…And One More Thing About Ferguson! (Then I’m Back To Shutting Up)

Let’s be clear. Arresting the officer who killed Michael Brown is not justice. Sure, it’s a pound of flesh…but you gotta rip that flesh from an 800-kb gorilla.

There is no such thing as justice for the family of Michael Brown. Prosecuting the officer who shot him is a necessary but arguably punitive measure that may bring about satisfaction or a sense of fairness but should certainly not be mistaken for justice because justice presupposes a sense of moral rightness. And in a place like Ferguson, MO…that just ain’t gonna be possible for everybody just by arresting one trigger happy cop.

 The 1990 census reports that blacks made up 25% of the population of Ferguson. By 2010, just 30 years later, that demographic grew to 67%. Yet, all the powers-that-be in Ferguson remain white. The mayor’s white, the chief of police is white, six out of seven city council members are white (that other one is Latino,) 6 outta 7 school board members are white (the other one IS black…so make a wish!) and all but three members of 53-member police department are white.

The last time I saw that much white, I was at a snow-covered ski resort in Liechtenstein on a polar bear rug eating mayonnaise on Wonder Bread with the NFL Wives’ Club. Oh yeah…or apartheid. I also saw it in apartheid. [uncomfortable silence]

The cop in question is a pawn in an entire system that oppresses black folks in Ferguson. And black folks have been playing along. The power structure will try to close ranks around him but make no mistake, he is nothing but a speed bump on the road to pacifying a people who contribute the majority of the economic base yet do not exercise or have the ability to exercise  (the jury is still out…but the jury is prolly all white, too) a voice in how they are governed and who will govern them.

 Black folks in Ferguson, and many towns across America that look like Ferguson, have been living under this 800-lb gorilla for the last 30 years. And by “living with” I mean, “oppressed by.”  And truthfully, oppression is as a deadly as a gun.  Certainly, the criminal act of murder must be prosecuted and punished. But sitting that cop in jail and returning to business as usual is not justice.  Justice for the community of Ferguson requires an insistence by the people that they be governed and policed by qualified people who look like them AND have as an agenda the best interest of a diversified community.  Otherwise, that community risks becoming a killing field for anyone…ANYONE…who is feared or misunderstood.  Death by gunshot, death by missed opportunity, death by lack of resources, death by an unsuitable education.  (Damn…ok, that’s kinda dramatic…but I’ma leave it in cuz I kinda need this point made)

 Without this change at this point, there can simply never be justice for the people of Ferguson.

Got that, Al Sharpton?

Boyz In The Hoodies

It is becoming clear to me that we still live in a society where our boys must be taught how to survive an encounter with authorities that may irrationally hate or fear them. While we see our boys simply as boys; some folks see our boys themselves as deadly weapons. This very simple yet overwhelmingly complex observation means that there is no such thing to some folks as an unarmed black boy – not even your silly, giggly baby big-boy in college who still loves to cuddle with you and eat pancakes shaped like Mickey Mouse when his friends aren’t around. We can protest this truism all day but we will be stepping over the dead bodies of our sons in order to do so.

Now, the truth is – we don’t yet know what really happened in that car. There is a possibility that the police officer did what he was supposed to do. Just because the young man was black and unarmed doesn’t necessarily mean that he didn’t pose a real, rather than perceived, threat and that the officer didn’t respond with the appropriate amount of force.

Like the rest of us, the overwhelming majority of police officers just want to go home at the end of their workday. Unlike the rest of us, they, on a daily basis, deal with an element that could prevent them from doing so.

So the flip side is that even in our outrage, we must also teach our children to respect. Respect our communities (c’mon…looting? sigh…) respect each other (Drake?  Chris Brown?  squash the beef…k?) respect the rules of fashion (no hoodies, please…) and please, in the name of all that is holy, respect authority.

If we don’t teach our own sons to respect authority – the police must…and will.

That’s all I got for now. I reserve further comment until the city, state and federal folks have finished their investigation. (Just outta curiousity…does anyone really believe I’ma be quiet until then?)

