Black Democrats vs Black Republicans

Let’s Breath….

No disrespect to those in that support the Black Culture. Those who has actually put in foot work to make sure that Blacks receive the opportunity set forth by the balance of our great universe. So far and so if, Thank You.

Now to the point, I can’t be the only one that’s sick and tired of Black Democrats vs Black Republicans. I just can’t understand why this war of Deep State and White Privilege derail us from bettering ourselves. There’ will be no better time than now to get all our affairs in order. The truth is no matter who wins there will be a problem. If Biden and his team wins get ready for the continuous of Black incarcerations, international sex trafficking, child abuse and other craziness. If Trump wins, all those hateful people and groups will terrorize cities, people and whatever means seem need to destroy. Can you imagine?

I honestly do not know why Us Black people think so low of ourselves. Inadvertently we do. Very low Cultural expectation and drive to build self-development. Why? How can we know actually what is affecting us and still lack the ability to use commonsense? How when our most noticeable leaders have said us out. The thing is, look how we treat each other on all levels. Family, business and relationships.

We are dealing with a Pandemic for almost a year now. What I notice is our Black Culture did the contrast of we say we would do if we were given this opportunity. The opportunity to be a Better Black Culture. And I am not an excuse. There is so much more I can do as a Black man. So much more as of Black American Culture. Like focusing! Focusing on coming out the over four-hundred years of mistreatment, low pay and the neglect of equal education. We paid for everything America has given us and more one way or another. And I am not with the crowd of hopeful repreparations-if it comes, thank you. As a Black man. I just want the Full opportunity to its fullest extent.

As a Republican for almost five years, I grown up in a Christian home and Democrat supporting family. The Black Democrats vs Black Republicans is tearing us further apart.

One of my fondest memories as a young black child is stepping out onto my Baltimore front steps and looking up at the many stars. My biological father did not live with us but our stepdad bust his ass to make sure we were more than happy. There was a man of the House, my mother and five boys. We had a productive Black Family.

I know there are people with good attentions in Black Lives Matter, LGBTQ and other black organizations. But we have to understand is there is not enough revenue in the black culture to have all these purposes without a core. Our core should also be Black Childrenour future leaders. And though we have support from other culture we should be as cautious as they are. We should not have to prove ourselves to be-just be! Waking up should not mean watching the news every day. It should be the news waking up to you every day.


My Beautiful Wife….

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Where’s My Coffee with guest Daryl Fletcher Sr.

On today’s episode, I sit with my Uncle taking in his wisdom and advice as I always have. He sure with the world not just his accomplishments but loses. His struggle as a trouble youth and transitioning into the man he is today. I always thought oh my uncle as the O.G out of my grandmother boys. Proven to be a great father to his children and a loving uncle. Introducing, Mr. Daryl Fletcher Sr.

Please forgive my amateur directory skills. Proper preparation prevents poor performance. With this in mind I will continue to educate myself to make better edited videos.

Rating: 1 out of 5.

Black Love. Black Relationship. Black Families.

Literature by: James Fletcher Jr aka Heartattack

To be honest, the segment on Captain Hunter’s Podcast bothered me. I thought we were trying to get to a bottom-line, a resolution to the struggle of Black relationships. Was I prepared? Yes, for my appearance. But knowing actually where the conversation would go. There were no actual questions. I guess our prospective were sufficient enough. See, there was a lot I did not take into account.

1.) Age group: I will say in this segment I was not mature enough relationship wise. Nor did I have enough experience.

2.) Maturity: Everyone else was sound in their positions and perspective.

3.) Growth and Development: Except me, the panel of each person had over 35 years of relationship experience, with at least 15 years as an adult.

(note: That doesn’t no mean someone else my age could not do better. This is my burden).

