Black Jesus Returns


     Brad was traipsing along one day, absentmindedly checking his phone when he scrolled across some distressing news!!!

     “Maaan, they made Ariel black?! That’s bullshit!!!”, he exclaimed loudly to no one in particular. “God damned social justice warrior bullshit! Fucking snowflakes! Jesus Chri…”, and before he could even finish that sentence, the sky opened up and a beam of light shone down from on high and on that beam was the Lord Savior, Jesus Christ of Nazareth, motherfuckers!!!

     Jesus was resplendent in his simple robes and his dope Nike sandals. “You called, bruh?” Brad was shocked. He wasn’t shocked because he was standing in the presence of God, he was shocked because Jesus was as brown as dark stained wood with a curly fro that was the most perfect he’s ever seen. “Wha…who are you?” “I’m Jesus, my dude! Why you trippin’ about a fictional character?” Jesus was curious to hear Brad’s answer. “Wait, Jesus is white! You’re blaspheming!!” Brad retorted. Jesus gets this a lot. “Naw, homey. Why would you expect someone born in the Middle East, in what is modern day Israel, to be Caucasian? How many crackas you know from there?”

     “I don’t believe you. You’re just fucking around! Wentworth? Is that you, dude? Blackface is wrong, guy!” Brad chuckled like someone who didn’t really think blackface is wrong. Jesus saw through his lie. “Fuck you, Brad. I’ve seen your Facebook profile. Those party pictures lead me to believe you love blackface. Blackface IS wrong, by the way.” Brad was offended. “Jesus doesn’t curse!! My profile is set to friends only!!!” Brad has begun to sweat ever so slightly, as if he is being judged, and he isn’t sure he’s getting a good score so far. Jesus noted his discomfort, and got up to his neck in Brad’s ass. “FUCK YOU, BRAD. I’M JESUS, MOTHERFUCKER. I CAN DO WHATEVER I DAMN WELL PLEASE!”, Jesus said, his voice echoed, booming with the deepness of James Earl Jones and the swagger of Samuel L. Jackson. He calmed himself and continued. “Now, why you drinking so much Hater-aid? You done given yo self haterbetes!!! 

     Brad chose his words carefully. “Uh, well, cause she’s always been white. It’s integral to the character.” Jesus’ dark eyes rolled until you could see the whites clearly. “Brad, she’s fictional half fish, half human. Her color ain’t got shit to do with anything. Now, if she was say, Black Panther or someone playing Martin Luther King Jr., then sure, color would be integral to the character. This is not one of those situations.” Brad decided to get brave. “Hollywood and other people are just doing diversity for the sake of diversity!!! Women and woke snowflakes are ruining it!”

     Jesus got out his golden pic, which he did when he was really trying to make a point, puffed out his magical afro, then spoke. “So, let me get this straight. The Caucasian man has been overwhelmingly represented in all forms of media, history, and religion forever. You have played people of color such as African and native Americans and portrayed them as racist stereotypes mind you. You have forced your religion on people who were happy as they were. You have written history books in your own image making the white man the hero when, much of the time, they were the villain. You continue trying to hide behind the law to try and force your religious and moral views on women who are quite content and capable of making decisions about their own bodies. You blame your inability to find jobs on brown immigrants who are, without complaint, doing the jobs you refuse to do then in the same breath you call them lazy criminals who are a burden on the system. You are born with a built in opportunity to receive every privilege there is, yet you are pissy and moany about everything! I have a theory: Maaaaaaaaybe you feel threatened that your majority and self granted, in your mind superiority is quickly eroding. By 2050, white people will not only be a physical minority, but a vocal one. If you want to cry ’bout that go ahead. Your fate was sealed over 250 years ago when slave massa couldn’t keep his white cockship Enterprise out of all those black holes. Your people have enslaved and subjugated just about every non-white race on Earth and even some of your own people!!! So….YOU DON’T GET TO BITCH ABOUT A GOD DAMNED FICTIONAL MERMAID’S COLOR….NIGGGGGA.”

     Lightning struck close-by with a rolling rumble of deep, bone rattling thunder as if for emphasis. “Ooops, sorry Dad! I forget every time.”

