Grandson: What are you, Democrat or Republican?
Grandpa: I’m a Yellow Dog Democrat, and proud of it.
Grandson: But didn’t you join the army, Gramps?
Grandpa: Yeah, but I think that you may be misunderstanding what Yellow means. There are two kinds of Democrats, a Yellow Dog Democrat and a Blue Dog Democrat. Yellow means that I rarely agree with a Republican position. Blue Dog Democrats more often than not agree with the Republican point of view, so much so that in my opinion they are little more than Republican moles, masquerading as Democrats. Do you understand the difference?
Grandson: I get it now, but my teacher said that Abraham Lincoln was a Republican.
Grandpa: Yes he was, but in Lincoln’s day, the Republican Party was genuinely the party of the people. They were both logical and humane. Today’s Republicans are mostly downright mean racists and sexist hypocrites, by design.
Grandson: You got an example?
Grandpa: Sure. Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that most Americans want Republicans and Democrats alike to take a tough position against terrorism and terrorists. Right?
Grandson: Yeah.
Grandpa: The majority of Americans like to think that it is Republicans who are the toughest on terrorists. Am I right?
Grandson: Yeah.
Grandpa: In American politics you have to look below the surface of any stated position a Republican takes, because there is usually a secondary motive behind it.
Grandson: Gramps, I got to be honest with you. What you just said is not much of an example. In fact, to me, it sounds more like you just don’t like Republicans.
Grandpa: Okay, there is some truth to that, but I can and will give you a better example.
Grandson: Bring it on.
Grandpa: Republicans preach a lot, but rarely practice what they preach. For instance, if a person from another country becomes a US citizen, but is suspected of being a terrorist, that person is placed on the FBIs terrorist watch list. Consequently, he or she cannot board a plane bound for, or in, America. I think that is a good idea. What about you?
Grandson: Me too.
Grandpa: Okay, tell me if you think this is a good idea. Despite being on the FBIs terrorist watch list, that same person can legally purchase an AK- 47 assault rifle, with a thirty round clip.
Grandson: Gramps, you’re kidding me?
Grandpa: No son, I’m dead serious.
Grandson: So how do you know this is true?
Grandpa: Have you ever heard of a Senator Graham?
Grandson: You mean Senator Lindsey Graham, of one of the Carolinas?
Grandpa: Yeah, South Carolina. He recently stood up in vigorous opposition to a very logical bill that would have made it illegal for anyone who is on the FBIs terrorist watch list to purchase an assault weapon, or explosives. So while he logically doesn’t want such a person on a plane – for obvious reasons – he illogically seems to think it’s okay for such a person to purchase assault weapons and various explosives.
Grandson: Wow! That’s kind of dumb.
Grandpa: When the bill was tabled for approval, during a hearing that was attended by members of the Senate Homeland Security Committee, Senator Graham strongly objected and said, ‘I think you’re going too far here.’
Grandson: You know, I’ll bet that the National Rifle Association wrote him a big fat check for that objection.
Grandpa: You’re probably right. Republicans are quick to use the right to bear arms, as is set forth in the US Constitution, to back up any absurd notion that they can come up with. It is as if they don’t realize that the Constitution was drafted by men who wouldn’t allow the women in their families to vote. We are talking about men who owned slaves; forty, fifty and sixty year old men who thought it was okay to marry child-brides. All of that kind of crap was legal when the US Constitution was written. Republicans do not accept the fact that times have changed, unless a situation can be used to their selfish advantage.
Grandson: Now I understand why you call 'em sexist, racist hypocrites! Can I ask you a couple of personal questions, Gramps?
Grandpa: Okay, sure.
Grandson: How long did you stay in prison?
Grandpa: Thirty-two years.
Grandson: Can you buy an AK-47 legally?
Grandpa: Of course not. The only right I have to protect my home is in my right and left arms when I pick up that baseball bat that I keep under the bed.
Grandson: Gramps, a foreigner who is on the FBIs terrorist watch list (but who also has US citizenship) has more rights than you do!
Grandpa: Hey, is that you paying attention to what old Gramps is saying?
