Happy New "Upside Down" Year

"I'm not calling any man or woman a cake, sir."
"Then, doctor, why're you telling me about flour, and butter, and pineapple and that stuff?"
"Didn't you say, sir, that you want to remain the same as  you are,  never change?"
"That's right.  I wanna celebrate that news with my wife when that clock strikes 12 and that ball drops on Times Square in New York."
"For the thousands you're paying me I'll make that possible or give you your money back.  Now I want you to think of making a cake.  I know you'll agree that one needs flour for that.  If you choose cheap ingredients you're going to  have a cheap cake, an imitation cake . . ."

"And, doctor, I don't like anything cheap.  I want the best."
"The flour is the body of the cake, meat, bones, blood, and brains, and, sir, you're blessed to be a fine specimen of well-muscled manhood . . ."
"I'll not lie, doctor, never approved of lying, I've always put the best ingredients in my body --"
"Truth, intelligence, courage, ambition, these are excellent ingredients to put in a good body -- not destructiveness, ignorance, rioting, looting, burning, whooping and hollering to Jesus on Sunday and lying on white police and other whites on Monday, hawking black people this and black people that, but wanting only the identities of Anglos, Spaniards, French, Portuguese, and Arabs, people who don't identify as black; these are the ingredients that hypocritical people cultivate in their worthless subculture and pass on to their children generation after generation . . ."

"Doctor, thank God those negative ingredients don't touch me anywhere."
"Then, sir, I can assure you that like a pineapple Upside Down Cake, you, with all your wonderful ingredients, you're going to look and be the same no matter which way anybody looks at you, up or upside down or all around."
"And, doctor, I know my wife will be happy to know that."
"Happy New 'Upside Down' Year, sir, and pay my secretary on the way out."

Lives Still Jive

"Stop jiving."
"It's as if they belong to that black group that should be called Black Lives Still Jive."
"In what way?"
"Look at it.  We're threatened inside and outside our country by Muslim terrorists and she says that he's being used to aid the  terrorists and he says that she lies about everything.  And some 30 niggs got shot up in one of our biggest cities and those in that black group raising so much hell didn't open their mouths about it because if they'd tried as usual to blame it on whites, everybody'd know that they were flat-out lying."
"Yeah, and you're not jiving about that."
"Stop saying 'jive'.  That word went out of style some 75 years ago.  Say 'That's messed up.' "

"So did -- or should have -- blaming others, specifically whites, for our incompetence of  over a 100 years.  And that's no jive."
"It's jive when after over a 100 years you consider tacking ropes to your hair to give you long hair and dyeing your hair blonde and red, your major so-called cultural feature is trying to imitate the hair of whites. It's like before that political correctness crap took over we used to greet each other with 'What's up, my nigg?'  It implied togetherness, partners.  Now, political correctness want us to say, 'What's up, my n-word?'  Like saying to a white person that you're tight with, 'What's up, my peck-word?'  Or to a Spanish-speaking person, 'What's up, my spi-word?' or to a Chinese, 'What's up, my Chin-word?'  And that's not just jive or messed up, it's uked up."

TKOee, KOee

"You might think my style unorthodox, but I have my personal way of getting at the truth, and I'm just one of the testers and you're the testee.  I'm an ol', experienced white guy and you're a young, inexperienced black guy.  You  got a problem with that?"
"No sir."
"Look at my face.  Can you believe that when I was young I was a handsome ladies' man?  Don't lie."
"Your nose and cheekbones are puffed . . . some old scares over your top lip . . ."

"Gifts from the ring.  Truth about what you're seeing is important in our work.  Says on your application that you played football and basket ball in high school, was an MP in the Army, team activities.  And it's not what each individual likes or dislikes on a team, it's what's good for the team.  Policing is a team activity, firemen are a team, preachers, teachers, lawyers are teams and make decisions good for their activities as a team.  You have a problem taking orders?"
"Not at all."
Criminals are a team.  Some want to kill police, others try to avoid us, and others are just scumbag  thugs and try to show their disrespect for us by resisting arrest whenever we confront them.  We have to teach them to respect us or we're useless as protectors of the people.  We have to use force to overpower them.  You have a problem with that?"

"Not at all.  As an MP I had to deal with some ugly people, men and women, black and white."
"Many black people call us racists for defending ourselves when attacked by black law-breakers.  They'll call you and uncle tom for doing the job you're dedicated to perform.  Some of the race-hustling blacks accuse white police of forcing black police to whip on blacks or they can't be a part of the police team -- as if a black policeman doesn't have sense enough to know when he's looking at a possible TKOee or a definite KOee.  You have a problem with anything I've said?"
"None at all."
"Welcome to the real world."

Behind The Language

Thank God, we were raised and nurtured in a society that makes me uneasy around people who look like Afrikans or Indians or I see traces of Afrikan or Indian in them, but they call themselves something else, denying their Afrikan or Indian ancestry, I told them.
'You won't have to say anything,' one of the blacks said.  'We don't want them to know that you understand their language.  They're bringing their interpreter, but we don' t trust them.'  If I feel myself getting nervous, I told them, I'll yell something and you can kick me on the foot to slow me down.

At the meeting, the five of us blacks and the six of them, including their interpreter, sat around this long, tan collapsible table.  The interpreter, black, about 6'4", even seated was head and shoulders above everyone else.  It was not what one of them said -- I agreed with some of it -- but the outlandish, hypocritical interpretation shocked and insulted me.
The man looked at the interpreter and said, 'You can verify that in our country variety of color is ignored.  We're all equal, just one people . . .'  Must be a hell'uva dull country, I thought.  '. . . we want to deal with this tension between our two groups in this country.' he continued.  'In our country we don't have any of this black annoyance some of these brutes are always causing . . .'  The interpreter interrupted.  'He said that we want to work with the brilliant black people causing problems in this country . . .'  I let out a loud "ouch!" and the black sitting next to me whopped my foot and everybody jerked in my direction.

' . . . many people consider us to be an emotional people,' the man continued, 'but much of that emotion is performance, fulfilling the personality associated with this identity we have, but not like some of these brutes.  One minute they're sullen and solemn as if on some kind of tranquilizers  and the next moment they're screaming and hollering, rioting in the streets and on college campuses, burning buildings, looting, and shooting police, and acting like wild savages --'  "Aarrgh . . ." gurgling from my throat, I leaped up and losing my balance grabbed the edge of the table, but fell to the floor, groaning "aarrgh, aarragh . . ." and the others had jumped to their feet so rapidly and roughly that they knocked the table over on me.  I felt as if all blood had drained from my body and I had turned completely pale.  They dragged me out into the air and after about ten minutes I was back to normal and glad to see that those six strange people were no longer there.  I told the black dudes what the speaker had said in his language.
'We need somebody we can trust in all these languages.  Got people waving the American flag one minute and the next waving the flag of some other country,' one of the blacks said.  'You know any Arabic?'
I knew the history between blacks and Arabs and told him that I didn't have anything to talk to Arabs about.  I also told him that I stayed away from black, white, red, brown, and Asian people.
'Then what're you doing with us?' he asked.
"Come on, now," I told him, "We hypocrites gotta stick together or the hypocrites around us will bury us."

Anomaly Or Madness?

"Dr., I'm in a quandary with an anomaly and feel the safety of our country, and therefore my safety, threatened."
"You sound okay."
"I think the way something sounds has a lot to do with the problem."
"In what way?"
"We live in the richest, most powerful country on earth, right?"
"Right."

"And millions of people below the Sahara in Afrika still live in the most primitive conditions, even without schools in this 21st century, right?"
"True."
"Then, how is it that these Afrikans can outsmart these rich, intelligent people in the richest, most powerful country on earth?  The Justice Department is bombarded with thousands of cases every year of Afrikans bamboozling rich people out of thousands of dollars.  And these rich people have never even met these Afrikans except through emails."
"How does that affect the safety of you and that of our country?"
"Well, if these half-educated, and even uneducated Afrikans, can scheme our people out of all this money what chance do many of our people have against conniving Muslim terrorists?  And what about these black dudes who're so ignorant in the 21st century that they can be persuaded to walk around with their britches below their knees?  Wouldn't it be extremely easy for Muslim terrorists to convince them to do anything?"

"Obviously, there's a flaw somewhere."
"I've given it much thought and see some of the bamboozling in our politics."
"Now, I think you're getting to the heart of it."
"I hear many politicians in our country and other countries trying to sound so self-righteous and Godly, coaching that Muslims are welcome to worship in our country.  They don't differentiate between righteous Muslims and Muslim terrorists.  But I don't hear any Muslim leaders in any Muslim countries saying that Christians are welcome to worship in their country.  I constantly hear about Muslim terrorists massacring Christians, destroying Christian temples, and artifacts.  These politicians seem eager to curry favor with any Muslims in order to influence Christian constituents to open their doors to refugees who might be undercover Muslim terrorists.  No matter how much evil is committed by Muslim terrorists, as long as it happens at the doors of others, to these hard-headed people it's just 'Oh, how horrible,' and it's only when the evil knocks on the door of these hard-headed people does it become 'Why didn't these politicians or somebody do something to keep this evil from our doors?' "

Jefe

"In my assessment of the incident didn't I clearly say 'work place violence?' "
"Jefe, for the first time, you also said that it might be an act of terror."
"That was merely an expected 'aside.' "
"How does it compare to that Muslim murdering all those soldiers at Fort Hood?"
"Please don't say 'Muslim murdering' . . . it sounds so horrid . . ."
"But wasn't he a Muslim?"

"Yes, of course, but the religion of Muslims means peace and -- actually. I guess, it all comes down to a question of semantics.  'Murder' sounds so undignified and, after all, he acted out of love for his religion and I don't think that a man should be prosecuted for loving his religion . . ."
"But this 'incident' -- your word -- has an aspect of conspiracy about it --"
"Now, please, the FBI is still investigating, let us wait until all the facts are in.  And if that Fort Hood business was declared to be work place violence, and more than twice as many people died there as in this incident, how can this not be ultimately considered as work place violence?  There is a need for consistency in these matters."

