Flippant Remarks about Potatoes
Tanyetta is the wife to the most patient man on the planet. Her post, “A day in the weekend life of a busy toddler....Photojournalism—DJ style,” means a lot to me. You see, kids, I have done just about everything I have ever wanted to do to a woman except inspire one to call me the most patient man on the planet. I’m not bragging. I’m just declaring completion—for I, even my ego knows, I am not the Ultimate of Limits… With the birth of my third child, surely I can no longer afford to be patient with women who somehow think that I am not quite being honest or accurate about my sense of completion. Such women would do well to explore openly and honestly their sense of completion.
So, eventually, real men start to think about what they can do with a women—a real woman. And one of those things for me is to make potatoes—see the father’s potatoes at right. These potatoes look exactly like the ones I was telling Ed Dunn about in the comments for “I Need Somebody Help On How to Make Potatoes for Breakfast.” I may have the recipe for the potatoes but to have them really taste best you need the house, the children and the woman—a real woman. And for those of you who are really going all the way—you need the community. Brothers and sisters, you simply must have all of the ingredients…
The potato is indigenous to the Americas. Like quinoa (a food Black people should be eating instead of grits) and agave nectar (another food Black people should be eating instead some insulin-threatening syrup), the potato is real American food. The hamburger is from some German street vendors and the French fries take you back to the potato. It’s humorous to me how Black people can claim to be “part Indian” but don’t really have any real Native American thoughts whatsoever… Think, again, about potatoes…