My problem with these "White guys dating Black girls" pages:

It bothers me that there are these white boys dating black girls pages and blogs all over the place and it is difficult to find of the ones other way around. It proves my point that white women are coveted and black women are fetishized. Yeah there are a few blogs that highlight black men with white women, but look at the popularity differences .. It’s nothing like the other. It paints this picture that dating a white dude puts you in this special place but its not special at all. Now I mean.. love who you love, there’s nothing wrong with that. If you’re totally committed to being with someone, and you love them, no matter what ethnicity, be with them and don’t let anyone mess with what you have.. But if you’re not that serious about it, I’m talking to you. I’m saying that there’s a whole serious difference between a black girl bringing home a white guy and a white girl bringing home a black guy. It’s a known fact and a whole problem. It’s problematic when I have an uncle who married a white woman and because of the marriage, her parents didn’t associate with them for years. It is problematic when black boys are STILL getting murdered for dating white girls. (Look up 17 y/o Lennon Lacy)… But that’s America. It is all transcending from the *Willie Lynch Letter*.
Bet money that if you’re a black woman and dating a white boy, you’ve been asked by other black girls “hey, how do I get with a white guy? What did you do?” I just want to know why? What the big deal? Why is it such a big goal to get a white man?
A lot of black men are too brainwashed. Because of Willie Lynch, society and the pedal stool that white women are held on, a lot of us are sucked into thinking that we have to have one. It’s like when you were a child and your parents told you that you couldn’t have soda or candy or something.. Didn’t that make you want it more? You’d see candy and soda commercials and ads and go crazy. It didn’t even have to be a top of the line brand of soda or candy, you would have done anything for an rc cola or a candy bracelet. There’s coca cola, Pepsi, Reese’s and starburst out there but you’re itching for the whack brands. Whole time, candy and soda are bad for you and you don’t need to be eating it anyways. It’s different and that’s all that matters. Ask a black guy why he likes white women so much.. Ask him why he won’t date black women… Wait for a logical answer….. This also applies to the romanticism of light skin. Anything as close to white as possible is ideal and anything dark is a no no.
Black guys are seen more like as prop or a tool. It is like the only way it’s cool is if they are talking about sex and the black guy has a big black cock(bbc) like we are just animals or something. Idk I’m not with it at all. I’m still doing my research, and I need to be more clear, but thank you to who offered their insight. Maybe I’m too pro-black to understand the hype. Maybe because I look at my mom, sister, grandmothers, aunts, step mother, friends and I see so much beauty, love and strength that I believe in our women wholeheartedly. Idk maybe it’s just because black women relate to me better. I just can’t see it. I’m not with it.

Review - Not My Father's Son: A Memoir by Alan Cumming


I’ve read my share of celebrity memoirs in the past (maybe, embarrassingly, more than I’d like to admit), so when I was given the opportunity to score an advanced reader copy of Alan Cumming’s memoir I jumped on it. Past experiences had left me with the expectation of a read that would be either a string of personal vignettes that aren’t very connected or emotionally engaging to funny but impersonal and on to the extremely narcissistic. Asking for this book, I hoped for something closer to the first variety, maybe examining the journey of a man coming in to his bisexuality and fame. What I never expected at all was the almost immediate punch in the emotional gut that was this memoir.

Cumming really dashed my expectations (and I’m glad for it). While his sexuality was present (bisexuality is named once and his former marriage to Hilary Lyon and his husband Grant Shaffer are both important components of the story he shares), this wasn’t a memoir that lingered with any real focus on that, or on the vagaries of his fame. Instead we have a deeply personal, and deeply engaging, exploration of Cumming’s relationship with and understanding of his deeply abusive father set amongst his personal journey to better understand a familial mystery set around his maternal grandfather and his mysterious death in post WWII Malaysia.

As a man who has also spent his entire life in a complicated non-relationship with an abusive father, this book drew me in like no other. The absolutely frank discussions of his father’s abuse, of the inner mind of an abused child, of his depression, his struggles with an eating disorder, his break downs, his triumphs and his tears are all so honest and engaging I think it would tug at the empathy of any who would read it. This is by far the most non-celebrity celebrity memoir I’ve ever picked up, and I’m so very thankful for it.

In the bisexual community (as in many others), representation is so vital to us, so sought after. I think it’s truly important to have also found non-sensationalized representation for victims of abuse, particular parental abuse. So many of our numbers have struggled with abuse. I for one am thankful for this memoir, for this representation. But for the fame, this could be my story. It could be any of ours.



Hello Friends and well-wishers!

The above is a 2-page excerpt from my book Tomboy, about how having a December birthday can be a real bummer, especially when you’re a kid who wants all the presents and attention.  Today is my 33rd birthday, and I still want that Ninja Turtle, dammit.

