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In A P.I.M.P.'s Eye, An Autobiography

To those that believe in any dynamic of a human race, I know game when it is in my face, And I know pimping when it is put in place.Do You?

To the reader

When I first had the thought of writing a book, I felt that it would be all about my life and me. However, as I am finally penning my thoughts, I believe that I am writing about being accountable.

And if you recognize yourself or a facsimile thereof in these writings or the putting together of this book, Thank you for the material!

Sincerely, the Author

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all (men) are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among (Men), deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, - That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. - U.S. Declaration of Independence

...when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. - U.S. Declaration of Independence

Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword. For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter in law against her mother in law. - The alleged words of Jesus of Nazareth, New Testament-Mathew 10:34-36

...All this was inspired by the principle which is quite true in itself that in the big lie there is always a certain force of credibility; because the broad masses of a nation are always more easily corrupted in the deeper strata of their emotional nature than consciously or voluntarily; and thus in the primitive simplicity of their minds they more readily fall victims to the big lie than the small lie, since they themselves often tell small lies in little matters but would be ashamed to resort to large-scale falsehoods. It would never come into their heads to fabricate colossal untruths, and they would not believe that others could have the impudence to distort the truth so infamously. Adolf Hitler, 'Mein Kampf'~ Ch. 10

Introduction

For many of you that do not know me, I believe that an opinion poll of those that do, and of those that soon will, would result in the consensus that I am the bulls-eye, of a derriere. Of myself, I say that I am an experiment-gone-bad because I consider myself an American, but I am not a patriot because I am not a natural resource. I am definitely a man, (the most sinister of all that I know), but I am not a member of the boys club. Sociologically, I would be an American African, since historically ALL humankind IS from the continent now known as Africa. Contrary to politics, those born in Africa and then naturalized in the United States would sociologically be African-Americans, but I try not to gangbang anymore, or promote it, on any level. Consequently, 'In A P.I.M.P.s Eye', it would be propitious to be aware of the psychology of ownership, especially where land is concerned, remember the human race?

As I begin to write/put this book together, I am less then 2 months from having 44 years of experience in the human race. Out of the many reasons that I could give for writing/putting this book together, I believe it is because I believe I can, and because I believe, I must. Many writers write/put books together, and share that they have found God or some other divinity. Well, 'In A P.I.M.P.s Eye, ' God, (when one truly comprehends the concept of, by any name) cannot be lost, ONLY WE, as a species and as individuals can be lost. Incidentally, 'In A P.I.M.P.s Eye', religion is used as a tool of misdirection, but I do acknowledge its value, because it does provide a sense of security for those that are strangers to them selves, (victims of the H.A.L.L. syndrome). Because believing or not believing, does not make truth, nor does it, make a lie.

Long before religion, people were connected by culture and spiritual relationship. Compare if you will, the so-called American Natives cultural/spiritual practices and the Native inhabitants of any un-civilized African community, note the extreme similarities? Why is one vilified and the other "federally" protected? History will reveal that since our objective to find the "holy-grail" of life, being civilized, modernized, saved, or righteous, has been code for one world order for a male hierarchy, do you follow? (Bet you thought I was going to say just white man huh? Lol, keep reading) There have been many "groups" in power, even matriarchs, but since his-story, man has been synonymous with ruler. Within sound reasoning, how could the totality of ALL information about life be contained in ANY one book or single representation of life? To think that we can find THE answer to life, or that there is even an answer available, is syndromic.

I would like to introduce what I call the Hitler-Effect. The Hitler-Effect is the ability to transcend or influence the rationale mechanism of the brain. You see, when Hitler is most spoken of, he is noted for his madness, which most equate with him having been crazy, not so. In reality, Hitler was rather intelligent; it was the people that listened to him that were out of their damn minds. The Hitler-Effect can occur when a subject is experiencing what I call the H-A-L-L syndrome-Hungry, Afraid, Lost or Lonely, (resulting in a state of vulnerability) which can be mentally, physically or spiritually, occurring singularly or in combination to varying degree. The very dynamics that enabled me to live the life I led. However, I am a predator, not a parasite. The difference? A predator feeds on whatever it wants; a parasite feeds on whatever it can. Every living creature experiences at least one of these vulnerabilities at some point and can be accessed at that point via that vulnerability. We simply learned this from our study of life. And contrary to belief, the more intelligent an animal is, the easier it is to train it.

Why do you think our resources are controlled?

Why do you think we are taught to be afraid of life?

Why do you think that every one of our sciences, save one, is a searching field?

Why do you think social-intercourse is a commodity?

For instance, whenever I would regard a subject for turn-on, (never turn-out) I would start with simply having the subject examine the definition of the conjunctive good-bye; pointing out our social misuse of the word; creating a loss of certainty of information. With the subject accepting that simple rationale, it allowed me to further implement and monitor the subject for presence of my influence, at any chosen moment. What I offered had to be accepted by choice, and could never be forced. Any body that would follow a Hitleresque philosophy is an idiot and/or a coward. Why? Because Hitler espoused an image that he himself did not even fit! Yet, he seduced a nation to follow him, and not ONE damn individual had the sense, or the courage, to point out that he himself did not have blonde hair or blue eyes, and therefore, by his own decree, could not be of pure blood and should have been exterminated himself.

