The Fishing Boat

For a while in my twenties I worked on a fishing boat.  I had gotten fed up with my crummy job operating a photocopier and decided to give the sea a try.  Maybe because people told me I should have gone into the navy; I don't know.

While I was on the boat, I was thinking about good and bad things back home.  I thought about violence a lot (only a little bit because I was mad at the other crewmen), and I am came to the conclusion that BLACK PEOPLE ARE STUPID WHEN IT COMES TO WONDERING WHY WHITES ARE AFRAID.  It was a nasty thing to think about my brothers and sisters, but out there in the Gulf of Mexico, I didn't have much else to think about.  (I don't think Blacks are stupid like that any more; more about that later.)  (Oh, and another thing - I wasn't really THAT mad at the other crewmen; it was just frustration from all the close quarters.  Go fishing for weeks at a time and you'll know what I mean.)

There's a whole lot more I've thought about since then.  Until a month or two ago I used to hang out on Black boards and ask people who they could say they had Black pride if they blamed all their failures on whites.  People responded but they didn't LISTEN.

So I gave up.  I dropped my old pseudonym and decided to pick a new pseudonym - a proud African (not necessarily Black) warrior who used to be a slave.  I'm not a warrior (I just don't have a killer instinct - more about that later) and I never was a slave (I was LUCKY to be born when I was), but I am certainly proud.  It is a virtue AND a vice - don't let anybody tell you different.  

This is my first post for the blog.  More will follow.  I'll tell you my life story, if it isn't too boring, and then I'll tell you why I feel the way I do.  I'm not trying to shock anyone, but I don't exactly mind if I do.  This blog isn't rude but it's not for politically correct people either.