The Revolution Will Not Be Televised… Or Posted on Instagram, Twitter or Facebook

WE interrupt this broadcast to bring you an important message!
The Revolution will NOT be televised
or posted on Instagram
or Facebook
or snap chat
or twitter.

Brother Gil Scott sounded the alarm

Malcolm and Martin

already gone

Huey. Fred. Angela. and countless unnamed Others have led the charge

For dignity.
Community.
Free food.
Brotherhood /sisterhood.

A Voice.

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

The Community of Brothers Behind Bars
serving time
for victimless crimes
must be freed.

Enrollment at

Instituitions of Higher Learning

must replace crack dens,

Measuring grams,

Driving while black,

Killing of our boys and men

Wake up! Wake up!
Social media is not real
it is a Medium
designed by the 10 percent
for control of the 90.

Anesthetizing Our Youth

Dulling Their Brilliant Minds

Gaming Gaming

Does Not Rule.

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

We have already lost too much Time.

Vietnam /PTSD /Homelessness /Brother can you spare a Dime?

Visiting your baby daddy in

Lockup has become a Thang.

Abusing your Queen has

become a Thang.

Shooting Sperm in Multiple

Girls has become a New

Sport.

Fatherless children the result.

Wake Up !Wake Up!
We Need You.
You are the hope
the light
the Original Rib.

To get to the Future
We Have to Look to the Past.

WE Were the Kings /the pyramid builders/ the Mathematicians/the blood transfusion inventor
…the doctors…the lawyers
And Soldiers who helped SAVE our Native American chiefs.

Do you know Your His-tory /Her-Story?

Anthony/Benjamin/Tyrone/ Rashad/Khalif/Isaiah/ Testimony/Derrick/ Jason/Kendrick/Brother Sean

You are the fruit we have borne.
Do not ripen on the Vine.
Countless numbers are Already Gone.

YOU are OUR Future
Our Kings /Warriors /Griots /Musicians.
Rulers of Obama Nation

The REVOLUTION WILL NOT BE TELEVISED THE REVOLUTION WILL NOT BE TELEVISED THE REVOLUTION WILL NOT BE TELEVISED

But Will Be Brought To you
Live and …In LIVING COLOR.

(Updated from Original post)

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Liberal Lin

IMG_0094

WE interrupt this broadcast to bring you an important message!

The Revolution will NOT be televised

or posted on Instagram

or Facebook

or snap chat

or twitter.

Brother Gil Scott sounded the alarm

Malcolm and Martin were already gone

Huey and Fred and countless unnamed Panthers have led the charge

For  dignity

community

free food

brotherhood /sisterhood

A Voice

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

The Community of Brothers Behind Bars

serving time

for victimless crimes

must be freed

Instituitions of Higher Learning

must replace crack dens,

measuring grams,

driving while black,

killing of our boys and men

Wake up! Wake up!

Social media is not real

it is a Medium

designed by the 10 percent

for control of the 90

Anesthetizing Our Youth

Dulling Their Brilliant Minds

Gaming Gaming does Not Rule

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

We have already lost too much Time

Vietnam /PTSD /Homelessness /Brother…

View original post 222 more words

Ten Things To Know About Sex After 60…Him/Her

I love research. Think it is the frustrated lawyer in me. Or a holdover from my youth and curiositykilledthecat days.

Recently, I overheard a conversation in the waiting room of my favorite practitioner that got my juices flowing…the creative ones…that is.

Two men were talking about their sex life. Now that they had reached the AARP years.

One was bemoaning his, while the other was relating stories of wild, torrid evenings filled with sexual scenes that could rival any from 50 Shades.

Who to believe? Mr. Sexisdeadafter60 or Mr. ManImgettingmorethanIeverHave

Reader, Sharpen your pencils.

Here are the facts:

The late great Songstress Nancy Wilson was a master of prose, innuendo and Sex

10 good years, 10 good years. All a woman has got is 10 good years…You better get yo man while the getting is good…you better light that fire while you still got wood.

Nancy knew what she was singing about.