"What are you expecting?"
"Nothing definite,  But I have a feeling for these political waves.  I feel a shift in the sentiment of the people."
"Jefe, I'm going to be brutally frank.  That address you made yesterday, considering the subject -- bullets, bombs, men,women, children, babies being slaughtered -- watching an ant crawl across a biscuit would have been more stirring.  Jefe, you keep saying that you're The Chief.  You some kind'er Indian?"

You Happy Now, Scumbags!

Listen, you scumbags, this is what Muslim terrorists are thinking:

"Don't people jump over the fence surrounding your Capitol whenever they want?  Near the very  steps of your Capitol don't people scream hatred for the United States and shout with impunity that it be brought down?  Isn't this also our demand?  Nobody in the Capitol opens his or her mouth to condemn these anti-Americans.  Don't people march through the streets shouting death to the police with impunity?  Aren't the people raising hell in the streets the same people provoking racial disunity by race-hustling on university and college campuses?  Wasn't there a sign among these marchers praising ISIS?

"Now that your country is in danger and Americans in and out of the Armed Forces are prepared to defend your country don't you show  disrespect for them by calling terrorism 'work-place violence?'  Hell, we Muslim terrorists throughout the world know that we can use you hell raisers for propaganda against your own country.  Our violence in your country feeds off of your anti-American rhetoric and violence."

Are you happy now, you scumbags!

Cultural Rigor Mortis

At best it is a living death awash with stiffening mediocrity.  At its worst it is self-delusional prancing, sending a nation careening with despair and ruin.  Witness the lowing of standards in institutions of learning, gagging young minds with the input of street-corner, pool-hall, barber-shop mentalities; pressing university presidents to cower to glib threats of self-appointed revolutionaries when in reality these raucous, cop-hating hoodlums and bimbos are only inferior whiners, calling themselves gangsters but would not be more than a pimple on a real gangster's butt.

Into that international world of song come rag-a-tag thugs ballyhooing as music and descended from a whirling monstrosity of jail-house rhymes, filling the empty pockets of "anti-capitalist" with millions under a blaze called "Dip Dop," popularizing a word of scorn the world over that begins with "n" and ".. ger"ends and not a "noted educated" voice from people dark of hue uttered "Refrain!"  But, lo, in some employment or institution or any legit endeavor if one of lighter hue were to dare to speak, even in jest, "n . . ger," why all those hypocrites of darker hue would fall upon that poor, disconcerted soul screaming their "outrage."

"The country be burned to hell!  Death to police!" roar the ignorant rabble;  murdering police, rioting, looting and burning businesses.  In and out of courthouses, lawyers clamor for protection of "dees sevil raits" of terrorist sympathizers.  The homeland seething, fearing ruin.

"Oh, to end this blustering babble and back to the days of joyful, carefree plucking in the Cotton Belt, to strut and lie unhampered  with some Rosa Lee in a pure, holy snuggle  of 'Love-Fight At The OK Corral' beneath a wide wagon of cotton while a limitless bowl-shaped blue, scripted with sunlight, witnessed the performance..

"Up quickly now!  Only fools deny that Muslim terrorists and terrorist sympathizers here applauded, rejoicing, when our homeland was attacked by Muslim terrorists in 9/11!"

Disconnecting The Connection

He stood with her now around 2 in the morning outside the luxurious club where they had eaten food only the rich could afford, sipped the expensive champagne, danced, celebrating their third anniversary of marriage.  They represented the rich set, envied and even hated by many race hustlers. He was the handsome husband, she the beautiful wife, dressed in their finest.

He gazed at her.  As far back as he could remember, women like her had been shown to him as defining female beauty, defining female intelligence; women like her were the epitome of female courage, all her female parts smooth, symmetrically joined.  She defined femininity.  He unbuttoned his suit coat, took out a small case and opened it.  "No necklace is a match for your human beauty, but --"

"What about me?" he heard
He jerked, half turning.  Is it human, he thought.  Some six feet from him, its large right hand hanging at its side resembled a paw.  It held a machete.  Loose, thick rolls of dirty looking woolen hair hung down from its large head, hiding parts of its dark face.  The picture of some half-civilized jungle dweller flashed through the husband's mind.  But this is the 21st century and we're in a modern city, and we're supposed to be modern humans, he thought.  Distract it.  He dropped the case on the sidewalk, saw the thing's eyes glance at it.

"I want her," it said, pointing the machete at her.
"I'm a police officer," the husband said.
The thing moved its right foot forward.  raised the machete over it's head, and was in the process of lifting his left foot when the officer executed two moves that seemed to flow as a simple motion.  His left hand pushed his wife away and his right hand went inside his coat at the waist and came out firing until the gun's clip was empty.  Now the fools will be out on the streets protesting again about police brutality, he thought.

Is Black Meat Mortal?

"Why are you walking the streets with that sign?"
" 'Cause I'm scared, doctor."
""Of what?"
"I think I'm abnormal or going mad."
"Why?"
"I think I had a dream of God talking to me."
"Are you a preacher?"
"No.  I'm just a normal person.  That's why it's hard to believe that God talked to me."
"What did you and God talk about?"
"First, I believe that God is a Spirit, so I can't see It and It's voice came out of this white cloud high in the sky at night when I was sleep or thought I was sleep.  And the voice said, 'Who are you?  What is your identity?'  And I thought, If this is God It should  know who I am.  But I gave It my name and It said:

'That's a European identity.  I didn't make any black Europeans.  What're you doing with it?'
'I can't lie, God, because you'll know I'm lying.  This identity gets a lot of exceptions made for me.  It can get into colleges and universities over other people who're more qualified to be there. It can get me jobs I'm not qualified for.  It can get me roles in movies and plays just because I have this identity.  God, if I was writing a book I could fill pages with the exceptions made -- still in the 21st century -- for me because of this identity.  But I believe you already know of them.  And you know, God, sometimes I wonder, with all the exceptions made for black people, is black meat mortal?  Does it never feel pressured to question some things that we're taught because it is immortal?'
'You ever hear of a word called brain?'
'Oh, my God, yes/.'
'Just think of all the marvels created in the world by a race of people using their brain.  Then think of the people who want leaders who will tell them what to think and what not to think, what to do and what not to do.  Think of how many of your people, acting like zombies, have never created any marvels.'  And that's why I'm scared, doctor, and walking around with this sign."

Open The Gates!

"How selfish and unfeeling of you to even think of asking them for an identification.  Don't you dare detain them at some gate or fence.  There are thousands behind them pushing and cursing them not to block their way.  They all just want to get to some country where they, like the illegal immigrants, can get on welfare, free lodging, free garments, free food, money and a car while their countrymen whom they left behind are fighting to defend and improve their homeland.  We hear their cries, feel their suffering.  They have walked, limping with pain and hunger, hundreds of miles from country to country, fear haunting them through dark nights on rickety boats, many washed overboard by mountainous waves in the darkness, drowning them and wailing babies in their arms in dark, icy water.

"And we lie warm and safe in our wide comfortable beds; oh, how guilty we feel, how guilty we are for enjoying our blessed America that our forefathers and mothers fought and died building.  We listen to our politicians shouting, 'Open the gates, let the thousands come in, let them all in, let these poor suffering souls come to us; think of how they, like the illegal immigrants, will repay us with votes for our party for they shall surely organize and demand their right to vote, and other rights, oh, the people of my party will support them in obtaining their rights.  The people of my party are such compassionate people, with such values.  That's who we are in my party . . . .' "

"What!"  You mean that the politicians of your party are so super intelligent that without seeing even a single refugee among the thousands that want to come into our country they know that there are no disguised Muslim terrorists among them, even though they also know that subterfuge and abusing women are dominant  features of their culture?  Wouldn't it be poetic justice if these people pleading for these refugees to flood our country, as in Europe, were the first to be killed by those who turned out to be disguised Muslim terrorists?

War! War! War!

We are at war and all groups not with us to protect our homeland are against us.  They are against the protection of our mothers and fathers, our sons and daughters, our brothers and sisters, our pregnant women, our wives and husbands, our new born babies.

Those groups causing racial tension on our college campuses, raising hell in our streets, and especially those anti-police groups and blacks causing havoc in our cities by murdering other blacks are praised by the terrorists.  These groups openly declare their hatred for our American society, as do the terrorists, in their newspapers and in their endless harangues that they have taken to the very steps of our Capitol, under the nose of the one in The Office and he dared not open his mouth against them while Muslim terrorists are chopping off the heads of Christians.

The Muslim terrorists are not coming; they're already here.  Do we think that these Muslim terrorists in Paris just dropped in out of the blue?  It took time for them to plan, undetected, this murdering of thousands of men and women in our great city of New York on 9/11; took time for that Muslim terrorist, wearing the uniform of a U.S. soldier, to plan how to murder U.S. soldiers at Fort Hood; took time for  those two Muslim terrorist to plan how to murder men and women at the Boston Marathon

What sane person  would associate with people trying to destroy our American society?  Isn't that what Muslim terrorists have declared that that is what they plan to do?

Football'sTwisted CheerLeaders

"How can one person be responsible for what some unknowns among thousands of people say or scribble about blacks?"
"I'm a qualified black man and I say  to you that whoever is in charge of people, whether they're three or three thousand, he's responsible for what any one of them does."
"Are you a qualified black man -- whatever in the hell that means -- or are you a qualified teacher?  I objectively propose to you that this is not about racism on any college campus.  It is about people using violence and a form of hostage-taking to force other people to --"

"No, no, no, you uncle tom, you're not being objective, you're being anti-black, you're --"
"You didn't allow me to finish.  A college is not supposed to be a place where only some minorities, people of color, can express a point of view --"
"You're not only insulting our football players you're trashing learned teachers and preachers and politicians who support these attacks on racism and --"
"And it's that support encouraging the ignorant masses to riot that has spread racial unrest throughout our country --"
"You can't question the right of learned black scholars, preachers, teachers, and politicians to attack racism wherever  we find --"

"I believe people who're being pushed, forced to accept those whom they don't wish to associate with have the right to push back!"
"And I believe that we -- especially in education -- must turn our schools into laboratories of intolerance.  Intolerance must be our mission against all those who disagree with us!"
"Then these 'learned' black scholars, preachers, teachers, students, and politicians must agree with you because they're going bananas over being called some uncomplimentary names but don't open their mouth over blacks murdering each other by the hundreds in so-called black communities.  Is that twisted or what?"

