Everyone else does dead better
Dead Peoples’ Opinions Do Not Matter More
Don’t do the BS the dead want you to do
Breast Stories Are the Best
Amy Sea, you know I love you and all of your breast stories. You are the only person I know with a publication dedicated entirely to breasts. I use your publications and stories to keep my breasts in top nipple condition; they are full, round, with well-tipped nipples that look like chocolate milk because of you. I thank you for that titty knowledge. But you are wrong that dead people’s opinions matter more than live ones. Obviously, you don’t have many dead crazy ancestors.
I am not lucky enough to have a Granny Mary like Gary Chapin who just answers questions in English. Oh no, my ancestors come to me in my dreams, forcing me to interpret what they are trying to tell me to do. Many of my ancestors died young as they were first enslaved people, then freed sharecroppers, and finally second-class citizens. These folks are angry. And believe you me, they got some wild shit in mind.
When I visited family-owned land down in Mississippi, where my family owns the land where there used to be slave owners who owned my people — I dreamed I took a long black whip and made all the white people at my job pick cotton until their fingers bled.
A Long Thick Black Whip
I woke up; I went straight to a hidden place under the house where I found a long, heavy black whip. When I put the whip in my hand, it felt good. I could tell it was balanced. You could put a “whoop” on someone with that thing.
I was glad there were no white people around because I would have hit them to try that whip out. It was hard, but I put the whip back where I found it. I do not need an artifact like that in my life. The white people around me might not appreciate being hit with a whip every time I saw one of them.
I went back to my hometown of Chicago. I had two dreams, both about food. My ancestors were hungry in Chicago. In the first dream, I am driving an ice cream truck. I give out free ice cream to every person who comes up to the truck and tells me a joke. If they did not have a joke, they got a big smile and a free freeze pop. When I woke up from this dream, I went to the shed in the back of my mom’s house to find an ice shaving cone cart. I made everyone in the house delicious ice cones that evening.
Sneak-Burning Houses
In the second dream, I gave a huge fish fry for the Southside of Chicago. But it was a fish fry with a twist. To get into the fish fry, you had to prove that you did not allow the city of Chicago to enter the minority neighborhoods by selling your home for tremendous amounts of money. Once we have everyone in the fish fry, we take red paint and mark every sold house. For the houses owned by white people, we honor those as “colonizers.”
When I wake up from that dream, my mouth is dry, and my head hurts. I think that later that night, some of those houses burned down. No, wait. That is not my thought. Get out of my head, you vengeful dead people. We don’t go around sneak-burning people’s homes now, do we?
My ancestors are about these things — trying to get even with many people. I wonder what would happen if I was to ask their dead-ass opinion of anything that I am doing. I bet the “whip all the white people’s ancestor” could advise me on my work relationships.
Then the “give away all products for a laugh and a smile ancestor” could help me with my finances. Perhaps I could pay my mortgage with ice cream. The “burn-down people’s homes” ancestor could help me with real estate decisions.
So no, Amy Sea. Not all dead ancestors are like Granny Mary. Some are trying to take vengeance for long-ago issues. We don’t want them giving us an opinion right now, maybe in a few years, ha-haha, but not right now. Everyone would know it was me.
Thank you, Amy Sea for the editing assistance.
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