Indifferent, Incendiary and Ire: The Making Of A New America

Like most Americans and humans around the globe, I was profoundly saddened by the senseless, savage beating of 16 year old Derrion Albert of Chicago on last week. The news brought an instant ache to my heart and tear to my eye. Days later a devastating typhoon ravaged the Philippines, leaving death and destruction in its wake. Unemployment continues to soar, homes are still being lost to the foreclosures, uncertainty and fear of the unknown inhabits the hearts and minds of people daily. A poor economy, war and threat of terrorism are not new in America. This is not the first time that this nation has faced multiple issues. Yet, this time it’s different. This time we have a scapegoat. This time the finger of blame is poking the eyes of our 44th President in an effort to knock him off stride and sabotage his plans. But is President Obama to blame? Should those fingers of blame not only poke the eyes of former leaders but also current political court jesters whose sole purpose for rising in the morning is to create a political atmosphere so hostile that it causes the ultimate demise of 44? The Republican Party, Conservatives in particular, are acting like uneducated, spoiled brats that only want to be the “banker” in the monopoly game of politics. A lesser role does not meet their agenda of being able to keep the rich wealthy and the poor unhealthy. Their many manipulations, interferences and oppositions have only resulted in futile attempts to derail 44’s favorability rating. Although he has slipped in the polls, President Obama still remains favorable in the eyes of Americans. The unwillingness of those on the right to work with the administration in a true spirit of bipartisanship has caused some to resort to lies, slander, treason, unethical behaviors, manipulation and the very powerful politics of fear to rally the troops against 44. Let me break this all down for you from the perspective of a normal, average citizen concerned about the derangement that is causing this nation to no longer be united, brave or free but rather indifferent, incendiary and full of ire.

Indifference. Unemployment and health care costs are making life miserable for countless Americans. The poor and sick are being cast aside as worthless and useless, left to fend for themselves in a defenseless state. Health Care Reform would significantly contribute to the stabilization of the economy and job market. But how do the court jesters (right-wingers) respond? They fight against it. “No Government Interference!” they shout. “We won’t support any federal program that will help the indigent. Let them take care of themselves or just, well…die! In the movie, “The Ten Commandments” starring Charlton Heston, Hebrew slaves were toiling from sunrise to sunset with little to eat. The character of Moses opened up the temple grain storehouses in order to feed the people. When questioned about this by the Pharaoh, Moses replied: “the strong make many, the starving make few, the dead make none.” Moses justified raiding the temple grain to feed the slaves in order for them to have strength to build the city. I said that to say this: the unemployed need jobs, the hungry need food, the uninsured need care, and the poor need help. Yet, through their actions those on the right says, “we’re going to oppose 44 whether we agree or disagree with his policies, whether he’s right or wrong, whether he succeeds or fails. In fact, we’ll rejoice in his failures, gloat in his shortcomings and emphasize his defeats. That makes for a good patriot! We don’t care, we’re the party of NO and we proudly wear that badge. Now take that stupid dems and independents!

Incendiary: While young people are being violently killed across the country, poverty rising, homelessness increasing, diseases raging, and more students being “left behind” than ever, the court jesters continue to rally their troops against 44 in wild, hostile, unpatriotic, “constitutionally-protected?” protests around the nation. Tea parties, protests and town halls have become forums for Obama hate fests and the spewing of hate rhetoric. Protesters are yelling and carrying signs depicting 44 as the joker, Hitler, Stalin, monkeys, and other signs of disrespect. They’re angry, claiming to protest against higher taxes, health care reform, and other “administration” issues. However, posters, signs, t-shirts, and buttons suggest that these individuals are afraid of losing their beloved America to minorities, people who are Americans too! Threats against the President’s life and weapons are not unheard of at these gatherings. Thanks to the incendiary rantings of nut jobs like Beck, Limbaugh, Coulter, Palin, Hannity, and O’Reilly, the minds of many have crossed over into the valley of derangement and don’t even realize that they need health care reform for mental health treatment and meds. Nuff said.

