Clay Cane – Journalist, Speaker

STRIKE!

December 20th, 2005 by Clay Cane

music: “Buffalo Solider” Bob Marley

I am so happy right now … Okay, I know some of you may think I’m crazy, but this is a historic moment in New York City … city workers are treated horrible from the transit workers to the police department (a starting salary of $25,000) and worst of all TEACHERS. According to the Taylor Law in New York – it is ILLEGAL FOR CITY WORKERS TO STRIKE. What is the point of a union if you can’t strike?

In the overly convenient society that we live in today no one wants to be inconvenienced, no one wants to have any discomfort, people want things when they want it, or there is no option. Yet they still want to complain about how people are being treated. No change can be made without discomfort and I am ecstatic that WORKING CLASS PEOPLE are taking a stand against big corporations with a strike to the New York City public transportation system during the holidays – that’s right, get ‘em where it hurts!

The city has ignored the workers requests and I think the workers have been totally patient. If they did not strike now no one would take them seriously (they’ve been debating about striking for over a week). Governor Pataki has not been attentive and NOW he is threatening, along with Mike Bloomberg, to throw the union leader, Roger Toussaint (aka Trini Man) in the SLAMMER! I heard one news reporter say, “We are at a high risk for a terrorist attack!” Oh lawwwwwwwwwwwdddddddddddddd! The media will just do anything to scare the good hell out of people won’t they? Working class people saying HELL NAW is not going to cause Al-Queda to slash us – isn’t the highest threat to our subway system – WELL, IT’S NOT RUNNING!

One of the most “striking” things about the strike is that this is a WORKING CLASS REVOLT. The leader of the strike is a West Indian black man who has Irish, Italian, Asian, etc. behind him to take a stand against how they are being treated as workers. Many may not agree, but I don’t think any type of progressive movements are going to take place within RACE in America; I believe it will happen through class. Until poor whites and poor blacks (and all of the other shades, especially in New York) realize that it is PROFITABLE for them to hate each other – they cannot proceed on a progressive path. The workers in this strike realize they are all workers class people – I wish more of us could realize this. Imagine if the whites in the Union said, “I’m not listening to some West Indian man tell me what to do!” Well, that isn’t happening — in the 1920s that did happen and blacks were not even allowed to have a union.

Therefore, this is fantastic and I’m glad to see someone in America take a STAND for something. In 2000 150,000 African-Americans were not allowed to vote in Florida, the Iraq war happens and nationwide protest had no effect, thousands of poor people died in Hurricane Katrina due to an AMERICAN FAILURE (not an act of God or Mother Nature) as they waited for over 5 days for food and water, all this year the President and his administration are making ungodly mistakes and take no real accountability. So, go on and strike! I hope this makes some type of change in New York … this city is overpriced, underpaid and overworked. As Roger Toussaint said: “To the city’s seven million commuters, we ask for your understanding. Our fight is your fight.”

Ummmmmmmmmm … like I said, I’m all for it, but they have to get themselves together by Thursday! I got things to do!

Here are a few things transit workers are fighting for:

To have maternity leave (they have NO maternity leave)

Be afforded bathroom breaks between route changes

For the reirement age to not be moved up to 65

For the new and future hires to recieve the same pension increase that the current ones are supposed to be recieving instead of having to return 6%.

SHARETHIS

23 Comments

THANKSGIVING HORROR-DAY

November 23rd, 2005 by Clay Cane

music: “Mama” by Beth Hart “confused by own illusion … she said it’s only my pride … “

For a large part of my childhood I was raised in Washington State and had invaluable contact with Native American communities (feels weird to say “contact” as if they are aliens!). These experiences had a profound affect on me in regard to race, sexuality, gender and especially religion – the demons of Jim Crow Christianity never snatched me up! I truly believe once being freed from such a macabre religious structure like Christianity/Islam/Judaism that people of color are able to live much more fluidly, however, I will do a scathing entry on religion soon enough …. A few of my blogland friends have repeatedly made some Jim Crow Christian comments and I had to use all the force in my fingers to not bang out replies, but I digress ….

