Saturday, December 13, 2008

Obama Smokes

The President Elect smokes! Does anyone care? I do. In fact I'm in complete agreement with Ron Rosenbaum of The Spectator: Let President Obama smoke! I can't think of any job more stressful than leader of the free world. And I don't want our dear President Obama having a nicotine fit while he's trying to fix this maisma he's inherited. He's over 21 and cigarettes are legal. Enough said.
Here's some hilarious links I just had to share:

  1. Let Obama smoke cigarettes in the White House. - By Ron Rosenbaum ...

    Dec 10, 2008 ... Let me offer a somewhat hyperbolic hypothetical. It's the winter of 2009, and a crisis has erupted between the United States and the former ...
    www.slate.com/id/2206445/ - 40k - Cached - Similar pages -
  2. ABC News: Obama: Marlboro Man for President

    Feb 8, 2007 ... Don't tell anyone I told you, but Barack Obama smokes cigarettes -- can you believe it? No, I'm not actually suggesting it's breaking news ...
    abcnews.go.com/Politics/BothSidesAllSides/story?id=2859514 - Similar pages -
  3. WikiAnswers - What brand of cigarettes did Barack Obama smoke

    Barack Obama question: What brand of cigarettes did Barack Obama smoke? Newports fo sho my dude!
    wiki.answers.com/Q/What_brand_of_cigarettes_did_Barack_Obama_smoke - 44k - Cached - Similar pages -
  4. Obama And Cigarettes: No Smoking Violations In The White House (VIDEO)

    Dec 7, 2008 ... Are cigarettes some kind of "gateway drug now?" If PE Obama continues to smoke and does so in his new home, is he just one step away from ...
    www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/12/07/obama-and-cigarettes-no-s_n_149078.html - 155k - Cached - Similar page

Friday, December 12, 2008

Degrees of Corruption

I am so tired of watching the screwy senator from Illinois on the news. I'm much more concerned about American entering the worst economic era since the Great Depression. How different is this guy from the lobbyists and special interest groups who've had a hand in our politics for the last eight years? As far as I'm concerned it's just six degrees of separation -- like someone robbing a liquor store or robbing a bank. It's all robbery. And it's all corrupt. Furthermore, this nut doesn't have the potential to impact my life the way three major auto moguls declaring bankruptcy and putting millions more out of work does. I'm much more concerned about health care -- which I don't have. Paying my bills. Eating. My childrens' future. Global warming...I could go on and on.

Get the senator some therapy and let's get back to discussing the real issues.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Movies Today

Is it just me, or is every one else sick to death of seeing film stars (especially women) who look like they were just airbrushed out of a magazine? Sometimes I miss the films of the 1960s and 70s when movies were populated by actors and actresses who looked like people I'd pass on the street. It lent a certain credibility to films. And come on face it -- do you really have to be breathtakingly beautiful to find happiness? Or Love? Or success?

Sunday, December 7, 2008

Down Home Ecstasy
(In tribute to Muddy Waters)

Listen to the Blues
Charcoal black sweet, sweat sinews
Broad, powerful

Sunset of smudged peach,
purple and orange
Cotton dresses

Brother testify with a harmonica
Make it preach
Baby, do your thing

Boss man’s gone
Now, here is love and rhythm
Here is pathos in wailing song

A woman lounges
A child’s head in her lap

Heads thrown back
Spines arched and proud

Can’t you hear
Song give birth?
Can’t you hear that cry
Like throaty thunder?
Can’t you feel its caress
Sultry and strong?

Blackness pure, undiluted Like well water
Dipped up to a pair of full lips
Pouring down a long graceful neck

Ain’t nothing like the Blues

Copywrite 2007 Valjeanne Jeffers-Thompson all rights reserved
First appeared in Pembroke Magazine Issue 39, 2007

Specter/Part 2

Karla’s eyes flew open -- the scream caught in her throat. It’s just a nightmare. I’m
Ok. I’m here now, at home.

The Indigo woman turned her head to look at the bedroom console. Six-thirty AM glowed on the screen. She scooted out of bed, picked up a remote from the nightstand and turned off the alarm.
Karla walked across the wooden floor of her living area into a kitchenette. A press of her fingers on the first sphere of a triangular pod, started coffee brewing.
She filled a cup with chicory, walked back into the living area and pushed the second button on her remote, activating a blue panel beside the window. Jazz music filled the apartment. Like her bedroom console the unit kept time, transmitted holographic images, and played tapes. Using the third button, she opened the curtains.
Curled upon her futon, the Indigo woman watched as the illuminae changed Topaz’s violet sky into a mellow shade of peach. She thought of the dreams.
For as far back as Karla could remember, she’d had them. Otherworldly, exquisite and always with an unsettling clarity so different from the normal phantasms she read about. When I eat, I wake up full -- and stay that way until lunchtime. If somebody hits me, it hurts like hell…
And her dream lover left her limp with satisfaction, even after she awoke, sure he was still beside her.
At night Karla wrote them down, pouring all of her fears and desires into the notebooks. She spent hours in the library, reading stories of reincarnation and demonic possession, searching for answers. She’d found them too -- dozens of them. But none could satisfy the yearning that burned inside her.

