Cynique

I pretty much agree with what you say, Delano and, of course, I'll be interested in your further feedback, but I won't necessarily be evaluating it because I certainly don't know the answers to the questions I pose. When I am moved to ponder the subject of reality, I simply sit down in front of the computer screen, place my hands on the keyboard, and questions just pop into my head. What I write seems to flow from my brain to my fingers and feed upon itself, spurring me to write more...

The nature of reality is an ongoing enigma, a subject that is frequently explored on this board. It's a concept that I never tire of contemplating. Is reality an illusion? Is illusion a reality because it can be mentally perceived? When it comes to reality, does it matter whether something is tangible or intangible? Is deception the same as an illusion, and is one person's reality another one's lie? The 2 pictures below were taken a couple of days ago. The first picture was taken about 20 minutes before the second one, proving how external factors can embellish and disguise. Nobody embodies the mystique of reality any more than humans who create the paradox of facades that are ironically real. I am Cynique and Cynique is me. "Me" is, of course, is an abstraction and an abstraction is real if it materializes into what it represents. Or is it? To be or to be. Do we have a choice? Cynique by any other name would be just as contrary. Alter egos have become options for those who believe it is true that both sides of a coin are real. Are truth and reality the same. Or is this false because it involves subjective judgment.???

How interesting to find these things out about Kam. Who knew???.

Good question. There has never been a vigorous campaign to elect a woman to the head of this organization. Women, themselves, don't seem inspired to take the helm. Maybe because the NAACP has become increasingly impotent and its leadship position a thankless task. But Myrlie Evers most certainly would have been a good choice to be the first woman to be its head. From its inception back in the early 1900s, the NAACP has a history of relegating its female members to lesser positions. Educator and prominent black feminist, Ida B. Wells, complained that she was not allowed to be in the NAACP's inner circle when it was first founded and that the only job assigned to her was that of "acting" secretary expected to do nothing more than write the minutes of the meetings. Although her name is on the NAACP charter, Wells was not granted a full fledged membership.

I find what both you and Troy say quite interesting and very deep, Delano. This in itself would seem to involve some kind of a commonality. When you two agree on something, what is the significance of that? Is life just a series of entities imagining things which sometime intersect with what others are imagining, enabling a semblance of understanding which altho real, tends to be subjective? Does this overlapping of imagination link us all and make us a part of a whole, a whole that represents the mind of whomever it is that imagined us? Is life, indeed, a dream within a dream???? When we attempt to translate our theories into words, is something lost in the translation? I believe so. The one exception to this possibility would seem to be the phrase "it is what it is". This assertion is infallible. I would venture to say that we are dealing in a world of tangibles and intangibles which collide because what the intangibilities of sight and hearing perceive about a tangible object is filtered through the individual's brain. So if blue is designated as the color a certain object, and when asked to identify the object "blue" in color, everybody asked to do so, selects the same object, what does this prove? Before I can even finish typing the answer jumps in my head. My blue may not be your blue but we are accepting the term blue to describe what our set of eyes see on a regular and consistent basis. As for chaos, I am very open to the idea that chaos may be order and order is chaos. Also, I remember hearing somewhere that Geometry is the language of the universe and that it would be the likeliest way for Earthlings to communicate with Aliens from another planet. I don't remember the reasoning behind this. I find all of this mind boggling. I contemplate whether the spaces between the words groping for enlightenment are where the "god" concept would fit in. No wonder people satisfy their mystification with the simplistic myths at the core of religion. This further brings to mind something else I once read about a discipline called the "Woo" principle, which claims that all answers to the unknown are contained in "Woo" an abstract receptacle of all knowledge to which humans are not privy. This was assumed to be pacifying because it hints that nothing is unknown; it's just unknown to us...

To me, the Catholic Church and its dogmas and rituals and symbolism is a prime example of a belief system that has its members in its grip, achieving this by instilling fear and guilt in them while not being overly concerned with factual knowledge. Moreover, Catholicism is a prime example of religion in general, which revolves around blind faith. Math, however, is a proven constant and its factual formulas are present in aspects of our lives that we are not even aware of, such as music which relies very much on equations. Math further gives an element of predictibility to the chaos of the entire universe. I agree that reality is moreorless a subjective thing. One way to cope with life is to view it in a way that makes us comfortable. If we are neurotic, of course, we view it in a way that satisfies our need to worry. If we are psychotic, we view it in a way that justifies our dysfunction. All of this why getting outside of ourselves is important because it's a way to gain perspective. Sometimes we have to be a spectator even when it comes to scenarios which we are a part of. We have to step back and simply observe for a minute. But the ego is such a powerful influence in our lives, and not always a positive one and it doesn't like to be co-opted. Buddhism seems to recognize this, which is why it promotes meditation as the path to achieving nirvana, the perfect state attained by transcending one's self. Of course this is also a belief system but it does deal with taking a overview, and doing this does help to see the big picture. The miniscule place I, as an individual, occupy in the universe is enough to make me realize that I am only important in my tiny personal sphere. Others would argue that everybody counts and that the "butterfly effect" resonates throughout the world, and that if I bat an eyelash this can initiate change someplace, somewhere. Or is that a figment of the ego? Who knows? And Who is Who??