Look! A Goose! (And Other Meaningless Distractions…)

Ok, so Rachel Jeantel is probably functionally illiterate.  I don’t have an inside voice.  We all have faults.

Let’s not get distracted from the issue at hand.  Somebody shot that black boy in a cold, hard murder and whether this girl is ignorant or not…her friend is dead.

Pointing out this girl’s social shortcomings is not fodder for shits and giggles.  There is real danger here.  Her humanity is at stake, her value as a human being.  If we can let her be profiled into this stereotypical hoodrat, we will be distracted while the defense subversively dehumanizes her…and eventually dehumanizes Trayvon.

Quiet as it’s kept, the defense loves this.  This witness gets marginalized; she’s just like the rest of the uneducated black chattel.  And Trayvon was her friend.

We watch while this girl is torn apart and by her own people.  Stop playing.  We know who she is.  She’s our daughter, our sister, our cousin…for whatever reason, she didn’t turn out the same way we did but she is no less family.  And, lest we forget, Trayvon was her friend.

That girl has been traumatized in a way I can’t imagine.  I think of all of my black male friends and family.  I know they are hunted daily by a predatory society that seeks to kill and destroy them.  God forbid, I would be a witness to the day, the moment when one of them was overcome.  Which one of their murders should get smaller than my shortcomings when I step on the world stage to tell his story?

Remembering Trayvon means remembering TRAYVON.

My Open, Dear John McCain Letter to the New GOP

I read some of the conservative blogs out there and I’m embarrassed by the increasingly racist rhetoric in the voice of the GOP.  The conservative blogosphere seems to be intent on demonizing President Obama and other minorities in the Demoncratic party (Oops, typo — my bad) as well as galvanizing our ever-present and growing contingency of nutballs into some sort of racially induced frenzy.

For 20 years, my stance has been that while the GOP has no particular affinity for minorities, for the most part, they are not intentionally pushing policies that prohibit us from defining and reaching our own success.   That works for me.  I don’t need a whole buncha uptight crazies inviting me to their table.  Especially since that table is probably in an isolated bunker somewhere in Montana.

The fact is, new GOP, you are not doing enough to ensure the very principles upon which you are founded are preserved.  You’ve been absolutely impotent for the past three plus years because you’re still too angry about who came to dinner.  Instead of channeling that anger into a sound conservative alternative that doesn’t require that I join you in the bunker, you’re acting like a bunch of bitches. And blind bitches, at that.

As carelessly as folks in the new GOP use the President’s race to overtly or covertly attack him, you continue to deny that racism exists in the ’12.   Without seeing the obvious effects of institutionalized racism, then you must really believe that we black and brown minorities are just shiftless, lazy layabouts who make babies out of wedlock, are not educable and commit crimes because we like the food in jail.  (I say black and brown minorities because Asians seem to be ok with you.  But, of course, who doesn’t love a cute, obedient, pocket-sized Oriental! Especially now that Coach makes those cool carriers.)

See, racism creates institutions that are designed to disenfranchise entire groups of people, move the prize out of their reach and then make it look like they’re at fault.  Racism also makes that disenfranchised group believe that they have no ability to jump up to reach that prize.   You get the second part…but I don’t think you get the first part.

I can see why.  Most of the minorities in your circle are afraid to speak out about the first part.   But telling half the story is no better than telling a lie.

Or maybe those inner circle minorities were just lucky enough to be largely unaffected by the first part.   For instance, I don’t believe there is anything my black ass cannot do once I set my mind to it.  Period.   You and your racist institutions couldn’t stop me if you tried.  And I dare you to try…cuz I haven’t doled out a good solid ass whoopin’ since….well, never…you know I can’t fight.  But that’s not my point – my point is that racism can’t affect me personally because I don’t allow it to.  Close the door? I’m coming in the window. (Unless said window is in Sanford, FL…)

Listen, just because you can’t see something or are not affected by something, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.  Kinda like Newt Gingrich’s sex appeal…not evident to the casual observer but chicks are bangin’ him in droves so there’s at least circumstantial evidence to support it’s existence.

