Monday, June 11, 2012

Hood Intermissions

I suppose this is black urban social norms under the might of the NRA at its finest. One area where liberals still have me is on the interpretation of the Second Amendment, and in point of fact, I do not give a fuck how jurists want to read its bipolar sentence structure. It needs to be rewritten in favor of police and standing armies, notwithstanding the tyranny of executive power, because firepower doesn't resolve that kind of corruption, the hemorrhaging in Syria being a case in point. Philadelphia is no different from Georgia in this instance. African Americans enjoy using cheap violence to resolve disputes. In the disabled community, race is only discussed in terms of analogy, like something from a horse's ass, or the mouth of Cassie James, because the discarded are bound together. Not me. I actually read the black intellectuals that some of the residents I live with do not have the comprehension to interpolate in their daily lives, and I do not buy into the guilt that Al Sharpton has built into his visibility platform, and I can envision the sardonic mindfield a conversation between John McWhorter and myself would yield, not that McWhorter has any reason to acknowledge me, and if I actually wanted him to do so, it would probably be as an outlet for the emotional pain living in a black urban community has caused me. I'd pit my intellect against John's any day, my crippled fists swinging. I have observed, I have seen, and by the blood of Christ I am so disgusted by the way your damn underclass lives that a rewind to the willful blindness that my sister and brother deploy against me would be a blessing, and if you think I am not being fair to the black intelligentsia that makes progressives do cute dog tricks, you are within your justification, but even if I break down to the point that I really do become deranged, I will still suffer at the hands of the institutional caretaker who is on their way to being the same type of brutalist that I am today due to the same exposure and stress. Neither my father's more overt bigotry nor my attitude is responsible for that bleak rust belt society out there, and I do not want to see it anymore. That is why I hate this country. The United States is a lie, and nothing but, a lie of vacant celebrity, a bottleneck elite that strangles all else.

No comments:

Post a Comment