With “Thanksgiving” upon us everyone is screaming “Happy Thanksgiving!” with NO consideration to the BASIC truths that most people know about the holiday. Every time I hear it, I slightly cringe. Usually I say Happy Turkey Day …. I’m sure most of you are aware Native Americans were annihilated off the planet and what that stands for in terms of Thanksgiving, but I wanted to share with you the FULL story. It is graphic, sad and reflective … I recommend everyone to think before saying “HAPPY THANKSGIVING.” I’m about to have an Oprah-esque moment … I believe words are extremely powerful, especially words that a NATION uses like THANKSGIVING. It’s paramount for people (especially black folks who have all the rage when all 50 states do not honor Dr. King’s birthday as a holiday, but could careless that Thanksgiving is a celebration of America’s greatest [yes, I said GREATEST atrocity) to be cognitive of what they give life to through words. If you have any thoughts please feel free to share (although I know this ain’t gonna get 50 posts like my celeb pic entries – I know, we like it trashy!!!) …

*************

A harvest feast did take place in Plymouth in 1621, probably in mid-October and the Indians who attended were not even invited. It later became known as "Thanksgiving" but the Pilgrims never called it that. The pilgrim crop had failed miserably that year, but the agricultural expertise of the Pilgrims' Indian friend Squanto had produced 20 acres of corn without which the Pilgrims would have surely perished. The Pilgrims invited Massasoit, and it was he who then invited 90 or more of his Indian brothers and sisters to the affair to the chagrin of the indignant Europeans.

No turkey, cranberry sauce or pumpkin pie was served, no prayers were offered and the Indians were not invited back. The Pilgrims did, however, consume a good deal of home brew. In fact, each Pilgrim drank at least a half gallon of ale a day which they preferred even to water. Contrary to popular mythology, the Pilgrims were no friends to the majority of local Indians. Just days before this alleged Thanksgiving communion, a company of Pilgrims led by Myles Standish actively sought the head of a local chief. They deliberately caused a rivalry between two friendly Indians, putting one against the other in an attempt to obtain "better intelligence and make them both more diligent." An 11-foot-high wall was erected around the entire settlement for the purpose of keeping the Indians out.

Standish eventually got his bloody prize. He beheaded an Indian brave named Wituwamat and brought the head to Plymouth where it was displayed on a wooden spike for many years. Just a few years later, in about 1636, a force of colonists trapped some 700 Pequot Indian men, women, and children near the mouth of the Mystic River. English Captain John Mason attacked the Indian camp with "fire, sword, blunderbuss, and tomahawk."Only a handful escaped and few prisoners were taken, to the great delight of the Pilgrims:

To see them frying in the fire, and the streams of their blood quenching the same, and the stench was horrible; but the victory seemed a sweet sacrifice, and they gave praise thereof to God.

This event marked what was most likely the first actual Thanksgiving and the Pilgrims were pleased with the result. Any goodwill that may have existed was certainly now gone and by 1675 Massachusetts and the surrounding colonies were in a full-scale war with the great Indian chief of the Wampanoags, Metacomet. Renamed "King Philip" by the White man, Metacomet watched the steady erosion of the lifestyle and culture of his people as European laws and values engulfed them. Forced into humiliating submission by the power of a distant king, Metacomet struck out in 1675 with raids on several isolated frontier towns. The expedient use of the so-called "Praying Indians," natives converted by the colonists to "Christianity," ultimately defeated the great Indian nation, just half a century after the arrival of the European historian Douglas Edward Leach describes the bitter end:

The ruthless executions, the cruel sentences ... were all aimed at the same goal--unchallenging white supremacy in southern New England. That the program succeeded is convincingly demonstrated by the almost complete docility of the local native ever since.

When Captain Benjamin Church tracked down and assassinated Metacomet, his body was quartered and parts were "left for the wolves." The great Indian chief's hands were cut off and sent to Boston and his head went to Plymouth where it was set upon a pole on Thanksgiving Day, 1676. Metacomet's nine-year-old son was destined for execution, the Puritan reasoning being that the offspring of the devil must pay for the sins of their father. He was instead shipped to the Caribbean to serve his life in slavery.

In the midst of the Holocaust of the Red Man, Governor Dudley declared in 1704 a "General Thanksgiving"--not to celebrate the brotherhood of man---but for:

[God's] infinite Goodness to extend His Favors … In defeating and disappointing … the Expeditions of the Enemy [Indians] against us, And the good Success given us against them, by delivering so many of them into our hands… Just two years later one could reap a $50 reward in Massachusetts for the scalp of an Indian.