It does exist and as long as it affects anyone, then it must affect me also.  (Racism, not Newt’s alleged sexy)  Wrong is wrong.

So, I think we need to be apart for a while, my dearest GOP;  perhaps some distance will give us both the perspective that we need.  Perhaps I’m a bit sensitive from seeing my brothers and sisters gunned down in the streets lately with no consequence.  Or maybe I’m just a bitch.

All I know, is that this time around, I won’t be at the party.   You will have to earn my love and my vote…and if the last three years have been an indication, it ain’t looking good.

*sigh*  it’s the end of an era…Uncle Gipper would be so ashamed.

Love,

Kimchi and Collard Greens

Ps – Don’t worry….I won’t be getting in bed with your equally impotent but whinier rival to spite you. I couldn’t stomach that.

Now Ain’t The Time For Your Tears…

So, the police chief of Sanford, FL steps down but defends his departments action, or rather, lack of action in the Trayvon Martin murder.  That’s like a big ole’ slap in America’s multicultural face.  Why?  Because we’re supposed to be different, better even.

My sister, when faced with the impossible, loves to say, “If we can put a man on the moon, then we can surely…blah, blah, blah”  It would be sad to think that for all of our advancements in the last fifty years, the one concept that continues to elude us is justice for all.  For crying out loud, it’s in the Pledge of Allegiance! 

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands one nation under God indivisible with liberty and justice for all. *sigh. sad, heavy sigh*

I’m holding up my end of the bargain, America.  Whatchu got?

People, now is the time for action…but what are we to do?

The devaluation of black life, brown life, poor life, immigrant life…all of it…needs a melody to haunt us until we figure it out.  (Here’s Dylan performing one)

Thank you, GT Christie, for the education.  Sad to think that almost 50 years later, things really aren’t that different. In fact, they seem to be worse since we can’t even get the man arrested. (Here are the lyrics) 

These are powerful words, y’all.  I quoted some of them in my letter to my Congressman Frank Lautenberg and copied his major opponent, Dick Zimmer. (yes, Zimmer)  In my letter, I promised to visit soon to talk through any points that didn’t warrant action.  Won’t that be fun?

I’ll also send a copy to these folks…just for shits and giggles.  (Click Here for list of elected officials for Sanford FL)  

For no other reason than I simply don’t know what else to do, I’ll send a copy to the President, my governor, Florida’s governor, my mama, yo’ mama…

If that doesn’t work, I’m pulling out the big guns — that’s right I’m writing to Harry Hairston.  That man gets results!

Black People, My People…This One’s For Us

So, you’re having a good day chillin’ with the fam and your big-headed little brother wants you to get him some Skittles. Go on and hook your li’l homey up. No problem. The store is just 10 minutes from the house which is in a gated community. A gated community! You got no problems in a gated community…until you realize that the gate was left open and the problem, young brotha, is you.

I think we’ve gotten used to black folks being thought of as a problem but in our circles, it was truly always “their” problem. This unstated distinction maintains the necessary distance between our kind of black people and “their” kind of black people so that we could justify our inaction while black folk in the hood were navigating their way home through veritable war zones. We watch from the sidelines as Philadelphia decomposes into Mogadishu and Detroit devolves into Baghdad because even though we may not live that far from these American cities geographically, the space between us might as well be light years. “Those” blacks…and us.

And the ugly truth is those light years help us to dissociate from the the horror and rage of our own people being gunned down in the streets because of the color of “their” skin times the hopelessness of “their” circumstance divided by “their” own desperate choices. You know who “those” people are cuz it’s a small black world and very few of us are without a connection to the hood…everybody knows your Big Mama been in that house 65 years and she ain’t goin’ NO-where. Not to mention, visiting certain cousins and play cousins surely means getting dragged all over the hood, eating good while dodging bullets. And you know good and hell well your aunties ain’t never leaving that church, you know the one next to the “lickastow.” (Thank you for the correct spelling, Ki-Ki-Kins)

So despite evidence to the contrary, we cling to the hope that the proverbial tracks will not only separate us from “them” but more importantly distinguish us from “them.”