Thanks for the belated birthday wishes, Delano. And calling me an "original" is a compliment coming from a critical thinker like you.

Without reading the book I can make some observations because one thing I learned from some young black men that I have encountered and observed, is that their "Big Mommas/ Grandmas/Mother-dears" hold a special place in their hearts. Usually because these women have raised or at least helped to raise them. So they can relate to a kindly white haired old women in a certain setting. I remember hearing about a case where an elderly victim of a home invasion reported that she was spared being raped by one of the young intruders when his companion objected to his molesting someone who could be his grandmother. It wasn't too long ago when I was more spry, that my kids used to chide me for going around to barbeque joints and shrimp houses and chicken shacks to pick up carryouts because these neighborhood places were frequented by loitering young homeboys. But their fears proved groundless because these dudes were always polite to me, opening doors, occasionally allowing me to go ahead of them in line, making small talk, saying "yes maam" and "no maam". Smiling and making eye-contact with them seem to turn them into shy guys happy to have pleased or accomodated a harmless old lady who did not look drastically different from Jane Chritchlow. I have no doubt that if I'd asked one of them to pose for a picture with me they would've agreed, throwing an arm around my shoulder, tilting their head toward mine. One of my own grandsons is a homeboy type, an outside child of my son, he is the kid who hangs up under me the most. While the others are busy achieving, he's working part time at White Castle but, like a lot of his buddies, he loves his gran-momma and Lil Wayne, loves to pick my brain and run errands for me when he's broke so he can earn money for loosies (cigarettes sold 2-for-a-dollar under the counter since in Cook County Illinois, the price of a pack of cigrettes is almost 10 dollars!) So far he's managed to resist the gangs. I can only hope. That's the tragic thing about so many of the younger generation of young black males is that there are 2 sides to them. They are just as capable of being kind as they are of being killers. You see their mug shots in the papers after being arrested for drive-bys, hear their families describe them as good kids, marvel at how young and innocent they look. But somewhere along the way they have lost their footing and the streets have won the battle for their souls... Yet another curse visited upon black America, who can't seem to win for losing.

Grammar, like cursive writing, is not even taught in public schools anymore. Forget about black teachers correcting or setting an example for their students. Substitutes and non certified teachers very often don't speak proper grammar, themselves. It's unforutnate how the descendants of slaves have such a struggle to rise above their humble circumstances, and how those who drag the race down are more successful in doing this than those who try to uplift it. Is this because, to the extent black citizens have assimilated, they are still just as much African as they are American and the DNA of their Nigerian motherland with its tribal culture and jungle environment, prevents the psyche of black Americans from totally adjusting to the hostile environment of the white western world??? Have Blacks remained strangers in a strange land??? Why does the downward spiral continue, - the whirl pool of white rejection and black self destruction that victimizes those who for centuries have been trying to conform to their adopted country? The President of the United States must certainly wonder this, himself.

Drawls, accents, twangs. these are all in the ears of the listener and it depends on what part of the country the listener is from, obviously. When I think "twang", speech that is nasal and high-pitched is what comes to my mind. which is why I disagree with twang being the word to describe how black Chicagoans talk. They speak from their throat and their tongues sometimes get in the way, all of which contributes to their tendency to mumble and to pronounce the word "ask" as "aks". They punctuate their speech with a lot of "you know what I'm sayin'" interjections and they kind of riff when they talk. They also use the word "like" to introduce a phrase; e.g: "like, you know what I'm sayin?". In speaking Ebonics, they have a long history with the verb "be". It's almost as if it helps to validate their very existence: "like, she be actin crazy, or Girl, I be so tired." Upwardly mobile Chicagoans, however, are very proficient at being bi-lingual, and are able to switch to standard English when the occasion calls for it. When I would visit the South back in the day, comments were always made about my speech. The fact that I talked fast seem to almost mesmerize folks, especially older people. Language is certainly tied to region and culture and is a fascinating subject.