Monday, 31 May 2010
The Grandfather Dialogues: Two
Grandpa: What size is your waist?
Grandson: Twenty-two.
Grandpa: So why are you looking through a rack of size thirty pants?
Grandson: Baggy pants are in, Gramps.
Grandpa: The thing to remember about what’s in or out is that trends and styles are always in a state of change, son.
Grandson: How come you never say anything about how low I wear my pants? I know you don’t like it.
Grandpa: Coming from you, that’s an unusually astute observation.
Grandson: Then you admit that you don’t like my sense of style, but not enough to complain about it?
Grandpa: Well, I come from a place in time where men generally are in the habit of letting other men be free to design, define and refine their own style. As a matter of fact, when I was just a couple of years older than you, most young Black men were wearing our pants so high that we walked around with a constant wedgie, day and night. I’m guessing I don’t have to tell you what happened in the front of our pants as a result of pulling them up so high––not everybody liked to see one of us coming, if you catch my drift.
Grandson: How did the White guys dress back then?
Grandpa: The young White guys wore their pants then like young Black men do today. They thought their pants nearly falling off were cool. Some were worse than you––at least you wear drawers. Many White guys in the fifties didn’t have the decency to wear any drawers.
Grandson: You mean, they actually showed their crack?
Grandpa: Yeah, pretty much. There were a lot of them who thought that was real ‘cool’. They wore their shirt collars turned up, and their pants all but falling down in Chicago.
Grandson: Wow, I didn’t know that Gramps.
Grandpa: Sounds like we might need to talk about this kind of stuff more often.
Grandson: Wait here, I’ll be right back.
The young man turned and walked briskly back into the men’s clothing store. Three or four minutes later her returned.
Grandson: I exchanged that pair of size thirty for a size twenty-four.
Grandpa: You giving up cool for logic?
Grandson: Naw, I’m still cool. But I’m refining my cool, a little bit at a time.
Grandpa: Well nobody can do that better than you son.
Grandson: Twenty-two.
Grandpa: So why are you looking through a rack of size thirty pants?
Grandson: Baggy pants are in, Gramps.
Grandpa: The thing to remember about what’s in or out is that trends and styles are always in a state of change, son.
Grandson: How come you never say anything about how low I wear my pants? I know you don’t like it.
Grandpa: Coming from you, that’s an unusually astute observation.
Grandson: Then you admit that you don’t like my sense of style, but not enough to complain about it?
Grandpa: Well, I come from a place in time where men generally are in the habit of letting other men be free to design, define and refine their own style. As a matter of fact, when I was just a couple of years older than you, most young Black men were wearing our pants so high that we walked around with a constant wedgie, day and night. I’m guessing I don’t have to tell you what happened in the front of our pants as a result of pulling them up so high––not everybody liked to see one of us coming, if you catch my drift.
Grandson: How did the White guys dress back then?
Grandpa: The young White guys wore their pants then like young Black men do today. They thought their pants nearly falling off were cool. Some were worse than you––at least you wear drawers. Many White guys in the fifties didn’t have the decency to wear any drawers.
Grandson: You mean, they actually showed their crack?
Grandpa: Yeah, pretty much. There were a lot of them who thought that was real ‘cool’. They wore their shirt collars turned up, and their pants all but falling down in Chicago.
Grandson: Wow, I didn’t know that Gramps.
Grandpa: Sounds like we might need to talk about this kind of stuff more often.
Grandson: Wait here, I’ll be right back.
The young man turned and walked briskly back into the men’s clothing store. Three or four minutes later her returned.
Grandson: I exchanged that pair of size thirty for a size twenty-four.
Grandpa: You giving up cool for logic?
Grandson: Naw, I’m still cool. But I’m refining my cool, a little bit at a time.
Grandpa: Well nobody can do that better than you son.
The Grandfather Dialogues: One
Brandon never stops reading, listening, thinking, and then writing his responses to the world. He does this through fiction, essay, memoir, and short articles. What follows is the first in a series of dialogues between a grandfather and his teenage grandson about all manner of topics, social and political.