"No matter what you say, we're proud to support our football players not only for their exploits on the gridiron but for their scholastic achievements at a university level."
"I hope you continue to be proud of them because now every time they run out on a football field they and the spectators will feel added weight of new pressure, multiplied each time they make a mistake."

"No Matter, Never Mind"

"What is the matter with those crazy people?"
"It's the same old bit about matter, madam."
"What does that mean?"
"Well, people think that they exist as matter and need matter such as food to sustain that matter."
"But they don't grow any food to feed their matter; we do that for them -- and the world."
"And thy don't make cloth to clothe that matter that they think they're made of.  They can't conceive of doing that for themselves.  They haven't learned that all is mind, that everything that exists is only in the mind."

"Then you're saying that all this street violence only exists in the mind?"
"They're a one-track mind.  They see skyscrapers, homes, businesses only as relative to them."
"But they don't produce lumber, cement, iron, and steel to construct things of matter.  We do that."
"And, of course, none of that could come about without a mind . . ."
"Where is the mind?  Can you see it?  Is it not housed in matter?"
"As I said, they're a one-track mind.  For centuries they've been bringing to our mind this hypocritical business  that everyone is against them, that police are against them and arrest them and kill them and they're poor innocent law abiding people who never do anything wrong.  They've refined it, calling it civil rights and Justice or no Justice and other names, making it a hustle.  And this mind didn't suddenly appear fully formed.  It existed in primitive forms, growing into excellence and power in some places, now called strong cultures, and lagging as tag-along-subcultural minds in other places."

"As you explain it, these tag-along-subcultural minds remind me of children making a ruckus over some matter that doesn't interest anybody but them as a hustle, and being told, 'Now you young'uns just shut up or we'll send you to bed without any supper.' "
"Well, whether you believe there's only mind or matter and mind, just remember the famous British philosopher who supposedly said, 'No matter, never mind.' "

Relative Meets Kinfolk

"Are you telling me that if I call somebody relative it don't mean he's kin to me?"
"If you had a culture worth anything it would have taught you that relative feeds on time and space."
"Space!  What the freaking hell are you talking 'bout?  My son ain' in no space, he's right here on earth where I can see him."
"Where is he, madam, I don't see him.  Do you see him?"

"Naw, I don't see him.  He's at home or at work.  That's why he ain' here."
"He's in another space."
"He ain' in no space -- you in space, spaced out."
"Now, that's relative."
"I know you crazy now.  How can space be somebody's relative?"
"It can't."
"But you just said --"

"I know.  You see, space can't be relative to anybody, space is space, but everyone is relative to space, see what I mean?"
And don't believe you do either.  You say my kinfolk ain' my relative, that they're in space, and they relative to space, but space ain' relative to them -- thank God all black men don't talk like you."
"And thank God, madam, all black women like you are relative."

Marketing The Dead

We were sitting in a fast-food place and I said, "Are you telling me that your leader knows all truth, that he can't lie?"
"How can he lie, he was taught by God."
"He can't make a mistake?"
"I b'lieve everything he tells me."
"What about thinking for yourself, questioning . . ?"
"That's what I like about him, I no longer have to be in that confusion of thinking about stuff.  He tells me who and what to b'lieve and what not to b'lieve, what and who to like and what and who to hate."
"Don't you think that makes you like a slave?"

"You know I was in the penitentiary and we had people coming in making us feel guilty for things we did, telling us we had to accept responsibility for our actions.  And when he came in it was like when you sleeping and somebody wakes you up.  It's like you was dead.  Listening to him I felt it wasn't my fault I done that thieving and robbing; it was them rich and powerful people who run society causing me to do them things."
"So your life is in the hands of someone else?  You can't make a decision for yourself?  Then, you belong in an institution, need someone to to be responsible for you, as if you were a child.  What do you think about that?"
"Uh . . . I don't need to think about it . . . uh, you want that biscuit on your plate?  You ain' gon' eat it, is you?"

"We" Meaning What?

"What did you say your name is?"
"I didn't say.  We try not to use names or telephones or contact through computers.  It has to be face to face recognition."
"And how did you learn about me?"
"In the Middle East we monitor you people by TV.  You people are all over TV raising hell in the streets, and we have much in common . . ."
"Black people don't have nothing in common wit' nobody.  Ain't nobody in the world lak us."
"You know we're anti-Jewish and many of your black groups have anti-Jewish and anti-U.S.A. people.  At that rally next door to you people's Capitol we heard you people, 'Uproot U.S.A.' "

"And we mean that.  We gon' raise hell and . . ."
"There's something I have to explain to you if we're gonna work together.  We only have a handful of blacks in our country and they identify as Arabs.  As they say in your country, 'You have to know what side your bread is buttered on.'  Those anti-American and anti-Israel speeches at that rally were beneficial for your groups and our revolutionaries, even if some people call us terrorists -- although the one in The Office of your country refuses to call us Islamic terrorists no matter how many Christians' heads we cut off or people we blow up or burn alive."
"Yeah, and once we git rid of them police we gon' really be in charge . . ."

"By 'we' you mean what?"
"Us."
"If you consider well, you'll recall that you've seen very few of your 'us' among our people."
"You said that to say what?"
"Once we take over here -- and we're going to.  Many of us are already here, and more are coming in with those hundreds of thousands the one in The Office here is bringing in.  We can't have that divisive black talk from you people among our revolutionaries . . . once we take over, we're in charge of everything and everybody.  If your 'us' tries to riot, loot, burn, and kill our police under our rule, as they do in the streets of your democracy, there won't be enough of your 'us' left to feed an ant."

A Gentle Shooting

" . . . blacks born in the Western world can never be Afrikans and Afrikans born in Afrika can never be Afrikan Americans or Afro Cubans or Afro Brazilians or Afro Puerto Ricans . . ." he was saying from the pulpit as I went in, joining some 60 or 70 blacks having a "Session" in their small church.  He was a tall, slim black dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and black tie, and his well-shaped head was bald and shiny as if it had been greased.  He had invited me.

". . . the reason we should logically call ourselves Afrikan Americans is that we've been influenced by Afrika and America.  America being the dream of the Europeans.  Anybody with any sense knows that some of our people will live and die with that European touch more outstanding than that Afrikan touch, and with others it will be vice versa.  So, whether we call ourselves Afrikan Americans or Afro Cubans or Afro Brazilians or Afro Puerto Ricans, we're still brothers and sisters of the black race, and we must identify with that race.  How else do we distinguish ourselves from those who don't identify as blacks -- Arabs, English, French, Spaniards, Portuguese, and Indians?  Our identity can't be based on color alone because we have brothers and sisters of all shades.  Some even in white skin.  Passing and getting rich . . . "  Loud laughter and applause interrupted him.

". . . when we walk down the streets in any country, nobody knows or cares what our name is or what language we speak or what our religion or politics is.  They just say, 'There goes one of those blacks.  They don't have a unique culture like us, they might do anything' . . ."  Some stood, applauding and laughing.
". . . and that has caused tremendous problems for our people and people that have anything to do with us.  Some of  us trying to be all-Afrikan and others wanting to be all-European.  We're taught that people are the embodiment of wherever they were and  whom they were with in their formative years.  Well, our ancestors, Afrikans and Europeans, on those slave ships were the beginning of our formative years,, and the unique formative years of a people must be reflected in their understanding of their culture, economics, politics, and religion -- for us the Animi-Ukristo . . ."  Wild shouting and  applause erupted in the place and the  speaker laughed and applauded.

". . . so, we need to decide what part of Afrika and what part of Europe we want in us.  Do we want the Afrika that's imitating Arabs or imitating the English, or the French or the Portuguese or whoever colonized them?  Or do we want the Afrika where in the 21st century millions still have no schools and are trapped in superstitious nonsense, mutilating their young daughters by cutting out their clitoris?  Amani iwe kwenu, Peace be upon you," he said.
"Amani iwe kwako, And peace be upon you!" they shouted, standing and applauding, laughing and embracing.
When I went up to him, he said, "Were my shots on target?"

Beware Thy "Friends"

"When we talked last week I meant to ask you about the rally"
"What rally?"
"The rally  that sounded anti-American and anti-Israel."
"What about it?"
"It was at the doorstep of the Capitol of our nation."
"Well, now, we can't be too hasty in judging . . ."
"Some of your former associates spoke at the rally.  What did you think of it?"

"Well . . . uh . . ."
"I remember during that rioting in Ferguson and other cities you and some other black politicians, preachers, and well-known athletes -- shall I say seemed to stoke the flames?  You even took that racial unrest to the U.N. in your speech there on September 24, although that anti-American and anti-Israel body hasn't a damned thing to do with our domestic issues --"
"Well . . . uh . . ."
"What do you think of Palestinians knifing Jewish men, women, and children, and throwing rocks at Jewish soldiers in the streets of Israel?"
"Well, now, we must be fair.  The Palestinians are our friends, too, and have rights --"
"Rights to kill Jews?"

"Well, uh . . . but, you see, you must consider . . ."
"If an anti-black rally had been held near the doorsteps of our country's Capitol would you have denounced it?"
"Well, uh, you see, uh -- there're circumstances that make that somewhat different . . ."
"Don't you think it strange that these black politicians, preachers, and well-known athletes who seemed to stoke the rioting with their "concern" for blacks haven't said anything against blacks killing each other in our cities as if they enjoy expressing their self-hate by shooting one another?"
"Uh . . . well . . . uh . . . no comment . . ."
"Thank you for answering my questions so enthusiastically."

