History shows again and again
How nature points out the folly of men

And my folly is that I talk too damn much. I hate it when I'm right. It always ends up biting me in the ass.

Tropical Storm Fay did its worst to Brevard county today. It dropped a lot of rain and the only things that it destroyed were days off for people in the education field.

But an ironic fate befell me in particular. The last sentence of my last blog stated that I was not going to let any measley storm keep me from putting on my karaoke show or get in the way of me having a few beers with my pals. But now I sit here alone (of course I have a beer in my hand) in my house. I am not in the bar, I am not doing karaoke, I did not pass go, I did not collect $200. Why, you ask? Because Fay decided to flood my neighborhood. Just because I decided to open my big cyber-mouth. This storm took a sharp turn east, headed right for me, and then sat on top of me; dropping 200 million gallons of water on my front porch.

I remember complaining a few months ago about the construction crew that blocked up my street for moths at a time. They were working on an improved drainage system so that the flooding that happened in 2004 would never happen again. They failed.

So, now I am stuck on the shores of Lake Roxbury, alone. And it's all because I had to mouth off at nature. But I did get some good pics

I realize that I haven't been blogging very much. And a lot of you have been begging me for more funny anecdotes and stoopid stories.

The truth is that I've been so busy that I haven't been writing. Hell, I have barely been on this thing. 
(Some would say that not getting on MySpace has gotten me a few steps closer to the gates of heaven beause this site is EVIL! But I've already reserved a penthouse suite on the 4th level of hell right next to the tower of putrid flesh overlooking the river of fire.... I hear it's nice in the summer, and that's the only season they've got down there)
But I realize that there was another reason that I didn't have to blog. I was spending so much time in the bar that I was telling all my stories to people out loud so I didn't have to write them down. But now, one of my most favoritest and faithful listeners/readers has gone off across an ocean again. She informed me that I'd have to start writing again or she's come after me with a "kanon" (whatever that is, but she has intentions of killing me with it).

So this is a blog to say that you can expect more blogs from the black man in the near future. So keep on the lookout, tell your friends to subscribe, and feel free to laugh your asses off.

This blog is a recent exchange of e-mails between me and a hasher buddy of mine who shall remain nameless because I don't want to have to explain anything to the wankers out there.... Just go with it.
Apparently a few of my friends think that this is funny enough to be blog-worthy and, since I haven't written anything recently, this should fill the void. The first paragraph is what he sent me:

        I might have to start believing in some sort of religion. Divine intervention is the only explanation for how I ACTUALLY PASSED STATISTICS!! !

On-Failing to reject the null hypothesis
AP

Having taken a form of statistics in college myself, I offered him this retort:

You should have asked me sooner and I would have told you that God is the only path to passing statistics.

As it stands today, only 16% of the world is non-religious, therefore, if you put the class in God's capable hands you will pass with an 84%. That's a B, not too shabby.

But the trick that most people don't know is that you have to direct your prayer to "Whichever God up there who happens to be listening at the time," not just the Christian God because Christianity makes up only a third of the world and a 33% is a dismal F. You see, the "Whichever prayer" gets the attention of all the gods at once because they all think that by answering your specific prayer they will gain a follower, thus gaining power. But since they rarely talk to each other they all kick in their share of power. So you get 33% from the Christian God, 21% from Allah, Zen gives you 6%, even Moses takes a small break from parting large bodies of water to give you his .06% but every little bit counts, right?

Of course, statistics will tell you that 20% of people lie on surveys. That's unfortunate because the worst case scenario is now that you're scoring a 64% in the class, but "D" is for diploma! But there's still hope. You can hope that Taoists are liars and Muslims aren't because 20% of 6% is nominal and will not affect the grade, but 20% of 21% can potentially knock you down a whole letter grade. You can also hope that not all of the liars fall into the non-religious statistic. Some Jews may actually be Catholics in denial in that case you still get the power of their data point even though it's not from the god that you think it's from. Still better, some of the people who say that they are non-religious could be lying and that works in your favor.

So, standard deviation still says that you'll get somewhere between an 82% and an 86%. Your solid B is safe!

However, there is the stat that states that 75% of all statistics are flawed. I choose to believe that this is one of those flawed stats and I'll take my B. Besides, what's the use of religion if I can't get my deity to do all my work for me.

"Hey! One of you up there! Grab me a beer!"

Your friendly neighborhood black mathematical preacher man
KW

laugh and comment all you want....

So, I'm doing well on my quest to avoid black people during the month of February. I've only hung out with Jay, because he's my bassist and he only gets ignorant when provoked, so he's ok. And Gemi, who I am considering Venezuelan, at least for this month, so that I don't have to explain anything.

As a result, I've had a relatively stress-free month... Until now.

I'm driving down the same street that I met the niglets from my previous blog on. I swear that this street is cursed. This time I made it down to the Babcock end before I was met with adversity.
There was this white dude, with tattoos, playing basketball in the street. I pulled up slowly, hoping that he'd move out of the way, but I noticed that he had an IPod in his ears. Ok, so his senses are dulled, so gave my horn a quick, soft beep. (Hyundais don't make any other noise). He acknowledged me by giving me a disgusted, sideways glance, missing a lay-up, and dribbling slowly out of my way, but not out of the street completely. I pulled past slowly (Hyundais are also not known for their acceleration).
It's Florida, and it was about 4pm on a February day, so naturally it was 85 degrees and my windows were rolled down. As I passed, he followed me with his eyes, a look of utter discontent on his face and he decided to speak. "What the deal is-E-yo?!" He said.
Now, the little girls were one thing, they were smaller than me if you put them both together and hung a lead weight from their necks. Besides, they were young, and I assumed the parents to be at fault for their ignorance. This guy is a grown man, well at least he looked like one even though he had the maturity of a 6-year-old. And he wasn't exactly my size, he was about 125 lbs. soaking wet. He wasn't exactly my intellectual equal, as was evident from his speech patterns. But I can only hold my tongue so long in the face of ignorance, so I slammed on the brakes to stop the car right next to him.
"What the deal is-E-yo?!? You can't speak English or Ebonics!" I scolded him. (for those of you who don't know, the correct statement is "What da dilly, yo")
"Wut, you wanna start sumthin'?" was his reply as he puffed up his non-existant pectoral muscles.
Now the confrontation was afoot. But I was willing to continue the battle of wits before I stepped out of my car and pummelled him. In both contests, alas, I was fighting an unarmed man.
"You haven't even seen me stand up yet, brotha. I could be twice your size." I replied as I leaned slighly out of my car window so that he could better see the fate that he was talking himself into.
Torn between his continued physical comfort and his male ego, he hesitated for a moment before he made a move. I was expecting him to bow up again and spout some more ignorance. I was going to counter this by getting out of the car and to see if he'd run screaming from the angered black man. But he must have been out of words. He decided on action.
He curled his bottom lip and hurled his basketball at the side of my car. I drive a Hyundai, so a well thrown basketball could very well have ripped through one side of my car and came out the other like a bullet from a Magnum. If that happened I would have chased him down and beat him senseless on general principle. Thank goodness his aim was high.
I reflexively caught the basketball with the one hand that was out the window and secured it with my other hand. He looked at me, dumbfounded. I looked back at him, surprised that he was so gutsy and so stupid. As this point I realized that I could insult him a lot more than injure him and I didn't even have to use any words to do it.

I took the basketball, deposited it in my passenger seat, drove off, and didn't look back.

It isn't enough that I have to avoid black people in February to eschew ignorance, but I have to watch out for ignorant white folks too? The problem is that you all look alike....... But I gots me a basketball.....