"Iowa...like I could give a f*#k!"

This erudite quote wafted from the mouth of a Bronx transplant in a "Giant" supermarket here in the Washington, D.C, area. Indeed, I think she...yes, a she...speaks (however indelicately) for a lot of us, regardless of race, political party, etc. who do not live in that overwhelmingly older, whiter, blander state of Iowa. I will diss Iowa because I do not receive farm/corn subsidy handouts from Uncle Sam, nor do I owe the place any allegiance for being plucked from the Hood or Dirty South to play football or hoops for the Hawkeyes. I don't have friends at the Des Moines Register.

Don't look for the Dems and GOP and state legislatures to grow some common sense and testicles and rationalize this insane primary and caucus circus scheduling debacle. It will only get worse. I'll not joan on New Hampshire, the so-called Granite state (even though Vermont produces more). My wife and I went to Meredith, the lakes, the "notches" and mountains for our wedding anniversary. You see, my blood runs tepid knowing that...THE FATE OF THE HUMAN RACE IS BEING DECIDED BY SMALL GROUP OF HAYSEEDS AND HOUSEWIVES WITH NAMES LIKE "DEWAYNE AND TRIXI YODER."

God Help Us. So to take you mind off of this hellish vision, I offer this: Two works by true women of power (sorry Hillary). You've seen the first before. That Mean Old Yesterday by NJ-based essayist Stacey Patton. This isn't for the weak-hearted. It is a frank and stark indictment of the foster care system vis. black folks (and I don't mean how it discriminates...I mean how black foster parents are too often demons from another sort of hell). Stacey crafts this autobiography by intervweaving as allegory applicable observations and vignettes from the slavery, black history. This is NOT "Antwan Fisher" warmed over. This is fresh and biting the January wind off the plains...gulp...Iowa...

And then we come to the new novel from one of the grand-dames whose work inspired me to write in the first place. Of Blood and Sorrow, by Valerie Wilson Wesley. This is the latest "Tamara Hayle Mystery" and no, it's NOT dumbed down for the street fiction/hip hop fangirl. I know Valerie and she would have none of that, despite the "pressures of the market." The title comes from the Langston Hughes verse turned into a mere shibboleth by our present leaders, pastors, entertainers. You must buy this book and see how real genre fiction is crafted for your head and heart. Oh yeah, and to see what's up with Tamara and Basil Dupre...

So once you shed a tear or a cheer for Barack or Mitt or the Mean Queen or that Christian Taliban clown Mike Huckabee (and you know some ignorant black churchfolks will vote for that fool), go online and order/pre-order this books...or do it from this blog. For unlike politics, you ask for better, and I give it to you.