The journalism world is really changing. I’ve been very busy trying to keep my passion alive. After, numerous lay-offs I decided to get back to the basics. Go back to my first love. I mean not be in love with her but love her enough to get going, does that make sense. This blog with be a combination of news, music, opinions, and relationships. Let me know what you think.

Xoxox,

The Writer

Hey Guys,

Here is something rather bothersome. It seems the Good Ole’ Boyz have yet another tactic up their sleeve. But this is low, and down-right sad.  What do you think about this article?

Yours Truly,

Well, loyal readers I am Journalism, is on a stay-cation, and will come back soon. I know, you are saying, well there’s only three post, don’t worry, I promise, more will come.

IAJ

Dear Journalism:

I loved you from the day you were born, and now you can’t give me a job. What’s up with that?

Who was trying to protect you when  Gannett and McClatchy ate you for lunch?  Me. I came to your rescue, and even convinced them you were worthy.  And, when your stories left you for the Internet, and every Joe Schmo with a computer could make you a hobby, I was in the trenches studying you, getting a degree, learning about how to write a captivating lead.

And remember the time, when your great great grandfather “the Paper” was terminally ill, and Media Conglomerates wanted to pull the plug? I introduced you to your second husband, Mr. Blogger, who was born and raised on the Internet. This was before Leonard Pitts made you look like a fresh young prostitute with his sizzling columns that always made you look a size smaller. And, Mitch Albom, fed you steak, and shrimp on Tuesdays with Morrie.

Both of them treated you like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, and you have the prizes to prove it.

Journalism, I love you, and always will, but you have crossed the line. And if this continues, I will be forced to leave you completely to write flowery novels.

When I came across the disturbing pictures of actress LisaRaye who supposedly had been bruised up by someone, but not by her she-made-him-famous husband, the guy from the Turks and Caicos Island, I swear, for a second I was going to write a juicy woman’s empowerment speech, about how women rule the world. But the only question, I can sputter out is, how long my brothers, how long?

Civil rights Dreamer, Martin Luther King Jr., might never have dreamed this: His adult children embroiled in a messy lawsuit with whom? Each other.
I have to admit, this was a touchy subject to write about, because I felt King himself was sitting next to me shaking his head. And to make matters worse, a small postcard with his portrait sits ominously on my wall.
I wonder what Dr. King would say. For all the black people who think Martin should replace the Holy Spirit in the trinity, I’ll spare you on putting curse words in Rev’s vocabulary, because we all know MLK never uttered a bad word. He just cheated on The Misses.  Here’s what he would do: Look each child in the eye, interlocking his fingers under his chin, sigh, and then say, “I had a dream.” Were you waiting for something spectacular? For real, that’s all he would say.
Then mumble under his breath, “y’all already know what Jesse thinks about our people, now stop acting like……”