The model of the Indian reservation system in North America had its origin in Massachusetts. A series of legislative acts “for the better regulation of the Indians” established Indian settlements throughout the state. A White overseer was appointed and white Christianity was imposed. Historian George F. Weston wrote that demand was great for ropemaker John Harrison, what with “the need for rigging for all the ships and a new rope every time an Indian was hanged.”

Bon Appetite!

Fore more information on this check out Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong by James Loewen.

SHARETHIS

41 Comments

Halloween & the Hunt

October 30th, 2005 by Clay Cane

mood: elated
music: “21 Questions” by 50 Cent “you know my style, I’ll say anything to make you smile”

Today is Halloween, which is the day of ghosts and goblins – however, for all the single people it will determine your LOVE status for the holidays!

There’s a rule when it comes to the singularity of the holiday season and the barbaric search for that one good piece of tail that will ride you threw the cold, bitter, frigid nights … Here it goes:

If you’re still dateless by Halloween — still complaining to your friends how everyone is a piece of gutter trash who are full of mental deficiencies — still trying to convince yourself that you’re perfectly fine being single and there’s nothing someone can give to you that you can’t give to yourself …. THEN … YOU WILL BE SINGLE FOR THANKSGIVING. There’s usually a five day or so grace period, but it’s basically a wrap by November. EVEN if you find a good date on November 15th — Thanksgiving isn’t but a week and a half away! If you bring the date back home or to your friend’s house (that’s for some of the gays that aren’t as PRIVILEGED as the straights to bring the significant others to family!) what are you going to say, “Oh yes, we’ve been dating for …. a little over a week.” Your family won’t take you seriously, and if you have any gay friends they will say to the closest person in earshot, “This whore brought her last minute date to Turkey Day!”

So Thanksgiving doesn’t work out — after going home and feeling bloated, you lay in your bed with a glass of straight vodka, listening to Nina Simone and watching The Color Purple reciting every line like you wrote the script. “All my life I had to fight — awwwww damn, DAMN, DAMN … I’m single on the holidays AGAIN!” Nonetheless, you convince everyone that you’re perfectly happy being single and it doesn’t even cross your mind in your busy, productive life. Uh-huh, okay…………. Well, there is hope … CHRISTMAS! However, the same rule applies … if that November 15th date happened then you can spend your “first” Christmas (hopefully it won’t be your last) with the new “potential.” If you’re still dateless with NO potentials by the end of Thanksgiving weekend it’s a WRAP for Christmas and NEW YEARS!! You’ll be singing yuletide greetings by yourself and watching It’s A Wonderful Life wondering to yourself for the millionth time, “Why are there NO black folks in this movie?” AGAIN – if a good date comes along by mid-December you really can’t go all out and buy a gift because you barely know the person. God forbid you do, and it ends a few weeks later! It may even seem too much to spend Christmas night with someone you barely know — and do you really want to bring the New Year in with a date you just met a few weeks ago … if it ends that sets an atrocious stage for the following year!!!

HOLD UP, WAIT A MINUTE – LET ME PUT SOME PIMP IN IT! You still have a lil’ hope left … so on that Christmas or New Years weekend when everyone has Monday off — you meet someone! What a Christmas gift … you get to know them and end up with a Valentine’s Day date! Congrats!!!! HOWEVER, if you didn’t get that connection by New Years (considering the five day grace period) anything after that is a last minute hot-whore-tramp date to just compensate for Valentine’s Day. So, you’ll walk the streets that week seeing all the flaming red, colorful candy and cheesy balloons looking like someone coughed up blood all over the city. You will justify to everyone how foolish Valentine’s Day is, knowing if you had a Valentine’s Day date you would have a lil’ something in your hand, or at least BE with that person (I see the posts coming now with people saying they don’t believe in Valentine’s Day … blah, blah, blah! I’m not saying you have to believe in it, but if you live in America, especially in a city, you can’t avoid it!). The single life …

There are exceptions to every rule … for example, if you just got out of a 10-year relationship last weekend then yo’ azz does not need any connection. Many claim they don’t care about the holidays … but the holidays … ESPECIALLY NEW YEAR’S does make one reflect on their life. A year has passed … you’re closer to your next birthday … what are you doing with your life (maybe you’re in a relationship you shouldn’t be in) … the world hasn’t ended yet …. Bush is still in office … Beyonce is still popular … Madonna is still trying to make a comeback …. Diddy has a dog named Cha-Cha ….One cannot help but reflect during the holidays and we reflect on the future — the future often includes that human, soulful and passionate connection. So good luck on the savage hunt!