Repeat Only In Whispers

"I've noticed lately that you're not grinning as often or as broadly as when you were first sworn in."
"Well . . ."
"Is The Office a more serious undertaking than you thought?"
"Well . . ."
"Is it like that ol' joke of the amateur baseball player after he'd been on a major league team for about a month.  He wrote home:  'Mom, I'll be coming home soon . . . the pitchers are starting to curve the balls.' "

"Well . . . one has to be truthful with himself about his qualifications ."
"The feeling here is that conspiracies against The Office -- especially from foreign governments -- are like those curve balls in the Major League . . ."
"It's not like in the movies.  They can arrange  the script to favor the top actor."
"In show-business, they prompt an entertainer to always smile for the cameras -- that's why I always wondered about that grinning you were doing and I would ask myself, 'Does he know the masked hatred he's got to endure from foreign leaders who've not dealt with one like him in the power of The Office?'  They've colonized people like you throughout the world, represent histories of Empires, fought centuries of wars to establish their countries . . . the power of The Office represents life or death not only for millions in our country but for millions in other countries . . . I guess that'll affect anyone's grin."
"One has to be truthful and confident about one's capabilities to execute in The Office . . . ."

The Chief

At six-years old he sat in an old rocking-chair in the living room watching his mother lying on a couch across the room.  "Poppa, " he'd called to his father who lay on the floor in the kitchen, "mama's dawdling on the couch again."
"Don't bother me, Mr. smarty pants, I'm having a wet-dream," his father had answered from the kitchen floor and mumbled, "that boy's headed for ruination."
One night coming out of the back of a lady's house where he'd been celebrating his nineteenth birthday he thought of jumping a two-foot fence separating the small yard of the house from an alley.  "You're a little groggy from drinking too much," he told himself, "just continue walking and step over it." Instantly, it became a challenge and he started to trot, intending  to stride over it, but the tip of  his left shoe struck the top of the fence and he plummeted, his head hitting the cement.  Much of the impact had been absorbed by his right hand, injuring a couple of knuckles.  He, however, had a headache for three days and started seeing flashes of light, hearing a voice in one say, "I want you to be my Chief. Go to a church . . ."

"What church . . ?"
"Any Church, and this is what I want you to do . . . ."
The following Sunday he burst through the door of a church and strode down the aisle, going toward the pulpit, shouting,  "And that man lived in the belly of a whale three days and nights . . !"  Abrupt silence muffled the church as all heads jerked toward  him, but he continued, ". . . didn't have no electricity down  there, no stove, no food, and no TV to watch football and basketball, and he came up out of there -- and if you take that literally, then this is the place where you should be learning about your culture, as other people do in their religious institutions --!"
"Blasphemy . . !" several shouted from the pews and two broad shouldered deacons rushed toward him.
"Don't touch him with impure hands, the Spirit is on him . . !" the preacher called out from the pulpit.
"Mockery . . !" screamed many from both sides of the aisle, and a stout black woman, straightened the blonde wig on her head, pushed to her feet and threw a Bible at him, but hit someone in the  pew next to him who jumped up and threw a Bible back at her, but hit someone else and Bibles began flying on both sides of the aisle as if they were Molotov Cocktails and a thunderous uproar filled the church, men, women, and children screaming and hollering and flinging whatever could be lifted, even straining and groaning to overturn the heavy pews as if they were in the streets over-turning cars to set afire or struggling to come out of shops with huge TVs or cases of beer, wine, and whiskey. The foundation of the church shook and chandeliers fell on people and pews and the  ceiling and roof trembled, scaring people half to death as they scrambled, running and tumbling on each other, their bodies jamming the route out of the church, and ceiling and roof caved in on them.
"Man, the preacher must have been really kicking it in there,"  an observer on the street said to a friend, as if he were talking about a hot, foot-stomping jazz performance or any other kind of entertainment.
"And not a cloud in the sky," his friend commented.  "Just beautiful sunshine.  Ain't never seen or heard of anything like that happening to a church before."
"Like they say, 'One man's pleasure is another man's poison.' "

By A Hair

"Everybody knows it, but they're afraid to say it.  It's the most powerful weapon our Party, The Flow, has."
"A large segment of The Tight Curl Party frowns when talking about it."
"Electing one like him to The Office would be an historic event in any Western World and Middle East Country.  We can show the world that we're not the race haters that the real racists, who're never mentioned, accuse us of being."
"We can come at him through his wife, picture her, The Lady, wearing an Afro . . ."

"Let's be realistic.  That Afro is a punch to the gut, an uppercut, a hard right to the chin, it's associated with the rough stuff of the '60s."
"Comparable to the wife of The Flow candidate stepping out sporting a military haircut . . ."
"Not even Miley Cyrus, with all that pulchritude and adorable audacity she has could pull that off."
"What about putting his wife in Korn Rows?"
"That's their cool look, and it goes down well with all segments of the population.  We've got to be more subtle.  I was thinking of coming at it through a scientific study as to whether a hair contains ingredients that measure one's intelligence . . . and conclude that it doesn't and that the God Spirit we believe in meant for some of us to have tight curls and others to have flowing locks.  That'll stir things up."

"I believe that knowing how you wear your hair can affect your goals in life shows intelligence."
"Maybe that segment in The Tight Curl Party is smart enough to know that the thing they have about hair is secondary to getting one of them in The Office."
"M-m-m,"

On Guard, For Real

"There are those who say, 'If I had the power, I would . . .' and they hate power, are jealous and envious of those with power."
"They're a contradiction."
"They don't see it that way.  They haven't dealt with the fact that if they had power they'd be hated too, by the powerless, as contenders hate the champ.  They wake up some mornings and the deranged hate is on their face, in their eyes, ready to explode on some innocent.  They hate to see a person smile or hear him or her laugh or express happiness in any way, especially if they consider that person to be of the lower class, as they are.  'What the hell does that ignorant scum find so wonderful to be happy about?' they think.  They forget, or maybe never knew, that one thing everyone, rich, poor, powerful, powerless, wants is happiness.  'Oh, ultimately, only with political philosophy can we persuade these justifiably angry people to cease killing and destroying,' they've heard some meek politicians say who're either ignorant or hypocrites, or both, to believe that one can reason with one who is mentally deranged.  'We will make mince meat of people like them,' the deranged hater mumbles.  What have those he wants to kill done to him?  They don't even know him or her?

"These deranged haters want desperately to be known, even if it kills them.  Why not satisfy them with their death?  Go on laughing, singing, dancing with the stars, playing, working, creating, but have someone on guard.  The deranged haters are watching, waiting; they're somebody's sons or daughters.  Our Armed Forces and police, alone, can't know them all.  For real.

Identity Thieves And Flashlights

"I say that 99% of you have stolen identities."
"And you can make us invisible?"
"You ever look for an object in a dark house or dark room?"
"You could be looking straight at it and not see it because of the darkness."
 "Say you stole an Anglo's or a Spaniard's identity.  Only a Spaniard or an Anglo can really see you because they know what their real people look and act like, and they see an imitation in that darkness you'r in.  The only way a non-Anglo or non-Spaniard can really see you is to look into that darkness you're in with a special flashlight."

"Flashlight?  You mean black as I am they can't see me during the day?"
"Not unless you shine that special light on yourself from that special flashlight -- and we got a special discount on these flashlights today."
"They can't really see me, but can they hear me?"
" 'Hello, is somebody here with me?  I hear a voice, but I don't see anybody.'  That's not true.  I really see you because I'm black like you, my brother.  I just said that to give you a sample of what it's like for someone who  hasn't seen this light."
"You mean I can walk down the street, get on buses and subways, go into buildings and nobody can really see me and recognize me from these ig'nant blacks rioting and looting and burning and teaching hate for police and all authority?"

"Exactly."
"How much is them flashlights?"
"Like I said.  They're on sale  today.  They're just a thousand dollars each, and you can get a box of them and be like a walking flashlight yourself, selling light to your family and friends, especially all these so-called blacks on TV  running their mouths about black this and black that."
"How many in a box?"
"Five."
"Will you take a check?"
"Of course, my brother."
"Gimme a box.  After I lighten up some friends, there's some jewelry stores, banks, and other places we'd like to visit."

Ingenuity's Black Suit

"Son, I named you Ingenuity the Sixth 'cause you gon' be the sixth daddy in this family and I been waiting till you was sixteen to explain to you this black suit 'cause with all this drug business, gangs, and blacks shootin' each other if a black boy make it to sixteen these days he sho'nuff lucky.  But this suit is like sump'm sacred to us.  It's the only suit I ever had, ever wanted.  My daddy passed it down to me, like his daddy passed it down to him and his daddy's daddy passed it down and as far as I can trace it back it's been passed down from all our daddies to all our daddies' daddies.

"We only puts it on twice in our life and that's when we gits married and when we dies.  Marriage is a serious business so you got to git into it like a black suit.  And when you laying in the casket you got to look  business-like, show the people that you been a serious man.  Of course, after that undertaker wheel you outta that church or chapel or wherever you was last looked at, it's been arranged that he give us back the black suit so we can pass it on and leave you naked 'cause that's  the way we come into this serious world.  I'm telling you  this 'cause we gitting into a situation wit people talking about 'our jobs,' and somebody talking 'taking our jobs.'  When people been doing thangs a certain way for generaions and somebody start messing wit'm doing thangs that way, we gon' have people politicking and taking advantage of that situation.

"I ain't got no education, ain't got no culture that teach me to want to have a business so I can hire our people, like other people do they people.  So, for generations we been going 'round talking about 'making beds, cleaning houses and offices, digging ditches, carrying other peoples' bags in airports, and all that kind of stuff as 'our jobs,' and ain't created a damn job.  Don't own a single job.  So I figure if we always complaining 'bout this and that for generations, we can't blame other people for nothin'. We can't be worth much if in the 21st century performing that kind of labor is what we still call 'our jobs,' can we?"

