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MaybeACoordinator

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Everything posted by MaybeACoordinator

  1. Going through old pics because of the death of my grandmother / mom and came across this -- 1996, my son's first Astros game.
  2. Rules, and a distraction from the anger and sadness in this thread
  3. Pre-WW2, there was a giant and growing white underclass. Bonnie and Clyde were just the sexiest. There were many more like them. And then the war came around, and white folks got the full benefits of the GI Bill and Black folks did not. So pretty all the white folks who had not assembled any generational wealth by 1941 were able to start putting it together, while the Black folks remained stuck with a foot placed firmly on their heads.
  4. I think there's more to the test than just the kid part somewhere out there. I remember it took me about 20-30 mins to take the whole thing.
  5. What I mean is they are / were assigned a place in the Hawaiian class / caste / race system, unlike on the mainland, where they just blend in. And yes they are very hot.
  6. She's a Portuguesa cowgirl poet....The Portuguese in Hawaii are a whole different thing than on the mainland. Hawaii is fucking weird and tragic.
  7. Here it is: https://implicit.harvard.edu/implicit/user/agg/blindspot/indexrk.htm
  8. I have this ongoing online relationship with a woman of color from Hawaii...She is hands-down the most intelligent person I've ever met in my life, and I've known me some smartypantses, including @Brisketexan. Anyway, she got me to take some psych test from Harvard or similar that purports to tell you how racist you are. My result: I actually prefer the company of people of color, but feel somewhat uneasy around them, mostly because of my own white guilt and shame. I was lucky enough to have attended fully integrated schools from k- through grade 3 and I think it really helped me to see people as people. My little wrestling partner in kindergarten was Black; my first little crush was as well. (She destroyed my poor crazy heart but that's a whole 'nother story). It's a disgrace and a tragedy that we as Americans have all but abandoned the ideal of fully integrated schools. And then living among the po' folks in England for three years, and marrying one, I learned that we too often misattribute the patholigies that come with the territory of poverty to race, because over here, we think, not entirely accurately, that Blackness equals poverty which equals crime. I am here to tell y'all that the white folks living in the projects in England act exactly like the Black folks in the projects in New Orleans. A working class pub in England is rougher than any old-school hole-in-the-wall bar or club than I've been to in any Houston ward, and I've visited more than a few. So while we do fixate on race because of our collective past, I have come to believe we need to more closely examine our (allegedly non-existent) class system.
  9. It would be so easy to totally reform the cops in theory: bust the pig unions, and put all police forces under the oversight of local governments (or state or fed as the case may be) and make them adhere to the Uniform Code of Military Justice. In the military, there are almost always severe consequences for bad actions, whether they result from sadism or incompetence or even in some cases "the fog of war." Cops should be forced to at least treat the American people as well as our occupying forces treat foreign citizens. Shitshow? C'mon man, it's like New Orleans. Without the architecture. Or the mystique. Or the food. Or the charm....I kid, a little, and I actually like Memphis, even as someone who was partially brought up in Nashville. (The rest of Tennessee likes to think Memphis does not exist and in reality it's the capital of Greater Mississippi / West Arkansas). Anyway, 7 Seconds is a very very very fucking underrated series that demonstrates the absolute impossibility of being a good cop under current conditions.
  10. Thinking of Nam now....At first my dad was a young jarhead who wanted to enlist as a fighter pilot but he was turned down over his eyesight. And shortly after that, the drugs took hold -- he was at UT when it first became awash in the music of the 13th Floor Eelvators alongside pot and acid, and he partook of all extremely freely for years, and I think introduced my younger mom to it in Houston. (I was told by one of her old running buddies that she was tripping while delivering me. I am an Acid Baby) Anyway dad continued in school. As soon as he'd get a degree (he has three) he'd get drafted again, and by this time he was anti-war. So the last time he got drafted, he took a hero dose of acid before getting processed in the old federal building in downtown Houston, same place Cassius Clay (as he was then known) refused to serve, and decades later, my son would take his oath to serve. So he recounted to me how he was in this long line of fellow draftees who were getting some kind of inoculation from a machine -- probably for tropical diseases. And he's there tripping balls and convinced himself they were all being administered "Vietnam Kill Juice." And so he had a panic attack and fainted in the line. He got 4-F'ed by an army shrink named Dr. Head an hour or so later, after he came back to conciousness. His gay brother was the braver of the two: he chose the conscientous objector path, with all the consequences that route came with. However it did work out pretty well for him in the end. He was fluent in French, so Uncle Sam dispatched him to Algeria or Morocco or somewhere like that to teach English via French....Talk about a kid in candy shop...To put it in straight dude terms, imagine being a 22-year-old teacher of English in Thailand or the Philippines. Mama told me Uncle returned from the war with forms of VD unknown to American science at the time.
