I’m on the train and this big black guy gets on, a real big gorilla and he says, “I’m gonna kill ya all!”
This fuggin’ gorilla starts threatening people and they move when they can. Some of them are stuck. Then he starts in on this Polish woman. I can tell that she is Polish by her accent when she starts asking people, “Help, please help me.”
This giant ape is sitting across the aisle from her making threats and no body was going to mix it up with this guy. This guy was huge and he was one of those not very young insane black guys that plays the “I’m crazy,” game.
I don’t know how I could have dealt with this guy. But no one, none of these fuggin’ people, would lift a finger for this woman. She was in tears, frightened. You know that he could have scooped her up and carried her off. So, I stood up and I walked [left] over by her, held onto the bar [with left hand, her seated on his left under him], looking across the aisle to this gorilla.
This guy gets agitated and I think, ‘Oh, it might be on.’
But I just couldn’t watch him terrorize this lady. Besides, she was not some shitty American ϲunt, some hipster bitch, black beast, Dominican whore or some miserable Karen. She was a nice lady and none of those thirty men or women on the train were going to help her, or me.
The beast mumbles something, like he’s goin’ to do something and the lady kind of shivers and I say, “I’m here, Miss, right here. Nothing is goin’ to happen to you while I’m here.”
Then, the black beast does his retarded head movement and shoulder rolls and rolls his eyes and looks down...and he gets off the train right there, at the next stop.
Let me tell you, I breathed a sigh of relief and that lady, that Polish lady—a young woman—she thanked me. I felt better about myself after that and know I would have felt horrible inside if I had let this terrorizing continue.
So, I have to ask you James, what would you have done in that situation?
-Mescaline Franklin
…
I have been in that situation dozens of times at bus stops, on buses, in shopping centers and other centers of High Hyena Man Culture.
I have always done the same thing, one of two options.
If a person is being preyed upon by one or more men or youths, I watch with zoological interest, like Jane Goodall observing the Chimpanzees of Gombo. The chimps have a natural affinity for ostentatious display and entertainment. They are all playing to an audience. I take the Presidential Booth at their theater of the damned.
That ape was focusing on that Polish lady like a magnifying glass focusing on dry tinder to start a fire, a fire of fear. She was his panic button to drive fear into the heart of all 30 people on that train. He was right, and it worked, except for you, who ruined his caper. I would have been more valuable to him than the other 30 who were in fear. For instead of looking away or cringing, or hoping that I was not next, I would have been his keenest observer and done absolutely nothing for the lady, even if he began beating her.
But, I would not look away. I would observe the lower life forms in action. When taking this observer role I see myself as a superior life form observing the squalor of the wretches huddled about the walls of my unconcern. Such an event in my life, has often enabled me to kill various caring portions of my being and make myself more survivable against the enemy—and that enemy is the world, which includes that Polish woman.
My other method for dealing with such scenes, also includes doing absolutely nothing to aid those who deserve to be preyed upon by such predators. The lady sounded nice and sweet. But in Urban America that is the first qualification of prey, to taste good, to quiver, and shiver when their soul is devoured before their body is even harmed.
My other tactic depends only on how I feel. Am I mad at the world, a person, a kind of person, myself?
If I am angry or very fit and lively—like after sparring—I will eye fuck the terrorist, daring him to come at me, rehearsing his evisceration or throat cutting and scalping over and over in my mind, thirsting for him to threaten me and feed the only hard part of my being—the only worthy portion of my soul. This has usually been sensed by the aggressor, who have all declined to come at me, and either leave, or redouble their aggression upon their victim, either resolution the same to me.
I have and will do nothing to help a strange victim of aggression. If that woman was a friend or relative or lover, I would have butchered the gorilla as she begged me not to and tried to save him from me.
I am not a good man.
In such situations I am an all or nothing person. When the aggressor senses this with his Cambrian level proto-mind he has always declined to be on the business end of All, and has left me alone to do Nothing.
If the woman had specifically asked me for help I would have demanded payment up front. For as little as a dollar I would commit an extreme act of violence against my hereditary enemy. But I must be asked, must be paid, to dedicate my last action on earth to a stranger.
Brother, you are a much better man than I am, and that is why you live in pain and I live in repose, in the Realm of Satan, in this unholy garden of bad and worse.
2 quotes from above
"But in Urban America that is the first qualification of prey, to taste good, to quiver, and shiver when their soul is devoured before their body is even harmed."
and
"If the woman had specifically asked me for help I would have demanded payment up front. For as little as a dollar I would commit an extreme act of violence against my hereditary enemy. But I must be asked, must be paid, to dedicate my last action on earth to a stranger.
Brother, you are a much better man than I am, and that is why you live in pain and I live in repose, in the Realm of Satan, in this unholy garden of bad and worse."
Beautiful concepts. Mr. LaFond, I love your sense of just deserts. I've always seen things the same way and it's inspiring to know that I'm not alone.