     Brad listened this supposed Jesus’ rant and doubled down on stupidity. You never ever double down on stupidity. “I’m just saying white men are under attack for no reason. All this #MeToo shit and social justice agenda has me not knowing how to act is all I’m saying.” Jesus had it. “YOU DON’T ACT LIKE AN ENTITLED, MISOGYNISTIC, SEXUALLY ASSAULTING, RACIST DOUCHEBAG!!! You know what?” Jesus cracked his knuckles, “You gon learn today!!! BLACKNESS!!!!”, Jesus intoned, and there was a dark cloud that began to swirl around Brad. His skin began to turn the color of dark chocolate, his naturally wavy blonde hair curled up tightly and became like black wool, and he grew 4 solid inches….in height. “There, now you black!!! Now you will know all about how minorities live their lives in fear.”

     Brad, now black as a windowless room with the lights turned off, continued his run towards the stupidity hall of fame. “Oooooh, can I say nigga, now?” As soon as the word left his mouth a police cruiser pulled up and flashed it’s lights. WOOP WOOP! The officer got out of the car. “Hey, you live around here? Let me see your ID.” Brad had never been stopped walking before. “Of course. Sorry, officer, I was talking to Jesus here….?” Jesus had faded away like a sweet jumper and was nowhere to be found. “Jesus, huh?”, the officer said, obviously unconvinced. “Is Jesus one of your mexican gangbanging homies?” Brad was still approaching the situation as if he was white. “No, officer. Why are you stopping me? I’ve done nothing wrong. Why do you need to see my license?!”

     Now the cop was getting riled. “Look, boy, don’t question me when I ask you to do something!!! Show me your FUCKING LICENSE!!!” Brad relented, still giving attitude. “Fine! Calm down. Here is my license.” Brad hands the cop his license. The cop takes it and looks at it with a puzzled look on his face. “Is this a fucking joke? Whose license is this?!” “Mine!”, Brad chirped, his voice betraying the fact that he just now remembered that Jesus turned him black but his driver’s license still shows a white dude’s photo. Things are not going well. “I mean, uh, Jesus turned me black, but I promise that’s me. officer!” The cop remained highly skeptical. “Are you one of those crazies? Too much of the crack cocaine, boy?!!! Huh?!” The cop reached for his radio to call dispatch to prepare for an ambulance to take Brad to a hospital for psych eval. Brad’s heart was in his throat. Why was this happening? He moved towards the officer to explain…

     “DON’T YOU TAKE ANOTHER STEP, MOTHERFUCKER, OR I’LL FUCKING DROP YOU!!!”, the officer screamed as he pulled his service weapon from its holster and trained it on Brad. “WOAH!! PLEASE DON’T SHOOT, MAN!!! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!!!”, Brad cried as he covered his face and curled up in total crippling fear. Just then there was another lightning crack and thunder roil. Brad looked up at the officer and in his place was Jesus, picking out his ‘fro again, laughing. “Hahahahahaha, you should have seen your face, Brad! You went ashy as fuck, dude!” Jesus pulled a fat joint from the nether, lit it, and took a long drag. Brad stood up and dusted himself off. He looked at his hand and noticed it was white again. He was white again!!! “Jesus….”, Brad started, but Jesus interrupted. “That’s Black Jesus, bitch. You give a shit about a white mermaid princess now?”

     Brad, shaken and thankful to be alive and returned to his normal state, measured his words and spoke, “I mean, making her black is just pandering to the PC left media….” BOOM!!!!! There was a bright flash of light! When it subsided, Brad was gone. There was nothing but a pile of ash next to a pair of smoking boat shoes. Jesus got on the radio in the cruiser. “Yeah, Uncle Beezy? What up, my smokey nigga?!!! I got another one for Hitler’s work detail.”

     Thank you for reading. I am rusty and this was meh, but it’s a story. I have been promising forever to do more stories. Now that I have a new gifted laptop, there will certainly be more of my satire and twisted sense of humor.

Sincerely,

The Geekfather

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July 12th, 2017, Motherfucker!!!


