I wanna break this down simply and hopefully, swiftly, on what I figure freedom is. That’s a little word that means big things to different folk. I’m gonna hand this to you somewhat from a woman’s point of view though ’cause I thoroughly enjoy being one most of the time. I mean, sometimes I wish I was a bird or a horse, if you wanna know the truth of the matter. But being that I’m neither, I’m gonna clarify this word called freedom to you and you can take what you want from it.
Freedom, to me, is free. Period. If there’s any negotiation of any sort, it may very well be called something else. If it doesn’t sound anything like free to you, then you’ve stumbled on yourself a sale, basement bargain, half off, or perhaps a shady ass deal. As I see it from some of my female parts, freedom is all of the following for me:
- If I’m in my car and I hear a song that turns me on to sing, damn folk for telling me to quiet down. If you don’t particularly care for my singing, why the hell you get in the car in the first place? You know how I am! I should be able to take whatever liberties I please in my own car, where a good amount of my dollars go into the tank you’re not contributing to!
- I don’t know about you but there’s some hot weather down in this south. I pay a good little penny for association fees where I live. I keep my yard up. Most times I do it myself for a little exercise and I tend to go thrifty sometimes. I feel I should be able to go out there and cut my grass butt ass naked! I do. My tittie area gets to sweating underneath all those clothes, they do. If a restaurant up in New York can open for business and people can go in there and eat naked around all that food being served, I feel like I should hold a rally in my neighborhood to keep my yard up in nothing but my bare skin and a pair of sneakers. Besides, I haven’t been here that long and I want to know my neighbors and them to know me. I’m sure I’ve got myself a twin spirit thinking along the same lines, they just haven’t brought it up at the meeting yet. So, Totsy to the rescue!
- During that awful time of the month (pardon me, fellas but it’s life), I shouldn’t gain not one single pound for eating those 30 or 50 chocolate chip cookies I went to get at one in the morning. If cramping is part of the package (which I thankfully don’t get but I’m looking out for those who do), I should be able to whoof down that bag and some ice cream should my cravings call for it, without being pissed off ’cause I can’t button up my pants all the way a week later.
- When my beau friend (or how the hell ever I want to classify him at the time) gets on my last damn nerve and starts cuttin’ up, just like my car needs to go to the shop when it breaks down, I should be able to take his ass somewhere to get fixed for free, with a one year warranty. If he’s still actin’ up, I should be able to park his ass in the make-me-damn-sick lot and shop for a new model. To hell with a lemon! I won’t hardly get good mileage on him no damn way!
- As a mother, a personal chef and maid should be provided at the cost of the government. I know damn well they can borrow more money from China to stimulate my time some other way. Hell, they practically own us anyway! There’s no way I should be cleaning house, I don’t care if it is mine, after a hard day’s work. Plus, I’ve got other things I could be doing around here, like getting a massage and watching Dr. Phil (I love that bald head man, y’all). And lest not forget, I’m raisin’ up Little Totsy and I could be spending time with her. Is she not the future I should be investing more time in?
- I think it’s a shame to have to go to the grocery store to buy so-called clean water to drink. If I’m paying for it at the house and the county calls themselves cleaning it, I should be able to bottle up me some shit and sell it in my local grocery store for a nice profit. Matter of fact, if Betty from down the street can make a slammin’ apple pie in her kitchen, she should be able to bake up some shit and sell her stuff too. No need to be getting shit shipped from all these other places. There are folk with plenty of skills in our own backyard who can supply these stores to cut all those shipping charges. Now, what’s that got to do with [free]dom? Well, I love me some apple pie and I’d have to catch them pies ‘fore they made it to the store to get Betty to hook me up and maybe I could hand over a bottle or two of water to her.
- Now, don’t go to thinking I’m preaching ’cause I’m not hardly one to be behind some virtual pulpit but I always ponder myself and try to step in other folk shoes occasionally. And y’all grown folk but I’m gonna stretch out here and let y’all know I’m no animal lover. Matter of fact, I’m scared of most dogs and cats. Seriously. Though, I’m not a hater either but since we’re talking along these lines of freedom, I say let them other breathing things be. Just this millisecond, I got to thinking on how I would feel if somebody hunted me down, popped a cap in my backside, fried my ass up in a skillet and shitted me out.
Hey, I hope I didn’t keep you too long. I’m sure you can add a plethora of ideas to this freedom bill I’m seriously thinking to propose to my local congressman. Maybe you can throw some of your ideas this way and we can be a united front on this.
Whether you’re on tour with Blogalicious or not, I want you to meet Janu, She’s real good people and comes with references. If you take the back road from there, you’ll find Bryan, who’s got some things going on at his place. I think he’s having a fish fry over there. Go on now and close the door behind you.