Kenny's Camera, Cooking & Crazy Confessions

(From last night's performance) You would think that after 16 years I would have learned my lesson, or at least, have matured. Sorry, folks... This is Chante Moore we're talking about... This is ME is we're talking about. (If you haven't read Parts 1 and 2, which took place in 2003, I'd suggest you CLICK HERE ) You see...    Chante returned to town last night... ...and where class and discretion are the key, once again - all bets were off, baby... Hey, you all have got Michael, Prince and Beyonce.  I've got Chante, so HUSH. God knows my love for her, which is probably why He derailed my chance to go on the Fantastic Voyage cruise with her, years ago.  He probably foresaw me banging on her cabin door as she sat on the opposite side on the floor screaming, "Oh God, PLEASE!!! Leave me alone!!  I've got a gun!  The buffet is open!!!  Take yo' pudgy rump down there and get a biscuit!!" (I'm kidding, but that was the running joke

October, 1976.  I was handed the telephone and listened closely to my father's words on the other end. "I'm going to put you on the phone with your grandmother.  She can't talk to you, but she can hear you.  Don't take long because your brothers need to talk, too.  Got it?" "Yes, sir." My heart raced as I tried to figure out what I was going to say to Grandma.  My sister had already spoken to her and said some very beautiful things in a very short time. "Here she is." There was a slightly muffled sound of phone movement and transmitter-against-skin as I heard the distant voice of my father, telling me to go ahead.  Grandma had been paralyzed by a serious stroke and her time left on this earth was uncertain.  Dad held the phone against her ear in the hospital. "Grandma," I tearfully began as I reached clumsily and desperately for words, "I love you, Grandma.  I'm sorry for everything bad that I did at your house.

A few months ago, I received a text from a friend, asking me when I started thinking that misogynistic humor was funny.  When I asked what she was getting at, she directed me to a joke that I supposedly posted on Facebook. After checking my page, I noticed that someone else had "tagged" me, among others, in a very crass and sexist joke that I considered both disrespectful and utterly unfunny. I clarified that it wasn't me, but rather a tag, to which she quickly apologized, having not noticed the details of the joke's origin. I "untagged" myself from the post, then messaged the sender, instructing him not to tag me in such posts in the future.  He answered that he thought I'd like it, which is why he included me.  I told him that I'm not sensitive or anal, but what he posted wasn't me or how I viewed women. Which brings me to my so-called lesson or thought for all of you that use Facebook... When you tag someone in a p

As a father of four young African American males, I live in constant fear for my children.  I am terrified at the thought that at any time, any one of my "babies" (actually young men, all above age 18) may someday fall victim to what is widely considered a corrupt justice system, seemingly designed to accuse, judge and execute without impartiality.  As a viewer of the biography and long distance spectator of the real occurrence back when it happened, I empathize because many of my peers and I have been there, in some way, shape or form... ...but certainly not to that extreme. That's what I'd like to talk about today.  How I felt, which could be similar to how you felt.  I was worried that I wouldn't be able to write this by the date I promised in Part 1 (reminder, if you haven't read it or seen the movie, I strongly suggest you stop now, click here and read it , then watch the movie before continuing).  Mainly because I was concerned about this becoming

Since my social media posting about how important it is that we all watch this movie, I've received quite a bit of feedback with opinions across the spectrum.  Some people have seen it and are still trying to digest what they witnessed.  Many (like me) vividly remember the incident from back when it occurred and were shocked about all that they didn't know before this point.  Quite a few are "committed to watch it but afraid" as a good friend put it.  Finally, there are those that don't plan to watch it for one of two reasons: either they can't stand the thought of viewing depictions of real life (racial) injustice, or they think it's just a "black" story and not applicable to them and theirs. My friends, no matter the reason, make no mistake: in these times, with this current administration and considering all police-related tragedies in recent years (primarily involving minorities and youth), YOU CAN NOT IGNORE IT ! "When They See

The six of us unloaded the minivan with our juice, 2-liters, potato chips, pizzas, brownies, plates and napkins as we headed for the park benches closest to the basketball courts.  The boys were eager to get through family prayer so they could inhale their food and shoot hoops or throw the frisbee around for a good hour or two to close out the Sunday afternoon.  It was a frequent and unplanned practice of ours that I got from my father, 40+ years ago. I will never forget that day, back in 4th grade when someone from the school faculty came to my class and told the teacher that I had to go to the principal's office.  After the barrage of "Uh-Ohs" and "Ooooooohs", my teacher told me to put my books away in my locker.  I was too young to think that anything bad had happened, even though I'd lost my grandmother earlier in the year.  My church was right across the street from school and I can still remember looking up to see my friends in the classroom windows

It's time for my monthly health update!  I've been eager to put several minds at ease after last month's avalanche of bad tidings. First, I managed to get 8 lbs off.  Not quite the 15 I'd hoped to shed during the month of June, but 8 lbs is 8 lbs.  Count it all joy because I accomplished this despite the recent calf injury I sustained (I still don't know how that happened, so please don't ask). The shoulder is still sore and weak and the back continues to go out without warning.  It's hard for me to put in extended standing and walking, but bike time compensates.  Did I mention that I returned to the gym?  Yaaaay (if you sound that out, don't scream it.  Say it softly and melodically). The battle continues because the war never ends. Unlike last month, I'm in a better place, mentally and a more encouraged mood.  Unfortunately I had to endure the loss of more friends, all of whom were my age (50-52).  So it hasn't been all sunshine.  I