Ire: Americans are mad! Don’t believe me? Just watch a protest. Listen to commentators. Read blogs. What is everyone so doggone mad about? Huh? 44 is less than 9 months into his young presidency and already some are calling for his impeachment and his head. This country was in dire straits before Obama took the oath of office. These same issues persisted before he moved into the White House. The difference now is that he’s being held to a higher standard under the microscope. All eyes are on the black guy. His failure would send a distorted message to America that this country was never meant to be headed by minorities. Why did we give that African American a chance? He’s failed us in 8 months! Toss him out on his hind parts! We’re mad and not going to take this anymore! Let’s stir up dissension and incite riots by letting conservative talking heads fill our empty brains with biased, heated rhetoric that can easily cause us to commit dastardly acts of treason, violence or worse. We even intend to change the bible to become more “conservative-friendly” and remove any “liberal” references. Word of caution conservatives: “Add thou not unto his words, lest he reprove thee, and thou be found a liar.” Proverbs 30:6. Got it guys? America as we know it, is no more.

Afterthoughts Signing Off…

S. Denice Newton
www.sandradnewton.com

B.E.F.Y., Birthing A Movement

It’s Your Life, Get B.E.F.Y With It!
(Black, Educated, Focused, Young)

It all began with an afterthought. I was sitting comfortably on the couch, drowning the day’s frustrations in a bowl of strawberry ice-cream and trying to absorb the barrage of negative messages and images pouring in on the news. An avid news watcher, I began to channel surf and found that each newscast that I watched had a similar theme: black youths involved in a criminal act or some other negative situation. This disheartening discovery instantly put me in a “thinking mode.” I thought about the numerous students that I have worked with over the last 10 years who have done well academically and avoided the destructive lifestyles that the media projects. I thought to myself, “this is just not fair. The media would have us believe that black youth are nothing more than “at-risk, disadvantaged, impoverished, gang-banging, drug-dealing, baby-making, welfare-receiving, language-killing, school-dropping, responsibility-dodging, prison-filling, violent second class citizens doomed to failure.” I beg to differ. You see, black youth are unique and their needs must be effectively identified and met. Black people have overcome many trials, tribulations, and odds. This is no different. Yes, it seems as though we’re losing an entire generation of black youth. However, somewhere in the midst of the negative data and statistics lies faith—the type of faith that rested securely in the belly of slaves. The faith that screamed, “hold on, this will all be over soon. One day freedom will be more than just a dream of the oppressed but rather a reality that will lead future generations to the mountaintop.” As I continued to reflect, I heard a still voice whisper softly in my ear, “don’t like what you’re seeing and hearing? Then, do something about it. You have the ability and God is with you. Go forth on a mission to help save black youth in America.” After hearing this “crazy” thought, I reflected some more. How can I, one individual, make an impact that will be big enough to transform the lives of black youth? This is an impossible feat.” But the voice wouldn’t go away. “You believe in God and His Holy Word don’t you? If so, then you know that with God all things are possible.” As I watched and listened, I forgot all about that bowl of strawberry ice cream which was now strawberry milk. I knew that I had to come up with something that would serve as a “counter” to all the negativity. I had to give birth to a movement that would inspire, encourage, and empower black youth to say good-bye to yesterday and embrace the promises of tomorrow. I put away my melted snack and stretched out on the couch, my mind and heart racing with excitement. And then it happened. The movement that is now known as B.E.F.Y. fell softly from heaven as a spring rain. Black, Educated, Focused, and Young. Yes, that is definitely the opposite of what we see in many black youths today. I got up from the couch and ran to my computer—jotting down notes and ideas. A few days later, I received an email from Dr. Alicia Francis PhD. Dr. “Li” was promoting her new book, “K.I.M. (keep it moving) and I scheduled her as a guest on my “AfterThoughts” radio broadcast. I had decided to promote young, black professionals under age 35 that had advanced college degrees. Dr. Li’s appearance opened the door for 24 year old Licensed Clinical Therapist Denisha Warren who had obtained a Master’s degree. Denisha’s appearance was well received and opened the door for 23 year old Marcedes Fuller. Marcedes owns a consulting company and is a motivational speaker and philanthropist. His appearance paved the way for 30 year old Jacque Howard MBA. The very humble and intelligent Jacque Howard has a Master’s degree in Business Administration. Her appearance on the show drew questions and comments from adults and children alike. Just as God charged me with the B.E.F.Y. movement, he also gave me the awesome slogan: “It’s Your Life, Get B.E.F.Y. With It!” The movement is gathering steam and a good following. Tom Joyner of the Tom Joyner Morning Show sent me an email stating: “I love the B.E.F.Y. slogan!” I also received an email from Congressman John Conyers’ legislative assistant who requested more information about the program. We are planning a B.E.F.Y. networking conference in late April of 2010. This conference will be a forum for the exchanging of information and ideas as well as a platform for encouraging and inspiring others to pursue higher education. For more information please visit http://www.sandradnewton.com/ or www.blogtalkradio.com/S-Denice-Newton.

