The Talk-Show Twist

Even though we try to hide "racial" behind and beneath that word "random" in referring to a beating or killing, it peeps its head above it, blaring "black" and "white."  We need to deal with it from that perspective, but we're afraid of acerbating our supersenstive feelings surrounding it.

There are many countries in this Western Hemisphere where the people have such fear of the word "racial" that they try to present their population as monoracial, although it's made up of Indians, mestizos, blacks, and whites.  As if not knowing whether we're looking at a black or white or Indian or mestizo weren't troubling enough we're also confronted with "hate," the other inescapably damning word, attaching itself to our trembling mind.

With our teeth chattering nervously we whisper:  "Please, God, don't let the official say that 'racial hate' had anything to do with this crime . . . ."  And the official solemnly proclaims:  "This was not a hate crime, 'racial hate' had nothing to do with it."  And we whimper:  "Thank the Lord."  But deep within us a voice moans:  "Why even blacks killing blacks screams with 'racial hate,' self-hate spiraling out of control while clinging to a European identity; and attempting to camouflage the hypocrisy with show-bizness marches and whining on talk-shows to get their pictures on TV they still -- after over a hundred years -- attribute their problems to whites.  They liken it to the tale of A Talk-Show Twist:
                                                        
                                                          The Talk-Show Twist
                                                          Isn't done with the wrist
                                                         And steady beat of feet
                                                         Or a pip of a hip
                                                         But with a quip from the lip.

Shooting In Duncan, Okla.

"Believe It Or Not." as Ripley would say, there are people taught to be rude.  The image of these people is so strong that one hears "There goes the neighborhood" the moment one moves into a community where people don't think that rude is cool.

The rude-is-cool belief exists by commission or ommission in one-dimensional -- crude, rude -- neighborhoods where many mothers and fathers are loud and vulgar-mouthed around their children who grow up imitating them a nd passing this ignorant conduct on to other children.  We encounter them in schools, on school buses, public buses, in stores -- in fact, wherever we go because they believe that being rude is cool, that it gets them noticed, but only if they're more rude than the one trying to get noticed by being rude to them.

Sometimes some of these people can be so ignorant, existing in a state between low intelligence and no intelligence that they'll take a gun, get in a car and see a young athlete jogging down the street -- maybe even in a small Oklahoma town -- and they'll shoot him in the back, killing him.  That's what can happen when rude is cool leads a fool.

Missouri Fun Et Al

A crowd gathered at the picture someone posted on a telephone pole in a Missouri town.  One man walked away laughing.  Another man looked at him, frowned and said:  "You think that picture's funny?"
"That's what it was meant to be."
"It's insulting."
"You're too thin skinned."
"It's racist -- reminds me of that white clown pretending to be President Obama at that rodeo in another Missouri town where, obviously, they weren't all from Missouri."
"It's not racist -- and I should know, I drew it."
"Well, I'm white and I say it's racist."
"Well, I'm black and if it was a black man flying through the air I'd still think it was funny."
"You think that the picture of a white man crossing the street on crutches and getting hit by a car driven by a black man -- smiling -- is funny and not racist?"
"Yes I do -- and so would anybody who likes fun."
"Well, with fun like that you'd better be careful we don't all die laughing.  In fact, with so much anti-Americanism going around these days it's bad timing to promote hypocrisy about racism and divisionism within our borders.  Doesn't mean we all have to love each other -- 'have a nice day'."

To Quote Jack Nicholson

"You can't handle the truth!" he flung at Tom Cruz in that famous scene.  Can we -- in the 21st century -- still not handle the truth (relative though it may be)?  What about "nothing worthwhile can be built on a false foundation"?  That's been around even long before movies.  We see proof of it each time some race-hustler rants his or her jibberish that "blacks  are committing violence 'cause they need jobs!"

That picture on TV just last week of three 15-year-old "blacks" punching and stomping a lone white youth was proof that they were trying to kill  him because they "needed jobs."  Yeah, right.  That lone white youth denied the three of them what job?  Can't that savage violence of those three "blacks" be multiplied in "black" communities all across this nation?

Haven't thousands of "blacks" on that subcultural "foundation" been graduating with business degrees from colleges and universities year after year for decades, but haven't created three jobs?  "Black" youths of every generation grow up seeing people of different ethnic groups building and producing in their respective communities, but they see nothing similar occurring in "black" communities.

A thousand dollars to a doughnut that more intelligent conversations go on between parents and their children in Jewish homes and between Anglo parents and their children than between parents and children stagnating with a subcultural "foundation".

Blacks And Oprah's Purse

Isn't it presumptuous to think that every clerk in every store in the entire world knows Oprah from any other black woman?  The stylish white clerk looks toward the door as Oprah enters.  The store sells purses, some for $38,000.  The clerk thinks:  Pictures are always being shown of blacks rushing in, smashing showcases, snatching expensive goods and rushing out . . . I'd better be careful, never saw one even look through the show window before, let alone come in . . . "Yes . . ?" the clerk asks Oprah.

"I'd like to see that purse over there," Oprah says.

She might have an iron pipe in her coat pocket, the clerk thinks.  Gonna hit me, then snatch the purse and run.  She might even have a gun.  "Uh . . . the red one . . ?"
"Yes.."
"That one's rather expensive -- $38,000 -- maybe you'd like one less expensive . . ?"  Gotta stall her, maybe someone else will come in.

Isn't it logical that the clerk should think these thoughts?  How many blacks do we believe have gone into that store to buy a $38,000 purse?  And aren't blacks continuing to stream from black communties into white communities for safety -- and are all over TV shows whining about the violence of blacks?

Let's try putting ourselves in that white clerk's place in that luxurious store and a black comes in-- mama mia!

Part-Time Race Hustlers

Part-Time Teachers, Part-Time Lovers -- even Part-Time Race Hustlers -- must be proficient toilers in order to maintain their place in the job market.  Just when we thought we'd resolved their pet peeve, "racism," here they come again.

"We're together!" we've heard after we -- white, black, brown, red, and yellow -- have run to the scene of some disaster and "pitched in" with little regard for our safety, peering through smoke and flames, listening, hoping for any cry -- no matteer how feint -- for help.

But, now, for the past two or three weeks we've had people running and marching in our streets.  "We must have conferences on this racism against black men and their violence that keeps us racing to live in white communities where we feel safer than in black communities; we must stop this injustice of jailing black men for violence."  HUH!!!  These people are all over TV programs "running their jibs" like babies whimpering for the atttention of their mamas and daddies:  "Racism against us black people -- boo hoo hoo . . ."

"But, children, mama and daddy try to give you whatever you want, try to keep you happy," the people they're whimpering to say, trying to appease them, to sooth them.
"No, you like them other people more'n you like us, boo hoo hoo . . ."
"But listen, our little tutti-fruities, haven't we -- for decades -- been buying all of your little kindergarten rap-ditties that you call music . . ."
"But y'all like them other people 'cause you find other cultures interesting and they got a different culture and we got the same culture as you . . ."
"Now, remember, our little chickidees, over fifty years ago a movement was brought  to you with fire, bullets, and blood -- it was heard all over the world -- to return you to the legitimate identity of your Afrikan ancestors, but you rejected it, preferring to remain our carbon-copies, and, remembe, the people you're talking about represent a large market in our economy."
"Then y'all still love us?"
"Of course we do."  Who else would have you, they whispered.

So remember, people, from time to time Part-time Race Hustlers will get jealous for attention and will start crying "racism."  All one has to do is to start singing "Part-time Hustlers" and they'll shut their "jibs."