Why we as a society continue to accept a system that does not provide, as it should, according to the principle for which it was established, is beyond rationale. Hence the title of this work, 'In A P.I.M.P.'s Eye.' Especially when one considers that NOBODY has a deed or title to the world signed from God! (Atlas, or anyone else! LoL) Just as I do not have a coochie and yet, I got paid from the efforts of one! (Actually several.) THERE IS NOTHING TO EXPLAIN WHY THERE IS ANYBODY HUNGRY ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD given this planet's production. Unless the philosophy of "starve-a-ho-to-feed-a-pimp is in play, a philosophy that I never could quite comprehend. For example, when one of my ladies of three and a half years wanted to leave, due to her fear of competition. In hopes that she might return, I encouraged her to take EVERYTHING that we had accumulated considered hers, which included cash, jewelry, a credit card and a car! So when I see documentaries or movies of an ex "professional woman" returning home penitent and penniless, I laugh. It took my girl over three years of therapy after us, but the last time we spoke, her regret was not us, it was not earning a thousand dollars a day anymore. A side note, no matter what you do, do it for you. You will have less of a chance for disappointment.

As I write this, just today I heard in the news where congress voted against increasing the minimum wage! Shouldn't wage increase reflect the cost of living increase? It does at certain levels of the governmental structure. Every present system of government is merely a pyramid scheme, overt or surreptitiously, a pyramid scheme still the same. What if employee profit sharing were mandated? Especially, in a government whose mantra reads for the people. We must be careful of what we give ourselves to, because when we give ourselves to the wrong thing, it can and most oftentimes does, hurt us. I would like to make it clear that I am not out to save-the-world. I am here merely reporting how I am saving myself. I consider myself to be a sovereign, representing the true principles of the United States Constitution; principles that were never truly implemented because a segment of the people to be affected had no representation at the table. I would also like to make it clear that by many standards, even 'In A P.I.M.P.s Eye', I am not normal. However, I am perfect, perfect in the sense that all life came with a natural blueprint and does exactly what it is designed to do, unless interrupted. It is this "interruption" that I speak of saving myself from. If "freedom" is inalienable, then even a challenge to the matter of, is a violation thereof. A "professional woman" taught me that the first step to changing anything is to stop accepting it. Because when you stop accepting something, it immediately begins to change. A realization I am afraid long lost in the commercialization of life.

The average individual of any given country accepts rule by willing and/or forced compliance. Now I am not suggesting insurgency, I am merely saying that no matter what form of government is in place, wherever it is in place, it should serve whatever purposes it is intended and it should, most of all, benefit those it serves. Simply put, a "pimp" should only look as good as they ho', never better. Bad management is why over 3/4 of this nations' wealth is owned by less than 5 percent of this nations' population. Bad management is why one of the most natural resource rich countries in the world, has a 90 percent population literally dirt poor. Recent data indicates that only one tenth of 1-percent of this country's population are millionaires, and 40 percent of the world's population lives on less than 2 dollars a day! As "bargain basement" as Hitler's philosophy may have been, to my understanding, the country and its people fared rather well during his reign. If you really want someone to participate in something, involve them. If you are going to "run" the house, you MUST take care of the house and everything in it.

So, what is P.I.M.P? It is an acronym for; Personal Investment Management Professional I endeavor to benefit the most from the gift of my life. Self is my belief; And wisdom is my religion. If there be any thing in these writings to find of any value, I would ask that it be those words, as my gift to all, acquaintance, reader or critique. 'In A P.I.M.P.s Eye', these writings could be interpreted as a cry-out for help, or a call-to-arms. If you are reading this, you have either already bought the book, thinking about it, or at least, talking about this book. Either way, you are on the right path to helping me, and I thank you even for that consideration! As for a call-to-arms, I can't, be your super man, super woman or super being, nor do I need one. I had a pimp once in my life and I left him because he would not give me fifty funky dollars so I could by a car.

Read the story!

In The Beginning

I was born in 1962, seventh or eighth in a rumored clan of eighteen. My earliest recollection is of my mother and some other woman trying to get me into the back seat of a car. I remember my mother finally getting in on one side, and as I followed, she got out on the other side. As I was only around 2 .5 years experienced in the human race, I knew nothing of locks. I remember my mother slowly disappearing, as my eyes seemed to be screaming out the rear window of the car speeding away with me. I remember screaming so hard that the sound seemed to disappear too. For some reason, I seem to remember knowing that I was not going to get out of that car, my mother was gone, crying was senseless, and the man driving with the woman in the front seat, were all I had... My mother was at-risk before at-risk became a buzzword for the politically correct of our millennium. She was supposedly the result of a union between a Cherokee Indian concubine, Christian name Lewis, and a West Indian factory worker, Christian name Johnson. Family legend has it that when Mrs. Johnson, herself a Native West Indian, and still practicing in the cultural mores of pre-colonial doctrine, learning of her husbands unfaithfulness, cast a spell on him and he was mysteriously crushed to death at his jobsite. My grandmother, pregnant, was locked in a shed and died there during a premature birth. My mother was born with what was known at that time to be the rickets; more commonly referred to today as scurvy and tells how she was so fragile that she had to be carried around on a feather pillow. A bone deficiency trait I believe to be inheritable, as I suffer, even as I write this, from what I was told to be spinalythiasis, an arthritic condition causing my spine to curve. I also have an injury to my spine compliments of the Chicago police department, yeah, yeah, read the story.

