Tagged: blm

Are You Incited?

There’s another element that no one but me will dare to mention. Why won’t they? Because they’re actively pushing an agenda (being: life without consequences is the best life). This, of course, is their prerogative. All I ever ask is that we all tell the truth.

This post is not meant to rally the conservatives or preach to the choir. I am writing directly to literate BLMers. It is my intention to incite all three of them.

It’s not their attempt to deify the uncommonly poor decision maker George Floyd that bothers me. It’s that they also, indirectly and at times directly, idolize cowardly bystanders. The Bible commends the good Samaritan. BLM is the priest. BLM is the Levite.

This didn’t happen in the alleyway down below at 2:30am on Kitty Genovese Avenue. Having occurred during broad daylight doesn’t make the situation worse for the police, and it does make the situation worse for George Floyd. Hint—most folks (even those with vices) know that “night time is the right time” for shameful behaviors.

Wyatt Earp’s actions during the famous OK Corral shootout were captured by a journalist in the phrase that said Earp was “cool as a cucumber” during the gunfight. What law enforcement training program did Earp receive his certificate from, again? Which department would our wild ancestors have gone to to file a complaint against Earp? Dodge City? Anyone able to pull up those records quick? Siri, a little help?

You BLMers are so fed up with white supremacy and cops killing blacks that every time it happens you stop to watch the black man or woman die? And not just stop, but record the killing (and your cowardly inaction) for posterity sake? How do you sleep at night? All week we have read about how all those known as Gen Y, Millenials, Gen Z, iGen, and younger, those who see racism imprinted in the very institutions of America—in their own parents—so clearly and darkly, aren’t really even hopeful that Chauvin will be convicted. And all these self-same youngsters with the most penetrating eye, when they see a man being murdered, instead of help him, they capture it on film? Give me a break. You just didn’t want George and friends to head towards you when he got up. Tell the truth.

George Floyd would still be alive if just one observer—just one—would’ve taken action against the officers. The ensuing chaos would’ve, at the least, bought time for the man’s enlarged heart (why do I know the size of this man’s heart?) to slow down, and at the most, the ensuing chaos—lifesaving as it would’ve been—would’ve made the news for its model of a proper way to intervene the next time Ol’ Whitey gets the idea to kill a black man. (And we all know there will be a next time, wink wink.)

Would that observer have suffered some kind of negative consequence for his or her action? Probably. But the newest god, George Floyd, would have missed his chance at immortality and be alive and well today, right? And that’s the most important thing, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t drawing breath the most important value in America? Breathing clean air is why we’re doing any of this, isn’t it? Going green, rewriting history, colonizing Mars, and filming black people as they die. It’s all about guaranteeing clean air to breathe into uncompressed lungs.

That’s as far as BLM has gotten. We could be naked, cold, and hungry, but if we’re all naked, cold, and hungry, maybe they’ll write a book about us.

Are you incited?

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Let’s Be Honest

Can we be honest with each other, you and me? Let’s be honest. This whole “Say Her Name” challenge chant that accompanies the now nightly tide of stupidity is an indefensible, ignorant, and superstitious holdover from Old Testament days and Old Testament locations.

I get it. The “whites” who are marching alongside the “blacks” are trying to be empathetic and sympathetic (and many other multi-syllabic words which these self-same “blacks” still aren’t certain as to whether they mean friend or foe). And in their skin-deep efforts, the “whites” are willing to go with the flow. In the meantime, the “whites”, who also like to wrap the utterance of “RBG” in a knowing look (Do you honestly believe you knew her? I know that you haven’t read one, not one, of her opinions. Stop the nonsense.)—as I was saying—the “whites” have tragically left their thinking caps at home when they pack their camelbacks for the day trip downtown. But if they knew what the “blacks” chanting “Say Her Name!” really meant to accomplish—some kind of wishful, but literal, deification of the dead #BreeWay—I have to believe that these “whites” would pack it up and head home.

Despite the “blacks’” most passionate and honest desire to take us back to the days when crossing the Jordan meant something, since the Resurrection, the utterance of only one name actually requires decision, actually might have consequence, and that name, as you know, is Jesus. And even here most people, Christians included, don’t really believe the good Lord is going to hold their silence against them at the Pearly Gates.

Anecdotally, I’m told that in Ethiopia if a person exclaims, “Jesus!” after dropping a dish, stubbing their toe, or hearing a loud noise, then a non-believer will often playfully retort, “Are you Pente?” They, of course, mean “of the pentecostal denomination” which is renowned for placing great value on all things uttered. I mention that here because that should get you close to understanding what the “blacks” you’re marching alongside, and posting yard signs in support of, really mean.

