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?"