Name: B.E.F.Y. (an acronym for black, educated, focused, and young).
Slogan: It’s Your Life, Get B.E.F.Y. with It!”
Symbol/Logo: Graduates in Cap/Gown
Color(s): Green and Yellow.
Green symbolizes the following:
Prosperity, Growth, Life, New Life, Resurrection, Fresh, Flourishing, Young, Tender, Healing, Hope, Peace, Victory, Rest.
Yellow symbolized the following:
Sunshine, Happiness, Fair Weather, Friendship, Caution. Yellow has the highest visibility of the colors and can be seen at the greatest distance. It is also the color of of CAUTION.Yellow demands attention and is insistent.

Death of a Legend, End of an Era

The final curtain call has been issued for Michael Jackson. For years he sang, danced, and smiled his way into our hearts and wallets. However, he eventually morphed into something unidentifiable. Was he a man or boy? human or thing? black or white? Love him or hate him, he was a musical legend, an icon, a "one-of-a-kind" phenomenon that can never, ever be duplicated.

If you're at least 20 years old, you've been exposed to Michael's music and legacy. We've danced to it, sang it, and imitated it in many talent shows and showers across the planet. We've laughed with him and at him, we've cried for him and with him. He was Michael Jackson, the man in a distorted mirror, the mirror that said to him, "you'll never grow up. Like Peter Pan, you'll always be a boy. Fantasy is good. It keeps you from acknowledging the realities of life. You're untouchable. Do whatever seems right to you Michael. The world will support you. After all, you're Michael Jackson. Who would ever hold you accountable for your actions? Just moonwalk your way to innocence. Trust me on this one."

And so he did. He and that cracked, distorted mirror that came to be manager, public relations director, publicist, and counselor, jetsetted around the globe in search of his soul--a soul tormented by the lack of a childhood and the cost of fame, a soul restless and wandering. A soul unattached from reality. He never found that soul. Instead, he found a remedy for the pain that resulted from his lost soul. He found it in drugs like Demerol and Oxycotin.

Anyone with a reasonably functioning brain should have been able to see that Michael Jackson was a "train wreck" waiting to happen. No one goes from being to dark brown to paper white due to a skin problem. No, it just doesn't happen like that. He looked like a pre-school child's playdough mold. He had no nose. He was painfully thin. His hair was a hot mess. Come on now, don't get mad at me. I'm not smearing his memory. I loved Mike too. But I love the truth more.

Help me to understand something. Why do we humans, when we escape the consequences of an action that we committed, continue to do wrong? When are we going to say, "okay, I escaped that one so I'm gonna straighten up and fly right?" But instead, we push our luck like the gambler who was able to win back what he spent gambling but decided in his warped mind that he's lucky enough to double or triple his winnings if he continues to play. Sad commentary indeed. So was the life of Michael Jackson.

Debbie Rowe slithers from the woodwork and announces that the two children she had with Mike wasn't his biologically. No, say it ain't so! He was NOT the father? Wow, Maury Povich missed a great opportunity with this one. Who on God's green earth really believed that those "pure" white children came from his loins? I don't care if you bleach yourself into oblivion, you can't bleach DNA or sperm. Debbie Rowe, you're stupid!

Well, I guess all that's left to say is goodbye. Bye Mike, thanks for the 50 years of music, dances, and comedy. Thanks for leaving your mark. But most of all Michael Jackson, thanks for setting the music bar high enough that current and future artists will have to develop and carry their "A" game at all times. Good Bye Michael, Good Bye Legend.

AfterThoughts Signing Off....

The Deafening Silence Of Your Absence: A Letter To Daddy

I've worked with children for many years and get to see up close and personal the devastating effects of fatherless children. Trust me, it is not a pretty picture. This blog is a letter from the heart of a child, explaining life as it should not be, when daddy is a non-factor. Although it is entirely fictional, it isn't, unfortunately, entirely unrealistic.

~S. Denice Newton

Monday, June 22, 2009

Dear Daddy:

I don't know your real name so I'll call you daddy even though you're not one. I wanted to say happy father's day to you on yesterday but you weren't here. I'm writing to you on the day after father's day because I want you to know what it feels like to have an important day go unrecognized; you know, days like my birthday, Christmas, and other times when most fathers are around and enjoying their kids.