Consequently, my mother was given to the Johnson family to rear. Perhaps that is why my mother speaks of getting the Cinderella treatment from the Johnson family, where is a hero when you really need one... My supposed father (whom only pretended to be whenever we happened to be in the same bar and some female was commenting on my looks) was supposedly the result of a union between a burple (so black she looked purple) West Indian woman and a fine-haired, pale-skinned Frenchman by the sir name of Baptiste. I imagine that growing up for dad was a measure because he had good hair, but not the look. He had apparently taken the complexion of his mother. Family rumor has it that he disowned me due to the look. Obviously he was ignorant of atavism. When I was growing up, one of the names that the children were rather fond of calling me was Chief, Chief High-Waters. This was due to the reddish-tint of my skin, the texture of my hair and the fact that my pant-leg usually barely reached my ankles. My eldest sister would say that my sometimes-dysfunctional behavior and anger is a result of having been raised by my auntie-mama and being picked on as a child. Of course, as an Entologist, I know this to have some ring of truth. Overall, I believe that my auntie-mama could not have done a better job, and as for being "picked on, " wah. Because I can honestly say, that I like myself. I do not always show myself love, but I do like myself. I will admit that auntie-mama was a very bitter woman, but she taught me to be independent, very resourceful, and consequently, to have an admiring respect for the female and what she represents.

I understand now that men had left such a bad taste in her mouth that not even mouthwash could cleanse. I do not ever remember her actually hugging me. In fact, the closest I remember her seeming to care about anything other than money, was when she asked me if I was ever going to call her mama. Other than that, she was not an affectionate woman, and like most women scorned, got along better with other women. I'm sure her bitterness had something to do with her having been molested at a very, very early age (family rumor was that the local preacher had gotten her pregnant before she was even 13! In fact, rumor was that he was rather nice to all the Johnson girls because they were all very pretty) But since this is an autobiography Growing up, weekends were always busy at my house. There would always be a group of men and my auntie-mama sitting around just drinking. Often, her sidekick, my Godmother would be there also. Sometimes, since all of the men worked at the steel mill and made good money. My other aunts, from out of town (and a cousin, who the family, because of a family secret, gave her auntie status) would be visiting, and then there would be real wild nights. On those nights I went over to my Godmothers house to play with her children, I believe she had as many as my real mother. I was quite the little pervert! (And still am!) Sex was everywhere around me on a regular basis. Since my bedroom was adjoining the bathroom, I made holes in the walls so I could peek from either room. Talk about Sex education!! I was only eight years experienced in the human race when I first put my head between a woman's legs. To this day, I can still remember the intoxicating headiness that seemed to swell my head. There is NOTHING, NOTHING like the aroma of a woman!

I was 10 when a friend's 18-year-old sister, under the auspices of physics, attempted to advance my education. She told me that she had a boyfriend her age and wanted to prepare herself for him. Since she was a virgin, she figured the smaller the object, the less the pain. Ironically, girls my age did not like me. For a living my auntie-mama cleaned houses. Actually, she only worked for these two sisters, unless one of them recommended another family, and then that would not be permanent. Summers I would often go to their houses to play or swim in their pools (they had standard in-ground pools during the 1960s!) Every Christmas each family would have a ten-foot live Christmas tree in their respective living rooms! Hell yeah, auntie-mama was getting down like that! We had a 19 color TV in our living room and I had a black-and-white TV in my bedroom! Auntie-mama had at least 4 real furs, two full closets of clothes and she bought a brand new Buick LaSabre in 1969! Now, everything that I got, except underwear, was second hand, unless I stole it. I remember joining the little league baseball team and was going to play the position of back catcher. We had gone to the local Walgreen's, I thought to get a back catchers mitt, but a fifth of Canadian Club was cheaper, so we got that. Of course, I ultimately got the catchers mitt. You see, auntie-mama had unwittingly taught me what shoplifting was one day when we were at the St. Vincent DePaul. She had me stuff a set of white chiffon curtains in my pants while she put a pair of hush puppies in her purse for me. Stealing became a way for me to get whatever I wanted. Little did I know, it was my first experience with addiction...

At the age of seven I caught a bus from Racine to Chicago by myself, I had run away to look for my mother. I do not really remember much other than stealing food, hiding and wandering around downtown Chicago. When auntie-mama and I had visited Chicago the last time, I had met my eldest brother because he had begun living with our cousin, (the one with auntie status). While I was there he had told me that he knew where our mama was and could take me to her since I wanted to go. As I had not remembered where he lived, I was ultimately found and taken back to Racine, yeah; I was a kid on a milk carton. When I got back I was sent to a psychiatrist to find out how I possibly survived on the streets of Chicago for nearly three months by myself.

