Ignorance Hates Intelligence

Thousands of "holy" men -- women not allowed -- rampaged through the streets.  One man screamed at another, "Grab something . . !"
"What . . ?"
"Rocks, bottles, sticks, bricks, anything -- this is 'Throw Day!  We standing up for our rights -- we ain't got nothing, the Americans got everything, money, big cars, big factories, schools -- even their women go to school, drive cars and buses, and vote and hold political offices!  Unthinkable!  The Americans have nuclear power, big guns -- throw something, anything, burn their flag -- kill 'em, they got everything, we ain't got nothing.  They've always had everything.  We ain't never had nothing -- kill 'em, it's their fault that we ain't go nothing, let's burn down something --"
"But we ain't got nothing . . ."
"Let's burn down something of theirs -- they think they're so intelligent and that we're so ignorant, we'll show 'em how we worship our God, show 'em our holiness -- riot, burn, loot, kill all those who don't worship our God --"
"Just like our brothers in the countries around us -- holy God! this is exciting.  I don't want rocks, I want guns.  Can we get some money from the Americans to buy guns to kill the Jews?"
"They won't give us money to do that."
"Tell 'em -- swear to 'em -- that we want democracy."

Ignorant Animal Mobs

"When the loot'n starts, the shoot'n starts," stated the sheriff in a Florida city during rioting by animals -- and we're all animals -- there in the '60s.  Now, animals are burning buildings -- what can a building do to you -- snarling and growling as usual, and murdering Americans trying to help them in the Middle East.

Reminds us that just because animals wear clothes, that doesn't mean that they're civilized.  We now have dogs walking around in shoes, britches, dresses, and hats.  Next, it'll be chickens --"

"Hold on, wait -- chickens aren't animals, they're fowls --"
"But don't they have a head, brains, a body, thighs, legs, and feet?"
"Of course . . ."
"In fact, they're already wearing garments (feathers) that cover them from head to foot, showing no flesh except their eyes and sometimes their feet.  And when we look at them, we wonder, "What kind of pitiful fool is this."
"You sound as if you're talking about some specific people . . ."
"I'm talking about chickens."

WAT'LL HEE DOO

If Wat'll Hee Doo doesn't make any sense, perhaps it's because something is missing from it.  The complete expressing is Wat'll Hee Doo - Wat'll Hee Daa - Wat'll Hee Doo Daa Waa.  Now that should be perfectly clear to anyone whose brain has been put in backwards.  The expression came about during a heated discussion in a town-hall meeting between the United Wee-Wees.  They had gathered to elect a president for their country, Wee-Wee Landia.

One contingent argued that "electing a president" should be changed -- considering the millions spent by the presidential candidates -- to "buying a president."  The faction opposing that change bellowed that a non-politician, a "new blood" was needed to govern the country.

"My fellow Wee-Wees," the chairman interjected, "the spirit in me calls for a compromise.  We need to unite around a candidate who has no money -- and doesn't know how to get any -- and will allow us  to write his platform.  He must be a political KNOW-NOTHING.  Do we have a candidate present?"

One lowly Wee-Wee stood up.  His old brown suit was filthy and tattered and several sizes too large for his short, skinny, drip-dry frame and his deeply gray mountainous hair was desheveled, and he looked as if he hadn't bathed in a decade.  "My name is Wat'll Hee Doo and I'm a political KNOW-NOTHING."

"My fellow Wee-Wees, get ready to rule the world," the chairman said.  "Mr. Wat'll Hee Doo is now a Wee-Wee candidate and the spirit tells me that his platform should be THE WAT'LL HEE DOO-WAT'LL HEE DAA-WAT'LL HEE DOO DAA WAA PLAN.  Now if thousands of people supported a candidate who wanted to govern our country with a plan based on some 9s, they will surely vote for a Wee-Wee."

