The "Old Block" Tells All.

With a few obviously unfortunate and unavoidable events, that steal a woman’s choice, long before she can make it, (such as “Ravaging A Person Effortlessly”), women and girls can normally decide whether or not to relinquish their virtue, (or virginity, if it is the first time). Bad Boys will always apply unbearable pressure, and say anything and everything to get the key to that precious underground door, but the word “No!” is a locking mechanism that should deter a law-abiding Bad Boy from “kicking the door in”. It is the snake that must be avoided at all costs. Never be alone with a cold-blooded viper, without your pet mongoose, (pepper spray, stun gun, switchblade, or combat boots)! Vipers do not adhere to the laws or morals of mankind. How could they? They are not human. Vipers live under rocks and in burrows or tall grass in and out of your home. You must learn the patterns of their movements, speech, and subtle actions to avoid becoming their unwilling victim. They tend to go

  First, let’s explore what most people feel is the “upside” of cheating. Whether you are a man or a woman, if you are involved in a committed, monogamous relationship, (marriage or otherwise), any outside romantic incursions are considered cheating, (unless you have the contractual consent of your significant other; i.e. “open relationship”). If you kiss another person intimately, you have crossed the line, and are officially a cheater. (“Congrats on your demotion from the fold of the faithful!”) To a cheater, the upside of unfaithfulness is the extra, physical, emotional, psychological, and raw sexual attention the cheater is getting. Does the cheater feel sexually or emotionally neglected at home? Does the cheater seek to discover how desirable he or she is to the rest of the world? Is the cheater medically or psychologically aroused 24/7, and “required” to exercise their right to “get off” whenever the need arises? (“Got a note from your doctor?”) Is the cheater simply following

  Good girls are always a challenge for bad boys. Even a choir boy can get lucky with a bad girl! Good girls generally come from good homes, are raised by good parents, and get good grades in school. They are warned about bad boys the day after the first “bumps” appear on their chests. (Some parents attempt to hide said “bumps”, but nature prevails.) If these good parents are well-educated and have a great relationship with their good girl, they sit down and explain the pros and cons of a relationship with a bad boy. However, some good parents lack the knowledge and verbal fortitude to express the intricacies and pitfalls of bad boy tactics and leave an opportunistic opening in their good girl’s defenses, which bad boys easily and eagerly exploit. The question still remains, “Why do bad boys like good girls?” Is it simply the thrill of the hunt? Is it the pursuit of the unobtainable prize? Why don’t we ask a bad boy, and hear what he has to say? THE OLD BLOCK: “Hey, bad boy. Why

  If you look up “wife” in the Old Block Dictionary, you will find a photograph of CMB next to the word. CMB is the epitome of the word and the most exemplary definition of the word “wife”! We met online, at a now-defunct dating website called “Christian 2000”, back in 1998 or 1999, (hey, I am an old man and I cannot keep track of such things in my limited 2 terabyte memory bank)! CMB tells the story so much better than I do, but whose blog is this anyway? So, you will have to suffer through the Old Block version, until you meet CMB yourself. I developed a website with tons of photographs and classic examples of my impressive pedigree. I included a link to my website in the automated email that the website sent to CMB’s profile. She recounts that she had second thoughts about posting her desire for companionship online, and decided to close her online account shortly after logging in. However, several emails were sent to her before she could end her bid for online love. When she

  You have already seen his master-work on the mega movie screen, (who has not seen Lethal Weapon®?) His tiny footprint has also made an impact in other Hollywood hits, but that is not what has made him a living legend in the hearts and minds of the African-American community at large. He is known in Brazil as “Mestre Preto Velho”, (named after a great revolutionary Capoeira Master). He is a master in the flamboyant and deadly martial art called Capoeira, (specifically “Os Malandros de Mestre Touro”, sponsored by Tekura Jegnas, Inc.), which flies the banner of Capoeira Angola de Sao Bento Grande. (Whew! More than a mouthful to say the least.) His given name is Dennis Duane Newsome, (I call him Bro), and you have heard me casually mention his first name in connection with my BFAMs. We became BFAMs nearly 50 years ago, back in San Diego Community College. We met in a famed journalism class, taught by the incomparable Ms Dixon. Dennis asked for a volunteer to demonstrate his then fl

  We are all seeds in Papa’s Vineyard, and I am blessed to be the fateful Patriarch of this tiny vine of devoted, familial female grapes. The little one is no longer with us. No, she has not passed on to that vaporous vale of eternal sleep; however, she has been spirited away from the fold by ignorance and ill intentions. So, yes, she is lost to the Bruster Clan, (although she was never truly a Bruster, which will be explained in detail someday). However, this is an account of the ones who remain, (the little one, at least, deserved an honorable mention as her departure from the vineyard was not completely by her own design). The Bruster girls are the perfect mixture of intelligence, beauty, and dedication. They all embody the spirit of “Papa Bruster”, who has gone on to lands unknown nearly a half-century before their birth, so in truth, they never met him, or visited his earthly vineyard as I did. It is uncanny, however, that they all carry the genetic cerebral markers that mad

