A policeman sat in a straight-back chair outside the room. A woman lay on her back in the hospital room he guarded. Her shooting had gone international and so had support for her, especially in the Middle East and Afrika where rag-tag third world, jack-ass countries with anti-American agendas demonstrated in her favor.
Even in that loose-fitting white linen robe she could be a model, the reporter sitting beside her bed thought. She was tall, her body parts symmetrically connected. "Why did you shoot the cop?" he asked.
"I didn't like the way he looked at me. They always bullying us po' innocent 'people of color' . . ."
"How was he looking at you?"
"He wasn't exactly looking at me . . ."
"I don't understand."
"He was looking at my titties . . ."
"Where were they?"
"In my brassiere, minding they own business."
"So how could he see them?"
"I got this soft tan skin and I know the tops of 'em, round and smooth, looking inviting peeping up from my brassiere . . . I like to show 'em like that to give 'em some air. They jiggle like they grinning every time I move my arms . . ."
"And that's why you shot him?"
"I and my nephew was sitting in this restaurant eating a sandwich and he was drinking a soda in a booth and a couple of times he glanced over in our direction and my nephew, big as a football player, suddenly pointed at him and said, 'Come on.' We went over there and my nephew said, 'You ain't got no right to be bullying us 'cause we people of color' and the cop looked surprised like he didn't understand, and that's when my nephew hit him so hard in the jaw, knocked him in the corner of the booth and the cop was snatching his gun out and my nephew fell on him and they was struggling when I heard the shot and my nephew fell back, clutching his chest, and while the cop was staring at him I thought, 'He killed my unarmed nephew for nothing, my harmless nephew,' and while I was tearimg that gun from him it went off and killed him and now they got me here for my nerves, waiting for trial . . ."
"But you're head of that group campaigning against bullying . . ."
"That's why all these same people in schools, on TV shows, preachers, and others against bullying is supporting my case and I know that all them people rioting is wit' me. Even the President --and he wasn't there when it happened -- he done said something 'bout it, so you tell my story and nothing will happen to me."
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Ferguson, Dead Brains Walking
The natives were restless again. When people of an ethnic group can't -- or don't have the courage to -- cope intellectually with a group culturally superior to them they express their inferiority through violence. And other inferior ethnic groups throughout the world use them for propaganda to express their own incompetence against people that they feel inferior to. Anyone with intelligence knows that the dead-brained enemies, inside and outside our borders, are rejoicing at the chaos these dead-brains walking in our cities are causing by abusing the freedoms that we have in the U.S. What is to be done with these inferior people?
The word "natives," put the color to it that comes to mind, conjures up low-class, dirt-poor, ignorant, backward, shabbily dressed whiners and beggers. If we woke up one morning and they had disappeared from the Earth who would miss them? What do they contribute to any society other than their whining and begging, alcoholism, drug addiction, petty crime, overcrowding in jails and prisons, a financial burden, running and jumping as a profession, and rioting and lootin'.
"We ain't stealing and lootin' -- that's a lie," they bellow. "We is revolutionaries liberating this stuff, liberating wine, whiskey, and beer, TVs, tennis shoes, clothes and furniture -- that's why we wear our britches low, showing our booties, we is revolutionaries . . . ."
Race-hustlers in black communities have elevated race hustling to a business. They take black children of every generation and deaden their brains with "God made us all equal." Any intelligent person knows that's a lie. But these children grow up seeing whites and all other groups as the symbol of success and blacks as less than they. This fills them with envy and jealousy and self-hate, keeping them an endless supply of dead-brains for these "holy" race-hustlers to brain-wash and lead into self-destruction.
The word "natives," put the color to it that comes to mind, conjures up low-class, dirt-poor, ignorant, backward, shabbily dressed whiners and beggers. If we woke up one morning and they had disappeared from the Earth who would miss them? What do they contribute to any society other than their whining and begging, alcoholism, drug addiction, petty crime, overcrowding in jails and prisons, a financial burden, running and jumping as a profession, and rioting and lootin'.
"We ain't stealing and lootin' -- that's a lie," they bellow. "We is revolutionaries liberating this stuff, liberating wine, whiskey, and beer, TVs, tennis shoes, clothes and furniture -- that's why we wear our britches low, showing our booties, we is revolutionaries . . . ."
Race-hustlers in black communities have elevated race hustling to a business. They take black children of every generation and deaden their brains with "God made us all equal." Any intelligent person knows that's a lie. But these children grow up seeing whites and all other groups as the symbol of success and blacks as less than they. This fills them with envy and jealousy and self-hate, keeping them an endless supply of dead-brains for these "holy" race-hustlers to brain-wash and lead into self-destruction.
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
Culture-less, Clue-less
"My mama and daddy gave me this name . . ." he was saying.
"I don't care who gave it to you, it's from people of a different culture," the man told him.