There are many dates throughout our lives that we remember for whatever reason, good or bad. The title of this blog is the date on which my life and its course changed irrevocably.  Up until July 12th, my life was difficult but it was what I was accustomed to. You see, I have congenital congestive heart failure, Left ventricular to be more specific. I have had it for 20 years and became accustomed to the limitations it put onto my life, which were some, but not many. Then I developed chronic kidney disease, which comes with the heart failure territory, sooner or later. I thought, “Ok, this is just another issue to adapt to. No biggie.” Medications kept my fluids in check and my kidneys, though compromised, still did the job they were designed by biology to do. I did most of the things other people my age did, but mostly, I drank. 

 

July 12th, 2017 was probably the worst day of my life, other than my parents’ deaths. Many days before, I was preparing to celebrate my 42nd birthday, ‘Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’ style. This was going to be the year of 42!!!! The answer to the question: Life, the Universe, and Everything. It was going to be grand. It started slowly with slight weight gain, which I just brushed off, then it progressed to a feeling of fullness, lethargy, and ultimately, extreme nausea and a loss of appetite. This was on my birthday. I remember not wanting to see my birthday movie, ‘Spiderman: Homecoming’, but you see, I have this character flaw wherein I feel great panic if I think I am disappointing people, especially my friends. So I pulled it together and went to the movie. It was a great movie, of course, but I couldn’t truly enjoy it in my condition. I was stubborn. I thought it was just a stomach bug and it would pass. I let this ordeal continue far longer than it should have. Maybe I truly, deep down realized what was happening, but I did not want to admit it. Admitting it made it true, you see. I didn’t want to admit my fear that I was in kidney failure, again.

 

After a few instances of almost passing out, I drove my stupidly difficult self to the emergency room. It was July 8th, I believe. I don’t specifically remember. They told me I was fluid overloaded. This was something that has happened before so I knew the drill; Intravenous diuretics to help my kidneys eliminate the excess fluids. Only this time, nothing was happening. NOTHING. I wasn’t urinating. I should have been pissing buckets. I was getting really scared. “What if this time was different? What if my kidneys were done?” On July 12th, that question was answered. My nephrologist at the time was a nice man named Larry Davis. Although he was nice, he was a matter of fact type of guy. He came in my room and broke the news to me: I had developed ESRD. End stage renal disease. This was it. I was always afraid of dialysis, but thought, “That’ll never be me.” Well, now it was me. I thought my life was done. Therapy three times a week forever, or I would die. This news was like being hit with a wrecking ball. It altered my life, but I wasn’t aware of that yet.

 

As I lay in my hospital bed, hooked to a large machine cycling my blood out, cleaning it, then cycling it back in, I was hit with all the things I believed I could no longer do. Drink, smoke weed (I really miss that one), urinate. You’d be surprised how much you miss peeing until you can no longer do it, cause sometimes you just need a really good piss, amirite?! I was under the impression that even though I had advanced heart failure and a newly minted diagnosis of ESRD, I could still work full time. My body made it abundantly clear that that was complete crazy talk. Who listens to crazy talk?! No one, that’s who! So I dragged my body through each day, struggling more and more. The work days after dialysis treatments were especially challenging. Challenging like climbing Mount Everest without supplemental oxygen. That means it was super hard and sucked super bad, just saying. I had filed for social security disability and Medicare coverage. I was counting the days until I was approved, then I would quit magnificently like Scarface from Half Baked.

 

Then October 17th came and my illusion came crashing in. I was denied disability because I was still earning too much money. So, the decision was made. I had to quit my job. What a scary thing to do! It had to be done, cause to get help, the government wants you to be completely destitute. Who needs to pay bills or have a roof over their head while the government takes 4 to 6 months to review your case? That’s just plain nonsense. Being homeless is so underrated!!!  So as of right now, I wait, praying that my meager 401k and driving Uber and Lyft part-time can sustain me until my benefits kick in. I would work full time, but I have an earnings limit of $1160 a month. That’s not even $300 a week. I’m on the razor’s edge here. I’ve crossed over from the safe zone into the danger zone. I’m riding the lightning. I am in uncharted territory and I am terrified. Change is difficult for me. This whole process has been difficult. There have been multiple emotional breakdowns and I imagine there will be many more.

