Visit the NEW Randy Boyd's Blocks

If you're reading this, you've come across Randy Boyd's blog, version 1, the Google Blogger years. Also know as my original blog that ran on Blogger from 2007-2015.

For my newly remodeled blog (including most of the material here), visit RandyBoydsBlocks.com. That's where I'll be posting new blocks 'til death do me part. The software behind the new site is WordPress, a much more powerful publishing tool.

As for this Blogger site, I plan on leaving it up, seeing as how it's free and will, theoretically, live on as long as we have an Internet. That could be long after life after me, which is why I hope to archive my new blog material here as well. Someday.

Randy Boyd's books, now available as e-books!

My books are like my kids. I'm happy with the way they turned out. I'm also happy to announce that all four of my novels are now available as e-books.

Each book is piece of myself set forth into the world, a reflection of my dreams, a part of my soul. The main perspective is that of a black gay man living with HIV/AIDS. Go figure.

Each book has been nominated for a Lambda Literary Award. Each book has been Luccie'd every time. :-)

When people ask me which book to start with, I tell them: if you really want to know what it's like being me, go for Walt Loves the Bearcat. It's full of the most autobiographical nuggets and it’s also the book that inspired my next series of books.

But I'll let you decide. Hopefully, you'll get to know and love all my kids. Wouldn't that be cool?

Here's how to find Randy Boyd's books, now available in print and as e-books:

To see all my books on one page, go to:
Randy Boyd's books in Apple's iBookstore
Randy Boyd's Amazon.com author page
Randy Boyd's Smashwords.com author page
Randy Boyd's books at Barnes and Noble

To find individual links to my books, read on:

Walt Loves the Bearcat
Get print or e-book at Amazon
Get print or e-book at Barnesandnoble
Get e-book in Apple's iBookstore
Get e-book on Smashwords.com

Bridge Across the Ocean
Get print or e-book at Amazon
Get print or e-book at Barnesandnoble
Get e-book in Apple's iBookstore
Get e-book on Smashwords.com

Uprising: The Suspense Thriller
Get print or e-book at Amazon
Get print or e-book on Barnesandnoble
Get e-book in Apple's iBookstore
Get e-book on Smashwords.com

The Devil Inside: The Suspense Thriller 

Get print or e-book at Amazon
Get print or e-book at Barnesandnoble
Get e-book in Apple's iBookstore
Get e-book on Smashwords.com

Welcome to my world

Oh, babies, what to do with you

Ah, the sanctity of life. A fetus come to term — having survived nine months inside another person — is ready to become its own person, no longer living inside another body that may or may not have been such a great host.

Either way, that fetus is now somebody!

Somebody who had absolutely no say in where or why they were born.

Somebody who has inhaled smoke, second or third hand, because everybody inhales smoke (because it still OK to expose others to toxic cigarette fumes).

Somebody who's eager to cry, sleep, laugh, crawl, walk, talk, become a child, play like a child, dream like a child, grow up like a child, become an adult, like all children.

Somebody whose brain, genitalia and gender may not line up perfectly with what's considered "the norm."

Somebody who — before even making it into this world — must undertake a harrowing journey that many fetuses ready to be born don't survived: passing through an Indiana-Jones-like birth canal, then all at once, that somebody must be able to breathe, keep breathing and survive in a suddenly non-sterile world.

Just like that, that somebody is now a baby, completely dependent on the world for survival for some years to come.

If that baby is born in the United States of America, should that baby be afforded the rights afforded to all babies born in United States of America, as determined by the laws of United States of America?

Or should that baby be turned away, rejected, mandated to go elsewhere because of the actions of the vessel that gave birth to the baby?

Ah, the sanctity of life. As long as the life giver is a United States citizen.

Does that mean it's OK for illegal immigrants to have abortions?

Would that be better for the fetuses not yet come to term, still waiting to be born? Soon as they become somebody, arrest them (whenever you find them), then deport them and send them elsewhere — anywhere that is not the greatest country on earth?

Which is the better alternative: allowing illegal immigrants to have abortions, or letting those fetuses to come to term, then getting rid of them?

To paraphrase disgruntled teenagers arguing with their disgruntled parents, "I didn't ask to be born (in this country)."

Can you have it both ways? Can you be pro-life and anti-birthright citizenship?

Ah, the sanctity of life.

Beautiful mountain, ugly politics

Gather ‘round, boys and girls, we’re going to play a game called, Name this mountain! First, a little story.

A story about a mountain.