"I don't know nothing 'bout some people who got off a slave boat -- my language is English and um is who I is and that's all um is. I ain' trying to be sump'um I ain't."
Years back even when it had been brought to them with burning buildings, bullets, blood, dying -- and heard all over the world -- they had peed in their britches like frightened mamas' boys. Westernized "blacks" without a unique culture are walking in a mine field throughout the world, doomed to self-destruct.
If an Afrikan American is a politician and represents the U.S.A. among politicos from other countries and cultures he or she is at a tremendous disadvantage. These politicos in other countries have been accustomed for centuries to dealing with Anglos or white-skinned politicos; they've seen Afrikan American politicians in newspapers, magazines, movies, and on television primarily involved in community politics, demonstrating and haranguing against discrimination and for more food stamps and bigger welfare checks. Politicians in "black" communities are expected to compete with each other for black approval and votes by taking issues that can be bent to accuse whites for blacks lack of education, for blacks being drug addicts and alcoholics, for stealing, robbing, raping, assaulting, murdering and filling jails and prisons. Black politicians are never associated with being concerned about internaional affairs or foreign policy -- neither are their constituents.
Dignitaries born into centuries-old cultures pass on cultural features and customs to their children a need to be loyal to a firm foundation in their identity. They do not know -- because it isn't PC to mention -- that Afrikan Americans have no foundation in a firm, unique identity; once Afrikan Americans issue from their mother in birth they hit the deck and they'er on their own, zeroing in on European languages, names, and customs. Slowly it seeps into them that something's not according to Hoyle in them, and they wonder who's responsible.
"Go git yo hair cut, boy, that preacher don't want you coming to Jesus' house wit' yo hair all woolly," his mama warns him. "And you come wit' me, girl, them preachers don't want to look at no nappy-haired girls. We got to go git our hair straightened, and we need some mo' bleaching cream for our skin." Self-hate tinged with madness passed down generation after generation. A foreign dignitary knows none of this; he knows only that he's shaking the hand of a black smacking gum who has no unique culture, has the identity of people who don't identify as black, and his political experience is limited to issues that he can bend to accuse whites of "racism."
"I don't care who gave it to you, it's from people of a different culture," the man told him.
"I don't know nothing 'bout some people who got off a slave boat -- my language is English and um is who I is and that's all um is. I ain' trying to be sump'um I ain't."
Years back even when it had been brought to them with burning buildings, bullets, blood, dying -- and heard all over the world -- they had peed in their britches like frightened mamas' boys. Westernized "blacks" without a unique culture are walking in a mine field throughout the world, doomed to self-destruct.
If an Afrikan American is a politician and represents the U.S.A. among politicos from other countries and cultures he or she is at a tremendous disadvantage. These politicos in other countries have been accustomed for centuries to dealing with Anglos or white-skinned politicos; they've seen Afrikan American politicians in newspapers, magazines, movies, and on television primarily involved in community politics, demonstrating and haranguing against discrimination and for more food stamps and bigger welfare checks. Politicians in "black" communities are expected to compete with each other for black approval and votes by taking issues that can be bent to accuse whites for blacks lack of education, for blacks being drug addicts and alcoholics, for stealing, robbing, raping, assaulting, murdering and filling jails and prisons. Black politicians are never associated with being concerned about internaional affairs or foreign policy -- neither are their constituents.
Dignitaries born into centuries-old cultures pass on cultural features and customs to their children a need to be loyal to a firm foundation in their identity. They do not know -- because it isn't PC to mention -- that Afrikan Americans have no foundation in a firm, unique identity; once Afrikan Americans issue from their mother in birth they hit the deck and they'er on their own, zeroing in on European languages, names, and customs. Slowly it seeps into them that something's not according to Hoyle in them, and they wonder who's responsible.
"Go git yo hair cut, boy, that preacher don't want you coming to Jesus' house wit' yo hair all woolly," his mama warns him. "And you come wit' me, girl, them preachers don't want to look at no nappy-haired girls. We got to go git our hair straightened, and we need some mo' bleaching cream for our skin." Self-hate tinged with madness passed down generation after generation. A foreign dignitary knows none of this; he knows only that he's shaking the hand of a black smacking gum who has no unique culture, has the identity of people who don't identify as black, and his political experience is limited to issues that he can bend to accuse whites of "racism."
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
Low And Outside
The bottom of the ninth inning and the bases loaded. The score 3 to zero in favor of the team fielding. Two outs. The count on the batter three balls two strikes. Victory or defeat riding on the last pitch. It has to be a homer.
The team fielding has stolen bases, tried to injure opposing players sliding into bases, threatened referees, been at the top of its raunchy game all season long; yet carrying the support of the masses by bribing them with encouragement when they riot in the streets for more foodstamps, more welfare checks, against alleged police brutality, for open borders for illegal immigrants, terrorists, criminals, diseased people, and demanding that such people be able to vote without identification, and demanding their rights from a country that they're not a citizen of, always bellowing: "No justice no peace!"