That does not mean our experience, maturity and growth should differ much. Is there really a difference? Experts can give a better easement- in phycology or cancelling. -There is no excuse to why I failed to deliver exactually what I meant. Nevertheless, there were multiple reasons why I am confused-or, as someone stated ‘As if I had been hurt before’. Better words, Damaged! I could have vented. Not towards the person per-say. But because of the statement. Isn’t this the reason of the conversation? Aren’t this why BLACK relationships being in such shambles? Maybe that’s what threw me over the edge. When Dr. B stated ‘it deeper than communication. I concur cold heartily. I was asking myself, why are people agreeing with some of what I am saying but failed to stand on it? Black Men? What I mean is when it comes to these subject men always lose. My experience has taught me that our mothers secrete is meticulous, strategic and in harmony. Woman togetherness. Every man has a dispute but woman has their one for all argument, Cheaters!

(note: After talking to a fellow Podcaster- and friends, my assumption are as stated. Assumptions. Just as men, woman have concerns as well).

Does this on particular argument put woman on a pedal stole? Allow me to make sense. This is what woman deal with daily. Dead beat dads, dead beat children’s father, multiple different children mothers. Jail birds and no jobs. Living with parents-or, with another woman. People, there’s so much more. Big ups to our Black woman-cause if it was me. I tell you… If you don’t have a high school or G.E.D and more than one kid, I’m sorry (though my fiancé has 5 of her own). That’s the difference between husband (man) and a boyfriend (boy). Ignorance isn’t hard to pin point. I have to have standards and commonsense as well. I wouldn’t assume her as a hoe. It would be more so, you were ignorant enough to fall for the hood trap more than once, period. Man and woman.

As a Black man, the standards set forth by our woman are pretty basic- in abroad and general conversations. In their private abodes of Ladies togetherness. It’s a little fabricated and extravagant. What bewilders me is a man will speak on this to his homeboys. But in a circle of political correction will brag on what a man is supposed to do (our Steve Harveys); knowing damn well Black Western masculinity is given by our woman. Woman always had the choice of given man that title (yeah-yeah, some have earned the title. But a woman can tarnish it as quickly). But then, who are man we to give woman any kind of sobriquet? We can speak on how our ancestors display what we assume as love, family and relationships. Then we can speak on our Western perspective. Bottom line, our concepts are selfish, one sided most of the time and unnatural (Men and Woman), unbalanced, to needy and fucked up! I hurt you. You hurt me. Know…, let’s hurt someone else.

Black Love ages 21-40

Now there may be some back lashes between ages 30-40. Why, because there is a large percentage of Black men in disbelief. To my point. A lot of Black men don’t believe nothing a lot of woman says (ladies. As you see I didn’t say all). Woman say it themselves. Woman will tell everything her girlfriend man does. But want to play loyal when they are in the wrong. Complaining about cheating than want to steal one another man. To Black Men, Black Woman ae the biggest contradictors in this matter. Like for instance. Why are the Men called boys and are boys are becoming girls? How can a woman between the ages of 35-60 can date a 21-30 young man? But when a 40-year-old man dates 21-26, he a pervert? And as for perverts… As recalled, the problems start at home. Single parent homes(mothers) with woman pride, misguidance and vehement hate for thier prior spouse. Black men are ignorant to the cries because we are constantly prosecuted by criminals.

Black Families 80’s-2000’s

There’s a big percentage of elders from the 40’s through the 80’s are in retirement homes, deceased or flat out fed-up with the following generations. Though elders still relay knowledge, they will not directly work with us. When it comes to old vs young. The old school believe in their ways-which was better than now-a-days. So, lets stick to our era.

50’s – 80’s

A lot of the parents were having children while children of the 80’s. These now adults want to be married, men and women. All whom don’t trust one another because of previous entanglements (word to Mrs. Picket-Smith).

(note: Ladies, we do know about your pain. You are our mothers, our sisters and daughters. We also know that our communities are not products of rape abuse birth-especially with our abortion rate. And If so, we don’t).