Stuff That Sentimental Spot

"If I said that I'm a Christian would you believe me?"
"Sure."
"Why?"
"Why would you lie about something like that?"
"People will say whatever is to their advantage."
"But I know your background.  You attended church."
"I also went to a Muslim school and there was the Muslim influence in my home, and some people think I'm a Muslim."
"Islam means 'peace' people say, and Muslim terrorists worship in mosques, but that doesn't mean that everyone who worships in a mosque is a terrorist."
"And some 'Christians,' preachers, politicians, and criminals, attend churches and cathedrals and march with rioters to try to justify violence against police . . . community agitators, as I once was, use the church as a cover for their radicalism."

"People do things when they're young that they later aren't proud of . . ."
"But I was a grown man when I associated with preachers who preached anti-American and anti-Jewish sermons."
"How can people call themselves Christians and hate Jews?  Jesus was a Jew."
"I'll admit that when Muslims are slaughtering Christians and vowing to kill all Americans and Jews that if a Christian's actions seem partial toward Muslims his or her identity as a Christian is suspect.  Yet, if my childhood among Muslims was pleasant can't you understand why I might have a sentimental spot in my heart for that experience?"
"Let's just hope that sentimental spot doesn't give a certain Ayatolla a sentimental nuclear bomb."

Or Regimented Oddly?

Always, hoping to find two empty adjoining seats to avoid sitting next to another passenger, he swept the seating in a bus in a glance.  That day as he turned from the fare-box he saw two empties and rushed to them.  Feeling comfortable in his good fortune he had looked across the aisle at the woman sitting alone.  Something indefinable about her.  She seemed fixed in a stillness that gave her the semblance of a coal-black mannequin that could not move unless propelled by another.  Her narrow black face showed no sign of life, as if slapped no sound would come from it; its stern expression would not change. 

The black satin blouse and black trousers held her slim, tight body as if she had not seen him look at her or didn't know what went on around her.  She had to know that her face reflected that hard look, he had thought.  Her people being without a legitimate culture her face probably didn't smile as easily as the face of women in that powerful reigning culture . . . her voice, because of something about  women like her having no protection down through history, could not sound as cheerful as theirs.  But she could have their hair.  She could go down to any drugstore and get it, like medicine.  Was that why her short black hair was decorated with four or five long blonde plaits?  They, against all that blackness, made her look odd.  Did she personify that "total" integration crowd?

The bus had pulled up to a bus stop and passengers were getting off.  There would be empty seats available.  He looked about for two empty seats farther away from her, saw two and went back and sat in one.  Still he thought of her.  Maybe she found living her entire life regimented into a single color too shallow and disgusting . . . with moderation as you go, son . . . .

The Grinning Stick Ones

"Oh, look at you, you are such wonderful people," he said, standing on an upside down white plastic bucket.  Hundreds of the natives squatted in the dirt  beneath a broiling sun and grinned up at him.  They had only some beans and rice and corn to eat every day and they were quite bony.
". . . you smile and dance so easily," he said, "how wonderful you are . . ."
All their lives they had bathed in a dirty river, then put on their floppy old black trousers and wrinkled white shirt or if a woman, she daintly dressed in an old long black skirt that rats had eaten holes in and she would tie a tattered white rag around her breasts, and music was made by beating sticks together and everyone danced, grinning and chattering some in worthless dialect.

". . . you are so happy," he went on, "what wonderful people you are, always grinning and happy, grinning profusely on your "holy" days as you scutter barefoot to your "holy" grass hut to worship some mysterious force that some long ago power told us about . . . oh, you are so industrious, ploughing up your ground with sticks to plant your corn . . ."
They always ran to the mountains to escape the constant monstrous, howling winds and floods that annually destroyed their villages, but they continued to worship the all-powerful, mystical, "holy" force and kept on chattering and grinning and cackling through the few rotted teeth that they had left.
". . . you love me as you did the powerful people who could read and write and they taught me and made me your master because I am one of you and I love you and have beans and rice brought to you and I teach you what the loving Spirit tells me to teach you . . . so continue to  worship the Spirit as our ancestors did in the Stone Age, but continue to worship the Spirit of the powerful people, too, and I will continue to be your master . . ."

"Thank you, master!" they all shouted, grinning and beating the sticks.
" . . . I will continue to represent you at the United Nations where Stick people like us have much  power," he said, "and are taking over the world -- with the help of the terrorists . . . ."

An Insult To Ants And Apes?

Considering the destructive actions of many blacks in communities throughout the United State we're tempted to ask ourselves:  "Do these people have brains superior to insects and so-called dumb animals?"  Take, for example, ants and gnats.  The huskiest and toughest dude on the block among each group is accepted as their leader, and his constituents look to him for protection from any other group or dude that might take a liking to any of the cute little female ants -- single or married -- prancing around.

The hormones of an outside gorilla ant might be nudging him, "Hey, brother, don't be half-stepping.  Get some of your home-boys and take over the group's terriotory and establish yourself a new harem."  The leader of this colony that the outside gorilla ant was spying on knew what was up the first time he saw this outside gorilla ant in the distance.  "He's smoking us over," he thought and put his trained back-up ant squad on "Stand By," ready to "git down" protecting the community.  a similar code is recognized among all insects and animals, gorillas, apes, elephants, lions, tigers.

Then we come to some "leader-preachers," politicians, and "peek-a-boo"- agitators who appear when the crowd is large enough for them to agitate and disappear before they can be pinpointed.  The "leader-code" that has been passed down through all generations of blacks is:  "We ain't  here to protect nothing; we s'pose to keep shit stirred up, change everything by 'whatever means necessary.'  Every time a black gits 'ccused of doing sup'um -- no matter how much evidence they got ag'inst him, we gon'  raise hell 'cause we know he's innocent . . . and they jes racists ag'inst him . . . ."

So, do the ants and gnats, baboons, lions, and other so-called dumb animals or do the "leaders" agitating blacks to disrespect police and tear up communities to demand more federal funds demonstrate the most intelligence?  In fact, would these "leaders" and their dumb followers be considered an insult by ants and gnats and gorillas and apes?

What'cha Think?

Throw out the history books of their glorious homeland; these books don't come close to teaching us what the bodies of these hundreds of thousands of refugees from the Middle East and Afrika press indelibly into our brains.  Are there enemies of America and Israel hidden among them?  Don't you just love how these "poor, hungry, suffering souls" look so clean and healthy as if they've never missed a meal in their lives?  And some reporter or commentator tells us that the wandering hundreds of thousands of them just want some countries to allow them to march joyfully across their border.

Now, who can erase those scenes of  horror that these weary, tormented thousands who could not find the strength to pick up a stick or stone and join their fellow-citizens in the fight against the enemies in their country, but, as in a miracle, after trudging miles day and night, they, unfed and unrested, suddenly find the courage and power to attack police guarding the borderes of countries they want to crash across.

And what of these "tired, hungry thousands of immigrants, frightened of gangs, criminals, and violence in their countries" -- we're told.  Are there enemies of America and Israel hiding among them as they swarm like bees to a hive to mount moving boxcars to reach our American shores, while their comrades remain behind singing and dancing about the glories of their country's culture, and wait for the next boxcar.  Could there be some discrepancy in the cultures that these refugees and immigrants boast of?  What'cha think?

Zombies Of "Color"

"But I've heard you criticizing us with 'black this and black that' as if you don't identify with us and then you get involved in this riot . . ."
"I know what you're gonna say, but it contradicts you as a human."
"No, you're the contradiction . . ."

"You say that because you and I -- and all babies -- are born as babies and not as colors -- "
"That's nonsense.  We were all born some color . . ."
"But if we get hung-up on that 'color thing' that can get the other part  of us -- the essence of us -- in big trouble --"
"There ain't no 'other part of us'.  If we in trouble, every part of us is in trouble . . ."
"Take, for example, those hundreds and hundred of 'people of color' who in the '80s followed this preacher -- I think he was Indian or part Indian, anyway he wasn't black -- into a jungle in South America and he had them all kill their babies by giving them  poison cool-aide to drink and then kill themselves by drinking poison cool-aide --"

"Color didn't have anything to do with that, people of all colors was in that society -- you just said that the preacher was Indian or part Indian --"
"And that's what made him more acceptable to these 'people of color,' these black people who were dedicated to 'total integration' . . ."
" 'Total integration' was the cry from the masses of black people in those days --"
"But don't you think that there was a part of each of those persons that rejected poisoning their babies and themselves?"
"Yes,  but . . ."

"And 90% of those 'people of color' who follwed that preacher into that jungle and poisoned their babies and themselves were blacks -- and the part of me that stood up against that ignorant rioting and motivated me to lead some people into the street in this town that night to stop it was not about color --"
"What was it about?"
"Think about it, it'll come to you."

Relative To What?

"Remember when we spoke to that group and you said that after watching 'Roots' on TV you were so mad you wanted to put big hurt on white people?"
"And when you spoke you looked straight at me and said, 'Did you get mad enough to get rid of your white identity?'  I'd thought about it, but in those days most of the guys into taking Afrikan identities were into violence . . ."
"All this talk about black this and black that.  Who's black?"
" . . . and I'd have had to do it legally, go to court, change the name on my vital statistics -- all that paper work --"
"Yeah, would've been a tremendous inconvenience for you compared to what those people, black and white, portrayed in 'Roots' had to contend with . . ."

"Besides, everybody knew me as 'Sam' and they weren't going to suddenly start calling me Olatunde."
"I'd rather call you Olatunde than Sam.  What does it mean?"
" 'Honor comes again.'  My friends would be looking at me funny, as if I was a traitor or something."
"You could've gotten new friends."
"It's just so much trouble, going through so many changes just over a name -- and my relatives never would've  understood."
"There's more to a person's identity than a name.  You could call yourself Ching Lee, but that wouldn't make you a Chinese."