The team at bat has endured insults of being called racists for believing that people have the right to choose whom they want to associate with; are called persecutors of the poor and are cursed for being against abortion; disparged for not wanting to distribute their hard earned wealth among those who refuse to accept responisbility for their actions.
The team at bat has prepared intelligently, has studied the opposing team's favorite pitch from all angles, knows by the pitcher's blink or twitch of a jaw muscle how fast the pitch will come. It is that team's bread-and-butter pitch. Years of perfecting the tactic of bending the truth, of labeling anyone a racist who dares criticize some low-life criminal "of color," or of condemning some race-hustling preacher or politician rides in this pitch and when it reaches the plate the batter slams it out of the park and rounds the bases shouting: "There's your Justice!"
The team fielding has stolen bases, tried to injure opposing players sliding into bases, threatened referees, been at the top of its raunchy game all season long; yet carrying the support of the masses by bribing them with encouragement when they riot in the streets for more foodstamps, more welfare checks, against alleged police brutality, for open borders for illegal immigrants, terrorists, criminals, diseased people, and demanding that such people be able to vote without identification, and demanding their rights from a country that they're not a citizen of, always bellowing: "No justice no peace!"
The team at bat has endured insults of being called racists for believing that people have the right to choose whom they want to associate with; are called persecutors of the poor and are cursed for being against abortion; disparged for not wanting to distribute their hard earned wealth among those who refuse to accept responisbility for their actions.
The team at bat has prepared intelligently, has studied the opposing team's favorite pitch from all angles, knows by the pitcher's blink or twitch of a jaw muscle how fast the pitch will come. It is that team's bread-and-butter pitch. Years of perfecting the tactic of bending the truth, of labeling anyone a racist who dares criticize some low-life criminal "of color," or of condemning some race-hustling preacher or politician rides in this pitch and when it reaches the plate the batter slams it out of the park and rounds the bases shouting: "There's your Justice!"
Saturday, November 1, 2014
Witchdoctor Murders
Pray for the thousands of American soldiers sent to that bedlam of EBOLA. Afrika is like a place trapped and ruled by witchdoctors in a time-zone of illiteracy, wretched squalor, and zombi supersticion of the stone age.
For centuries the people there have been ruled by corrupt dictators who see them only as potential dollars and slaves. These corrupt "leaders" have been getting rich with the millions of dollars sent from American and European governments to eradicate the poverty, but the rulers distribute the money among themselves and and the influential members of their clan. And the witchdoctors, in addition to "removing" or "casting" evil spells for every bit of pittance these peasants can scrape up, receive rewards from the rulers for using their "holy" powers to keep the masses frightened and groveling.
Sooner or later, before the terrorists corral these hungry, half-naked masses, someone in the American and European governments must have the courage to read the riot act to these Afrikan "leaders" taking our tax dollars and vacationing and frolicking in Las Vegas and European cities.
In a whisper we hear: "Oh, no, we can't say these things. It's not diplomatic. We'll hurt their feelings. Terrorists can walk in promising them more beans and rice and we'll have all of Afrika against us . . . why, my God, we must always show love -- even for those trying to kill us."
"But as long as illiteracy and uncleanliness are allowed to exist uncontested so will disease."
"Oh, God, please don't mention anything negative again. We know that negative things must be corrected, but it helps to pretend that we don't see them."
"But the natives tell us that they must perform certain rituals with the bodies of their dead relatives and friends infected with EBOLA. The witchdoctors told them that our medicine make them die. They threaten to kill us in the villages -- can we mention that . . . ?"
For centuries the people there have been ruled by corrupt dictators who see them only as potential dollars and slaves. These corrupt "leaders" have been getting rich with the millions of dollars sent from American and European governments to eradicate the poverty, but the rulers distribute the money among themselves and and the influential members of their clan. And the witchdoctors, in addition to "removing" or "casting" evil spells for every bit of pittance these peasants can scrape up, receive rewards from the rulers for using their "holy" powers to keep the masses frightened and groveling.
Sooner or later, before the terrorists corral these hungry, half-naked masses, someone in the American and European governments must have the courage to read the riot act to these Afrikan "leaders" taking our tax dollars and vacationing and frolicking in Las Vegas and European cities.
In a whisper we hear: "Oh, no, we can't say these things. It's not diplomatic. We'll hurt their feelings. Terrorists can walk in promising them more beans and rice and we'll have all of Afrika against us . . . why, my God, we must always show love -- even for those trying to kill us."
"But as long as illiteracy and uncleanliness are allowed to exist uncontested so will disease."
"Oh, God, please don't mention anything negative again. We know that negative things must be corrected, but it helps to pretend that we don't see them."
"But the natives tell us that they must perform certain rituals with the bodies of their dead relatives and friends infected with EBOLA. The witchdoctors told them that our medicine make them die. They threaten to kill us in the villages -- can we mention that . . . ?"
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