You know, in my 44 years, the craziest people I have ever met were psychiatrists! I once had a psychologist; yes I know the difference, anyway, a psychologist refused to talk to me because he stated that my thinking was not normal. It took me to point out to him that if my thinking was not normal, he was duty bound to talk to me, being a psychologist. About a year after I was "rescued, " I was caught stealing a candy bar and put on probation. My probation officer, like most people, being amazed with my intelligence, took a personal liking to me. He became my Big Brother and would come and take me to different places or just to his house to be with his family. He was a very sincere person and had really cared about me. I saw him after I had become street poisoned, I was around 16 or 17, and the look in his eyes told me he wondered if whether or not he had made the right decision... It was December 1974, I had violated my probation by being out of state, and auntie-mama said she had enough... I was nearly 12 and I had tried to run-away again, the third time. The second time, when I was around eight or so, I had an address and had actually found my brother. I had hung out in my cousin's basement for nearly a week though before I finally saw him. Had I not had to wait for him to wait until the weekend for us to go to meet my mother... When I was nearly 13, auntie-mama and I took a train to Chicago, which was strange because we usually drove, but we were on our way to Chicago! She bought one round-trip adult ticket, and one one-way child ticket. She gave me the return portion of the adult ticket and told me to put it in my wallet and keep it for her. After we got to Chicago, she gave me the news; I was going to meet my mother, finally, after ten long years!! After about a week or so of visiting, my mother asked me when was I going back home to Racine? I told her that I was waiting for my auntie-mama to come and get me. When my mother told me that my auntie-mama had already gone back to Racine and had called to say that my probation officer had issued a violation of probation warrant against me, I was stunned. Apparently, my auntie-mama had said that she had given me instructions to return with the adult ticket that I had in my wallet! I was about to be locked up! My probation officer had the final decision though, and he let me return, back to Chicago, back to my family, back to...

To say that my auntie-mama and I did not get along would not even begin to define our relationship. For the most part I just stayed out of her way. Not that she was mean; she just gave me the feeling that I should be a burden as little as possible. I would often take money from my auntie-mamas' purse or wherever else I could find her money. I did not consider it stealing because she would always take every damn penny I got. She would have me playing bar-back every weekend and take all the tips that I made. When we would be hanging out in bars, she always kept an eye out for anyone giving me money and shook me down as soon as we got home. She would ransack my room after I went to sleep for whatever I may have stashed. She would claim that every penny was needed to take care of me. After I learned that the welfare food and the monthly state stipend we got were due to me, St.Vincent de Paul and her reasoning, I knew to be just greediness. Although this is an autobiography, there are some things that I dare not reveal. I'll just say that the education that I got from her was priceless; she was a sinister person. She thought every bit like a man! As a child, when I was told about Santa Claus, I started trying to figure out how in the hell he got into our apartment because we did not have a chimney. I began school at the age of 3; (as I write, I just realized that auntie-mama put my age up a year so I could start school early, because it wasn't until 1977 that I learned that I was born in 1962 and not 1961. Damn, I'm learning shit about my damn self in this book!).

Anyway, I was enrolled in a program entitled the Follow-Thru Program. This was during the Roe v Wade era and integration was the buzzword. The genius of the Follow-Thru Program was that underprivileged children would be bussed to different schools excelling in their respective curriculum. Well, I was considered exceptional, especially for a Negro, and was usually in a study group of one, so in third grade I was put in an all white fourth grade classroom. I would report to our home school, go to my homeroom, and then I would go to the fourth grade class with all the white children. I became the class mascot, an attraction for all the white children. We would play games like hit-George-in-the-chest, can-George-do-this, can-George-do-that, and the all time favorite, see-how-smart-our-nigger-is. Consequently, I won most of the games we played, which only added to my mystique. My teacher, I believe, knowing that I was being guinea-pigged, took an extra liking to me, that, and the fact that our birthdays were a day apart, March 7 and March 8. For about 3 years, she came and got me on our birthdays and took me to this fancy Italian restaurant where we would have pizza and soda, (she had beer). She did this even after I was no longer eligible to attend that school. Ultimately, I did a half-year third grade and a half-year fourth, and went to fifth at my respective neighborhood school. I would have stayed at the all white school and went to the sixth-grade; however, auntie-mama thought they might be moving me too fast. Back at my neighborhood school, I was an outcast because intelligence was something frowned upon. More on that subject later...

On the last day of sixth grade, the class activity was let's kick-Georges'-ass. I knew, and went to school with my little Cub Scout knife. Fortunately, my auntie-mamas man, (not the one that had kidnapped me as a little boy) met me at school. No, I was not a popular kid in school; I was considered a bum and a nerd. I remember being in class one time and another male student and I were talking about the girls. I told him that I liked this one real pretty, popular girl, and he told her! (I would LOVE to print her name because she is a fat ass now with lots of kids!) Well, she got her posse and after school they chased me! I had to seek refuge in the Piggly Wiggly across the street from my house; those heifers were that damn close to catching me! Here is one for you, the same dude that I am speaking of, chased me home every fucking day for damn near a whole summer because I slapped the shit out of him in the classroom (I was tuff if I could hit you and someone was there to stop the fight before you could get a chance to hit me back). Anyway, this son-of-a-bitch, chased me until he caught me. He jumped up and snatched me down from a fence I was trying to escape over. Well, fast-forward, I am in my late 20s, early 30s, in Chicago, on the el train, and who in the hell do I see sitting down a few seats from me, dude from six grade!! Check this out, and I do not mean anything discriminatory by this, but dude was queerer than a six-dollar bill!! I mean flaming gay! We recognized each other immediately though, and all I could think about was, this motherfucker used to chase me home from school, (get-away-George was another one of my monikers. But I still say that my auntie-mama could not have done a better job of raising me because I turned out to be a real human being, for a man. Which I believe to be an amazing feat, especially when one considers my upbringing in our culture.