According to the Researchers, many of today’s BBs are enjoying a healthy sex life well into their golden years.

Better healthcare, nutrition and medical advances mean BBs are living longer and therefore having sex longer.

According to the experts, Sex after 60 can lead to better number recognition for Mars and better memory for Venus.

Dang, is that why He had all those skeezers’ phone numbers and NO names in his Galaxy 8?…and She could remember all the times HE cheated with them?

Sex is wasted on the young is more than just a saying.

With Maturity comes Intimacy and all roads Do Not lead to wham bam thank you ma’am.

BBs can find real pleasure in hugging, kissing, and the Rom Com staple…Holding Hands.

Sex after 60 equals freedom from worry about having dem Babies. But remember STDs is a Real thing and still transmittable after 60.

Erectile Dysfunction for Lads and Vaginal Dryness for the Ladies can be an issue for some BBs. A trip to your Physician, Pharmacy or Porn store can help with these conditions.

Your Swinging from the Ceiling, Breaking furniture in Every room, Going for 8 hours with 2 snack breaks in between Days are probably OVER.

But new sources of pleasure are at the tip of your tongue, in the KandiKoatedBedroom catalog, or waiting for some new EverReady batteries.

So BBs, grab some granola and a green smoothie. and show them Milennials whatyomamagaveyou!

Peace and Light!

Thank you for Reading/Sharing/Commenting (see Comment box below).

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100 Things I Love About Montreal

TECHNOPHOBIA:A 21ST century disorder

Look familiar? These are the ravages of a 21st century disorder!

Hi, I’m Lin. I am a Baby Boomer.

I am not afraid of Technology.

In fact, I was the first on my block (back in the 80s) to have a MAC desktop courtesy of my employer.

And despite my title as a teacher of English, I ran the computer lab and became the unofficial fixer of all problems MAC and otherwise.

Through the years, I graduated from MAC and became a PC user (Higher education folks looked down on us MAC users).

I even became a proud member of Blackboard club and successfully taught freshman English to someone. ( Never sure who the students were since they could easily sit in their basement, blowing smoke and pretending to be on my roster).

Recently, I even enrolled in an online course and literally taught myself.

Glad I didn’t have to pay for that travesty, but it is one of the perks of living to be a ‘senior’. I digress.

Beyond the computer, I have owned a number of smart phones- iphone, Galaxy, Tablets, wireless chargers, blue tooth keyboard,and my most recent toy- headphones that look like slave Necklaces.

HUH..no kidding.

My point Reader, is that I am not a novice when it comes to technology.

And as further evidence, you’re reading a Blog which I singlehandedly setup on this site with only 2 hits to the ‘help’ button and one email to the Happiness Engineer.

My technology concerns however, are not my own but rather global ones.

Because, you see, I fear that we have gotten ourselves in somewhat of a pickle with this whole computer driven society.

For example, Everyday we hear about some Fortune 500 company being hacked resulting in thousands maybe millions who are potential id theft victims.

The government’s response to their own hacking travesty was to provide all hackees with free identity theft services for a few years.

Unfortunately, I was among the latter group.

After spending several hours online providing the id theft fixit people with More of my personal info, it occurred to me what happens if they get hacked…what then?

And in fact, after I was awarded with a user name and a strong verified password by said id theft fixit company, I attempted to log onto my account only to find that my user name and/or password were NOTcorrect.

Duh, Denied access to my own protection site..hmm..is that like the pot calling the kettle black?

After several torturous hours of waiting on the phone for a customer service rep from the id fixit company, I was told someone would have to call me back as they were overwhelmed with other government employees seeking the cure.

Two whole days later, Jenny did call me back. But alas, I was cruising down the Road and couldn’t talk to her.

She hurriedly stated that it would be some time before I would get another crack at a rep so I pulled over to a parking lot and engaged in what turned out to be a fruitless foray into…

Notgettingwhatyouaskedfor.

And despite her assurances, that everything was now fixed, when I returned home and attempted to log onto my id protection site, I was STILL denied access.

And now I sit anxiety ridden waiting for the id theft fixit company emails that pop up in my inbox almost monthly.