Cynical behavior like ‘you a cheater! No, you’re a cheater! The generations of promiscuous relationships. Thus, producing new generations of misguided, miseducated and lustful children, now pointing fingers. Our sources of continuous miseducated rebels. Most important, failing to further the dignity of our future for Black Families.

Black Relationships

This to me is a subject that has no bottom-line. As long as we are humans, this will happen. Men lie. Woman lies. And those in between. So, I will let the expert solve this. But what I will say is, it’s all our choice. It is our choice to cheat. Our choice to be battered. Our choice to be abused. It’s all our choice! Is it right? No! We just have to want more for ourselves without being egotistic….

Rating: 1 out of 5.


No More! If Not Ourselves- For once, Our Children

No More Death of Our Children
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There is a problem when the most important deaths to us are convicts, drug addicts, gang members and flat-out criminals. People who lie and cheat their whole life. Some of these people have brought disgrace to our family name, our honor and dignity. Dis-concerned with the pain brought upon all who-in the name of family, will bend earth to protect. And they still without words say FUCK YOU with their action. Not taking responsibility for actions.

-Then, we have our beloved sons whom are being slaughter by drive -by shootings and gang wars. Just for being outside or at a cookout. Our daughters being bullied and killed for being cute or intelligent. Death after Death over basic everyday stuff- Or, is it? When did death become normal for our child, the real honest ones? Are when really telling ourselves a check is all we need to be quiet? Is that what makes the pain better- No disrespect to those who mourn differently…. Can we get a grip on our reality? We can never be in charge when we do not have discipline in our culture. We cannot raise our youth like this no more. Yes, it’s is hard. But we have to put a stop this. Black men, don’t you see we are losing everything? First ourselves, our children and now what’s left of our Black woman.

Here are some of the children that has been heard of, not too much of, and not at all. Condolences to the families and R.I.P to ALL our innocent children.

Secoriea Turner,8 yr-old girl

Treshawn,11 yr-old boy

Brandon Hendricks, 17 yr

Rahim, 15 yr old

Antonio Mays Jr., 16 yr

Dvon McNeal, 11 yr old

And there are so many I have no names for in which I will give city and age in hope someone will see this and provide information.


Unidentified, 14 yr old


Unidentified. 6 yr old boy

Unidentified, 11 yr old girl

New York

Unidentified, 7 yr old girl

Unidentified, 14 yr old

Unidentified, 15 yr old

Unidentified, 15 yr old

Unidentified, 16 yr old

We should all find these deaths as a lost to our futures. Everyone had potential to be someone and do great things. But because careless in this world has no regards for children and the pain they cause. So let’s all go to our mirrors. Look hard, now we see what the problem is….. ALL OF US!


The Chronicals sit-down with MTM Hundo

Today on The Chronicals, our special guest MTM Hundo sat with us and shared his point of views on fatherhood, being a Black man and his music. I don’t know if I said it enough but he’s one of the most diverse artist in the game. Hundo talent spread across the music board. He makes all his own contents. And for any other artist he has taken an interest in, he’s all or nothing. His ear for music and it’s Oria to me supersedes multiple artist today. And if you listen closely you can hear generation of variety music genre. As collectively Drakar Draco, MTM Hundo, KingLos, Scare Ochbar and Leekioo. If you haven’t heard of these artist you should look the up.

Check out his Podcast. You’ll be suprise with his mindset.

Sept 19, guest Drakar Draco on The Chronicals Podcast.


(A.F.T) American Federation Of Teachers. Is this Corruption or Well Over Due?


Teachers’ Union Refuses to Go Back to School -But Attends Al Sharpton’s 50,000 race ‘Get Off Our Necks Rally in D.C. By Jim Hoft Published Sept 05,2020

I hope I am not the only one who believe Teachers’ are well pass their dues for raises, better environment’s and respect. I truly feel Our Teacher has been put aside for decades. What I do believe is they should have gone about it in a better way. Using the Covid-19 was a slim chance. Than to attend the rally without mask restriction is a toss-up. How do you aspect to get support for not following rules that you want to enforce? Well, Here’s what Mr. Jim Hoft has to say about it.