 

 

New normal is a motherfucker.

Teenage Mutant Ninjacking Turtle!


*DISCLAIMER* THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING. YOU WON’T LOOK AT NINJA TURTLES THE SAME IF YOU READ THIS. IF YOU CHOSE TO CONTINUE, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. YOU’LL EITHER LAUGH YOUR ASS OFF OR NEVER COME HERE AGAIN.

 

 

 

 

Michelangelo was in his room relaxing after yet another tough street fight with the Foot Clan. He and his brothers fought Shredder and tore him a new turtlehole as usual. He retreated like a punk bitch as usual. While on the way home, Rocksteady and Beebop thought they could take advantage of the situation, but those fools got schooled too.
“No chance.” Mikey mumbled out loud to himself. Mikey was so awesome during that fight, literally yelling out “I’m righteous wicked, dude!!!!” He was chilling out waiting for the pizza guy to show (why they allow the pizza guy to see their hidden underground lair was beyond him) when his thoughts drifted to April O’Neil, the crack field reporter. She was always there on the scene, getting footage of them, helping in their fight, and inevitably needing their protection. His room was adorned with a disturbing amount of pictures of her, especially involving her ample breasts.
Mikey realized his little turtle was out of its shell. He was a teenager and the hormones were strong, even more so enhanced by the green radioactive ooze. Daredevil went blind and got enhanced senses and sonar, while all Mikey got was becoming a teenage mutant ninja turtle that got the most inappropriate monster boners. Right now was one of those times. “I got time before the pizza gets here! I can’t deny the TURTLE POWER!!!!!”
He found himself staring at all his April pictures on his wall like a horny teenager…who happens to be a six foot seven, 450lb turtle. Leo, Raph, and Donnie all thought he was crazy for being hot for a human woman. Raph was always saying “Turtles can’t bone people, ya numbskull!!! There are laws!” Well, he was a dreamer! Those titties of hers were always straining against her stupid yellow jumpsuit. “How many of those fucking things does she own?” Mikey thought to himself. Those thoughts led him to pull out “The Box” under his bed. The one that had the ‘more adult’ stuff he had of hers, which included a pair of her panties. Mikey had lifted a pair from her dresser when they were scouting her apartment after they first met her. Raph said it was to make sure she was “Cool n’ shit.” The panties were yellow. All of her panties were yellow. “What’s her deal with yellow, anyway?” He figured she wouldn’t miss a pair.
“Oh, April, let me help you out your jumpsuit…oh what I’m going to do to you…” Mikey was now in full furious stroke when April burst into his room..
“MIKEY!!! WE GOT A LEAD ON…..HOLY SHIT, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!!!!” April was mortified.
Mikey recoiled in shock and embarrassment. He fumbled with her panties and was trying to put his monster back in the shell.
“THE FUCK, MIKEY?! HOW DID YOU GET A PAIR OF MY PANTIES?! WHY WERE YOU MASTURBATING WITH THEM? GOD, WHY DOES YOUR PENIS LOOK LIKE THAT ALIEN GOO SNAKE FROM ‘PROMETHEUS’?! Even in absolute horrific shock, April still asked a ton of questions.
Mikey paused, still holding her yellow panties, “Uhhhh, what answer would get you to not tell Master Splinter about this? I mean, I borrowed a pair from your dresser when we were scoping your pad, dude. They were all yellow! I didn’t think you’d miss one pair! As for my penis, I’m a turtle. I have a turtle dick. You ever see a turtle dick?”
“NOOOOOOO!!!!! EWWWW!!!! WHY WOULD I LOOK FOR TURTLE DICK ON THE INTERNET?!” April was fuming now
“Curiosity? Once you go green…..”
“AHHHHGGGGHHH!!!! NOOO!!! THOSE WERE MY FAVORITE PAIR!!!! April interrupted.
Mikey was puzzled. “How can you tell?”
“I…JUST KNOW! DON’T JUDGE ME!!! MASTER SPLINTER!!!!! COME HERE!!!” The judgment in April’s eyes was unmistakable. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re so busted.”
Master Splinter appeared as if out of nowhere into the doorway, looking very grim and serious as always. “What….is the problem, my dear April?”
“I caught MICHELANGELO plaaaaaaying with himself while fondling and sniffing my panties!!!”
Splinter looked away from April and directly at a very guilty Mikey. “Yes….your favorite yellow ones…” Splinter whispered softly to himself with a wistful glint in his eye.
April shot a glare at Splinter. “What?!” Splinter recovered like a ninjitsu  master. “Oh, nothing, nothing.” Splinter rose, back straight, “MICHELANGELO!!!!! YOU HAVE BROUGHT SHAME UPON THIS HOUSE!!! APOLOGIZE AT ONCE FOR YOUR DEVIANT BEHAVIOR!!!!”
Mikey was still trying to shrink his boner now hidden under his Incredible Hulk bed sheets. He was still staring at her breasts, which seemed to heave to and fro and almost throb on their own. How did her top remain closed. It was like she was wearing a smedium on purpose. “I’m sorry, April. I hadn’t ever planned for you to catch me ninjacking…”
“LOOK AT HER EYES!!!!” Splinter commanded. He was staring at her chest too, but he was better at hiding it. He missed being a human at times like this so much. Mikey raised his eyes to meet April’s. “I’m sorry. Do….you…want your panties back, dude?”
“EWWW, NOOOO!!!! BURN THOSE!!!!” April yelled. Then, composing herself, said more calmly “It is ok, I GUESS. Just…give me a lot of space. I don’t want to see you near my stuff again!”
Mikey looked over at Splinter, who returned his gaze with a look of stern disapproval. The stare burned through Mikey’s soul. “Ok.” Mikey said with the tone of a child who disappointed his parent.
“April, I apologize for my student’s actions. I will reprimand him accordingly. He will learn his lesson well.” Splinter was shrunken now in his standard slumped posture, as if asking for April’s forgiveness.
“Good! I’m…going to go now and pretend I never had this experience.I don’t know why I thought a turtle dick would look like a human dick.I need a drink.” The words trailed off as she rushed out the door.
Splinter stared at Mikey for what seemed like a 1,000 years before he finally spoke. “Michelangelo, what is the lesson to learn from this?”
Mikey thought hard for a moment then offered his answer, “Don’t masturbate, Master Splinter?”
“NO!!!” Splinter bellowed. “LOCK. YOUR. DOOR.” Splinter looked at him more softly now. “Now, put away your weapon and wash your hands. The pizza is here. Don’t touch mine, please.”