Often, it’s just to inform me that another sex offender has moved in my neighborhood. Or company x, y, or z is perusing my Experian report trying to decide if I am worthy of yet another unencrypted credit card.

Despite all of this, Reader, like many of you, I unfortunately drank the kool aid years ago, and continue to participate in using plastic for money, paying Peter and Paul online, shopping at the 24 hour Amazonia, and downloading movies/music when the spirit moves me.

I just pray the Hackers will be gentle.

And P.S. if Russia or China or Nigeria is following my blog

I already gave.

Posted on
December 27, 2015

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Blogging Again…

Well Readers, it has been a minute since I last sat in front of this blinking cursor.

Let’s just say like my grandma Rachel used to say, God required me to ‘sit down’ for a minute.

The genesis for this came in the form of a rear end accident that occured almost 2 years ago while I was parked at the local post office.

Yes, I believe in snail mail…even have all my hate mail/bills directed to a PO box that I check periodically.

I had just left said establishment and was sitting in my car perusing the latest edicts from AARP…10 Best Places to Retire (if you have money, of course) when a loud boom followed by a forceful slamming of my venerable ’99 Cherokee assaulted my body.

The perpetrator of this action was a delivery van backing into my unmoving vehicle (I did say I was parked didn’t I) at a rather high speed for said parking lot.

I saw the lady parked next to me running from her car with a look of fear on her face

And because of the times we live in, I assumed it was some type of attack being rained down on said PO…maybe a worker gone postal…outside the building.

Or perhaps, it was some type of random assault in which I was the starring victim.

But imagination aside, it turned out to be an errant driver-in-a-hurry whose actions turned me into an ‘accident victim.’

This accident rendered me useless for months. I spent long hours lying on heating pads, consuming mildly addicting pain meds and muscle relaxants, begging friends to drive me everywhere including endless visits to physical agony (oops) therapy sessions.

And it culminated in a deja vue experience with former paralegal moi standing in a courtroom pleading my case to an understanding, sympathetic, Boomer age judge.

The legal wrangling alone is worth a Blog, but I was warned by my legal mouthpiece to refrain from discussing my case while it was pending.

And it is now just a mere 1 1/2 years later that this ‘case’ has been resolved and I am able to find my Voice again.

Did she just say that she hasn’t written a Blog in almos’ 18 months cause she had a court case?

Gurl, please, we know you had Writer’s Block.

Or she was working in that flower/ herb/or whatever she growing Jardin.

Well, reader, I wish I could say I was “richer and wiser” because of the experience.

What I can say is that my 60 something year old neck/ back will never be the same again and I think I have PTSD about the Post Office.

So much, in fact,that I just signed up online to pay my yearly PO box fee.

Now, if I could figure out how to get them to mail me the contents of my always bulging box.

Hmm, that might be a way to save the venerable snail mail business.

Well, it’s approaching daylight, And No, my insomnia has not disappeared.

I hope that you will allow me to visit your inbox sometimes when my creative juices are flowing.

As always, I look forward to your comments.

What is a writer without a reader?

But guys, be kind, like Badu said…I’m an artist and sensitive about my sh*t!.

SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY

Is what He calls it

When He takes you to bed

After you have taken himTo Court.

Like an elaborate chess game

The 20 year relationship

two moves forward

One move back.

In the background Gladys moans

Neither one of us Wants to be the First to say Goodbye.

And yes Shakespeare

Parting is such Sweet Sorrow

But breakupWe must.

If I am to survive

If I am to breathe

If I am ever to find

My smileAgain

My laughterAgain

My Romantic Again

And Be clothed

In my Right MindAgain.

Vows broken

Cast carelessly aside

Another woman

in My marital bed

Head perched

on my satin pillow.

Secret phone calls.

Thousands of texts.

Midnight Rendezvous.

All belie My Innocence

And the lies

the lies

the lies

All starting to sound like the truth.

You know I will always love you hon. You ain’t got nothing to worry about with ME.We gon’ always be TOGETHER.

Singing Garth love songs

To me at karaoke

Where you thinkingAbout Her

and Not Me?