I'm hurting daddy and it's all your fault. It's not the falls from my bike that hurt me. It's not the stomach aches that kept me awake through the night that hurts. It's not even the dreaded needles that the doctor gives that brings me pain. No, it is the deafening silence of your absence. It is a pain like no other. There is no amount of children's tylenol that can take it away. No, it only grows worse as I age.

It all began at conception. You and mom came together as one. It doesn't matter if it happened as the result of a real love affair or a "heat-of-the-moment" fit of passion. All that matters is that I resulted. You don't know this but at the very moment of copulation, hope rose up and possibility sprang forth from your loins. When you reached the acme of the moment, you sent me bursting forth in search of life. I found it in the safety and security of my mother's womb and nestled there without a care in the world. No, all was well. As I grew and developed, I became aware of voices. Of course, mom's voice was the most familiar. She talked about me a lot. She made plans and preparations. Sometimes she got sick and wished that I wasn't inside her but I knew she really didn't mean it. Other times I heard her fears. She wondered how she would care for me but I wasn't concerned. I wanted to assure her that you would be there to help. Sometimes she cried and the "inner tears" would fall softly upon my face. I first heard your voice when mom told you about me. I was so excited! "Daddy is gonna be so thrilled to know that I'm coming," I thought to myself. But the voice that responded to the news was not so pleasant. In fact, the voice was angry and accused mom of telling lies. I was confused yet, I held on to the hope that daddy would come around. Finally, the day came for me to meet the world. I had been preparing for nine whole months and had the strength to push and navigate my way through the channel of life.

Once I passed through the birth channel, I began listening for your voice. I found the deafening silence of your absence. I entered the world in the hands of a doctor and after God breathed the breath of life into my nostrils, I opened my eyes and looked for you. You were not there. I looked at mom. Even though she'd just endured the trauma of childbirth and was completely exhausted, she looked beautiful. I looked around the room and saw several unfamiliar faces looking down at me. Strange though, no daddy.

Mom and I soon went home to begin our new life together. She took real good care of me. She still loved me even when I would scream out in hunger in the middle of the night. Mom would get out of bed, her eyes red with fatigue and see to my needs and comforts. I still looked for you. You were not there. "Maybe he'll come soon," I often said. Babysitters became a part of my life. Mom would get up early in the morning, wash and dress me, feed me and take me to the sitter. She often looked so very tired. As soon as she picked me up from my bed in the mornings, I would smile at her and touch her face. I wanted her to know that it would be okay. She would smile back and give me a "thank you" kiss. I loved those moments.

When I took my first steps, it was mom that stood ready to catch me if I fell. It was mom who said, "you can do it. Don't be afraid. I'm here." Once I mastered the walking thing, I went room-to-room in search of you. "He has to be here someplace," I said. But once again, I encountered the deafening silence of your absence. I learned to walk, run, and ride bikes. I learned to dress myself, brush my teeth, and use the potty. I learned to count, say the alphabet, and memorize my address. All under the watchful eye and praises of my mom. But no daddy.

The real pain began when I started school. I was in Kindergarten. Mom and other family members and friends made sure that I had what I needed: a backpack, new clothes, and school supplies. When mom took me to school on the very first day, we passed a lot of moms and dads in the hallways. My heart pounded with excitement. "Daddy has to be here," I thought. I looked at each and every daddy face, hoping to see my own reflection. But they were all with other little boys and girls. Once I was settled into my classroom, hope began to fade. The deafening silence of your absence was getting stronger and louder.

Throughout my school years, I secretly longed for you to show up for parent-teacher conferences, for school musicals, award ceremonies, and anything else that called for parental involvement and support. You never came. Mom knew the pain that I was feeling. I'd often ask about you. She would talk about you but with disappointment in her eyes. She hurt for me. Yet, she never talked bad about you. She encouraged me to just "pray" that God will touch your heart so that you would one day open your eyes and see what you were missing. But for me, the deafening silence of your absence drowned out any communication between me and God. The pain was just too great and my longing soon turned to bitterness and hatred. Constant rejection will do that.

I needed a daddy's influence in my life. I needed daddy to teach me things that mom couldn't. It was supposed to be a partnership. Mom teach some things, you teach others. But mom taught 100%. It was so hard for her. Sometimes I acted up and got into lots of trouble because I was angry. I was angry with you. The deafening silence of your absence pierced my eardrums and caused me many days of pain, imbalance, and hearing loss. I began to hear only negative voices and influences. They spoke the loudest. Just like your absence.