"What about black people and this hair thing?"
"Again, it takes more than a name and the way you wear your hair to give you an identity. You have to have a culture, and that requires a language -- sloppy English isn't a black language, it's just the sloppy English of poorly educated people . . ."
"We went through that Afro thing, trying to get blacks to wear their hair natural.  Now, over fifty years later, they'r still addicted to that hair thing.  Trying to make tacking ropes to it as a cultural feature to cover a fascination  for long, loose locks . . . and after a hundred years still following 'leaders' who teach them to blame whites for our self-hate, self-destruction, and all our problems as if we had no brains to think . . ."
"Liars . . . dummies -- Ghosts all?  Relative to what?"

Connecting Orgies

Inherent worlds of throbbing monstrous lava rumbling discontent through millenniums and bursting, rocketing outwards, forming herculean majestic mountains, valleys, barren plains, germs creeping, sweeping green, flowery, kingly trees, gurgling following, flowing, reshaping, bringing minuscule puffs, peeps, deep down, clamoring, sick of lakes, rivers, seas, oceans, adventuring landward, groans, arms, legs creeping with centuries . . .

screams mingling amidst growling, gigantic forms crunching their gluttonous fill to more hunger and slimmer figures and vanishing in the dizzying buzz of saws and hammering iron, steel, and lumber, power swooning with masterful skill over weak, meek worthlessness entrapping borders, I-Me-My, You-Your-Yours . . . beggers, hoodlums, shysters crawling, bawling gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme  wrecking, the strong, drowning in guilt-ridden nonsense, caving, encouraging wrecking . . .

gently it drops, clean, clear as a smiling tear, another, and another, a flood, washing, quenching a thirst through countries, cities, living rooms, bedrooms, kitchens, cleansing, augmenting thoughts . . .

Some Came Running . . .

The plan had all the elements . . . well thought out, surprise, extreme dedication . . . except . . .

They'd feel the payback, enough of their blood hadn't yet been spilled,  he'd see them, arms, legs, faces of men, women, babies, maybe even pregnant women, blood splashing from their bodies . . . except . . .

Even if backup tried to interfere, the scorching of bullets tearing their bodies apart and tumbling them down into unthought of sudden death would reign . . . except . . .

Their torn, bleeding bodies would teach a lesson of fear, of his cunning and superiority that the world would never forget and he'd be be gone, laughing, free . . . except . . .

Except the filthy scumbag did not know the American reach, did not know that in every American community walk three, six, nine, twelve, thousands who like cubs from birth suck power, courage,  and teachings from the breast of their lioness mother to stand against evil.

Friday, August 21, 2015, three young Americans in France, far from their communities in America, recognized evil and withoug hesitation sprang into action, came running, defying death, conquering evil.

Profluent Profligate

"Doest thou think of thighs and my beauty?"

"Answer my question and I'll answer yours."

"Thigh doeth dither . . ."

"Would you answer --"

"Speak . . ."

"-- from the uncluttered conscience of intellectual
beauty or thigh voluptuous body?"

" . . . bring it hither . . ."

"Have you ever questioned any of thigh 'Shalt Nots'?"

"Doeth thigh never quiver?"

"Which did thigh defy?"

"Defiantly allowed them to flow in the River Thigh?"

"Why thigh defiance?"

"Oh, make them crave . . . you know the rave . . ."

"To dip in thy beauty?"

" . . . one, then two, and three . . ."

"And thigh husband?"

" . . . spent, burnt . . ."

"And I?"

"Thigh profluent profligate,"

Hounds Of Hunger

"You've been interviewing me for ten minutes and you ain't said nothing positive about our people yet . . ."
"If you're including me in that our people you might be somewhat presumptuous.  What have your people done positive or constructive -- rioting, looting, the same old noise, as the great Bard of Avon said:  '. . . sound and fury, signifying nothing . . .' "
"You can't hang that on our movement -- where you been!  We're a new movement . . ."
"There so many groups prancing and hollering out there who can keep up with them or cares to.  Besides, Miss Widipee, you called me."
"Well, I like the name of your radio show . . . Hounds of Hunger . . . that fits us . . ."

"Considering the whacky people you represent,  your organization sounds right for my show -- what did you say the name of your group is . . ?"
"We're the DMM -- the Dark Meat Movement . . . and all these people making speeches and holding discussions if they don't say sump'um 'bout Dark Meat we gon' crash in on'em . . ."
"And you call that positive and constructive?  Don't you think that all the time you waste trying to disrupt what other people are doing to resolve broader problems in our society and the world you could better use your time on the problems in your so-called communities?"
"We don't want to git into all that stuff.  We want people to pay attention to us.  That's why I wanted to be on your show . . ."

"As a famous General of your color said to some people attempting to use his name for selfish reasons:  'I'm your color but not your kind.' "
"We want people to recognize that our lives ain't worthless . . ."
"Don't tell us, show us.  Shout it in your so-called communities where you're killing each other like dummies and your 'leaders,' bootlegging racism, blame whites and police for the killings and all the problems of  your people . . . ."

Inescapably Inseparable?

Rep: "Don't ask anyone else that."
Jeff:  "I suspect that thinking people from New York to California have considered it."
Rep:  "But whomever they can pinpoint as having said it they'll call an extremist and they'll  be coming after him or her with a padded cell at the ready."
Jeff:  "Who's this 'they?' "

Rep:  "Caucasians, Asians, Hindus, Semites, blacks, everybody important as populations in  the world --"
Jeff:  "And they're all represented right here --"
Rep:  "-- barking about their cultures and pretending to glorify and maintain them -- for example, the contradiction of the Caucasians and blacks here.  In other countries of this Hemisphere, there are blacks, Indians, and Mestizos openly identifying as Caucasians, but the blacks and Caucasians here pretend to be in constant conflict --"

Jeff:  "Why do you say 'pretend?' "
Rep:  "Because of those centuries of that unique 'Peculiar Institution' between them they can not conceive of having completely different identities.  Our country could not withstand it; enemies would take advantage of our strong separatism and march right in.  Half a handfull of blacks  refer to Swahili as their cultural language, but the masses of them think it's a joke.  In reality, these blacks are of an English world.  Their riots are nothing more than their swan-song, their one-word footnote, extinction, to their paragraph in the continuing volumn of American History.  Their extinction can not be stopped."
Jeff:  "I don't understand . . . you say our  country, but they when you refer to the blacks -- aren't you one . . ?"
Rep:  "I'll just say that the 'they' I told you about when we started talking will be coming for you in about three minutes."

Jungle Fever

"Hee! Hee! Ho! Ho! Ha! Ha!  Hear ye! Hear ye!  Ladies and gentlemen, sit back comfortably before your TV while we bring you once again what has become known here in Pissaruin as  the Jungle Fever -- just a moment, I see a man shouting something, sir, sir, excuse me -- "
"You talking to me . . ?"
"Yes sir, I -- "
"Is you blind, you can't see that um's a woman . . ?"
"Oh, excuse me, I'm so sorry.  You have the boisterous voice of a man . . ."

"You don't see these long plaits of a woman that I  have . . ?"
"Is that hair?  I thought those were ropes attached to your hair . . ."
"Well, up close they is ropes, but from a distance when I've had time to untwine'em and dye'em blond or red they looks like real hair . . . you see, we was back in the jungle for the summer, resting up, when we was suddenly called up to do this performance lak we did last year here in Pissaruin -- we was called Dem Lives back then, but now we changed that to Jungle Fever, that gives it a better show-biz sound -- "
"Do you plan to tear up, loot, and burn, and get people injured and arrested like last year . . ?"

"Let's jes say we hopes to put on a good show for our TV audience all over the world lak we always do -- don't they always say in show-biz, 'Break a neck' or a leg or sump'um lak that?  It was nice talking to you, but now I got to git back to strutting my stuff . . . ."
"Thank you, sir -- I mean miss . . . there you have it ladies and gentlemen, the beginning of the first of many episodes -- we hope for your entertainment -- of the newly named Jungle Fever here in Pissaruin, fresh out of their short rest in the jungle and ready to raise hell like they did last year . . . so stay informed through our TV station as to when and where the Jungle Fever will tear it up and tear it down next . . . ."

Bootlegging Racism

I spotted him in the Hood, coming out of a storefront campaign office of a community agitator.
"What's up, my friend?  Haven't seen you on the corners lately," I said, "with those items from questionable sources that you're always peddling."
"You might not believe this, but I've put that chump change aside.  I'm now into politics, into the big money."
"You . .?"
"You ever hear of bootleg racism?"
"No.  What's it about?"
"It's like moonshine.  Everybody knows that moonshine ain' a patented whisky, but it'll get you where you wanna go."
"Where you wanna go?"
"Where these bootleggers of racism are shoveling out greenbacks to anybody who'll riot, loot, burn, and claim that they're victims of racism . . . when one of these hoodlums is caught breaking the law and claims -- or his or her friends or relatives claim -- that the police arrested him or her -- or tried to -- because he or she was black, that's bootlegging racism . . ."

"Hey, I didn't know that you had those kind of serious thoughts . . ."
"I've kept them to myself, trying to stay under radar, but all this No Justice No Peace-business, and propaganda against the police, and hammering the United States about racism --"
"As if racism isn't all over the world -- and thank God or we wouldn't have the right to associate with whom we please."
"And that's what got me thinking -- I was in the Army, you know, and after that I was a seaman and every country I went to in this Hemisphers, blacks and Indians were on the bottom of the totem pole, educationally, economically, and politically, and nobody in those countries or those bootlegging racism in this country has said a word about that open racism . . . theses other countries in this Hemisphere -- and in the world -- are a hundred years behind our country in race relations . . ."

"You know I've often thought that if the Allies in World War II had attacked only the Nazis in Berlin, the Nazis would have won the war.  The Nazis had to be attacked everywhere . . ."
"I've had those same thoughts and that caused me to see local and national hypocritical politicians, especially in our communities, as securing their longevity in office by bootlegging racism . . ."
"Are you saying that bootleggers of racism are in the chain of power in this government?"
"Sho nuff."
This government has these bootleggers of racism looking under every grain of sand for a racist, I thought.  Soon someone will be coming to our doors, saying:  "The government selected me for you."
Then watch the murder rate go up.