And I quote:

In New York City teacher marched in protest with coffins to represent the coronavirus. The teachers said they were too scared of the coronavirus to teach but dragged a coffin around the streets of New York City.

He goes on to say:

Hopefully these same teachers weren’t teaching math. Children have a greater chance of drowning or dying in a car wreck than succumbing to Covi-19. The American Federation of Teachers (AFT) threaten that its members would go on strike if they were expected to go back to actually doing their jobs and teaching in a classroom.

But these same Teachers Union sent buses to Al- Sharpton ‘Get Off Our Neck’ march in Washington, D.C. These are the operatives brainwashing your kids at school. Maybe it’s better the kids are at home.

I find this statement disturbing for multiple reasons.

1). How are our teacher brainwashers with nothing to wash with?

2). Who is he to even understand the many decades of Teachers being forced to work with little to nothing?

Having to spend the same money earned from teaching, spent on teaching. I do say do that this reason for the strike is bull for most parts. I think they should instead say what they really want. O, maybe someone should help them better elaborate their means and purpose. But as long as this is their reason, that will continue to be put on the back burner.

Does this bother you? I have some questions if you guys don’t mind sharing.

1). Do you think this is corruption or manipulation? Why?

2). Do you think this is about money or, is it really a fear of Covid-19

3). Do you think Teacher are well overdue?

4). What are some of the problems teachers faces that make their requests probable?


He Hope, She Hope, They Hope

They Hope…

He looked at his phone and let it rang. His pride, his ego was in the way. But he knew if he didn’t answer, he would regret it. As a man, a family’s man. To go home and it be quiet. An unfamiliar ambiance…

The peace isn’t really peace. Home doesn’t feel like home…

Knowing what’s good. He took a deep breath, put his car in drive and dailed home…..

She picked up her phone and dialed his number. It ranged and ranged. She paced the dinning-room floor angry at herself. He called and she didn’t answer-just like he had. But that was not what her heart was feeling. She wants him to come home safe, forgiving and honest. Not afraid, not broken and with out a grudge, she hope…

She heard the door open and turned. Their he stood leering back. She was lost for words. His face expressions showed no emotion, his body still. She took her breath than exhaled, wondering how this conversation would go.

They both stared at one another, frightened. His attitude. Her mouth. Their ego’s who will be the bigger person at this moment, when it mattered…

She hope, that he would say something first. That it wouldn’t be a bullshit apology. In his eye’s, like a open book for her to read. She hope for sincerity. For the next time they’re arguing, she doesn’t have to scream ‘You’re not hearing me!’ She hope!

They both began walking towards one another. He was trying to relax. She wanted to fall in his arms, but remained poised.

He hope that she does not have her gun loaded with ammo of the ‘You had this bitch!, You always on your phone! Why this and why that!’ And it’s not that he want her to forget about it. But- there’s no but. He wants to love her right. But how? When he doesn’t know how to give it and she doesn’t know how to receive it. He Hope!

They hope, with all they have created- a stable life, a once loving home and most important; a child, would remind them of what is at stake

They stood in- front of one another. His lips parted but nothing came out. She could feel it, wasn’t sure but it was vehement. Love. He hope.

She felt like putty in his arms. No matter how tight he hugged her, it was ok because she’s a perfect fit. She hope.

They hope they both recognize that this apology was difference. They hope that this apology brings about a new person, fixing their own wrong, being better-not just lovers but, better companion. To not give up. To fight until there’s nothing left in them. To-be-a-family.

He hope… She hope… They hope…..


He Hope She Hope They Hope……

She Hope

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You are a piece of shit for a man! She shouted as the front door slammed shut.

Her mind was on Nac car time. An hundred and running.

The things that raced through her mind could for sure get her life

She slammed her bedroom door so hard that the vase next to the door fell and shattered, awaking the baby.

