… When Your Shit Goes South.


So, Mrs. KKW (wow, lucky for her she did not marry say, R. Kelly) got tied up and robbed in Paris. As a law-abiding human being and one that possesses quite her share of compassion for her fellow human beings, I am glad she was not physically hurt. As a rational human being however and one who advocates strongly for the acceptance of responsibility for one’s actions, I cannot help but to cock my head to the side and wonder (and now say out loud), “Ahm… maybe minimizing the presence of yourself, your baubles and your location on social media may be a good idea?!” I know. I know. I know… THAT is all she is famous for. Sigh.

In all seriousness however, I concede that bad guys are bad guys and the responsibility for this act lands squarely at their feet. Yes. I absolutely shy away from blaming the rape victim for what she was wearing. However, the reality is that for so many Ms. KKW and her clan are a joke, flaunting their shenanigans and excesses so shamelessly that fucking with them either verbally or in this case, physically/invasively/financially is an opportunity too good to pass up! Oh! And then there’s this – stay tuned – this could very well be a publicity stunt (or maybe Mr. KKW needed his 4.5 million dollar ring back…).

Okay, this time it truly is, “in all seriousness”.

Whatever this latest escapade turns out to be, again I am glad she was unharmed. Tthings can be replaced (yes, yes I know… so can Kim. All that needs to happen is someone again assembles a bunch of parts and attach them together J ). But what I would like us all to be constantly aware of is how much we expose of ourselves and our lives on social media. This concept of ‘checking in’ is dangerous. Posting pics that flaunt our possessions, foolish. Playing out our relationships, childish (leave that ‘relationship status’ button alone!).

Listen, Lord knows I share a lot. And in doing so, I willingly invite you all into (parts of) my life. But I want you all to recognize that – it is always just to “parts of” my life. In doing so, I accept the feedback I get may hurt, disappoint or piss me the fuck off. I accept that. That is a consequence of my laying down the mat and inviting you in. But believe me when I tell you that the parts of me that are most sacred, precious or fragile I do not expose. My daughter, for instance, will always be behind an electrified fifty-foot wall, with barbed wire on the top. Protected. Because the reality is this – the responsibility is mine, by my example, to show you what is off-limits. What needs to be protected. What you cannot touch. So often we place what is supposed to mean so much to us before an audience that is comprised of some we know and many we don’t and expect a standard that we do not either set or uphold. We expect friends, acquaintances and complete strangers to honor what we don’t.

The world is made up of some absolutely fantastic folks and then, just for shits and giggles, there are those less-than-stellar people to add some color and teach us some lessons. People who simply stand by to take advantage of the opportunities we purposely or unwittingly provide. She provided one. Well, actually, many. Her need for social and media popularity leave her, her possessions and sadly her family extremely exposed. I hope she learns from this experience.

As I pray we all do.

Protect what is yours. Place the XXX magnum condom over the shit you profess to want to keep safe. And only let those you trust see what you’re working with 😉



Respond to … When Your Shit Goes South.

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