SHARETHIS

22 Comments

MANGO COOCHIE

October 27th, 2005 by Clay Cane

The last time I went to CBGB’s I saw the amazing TAMAR KALI who is the punk rock version of Tina Turner. Her voice, energy and passion are unmatched. I encourage everyone to check her out if you can. Anyway, I go to CBGB’s excited to see another black rock artist – I was by myself because none of my friends could endure the trek on a Thursday night. The room was filled with alternative black rock folk — NOT the crazy type … you know, punk-rocked with blue hair and a listless look in their eyes that makes you think they tested every substance in the drug alphabet. Also, not neo-soul-ish type looking like they fart incense and piss ginger tea – just alternative in a natural way. I loved it ….

I got there a little early so I casually walked around admiring the grit of CBGB’s. I locked eyes with a young woman – actually she locked eyes with me that screamed she wanted to grab my dick, bang me over the head with a club and bring me to her cave like a true a Neanderthal! I knew she wanted me with a stare that was “I just got of prison” intense. I’m a nice guy so I nodded, smiling at her – THE DOOR WAS OPENED.

She motions for me to come over – I reluctantly walk over and she puts her hand out for me to shake. She says, “You’re cute!” I laugh and thank her for the compliment getting a better look at her. She was a thick, tall, brown-skinned girl with so much make-up that she looked like she dipped her face in a bowl of light-brown chocolate frosting – Momma was painted! She had fire-engine-my-coochie-is-on-fire RED, RED, RED lipstick spread over her healthy lips … I have a slight issue with women of color in hot-whore red lipstick… I think the skin tone throws it off — earth tones ladies! But I digress … she was tossing a crown of lovely locs down to her shoulders that were an odd contrast with pounds of make-up and hot-strumpet lipstick. She would’ve been more attractive if she wasn’t BEAT FOR THE GODS (translation – too much make-up on!). Very interesting girl … she pats a seat next to her and insists that I sit down.

“Who are you here with?” She demands to know.

“By myself.”

“Really? Do you have a girlfriend?” Her eyes spread over her face like two tablespoons of butter on Aunt Jemima pancakes waiting for my answer. This always confuses me when straight women ask me this … my gay/bi boys know this feeling.

I answer honestly, “No, I don’t have a girlfriend.” Her butter eyeballs melt and she asks my name. She tells me her name and for her own protection I will refer to her as “Mango Coochie” – you will see why. So she grills me in an intense interview session that made me feel slightly uncomfortable, but I thought it was cool that this woman was being so aggressive. I love women who are out of the box.

After this heavy interrogation … she confirms again that I don’t have a girlfriend. I tell her no and laughing as I’m answering. She seemed to interpret my laugh as something that satisfied her and states extremely seriously, “Yeah, you look like you need some pussy.” I’m thinking … YOU DON’T KNOW THE HALF OF IT, LOVE JUICE!

“Really? Why do you say that?” I ask … knowing I was getting in dangerous territory asking questions.

“I can just tell … my coochie is really good.” It takes a lot to throw me off with words (any of my friends know this), but Mango Coochie brought me RIGHT TOGETHER.

“Really?” She glares at me like I was challenging the worth of her coochie. “Yes, it smells like MANGOS!”

“Mangos?”

“Yes, and I make the best mango pancakes. I’d like to make them for you!” I’m reeling now and trying to contain myself … still wondering if I should tell her I’m not hetero. However, her intensity was so dramatic that I was intimidated by her, which NEVER happens. I start laughing hysterically and she uses my laugh as a cue to fall all over me and mash her bosom in my face. Her bosom that did … I tell no lies … smelled like fresh mangos — picked from the tree of a colonized Jamaican plantation!!! I was DONE! She kept ramming her breasts on me and throwing her head back with wild laughs. I was waiting for her to tear off her denim skirt, wrap her legs around my neck and slam her mango coochie in my face!

I tried to pull myself together and reclaim my personal space that was invaded by her mango bosom when I asked her, “So, why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

She quickly replies like she was waiting for that comment since the moment she locked eyes with me, “Because I’m the best girlfriend in the world!”