A beautiful mountain, the biggest and the greatest.

The natives called the mountain the Great One. The settlers called the mountain the Great One.

Then the mountain became property of the United States of America. Still, everyone called the mountain the Great One.

Some 30 years later, someone with enough political clout (and the right skin color) "discovers" the mountain and unofficially renames the mountain, giving it the name of a politician in order to promote that politician (and his political agenda, of course), a name that has absolutely nothing to do with the mountain or anyone living around it, the name of a man who never set foot on the mountain. Did he even know about the mountain?

Didn't matter to the political clout (with the right skin color) in charge of the property.

Did matter to the people living around the mountain, natives and settlers, seemingly of all skin colors.

Natives and settlers continued to call the mountain the Great One. And for the last forty years, they’ve been petitioning the federal government, trying to get the federal government to officially called the mountain the Great One.

But even a mountain as great as the Great One could not break through the mountain of governmental red tape, and so the mountain — although still quite great — did not possess an official name that seemed all that great to anyone living near the mountain.

That is .. until enough time passed, enough loopholes lapsed, and the ultimate political clout was in the hands of someone (with an amazing different skin color!), but also someone who could officially make the Great One, the Great One again …

…thereby giving the people of Alaska — natives and settlers alike — what they wanted all along. What they called it anyway.

Denali, or, as we say in the non-native language, the Great One.

Happy ending?

It would seem so, for the people of Alaska who have actively sought to make this happen for the last 40 years. Today, President Obama has made it happen.

Isn't that a happy ending?

Depends on who's telling the story and their point of view (and agenda).

President Obama. Air Force One. Alaska bound.

The Alaska state government — (an historically white/Republican dominated institution, yes?) — has been trying to assert its states right over the federal government's rights to name its mountain, or rather, keep the original name of its mountain.

Finally, the federal government delivers. Completely legally. And what are the "pro-states-rights" Republicans saying about this?

“Another example of the president going around Congress,” says one member of Congress from Ohio (who should perhaps bone up on his job description and the laws of the land).

“Obama overstepped his bounds,” says a former governor of Ohio (who should perhaps realize the Prez’s Dept. of the Interior is leaps and bounds within its bounds).

“Another example of Obama's constitutional overreach,” claimed another member of Congress from Ohio (who should point out where in the constitution “naming mountains” is mentioned).

Did I mention it was Congress who followed up on the original, unofficial renaming by making it official a couple of decades later?

That unofficial-turned-official political name? Mount McKinley, after former President McKinley, who never set foot in Alaska, but walked around plenty in Ohio, his native state.

And home of most, if not all, of the politicians now making a big fuss about President Obama’s Department of the Interior offically renaming the mountain by giving it its original name.

Isn't that restoring American? Making the Great One great again?

Not to his opponents.

“President Obama has decided to ignore an act of Congress by unilaterally renaming Mount McKinley in order to promote his job killing war on energy. This political stunt is insulting to all Ohioans,” says the former Ohio governor, now running for president.

What about the political stunt that was insulting to all Alaskans?

What about the political bullshit that's insulting to all Americans?

What about the political party that constantly twists and bends the facts and circumstances of every situation to make Obama seem like one dumb (or smart) Kenyon-born, Islamic monkey nigger who's trying to take away everybody's guns and jobs and turn America into a Muslim caliphate?

What would you name the mountain?

If you can't see the mountain of bullshit, it's no wonder you can't see the great accomplishments of the greatest president of the 21st-century.


***

Quotes and other information about this story can be seen in the USA Today articles, Obama administration renames Mount McKinley to Denali and Ohio delegation blasts Mount McKinley name change.

Is Trikke giving up on Trikkes?

Been a while, so allow me to reintroduce myself. I'm Randy Boyd and these are my blocks, or ditties, or musings, if you will. I prefer blocks, the kind a child uses to make words.

Been playing with blocks since I was a wee young thing. That's when I figured out I like to tell stories. My first one as a child involved a basketball team known as the Tigercats, but that's for another time.

Been a professional writer since age 20, and a blogger since 2007, when blogs were the big thing LOL. Turned out to be a good way to muse about my four novels, sports, HIV/AIDS, race relations, President Obama, and this great new hobby I picked up in 2009, the Trikke, the joyride of the 21st-century.

Been a Trikke nut ever since. I love my Trikke. I love trikking, to use the vernacular of enthusiasts; I am a trikker and will be until the day I die. That's how much I love it, that's how much carving has been a part of my soul since love at first Trikke.

