a ho, I pushed them to move past their judgments and critique gendered double standards about sexuality. I demanded that they imagine how it would change them if they were sexually assaulted, abused, and abandoned as a young girl. I encouraged them to consider the conditions that lead to escapism through sex, drugs, alcohol, and hip hop fantasies. Your book was a perfect opportunity to discuss how and why women make choices in a man’s world. I asked them to respect the chutzpah of a woman not that much older than they were who put it all out there—haters be damned.

When it came time to build my brand, I modeled it after yours. Your early websites were my favorites. I learned form you that pink is a power color. You taught me how to be sexy and smart. I subscribe to the newsletter, buy the books, read the damn blog. In fact, The Vixen Manual is kinda like an Our Bodies, Ourselves for the hip hop generation. Okay, that’s an overstatement, but the pictures were a nice touch.

Your newest book How to Make Love to A Martian was a birthday gift to myself and it continues your prosex, prochoice advocacy. It was a brave decision to share your abortion story. It was also an important decision in a world where women’s rights to choose are being systematically stripped away.

Baby News: Fuck!

Four Weeks

And while Martian is a page-tuner, I’ve got to draw a line. The “love” that you and Lil Wayne have is dangerous. I know you have a niche. I know you have a core audience with expectations. I know you need to make that money, but I can’t ride for you and let other people think that your depiction of love is okay with me. Now, I generally don’t make a habit of telling people they love wrong. I’ve been flying around the country collecting definitions of love from women and children for my research, and I know there are as many definitions as there are people.

For my current project Shades of Infidelity, I’m interviewing women about their experiences with infidelity, and I’ve asked all of them to define love. I’ve learned so much about life and love that this isn’t me passing judgment on your open relationship with Lil Wayne. This is me telling you that a relationship that lacks mutual trust, respect, and honest communication isn’t a healthy love. Here come the spoilers. You define love as “the spirit of caring to the maximum level of shared connection.” Fine. Then you describe love with Wayne:

“Wayne didn’t want to know everything or anything at all, except that I loved him.”

“Wayne was loving me the way he wanted to love me, but I was loving him the way he needed to be loved.”

“He was a jealous and possessive man when it came to the women he loved. He never wanted to hear about other men. Ever. Even though all this women had no choice but to hear about all his other women and accept it.”

All bad, Karrine. Per your own definition, you’re coming up short. Is this what the maximum level of connection looks like? More importantly is this what the maximum level of connection looks like?

I know you’re both working and these representations are part of your jobs. I’m certain they fail to accurately reflect the extent of your relationship, but for all the babygirls that are fans of yours, I need them to know that:

  • When you can’t talk to your partner about that time he hurt your feelings when he flew you across the country, holed you up in a hotel, and never showed up to meet you, it’s not okay
  • Sleeping with his friend just to make him jealous instead of telling him that his getting everybody pregnant and you hearing about it on the street was hurtful, is not ideal.
  • Being in a relationship where there is no reciprocity is not a healthy relationship.

If you were just sexing Wayne for pleasure, that would be fine (although I’m not entirely sure what you see in him), but to call what you describe in Martian as love is not fine. Not. At. All.

Raw

I agree. Sometimes a man and a woman have an understanding that even they don’t understand. I have been there. But this is not that. There’s no understanding. He hurts your feelings. You swallow them. You try to move on. Love relationships require communication to achieve that understanding and that maximum level of connection. I need to communicate to you that you deserve better. You’ve been hurt. A lot. But don’t give up on yourself. Learn from your mistakes. Olivia Pope is wrong (but that’s another post). Love is not supposed to hurt more than it heals you. Love yourself first. Tell yourself the truth about this unhealthy relationship. If you can agree not to glamorize the pain anymore, I’ll agree to keep riding for you. Can you and I share that understanding?

Dr. Ebony Utley
The Woman with Ideas
theutleyexperience.com

Father Time–white man, white hair

Uncle Sam- white man, white hair

Santa Claus- white man, white hair

Moses- white man, white hair

The Forefathers- White men, white hair

Baby New Year- White baby

Jesus- White

Mother Nature- White Woman

Helen of Troy – White Woman

Lady Godiva- White Woman, White Horse

Mother Nature

White knight, white noise, white lies, white diamonds, Snow White, White House, and the ever popular white rose.