Biscuita and Gravy

She and he sat eating lunch, biscuits and gravy, at the table in the small kitchen of their studio apartment.  She read the newspaper as she ate.  She looked up.  "My God," she said, "this mother and father murdered their sixteen-year-old daughter . . !"
"Some people are garbage," he said.
". . . they wanted her to marry some rich guy, but she wouldn't because she was in love with some poor guy . . . they said they killed her for family honor."
"Those people with that family 'honor' buisness are like primitives who've accidently blundered into the 21st century -- the civilized world -- from the Stone Age."
"We need to do some demonstrations against them," she said.
"Have to take off from work for that," he mumbled.  "Less gravy."
"And the price of flour is going up," she said.  "Less biscuits -- and gas is going up another nickel . . ."
"Less gravy means less marriage, less flour, less biscuits, less gas -- gravy affects everything . . ."
" 'Gravy affects every --' what kinda gravy you talking about?"

Clubs, Machetes, and Spears

Watching the long, low spread of color becoming crimson just above the distant tree tops and hold back the night as they sat in the porch-swing that evening in the small southern town, the grandmother asked her grandson, "Whata you wanna be when you grow up?"
"A policeman," he said.
"A policeman has to think fast.  Can  you think fast?"
"Sho'," the boy said.
"How old are you now?"
"Nine."
"Ever been in any fights?"
"Sho' -- but I whupped 'em."
"Okay, let's say you a policeman and you and some mo' police are facing a lot of men who're armed with bricks, clubs, machetes, and spears -- and maybe some guns you can't see.  And these men are looking wild-eyed and crazy, screaming and hollering and jumping all around threatening y'all like a bunch of illiterate primitives -- what do you do?"
"I'd shoot 'em."
"But millions of people all over the world will cry crocodile tears and accuse you and the other policemen of shooting innocent, unarmed men."
"But they was armed and --"
"And the people will say that those men were poor and helpless and had come to protest in peace . . ."
"Then why did they come with them clubs, and machetes and spears, grandma?"

Profiling Police

Ughmo and Igmo were big men, muscular, with shaved heads.  And they wore their britches questionably lower than their butts.  Ughmo was saying, "Yeah, well people say, 'Why y'all against the police'?"
"Yeah, and they say, 'Y'all don't want black people talking to the police,' " Igmo pointed out.
"Yeah," Ughmo continued, "and they say, 'Then when y'all get robbed or stabbed or shot --' "
"Which is quite regular," Igmo interrupted.  "They then say, 'Then y'all holler for the police --' "
"And they say," Ughmo interrupted.  " 'Then, y'all on all the TV stations belly-aching that the police don't get there fast enough because y'all blacks . . .' "
"And, Ughmo, they say we always resisting arrest . . ."
"Jes lak we s'pose to stand there when a police is coming to us wit a gun and a club on and let him peacefully arrest us -- 'specially after we only done a lil' sump'um wrong --"
"But, Ughmo you 'fessin' that sometime we might do a lil' sump'um wrong?"
"Naw, um jes saying that we might sometime do a lil' sump'um not altogether right -- let's say a lil' sump'um unsociable."
"Then, put'n it that way shows jes how fair-minded wit the truth we is as a people --"
"Now you git'n to the grits in it, Amo -- I almost called you Amos."
"Well, Ughmo, I have to admit we was beginning to sound a lil' lak that Amos 'n Andy Show."
" 'Cept we speak mo' better English than them."
"And, Ughmo, if the police as' us to pull our britches up we s'pose to keep on hollering --"
"Police brutality!"

Brother Bubba

"Let's go," Bubba said"
"Where?"
"Downtown," he said.
"For what?"
"So white folks will notice us."
"What . . !  How we gonna steal sump'um if we want people looking at us . . ?"
"They try to pretend we don't exist -- that's why I wear my britches low, showing my behind --"
"You profiling yourself, Bubba."
"But that'll show'em um hin'r . . ."
"That's like business people retailing a product, like going in a fast-food place and they playing that music of some brother or sister screaming and whining for somebody to love 'em -- I have to get the hell outta there quick, fast, and in a hurry.  You wanna be like that music?"
"Whatever um is, um is what um is."
"No wonder other people are noted for their business community, their unique language, food, and customs; we wanna be noticed for how we wear our britches, profiling ourselves."