Tuesday, December 11, 2012

So. . . you're black and I'm not.

I've neglected this webpage, as you can see, for several months.

I'm in an increasing literal hibernation as I work to complete False Gods, my next novel. Seeing as how the book deals significantly with the business and economic climate in this country, I was waiting on the (dismal) results of the election.

During that time, I've kept an eye on the news stories and I keep seeing all this racist crap.

Excuse me, let me rephrase that--I've been reading how only white people are racist any time we freaking hiccup.

These accusations come from the BSMSM, with the "BS" standing for just that, and they come from the typical race baiters like the phony, mail-order ministers "Rev" Al Sharpton, "Rev" Jesse Jackson, et al, along with every community organizing rabble-rouser in inner-city hoods that scream and cry for more of people's hard-earned tax dollars.

I just read where a white tennis player stuffed towels in her bra and britches to impersonate her friend, a famous black tennis player. The media and race baiters are going batcrap crazy.

Sick of it. Absolutely sick of it.

Now, it's just fine for that asshat Jamie Foxx to joke about killing all the white people in his latest movie. It's all right for him to get on Saturday Night Live and joke about all the "blackness" that he sees as great. But if I call Jamie Foxx an ignorant n-word, I'm the bad guy?

Here's the deal. My best friend in the military was--and remains--black. He saved my ass once, and I saved his. We're closer than most brothers, regardless of what color they are. Anybody messes with him, they're messing with both of us. And vice versa. He married an Indian woman a long time ago--Indian as in Nez Perce. Actually, she's more of a half-breed, but that didn't matter to the white trash that gave them a bad time up where the Aryan assholes live. What those Aryans learned, painfully, is that good old-fashioned time-tested and proven military training trumps their little survival games and video game training any day.

Here at home, I have a very good friend who loves BBQ as much as I do, if not more. He also likes to fly and I happen to be a pilot. I adore his daughter and son and his wife is precious.

Oh, someone told me they're black. Really? Fair enough, I reckon, 'cause someone else told them that I'm white.

Not too long ago, I had my friend in the Cessna and we were off to a BBQ joint that serves up the world's greatest ribs--The Rib Shack. This is in a little small town southwest of Forth Worth and out in the country to boot.

Nobody else there noticed that I'm white or that my friend is black. They noticed how much we enjoyed their food. They REALLY noticed how much we bought and took home with us. And we go back there. If anyone hassles or harasses my friends, there will be hell to pay. And likewise.

 I grew up in the shadow of an Air Force base during the beginning of the Vietnam war. It was a neighborhood that the census would call "working poor," whatever the hell that means.

What I remember is that we had black folks, Mexican folks, Asians and white folks. The Asians were often half-breeds because Mom was from Korea or the Phillipines or Thailand and had met her husband during his tour of service. Mexicans? This is Texas and Mexico is just across the muddy river from us. Blacks? This is Texas and we're part of the South.

What I remember is all of these kids were my friends. When I wondered about why one of my friend's eyes didn't seem to open all the way, my mom took me to the library and showed me where the Asian countries were on a map and explained that narrow eye openings was simply a trait of many Asians. Made sense to me since being a bit darker than myself seemed to be a trait of most of the Mexican and black buddies I had.

It didn't matter then, so why the hell does it matter now?

Every ethnicity has its trash. You can easily spot that trash when they start throwing out the race cards and race-baiting. It really is that simple.