Sadly, Trayvon Martin reminds us that the distinction between us and “them” is a construct of our well-heeled, gainfully employed, proper-talking, college-educated imagination. That gunman did not know that Trayvon Martin was one of us. That’s not his fault. He probably doesn’t know that many of us. But he’s probably come across quite a few of “them” or perhaps he watches BET. And you know the saying, “If it looks like a duck…then shoot that muthaf$#%” From a distance, we all look the same to white folk…and don’t you damn forget it. Don’t let Chris Rock fool you…there is NO us and “them.” Just us. But no justice for us.

Beautiful, brilliant black children are being gunned down and otherwise destroyed in the hood every day without the requisite outrage afforded to the same offense against beautiful, brilliant, black middle-class children. As long as it’s “those” kids, it never hits close to enough to home. Move that home across town and put it behind a gate…now we got some problems. The truth is Trayvon Martin is one more reminder of America’s disregard for black life regardless of class or status. We’ll all get our panties in a bunch and some mighty white force will swoop down and arrest the gunman and we’ll all rest in the assurance that America loves us, too. We’ll be so distracted by all that damn love, we won’t even see the knife coming straight for our collective back. So, yes, be outraged and indignant but be so each time you hear of black children being killed, abused or disregarded…even the ones in Compton.

I know it’s hard, black people. And if it’s hard for us, imagine how hard it is for all the good white people who are, I’m sure, completely appalled at yet another incident to pile on top of their mountainous burden of white guilt. Well, some of them are. The others are re-loading. They didn’t all vote for Obama…so watch your ass and your son’s ass, too. Tell him that he is the best thing that ever happened to you. And let him have the big piece of chicken. And hold him just a bit tighter when you tell him you love him. He’ll probably be suspicious at this point, and maybe even a bit scared, once you do all that…but that’s okay. Because we, as a society of all races, owe our black children an apology for failing to give them a safe place in this world, where they can be loved and valued and certainly not murdered in the street without consequence.

My heart goes out to every mother who has buried a child just because he looked like us. We are supposed to pray on our children, not prey on our children.

DISCLAIMER: No white people or uppity ass black folk were harmed in the writing of this post.

Roger Ebert, You Get Two Thumbs Down – One From The N****r, One From The Slave!

I agree with Roger Ebert on two points.  I’d also rather be called a nigger than a slave and yes, he certainly “should have shut the f*ck up.”  That said, Roger, I see you.  I see the point you were making and I appreciate the retraction based on lack of experience.  I hope the nigger you married appreciates it, too.

Can I get something of my chest?  Can I ask a muthaf&#@in’ question?

How do we get to a place where a white man feels comfortable enough to use the word “nigger” in as public a forum as Twitter?

Black people, I blame us for a lot of this.

Roger Ebert ain’t no solo act.  There are many white people who are confused by black folk.  Some of them are trying to engage.   They listen to black music, watch black TV, have black friends.  And by black, I mean BET.  Cuz on the outside lookin’ in…somebody without knowledge will believe that what you see on BET is the totality of who black people are.  Not cuz it’s true but because the BET blacks just tend to be louder.  You know…squeaky wheel, blah, blah, blah…

So, now we got a bunch of white folk running around, sounding like rappers and acting like coons.  They think they’re honorary black people.  And there are some black folk who are both entertained and, sadly, validated by this bullshit.  Hey, black people, look at the white boy, shuckin’ and jivin’…and mispronouncing all of our little colorful colloquialisms.  He cool as shit, ain’t he?

But why that white boy don’t never act like Barack Obama?  Why doesn’t he ever emulate J.C. Watts? Or Orpah Winfrey? Or Kenneth Chenault?  Or Valerie Jarrett? Or Ann Fudge? Or any number of the black teachers, social workers, stay at home parents with working spouses, ministers (sans Eddie Long, of course) and college graduates who return home to their communities to work the front lines and ensure that the masses of our people see a way forward?  Ain’t they black?  How come Eminem…don’t act like none o’them?  (Dope rhyme, no?)

