A Blood Diamond is Forever

We have entered into a new era. Diamonds can now be produced in a lab. This is great news for everyone except De Beers, creators of the “A diamond is forever.” campaign, controllers of the world diamond monopoly, war profiteers and supporters of Apartheid. As one of the most hated companies on earth there is little that they can say in response to great scientific miracle except “oh snap”, with a peculiar Dutch/African accent.

I have never been a fan a diamonds. To me they are just shiny rocks for which Africa has long been held hostage and no slick advertising can change that. The industry tries to portray diamonds as a rare commodity albeit one that you can find in any department store in Anytown, America. I think you can even score this precious stone at such uncommon and prestigious retailers as Wal-Mart and Costco. They hold no nostalgia for me and if I ever were to receive one as a gift you can be certain that I would sell it for cash and immediately use that cash to put a dent in my student loans.

Still De Beers, ignoring the history of the collapse of the natural pearl market under the pressure from cultured pearls, insists that Madison Avenue will be able to convince people that what is special about a De Beers “natural” diamond is that it took nature millions of years to make it and not simply that it is shiny, overpriced and can be used to finance wars. Good luck on that.

I, for one, would consider buying a manufactured diamonds because I, already clothed in sweatshop produced clothing, don’t need to own anymore non-essential items that I feel guilty about. I hope (with great doubt) that celebrities, especially black ones dripping in ridiculous ice, will feel the same way and promote the new diamonds produced by labs like Gemesis and Apollo Diamonds as a political statement. Although given the history of those tacky tastemakers who will promote anything from Nascar to drug violence, I suspect that De Beers has already gotten to them. So, instead we can expect them to spew well crafted marketing arguments attempting to convince us that not buying diamonds from Africa is somehow wrong, somehow unAfrican. I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard for them to bribe, I mean pay for endorsements from people as sophisticated as the average entertainer. They are no fools and those rocks are mighty shiny!

Not Ripe for Conversion

For someone who was just woken out of a great dream involving drama, intrigue and several integral characters from the HBO series Rome (“I’m Titus Pullo right!”) I think I reacted remarkably calm towards the proselytizers at my door. I thought that it was one of my neighbors and that it was some kind of emergency as they usually, out of courtesy, call before coming down. When I looked out the peephole, I was surprised to see an approaching elderly black couple standing opposite the door with an open Bible in their hand.

Maybe someone in their congregation had played a trick on them. The demographics of Riverdale: a predominately Jewish, predominately upper class, predominately bedroom community of people who live on the outskirts of the city because of the privacy it affords is not a promising place for religious conversion. Like many buildings in my neighborhood, ours is a co-op and we do not take kindly to people entering the building without their own keys, packages for delivery or Chinese food. In other words we tend to think of the entire building, the hallways, foyer, back and side yards and garage area as our private property, because it is, because we pay for it to be a buffer to the outside world. Well this morning the outside world somehow got buzzed in and now I will never know what happened during my dreamtime tenure as the first black female general of the 13th legion of Caesar’s land army.

As I fastened my robe I thought- just find out what they want. We do live below a couple who are both ministers and these people could be looking for them, no need to be rude, it is almost noon I should get up anyway… No, I was wrong they just wanted to discuss the Bible with me. I asked them if the Good Book mentioned anything about trespassing which I followed up with a threat to sic our non existent security force on them. As they milled about in the hallway trying to knock on one last door I reminded them of my threats and they shuffled out. I quickly dressed and went downstairs to speak to the Super about these religious interlopers. Of course he was in the boiler room, but a maintenance guy assured me that he had seen the Bible pushers leave the building by the side door. Using many expletives I let him in on my thoughts on the matter.

My Grandmother was a Jehovah’s Witness ‘til the end so I have a small soft spot for spiritual salespersons. Her conversion rate was low and she failed to convert even one of her seven children or any of her grandchildren to the religion she adopted after her second marriage failed and she became ill. Most of us run the spiritual gamut from rabid athiest to agnostic to “I’ll go to church if someone makes me.” I think that their jobs as Witnesses are very tough especially in an era in which people are increasingly dismissive of religion. It certainly can’t be fun walking around in all sorts of weather having doors slammed in your face and threats hurled at you while you are trying to save people from your concept of eternal damnation. However my sympathies end when my quiet enjoyment of my home is affected by their diligence and I am sure that Mrs. Rosenbaum (not her real name) on the second floor didn’t appreciate it either. Short of putting up a sign in the lobby next to the one about menus I think that there is little we can do about this particular religious sales force.

Why can’t someone sneak into the building in an attempt to offer me something I really want at 11:30 am like a bagel and a cup of coffee light and sweet with Sweet and Low or information on a good designer sample sale or even a coupon for a free wax with full car wash anything really except eternal salvation from people that I am not even sure are right. Maybe I should put one of those Darwin fish on my door and personalize it by putting and NRA sticker on one its evolving flipper feet. I think that would send a clearer message.

What's My Name

After much research I have finally discovered the meaning of my name. It is a Romance version of a Latin name meaning "the supplanter" or "the usurper".

I can work with that.
This changes all my New Year's resolutions. I have much to attend to.

Yours truly,

Jacquetta the Supplanter

PS I apologize to those of your who thought my name was made up. HA. Watch your back.