I always look at that picture and think it's a baby suckin’ a black woman's teet - she just slipped up her shirt and wet-nursed her masa's baby right there in town square!  Damn, that got her some lashin's, but...thems were the days.  Ya'll white folks could get away with that.  Why, I remember mama always used to tell me I had "good skin" -- what she meant o’ course, was that I was light and yeh couldn't tell so much that I was negro.  Yep, heh, no one said nigga back then but the white men - we, we was proud ta say negro ta one anotha.

Ol' Anny Chutland down the road, she got in a right mess one day.  Her father kicked her out cos'a her fornicatin' ass, and she had no where ta go - so she broke inta this fella's house, and took his radio, and she went to the pawn shop to pawn it, but ended up just usin' it ta hit the man ova' the head and rob the place!  Heh, oh Anny.  
Anotha time we’s-a walkin' down 11th street, and we passed this white-man.  A real nice white man - y'know?  Like the kind you see nowadays on CTV News?  mmmMMM!  Damn that Matt Johnson sure does boil my cabbage!  ...Ahm, anyway, and we passed this fella, and he was bigga than her, see.  An' he look down and just STARE right inta her breasts like it was some kinda black hole!  He right near stuck his whole damn face in!
And you know what Anny did?!
She pushed out her chest, and grabbed him by the back o' his head and just stuffed him right in there anyway!
We – Hehehehe – We was laughin' all the way home!  They way he looked when she took him outa there, it was like nobody eva' came close to givin' him that much action since he suckled his mama's titties!

Oh, there we are again, back to them titties.  I think I must’a got stuck in some Breast-phase – didn’t Freud say somethin’ about dat?  I dunno, I’m old, I got no business in tellin’ others their business these days.  
I used ta be able to tell everyone what they shoulda be’n doin’.  Respected I was, yes-indeedy.  They came ta me saying “Dee-dee, I need yer help.  Is’a been wit’ a man, and what if he becomes the fatha o’ my child?  Tell me, Dee-dee, tell me. I need yer advice.”  And I’d tell ‘em the Good Lord wouldn’t want ‘em doin’ anything rash, like.  But, at the same time, I’d hafta tell her what she done was a sin, and not just some’um she can say a few Hail Mary’s and it’d go ‘way.  No-sirrie-bob, that’s something she’s gonna go ta hell fer if she don’t do a whole lota’ praying and whole lota’ lovin’.   Jesus, that is.  She don’t’ need any more lovin’ from men, hahaha.
Oh, I’m just playin’.  You know that right?  I loved that girl like she was my sista – I’d help her outa any trouble, just as she helped me outa my trouble too.  
Yep…

The internet! oOh, the internet these days.  Such a crazy thing.  I’m not sure if I like it so much though – I know it does a lotta good, but I also think it does a lotta bad too.  I guess ya gotta ask yerself: Does the amounta shit it done good enough to make up fo’ all that porno and killin’ videos and Wiccan websites.  What is that?  Tell me – what is that?  In my day, we didn’t allow no pagan devil-worshipers to start their little cults all ova’ our town.  I tell you, this one woman down the street, Marla Evans, she usedta do some sorta witch-doctorin’ Africa-totin’ mumbjo jumbo and I-dunno-all-what!  I’m all for the black freedom and such – hell, I am back – but what I got ta say here is no joke.
God don’t like no Voodoo shit!  You do dat, he gon cast you down ta the pits o’ hell, where them satan-worshippers belong, AMEN!
I dunno where that Marla is today – if she dead, I pitty her soul.  If she alive, she probably still workin’ that witch-doctor-leprosy-clinic outa the back o’ her house.  I dunno which is worse.

So I was talkin’ ta my grandson online today.  He showed me how ta use this fangledy thing his momma gave me for my birthday this year –  a “webcam”?  Would’a liked a Kettle and some sweet teas just as nice.  But I was talkin’ ta that boy, and he’s-a sayin’ all sorts o’ jibberish with his “u” and “omg” and “lol”  I didn’t know a darn thing he was saying.  And then starts tryin’ ta teach me – ta gimme the translations, and I’m just sittin’ here thinkin’:  Wouldn’t it just be faster to type the way yeh normally write and not have to translate everything for me?  He didn’t get it.  Kids these days.
My own kids are long grown up and moved on now.  God bless ‘em.  It’s nice ta know they’re doin’ okay on their own…course, it also couldn’t kill them ta call their poor lonely mama a little more often.  How busy can ya be that ya can’t spare an hour e’ery few nights ta call yer momma, an’ see how she’s doin’.  I dunno what theys thinkin’.  They-a thinkin’ I have plenty ta do all day, livin’ here alone an’ such?  They-a thinkin’ that I don’t have enough time ta sit around an’ watch Bob Barker?!  They’sa thinkin’ a 24-inch monitor, so I can see them bigga on the webcam makes up fer MISSIN’ CHRISTMAS?!?!?!
…
I’m sorry…  I’m sorry.  I’m not yellin’ at’cha.  I’m sorry.  I just don’t get to talk ta people often, and when I do, I never can talk about my problems ‘n’ such, and sometimes, they just…erupt out of me, like the Burnin’ Bush.  
Ever since me husband died, I be’n a little off.  My chillen say it’s not natural ta be so happy for no reason all the time.  I tell ‘em it takes more muscles to frown than it does ta smile.  I know I got my problems, but it ain’t like everyone else ain’t gots theys own problems too, right?

I should thank ya fer sittin’ here wit’ me t’day.  It’s be’n a while since anyone’s taken the time ta listen ta my stories.  When ya get old yerself, ye’ll see: friends, they die out after a while.  An’ Anny, well she’s long buried in some cemetery outside the city.  
I went out there ta visit her one time the other month, an’ you know what?  Some punk-ass kids is out there vandalizin’ those graves an’ spray paintin’ theys names all over our G.D. ancestors.  It ain’t no fancy neighbourhood er nothin’, but damnit, don’ they have respect fer the dead?  If I’d eva caught my chillen doin’ some’un like that, I’d’ve tanned they hides so dark, you’d’a thought they were straight outa Africa.
Anyway, I think I got a touch o’ a head-ache comin’ on.  Maybe I’ll see ya ‘round again some time.  Right now, I gotta go retire ta my room fer my afternoon nap.  It’s be’n nice talkin’ wit’cha.