Since I had been given to my great-aunt at the age of two, I knew that she wasn't my mother, and had always felt a sense of being lost. December 1974, I returned home to my mother and the siblings I never knew, at the age of twelve-and-a-half. I had not seen my mother in ten years. Our long awaited reunion lasted all of six months... The dynamic of life demands that only the strong survive. A principle I rationalized as a child and increased my threshold for pain by practicing torture therapy. I would even simulate being smothered with a pillow. Chicago, I had gotten a paper route when I had first returned to Chicago because things were not what I had anticipated. On my first day on the route, the neighborhood welcoming committee accosted me. They didn't hurt me, it was just that I was a "new" face in the neighborhood and they had to let me know that I was in their territory. Ironically, the selfsame committee ultimately educated me on how to survive on my own in my new surroundings. I believe Roosevelt Franklin once said, "There is nothing to fear, but fear itself." From the age of ten to eleven, I had trained religiously in Tai Kwon Do for free at a neighborhood children's' center in Wisconsin. However, I was afraid of actually being engaged in a real physical confrontation. The streets of Chicago soon cured me of that though, very soon.

I have a brother 3 years my junior so we pretty much hung out. As he was already experienced in the streets, with my "ehgucashun" and "kulcher", we soon became a duo. I introduced him to structure and thinking as compared to thought. While he introduced me to what I am going to call, 'the Cain virus.' 'The Cain virus, ' best described, is "having the fear of to rationalize conflict with;" not to be confused with having fear. If you will, fear is arguably the single most driving emotion of the life conscious, if not life itself. In the 'Cain and Abel' story, Cain displayed a fear of his offering not being as welcomed as Abel's; a fear of God's retribution as well as a fear of social retribution. Having fear is like, the time my mother sent my brother and I to the store. On our way, we met one of the members of the neighborhood "welcoming committee, " and had it not been for my younger brother... In preparation for the possibility of an encounter with the neighborhood welcoming committee, prior to leaving for the store, I had put a chair leg w/metal corner in my pocket. As it was raining, I had on a London Fog raincoat, not your typical 1970's Chicago in the hood look. As dynamic would have it; Dude, that did not like me, stops us and asks me if whether or not I was the dude that he did not like. I'm not yet 13, and dude looked to be about 17 or so. So I'm standing there, with my hand on the chair leg in my pocket, and dude is standing there with a Moses sized staff! I tell him that I don't know who he likes or dislikes, all the while wondering why in the hell does he have such a big damn stick. My brother saved me by knowing whose name to say. It turned out, that our eldest brother, whom was 16 at the time, was messing around with our landlord's daughter. Whose brother, happened to be the leader of the little welcoming committee!! That's how I came became accepted within the circle. And when my "buddy, " former terrorist, learned that he and I had the same last name, we became "cousins." Anyway, that was having fear, because I walked to the store with my brother in spite of the fear of harm. Having fear of, I would not have even gone to the store. As I became "street poisoned, " but obviously lacking street experience, I also became a target for parasites.

Another example of having fear, is one time when my mother had sent my brother and I to the store. While waiting outside, because I was barred from the store for just walking out with whatever I wanted in my hand, ( I had stopped stealing.lol) Anyway, while standing outside waiting for my brother, a man about in his 20's, approached me and asked me if whether or not I wanted to make some money helping him move some boxes. We were on 43rd, and he said we had to just walk up the street. Although it was around nine at night, I needed money so I didn't immediately think anything suspicious. However, as we walked, instinct had me on guard because I walked a pace away. When we neared 47th, he tried to pull me into an enclave and to this day, I shudder to think why. In retrospect, I recall us walking and talking and him specifically asking me if whether or not I knew anything about "bi-sex." My ignorant little ass thought he had said "bicycles" and remembering rambling on about how fast my brother and I could dismantle one. I also remember the look in his eyes at my seeming vulnerability. I got away, but the same name that had saved me that night from "Moses, " happened to be friends with the parasite that had almost got me while I was waiting for my brother outside the store. It appeared that parasite lived across the street from the store, which is how he had spotted me. After that, I stopped hanging with that crowd. Besides, they had proven themselves to be bitches prior to the gay scare. At least seven of us robbed a woman and we had a gun!

A very good example of having fear is when I was in the Cook County Jail in Chicago at the age of 18. We, the inmates, were "gang-banging, " (stupidly fighting each other) and the guards had to come in to secure the unit. In that type of situation, usually six guards come inside, while one guard stands safely outside in the event the first six get their asses whooped. Well, there were these two guards that worked there whom were brothers. One was a martial arts expert and the other one was the size of a fucking bear, REALLY!! Anyway, in the event of a riot on the deck, these two motherfuckers would come in by their damn selves!! Oh yeah, they were that vicious together. Anyway, the one the size of a bear, (one of his hands made two hands of the average person!) had a habit of looking for tattoos on inmates. When he would see it he would ask, "What the fuck does that mean, " talking about the tattoo. I must have seen this man send SEVERAL inmates to Cermak hospital after asking them that question. Well, 'the bear' caught me. I have never felt more bitched in my life! Even to this day! I had just gotten a tat on my chest so it was rather visible. Dude, I damn near shitted and pissed on myself as this "bear" stood bellowing over me asking, "What the fuck does that mean?" As I shook, and I do not mean trembled, I mean shook, all I could think of was that this motherfucker was about to knock my damn head off!! Me, not knowing what to do other than the obvious, stammering and stuttering, stated the obvious. To my shock, "the bear" simply ordered me to get into my "house, " (my cell)! Now THAT was having fear!! I will share the moral of this later...