Been away from the blog for the last few years, riding my Trikke, of course, but also writing about Trikke, and doing so on TrikkeWorld Magazine, an online publication and labor of love for three years. What a ride, with the emphasis on labor :-)

"Trikke Tech giving up on the body powered Trikke would be like Apple no longer selling the Mac."

Been through a lot since I last posted a piece of myself on my blog. The circle of life with my dog. Illness, then illness again. Life-altering stuff but stuff for another time.

Been rejuvenated. Resuscitated. I'm back on the block, my Blocks. Once a storyteller, always a storyteller.

Been hearing quite a story about the Trikke lately, rumors circulating throughout my Trikke community, the global band of brothers and sisters who share the joy of carving, who identify as trikkers, to use the vernacular. My peeps.

Been hearing Trikke is getting out of the business of making Trikkes? The body-powered ones at least? WTF?

A brother goes away for a few and … wait … what?

Must have Trikke. Must have eternal source for Trikkes. Don't need a new drug. Just need a Trikke. Once a carver, always a carver.

Been checking out these rumors like the good Trikke reporter I still aspire to be. Examined the evidence: body powered Trikke models going out of stock with no sign of being replaced; electric-powered Trikkes being upgraded, revamped and reimagined for use in security, law enforcement and commercial transportation. Heard from my peeps. Questioned my peeps. Requestioned my peeps.

Trikke Tech giving up on the body powered Trikke would be like Apple no longer selling the Mac, the passionate product that put them on the map and engendered a loyal fan base.

Trikke Tech wouldn't dare, would they?

Here's the skinny:

I have it on good authority that Trikke Tech is not giving up on body powered Trikkes, same way Apple is not giving up on the Mac, as recently announced.

Even if Trikke's further foray into electric vehicles turns into the company's cash cow like Apple's world-transforming iDevices, the powers that be at Trikke Tech remain passionate about the joy of carving and committed to the body powered three-wheel wonder.

So keep calm and Trikke on, people of Trikke world.

In my humble opinion, now that we humans have figured out we can move this way, there will always be a market for “land surfers,” so why not Trikke Tech, the igniters of the carving revolution?

The company is, indeed — pardon the pun — carving out a name for itself in the burgeoning gazillion dollar electric transportation market. But … to use a Star Wars metaphor, the force of the carve remains at the core of the company's heart and soul.

Trikke Tech isn't done with Trikkes and neither am I.

I'll continue to ride like the wind and land surf whenever possible. I'm also going to write about it. Where else but here? Back where it all started. Randy Boyd's Blocks.

I'm back on the Blocks and it's a whole new day. And my Trikke musings will now roll out under a brand new name.

Good morning, Trikke world.

Mic check

Mic check. Check one. Check two.

Universal memo

Hiatus

You may have noticed that Randy Boyd's Blocks has been inactive for some time now. That's because I've relocated (temporarily) to another planet. It's called TrikkeWorld, a new child of mine that requires a lot of attention.

Hopefully, once TrikkeWorld is a little more evolved, I'll be able to re-arrange my worlds (and better manage them!) and get back to building more blocks and writing more books.

Thanks for your patience.

"Boyd, take over!"

A long time ago, in a childhood far, far away,
there was a time when I played football.

Seize the Dog

Boomer has seizures. I first noticed them when, at age five, he suddenly appeared possessed. Daddy’s Special Buddy, my golden mutt, was having a heart attack, or about to see a little alien burst from his gut, like in the Sigourney Weaver movie.

To the vet, we went, my friend Linda driving, me in the backseat with Boomer, singing, “Nothing’s gonna harm you (Not While I’m Around)” from Sweeney Todd. His song.

A few hours—and one hefty vet bill—later, Boomer was back to normal, as if nothing had happened, as if Daddy hadn’t been traumatized out of his mind.

Football Player or Cheerleader?

Back in the 80s, I was on a college football field many a Saturday afternoons come autumn. Now in the 21st century, I'm here to tell the world: College Football Players: Lighten Up on Your Gay Teammates!

Blissful Ignorance

How do I tell my dog that his best buddy Max is no longer with us?

Do I look at him with a sad face and say, "Max. Gone."

Do I let him go on in blissful ignorance?

I suppose he'll know soon enough. The moment we step inside my mother's house, he'll go sniffing around for her dog, wondering why Max wasn't waiting on the other side of the door, barking up a storm.