The answer is that in this country folk, even black folk, still struggle to see and understand what black culture is outside of what we see on BET.   It’s sad when white folk struggle with it…it’s unforgivable when black folk struggle with it.

Our country has a long history of being entertained by the buffoonery that black culture has been unable to escape, often at our own doing.  Eminem, Roger Ebert – all that shit has a root in blackface.  Buncha white folk makin’ funny on some black folk and our condition in this country.  Buncha black folk givin’em all the ammunition they need.  We sho’ can dance, we sho’ do run fast!  Book learning??  Hell no…wanna race?  Catch the ball!  Run, nigger, run!!  *sigh*  Why else would that white man get on his Twitter and use a word that he know he ain’t allowed to use?  He married a black woman, for crying out loud, so I know he was, at least, CC’d on that memo.  To say he’d “rather be called a nigger than a slave?”  Who makes a statement like that?  I mean, really America??  Are those STILL the only two options for black people in the American psyche?  How ‘bout this, Mr. Ebert…I’d rather be called Kym…(though I will answer to my slave name – Kristi Yamaguchi)

Now, this is not an indictment of all white people because the overwhelming majority have a respectful indifference or a healthy curiosity about black culture. I appreciate both. It matches my own regarding other cultures as well.  I welcome dialogue and cultural participation but I categorically reject the mockery and contempt that breed this inappropriate familiarity that then leads some white folk to believe they can say whatever they want about us.  You can THINK whatever you want, you gotta speak according to the rules.  and yes, there ARE rules.

On a final note, I’m so glad that Roger Ebert was corrected by…uh, mainstream folk.  Al Sharpton can’t do it all.  It took a long time but I think I finally have a reason to be thankful for liberals.

Congressional Black Capitalism…CBC Weekend in D.C.

I made a quick run this past weekend to the Congressional Black Caucus in D.C. expecting to see bright (albeit liberal,) innovative, empowered folks being all congressional, being all black and being all caucus-y.  The thing about one outta three?  It ain’t even half the damn battle.

First, lemme say that I only attended one CBC-sponsored event and that was a party (Heyyyy!)  But as I looked around at the beautiful, well-heeled, superbly educated black folk sipping expensive cocktails and eating overpriced rubber chicken, it occurred to me that the difference in buying power between poor and middle class black folk has polemically displaced the folk who are caucusin’ from the folk who are strugglin‘.  So, what the hell is the purpose of this conference again?   After all, shouldn’t the plight of strugglin’ black folk in America be at the top of the agenda for the CBC?  That would make sense to me but I didn’t see any poor black folk in the room.  C’mon!  There’s an endless supply of poor black people in D.C. – seems to me, with those kinda numbers, it would be harder to keep ‘em out then get ‘em in.

Ok, so – benefit of the doubt- maybe they couldn’t figure out how to get strugglin’ black folk engaged in the caucus.  Other than INVITING SOME (do I need to repeat that?) one option would be to employ some.  Coulda killed two birds with one stone. Mighta held a party or two at a black owned restaurant. Perhaps you coulda had some black folks provide catering — maybe that cooning, grinning, she-buck of an Aunt Jemima from the Popeye’s commercial coulda whipped up some chicken and shit.  That woulda been impressive!  There were some missed opportunities here, guys.  Standing near the dance floor listening to “Play That Funky Music, White Boy” – I surprised to see that, well, he was.  WTF?  How ‘bout a black DJ?  You a damn lie if you say you couldn’t find one.  Finding a black DJ in D.C. is easier than finding your own ass…in your own pants…with an ass map.  And what about security?  Wait – the bouncers WERE black.  They’re always black.

Maybe I’m overstepping since I only attended one event and quite frankly I have neither the time nor inclination to fact check the vendor list.  But if there were some strugglin’ black folk in there, I swear they were hiding behind the ice sculpture or the big punch bowl with the two little silver cherubs pissing out champagne punch.

So, the whole thing just seemed like a masturbatory exercise designed for the black middle class to showcase not only our own perceived success but also our continued willingness to push black dollars out of our own communities where they are sorely needed.  How very liberal indeed.