But the dynamic relativity of this is that this fear of has driven us as a species to attempt to become greater than our idea(s) of a God. Because of our influenced association with life, the notion of eternity, in a controlled since, is marketed. When one truly grasps the concept of life, one will comprehend that life in and of itself, is eternal. Time is a relative concept, restricted to the dynamics of a controlled environment. In plain English, if there is an answer to life, it will cost you. Because man and I mean the member of the human group with a penis, has claimed himself heir to the throne of life. Simply put, man is gorilla pimpin', fuck what you heard, act like you know!

Chicago...

After the paper route incident, with my brother as my ghetto guide, became a world I setout to conquer. As I said, within a year of my return, I was street poisoned, in the streets most of the time drunk. This was also due to all of my mother's estranged childrenreturning home, (the two older girls had been with a different cousin for a time); from time to time my mother took in strays, (I supposedly have three children by one of them, first child born when I was only 13, she was 18); the preexisting dynamics of therelationship between my mother and I , our personalities just clashed; and finally because the family, had moved from where we lived during one of the periods I was not allowed in the house. When they had moved, it took me at least a month or more before I found out where they had moved. Ironically, the family says the two of us, my mother and I, do not get along because we are too much alike, especially in our meanness. In fact, the first time that I actually got locked up was due to a "difference" between my mother and I. It was Christmas Eve 1975, only a year after my return home; my mother's boyfriend at the time, whom happened to be a police, had come over. We called him "The Lunchmeat King", because he would always by us lunchmeat and bread when we had no food, which was most of the time.

Anyway, he had come over and as usual, we had no food, and as usual, my mother did not want him to buy us any. Why? I don't know! Not to make excuses for her, but as I understand it, her childhood wasn't all that great. In addition to inheriting the "Johnson sexual drive and mystique, " she inherited the Johnson greed. Had she inherited the Johnson love, she may have known how to love in return. In fact, I am quite sure that if she would admit it, the only time that she has ever felt wanted was when the man whom became her legal husband, her "hero", asked her to marry him. He was a hero because to my understanding, the Department of Children and Family Services were about to take her remaining children from her. This would have been during the time that I was growing up with auntie-mama. Or maybe it was because of me, seeing as I was the one whom usually asked for food.

Anyway, since she would not allow him to give us any money that night, sometimes she would, he decided to go to the store himself. Now, she supposedly has two children by him, I say supposedly because I did not assist in their activities; one was born in 1974 and the other in 1975. Now, knowing that he was going to the store, she took both of his children by their feet, standing in the doorway of the room, and slung them on my sister's bed, with one of them bouncing to the floor. When he returned with the lunchmeat and bread, as I was telling him to get his children because my mother had thrown them. She came running out into the hallway with a caste iron bookend, grabbing me in the collar. And for some reason, this time, I did not resist, in spite of having learned of her dangerousness, which was a big mistake. Mother, cold cocked me directly under my left eye with that caste iron bookend!

Boooooooiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnngggggggggg!!!!!

As I write this, Entologically, I wonder if my response to her attack was solely due to the fact that just like in cartoons, I saw stars! Or, was it due to some penned up anger stemming from the overall dynamics of our relationship.

Whatever it was, I shamefully report that when everything stopped spinning, my mother's face was a bloody mess.

As I sat in the juvenile home, all I could think about was that now, I had really lost my mother, because I had become another one of the many men that had beaten her over the years.

Although the courts had released me, it took my mother nearly four months to come and get me, and I understood. Anyway, after that, I believe out of shame, I stayed away more and more, coming "home" maybe once a week and ultimately less and less. The second time I got locked up was because, unknowingly, I broke into a preacher's house and stole an electric can opener. I had a paper route and while on the route, my stupid ass broke into this man's house and stole a fucking electric can opener! He, the preacher, actually came and talked to me because nothing else had been touched in his house; which he couldn't quite understand, especially since there had been nearly 300 dollars under his mattress. The irony, I stole the can opener to give to my mama for a bribe, so I could stay for the night and so we could use more of the money I made from the paper route for food.

Prior to returning to Chicago I was in accelerated eighth grade classes in school. I can honestly report first hand, that the curriculum was at least ten years outdated in the neighborhood school that I was forced to attend upon returning to Chicago. For instance, although it was an "eighth" grade class, the highest level of academia was probably fifth grade, and that was even outdated comparable to its suburban counterpart. Anyway, as with my momentous return to the nest, I was disappointed and became disenchanted with school. Also, continuing the status of school leper wasn't too appealing. Although I did receive a diploma, by mail, I am mentioned nowhere in the school yearbook, nor graduation ceremonies. But then, I would not have been able to attend anyway because I had been rushed to the hospital during that time threatening an appendix rupture. I had complained to my mother for nearly two days about pain. Her solution was to shove some soap up my ass. A remedy she quipped as I clung to the baseboard of her doorway, interrupting her "ministering" the man she had brought home over the weekend. Some things never change.

