Andre N. Turner's Blog (5)

Normally I don’t do food criticisms; however in my efforts to seek out subject matter for my second book, I found a little lady fits whose criteria fits perfectly for inclusion in my little blog of depravity. So get out your pens and paper and get ready to take notes as we uncover the secret recipe for Omaima’s Egyptian Spare Ribs.

Born and raised in Egypt, Omaima Nelson…

Have you ever had a speck that wouldn’t go away? Whether it’s in your eye or on your shirt it can be a bothersome nuisance. Let’s take a look at how an early morning traveler from the 60’s in Chicago handles such a problem.

It was 3:00 a.m. Thursday July 14, 1966 and the humidity in Chicago was nearly unbearable. Barely coherent, Richard staggered down the street and came to rest at a bus stop. “The bitch,” Richard uttered to himself, but then a thought came, “which bitch am I talking…

In my ongoing search for incidents of depravity perpetrated by people that we share the planet with, I happened upon New York police officer Gilberto Valle. It seems that on Wednesday October 24th, 2012 agents with the Federal Bureau of Investigation took Officer Gilberto Valle III into custody after they uncovered several plots to kidnap, rape, cook and eat women, yes EAT WOMEN!!! The Manhattan U.S. Attorney Preet Bharara filed the official criminal complaint charging Valle, a…

Looking out of his apartment window Richard saw the “Goth” kids sitting in the green park grass talking. “Fucking role players,” he said to himself. “They don’t know what it’s really like,” he grunted to himself in an angry tone, just barely audible. The involuntary shaking he was currently experiencing had gotten worse throughout the day.  “They choose to live this way; I didn’t have a fucking choice!” Richard continued as his low mumble became a yell. He became frenzied as he rummaged…

Albert sat in his room on a frigid January morning. He had become accustomed to entertaining himself with the vivid images, thoughts and memories that occupied the four corners of his mind. Some of the memories were decent, most depraved, but all of them were his property. He recalled a poverty stricken childhood filled with pain and suffering. Even now, memories of Saint John's Orphanage were clear…