Yet, even in the face of this political Mardi Gras, I still had to address the “sellout” topic this weekend because I’m a Republican.

Let’s clear the air, I confess – the Republican party don’t want yo’ black ass.  Sorry.  They don’t want my black ass, either.  Stop worrying about folk wantin’ us and worry more about what’s going on in our families and communities.  I don’t give a damn if a Republican wants me at the rally, in the PAC, at the reception, in the neighborhood.  They may not want me there but they sure as hell want my ass contributing to their party – in the pocketbook and in the voting booth.  And as a result, I have a voice and an opportunity.  Particularly, if I combine that voice with other like-minded people – those who put community, not politics, first.  That’s what I thought CBC was about.  Not a back patting festival for liberals and their financially crippling ideology.

And quit giving default and undeserved credit to these impotent Democrats.  Democrats don’t want our black asses anymore than the Republicans do.  The biggest con in the history of mankind is the presupposition that the Democratic Party has a particular affinity for minorities.   Designing policies that keep folks dependent on government programs and handouts is no evidence of affinity, my friends.  To quote J.C. Watts, “race-hustling poverty pimps” is a more accurate description.

The problem is, black folk, we still ain’t raising our voices adequately. CBC 2010 would have been the perfect platform for raising our voices.  But what was painfully obvious this weekend is that most of us are so disconnected that we clearly don’t know what the hell to say when we do.  Racism and it’s deleterious effects are alive and well – and so deeply ingrained in our culture and our collective psyche that every policy ever created, even the “FUBU” one, has two sides – the white side and the black side (with other minority groups falling somewhere in the middle.)  And you can bet a howler monkey’s big red ass, the black side is on the wrong the side of both parties.  The job of a bi-partisan, yes, bi-partisan CBC should be to empower us to work our way around it.

Damn, It Ain’t Like We’re Trying To Get Whitney And Bobby Back Together!!

I’d appreciate it if everybody took a step back and got off the President’s nuts for like two seconds.  That should be enough time for us to really look at the issue of the proposed Ground Zero Mosque and fully realize that awfully handsome man is just doing his job, DAMN!  Upholding the Constitution…that IS why we pay him the big bucks, right?  This country was founded on freedom of religion.  Period.  Not just the religions we like.  All of ‘em, even the altogether absence of ‘em.  The most dangerous precedent we can set is to withhold the rights of an entire group of people for the behavior of a few.   And I’m not just saying that to dissociate myself from Flavor Flav. (Although, in all honesty, it is also a desired outcome.)

Don’t get me wrong, I see the challenge.  In this country, we’ve always suffered from a cognitive dissonance between the America our Constitution says we are and the America we actually live and believe.  Somebody betta tell the mama that the baby is ugly.  The great foundation that our forefathers built for us would be rocked to the core by the premise that we would prevent someone from exercising their rights because of their religion, if emotions run high enough or if someone’s religion is scary enough.  The moment we cross that line, we cease to be true Americans.  I don’t know about you but I’m not willing to give that up.  I live, die and bleed red, white and blue.  I believe that America is the greatest country on earth and the Constitution the greatest written work ever thought of by man.  My strange allegiance to Liechtenstein and Right On! magazine notwithstanding.

So, instead of crossing that line, let’s deal with the real issue.  It’s ugly but somebody needs to say it…we, as Americans, are still struggling to forgive Muslims, all Muslims for 9/11 and for the numerous acts of terrorism that followed, whether they were perpetrated by radicals or by states.  We also overlook or forget or simply don’t know what it means that many Muslims are also Americans.  That’s right, many of our fellow countrymen – patriotic, loyal and sincere – are Muslims.  Denial is a bitch – a big, hairy, nekkid bitch with morning breath.  Because while we talk a good game about embracing Muslims, we’ve been talking that game out of both sides of our mouths.  In other words, we been talkin’ shit, folks.

