BET

"She's dying hard up there in that hospital . . . won't last through the night."
"Then why tell her anything?"
"We've got to see the positive things, too."
"Do they measure up to us filling jails and prisons, being drug addicts, alcoholics, thugs . . ."
"But she's mama and  had to be daddy, too, when we couldn't help ourselves."
"Then she has to be 'sponsible for what we become --"

"We can't send here off as the negative of all those things called positive and beautiful in people with powerful cultures . . ."
"And when she was a child who taught her all that stuff that she passed on to us?"
"Stuff that's been messing up our minds for all these centuries because we haven't had leaders and teachers to teach us a strong culture as leaders and teachers do in other ethnic groups."
"Who always say that they the major influence in our communities?"
"Preachers say that they are."
"And we been sittin' there in churches like zombies, questioning nothing . . ."

"I know you're not saying that we don't have free will . . ."
"We can talk about that some other time.  Right now she laying up there dying -- black wit' a blonde wig on and lips painted all red --"
"Yeah, and we don't want to bury her in any of that, passing it on to some weak-minded girls coming to the funeral."
"So who we gonna tell her shot her?  That's the one thang that can send her off in peace.  Imagine what it be lak to be dying and not knowing who shot you and why."
"It can be that we all had something to do with it -- in our treatment of her.  She's mama, we owe her."
"Bet."

Race And Sensationalism

Thugs, cannon fodder, Police, and the media are used as primary ingredients.
One night this black guy coming from a liquor store with a fifth of wine in a thick bottle took a shortcut through an alley that was some three blocks long, ending at the back of his apartment building.  He saw another black guy coming toward him from the opposite direction.  They eyed each other as they were passing and the guy said, "Got a match?"  He shook his head and said, "No."

He'd taken only three or four steps when the guy said again, "Got a match?"  He turned, didn't like the way the guy was standing there looking at him and he repeated "No" and continued walking.  "Got a match?" the guy hollered.  A nut, he thought, not turning.  If I had my gun and he started acting crazy I'd give him a match.  Light his crazyass up.  Then he heard footsteps behind him and turned, seeing this guy and another black hurrying toward him, about fifteen yards back.  He walked faster, hearing their footsteps quicken.

A couple of trashbins were about ten feet ahead of him, his apartment about a block away.  He couldn't whip the two of them and might not be able to outrun them and had only the wine bottle, he thought.  "Not going down quietly," he murmured, "time to make a stand."  He backed up against one of  the trashbins, seeing them  stop a few feet away and one starting to circle him slowly on the left and the other circling on the right.  Suddenly he began shouting curses at them.  They stopped, stared at him as if they were in shock, then they stepped toward each other, mumbling.  They might take me down, he thought, but one of them's going to get busted with the bottle and neither one wants to take the hit.

One said, "Aw, no, man it wasn't 'bout that . . ."  Then they backed off a few steps, turned and started walking back down the alley.  After they had gone about five yards, one yelled, "You  got 75 cents?  Just put it down there and we'll come git it . . .."  He ignored them and kept walking, thinking, Damned fools  would get killed not even knowing whether the person they're trying to rob has any money or not . . . like dumb cannon fodder lonely for Anglos to notice them and will do something foolish and cops will come to investigate and more cannon fodder show up -- not even knowing what it's about -- and start shouting, "Police brutality . . . No justice, no peace" -- stirring up more animosity than benevolence -- and thugs eagerly join in and start rioting and lootin' and burning, and the cops can't distinguish the illiterate thugs from the illiterate cannon fodder and the unscrupulous media riding the wave for every drop of sensationalism.

Leader Shot Down

"Is there any news from our leader?" one of the reporters asked.
"The only news we have is no news," the spokesman for the leader said.
"Isn't that unusual for a leader to completely ignore the leader of another country --"
"Is the wound that severe?" a reporter cut in.
"Critical but not terminal in the sense that he can always get a TV show as a grinning tap dancer."