Boomer's tail will be wagging in circles, happy to see his Granny, but he's bound to be confused why he's not seeing "Granny and Max," as he's heard me say countless times.

Down But Not Out

"America can do whatever we set our mind to. That is the story of our history ..."

—President Barack Obama
May, 2011

Yell Leader Splits Pants Before Season Opener

September 12, 1981. I’m a sophomore at USC, warming up in the end zone of the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum before the season opener, Tennessee vs. USC, my first-ever football game as a USC yell leader.

Although I had been a yell leader for the basketball team during freshman year, football at the University of Southern California was something different altogether. This was the biggest stage, the school’s raison d’etre, so it seemed at times. For goodness sake, this was Marcus Allen’s Heisman Trophy year!

God: All in the Mind

"God is like a mind. A great, powerful, super-intelligent mind.

The mind is the only thing that exists in the entire universe. There is nothing else outside this mind. The mind is all there is and knows it is All There Is, therefore the mind knows it is all-powerful and can be anything.

But what is there to be? There is nothing because there is nothing else. There is only the mind and the darkness inside.

"Go make something of yourselves, so that I may know what my mind is capable of."

But the mind wants to know more about itself than the mere fact that it is All There Is, so the mind summons up all its power and explodes into an infinite number of pieces that are off in search of whatever the mind can think of and create, all so that the mind may know itself and what it is capable of.

The mind called these pieces energy. And the mind told the energies:

‘Go make something of yourselves, so that I may know what my mind is capable of; and what I am capable of, so that, by separating myself into pieces, I may know myself, and myself in relation to another form of me, which is merely a reflection of myself, the mind, God.’"

—from Walt Loves the Bearcat
by Randy Boyd
A Lambda Literary Award Finalist for Best Romance

"Warm-spirited ... resonates with soulful queries into the nature of love and life." Bay Area Reporter

Of Men and Earrings

My 22-year-old cousin wears an earring. His grandmother asked him why.

“I dunno,” was his response.

Why, men wear earrings to feel pretty, I could have told him.

In the latter part of the last century, women began taking more control over their lives and men began doing things previously reserved for young ladies out to catch a man: earrings, getting one’s hair-did, fancy jells and perfumes, excuse me, colognes.

Cover boys acting like Covergirls. Fashion statements that state: somebody declared this fashionable and I’m into fashion! Don’t I look pretty? Don’t I smell pretty?

Men who are man enough to admit to having sex with other men need to come up with new terms to describe themselves because heterosexual-identified men who wear earrings and cover up the scent of a man with fancy concoctions in a bottle have given new meaning to words like “gay” and “queer.”

Yes, you all look pretty. Very, very pretty.

The Emperor Has No Debt Crisis

What if this summer’s blockbuster event—the Debt Ceiling Debate—was the crisis that wasn’t? What if the threat of weapons of mass debt are just as non-existent as Saddam's weapons of mass destruction?

Why do most economists say another stimulus is needed, not spending cuts? Makes you wonder, especially after checking out two stories from Time Magazine and the PBS Newshour.

The Five-Year Plan

When my dog Boomer turned ten years of age in 2008, we made a deal.

Negotiations were tough but fair. We both had demands; we both made concessions. It was all about finding common ground, focusing on the things we agreed on, our similarities rather than our differences.

When it was all over, a deal was struck between myself and the golden mutt I’d raised since he was a six-month-old puppy.

The deal was rather simple: Been together ten years, so far. Another five years, then we’ll re-access and re-up our relationship, providing, of course, we can come to terms again.

Most likely, those future negotiations will once again focus on the type of food I feed him (mine vs. his), the amount of treats he gets, and the number of times “it’s playtime!”

Those are the things that cause our differences of opinion and therefore, stress in our relationship. Mind you, that stress in minimal, compared to the rest of our lives; but the experts say: communication is the most crucial thing in a relationship.

Which is exactly why we came up with the five-year plan. It helps us know where we’re going, where we’ve been, and best of all, it helps us realize: although we may not be around one another forever, we’ve still got a few more years together, as long as we stick to the plan.

The White Stuff

Confused by today's political rhetoric? Check out the New American Dictionary for Angry White People.

Keeping Up with Randy Boyd's Blocks

If you love Randy Boyd's Blocks like I do, you'll want to make sure you read every single post.

To do that, you can get the Blocks via email, or you can subscribe in your favorite news reader.

Or you can just keep on coming back to Randy Boyd's Blocks every day for the rest of your life. Your choice. I'm cool like that. :)