I don't need to go to church to be reminded to "like" God and accept him as my "friend". All I have to do is to scroll down FaceBook and God, whose screen name is "Jesus" , is shoved down my throat with praises of his glory and promises of his reliability and threats of his wrath. Religion still elicts yawns and shrugs from me. Occasionally, however, it provides me with a good laugh and, ironically, FaceBook is once again the source of this comic relief.

I can't believe how President Obama has morphed into a bellicose Alpha Male, going from benign Nobel Peace Prize winner to an agressive saber rattler. His position on this Syria situation seems implicitly influenced by a need to remind that America is the most powerful country in the world and that, as its leader, he has the balls of a HNIC. All this subtefuge about poison gas and moral obigation rings hollow. What's the difference between killing innocent people with drones and machine gun fire as opposed to poison gas. One method is just as deadly as the other. In the end, the victims are just as dead. And the claims about chemcial warfare just as trumped-up as those about weapons of mass destruction were. Too blinded by his hubris, Obama's urgency to save his presidential legacy will backfire. He seems oblivious to the possibility of Syria ignoring his warnings. What will he do if things escalate??? What is his end game? The rats are all deserting the sinking ship as Obama stands at the helm, his erection drooping, visions of a smirking George Bush, haunting his resolve. England occupies itself with a new crown prince, while China checks its ledgers to make sure the U.S. has paid its latest loan installment, and Russia sips vodka while taking sides with Syria. The buck stops with a woegotten President Barak Obama, who should've been careful about what he wished for; because he got it. The audacity of hope, indeed. Watta farce. Back on the home front, the anti-war movement is stirring back to life and I'm ready to flash the peace sign.

I don't know that Chicagoans speak with southern accents, Pioneer. They most definitely speak Ebonics and street slang but they do so more with a slur than a drawl. Roots in Mississippi, yes. Louisiana? Not so much. More like Georgia and Alabama and Arkansas.

Not only that, according to Christianity, Jesus ended up being crucified, and abandoned, begging to know why he had been forsaken. We don't know whether he turned out "just fine" or not, since nobody but his "publicists" have heard from him since.

Thank you for the etymological explanation, Troy. Verrrry interesting name selection, and certainly an apt choice. I suspected that the rooster might have something to do with being a wake-up call.

Explain Huria's name and logo to me. I don't get it.

Well, with a new television season on the horizon, fans of the small acreen are being bombarded with the trailers touting all the new and returning shows. The announcement that jolted me the most was the revelation that Valerie Harper will be a contestant on Dancing with the Stars! It wasn't too long ago that Mary Tyler Moore's TV sidekick, a/k/a Rhoda, was appearing before cameras, putting on a brave face announcing that she had been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Although in her early 70s, Valerie/Rhoda was still feisty and upbeat, vowing to fight to the end. I feel so inadequate. Here this half-dead septagenarian is getting ready to go through her paces, subjecting herself to the demands of acing with the Stars, and it's all I can do to take a daily walk! You go, girl! What envokes the biggest yawn from me are the sound bites from Steve Harvey, whose popular talk show is based here in Chicago. Sporting his toothy grin, promising an upcoming season of more of the same drivel that has made him a favorite among daytime viewers, I'm less than enthusiatic about Steve's program. Harvey's appeal has always eluded me although his long running sit-com did prove he was capable of getting chuckles by saying what was written for him by others. But as a stand-up comedian, his humor was forgettable and his delivery desperate. (R.I.P. Bernie Mack. You were one of a kind.) A native of big-city Cleveland, inexplicably adopting the persona of a countrified dufus from down south, Steve uses his TV talk show to dispense the simplistic home spun advice that anyone with an iota of common sense should be able to figure out for themself. Elsewhere, his best-selling books telling women how to "think like a man" are nothin more than a re-hashing of the men-are-from-Mars and women-from-Venus litany. All decked out in the sartorial splendor that doesn't quite achieve the swag of suaveness, as the host of Family Feud, Steve repeatedly exposes himself as being ill-informed and baffled by what should be common knowledge. I don't catch his early morning radio show, but his black urban demograph doesn't call for him to do anything other than to provide black folks with an outlet for shuckin' and jivin' and bitchin'. Whatever. Steve Harvey has captured success. You can't argue with that. But you can analyse it. For one thing, he appeals to white people. Why? Because he projects the image of a non threatening black man. Smiling and muggin, playing the clueless buffoon, he entertains them. Secondly, he appeals to the black masses because he acts like one of their own. He's down to earth and god-fearing, and at ease in the ebonic vernacular. Who cares about having your intellect stimulated by black men of substance? Furthermore, who's to say that sly Steve Harvey hasn't earned his props in the superficial world of show biz? Speaking of which, the re-emergence of Arsenio Hall as a late night talk show host is also on the new fall show agenda. White audiences probably won't tune him in. He doesn't come across as harmless enough

