Month: March 2016
“Hold on, stop the press!” I borrowed this quote from my girlfriend Marie-Flore. I will write about the few days spent at her house while I was in CA later. But today, I want to address the Trump dilemma; America’s latest tragedy.
Sorry guys, I haven’t been able to write since my return from California. I’ve been preoccupied with my new invention. Yes, since I’m from the Caribbean and Mr. Suntan happen to be my best friend, I thought I better start researching an herbal skin bleach; just in case Donald Trump is elected president.
Donald Trump presidential slogan is: “Make America great again.” Assuming he’ll get rid of the foreigners. I find this interesting since Mr. Trump himself is the son of immigrants?
According to CNN, “Trump’ mother was born in Scotland. “In 1930, an 18-year-old Mary MacLeod sailed for America from Glasgow on the S.S. Transylvania, according to a copy of the ship’s passenger list on Ancestry.com. MacLeod arrived in New York and married Fred Trump, the son of German immigrants himself.”
Hold on! Stop the press!!!
Trump also claimed, “My grandfather Frederick Trump came to the United States in 1885.”
About his WIFE? CNN also stated, “Melania Trump moved to New York about 20 years ago.”
Yes, Donald Trump fell in love with the immigrant, Slovenian-born model, and they had an extravagant wedding ceremony. Guilty as charged, I was among million who watched the wedding ceremony. And, I was mesmerized by her glamorous gown which I heard cost a fortune.
By the way, Mr. Trump’s first wife Ivana was ALSO an immigrant. In fact, she was born in Czechoslovakia. OMG! Please stop the press!!!
I also read on Mr. Trumps website, “ Donald J. Trump is the very definition of the American success story, continually setting the standards of excellence in BUSINESS, REAL ESTATE, and ENTERTAINMENT.”
So, my question is: “What is he doing vampirizing the political realm?
Now my greatest fear is for the employees of the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services. Why? Because Trump might command their genocide.
Trust me, I already renewed my passport. In fact, I carry it with me everywhere I go. I even purchased a one-way ticket to Timbuktu City in Mali.
By the way, since Trump is doing such a great job tromping over the good values of the American people, don’t you think the name “TROMP” would suit him better?”
Well, Trump better be glad I’m not working for the State vital records office. I would gladly do him the honor for FREE!
Then his political slogan would read: “TROMP, Anything is possible in America!”
I was still feeling blahhh today, when I thought, “Why not visit the nearby thrift shops? After all, since we’re still in Los Angeles, the City of Angels; what better place to hunt for some rare vintage?”
Boy, was I wrong! My sister and I went to three different thrift shops, and when we finally went back home, we were each holding a tiny bag. Trust me, that’s very unusual. Hope you know what I mean.
So, do I feel any better now? Of course not.
Well, since hunting the thrift shops totally failed the “Make me happy test” now I’m not only mourning for the death of my brother, but I’m heartbroken for the sterile state of the thrift shops in this town; at least the ones I visited.
So, it’s time to take some drastic measures. Hopefully, a great comedy movie should do the trick, don’t you think?
I heard, “My Big Fat Greek Wedding 2” is playing. So my sister and I are planning to visit the Hollywood theater on Hollywood Blvd, in order to watch it there. I better laugh my heart out. Else, I would give the crew a horrible rating.
While I’m there, I plan to place my own star on Hollywood walk of fame. And since I refuse to cooperate with the outrageous fees I suppose one must gladly pay, in order to have million of pedestrians swipe their duty shoes on your name, I will just glue my homemade marble star on top of Marilyn Monroe’s. Her initial is “MM”, while mine is “NM”; close enough, don’t you think?
But, I will definitely engrave MY NAME next to Dorothy Lamour and Sophia Loren stars. My type of ladies!
So I suggest you watch the news today. If you hapen to notice a handcuffs woman smiling, while faking speaking Italian before a judge, it will be me.
So before I take off, let me say in advance, “Nice meeting you as well.”
Don’t worry, I will keep you posted.
This is my way to exhale my anger, the rage I’m feeling for losing my brother. Yes, I’m screaming with frustration.
I’m still in LA, meeting with old friends and family members we haven’t seen for a while. They all remember my brother as the teaser, the kind-hearted gentlemen he was.