Every time she closed her eyes to sleep they beckoned, calling to her. Mornings, she awoke like a swimmer who’d been underwater for too long, grasping for the fabric
of reality -- moaning with pleasure or trembling with exhilaration.
One night they’re going to swallow me whole. I’ll never wake up or maybe I’ll just fall through to whatever’s on the other side…and this new one, something’s different about it. I know the others, but this one -- this one scares me so bad I’m afraid to sleep.
“What time is it?”
The top left knob of her console blinked. “The time is 7:00 am,” a pert, female voice replied.
Seven o’clock! I’d better hustle! Karla gulped down her coffee, and hurried back into the bedroom to dress.
Tehotep watched the tall, slender woman thumb through her closet. He wasn’t invisible, only dim. As long as he stayed in the shadows, she couldn’t see him. But noise couldn’t be cloaked by magic.
The Indigo woman tossed a red knit, shirt and jeans on the bed, slipped off her pajamas and walked into the bathroom. As she stepped into the shower, the nozzle automatically clicked on, spraying her body with water. He followed, standing just beyond the doorway

Karla finished bathing, and Tehotep quickly moved back into the shadows -- all the while devouring her with his eyes. Her skin, dewy with moisture, looked like melting
chocolate her nipples, blackberries

She toweled off her full breasts and long legs, and he licked his lips, imagining the things he would do with her -- to her -- the endless perversions he’d force her to submit to. Things she’d come to enjoy, when she tried to please him.
The young woman walked into the bedroom. He watched her pull up her panties, hook her bra, slip her arms into the straps. Image after image flooded his mind. Tehotep felt himself harden, a soft groan escaped his lips...
Karla froze, then stared into the corner facing her bed. It’s only a bunch of dirty clothes, you’re hearing things!
In that instant, he appeared. An Indigo man with full lips, slanting onyx eyes and a shaven head. Voluminous garments hung from his muscular frame. Their eyes locked, and she gasped in recognition. The dark man smiled, nodded his head…
And vanished.
Karla gazed at the pile of laundry -- all that remained of him -- and wondered if she’d lost her mind. With trembling hands she finished dressing for work, her thoughts scurrying about like rats in a maze. It’s him! I didn’t imagine it! He was here, but that’s impossible --!
There was a knock at the door, and she jumped. Get it together girl, that’s the twins.
She walked into the living room, picked up her remote and pointed it at the entrance. It slid open and the eight-year-old twins, Carlos Jr. and Ashley, small and brown like their

mother, ran inside. Ashley’s shoulder length braids were tied off with ribbons.
“Good morning Karla,” they sang in unison, hugging her.
“Good morning love bugs. What do you want for breakfast?”
”Waffles,” said Ashley.
Carlos Jr. flapped his hand at his sister. “You always want waffles. Make mine French toast.”
When Karla and the twins’ mother had first become friends, Tatiana and Carlos were both working nights, and she’d offered to make breakfast for their children during the week. That was two years ago.
Now Tatiana worked during the day as a beautician, although her mate still worked evening shifts at the metal emporium. But fixing meals for the twins had become a habit Karla didn’t want to break. She was crazy about them, and Topaz’s food prices were next to nothing.
“Coming right up.” The dark woman took milk and breakfast pellets from her cold box, and slid the nuggets into a diamond shaped oven. In twenty seconds, they expanded with heat.
“Done,” the oven announced. The children sat at the table, just outside the kitchenette.
Karla served them, walked into the living area and took a cipher from the wooden box on the coffee table. She lit it and puffed nervously, combing her fingers through her short, wavy hair.
“Smoking is stinky,” Ashley pronounced, her mouth full of waffles.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” How did he get in my apartment? Piss on that! How
did he get out?

Sunday, October 12, 2008

SPECTER/Chapter 1 (excerpt)

She was in the basement again. It was pitch black, the only illumination a glowing, quarter moon etched into the floor. A burst of light split the darkness, and she moaned low in her throat.

Please, I don’t want to see anymore…I don’t want to look.

Yet her feet moved of their own volition, inching toward the mark…and the twisted bundle now lying in its center. A man was curled upon the stone. He wasn’t breathing, and his limbs were tiny and withered. But she knew he wasn’t dead.

He wasn’t human.

The daemon opened his eyes. I’ve been sleeping. But for how long? He could feel his arms and legs, but the sensations were muted as if they’d traveled from a great distance.

Then he remembered. He’d been imprisoned -- snatched from his body by the magic that had trapped him here. Even now sleep, like a delicious drug, threatened to overtake him. But he fought it away.

How many centuries would pass while he slept?

A doorway appeared in his mind and just beyond it, a tattered clump of flesh and

Copyright 2007 Valjeanne Jeffers-Thompson all rights reserved

Saturday, October 11, 2008

IMMORTAL/chaper 1 (sneek peak)

Dressed in breeches and sandals, Joie rode through the forest of his ancestors. The illuminae filtered through the trees, sketching filigrees in the mulch below.

The warrior was tall, with reddish brown skin, almond eyes and high cheekbones. Jet black hair hung loosely about his shoulders. Silver and turquoise rings dangled from his ears and wrists.Joie was half asleep, his muscular thighs loosely gripping the mare’s flanks, for she knew the way to their favorite stream better than he did.
They reached the brook and he dismounted, kneeled and splashed water upon his face and neck, finally cupping a pool in his hands to drink.
“Joseph…” He glanced around, instantly wary. The forest was teaming with supernatural life -- and not all of it friendly.Among the most dangerous were Wood Sprites -- forest succubae that took the form of human women to capture men. Their victims slowly starved to death, losing all grasp of time as they languished in their captor’s embrace.

A mahogany shaded woman emerged from the grove of trees to his right. She had a wide nose, full lips and was dressed in a thigh length garment made entirely of overlapping feather. Her kinky hair was braided atop her head. Gold ornaments hung from her ears, neck and arms.She had the voluptuous body of a young girl.

But her large dark eyes held knowledge no girl could ever possess, and she had all the earmarks of a preternatural creature -- though friend or enemy, Joie couldn’t tell.He decided not to stay and find out. In one fluid motion the warrior rose, and leaped on to his horse...

IMMORTAL Copyright 2007 Valjeanne Jeffers-Thompson all rights reserved.

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