That Monday morning my eldest sister had to convince my mother to give my god brother the medical card so he could take me to the clinic. When the examining clinician became excited and kept repeating, "Why you no die, why you no die?" An even deeper pain, the pain of feeling unwanted, gripped me and would not let go... some things never change, well I had to. After surviving the too numerous parasites and dangers of the city streets, at 15, though I thought I was 16, I went to Atterbury Job Corps Center in Edinburgh, Indiana.

After being there for less than six months, we, the Job Corps members, took the center over. Part of the genius of the Job Corps program, in addition to addressing the disparity in our educational system, was to utilize abandoned army bases as Job Corps sites.

Which really was a great budgetary decision, only the penny-pinching got rather ridiculous. Instead of refurbishing the bases, at least the one I attended, all was done was a clean up. Now this was an army base that had not been used since WWII! Hell, the entire time I was stationed there, a window by my bunk stayed broken! To make matters worse, the center director was stealing funds; we learned this from our mutiny; the cafeteria was infested with rodents; as well as the dorms and commissary; hell, the damn officers quarters were still standing! (Which we used as motels) But the thing that did it was the security staff assaulting us. Whenever it was felt necessary they would beat us and put us in the brig! Yeah, that's right, an actual military brig! I am not exactly sure how the mutiny began, but I do remember why.

There were these twin sisters that got into fight with two other girls. As security was arriving, all but one of the twins ran. A fight developed between two male security guards and an under age female. These fuckers split her ear so bad it was hanging!! We fucking snapped!! I must add that the twins were personal friends of mine, so yeah, it was personal. Anyway, after nearly two weeks of mutiny, we got to meet with a Department of Labor officer from Chicago.

Time out from the story, this is really personal, Dude, I am going to respect your privacy as I have everyone else mentioned here. However, I have a burning question for you, Are you the same B.W. I met nearly ten years later in Wisconsin?

Readers, yeah, read the story!

Anyway, the DOL officer, in agreement with our plight, created a committee of eight, of which I was a member. Our duty would be to report directly to him as to what was going on at the center. For our efforts we got a brand new cafeteria built, ALL of the necessary repairs completed, the jail closed and the security staff penalized for assaulting minors. Needless to say, but I was forced to terminate my contract due to violating the no fraternizing rule, yeah, I had a girlfriend. I am going to share this only for insight and because it is touching. Although I had not been in Job Corps that long, I already had a girlfriend and she was in my age bracket!! I could barely believe it, but when I got to Job Corps, I became a hottie! Since my hair grows crazy, I would wear a hair net in order to give it a semi-Afro look. Anyway, it was a look that appeared to be working because girls were going just ape shit over me.

This is significant because in truth, men do not choose women, women choose men.

Well, like I said, I was messing around with this one girl and one day a friend of hers kissed me. No, I did not resist the kiss, and not just because I am a man. But because I was stunned! Hey, girls had never shown me any attention! Women had always paid me attention, but not girls. So hell yes, I was like a little puppy, eager for attention.

I want to also take the time to apologize to a certain female that wanted to be with me when we first got to Job Corps. I would not be with her because she was a little too much woman for my liking. I know that sounds mean, but it is the truth. I have seen some very pretty buxom women, but the only time I have found one sexually attractive was for five hundred dollars a week! Anyway, I apologize girl, nothing personal; I wish we could have remained friends. And if you are still gay, don't be still lying saying that I am the reason.

And to Ms. Job Corps romance, if all you wanted was Sex, why in the hell did you leave me waiting at the Chicago Greyhound Bus station not once, not twice, but three times!!!

Like I said, I had voluntarily terminated myself from Job Corps. My thinking was that when I got back home to Chicago, I would go to the DOL officers' office and get his help to get back to Job Corps, and back to her. Well, he either wasn't there, or I got spun, either way, that became just another chapter in my life. I terminated in September, and when I learned of her being at home in October. I was so sprung that I caught a Greyhound bus to East St. Louis, where she was. After her two-week pass was over, she went back to Job Corps and I went back to my life. Yeah readers, girlfriend left me sitting at the bus station waiting for her to come to Chicago over the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays, even after I had taken a bus to her to East St. Louis!

After returning from Job Corps, wounding a broken heart, I found myself once again for the most part, homeless. My mother lived on 53rd and Calumet and three of my sisters lived together on 55th and Prairie, approximately five blocks apart. My relationship between my mother and I was what it was, and my sisters were so damn goofy! Let me tell you, to get away from our mama, they got an apartment together because neither of them could afford to live alone on welfare. These heifers literally divided areas of the apartment into three sections!! They would not cook dinners together, they divided the refrigerator, the cupboards, and they shopped separately for everything! They would even constantly buy quarts of milk instead of gallons! When it came to my younger brother and I eating, we got scraps! And to think that when we were all living with our mother, my younger brother and I would steal to feed them wenches! Anyway, I would often sleep in the hallways around the neighborhood if I could not find a bed for the night. This is how I initially met the family.

