Bodhizattva420's blog: "The Photograph"

Right now I believe I'm being tested. So are you. Is it right that a government can send our friends and family to some God forsaken hell hole but I can't write the word fuck in a newspaper editorial to be seen. I'm not saying the word in a context to which a child might see it, and if they do just so happen to see this word they should know what it is and respect it. Not just let it loose in a flurry of obscenity. Words are undefinable that way, and they're just not that effective. You see, we're human beings, and we've been put here for a reason. Some are to undermined the capacity of thought for other people. You're being told to shut up and you are. Good monkey. Now, go buy something and say to yourself, "The United States is a land of freedom." I've also heard the phrase, speaking of freedom, "Freedom isn't free." Well, if it isn't free, it isn't freedom now is it? Don Imus, don't really know the man, lost his job over his use of the phrase "nappy-headed hos" that was directed toward the Rutgers women's basketball players. First off, I don't know where this comes off as racist, because Katie Adams, a guard on the team, and Heather Zurich, a forward, are in fact what most refer to as White. The term nappy means several things, including a diaper, a small shallow dish, liquor, or kinky hair. I don't know about you, but there's been times I woke up in the morning and my hair was nappy. Could barely get a brush through it without ripping out hair. So why was this turned into a race issue? Now to the second part, calling them a ho. I saw a movie a while back called Roadhouse and it summed up this little debate fairly quick when it came to being called a name: Steve:Being called a cocksucker isn't personal? Dalton: No. It's two nouns combined to elicit a prescribed response. Steve: What if somebody calls my mama a whore? Dalton: Is she? Two nouns combined to elicit a prescribed response, or one in some cases, can end your career if you aren't the thing you just said. With that said, you can't be White and say nigger. Totally offensive, but Lenny Bruce did it, and he was White and Jewish. He was trying to break past the word barrier. We're not words.. we're human beings. It's these "words" that keep us from coming together... words are seperating us everyday. Most are allowing it to be done because they don't want to choose the word that might offend. If you're offended, then you're the one with the problem. Take the word bitch. A term for a female dog. Most of the women I know call themselves bitches, but don't want you saying it or calling them one. It's alright for Carlos Mencia to go on television and talk about people of all kinds, even retarded or should I say mentally challenged, people. Where's the difference there? Is it because he's Mexican? I could keep going, but you know what I'm saying.. sort of.

"Whoever owns that photograph," the old man said shuffling by, "is said to be haunted by the spirits." Greg just smiled at this, looking down at the photograph. It was a black and white picture taken maybe fifty or sixty years ago of an old cemetery. The junk shop the old man owned on the side of the road had all kinds of cool stuff in it, but there was something more to this picture. "Where was this place?" Greg asked the old man. All the old man did was smile, "Tell you what..you can have it, as long as you burn it after.." He stops himself and lets out a small laugh and coughs while walking into the back part of the shop. Looking back down at the picture, Greg feels a cold chill. "Thanks for the picture," he says and walks out to his car. He sits the picture next to him in the car and for some reason he can't keep his eyes off of it. Suddenly, his cell phone rings, startling him. Smiling at himself, he answers it. "Hello baby," he says to his girlfriend. "How's your trip?" she asks. "Not too bad. I found this old junk store on the side of the road about twenty miles from the house," he tells her. "You didn't buy anything did you? You are the world's worst pack rat." He laughs, "Angie, all I got was this black and white picture of a cemetery." "And I bet it was expensive," she says sounding irritated. "Actually, the old man just gave it to me." "Sounds a little weird. So, how far are you?" "I'm right outside town," he says. "Well then I'll see you in a little while," she says. "I love you," he says to her. "I love you too Greg," she says and hey both hang up. The small subdivision had just been built and crews were working on a few more houses as he rounds the corner and pulls into his driveway. He grabs his briefcase and the photograph when he notices the front door open. Thunder rumbles in the background as black clouds build quickly and before he has a chance to get to the walkway he's drenched with rain. Running inside, he looks for his girlfriend and can't find her. He puts the briefcase down and hears someone whispering his name. When he turns around he sees the photograph, and there are people coming out of the ground. He can hear them moaning and groaning. He shuts the door and looks back at the photo. Now, the people are totally out of the ground and walking toward him in the picture. The pounding starts on the doors, then the windows.. but nothing is there. He grabs the photo and now they're almost right up in full view. Rotted. Decaying. He can smell them. Gagging he runs to toward the bathroom to find his girlfriend dead and walking toward him. "They built the house on their ground," she says with blood running down her neck, "and now they want you!" She lunges at him and he knocks her away. Glass breaking and shuffling feet let him know they've made it into the house. He tries to barricade himself in the bathroom while Angie slams into the door and is joined soon by others. He takes the lighter out of his pocket and begins to burn the photo when Angie makes it through the door followed by several other zombies.. when he wakes up screaming in his hotel room. Driving back home that ay he passes the old junk shop, which is almost totally dilapidated. He hears the old man laugh just as the phone rings, startling him.