And since today is my annual birthday (crazy how that keeps happening every year) every year I have only one birthday wish: if you’ve enjoyed my comics over the years, please share them with your friends and/or family!  

This year is a doubly special opportunity for you to spread the word, because I had TWO books come out in 2014!  The first was Alone Forever: The Singles Collection, published by Top Shelf Productions in February, and the second was Tomboy: A Graphic Memoir, published by Zest Books a few months ago.  How can you let your friends know about these books?  I have some suggestions:

You can post about them on facebook, twitter, or tumblr (or livejournal, myspace, and friendster).  You can buy a copy of them for yourself if you haven’t already.

You can buy a copy for a friend as a gift (incidentally I am selling signed versions for the holidays on my website (shameless plug, oh wait, this whole post is a shameless plug)  

If you’ve read ANY of my books, and you haven’t done so already, you can rate and review them on Goodreads:, because getting the numbers up on reader review sites MATTERS in today’s internet-driven consumer culture (that’s a sentence I never thought I’d type, but I’m literally older and wiser today).

But mostly, I want to extend my gratitude to all of my readers for putting their eyeballs on my comics: it is so rewarding to make the work I want to make, and have people appreciate it.  Everyone should eat a cookie today to celebrate; you’ve earned it.

The art of conducting is paradoxical, for its skills range from the mechanical to the inspirational. A conductor can be a semaphore endowed with artificial intelligence, or an illuminating spirit of music. The derisive assertion that ‘anyone can conduct’ is literally true—musicians will play no matter how meaningless or incoherent the gestures of a baton wielder may be. In this respect, conductors stand apart from other performers. A violinist, even a beginner, must be able to play on pitch with a reasonable degree of proficiency. A pianist must have enough technical skill to get through a piece with a minimum of wrong notes. But a conductor is exempt from such obligations. He does not have to play—he orders others to play for him. Stories about inept conductors are legion. One conductor lost his place while leading an overture. ‘Where are we? Where are we?’ he whispered frantically to the leader. ‘Carnegie Hall, New York,’ the other replied. In his attempt to impress an orchestra by his keen ear, a certain conductor put an extra sharp in the third horn part in a tutti passage. At the first rehearsal he stopped the orchestra at the designated spot and proclaimed imperiously: ‘Third horn, C-natural, not C-sharp!’ The musician replied matter-of-factly, ‘Yes, some damned fool put C-sharp in my part, but I know the music, and I played C-natural all right!’ Another conductor, intent on showing his mastery of the score, kept interrupting rehearsals with pompous observations, until the leader stood up and said, ‘Listen, mister! If you go on making such remarks, we will follow your beat at the concert!’ This was an ominous threat to the arrogant conductor. Then there is the one about a conductor who was in the habit of running off the podium with the last chord. He miscalculated the number of concluding chords in one particular overture, however, and ran off before the end. The orchestra gave him a loud send-off with two more chords.
—  Nicolas Slonimsky, Perfect Pitch: A Life Story (1988), 133

So for Napoleon’s anniversary I decided to make a post with links to a limited selection of books about him. I’m not discovering nothing new, since all of them are on the public domain, but I think a post were they are reunited can be useful for those interested on the napoleonic era. There is much more out there, you only have to search for them, either at the Internet Archive, Google books or Gallica.

- Correspondence

Napoleon’s own writings and letters are, of course, the first source if you are interested in his personality. Under the Second Empire, an attempt was made to publish Napoleon’s entire correspondence. This edition is available online, but it’s a censored one. A complete correspondence, including the letters which weren’t considered appropiate for the first one, is currently going under publication. The same goes for his letters to Josephine,submitted to censorship since 1833, when Hortense reunited a limited number of them in two volumes, of course without the too intimate bits (there is an integral, uncensored edition published in 1981, but not available online).

- The Mémorial de Sainte-Hélène:

  • French editions of 1823, 18401842,
  • English edition, 1836: Volume I, II, III, IV.
  • Spanish edition (a.k.a Diario de la Isla de Santa Helena), Volume I, II, III, IV, V-VI, VII
  • Italian edition (Memoriale di Sant’Elena), Volume I , II,III

-More about Saint-Helena

- Childhood and youth

- Memoirs.

Certain fictional doctor said it for me: Everyone lies. Yes, you’ll have to remember this when reading memoirs from the napoleonic era. Frequently ghostwritten or published decades after the events, they must not be relied blindly. Some of them are apologetic, some of them pathologically hostile, and a bunch of their authors created myths that seem impossible to debunk. This is a selection:

(Also feel free to add your own links!)

To make money, I’m planning on teaching English, or coaching recreational soccer, or something. But that’s not important because apartments are cheap, and that part, kicking around a ball, or helping Thai children have a better command of the English language, even though I don’t speak a word of Thai, will probably only be a chapter in my book. Those things will provide some nice blog-potential details, too. They’ll show the texture of my everyday life.