  Discover your own heritage, and embrace it! If you fail to discover your own family roots you will inadvertently adhere to someone else’s roots, culture, and customs. We were all created for different climates, altitudes, and geographical locations. Our chemical makeup, complexions, and bone structure dictate our propensity to survive in a given situation or environment. Knowing this vital information can add years to your already-short existence. Other human cultures may appear more flamboyant or exciting than your own, prompting you to become someone or something that you are not. Be who and what you are, at all times. Avoid the urge to conform to the masses, simply to “fit in” with the crowd. I was often alone in school, college, and the military due to my non-conformist demeanor, but I was always happy being myself. Overseas, people, (mostly female people), gravitated to me because I never drank alcohol, rented an apartment in their neighborhoods, and learned enough of thei

  Look what just pulled into my parking lot today! (No, just kidding!) The phone rang and there was a commotion in the background, (I could barely hear who was calling). The voices of giddy young women rang out with “OOH’s” and “AHH’s” ensuing. It was my “Brother From Another Mother”, Clifton C.E. W., and he had drawn a crowd of female admirers by merely parking outside my apartment. No, he is not a player, (anymore). No, he was not driving one of his fancy sports cars this time. He was just passing through on his way to San Diego, California! Here is what really pulled into my parking lot… And here is who got out, and caused the chorus of “Ooh’s” and “AHH’s”! Was it his classic “boyish” good looks that sparked the furious fuss or something sweet and tasty? The world will never know, but you are welcome to guess. Clifton has always been the flamboyant, romantic in our group of “BFAMs”. He always had the looks, cars, clothes, and smooth poetic words that magnetically attract

  Age is more than “just a number”, as the world says. Age is a testament to one's will and ability to stay relevant, strong, healthy, and wise in a world hell-bent on sending us to an early grave. In times gone by it was normal to see and interact with an octogenarian or even a centenarian, (my great-grandfather was only 82 when he passed.)  In Biblical times, (for those who believe), centuries were like decades, and those who lived long lives were viable until they expired. Today, anyone over ninety is usually feeble and must be cared for because their mental and physical faculties have waned to such a degree as to be infantile in scope. Some exceptional senior citizens have remained potent in every way imaginable, and are examples of what is possible for us all. When you cross the path of an elder, do not reflexively pity them or scoff blindly at their meager existence, instead bow or extend a show of reverence because they have paved the way for you to exist and behave in a man

  The fort was located at 9795 Garden Drive, in Hanford, California. It was a nice stretch of land with two separate dwelling places, a huge pig pen and a non-functioning well, (hence the need for a neighborhood outhouse). Water was “fetched” in four metal milk cans, and rationed out like some post-apocalyptic movie scene. (Do not ask where the water came from.) The larger dwelling belonged to P.T. Price and his wife O.C. Smith-Price. (Together, they had three children, Raymond, Shirley, and Evelyn.) O.C. Smith-Price was the birth mother of Booker T. Smith, my less-than-illustrious stepfather. When I met O.C., she was already bedridden and as cantankerous and mean as an old female pit bulldog protecting her litter. Speaking of her litter, to her they must have been above menial tasks because O.C. would always call me when she needed something basal or downright filthy done. The Price home was a real house, made of contemporary wood, plaster, and metallic materials. Our “house”, (

  What’s so doggone funny is my former life! “Adult lips on a child” is what’s so doggone funny. Outhouses and picking cotton for a living are not so funny! Growing up in the fifties as a poor, black step-son of an ex-military, migrant worker is also very unfunny. Can you imagine sitting in a man-made, wooden box situated over a temporary hole in the ground, that was full of “your guess is as good as mine”, and smells worse than “who did it and what for”? That is a childhood description of the neighborhood outhouse! “Toilet paper? What is that?” “Here, crumple up this brown paper bag a few times until it gets good and soft.” (Did I not mention the black widow spiders that lived under the seat and fed on the flies that spawned there?) Near the putrid, neighborhood outhouse was the perfect battlefield. It was cluttered with hard dirt, rocks, and various other debris.  Dirt-clod fights were a poor kid’s national pastime. You would launch a salvo of packed dirt at your pre-selected and

  Let us take a scientific approach to discovering what beauty really is. (Ladies only--guys are just spectators on this trip.) What is it that spells beauty to you? When you look in the mirror do you instantly recognize the formula for great looks? Do you require a second opinion to make up your mind about what you have discovered? Do you seek the aid of cosmetics to create the illusion of beauty? Are you naturally endowed with the classic features that you have come to know as the traits and characteristics of beauty? Has anyone who has not seen you naked or in a state of undress, raved about your natural, awe-inspiring attractive features? What were their words exactly? Do you remember each syllable, or were you caught up in the attention you were getting? Some people say, “Beauty is only skin deep.” However, it has been my experience that beauty starts within and cannot be contained by skin. It shines through, regardless of what a woman is wearing, (or not wearing). Beauty igno

  It is more than just a mathematical equation. If we as husbands could solve, dissolve, and resolve the “if factor” in those magnificent creatures that we are so blessed to call “wife”, we could discover every wonderful woman in the world in just one person. At one time, the number of women in the world eclipsed the number of men by a large margin. Today, that is not so. Players and Playboys had their pick of the litter back then, and built unsanctioned harems of internationally beautiful women all over the planet. There are still a few clusters of “Ballers”, “Players” and “Playboys” in circles that we regular guys do not and cannot infiltrate, because of financial illness. (Luckily it is not yet a terminal illness.) The sexual climate has changed drastically since those days and has evolved into something that challenges the legal, moral, and social systems to keep up or be trampled under the stampeding hooves of carnal insurrection. Gone are the days of men only seeking women as sex