For Whom The Phrase Turns

Back early just for the following:

"We wants everybody who turned our phrase into sump'm else to 'pologize!"
"But why shouldn't  it apply to all --"
"Naw -- hell naw -- we meant it for us and nobody else -- it's our thang -- if we'd meant it for everybody --"
"But don't you see how much more powerful -- and sincere --"
"You can't question us 'bout no sincere when we putting our butts on the line out here -- that phrase means us and jes us . . ."

"I grant that you people thought it up -- and I'm so sorry that I didn't give you people credit for your creativity, but I must insist that the rukus that you people are making by wanting to apply it just  to black people . . ."
"Then put 'black' back in it cause we don't want nobody profiting on this but us -- and we want a 'pology for taking 'black' out of it!"

"Okay, okay, I'm so terribly sorry that I took the word 'black' out of it, but it seemed kind of racist just applying it to black people --"
"Racist?  How dare you call us black people racist.  We been taught by our leaders that black people can't be racists 'cause it  takes economic power to be racist -- we ain' got no economic power, no education power, no --"
"But you had your own stores, restaurants, hotels, and other businesses -- and your own schools and teachers, but you people gave all that up just to be among us --"
"Now, see, there you go accusing us, making it our fault --"
"Oh, please forgive me my ignorance -- oh, my Holy Lord, I'm just blind to your people's intelligence and fairness.  Please forgive me, I'm just so sorry . . ."
"Now, you is talking lak we wants to hear you talk . . . everytime we disagree wit' y'all we want  to hear y'all 'pologizing else we gon' be lak 'ICE-IS,' cause confusion . . . ."

Now This

Hamjambo? (Hello, how are all of you?)

The pen ponders while it wanders yonder until August 7.  In the meantime there is much scam that we must send on the lam while we continue  to shimi-sham and jimi-jam in the flim-flam

Yep?  Nope?  Mmm.

See you, kwa herini, shalom, ciao, zai jian! hasta luego, a bientot.

Can't Call Him "Terrorist?"

". . . we have no idea what motivates these individuals to carry out these killings, this distruction . . ."

 "But, sir, our High Office -- the most powerful in the world -- that you occupy is constantly in touch  with international intelligence agencies and you mean to tell us that you don't consider a Muslim to be a terrorist after he's attacked two Armed Forces Recruiting Centers and killed members of our Armed Forces?  Couldn't his hatred of Americans be enough of a motivating force to qualify him as a terrorist?"
"We have no proof of this being the work of a terrorist, and until all the facts are in we can not accuse this individual of being a terrorist."

"But, sir, Muslim terrorists throughout the world are calling for men and women in all nations to rise up and join them in killing Americans, civilians, soldiers, and police in their respective countries, and young people are identifying with these terrorists.  Are you telling us that this Muslim's killing of these members of our Armed Forces was a case of mistaken identity, that this terrorist didn't know that he was going to find members of our Armed Forces there?  He thought he was going to find American men, women, and children there singing, praying, and reading Bibles?  And if a loner hasn't been proven to be a card-carrying terrorist affiliated with some terrorist group neither you nor I or anyone can call him a terrorist?"

"Now, please, let us not get off into nonsense.  Just as we could not call that Muslim who killed all those members of our Armed Forces at Fort Hood a terrorist -- he was merely a work-disturber -- we can not call this lone individual a terrorist for carrying out the work of terrorists by killing members of our Armed Forces . . ."

"Please forgive my nonsense, sir, but how have you managed to remain in our High Office this long without being impeached or encouraged to resign?"

Two = Four -- Or More

You can place complete faith in my word, sir.  We are a people whom  you can trust with your life.  Hundreds of years of our history are filled with evidence of our sincerity, our truthfulness.  All those countries that we conquered and ruled for centuries are proof of the worth of our word.  Being an honorable and incorruptible people is an integral part of our culture.  For as long as you're "in our tent" we are obligated to protect you, to treat you as an honored guest; the moment you step outside we have the privilege of slitting your throat.  You often have reminded us of that moment in history when we threw out the Shah and kept some fifty of you Americans as prisoners in dark underground cells for months and months, your fate subject to our whims.  And you might think of that as a betrayal of our responsibility to protect anyone "in our tent," but, in truth, you Americans were not "in our tent" you were "in the tent" of the Shah whom we had overthrown.  But we are friends again and you need have no fear of us reneging on any agreement.  Those pictures on TV last week of thousands of Iranians surging through the streets screaming "Death to the Americans" and "Destroy Isreal" was merely clever agitation.

Thank you, sir, for those comforting words.  I, too, represent a  history of people who have always believed that our word must be our bond, holy.  I'm sure that you, as people throughout the world, know the extreme injury that can befall one who is under yoke and gun of a master keen enough to distinguish the hint of a lie from his vassal.  The history of the world is laden with the sorrowful tales of those wretches bludgeoned to dust for daring to persuade a master with sophistry.  But admission of some nefarious deed to the master ment certain death.  So the vassal had to beome eloquent in cradling a lie in such terms and temper that the devil himself could not decipher it as a lie.  Over the centuries such energetic "truth-telling" has become a part of our DNA.  You see, sir, I'm quite skilled and profuse in the power of words and do not use them glibly.  If I give my word to the people on the worth of an agreement in which I diddled and my word obfuscates banks throughout nations will close and nations will perish.  You and I, sir, are men of a few words.  In fact, you might say that we are two people whose few words cleverly comprise four meanings -- or more.

Timely Self-Adjusted Pill

"Dr., my mind is in turmoil.  I can't sleep without being haunted by nightmares.  I can eat only snacks.  I'm tormented by the fear of falling . . . I need a pill that self-adjusts to treat any problem that disturbs me at a given time . .  ."
"How long have you had this problem, sir?"
"For several weeks -- ever since they took the pole away that displayed that flag . . ."
"Oh, you wanted the flag to remain?"
"It's not about the flag, Dr., it's about the hole that the flagpole left . . . they tried to cover it, but it's still there beneath the cover.  I see it everywhere I go, in the floors of my apartment, swallowing me up in bed at night, even walking with me down the streets and I stumble, thinking I'm suddenly seeing a bottomless black pit in front, on my sides, in back of me -- I'm constantly about to be hit by cars as I jump from that hole that I seem about to fall into.  You've got to help me Dr. . . ."

"How did you feel about the flag?"
"Going along with some others, I wanted to see it go, but since I've been having these nightmares about that hole I -- I'm a devout Christian and I know the Lawd works in mysterious ways -- maybe the Lawd's trying to tell me something . . ."
"Like what?"
"Like it wasn't my flag and maybe if I and some of my people had a flag that represented -- in a special way -- a historic experience I might not want anybody to take it from us -- and this hole ain't just touching me, it's causing people to react to my jumpingness, and people all over the world -- people who ain't never even been to our country and don't know nothing about its history is upset about this flag-business . . ."
"You say that the Lord works in mysterious ways . . . you think that maybe the Lord brought this hole-business to you to teach something -- and won't give you any peace until you do . . ?"

"You mean refill that hole with that flagpole displaying that flag . . ?"
"Well, meaningful statues, momuments, art, and books around that flag are being desecrated . . . you're trampling on the sacrifices and heroism portrayed in the lives of hundreds of thousands of souls, men, women, and children who honored that flag or despised it; are they to be erased, destroyed, as if they never lived?  Can the true history of the people arguing against that flag be told by them entertaining only a view defiling the flag?  Where does the destruction end?"

The Bow-Wow Cometh

"In my country there is no racial problem -- nobody have race."
"How long has this been going on?"
"In  all countries in this Hemisphere we once have only RU YU people, but you LA LA people come in ships, take over country and make babies with RU YU women.  Now in all these countries we all wanna be LA LA people."
"But I've seen many in these countries who still look like RU YU people, your ancestors . . ."
"Soon LA LA men give all RU YU women babies and all RU YU people soon disappear like BU HOO people that you LA LA people brought on ships to pick cotton and cut cane on plantations . . ."

"What happened to the BU HOO people in y'alls countries?"
"We no want people who look like BU HOO people in our families.  We make BU HOO people want babies who look like LA LA people.  Now if you see BU HOO people they know we no like'em and -- like us -- they say they LA LA people, even though they still look like BU HOO people."
"But we LA LA people believe in the LA LA race, believe in the five races . . . that's why we provide RU YU and BU HOO people with housing, food, clothing, education, jobs . . ."
"LA LA people smart -- one race okay, but five races no good . . ."

"You'll still have to deal with the billions of CHINU CHINU and billions of HINYU HINYU people to have only one race . . ."
"Pee on you . . . you know where that expression come from?"
"No, but all you RU YU and BU HOO people do is sit around talking about the wise sayings passed down from y'alls ancestors . . ."
"Well, our ancestors passed down to us that one day long ago the RU YU, LA LA, and BU HOO men were sitting on the ground in a circle discussing the Great Spirit and wondering if IT had to eliminate the race or races that contributed the least to human advancement what race or races would it be, and a dog came by.  The dog stared at them for a time and then went around sniffing at each man, and each time it sniffed a RU YU or BU HOO man it peed on him."

Way To Go, Ladies!

BAM!  WHAM!  WHAM!  BAM!  The American women have scored an astonishing, incredible goal on the average of every three minutes of the first  twelve!  America 4, Japan 0!  The game is over -- but how can that be?  It has just begun!  But it's over!

Not quite.  For over ninety minutes of dripping sweat, gripped by an unyielding challenge on a seemingly endless stretch of green the American women continued to charge -- giving no quarter, expecting none -- against a determined former foe who had been victorious in a pervious contest between them for a championship.

But America has the toughest, the greatest women soccer players in the world!  They epitomize the courage, strength, talent, endurance, and comportment of champions!