Acts of A God Aren’t Covered.


Vincent was listening to the All My Friends are Right Here Podcast like he usually does on slow nights when the call came in. The call was from a number in Metropolis.

Fuck, he loved these calls.

Vince: “LuthorCorp Mutual, this is Vincent, how can I help you this evening?”

The caller sounded apprehensive and a more than a little shaken. “H..h..hello, my name is Joe. I’d like to file a claim.”

“Okay, Joe, I can help you with that. I did a search by your phone number and see that you’ve had claims before?” Vincent knew he did, but he liked to hear these people moan about Superman dropping a building on their car or Batman crashing through their living room and having a fistfight with 20 other strange dudes. It always made his night.

Joe knew Vincent was looking at his long history of filed claims. Joe has the misfortune of living downtown in a rent controlled high-rise…right next to The Daily Planet. He routinely had Superman on his roof as well as the rest of the Justice League using it as a “rally point”. He could literally hear them on his roof going on about “justice” and “vengeance”. Superman was always, “But truth, the American Way, guys!!!” Joe always thought that dude was a total pussy,

“Yes, I have. I don’t want to talk about those.” Joe felt it coming….

“HOLY SHIT, SUPERMAN THREW YOUR CAR AT DARKSEID?! MAN THAT MUST HAVE BEEN AWESOME!!!!!” Vincent said with a joyous tone.

“No, guy, it wasn’t! I had just bought that car. I saved up for years to get that car! He could have picked up the dump truck right next to it, but it’s like that asshole picked my car specifically. You guys didn’t pay that claim!!! I was out thousands! My credit score tanked!” Joe was seeing where this was going.

Vincent, hiding the glee in his voice, said, in a very professional manner, “Well, yes, we cover acts of God, not acts of A god. You understand, don’t you?”