My high school days were the worst. With mom working so hard, I had very little supervision and intervention. I drank alcohol. I used drugs. I ran with gangs. I broke the law. I didn't care anything about consequences. Consequences didn't care anything about me. You know all about that though. I became a juvenile delinquent who made frequent trips to juvenile lock up facilities. Mom cried. A lot. I hated to hurt her but I couldn't control my actions. After all, I am my daddy's child right? Irresponsibility was my middle name. Poor judgement was my clothing. Bad decisions made up my DNA.

I dropped out of school and became a full time gamin--a street urchin, a public nuisance. From petty crimes to extreme violence, I did it all. I was an "equal opportunity" criminal and did not discriminate based on race, gender, or economic status. Everyone was my target. Mom cried some more. She blamed herself for getting involved with you. She felt that my actions were the direct result of your absence. She was right. Every time I committed a crime, I thought about you and how I would have welcomed the opportunity to inflict pain in your life. But being the coward that you are, you never came around. I never got the opportunity. In some ways, you are very lucky.

Mom finally gave up on me. Do you know how that feels? A mother's love is so deep and so unconditional that we take for granted that it would always be available. And it is. But everyone has limits and when I pushed mom far beyond hers, she finally gave up on me. And when she did, the evil forces of life accosted me. I committed a heinous crime which put me behind bars for life at the tender age of 19. Thanks daddy, you should be proud. The deafening silence of your absence permeated the core of my very being and dictated my life's course.

Happy belated Father's Day, wherever you are. Know that I've been shaped and molded by your absence. Your gift to me has resulted in negative consequences which threaten my very existence. I was conceived in hope, raised in hopelessness, and will now die in both physical and emotional pain. I've finally learned how to communicate with God past the deafening silence of your absence. I've asked him to forgive me for all of my wrongdoings, even the hatred that I have for you. I've heard that He is a just God and if He is, He will forgive me. I'm also praying that he opens your eyes one last time to the news headline of the day that read
"ABSENCE IRRESPONSIBLE JR., DIED BY LETHAL INJECTION TODAY AT 12:01 AM. HIS CRIME: A BUSTED EARDRUM AND BROKEN HEART."

Are you happy now DADDY? I am no more.

Signed,

Your Son
Absence Irresponsible Jr.

Out Of The Woodwork Comes The Truth: Racism, Republicans, and Religious Kooks

I love to write. When I was a little girl, I'd be in my room writing when my sisters and other children in the neighborhood were riding bikes, playing games, skateboarding, or whatever. I realized very young that words had power. Lots of power. For me, reading and writing offered an escape from daily life. Not that my life was so terrible--but it was kinda boring. Through reading I could visit exotic places, dine in palaces, share breathing space with royalty (except Queen Elizabeth, she's too snobby), or witness blossoming romances fully bloom. Through writing I could run the palaces, become royalty, or be the girl that was the object of the "Prince Charming" affection. Oh, the power and potential of words!

Normally when I write blogs, I try to do so in the least offensive way possible. For you see, I understand the power of words whether written or spoken. I frequently write about politics, particularly on the subject of the breakdown and demise of the GOP. Now, I don't write about this topic to offend. I write about this subject because I'm troubled. It's one thing to see elected officials and others in the public eye become targets of hatred from the right. But when it happens to me personally, I'm fighting back using the power of words! Whoever is offended is offended. I have friends and acquaintances who are registered Republicans and it is because of them that I try to voice my opinion as forcefully as I can without "dumping on them." It's becoming increasingly difficult to avoid. Today, the gloves are off!

I really don't know how any mentally-functioning, sane, professional, sincere member of the Republican party can be proud and accepting of the things going on within it. Pushing Limbaugh (that's extremely difficult to do), O'Reilly, Hannity, Gingrich, Cheney, and Steele aside for a moment, I find others who are forcing the party to a state of non-relevance and to the brink of extinction. Now, I fully understand that there is no way to police and muzzle every individual in this country. That would be impossible. But I'll tell you this, whenever I hear about or personally encounter racism, hatred, or divisiveness from the right, I'm calling it out!