What makes a man

Turn and walk away

After you’ve given him

Your Everything?

Sacrificed your very soul

Just to be with him.

Gurl, what you see in That man?He ain’t even yo type.Definitely ain’t on yo Level.

Mama said there would be days like this

days like this…

Put yourself in Jesus Hands

Insomnia is now my bedmate.

Sleepless nights that never end.

And no this ain’t no fairytale.

No Stranger on a white Horse

galloping to save me.

Save yourself, gurl

Run, Run

Anywhere

Away from Him

Away from Hurt

Away from Disbelief

Away from Disappointment

Away from Shame

Hmph hmph hmph

26 years ago

Over half My Life

IWish I Could

GoBACK

ToThe Day

BEFORE WE MET

And SKIP My REGRET…

YOU.

Hair today…gone Tomorrow

Reader,

Its Summertime and those of you who have followed my writing for the past 6 years know that I tend to avoid serious topics during the Hot fun in the Summer time months.

I mean, there are 9 months that I can devote to our

bumbling political arena

our apathetic approach to

Humankind and Mother Earth

our failing Education system

our Horrible prison system,

immigration injustices

elder and child abuse

the plight of the homeless

Veterans we never thanked for their Service

The uncurable Cancer (unless you are a celebrity or ten percenter)

Health care nightmares.

Do I need to go on?

Damn, she’s making ME depressed.

Enough, Dear Reader.

Today’s topic, Students (in my best Teacher Voice) is something we all have(or have had)

Our Crowning Glory

Sampson’s downfall

Booming Business for 3rd world countries

HAIR!

Huh?

As a Black woman, I have struggled with my hair for as long as I and my Mother can remember.

Blessed with that long thick good stuff ( maternal granny was part Native American…hey heard They are getting reparations And Casinos…better send that swab off)

I digress.

My early years were spent dreading the daily letsfixyourhairforschoolritual.

It seemed like hours of torture. Transforming my thick, straight but a little kinky (Dad’s folk were pure Africans) tresses into 2 pigtails (braids).

And every two weeks, like clockwork, I was subjected to Hair washing Day. Usually preceded by a dose of castor oil and liquid Vitamin D. Mom kept us cold free.

Gurl, get that shampoo, a towel, the big tooth comb and that jar of grease, and get yourself in the kitchen.

Words cannot convey what followed.

She meticuously lathered, scrubbed, rubbed, squeezed, massaged (sometimes gently scratched my scalp) my disobedient locks into submission.

Once dripping wet and still comb-able, She would grab, tug, pull, part,and grease my unruly hair.

Water ran in large rivulets down my forehead, back of neck…hmm is that what water boarding is like.

Ouch, you hurting me.. was my frequent response.

Gurl, you know how thick your hair is. And you ain’t tenderheaded. So be quiet and go get the Straightening Comb.

Every girl of color reading this, probably felt a quickening in her heart with the mention of the SC.

And I am not talking about the modern, cute electric temperature controlled Hot comb..

This SC was a black handled , iron toothed, white smoke generating, grease residue, smelly, angryredifleft on the stove burner to long, Monster.

Hold that ear. Sit up. Sit still. Stop crying. Ain’t nobody hurting you. You want to have curls on Sunday don’t you.

Bend your head.Gotta get to that kitchen now. (aka the nappy nap)

Silent tears coursed down my dark brown cheeks.

It is Saturday afternoon. I have missed all the Good Cartoons, a fierce neighborhood jump rope competition, flying through the air time on my beloved Schwinn, and endured my brother’s unmerciful taunts.

And aged several years.

But, finally it is over and the cracked hand mirror reveals, long, jet black, gleaming straight tendrils..just like Shirley Temple…

Toni Morrison and The Bluest Eye knew exactly what she was talking about.

Self hate.

Conformity.

Integration.

Assimilation.

At age 20, I flew the coop and landed in Sunny Los Angeles. My first stop, a Barber.

Cut it all off. Down to the baby hair, Thank you.

Comments welcome! Thanks for Reading/Sharing!