Brandon would like readers to suggest topics, and write to him directly via his prison address:
Mr Brandon Astor Jones, 400574
Georgia Diagnostic Classification Prison
P.O. Box 3877
Jackson, Georgia
GA 30233
USA
THE GRANDFATHER DIALOGUES: ONE
Grandpa: Well, you’re going to be a teenager tomorrow. I’ll be calling you a ‘young man’ from now on.
Grandson: I’ve been a young man for a long time now.
Grandpa: Okay, I stand corrected. So tell me young man, exactly what was it about the woman who just walked by us that caused you to turn around for another look?
Grandson: I wanted to see her walking away.
Grandpa: Well, what do you think?
Grandson: No onion!
Grandpa: Don’t tell me you’re going to grow up and be one of those guys who make all kinds of silly assumptions about women, based soley on the size of their backsides?
Grandson: Gramps, nice behinds are important to young Black men––at least, that’s how it is with the guys I hang out with.
Grandpa: Let me be sure that I’m understanding what you’re saying here. That woman’s beauty as she was walking towards us, in your opinion, deserved a second look when she passed, but because she was not about to pop the seams in that dress you think that she fell short on your beauty-meter’s scale?
Grandson: I guess so.
Grandpa: You guess so? Are you saying you don’t really know who or what you like?
Grandson: Well…
Grandpa: Since you can’t answer that question, maybe you can answer this one. Tell me exactly who determines who is, and who is not, good-looking in your life?
Grandson: Me!
Grandpa: Okay, tell me, what color are her eyes and hair?
Grandson: I don’t remember.
Grandpa: Light brown eyes, black and brown hair, and she’s wearing a gold wedding band on her left thumb.
Grandson: You saw all that in one passing glance?
Grandpa: Yeah, but only because I was looking at the whole package of the beauty she projected – not just her backside as she walked through this mall.
Grandson: So you’re saying that I need to expand my female-vision a little more?
Grandpa: No, I’m saying a lot more. I’m saying that a woman is a lot more than what you see behind, or in front of, her. One more thing, just in case you have not noticed, I’ve been a Black guy for a long time now, too.
Brandon would like readers to suggest topics, and write to him directly via his prison address:
Mr Brandon Astor Jones, 400574
Georgia Diagnostic Classification Prison
P.O. Box 3877
Jackson, Georgia
GA 30233
USA
THE GRANDFATHER DIALOGUES: ONE
Grandpa: Well, you’re going to be a teenager tomorrow. I’ll be calling you a ‘young man’ from now on.
Grandson: I’ve been a young man for a long time now.
Grandpa: Okay, I stand corrected. So tell me young man, exactly what was it about the woman who just walked by us that caused you to turn around for another look?
Grandson: I wanted to see her walking away.
Grandpa: Well, what do you think?
Grandson: No onion!
Grandpa: Don’t tell me you’re going to grow up and be one of those guys who make all kinds of silly assumptions about women, based soley on the size of their backsides?
Grandson: Gramps, nice behinds are important to young Black men––at least, that’s how it is with the guys I hang out with.
Grandpa: Let me be sure that I’m understanding what you’re saying here. That woman’s beauty as she was walking towards us, in your opinion, deserved a second look when she passed, but because she was not about to pop the seams in that dress you think that she fell short on your beauty-meter’s scale?
Grandson: I guess so.
Grandpa: You guess so? Are you saying you don’t really know who or what you like?
Grandson: Well…
Grandpa: Since you can’t answer that question, maybe you can answer this one. Tell me exactly who determines who is, and who is not, good-looking in your life?
Grandson: Me!
Grandpa: Okay, tell me, what color are her eyes and hair?
Grandson: I don’t remember.
Grandpa: Light brown eyes, black and brown hair, and she’s wearing a gold wedding band on her left thumb.
Grandson: You saw all that in one passing glance?
Grandpa: Yeah, but only because I was looking at the whole package of the beauty she projected – not just her backside as she walked through this mall.
Grandson: So you’re saying that I need to expand my female-vision a little more?
Grandpa: No, I’m saying a lot more. I’m saying that a woman is a lot more than what you see behind, or in front of, her. One more thing, just in case you have not noticed, I’ve been a Black guy for a long time now, too.
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