"Are they sure that they have the shooter?"
"Oh yes, no doubt about it.  There was this tension beween him and the shooter .  . ."
"Is it true that he felt upstaged by the shooter's leadership ability and experience on Isreal's battle field?"
"Well, the shooter is known throughout the world as a warrior on the battlefield and in politics, whereas our leader was never heard of until --"

"Is it true that his experience as a leader was limited to a classroom and some community work . . ."
"What about some of his close friends being black racists?"
"Well, now, racism is a part of one's right to choose his associates and racists, of course, are attracted to each other and use anti-white racism to appeal to the shallow-brained black masses . . ."
"Do you think that there will be any strain in the relations between our two countries or a thaw in the tension between the two leaders?"
"Well, be that as it may, the United States proves that a country can be a winner -- because of its people -- even if its leader is a loser and belongs in a classroom."

Burn It Down?

"Burn it down . . . burn it down . . . burn it down . . . !"
Ever burn down anything?  What about a house?  If anybody burns down a house, there's nothing left of that house.  What about burning down a country?  One has to burn down all the houses, all the buildings of that country.

People live in those houses and buildings.  Those people are mothers, grandmothers, sisters, daughters, wives, babies.  Do these persons who want to burn down our country have any relatives or friends living here?  Do they have no love for these relatives or friends?

What if the next day these persons, after having shot their ignorant mouths off about "burn it down" realize that they need to try to get the heat off of them and those people that they associate with?  "We're sorry," they whine, "we was jes excited having all them people listening to us and being on TV -- we jes wanted to be seen on TV . . . ."

But Islamist terrorists prey on ignorant people at a low level of emotional development who scream "burn down the United States".  They want to find out whether they can make you suicidal terrorists or whether you're just hypocrites and liars.

Ther're milions of peasants who're constantly running their butts across borders and coming into our country and at the first signs of danger they can run their butts back across those borders and return to the backward, corrupt countries they came from.  But for millions of us the United States is the only country we know and we had better be alert for people -- no matter what their color -- screaming, "Burn it down . . . !"

Burning people alive is what Islamist terrorists do!+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++         

Fighting The Whole Story

The fight could have been avoided, yet it was inevitable.
"What's  this about?" the first police officer asked the man standing with his two teenage daughters.
"He resented what I was telling my two daughters about the bridge," the man said, pointing at the other man near him on the bridge.
"No, I said he -- like all these race hustlers -- was starting in the middle of the sream, not telling the whole --"
"Just be calm," the second police officer interrupted, "let him finish, then you can speak."
"Well, I was telling my daughters about the role this bridge played in eliminating some of the suffering of our people -- I say 'some' of the suffering  because we're still suffering from --"
"See, see -- that's what I'm talking about.  They always start in the middle of the stream, never what got us here -- how --"
"I asked you to be calm," the second police officer interrupted again, "let him finish  --"
"No," the first police officer cut in, "I think he's on to something. Let  him continue."

"Well, they never start with our ancestors back in Afrika who captured us from different tribes and sold us to Arabs and Europeans or we wouldn't have been here to get beat up on any bridges or used as cannon fodder by newspapers and TV news with explosive headlines:  'UNARMED man shot by police.'  Never admitting or intimating that these  'UNARMED' men attacking police and resisting arrest are dangerous.  Never daring to question why would a black with any sense want to be in an all-white fraternity anymore than a white with any sense would want to be in an all-black fraternity.  Never mentioning that a year before the march on this bridge a voice hurled across this nation:  'We no longer have to be cheap imitations of Anglos.  We can have our own identity -- as other people -- our own culture with a unique language -- as other people.'  But from those who now suddenly feel so gloriously attached to the bloody sacrifices on this bridge silence still rebukes that voice.  We have no culture!  Can't conceive of being anything but cheap imitations of Anglos!  And we can't blame ancestors or anybody but ourselves for that.  Anyway, if it hadn't been for slavery we wouldn't even exist --"

"Okay, okay,"  the first police officer said, "we've heard enough.  Both of you guys have a right to your opinion, so just shake hands and we'll move on -- and just tell the whole story or we'll always  have these brdges."