White velvet cake, white tea, white rice, white truffles, white potatoes, white onions, and oh yes blonde roast coffee

White peaches, white pumpkins, white wine, and White Christmas.

White christmas

White is the ultimate authority, they set it up that way, so that ain’t nothing good until it’s white.

Look at chocolate, dark, sweet, cream, milk–but no that wasn’t enough they had to go and make

that white too, and white chocolate isn’t even chocolate!



You don’t see chocolate vanilla do you. I knew they wouldn’t stop at milk. They may as well say,

here drink this, white it does a body good.

Racism is everywhere and its not subtle.

Another poem from It Ain’t Just the Size

I was going to marry the mother of my daughter.

I was working a regular nine to five.

I had just got promoted to supervisor and everything.

I came home early one day and there she was, smashing the homie.

The whole time I was fucking dude up, she was saying

“you’re always working!”,

“you’re never home!”

While I was choking old dude I kept thinking “that bitch just didn’t love me!”

I was hurting him, because it was hurting me.

When I was in county jail, she kept visiting me saying “I’m sorry”, this that and the third.

She even told me how much she really needed me.

When I got out I went over to her house and there she was,

pregnant by this other dude and he was kicking her ass and shit.

It almost made the GPS bracket worth wearing.

Join MG Hardie‘s fan page

For more pick up It Ain’t Just the Size for only .99 on Kindle

We have the biggest best military,

We have the smartest people,

we are dropping bombs,

using troops,

laws,

sanctions,

aircraft carriers,

x-rays,

body scanners,

pat-downs,

we have all these cameras and  computers, but no matter what we do, it seems like bad

things are supposed to happen.

We headline all the bad things and bury the good ones.

We focus on war, violence and the mistreatment of others.

We keep spending and spending,

We burn with hate, live in terror and spread fear

–that can’t be right

–that can’t be right

—it just can’t be.

Somebody somewhere throws a rock and it changes the lives of everyone, that’s crazy.

And by bad things, I am not just talking about war and terror.

Whether you believe in evil or light and dark forces or not,

you have to admit that a lot of things that happen seems senseless.

It seems, that every time someone give into vices, it is somehow connected to something larger

something that pushes us towards an avoidable end.

Towards happenings that had to happen and couldn’t have happened any other way.

It’s just too easy to do the wrong thing.

I guess that’s how you know that it’s wrong.

Is this the way thing are supposed to be?

Are we already in hell?

Pick up “It Ain’t Just the Size” on Kindle for only .99 for the answer.

Join MG Hardie’s fan page.

I’ve seen what a real father is.

My parents migrated to his country; they lived in New York’s barrios.

The Nuyorican hardships is what caused them to come west.

My father worked fourteen hour days for next to nothing and

mi madre worked her fingers and feet crooked to give us a better life.

In public, she still walks with her head down.

We are despised, discriminated against, but just as

things are changing for blacks, look at us…

We have quarterback professional football teams, we hosted late night talk shows

and we even have a wise Latina on the highest court.

I was the first in my family to graduate high school,

the first to impress whites, who thought I couldn’t read, with my English.

the first embarrass my parents with my Espanol

and the first to date a black woman.

Join MG Hardie‘s fan page

For more pick up It Ain’t Just the Size on Kindle for .99!

I read all those books in school I had to read because I didn’t have a television until I was ten and when I finally got one it was a black and white piece of shit, but it worked. I got a color one at 14 and it was like Christmas everyday. We lived in a four wall shack. I never had a room of my own sometimes I had to share my room with bichotes, Pimps and Prostitutas so we could make rent that month, which was cool because times were hard, but at least we were making rent, ya know.

All I could do at night was read and when I heard the sirens I would get my pencils and draw all the places my mind wanted to go. In my drawings I think I have traveled further than anyone but most of the time my stomach growled louder than my wildest imaginings.

MG Hardie

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