Thanks, Troy. No biggie. I am clueless as to who, if anyone, even keeps up with Cynique or cares about her personal life. Lurkers are so nebulous and reluctant to post. I could just be talking mostly to myself. when I express my opinions here. So maybe I'm overreacting. My grandchildren have no idea about the alter ego I assume on this site. My kids are just vaguely aware of this activity and I don't encourage them to follow my online activities. This is a place where I can come and be myself, free from the scrutiny of those who are more comfortable with me being "Mommy" and "Nana" as opposed to an individual who marches to her own drumbeat and has no interest in being a Goody 2-shoes PollyAnna.

Ooooh, Troy. Enough already. This is more of myself than I want to share. I really do prefer anonymity although It does occur to me that because of my views being controversial and atypical of a woman my age, some may suspect that Cynique is a fictional character who is the figment of someone's imagination. But I am who I am. I just can't help it if I never got past being that girl with the bangs and pearls, a 17 year old high school graduate, ready to go out and face the world. Some might call that arrested development. I just attribute it to my core personality never changing. I am a natural born skeptic who graduated to being a cynic, - currently an octogenarian who sees the world through the eyes of an iconoclast, believing that everything new, is old. My favorite program the Science channel, has done shows exploring the nature of reality. One of the posulations favored the idea that those who people brand as pessimists are really those who are more in touch with the real world. Too many others get caught up in viewing it through rose-colored glasses, a sphere where wishing will make it so. But, in reality, life is a bitch which promises you nothing... ...and speaking of bitches, you didn't post the picture which I think captures the true essence of whom I embody. Maybe I'll do that myself. Meanwhile back to Obama's dilemma. On second thought, the prospect of an Iraq re-play in Syria, summons my weary cynicism and shifts my focus to more trivial things like what Halle Berry will name her expected baby. How about "East" - or "Who" - as in who gives a damn?

Your far-fetched attempts at being witty are never on point, Pioneer. That's because they are irrelevant and silly, as opposed to being funny. I can tell something about you, too, and I don't need to see your picture to sense that you are a dud, - and I don't mean dude.

Why did reading this excerpt make me laugh?? I think because the only reaction it inspired in me was an urge to critique the writing style which with its belabored metaphors struck me as amateurish. But - what does an over the hill broad like me know? Reading a couple of Zane books doesn't make me an expert. Obviously there is an audience for people who want to have sexual activity described to them even if the effect can be more about corniness than horniness. Reminds me of how Freud droned on and on for years deconstructing the sexuality of women until finally feminist voices came forward and challenged his undisputed studies. They insisted It was presumptuous of him to tell females how they felt. For a quick fix, women can probably get adequately turned on by reading what the ads for vibrators promise. That's because these blurbs stimulate the imagination! Out of curiosity, I once attended a sex toy party hosted by a friend. On display for purchase were a varied assortment of vibrators designed to fly you to the moon. You never saw a room full of more excited women, uncrossing their legs, giggling and nudging each other, eyes aglow, everyone full of anticipation as they picked out their weapons of choice. Men and erotica were the last things on their minds. They were seeking what guanteed sensual pleasure. Did I make a purchase? Yes, I felt obligated to buy something. And I thought my husband would be amused. Women are peculiar unpredictable sexual beings. Their brain is their sex organ; they give sex to get love. Cuddling fills the needs of some, others want to be talked dirty to. Many, no doubt, want to read books that romanticize sex.The formulaic "showing instead of telling" style of writing could apply here. But maybe not. Simulating sex with words takes as much skill as being a good lover. Anybody can verbalize titillating the clitoris. A vaginal orgasm is beyond words. Men? they're too much about the ego phallic symbol as this country prepares to ejaculate missiles into Syria's coochie to show Russia that America has a bigger penis and is more potent.