The screams were giving her a headache. She could not focus.

She had told him everything…

Her mistakes as a child. The abuse. The molestation. The rape.

He knew she never had anyone.

To this day. She has no family.

This is the first home structure she has ever had.

And for him to attempt to throw that away makes no sense.

All the ops and downs…

Bot to excuse herself. She said some weird things as well.

Oh, how she played eith his eagle.

Statements like; Broke ass nigga. Cheater. Lame. -Even told him about his homeboys trying to holla. Something she failed to tell him when it happened.

She could have kept that to herself but her anger was on the brink of explosion.

Nothing happen. She did the right thing. She hope…

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She hope he knows just that.

She hope that with all that has been said, they can supersede their difference to be better lovers, parents and partners.

The baby she thought… Not her child. Another fatherless child.

She hope he does not see this evilness ass an opportunity and their family becomes another black statistic.

She hope he knows she’s not going to defend her wrongs- better yet, be woman to be honest.

She hope they can get through this . She looked at her watch hoping…

Hoping he comes home…

By: HeartAttack


He Hope… She Hope… They Hope…


          He Hope…. 

 It has been twelve hours since he checked in. 

An argument with his fiancé that hit a nerve. 

The audacity of her to mention his failure like he was nothing. 

And the one problem they have-not just her. Him as well. Weed! 

Wake. Sleep. Shit. All day he’ll smoke if he could. 

It’s no secret. How he wished he nerve started. 

But, that’s beside that point! Who is she with all her mistakes? 

And his tongue was loose… 

He mentioned the consist failed relationship. Her fatherless children. 

The lack of achievements in her life! 

He went on and on. No remorse as the hurt on her face left her without words. 

His last words were ’Stupid Bitch!’ before marching out door to his car. 

Before pulling off he stared at the house as a dust storm of emotions overwhelmed his feelings. DEEP FEELINGS. 

The mistakes he may have made could have cost him dearly. 

Never in his life has he lived so…so…so, normal. At peace and true love. 

Yes, he loves her. Display it in many weird ways. But he would give his soul to save her. 

OH, how he messed up. 

He hope, she’s not thinking of leaving. 

He hope, she doesn’t think for one second mean nothing to him. 

He hope, she knows that what he said were revengeful, hateful words, ignited by hurt. He didn’t mean it. 

He hope, when he gets home, she’s there and waiting. No matter her attitude. 

So many mistakes… 

He hope she’s prepared and willing to forgive him? 

He hopes 

He looks back at their home before pulling off. Hoping…  

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Democrates Bullshit!

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There comes a time when enough is enough dealing this Democrat Party. The party who suppose to support minorities, the poor and the less unfortunate are willing to let their supporters loose everything because of their hate for President Trump. And through all this hate our President still turn his cheek to the Democrats and supportwes gracefully. I stand with the President Trump move for executive action to wrest tax and spending power from congress. And alot of Democrats should be also. The challenges the White House and Capirol Hill. That means, parties will not be able to work with seperate motives. Both parties hands are on the table. Our President is saying, If anything is blowing up- we all will! You MF’s want the truth. Let’s put it all on the table.


Families Are Being Forced to Choose Side

By: HeartAttrack

     Families Are Being Forced to Choose Sides    

 It’s 2020, and It’s almost voting time. People are terrified of the outcome. Will it be Joe Biden or President Donald Trump? Will it be Democrats or Republicans? Will it be Communist or Conservatives? True Americans vs traitors and outsiders. All of this is happening in the midst of a Pandemic. People are asking who can they turn too. And it seems like friend and families are becoming out of the question now a days. The need for equal rights, freedom, the desist of police brutality-as well, balck on black crime; has not only pushed the low tolerance for politics and quote ignorant sleep family members. How and why is this happening? Why can’t we agree to disagree like the old folks used too. The bad thing is the ones who recognize this is lost on how to explain their point-of-view with neither side being able to tolerate the other. Another shameful point-of-view is the separation of families are not because of dead beat dad’s? It’s not the typical somewhat normal things we’re used to. To stay apart of your own family is hard. It’s not supposed to be this way. Where are the psychiatrist? These days children are to grown for their own parents to give advice. Everyone knows everything but how to be family or at least try. 

