If Charles Bukowski had a cousin who was
slightly less self-destructive, not at all a womanizer and who lurked in
the deeper shadows of Bukowski, writing in the margins, it would have
been Larry Gross.
Rachel Dolezal’s adopted black brother said: “It all started with the hair.” If she weren’t in the news for being
black but really white, I would say that “starting with the hair” would
most definitely make the recently resigned president of the Spokane
chapter of the NAACP a black woman.
It can’t be ignorance; I introduced an Enquirer
reporter to the recently reopened Clifton Natural Foods on Ludlow
months ago and told him how it was a return to almost the same spot
after decades in Clifton Heights exile. But according to a co-owner of
Clifton Natural Foods last week, the Enquirer hasn’t written a thing about this business success story or a merchant returning to her old neighborhood.
As Cincinnati Police Chief Jeffrey
Blackwell prepared to hand in his city manager-ordered 90-day plan to
curb this city’s outburst of violence, black folks from Avondale to
Westwood, Walnut Hills to Bond Hill to Winton Hills and even murderous
black parents under the jurisdiction of the local branch of Ohio Jobs
and Family Services behaved as though their black lives — and no others —
mattered worth a damn.
If there is one thing that American
grocery stores can agree on, it’s that they would rather see most of
their unsold yet edible food go into the dumpster than the digestive
system of people who for one reason or another can’t afford to purchase
Meg lives in my apartment building here in Covington, and
she’s a nice, older lady who is always friendly to me, and I’m always
friendly right back. Sometimes I think — actually I kind of know — she
would like more from me, but thankfully I don’t see her all that often.
Politics are a stupid sham because the
people you get to choose from live lives nothing like yours, care little
about how yours is going and spend all their time on the clock
pandering and entertaining the rich so they can afford to run in future
When Thom Shaw was alive, sometimes I
would do a drive-by to see if his little black truck with the ARTWERK
license plate was in the parking lot in Essex Studios. If it was and I
had some time — because Thom Shaw could talk me under the table — I’d
pull in and make my way back to his space.