The overwhelming majority of Muslims are no more responsible for 9/11 than the overwhelming majority of Americans are for all of the warmongering that has taken place since.  Yet they’ve become a pariah for polite company.  In hushed tones, we exchange knowing glances and phrases like, “one of them…you know what I mean.”  Somehow, it’s become okay to “know what folk mean” when they cross the lines of respect and equality for Muslims.  Americans get all behind equality when you mean that an Irishman is no better than a German.  But throw some colored folk in the mix and all of a sudden them tones become hushed and them glances become knowing.  There’s still a good deal of healing and tolerance that needs to take place so that we can even begin to seek real reconciliation with the Muslim world.

At the end of the day, the person who we should be saving all our sass and moxie for is the damn Imam who’s kicking America straight in our nuts by trying to put the mosque at Ground Zero in the first place.  He claims to be seeking reconciliation and perhaps his strategy is to rip the bandaid off aggressively but really what he’s doing is shining a very uncomfortable light on America’s intolerance while blatantly slapping the victims of 9/11 in the face.  I’m all for rights but I believe that, in America, one way  we respect one another is by collectively honoring those events and places that are historically painful for constituent groups.  A mosque at Ground Zero is perfectly legal, may even still be ethical, but not at all sensitive to the loss of life and safety that Americans suffered that day.  It offends my sensibilities as an American and I am wholly and entirely against it.  Not because it’s wrong but because it hurts.

Wherever the boundaries of sensibilities lie in this situation, the positive note is that we can use this lack of judgement of one leader’s part to catapult us toward the reconciliation between the Muslim and western worlds that eluded Bush and continues to be beyond Obama’s reach as well.  I pray to my God, just as I’m certain that both devout and moderate Muslims pray to theirs, for an end to the violence and the warfare that has plagued this world since our brotherly progenitors parted ways centuries ago.  Surely, if Jermaine and Tito can work out their differences, we, the children of Isaac and Ishmael can work out ours.

DISCLAIMER: His Views Are Democratic Views, Not Black Views. He’s Running For Senate; Not The NAACP!

Can we start a petition? South Carolina has got to go! 

Those mofo’s just elected Bruh Man from the Fifth Flo’ as the Democratic Senate candidate slated to to run against the much better qualified and properly funded white Republican incumbent, Jim DeMint who is already picking out the new furniture and old ho’s he is going to redecorate his office with to celebrate his second term. (click here)   South Carolina first made it clear that their politicians don’t care about the state’s image and now…the people have proven that they don’t care either.  And if they do indeed care, then they need to fire their Democratic Committee Chair who claims they voted, get this, alphabetically.  Alphabetically?  What kinda shit is that? Even a four year knows that you go eeny-meeny-miney-mo when you need to make a tough decision.

South Carolina continues to make a mockery of the American process of kinda-sorta democracy-ish…and I’m done with these scan’lous bastards!  So, the well-known game amongst South Carolina Republican political operatives is that you get white conservatives out to the ballot boxes when you put a black candidate on the ballot.  Them white folks will shut that whole state down so they can get out to vote and make sure they don’t end up with a black candidate.  But if you’re going to play these kind of games, at least try to fool somebody.  Why pick THIS particular black man?  You coulda picked any black guy, even one as purty and shiny as a new nickel…and he’d still lose in that racist state.  So, why not upgrade?  Why is this the best black man you can find in South Carolina?  You shoulda called me – there are quite a few fantastic, qualified black men in South Carolina. You coulda picked one of them and then I wouldn’t have to explain this loser to everybody at work tomorrow.  Clearly, we are going to have to work on SC’s high quality negro detection skills.

Or maybe that’s the not issue at all.  Maybe the real issue is that Barack Obama got these white folks all turned around and confused.  Maybe it wasn’t a trick.  I mean he is an awe-inspiring man; intelligent, fine, polished, fine, powerful and don’t forget, fine.  But y’all know he ain’t come out the box that way, right?  Some assembly was required.  Michelle (and probably her mama) had to shape him up, mold him, y’know put a little water in his mouth…but more importantly, she had to sprinkle him with her Magical Negro Dust.  Clearly, Arnold Greene ain’t been dusted.  Arnold Greene is just dusty.  And there is a difference!