Before I get to my personal encounter, let me recap some of the week's event. Dr. George Tiller is assassinated for performing abortions. They wouldn't even respect the man's funeral. Some showed up in protest with signs that read, "God sent the killer." "Abortion is bloody." The man was killed in a church by a "right-thinker." Guess no one told the shooter that the bible says "thou shall not kill." It also states, "vengeance is mine and I will repay," saith the Lord. For those of you on the right that don't know what that means, it is saying that God will rightfully judge and it's not our job to do so! So, Mr. Holy man kills the man that kills babies. And he's going to heaven how? He's not a vigilante, he's a criminal! Yet, some righties consider this man a hero. God help this country if another Republican takes the Oval Office.

Nutcase 2: John Zaubler. Fool calls 911 and reports that he's going to blow up Supreme Court nominee Sotomayor because he don't want his girlfriend to go to federal prison. He also threatens to blow up President Obama. Sounds like a stable, mentally-sound man to me. NOT!!

And then there's Daniel James Murray. Who is he? Please let me tell you. This registered owner of 8 guns, according to a news report, is known for strolling down the street wearing a cape while talking to himself. His own father says he's sick and has been so for about 10 years.

This one goes into a bank, asks if the bank is solvent, and states: "I'm sure if citizens happen to lose their money, they will rise up and we could see killings and deaths." This lunatic then withdraws more than $80,000 but not before stating to the teller that he was on a mission to kill President Obama. The right-wing talking heads in this country should be proud to know that their mission and purpose is being carried out and fulfilled. Literally.

I'm saving my personal encounter for last but before I go there, allow me to "build a case." I'm a Christian who happens to be a Democrat. And for some on the right, that's a definite oxymoron. Democrats can't possibly be Christians because they're "pro-choice." I'm not as pro-choice as I am "pro- God- will- judge." I am the type of Christian that believe in serving God in spirit and in truth as the bible commands. I am a member of a church that I frequent several times a week. I pray. I worship and praise the God of planet earth. I give my service, my tithes, and my faithfulness to the ministry. I love people and am wounded when we "murder" each other whether physically, emotionally, mentally or otherwise. I don't serve God in lip service only or when it furthers my cause or agenda. I am true to my Savior.

Now, my personal encounter. I have a talk radio show entitled, "AfterThoughts With S. Denice Newton." On yesterday, Saturday, June 6, 2009, I had three awesome guests on the show: Vegas Don, a former gang founder and leader turned community activist, Pegine Echevarria, former girl gang member turned motivational speaker, educator, author, and activist, and Investigator T. Griffin, head of the gang task force in Albany, Georgia. We were having a powerful discussion on the effects of gangs on our children and what can be done to stop the building momentum. I had a caller who came on and began to insult us with words like: "I hate all niggers!" "All niggers need to be killed!" Well, initially I was shocked because that had never happened to me before on air. But I remained calmed and hung up. I then stated to my listeners that I would not entertain that nonsense. My guests agreed and we carried on our conversation. My two male guests stated that the jobs they do is to protect people such as the ignorant caller and his family from gang violence.

As the conversation continued, I checked my chat room for comments. Guess what? This individual and others bombarded my chat room with racist comments about black people, President Obama, and other black leaders including police. They stated, "the south will rise again!" "I'm a member of the KKK!" "White Power!" They also began to make sexual, degrading comments about me and referred to me constantly as a black bitch. I didn't get angry. Honestly I didn't. I became saddened. It saddened me that in 2009, the 21st century, the new millennium, we're still dealing with these type of things. The worst part of it all was that these were very young white boys. I know that none of them were over age 21. I could just tell. But the hatred that they spewed was real. It was deep. This simple response threw them off course and took the wind from their sails: "We're not moved by your ignorance. Your day of reckoning is near." They began to ask: "what does that mean?" what the h--l is she talking about? what is reckoning?" From there began a vicious attack and verbal assault on me because they didn't know what the phrase meant. Finally, one of them came up with the answer. I'm sure he googled it. When he told them that it meant that they would be held accountable and judged for their actions one day, they turned their assaults on God, the bible, and Christianity. So very sad.

Anyway, I really hope that those on the right who are still having a hard time accepting Barack Obama as President of this country, would pause and look at the damage that is being caused. This new generation of racists are more dangerous than in the past. They are mentally deranged, drugged out, and full of demonic influence. With all the negativity that fills the airways daily from pundits and commentators, it's no small wonder that these things are happening. George Bush was not, I repeat, was not treated like this!! It is all because of President Barack Obama that these termites are coming out of the woodwork and inflicting fear of multiplication on society.

AfterThoughts Signing Off...