“How so?”

“I don’t mind if my boyfriend fucks around — as long as he tells me.”

“Really?” In my head I’m thinking – that isn’t the best girlfriend in the world, that’s the girlfriend with the lowest self-esteem in the world! “So does that mean you can fuck around too?” I ask.

“No!” She corrects as if that would ruin her chances. “I’m a serial monogamist and women just can’t do that.” I almost wanted to explore that comment, but I knew that would get me into some overly revealing grounds with Mango Coochie. The show was getting ready to start and I wanted to be right up front so I could absorb every ounce of Tamar Kali. She gave me her number and questions, “Are you gonna call me? I really want to make you those pancakes!” I HATE lying … I do, but Mango Coochie kind of scared me. That was my opportunity to say I was not one of the straights, but why should I … why should I explain myself for the walking mango??? So, I lied and felt bad saying I would call her – but I was scared she might put some mango coochie curse on me! She was satisfied with my answer and stared at me throughout the night like she was ready to LICK me from my locs to my yellow goodness!

I saw Mango Coochie dancing to the hard core soul-punk music …. I remember saying to myself, “She dances just like Molly Ringwald in the Breakfast Club on the staircase in the library!” I never called Mango Coochie … I felt guilty because I could FEEL that she was waiting for my call with the pancakes on the grill and her coochie freshly marinated with mango! Oh, Mango Coochie …

SHARETHIS

38 Comments

I AIN’T ALL BLOG – you wanna help someone directly? Now you can ..

September 3rd, 2005 by Clay Cane

I’ve been worked up about everything going on so I ‘ve been brainstorming for days on WHAT I CAN DO. I heard a woman on CNN who said she was in a hotel in Baton Rogue, Louisiana called the Baymont – she had been living in her car for days, someone got her a hotel and she has nothing. She detailed that FEMA and American Red Cross has done NOTHING. I went to superpages.com, got the hotel’s number and called nonstop, but it was either busy or saying: “Due to the hurricane your call cannot be completed.”

I began calling ALL the hotels that were listed in the Baton Rogue area and finally got through to a Best Western. I asked the receptionist if she had any hurricane evacuees – I think she thought I was looking for family. She said: “Yes, we are overwhelmed.” I told her that I wanted to help, but I refuse to donate to the Red Cross, or FEMA because I don’t trust them. I asked her if there is any family I can speak with that I could send clothes to and help – I wanted to help a family directly. A woman named Denise Cross got on the phone — she told me her home was flooded, she has no job and has lost everything. I cannot tell you the HEAVINESS in her voice.

Trying to not let her hear me crying, I asked what I could do and she gave me the number for her sister, Trina Cross, in the Dallas area. She recommended that I mail everything to her sister who is driving between Dallas and Baton Rogue, dropping things off.

As of now me and some friends are shipping clothes/shoes/cell phones to them TONIGHT at the 24 hour post office in New York City. If you would like to help please contact me! I don’t feel comfortable sending/giving money to American Red Cross (last I heard they wont accept anything but money) or any other BS organization who take 10 percent of administration fees. Nor do I feel comfortable mailing things to the Salvation Army who will have things sit in a warehouse for weeks. These supplies are going directly to a family that I spoke to – if you’re interested in sending something please email, or call me. I don’t want to post Denise‘s sister’s address on a blog for it to be all over the Internet.

We can whine, scream, shout and roar racism (although it is) and class (although it is) – BUT doing something, even if it’s a little, is what really matters. You don’t have to send money – lawd knows, I don’t have it. However, we all have clothes (especially you coutre butch queens who are reading this! lol) and other things that can be given away.

If you already have a family to help directly (or your own family in the area) then I understand if you can’t do anything for this family — however, if you don’t know anyone in the area and you feel like Red Cross/FEMA and stupid benefit concerts are not enough and too slow – NOW you know Denise Cross. I’m looking forward to hearing from you!

Peace,

Clay

PS. If you would rather do this on your own — start calling as many hotels you can in Baton Rogue and the surrounding areas (just like I did) until you get through. For those who don’t mind giving money, you can western union it, get an address to send things, or whatever the case may be. I didn’t feel comfortable going through the internet to find someone because it might be a scam. Stop saying, “I wish I could do something!” YOU CAN DO SOMETHING ….. I JUST PROVED IT.

SHARETHIS

9 Comments