   I know it’s hard to spread love around the world. And peace starts at home. Stay close to our families. That way we’re never alone. 



 I’m I the only one who try to be a part of something (family) and felt so much like an outsider that you just gave in slowly burning away the memories, the thoughts that they do not exit. The hard thing is you can’t. Since I can remember I have been dealing with what everyone calls Black Sheep identification. This is supposed to be when your considered least to succeed in the family. And didn’t go through it, seriously. Since day one I was told I would grow up to be just like my uncle Parish (Long time criminal and tough ass). I do not know why this was said about a child who has yet said a word be prejudged like that but that was me.  

     A memory that has bothered me to this day is my mother trying to drown me because I was crying to go home to father. One day we were going somewhere, walking randomly, ending at someone house. My mother knocked on the door and some lady let us in. Next, we ended up in the bathroom and me taking a bath. I could see the depression on her face, frustration… I guess my muffles made whatever frustration vivid because she became livid. Next thing I know my face is being pushed into the water and held. I was actually inhaling the water to my brain. I can feel the burn on my brain like it was boiling. She pulled me back up for a few seconds than stuffed my face back into the water. I cannot recall if I saw her anger but I felt it. The hurt to be on the street with a child, for me to be crying for my father when he left (supposedly).  

 See family, I can remember a lot. From my first words to my Aunt owing me a notebook (we always trip off that. I know they sometime think I’m tripping but I can name the street we lived on and what school year it was for me. East Bethune ST. And I was starting pre-kindergarten). A person I admire to this day is my Aunt Tonya. Since day One she’s been one of the realist women I ever known. I can remember this fire truck she bought me for a birthday. I loved and honored that truck. The truck was black jeep truck with fire blaze all the way around, and it had a black solider that came with it. Aunt Tonya, Uncle Irving and Uncle Daryl if I can remember treated me and my cousin Pierre equally. There was one time I felt my Aunt treated him better. She helped him purchase a stereo system. But the whole thing is he was getting straight A’s in school- since he started school. And I think she got it for him in 9th grade. His intelligence and maturity have been high, though I am older. I remember my father called himself getting Pierre to help me learn some math over the summer. We were both in first grade and our studies didn’t go pass multiplications and dividends. And if he real cared he would have asked my mother, my teacher or most important me why? Because he told my cousin the wrong studies- it was reading. 

     My father was a good father but a bad dad what made him an ok man. A fought for his had most of his kids or tried to get them. A lot of kids. Some that are still coming out. Some that love him (us that lived with him) and those that don’t (the one’s that didn’t). My father is diagnosed illiterate, meaning he can barely read or write. But I tell you, he’s far from stupid.  

   Can I tell you how my mother ended up having me? And drowning me. It was a good day; well it started that way. I was running around the house when my mother came in with a baby seat in her hands. I can say I was happy to see her. I ran to her and hugged her. In her hand was my little brother Ramone (I still call him pie- face to this day. He turned out to be A better functional man then I am, I would say. I am proud of him). My father came out the room than he and my mother went in the room and closed the door. When my mother came back out, she seemed mad and started down the stairs. I ran over to say bye she asked me did I want to come. I said no.  

  Note: I was always told my mother assumed I loved my dad more. I didn’t believe it but after years of see how she act around and towards my step mothers. She would say stuff I couldn’t understand then. I do now. 