By now, I honestly thought I would feel better. But I was wrong. I’m still angry at the whole world. Furthermore, I’m angry at life. And, I’m whispering to you guys that “I’M ALSO ANGRY AT GOD,” for calling my brother home so young.
Yes, I’m screaming from the top of my lungs with frustration; while I’m still trying to swallow my lost.
I know “God” can still hear me. Good for HIM. Perhaps, next time He’ll remember my wrath before He calls me or any member of my family home.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Yes. That’s right God! I’m interrupting the angels’ praises to you. I hope my screaming will annoy you, so much so, you won’t be able to rest either.
Why God? WHY MY BROTHER PATRICK? I know you have all the answers. So please tell me.
I won’t’ dare ask YOU: “Why not me instead?” Because you know I would be lying.
A couple weeks ago, I thought I was ready to make my silent exit from this world, but losing my brother made me realize the precious gift of life You’ve honored us; and hopefully, I will meet my deadline before my unexpected final goodbye.
Yes, this is my conversation with the Creator. I’m still waiting for His answer. I will let you know if He answers me back. Chances are, He won’t. And if He does, it will be” I’m God, I do as I please.”
My answer to Him: “Wait until I get up there. You’ll will sentence me back to a trillion life back on earth. I guarantee you that much. But, just remember I don’t want to come back as a Haitian!”
So, while I wait on “His” answer, I thought I would travel down memory lane, revisiting our childhood events for therapeutic purpose.
Below are a few pictures, precious moments we spent together. And, yes, they are actually us. As you can see, since my older brothers were already in the U.S., my brother Patrick was the only boy in the midst, so he drove us crazy.
Sunday morning, drinking our traditional soup after Church. My Step Mother was wearing her pink pants suits, while standing behind my brother like the general in command.
Yes, I had to erase the two girls standing behind me. My sister said they were the maids daughter. Trust me, you wouldn’t want to see what they really looked like. Let’s just say, I have a strong feeling, God ran out of beauty powder when He was creating them. Although, they were still my little friends, and I guess I must have been very nice to them since they both chose to stand next to me.
My younger sister’s first communion. Yes, I chopped off our legs because they were too sexy. You see my gorgeous older sister in yellow? She was the only one posing as if were in an audition for a movie. My younger sister and I were too young to understand the importance of holding our breath while we posed for the picture. Not only that, our legs looked like two chopped off giant trees.
Yes, we were wearing our shower caps, swimming caps were scarce. What do you expect? We were still living in Haïti. Can’t’ you tell with the blinding sun shining over our face.
My father is the handsome man in the middle. Very typical of him to plan our weekends and vacation ahead of time.
It was a perfect picture, but now, my brother is forever gone.
Yes, one major piece of our family puzzle is missing. But, his kindness and sense humor will never be forgotten; as his memory will forever remain engraved in our heart and mind.
Farewell, my dear brother Patrick Moïse. We love you and will remain truly blessed to have had you as our brother!
Four days ago, life sentenced me with a bitter cup of tea.
“Ma, Tatie just called. Uncle Patrick is in the hospital with liver cancer.” My daughter told me.
About ten minutes later, my older sister walked in, with a puzzled look on her hace. She was on the phone, talking to my younger sister.
“What? What do you mean?” “She responded. “But… are you saying? You mean?”
The next few seconds would forever engraved in the history of my life. Because, I could hear my younger sister’s voice. She was crying so loud, I could explicitly hear every word she was saying. By then, tears were burstiang with full foce from our eyes.
I sat there speechless. Not knowing what to say, I started to rock my body back and forth. “This is the best way I could challenge my disbelief.” I thought to myself.
“We must go to LA. Sis. The doctors don’t believe he’ll make it through thursday.” My sister said.
We made it to LA. But unfortunately, we were 13 hrs late. Yes, too late to say our goodbyes.
Yes, our loving, kind, humorous brother passed away three days later from the heartbreaking news. He was only 53 years old.
We are still trying to swallow this large grain of salt.
They say “Life is a bitch.” I don’t beg to differ. And one day I shall find my thrill when I serve that “B” a cup of her own medicine.
Excuse my language. But I’m not only mourning, but I am MAD!