  11. So back to dad....That GoFundMe he posted allegedly for me was basically a gigantic HIPPA violation that may well have wrecked my career forever...He set it up while I was briefly lucid between two comas and then wrote the message all on his own. I was furious when I came to and asked him why he had to do it when he did and the motherfucker said "Well, I've flown down here twice now and plane tickets aren't cheap these days." Beauty part -- one of those trips was already in the works anyway as he had two Houston gigs as part of his little singing career. (And now he's saying he flew down her four times and not two; witnesses say this is not true. And as the centerpiece of my GoFundMe page, he used a picture of himself looking sad rather a picture of me. To this day the page is listed as "For MaC, presented by MaC's dad. Other parties told him to change the picture and now it's of the two of us in happier times.) It's always been that way...After he dropped me off with my grandparents for the second time, when I was in HS, he'd slot in visits to me between sticking his dick in my second stepmother and tending to his dying brother's affairs. And he would be drunk half the time and stoned all the time. So we've been fighting and I sent him the painting attached -- Saturn Devouring His Son by Goya -- and it took him a couple of days of research, but he responded by filling me in on the rest of the story, the details I'd forgotten. Saturn later puked up his kids who then became gods, but one of the ingrateful bastards came back and chopped Saturn's dick off. "I hope you don't have something similar planned for me," he wrote. OK that's kinda funny, but once again, it's all about him.
  12. Aunt E is married to uncle-in-law V. He's a Swiss national but his dad was some famous French broadcaster and his mom a hot Afro-Nicaraguan. Those two broke up and she left little V with her next boyfriend's parents like a cowbird lays its eggs..He just kinda looks like a French dude but he's about a quarter Black, and his mom and her family are instantly recognizable as Black...My grandfather was kinda racist but he took it all in stride, mostly 'cause V's mom was / is very intimidating. Drinks straight rum and smokes little hand-rolled cigars. Anyway E and V's daughther Cousin K grew up as a privileged white girl in Houston, but when it came time for college Aunt E checked off the "Latina" box on her college application to a fancy school up north. She got in. As for the rest of us, we were furious that Aunt E did that without throwing a quinceanera,
  13. Yep alive and well. He was lucky he was the youngest of three brothers that night.
  14. Glad to see Beltran is off to a good start. In that half-season he was an Astro for the first time, he was the best all-around player I'd ever seen for Houston, especially in the playoffs, when he was otherworldly.
  15. Spring Break, freshman year at UT, 1989....my HS buddy I drove down there in my 76 Coupe de Ville (with no back windshield) and basically lived in it for a couple of days...Then one day in Matamoros I saw this girl I'd been smitten with since freshman year of HS...Somehow I knew I was going to see her there, even though she went to aggy (but was a total two percenter.). I saw her crossing the street and I literally picked her up and threw her over my shoulder while she giggled, and it was on for the rest of Spring Break after that. Fucking torrid. And she and her friends took us into their condo at the old Sea Grape motel. But one night a few days later we were down there partying -- Tone Loc, Paula Abdul etc. -- in some club and when we left, it felt like all Mexico had turned against all Texans. It was weird. The vibes were terrible -- dudes were trying to trip us up with jumpropes, others wanted to fight...I escorted my gal to the border plaza safely and we were aggressively making out when my buddy came running up saying some dudes had just tried to throw him in the back of a truck. My gal (my future ex-wife lol) and I kind of shrugged and resumed making out.... We all made it back to the Sea Grape and a day or two later we heard about that missing freshman, Mark Kilroy, who looked a lot like my best buddy.
  16. Some JAG had a hard-on for him....there was an inquiry into the loss of the Portent (aka the USS Yallareallgonnadie) and Capt. Howard's role in it....Typical Navy BS, going back to Royal Navy days. Thankfully the judge ruled that it was understandable for a minesweeper to hit a mine during the ordinary course of a massive land-sea invasion, and so his Navy career was spared.
  17. Northern fringes of the Metroplex are the ass-end of the American Dream.
  18. Expect a Skip Hollandsworth story in Texas Monthly. I know Skip (he's a great man) and he has this weird fascination with Frisco.
  19. To understand our family you have to know about The Fire. Happened about 1951 in Port Arthur. After having three kids -- inluding Aunt J, the one with fetal alcohol syndrome -- they got a chance to take a break and go to New Orleans. My grandmother's dad -- the young sailor pictured above -- had returned from the war with undiagnosed PTSD and a nasty case of alcoholism. So, anyway, my mom, uncle and aunt J were left in his care while they went off to NOLA....and he had a little backyard cookout. He warned my uncle and mom not to touch the can of gas he left near the BBQ pit for some reason, but they did anyway while his back was turned, and basically napalmed themselves almost to death. Mama spent months on a morphine drip as a toddler, so when she got ahold of some recreational heroin years later (courtesy of a GI in Nam) it constituted a relapse. Her brain was rewired back to how it had been as a toddler in the burns ward. I just discovered this declassified pic of what my great-grandfather had gone through. This happened off Anzio. Somewhere amid all that smoke and flame is the minesweeper he commanded. He might be in the pic -- I heard he was blown fifty feet clear of the bridge and all his uniform was incinerated. After recuperating he was given command of a tanker in the Pacific Fleet. But anyway.... Fuck all Nazis and Fascists No CR, motherfuckers.
  20. No, that marriage was ended by his parents...Although it's possible he might have impregnated her first.
  21. It's not gay if we're underway...rum, sodomy and the lash...Roger the cabin boy, etc....
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