On the whole, in this superficially diverse movement, the “blacks” are foolish for thinking this is finally “their” moment—foolish especially for believing the “whites” who literally have nothing better to do with their time really care. And the “whites” are foolish for dropping the great legacy of skepticism and regressing to the point of ancestor worship. To be clear: Civilized man doesn’t do ancestor worship anymore. There is power in the name of Jesus (or there might be), but that’s it. No amount of chanting any other audible elixir will ever change that. So let’s be honest. You know this. Or you used to. Please remember it.

Uncursed Art

“…we ought rather to be proud of the fact that American literature can boast of at least one good, decent, Christian author who was cursed neither with self-consciousness nor with false modesty, those banes of art.” — William Leigh Jr.

The NBA players are so stupid that they can’t distinguish between “boycotting” and “quitting”. You can’t boycott yourself. Or, I guess you can, but it’s called quitting. Let it be said, unsurprisingly, when times got rough, LeBron quit.

Heading into this election, I have the same feeling I had last election: Trump is going to win. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t have to make sense. I offer as proof the fact that so many well-to-do whites hate him.

Vice President Mike Pence is Uncle Tom. It’s remarkable to me. Whether he really is as squeaky clean as his image makes him appear, I look at Pence and see a man rewarded for simple obedience. In this way, he is a genius and I couldn’t respect him more.

I watched, for obvious reasons, Black Panther last night. The notion of Wakanda is still troubling to me. I want to be Batman. I wouldn’t mind being Superman. Wolverine would be a great superhero to embody. But I can’t get with Black Panther. His ultimate power is his hidden culture? His ultimate power is he knows that his people are better than generally perceived? More and more I find myself persuaded that the single most harmful thought to a man is the notion that his ancestors were enslaved, the notion that his “people” were a victim at some point, the notion that someone else is controlling his destiny.

Peggy Noonan is out of touch. Evidence: she pontificated about what a 12 year old would think after watching the DNC. She said, “I’d wonder if I had a chance.” Well, I spend a lot of time around two ten year olds. This is what they would think, this is what they would say after watching the DNC, “Tonight’s the night. I am going to tell him I’m gay. No, wait, I’ll say ‘LGBTQ.’ Or maybe I’ll just tell him who I ‘like’ right now.” Then the child would utter some strong, terribly heartfelt call for wearing masks, taking vaccines, and a defense of all things black, all things China, all things climate, all things women, all things equality, all things diversity, and all things safety. In other words, the 12 year old would think and speak like a child. Because they are one.

I Feel Like Writing

Two columnists I came across this last week (6/26) on the same news aggregate site ended their pieces with the exact same George Orwell quote. Additionally, a few weeks ago my very best friend had texted me the same quote. Apparently, I need to get out more.

Here’s Orwell:

Every record has been destroyed or falsified, every book rewritten, every picture has been repainted, every statue and street building has been renamed, every date has been altered. And the process is continuing day by day and minute by minute. History has stopped. Nothing exists except an endless present in which the Party is always right.

What on God’s green earth am I supposed to do with this thing? Life is not some exercise in matching up novels with reality. George Orwell’s position in history, his position in literature is in no way affected by this repetition or attempt at application. Again, what, precisely, am I supposed to do with this thing?

Is BLM the “Party”? Has ANTIFA destroyed every record and rewritten every book? I hardly think so.

And these three fellas are some of the folks I generally trust. But the uncertain times have not only affected them. All those who would pick up a pen are affected. I haven’t come across anyone, not one doggone writer, who has anything to say.

Laboriously, then, I–your Captain–will pick up the slack and write. And in so doing I hope to encourage similar thinking and behavior.

There are many, many places to start, but the one that’s on my mind is the claim, “White Silence is Violence.”

The response to this claim comes from George Washington.

Now, you don’t have to announce that you’re quoting him to use his advice. But I wanted you to know, because it is true and it does matter.

Anyhow, I recently came across the following at the end of the brief entry on his life found in Vol. 13 of the obscure, but incredible, Library of Southern Literature under the heading, “Selected Maxims of Washington”, then sub-heading, “The Best Answer to Calumny.”

The approved response to, “White Silence is Violence,” from Washington (again, you are in no way obligated to announce that detail, perhaps trivial, if you feel like it would stop up your listener’s ears) is:

To persevere in one’s duty and be silent is the best answer to calumny.

(Dictionary.com has ‘calumny’ as “a false and malicious statement designed to injure the reputation of someone or something.”)