How many years of fighting back tears -- never surrendering -- gritting down the uncompromising pain of sprains, torn ligaments, even broken bones wrenching those marvelous legs, hips, the back, testing the will, the stamina to fight beyond exhaustion, fight to the sweet solace of a 5-2 American victory over Japan.  You knew and the millions throughout the world who always believed, always knew that you, ladies, would be at the top, the most renown of the soccer world this July Five, Two Thousand Fifteen!  Long may you reign!

HUHN?

"Would you classify it as rigmarol?"
Well, we keep being inspired with brilliant ideas on how to defend ourselves from these Muslim terrorists.  First, we were told that these Muslim terrorists blowing up and shooting people by the thousands and cutting off people's heads were not dangerous, that they were just a few junior league malcontents wanting to be noticed.

These "junior league" terrorists were taking over more and more cities in different countries, and able-bodied men, instead of fighting these "junior league" terrorists invading their cities, were running as if on fire to become refugees with the women and children, leaving the terrorists to destroy long-cherished artifacts, books, museums, and irreplaceable art pieces
'These poor, disgruntled terrorists are not mean and evil,' we were then told.  'They're just unhappy and angry because they don't have jobs.  We must build up their economy for them.  All they want is to work.'
Unfortunately, these Muslim terrorists must not have heard that brilliant idea because they didn't stop shooting and cutting off people's heads but added burning them alive to the carnage.  We heard nothing more about that brilliant idea of giving them jobs.

Watching a man consoling thousands of sad, sorrowful people throughout the nation with a song, many thought that his brilliance was irrefutable.  They agreed:  'Oh, if only we had a Commander-In-Chief like that we'd put him on a world-wide TV hook-up to lead millions in singing to the Muslim terrorists.  And the terrorists, like happy tots, would throw down their knives and guns and join us in singing, praising, and loving America.'
A few voices grumbled:  'You can't expect the people of Israel who are threatened day and night with attacks at bus-stops, on buses, at restaurants and clubs, in schools and hospitals, and in their homes by terrorists to trust this singing Commander-In-Chief to stop Iran from getting a nuclear bomb to use against them.'
'Why he'd be recognized as the world's greatest strategist, telling the world how fearless he and our political party are; delegations from all over the world will be racing to him, paying our government millions of dollars to have him sing to their enemies.  We'd need no fighting equipment, save billions of dollars, not have to fire a single shot.  Just sing our enemies to death . . . maybe send them some flowers, too . . . maybe then -- if he doesn't refer to them as Muslim terrorists -- they won't cut off our heads or shoot us or blow us up, especially since our motto is No Justice No Peace.  They'll see that we'll riot, burn, loot, that we ain't against violence --  why we'll  even provoke people to shoot us and burn down our churches . . .'
"Huhn?"

Way Things Are Going

"My son and daughter would not rob or steal or kill nothing . . ."
"But why did he have that gun and resisted arrest --?"
"I don't b'lieve none of that mess -- them police must be planted that gun on him and they jes lying 'bout him resisting arrest.  I didn' raise him or  my daughter to do such thangs . . ."
"Your daughter interfered with the police trying to arrest . . ."
"They jes lying -- if I'd been there I wouldn' 'lowed them to put a hand on my chilluns . . . "

"How old are your children?"
"The boy is 16 and the girl 14."
"Do they belong to any gangs?"
"I ain gon' lie . . . I don' know who they hang 'round wit' and what they do when they leave this house, but I don' b'lieve they do . . . "
"What kind of activities do they participate in?"

"They plays basketball and shoots pool with them kids that they hang out wit down at the recreation center . . ."
"Are they in school?"
"Yeah, but they ain teaching them chilluns nuthin in them no'count schools . . ."
"Do you help them with their school assignments?"
"I an got no education, I can't help nobody wit' nuthin . . ."

"They're young and interested in diversity, but do you think that letting them end up in prison and being integrated with criminals is helpful?  That is, does integration enhance and refine or damage diversity?"
"I un'erstan 'damage,' but not 'inants,' and that other word I thank it mean 'rufing up' somebody . . ."
"Don't worry about it.  Now, employers can't ask a job applicant whether he or she has done time in prison.  Way things are going even one of your 'chilluns' can get out of prison and aspire to be President."
"Lawd, have mercy -- don' scare me like that.  The Lawd gon' come back and send us all straight to Hell . . . ."

Together-Apart

They sat on a sofa for two, glasses half red with wine.
". . . to keep all heads straight . . ."
"For God's sake, " she whispered, closing her slim fingers in a fist, hitting him on the forearm.
"You've 'circled the wagons'?" he asked.
"I'm ready . . ."

"No others but ours have endured this wrenching 400-year jack hammer, warped hate-love, war-peace, work-play, building-destroying --"
"The ultimate extreme together-apart," she interjected.  "Bound by it . . ."
"-- startling, soothing, glorious for our separate identities . . ."

" . . . seemingly irreparably offended-defended to the total undoing, never again to compromise, to truly smile together . . . no matter the anti-black whites, the anti-white blacks, we all --"
" -- black and white," he cut in, "white and black, Southern-bred in our soul . . ."

". . . like no other people we flow in America The Great that all the world has known and knows . . . and you darling -- if I dare -- would tear it all for your beloved language-hair culture thing . . ."
"But if Free Will exists can we, you and I, my sweet -- I dare -- representing, have no final word -- even to the deliverance of our spirit . . . ?"

Flag, Etc.

Who created Old Glory, the Red, White, and Blue?  A white person.  Who created the Confederate Flag?  A white person.  Who created the Red, Black, and Green Flag?  A black person; it's the flag of black nationalists and does not include whites or anybody but blacks.  So when we're talking about the Confederate Flag representing racial hatred, what about the black nationalist flag representing racial hatred?  In fact, what about  flags in all countries?  Don't they represent primarily the people with whom the person who created the flag identified?

Except Old Glory.  The United States being a totally interacial society, Old Glory is looked upon by an interacial majority as our flag, and this majority resents anyone disrespecting it.  Consider the tons of blood that drench the soil of the United States and the soil throughout the world in honor of it.

Even expressing our love for Old Glory we have to entertain the view of those throughout the world who don't love Old Glory.  If we're to be able to defend our flag adequately we have to also look at it from the enemy's point of view.  It's like being a writer.  A writer is like an actor, he or she has to get into a character's head, become that charcter.  Hemingway once wrote a story from the perspective of a lion.  Didn't mean that he wanted to be that critter.

On another plane, normally a man thinks:  Why would a man want to be a woman?  If, however, he wants to make a female character believable he has to try to get into a woman's head, see life from a female point of view.  Vice versa, a woman creating a male character probably thinks:  Why would a woman want to be a man?  What about a character who likes to torture and murder people?  Doesn't mean that the writer approves of torturing and murdering people, but he has to try to intellectually become that character.

Back to the flag.  If we can get  into the head of those pro and con about a flag, moving or not moving it might be easier on the ol' ticker.

NOW The Bandwagon Turn-Out

"Oh, Lawd, we -- and many of our bad mannered chilluns --  jes realized that as a righteous, God-fearing and church-going people that we s'pose to respect the police and support them in their efforts to keep the peace in our communities and cities and in the nation . . . !" they're now eager to broadcast to the world.

When ignorant black rioters in the streets throughout our nation were shouting their race-hate with "Kill The Police . . . !" most black preachers and politicians didn't open their mouths; others, along with countless agitators, physically and vocally, as apologists for violence, supported the rioters, and white police were killed.

Given that the rioters call for killing has gotten innocent church-going blacks killed, opportunists are jumping on a bandwagon, with tears in their eyes, crying, "Oh, Lawd, we is against teaching and practicing race-hate . . . !"

These filthy hypocrites, whenever they've considered their Sunday-morning checks threatened, have opportunistically, through the history of the black masses, kept them jumping, hip-wobbling, clapping, crawling on their knees or running for their lives, whichever was conducive to keeping the "holy" coffers lucrative.

Let us see whether these black athletes and black entertainers, reporters, columnists, commentators, and analysts who openly supported the riotrs who got white police killed will now -- as other opportunists -- openly demonstrate that they're now on sale for those who say that they support the police.

A Sad, Hilarious Joke

"But how could this happen?" she asked
He said, "Consider this" :
Marching, burning, looting, tearing up black communities, shattering eardrums with lies of "All white police are racists!  Jailing and killing innocent black men!  No Justice No Peace!  Hands Up Don't shoot!  I Can't Breath!  Kill Police!"

Faces of preachers, politicians, apologists, basketball players, football players, entertainers, high school and university students filled TV screens supporting the vilification of white police.  Today, weeping and praying, faces stamped with crocodile tears in black communities, even in Congress.  But these wonderful, thoughtful people will say nothing about the calls for mobs to disturb the peace that they made just several weeks ago throughout the nation.

None will dare to even hint that the wild rioters, playing on their agenda of racial hatred, have hands soaked with the blood of innocent blacks killed by an angry white striking back.  None, using the mobs for cannon fodder votes, will criticize a preacher or politician or community agitator who encouraged the mobs to keep the pot of anger boiling with No Justice No Peace.

'This violence does not happen in any other country but ours,' a politician tells us.  He does not mention that blacks will not disturb the socities in any other countries, especially in this Hemisphere, because they know that they will be slaughtered by the non-blacks.  If some black individual asks how a white just 21-years old can harbor so much hate against blacks, why doesn't he also ask how young blacks can be so easily brainwashed that they can swagger through the streets destroying businesses and threatening to kill white police without being condemned by preachers or politicians or community "leaders"?

Whites are accused of being racists, anti-black, but these so-called blacks are the most anti-black people in existence.  They strut about wanting only the identities of people who do not identify as black.  They are an anomaly, a sad, hilarious joke.  But bounce it off of Relativity as you cope.  'This, too, shall pass away.'  Thank you, Jesus, Albert Einstein, and Machiavelli.  There's a Triumvirate for you.  "Hope I answered your question."