Joe’s anger was simmering, “HE’S NOT A GOD!!!! HE’S A MAN!”

Vincent: “Superman.”

Joe: “What?”

Vincent: “He’s Superman sir. He’s an alien; an illegal alien at that. So we also wouldn’t cover damages by a non-citizen. It’s in your policy.”

Joe: “He can’t be an illegal alien AND a god, man! He’s from fucking Kansas!!!”

 

Vincent: “No, he landed there, allegedly, and was raised by two as yet unidentified people. The US Government allows him to stay, because, well, they can’t make him leave.”

Joe:”Unidentified?! Uhhh, General Zod destroyed The Kent farm and went on and on about ‘Kal El’ and ‘BRING HIM TO MEEEEEE!’ in his best menacing super villain tone. Then Superman shows up and they wreck downtown Smallville?! That shit was on TV! Doesn’t it seem strange that Clark Kent reported on that fight like 5 minutes AFTER it was over? Like he was just lurking around? Don’t you think that’s strange? Like he knew already, or that he IS Superman?”

Vincent: “That’s preposterous, sir. Clark Kent wears glasses and cannot fly! Pffft! Besides, he was reported at work that day in Metropolis by Lois Lane. Why would she lie? She’s won a Pulitzer. He showed up later because he was concerned about his mom.”

 

Joe: “Really?! Let’s just get to my current claim, ok?”

Vincent: “Alright sir. What happened?”

Joe: “Superman threw my new car at Brainiac.”…..

Vincent burst out laughing: “Why would you think we would cover that this time if we didn’t last time?”

Joe: “This time the car landed in my living room.” Joe was pretty downtrodden now and pretty certain he only existed for Superman to torment him. Maybe he was just the creation of some hack blogger who thinks he’s funny. Joe never did get this whole Multiverse shit.

Vincent was amazed. “Dang, it’s like he knows where you live. As if he deliberately started fighting Brainiac outside your building, found your new car, picked it up in the air, got Brainiac positioned right in front of your window, and then threw the car right through him and the window? Man, bad luck, sir. I’m sure it wasn’t deliberate.”

Joe butted in, “Nah, I’m pretty sure it was!!! I heard him say, ‘I’ll show him who’s a fucking pussy.’ It’s as if he heard me that one time I said it out loud.”

Vincent, astonished at Joe’s ignorance, followed up, “Uh, he did. He can hear everyone at once. I wish you hadn’t mentioned that sir. There is a clause in your policy that states, ‘Talking shit about Superman, to Superman, about one of his friends, co-workers, mom, his dog, his chick, his side chick, and his cousin means he can destroy your property cause he’s mad. Also, Superman would never say those words. He’s a boy scout, sir.”

By this time Joe was nearly defeated, but he still kept fighting. “What the fuck kind of rule is that?! Boy Scouts don’t have side chicks!!! So this petulant asshole gets to fuck shit up because his feelings ARE HURT?!!!! That’s ridiculous!!! Only huge douchebags would…….”

Just then, a huge rending sound echoed through the phone, followed by a blood-curdling scream…”AAAARRRGGGGGHHHHH….”

 

”FFFFUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKK YYYYOOOOUUUUUUSSSSUUUPPPERRRRRRMMAAAANNN…..”  was heard, tailing off as if it got farther and farther away at what sounded like a rapid speed.

Vincent: “Sir?! Joe?! Hello?! Are you there?!”

Superman: “Hello, citizen, this is……..SUPERMAN. Joe can’t come to the phone. He’s gone on vacation just now.”

Vincent was afraid to ask, but he did anyway. “How?  Where?”

Superman, very calmly, said, “In his car, to Central City.”

“But…his car was in his living room and it was broken, obviously.” Vincent didn’t like the turn this took just now.

Superman, again, calmly, “I FIXED IT. I GAVE HIM A PUSH START…TO MACH 4. Had to show him how fucking pussies throw.”

The phone line went dead. Vincent stayed quiet for a long time. After what seemed like forever, he blurted out, “WOW, SUPERMAN DOES CURSE!!!!”

I Don’t Need A Backiotomy!


