Are You My Mothers? is back after a three year hiatus in which this writer was living high in the Himalayas in an ashram. I'd wake each morning and do a sun salutation, meditate, sip organic tea, and then write for six hours straight without interruption or the little voice in my head texting, "OMG that is so not worth finishing! U should vacuum the entire ashram instead."
My first order of business is an angry little rant because I am just so pissed at Spike Lee.
Spike Lee, a successful African American with some semblance of influence and power, responds to the Trayon Martin nightmare by sitting on his arse in a cafe sipping a lowfat-decaf-half soy-latte and forwarding erroneous tweets suggesting the home of the sick and tragic Mr. Zimmerman be mobbed, and oh BTW here's his address. Only it was not the correct address it was the address of an elderly couple with the same name. Rather than chartering ten comfy buses in every major city in the country, filling those buses with angry, change and justice demanding young people, and then driving those buses to Florida so those same young people could picket the governor's mansion and the Sanford Florida police department until the truth of the Trayvon Martin case was revealed, justice won, and all lying covering-up officials resigned, Mr. Ding Dong Ditch endangered the lives of two more innocent people and then issued this statement, Oops, sorry. Or something like that.
Nice use of fame. Nice role modeling. Nice addressing the issues of racism and gun control.