Before I became acquainted with the element on 55th St. in Chicago, I was pretty much just a petty crook. I ran around with this group that was primarily into theft from and theft of vehicles to robbery. I had met one of the crew because his family lived in the same building that my mother lived in. I was accepted because I was the most daring. However, I did not know how to drive which was used to justify not giving me equal share of the bounty. When I learned that I never got equal share, no matter what we did, I moved on. I started hanging out with this kid around my age that lived down the street from my mother because I had become infatuated with his mother. She saw this as an opportunity to have me selling pot for her. When she would not pay me for my services I conveniently got robbed. Since selling pot was the closest I had ever come to an honest living, I tried to sell for this older guy in the neighborhood; however, he was bi-sexual and was really more interested in me, personally.

Since this is an autobiography, I will tell, lol. There was a group of older men in the neighborhood that had a liking for young boys. The ringleader, the one that I was trying to sell pot for, was married, but he also had a young boy living with them that he took very good care of. I ultimately agreed to let the group give me head and although I made $150, I did not get an erection, so I knew that homosexuality was not for me. No, homosexuality was not for me, but I would often put myself in homosexual situations for the money, until I almost got assaulted.

It was when I was around 18 and I had gone to this guy's apartment to make some money, only he, just as I, was on bullshit. As I desperately tried to unlock his apartment door, he calmly informed me that he had done this several times and if I wanted to scream, go ahead, because no one would care, and I wasn't going to get out. As he was admonishing me about playing with people's feelings, as he went into a closet to get whatever, I jumped from his second-story window to escape. That was the end of my playing homosexual games.

In the fall of 1977, I met one of the elders in the neighborhood around 55th that lived across the street from where my sisters lived. Because I slept in hallways a lot, I was always outside, which is how I met the elder. . In actuality, had he not taken me under his wing, my life may not be what it is today. Believe it or not, he himself had actually worked for the infamous Al Capone, so he was serious about giving a young hustler an opportunity to prove himself. I first started running errands for him to make money; which was my introduction to the family. After he took ill and was placed in a hospital, he instructed his daughter to move me into his room because I had no place to really live. He passed away shortly after.

His daughter allowed me to continue living in his room out of respect for her father's liking to me, besides, I was very good housekeeper in addition to my brazenness. One day while just hanging out, her man, also a hustler, and some of the other up and coming came in for a break. One of them, seeing us "young-ins, " dared one of us to step up and gladiate. Of course, I stepped up, but after one blow, I slithered to the floor, however, my courage was not ignored. I was later offered to work for him, to which I declined, stating that I would rather work for the daughter's man under the auspices that he and I were born under the same astrological sign. Unbeknownst to me, the one that I refused to work for simply gave his product to the one that I agreed to work for, bad move. Well, the product began to come up missing and wouldn't you know it, I was the one blamed for the disappearance. When "court" time came, I was allowed the option of running or accepting a violation. Well, having no place for me to really go, I accepted the violation, but not before I went to the carnival and had $500 worth of carnival fun.

Since it had already been determined that I was guilty, I was tied to a chair with wire found on bundles of newspaper, blindfolded and beaten, even with a plastic bat across head, I was bald at the time. As I started receiving the violation, I began hollering, which halted the violation. The one that I had refused to work for, leaning to talk directly in my ear, asked me why in the hell was I hollering, since I had chosen to accept the violation, I should just take it. From that point, I did not so much as make a whimper, which only infuriated the one that had set me up, causing him to get brutal. Taking all I could stand, I broke free of the wire, snatched the blindfold off and stood up. Scaring the one that had set me up, he pulled out his pistol and pointed it to my head. After firing a shot between my legs to prove that he would fire, he aimed right between my eyes and tried to get me to fess up. Fearing that this was it, I stood my ground and simply closed my eyes. After what seemed forever, not having heard a shot I opened my eyes to find him fighting with the weapon, it had jammed. Unable to un-jam it, he told me to get my shit and get the fuck out.

Coming from the third floor, as I gripped the handle of the vestibule door, an all too familiar sound announced that it had not been my time to die.

I later learned that his real motivation for setting me up was because he was jealous of the relationship that I had with the daughter; he thought we were having a sexual relationship. We ultimately did, but that did not come until later.

Losing my room is how I came to start hanging out around where my mother lived. She had a friend that lived in the same building and would let me stay at her house so that is how I met the homosexuals. I would get pot from the homosexual and go and smoke it with the daughter of the elder that had taken me under his wing before he passed away. By that time, the daughter was no longer with the dude that had set me up and was now with the one that had wanted me to work for him in the first place. She had lost the apartment that we had lived in and was at that time living with her mother. Which is where our first sexual encounter occurred...

I had come over to smoke pot with her and she was still in her nightgown, being alone, I did not resist when she pushed my head between her legs. One day while over there, her now current man wanted her to bring him something to the motel he was in. Informing him that she could not leave, after finding out that I was there, he asked her if she thought that I could be trusted to bring what he wanted, she said yes and gave me my instructions. I had no ill resentment towards him for the violation because he was duped just as I was so I complied with my instructions. After taking him what he wanted, he asked what was I doing, saying nothing, he asked if I wanted to hang out with him; I "hung out" for four years, he had finally gotten what he wanted.

to be continued....

By Entologist - To Have As I Believe To Believe As I Have...  

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