   Anyhow, my father is a verbal abusive guy (now I see where I get it from). He used to say some shit to me. I might not be his. He disowns me. I’m the oldest but the dumbest. Craziness. What I despise him the most for is him using me for babysitting. I was very good at basketball. So good I received a scholarship in middle school. I was a problem child and the school offered me a scholarship if I continued going to school and playing ball. My father would say I’m lying but it is true. He did the same to my sister Terricka. Had us thinking he was out working or handling business. The whole time we were missing school to babysit. He would literally get mad if we said we didn’t want too. Then have the audacity to use the other with taunts of who is the better child-vice versed. It felt like he never wanted us to do nothing. We couldn’t go to family functions, hang out with cousins and friends. He would always say they was talking about us- in which was. But most of the time it was because of him. His mouth. Most, his lies. Some was because we actually done bad things. Especially me. I had hands problems (stealing, lying and girls). He never had a problem throwing me out. From the time I moved with my father I ‘ve been with my grandmother, aunts, uncles and back to him. I can’t remember staying with no one more than a year. Damn shame.  

   Let me tell you about third grade. There was this new kid that transferred to our school (William Penderhuges). We became pretty cool over time. Our thing was playing Mortal Kombat before school started. One particular day we were playing and I was getting the best of him. Dude got mad and kicked me in the nuts. When I went to the bathroom, I had blood in my power ranger draws. When I got home my father owed me a wiping for acting up in school (playing with dude). I took my pants off and there it was a big blood stain. He seen it, look at me and continued on beating me (that’s probably why I cannot have kids). Another was in my teens. I had gotten a job a t an elementary school tutoring and gym work making summer money. My father had a job there as well as a janitor. My dad had bought this necklace and bracelet set. They were the cross and Jesus piece. I wanted them too. They were sterling silver and shiny. Well on Christmas Eve my father offered them to me, for a price though, 240 dollars. At the time I was 124 yrs old. He slicked me out my Christmas check. All fake chains. And guess what he got us nothing for Christmas and carried me and my sister like we were acting up is why he didn’t. This is how mid-evil my father can get when it comes to many. I was doing good at one time. I would go to school and after work. Another Christmas, I had given my dad my rent money. I asked him if I could keep my next check because I wanted to buy my little brother and sister gift. I was excited about too, he agreed. Do you know when I got my check, he went back on it saying he never said that. We got into it big towards the point he put me out. Not because I acted up, not because I owed rent, not because I disrespect his home but because he wanted my money to buy his new lady friend kid’s gifts. He bought me and sister nothing. He bought Ms. Rene kids timberland boats and tennis shoes. I was put on the street to impress another man’s family, period. The only time can really remember good times with my father is when I did not live with him. I earned a lot from my dad but suffered mental abuse at a high. Some people just don’t understand what they do and never will… 

  To be Continued…. 

 If you want to read more please comment or like. Maybe become a follower. 

‘From the Heart’ Graphics Design


Rating: 1 out of 5.

The Pressure Of Returning To School

https://achor.fm/james-fletcher-jr/episode/Wheres-My-Coffee-The-Pressure-Of -Returning-To-School-eksi9a

Join me in this Podcast as I try to understand the (ATF) pressure of returning to school and what or how we could go about help and making it more comfortable for education to continue.



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Where’s My Coffee?

I am a little concerned. And our communities should be as well. And in this time of pandemic turmoil, the one’s that will suffer is our children. And it’s starting to seem like with all our adult decisions our children become less important.

Apart of this is education. For years our school systems have suffered to no avail. Teacher has battled in on out to receive the necessary pay, equipment, facilities and respect as the educators of our future. Every parent had or now has a child with this teacher who suffers greatly. And dealing with the fact that not only do they have to teach our children, some has to be counselors, God parents and mental health specialist. I believe they deserve what they earned. And it’s a lot more than what they have been given.

Ok, to the point. I need some assistance putting some power behind this. I need two teachers, one from USA and one from a different country. I also want two college students, one from USA and one from another country to discuss their point of view on the teachers strike and how they all feel about returning to school or work during this pandemic.

If there’s any Teacher’s and College Students willing to join the conversation on the Oct 10. Please email me at theheartattackchronicals@gmail.com. Or, contact me on my website.