I hadn’t planned to blog about anything else this week after One Lone Black Nerd I Be, but my experience over these past couple of days needs to be shared. My close friends are aware of my struggles with chronic pain from gout and more prominently, from my lower back, sciatica, and numbness with tingling in my feet. I have suffered for years, partly due to insurance deficiencies and mostly due to my own stubbornness.

I hadn’t seen a doctor not just because I hadn’t had the insurance, but because, frankly, I was afraid to go. I feared the doctor would find something major wrong with me and add it to the already long list of ailments: heart disease, gout, abnormal kidney function, inability to do math, weakness for tall brunettes, and high risk for diabetes. That was the big fear. My father was diabetic. He had it really bad. Even with all his efforts, he lost the battle at 61. I am so scared that my ending will be the same so I try to take things more seriously when it comes to my doctor’s orders and recommendations. I’ve been diagnosed as diabetic before. I started working out and lost weight and got things back under control, but then my heart decided to crush me down to the brink followed by my back. I sat on my ass for almost 2 years now; my back not even allowing me to walk any length without extreme pain and my feet turning into numb bricks. I needed my back so I could get to work on making my heart better through exercise, so I finally decided to address the problem.

I made an appointment to see a highly respected and regarded local spine specialist a month ago and yesterday was the appointment. I do my research. When you go to the doctor as much as I do, you want someone capable, with a good bedside manner. They often have to give you news you don’t want to hear. It’s easier to take with niceness than with a cold detachment. The specialist did her exam and basically told me what I feared it always was…neuropathy. I immediately had thoughts of losing my feet like I’ve seen happen to so many others. I got x-rays, scheduled a CT, and an EMG (Electromyogram) to test for nerve damage. She also prescribed me two weeks of a drug called neurontin. I was like, “Great, another medication”, but this one has done a magic trick.

The medication has alleviated my back pain, numbness, and burning nerve pain in my legs, lumbar, and even my cervical spine by at least 85%. I still have the occasional twinge or sciatic ache, but let me tell you the near immediate change after I took this medication was mind-blowing. I felt like I was Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz where she opens the door from Kansas into Oz and everything goes from dirty, Dust Bowl black and white to majestic Technicolor. The Dark Side of the Moon was playing in my head, yes, because I know you were wondering. I must have stared at the ceiling for at least 5 minutes, looking at the tiles as if I had never really seen them before. My nerves no longer fired off in excruciating volleys of searing pain. I didn’t have to sit down once today to make the feeling come back to my feet. When I stood up, it was as if my legs were awake again and not merely rickety beams holding up an old rusted bridge. They wanted to move. My back wanted to move. It felt free, like it was unbound from the chains of torture. I honestly felt kind of stoned. That makes sense, as neurontin is a nerve pain drug. I felt….really damn good. I felt like I was the God-Damned Batman!

I was at work, at my desk, having a giggle fit. People thought I was crazy. The waves of pain relief that crashed through me put me in a state of near euphoric happiness. Nothing got to me today. Everything was ok. I was untouchable. I wasn’t on edge like I usually always am. I was so relieved to the point of tears. I did not realize I got used to the misery and torture I put my body through unnecessarily. I could have solved this years ago. I’m stubborn, just like my father. Hell, just like most men, especially african-american ones. “Just put some Vicks or Tussin on it!” My mother basically kept us alive with Vicks, Tussin, and Nyquil. Broken bone? Tussin. Ebola? Vicks. Coughing up blood? Nyquil. That’s how we rolled.

I walked around today, feeling like I had conquered a planet. I felt a king. I felt more hilarious (as if that’s possible!). I felt more intelligent. I felt more handsome (again, inconceivable!). My back DIDN’T hurt. My feet DIDN’T go numb. I’m anxious to get the results of these tests to see if there is anything more to be done, but I think I’m on the right track. I feel stupid for waiting and for being afraid. I won’t hold my GVTV crew back any longer. I won’t be the weak link. They won’t have to stop for me. They won’t have to leave me behind. I will be able to dance the good slow dances I owe to some special girls. I’ll be able to get my workouts on. I’m going to triumph over this obstacle just like all the others.

I DON’T NEED A BACKIOTOMY!!!