Twitter is still blowing up and everybody continues to be all up in arms over Miley Cyrus' dancing exhibition at the Video Music awards Sunday. Even more riled are the parents of young fans of wholesome Hannah Montana, the alter ego who Miley formerly portrayed on the Disney channel TV show of the same name. Me, I can't stop laughing. I knew we were in trouble as soon as Miley erupted on stage sporting a close-shaved hair-do that featured 2 horn-like knots sprouting from the sides of her head, lashing her tongue like a seductive serpent. To be honest, her grinding gyrations were devilishly lewd, made even more so when she stripped down to her scanty underwear, shaking her booty, bending over, peeking between her legs, simulating masturbation and twerking Robin Thicke who joined her on stage to sing his racy chart topping hit, "Blurred Lines". If Miley's intent was to shock everyone and to cause a world-wide stir, she succeeded by pulling out all of the stops. Take that, Lady Ga-Ga! You've been served. I applaud Miley for not taking herself as seriously as all these scandalized adults do. She's a brazen, free spirit obviously not interested in being a role model, undoubtedly believing that this is a job for mothers to fill. Furthermore, the VH-1 video awards show have never been for their decorum. With the news that America is once again gearing up to wage war, stopping its launching of drones in Iraq long enough to teach Syria a lesson in the ethics of mass murder, Miley's pop culture brouhaha is a welcome distraction. By making plans to intervene in the civil unrest taking place in Syria, Obama, his UN flunkies and war mongering generals have made Miley and her raging hormones a passionate alternative of making love, not war. Do your thing, Miley! Thumb your nose at the stuffiness of propriety. It'll all be forgotten next week.

I went to see "Lee Daniels' The Butler" over the week-end with my granddaughter. She loved it, declaring it to be a great history lesson. I liked it OK. I think my luke warm endorsement has to do with me finding out that a white person wrote the screen play. When asked about his credentials to undertake this, his answer was predictable. He said he did research and interviews and then put his empathy and writing skills to work. The result was a fictionalized episodic journey, plodding through the 1930s Jim Crow South up until the Ronald Reagan presidency in the 1980s. Although I could not relate to everything in the movie, all the events were familiar to me because, like the person whose life this film was based on, I had lived through the terms of the Presidents he served. And as I have said on numerous occasions, it depends on what part of the country you lived in as to what your black experience consisted of. Things were not as bad up North as they were down south, where sharecroppers were one notch above being slaves. It was obvious to me that the guy who wrote the script felt an obligation to incorporate stereotypical scenarios in the emblematic plot line, giving a nod to famous black legends along the way. The characters were each created to represent a certain point of view. They were driven and limited by what they were portraying rather than who and, as a result, they were 2-dimensional. Music styles were used to identify what time period the quest for equality was going through, and what the characters wore actually served more as costumes. I also felt the Ebonic-tinged dialogue was self-conscious, especially in the comic relief snapshots. Slang is one thing; broken English another. BTW, the word "nigger" was generously dispersed throughout the movie. Nevertheless, all the actors, including Oprah, gave a good accounting of themselves, and as a vehicle that serves as a history lesson for the younger generations "the Butler" does an adequate job. **1/2. It was appropriate that after seeing this movie, the 50th anniversary of the March On Washington, another event I had witnessed, was played out on TV. I never thought that, over the years, things would regress. MLk had a dream but "we was overcome". Congressman John Lewis, civil rights veteran who was there 50 years ago, entreated the crowd to not "give out, not give in, and not give up." Good advice. I guess. And while I'm on the subject of monumental events I must say that Kanye and Kim's daughter, "North" certainly outshines England's newest heir to the throne, Prince George. I'm still waiting for that sleeping cue ball who looks like a crabby old man to get cute.

I assure you that the person in that photo collage is really me, Pioneer. For you to question my credibiity is why, back in the day, you could not have enticed me to be on "your team." Now, as this octogenarian was saying...stfu.

Pat Roberts is a prime example of how dangerous religion is when it's preached by a bigoted self-righteous bible thumping fundamentalist who believes he has a hot line to heaven and that he is a spokesman for god. Roberts is a false prophet who spreads a gospel of judgmental divisiveness. and thinks his personal opinions are validated by the bible. If anybody is the anti-christ, it's HIM. Black Christians think Jesus is their savior and rather than question reality, they cling to the idea that he will one day reward them for their blind faith. It's easier to just surrender to this idea than to question scriptures written and cobbled together by manipulative power hungry mortals. Where religion is concerned, it's like "God" is a masterful cult leader, highly skilled at mind control, using it to create a congregation with a collective consciousness that is maintained by fear. As for Dr. Ben Carson who is afflicted with an acute case of Republicanitis, he needs to heed the advice that commands: "Physician, heal thyself!"