Not My Problem

When I was in Junior High I didn't know that I
should vote for myself, so I lost the post of
Class Rep by one vote.
Mine.

The teacher, aware of my innocence told me I
was deputy class rep.

One day something happened.
Something Big.
And I found out about it.
Which is weird cause I am usually the last
to know anything.

I ran across the school ground, fell, skinned
my knee, kept going, racing to where the
Student Council was meeting.

The door was closed, I tried to get in and
Big Fat Arlene came out and told me I could
not be allowed in.

I tried to explain why I needed to get inside,
but of course she wasn't going to listen, or
had the brain capacity to understand.

A girl named Thelma came up, heard what I had
to say, and then, oddly replied;
"It is Not Your Problem."

My mouth was crammed with so many words I
choked...
but she was right.
It was Not My Problem.

A beatific smile exploded and I walked away
singing my "It's Not My Problem" song.

The next day when the crap hit the fan and
the school was in chaos, I sat back, with
my beatific smile, because it was Not My
Problem.

Other kids were distressed, other kids were
berating me for my who cares attitude.

Much later in life, the same thing happened.
Only it wasn't a class rep, it was a Member
of Parliament. And it wasn't some school issue
but a national one.

The secretary refused to let me speak to the
MP and I realised;
It was Not My Problem.

So I sang my song, and watched the crap hit
the fan, and, well, I chuckled.

A few years later I approached the then
Prime Minister, my mouth full of important
information.
But the Prime Minister didn't want to hear it.
So
It's not my problem.

In life, if you surround yourself with idiots,
if you can not differentiate between people who
only want to speak with you because they have
something important to say, and those who are
begging or wasting time, well, you won't get far.
And if you do get anywhere
it won't last very long.

If Portia Simpson-Miller of 2006 had the same
advisers she did in 1986 or 1996 she'd still
be Prime Minister.

Crap Squared

As usual the cops pick up some guy who 'never did nothing yet'
according to his mother.
As usual they pitch him into a cell for days on end, as if
they get orgasm knowing that he's uncomfortable and his lawyer
is being lied to.

Cops In Jamaica are quite sick.
I suppose they fantasize about being Nazis...
because nothing a Ja cop likes more than denying a citizen his
liberty, save its denying him his life.

So the cops lock up a guy for a week and blah blah about ID
parade when they haven't any reason to hold him, because it
makes them feel so good.

Never Fails

You get 'spoiled brat' treatment at this business place.
You become a rabid customer.
Then, of course, there's the change.

Maybe they close the branch, maybe they change the policy,
but usually, it's the NEW Manager.

There's a difference between a Manager being moved from
X locale to Y locale, and a moron who has no personality
being made a manager.

I always get the latter.

I always get some fool who never ought have been promoted
to suddenly become the M A N A G E R and outside of insulting
me she or he has little other activity.

Then I complain to head office.

I don't know.
I think that's my purpose on Earth.
Being the one to complain.

Chisfuck

Since I came to this forsaken zoo
called Caribbean Terrance I have been subjected to various tortures.
The Head of them is an old bwoy called Chisolm.
Better known as Chisfuck.

This miserable old bastard has done everything to get me out
so he and his sometimes slam, the Mampy can capture the house
and rent out every ten feet to a different character and
get the cash.

The most recent trick was in not paying the light bill.
So the light was cut off, Melanie had to pay extra to
have it turned on.

Chisfuck showed up this morning, thinking I wasn't home,
pounding on the door like Bigfoot and when I opened it,
he nearly died, because he believed I'd gone out.
Every Saturday morning I go out.

Chisfuck gives me two bills due like on Sunday.
He got the bills about 8 days ago, sat on them,
so that I'd be put in difficulty.

Unfortunately, I can pay online.
Which I did.

Of course he doesn't know that, and must assume
that at any moment the lights will go, the water
will stop.

Why no one killed him ten years ao is just pure
laziness.

My Computer Died

My computer died last week.
I called Forge on Tuesday.
He said he'd come on Weds
He didn't.
I carried it to Roger on Thrus
He did his best.
It's on it's very last legs.

Now I have to figure out where I'm going to
get money from to get a new one.
It's 8 year old Dell laptop

Caribbean Terrace

I remember when I first came down to the Terrace to visit Lily.
Not that I thought it was Beverly Hills or Havendale
but that I accepted it as a Upper Middle Class Area.

If the Terrace ever was more than a dung heap
I never saw it.

Over the years Lily had betrayed an unhappiness.
I never realised being down here was that kind of curse.

The lure is the water and the electricity and the
garbage collection and a real address.

The draw back is living amongst souless animals.

Chisolm, who is better referred to as Chisfuck is the
paradigm of the miserable Old Bwoy.

When he can get it up he's over there by 'Miss Whyte' as
he calls her, the big fat whoring mampy.

Jamaicans are so funny, they betray themselves so easily.
Calling a pig 'Miss Whyte' as if she's worthy of respect
means she's giving him a wash off..

As Whyte is a very cheap slam she's got her customers.

There's Tinkimyoung...
this old bwoy drives a pick up blasting rap music like
he isn't dragging fifty.

Having see the young men leave their radios blasting
when they go in to slam a slut, he does too.

So for the thirty minutes he will be be slamming the slob
the radio in the cab has to be on high so that everyone
can know that Tinkimyoung is rolling on the Mampy.

I made enough noise about it so that even a moron
like Dawn Whyte would know that leaving the radio
blasting is a sign a man is slamming a slut...not his gal,
not anyone of value but a big and he knows she's a
pig and he needs everyone on the street to know he
KNOWS she's a pig.

Then there's Ugliman. Now this guy is really ugly.
She sent him up in the ackee tree last year, I
called the police.

His mouth is the loudest. He's 'one of the girls' so when
there's a Convocation of Chimpies next door, he's the
only male.

Being ugly, as ugly as the Mampy, but young, he gets to
be her toyboy. He understands that when another car
is parked in the drive, he waits.

Many times, when Chisfuck comes for his washoff, there
are cars in the drive, and he gets angry. He'll climb onto
the roof of this house to steal mangoes, having told
Melanie what a good friend he was to her father; (I never
saw him) and when Melanie came down here last time he
made himself useful.

Useful as any weasel looking for a free dollar.

He likes to send the 'gardener', a moron with a weed wacker,
who doubles as the 'plumber', so that he can split the cost
with him.

I've had my run ins with him.

On the other side is Barber. He captured a house, rents out
every square inch...which is what Lewin and Chisfuck desired
for this house.

Barber is a horny old bwoy wants to have sex with anything
female. He has a suffering wife and whore daughter who
screws his tenants and creates trouble.

He's another one likes to show ownership of this property.
He's planted in the small fenced area, along the gully sides,
he's really pathetic.

The area would have been emptied if the people weren't so
stupid. Now they wait for the next storm.