[written on 10/26/19, additional text added 12.30/19]
As I skulked forth from the mouth of the alley at 8:05 AM on Friday morning, October 25, 2019 I walked past about 20 mixed-age school children of various ebon hues, in a 70% pale residential area. It is notable that in an area with 70% pale residency that only 5% or less of students in the local schools are of the local ethnicity.
The fate of “’Im” pretty much explains this.
The ages of the students ranged from 10 to 18, with five or six being full adult size humans. The boy, who five 11- to 14-year-olds had been detailed to “get” seemed to be about 11, mild-mannered, wearing glasses, dark slacks, a belt and a white button shirt, and burdened with quite a heavy bookbag, a bag with many books in it. He was darker of skin than most of the five attackers and of most of the five adult-sized supervisors of his beating, most of whom were milk chocolate, while he came in around semi-sweet.
His glasses were still on as his chin rested in the soft, grassy mud, his arms and legs splayed as his sneakers were taken and his backpack was ripped away and the contents scattered in the moist grass. He looked up at me weepy-eyed and the headline flashed across my mind’s eye, “Nazi Kung Fu Master attacks innocent youth of color!”
As I glanced at a few of the larger ones to see if they were circling to attack me yet, and I noticed the nearest flinch and the biggest step back, I decided that the social justice war headline imagined in a flicker of my mind’s eye was not going to run. Sure that I was not the target of aggression, I left the poor little wildebeest fawn to the ravening pack of jackals and hyenas and kept walking as the hoots, and hollers of joyful despoilation and festive malice came to a crescendo of laughter behind me: another victory of evil over good, another placement of many over one, big over small, ignorant over, what, curious?
What the fuck was this race-traitor coconut doing with more books than a body needs to get through the school day?
Tryin’ ta be a big-brained nigga or sumptin’?
This traitor bitch had as many books as the cool kids and their lackey’s combined. He was definitely up to some bad shit—it’s a good thing his plans for the building of a nuclear bomb for the Nazis were derailed by this attack. Maybe Captain America should deputize those twenty or so worthy souls and send them after more book-reading Nazis…
I know that many folks are of the opinion that such violence is biological, not sociological.
My opinion is that it is both, but that our dualistic American mind implant will not accept a nuanced explanation.
I can say this, that when I was younger, the men who attacked me most often, were semi-sweet to dark on the chocolate scale, but that since 2008 most of the aggressors have fit the pattern of this attack on the boy, the lighter of skin the more violent.
A breakdown of the hoodrats who came at me with obvious bad intentions over the past two months in Baltimore, and changed their mind as I prepared the war club, in order of hue were:
-Faggotron, semi-sweet
-Sweatshirt, milk chocolate
-Scout, pale beige
-Oops, light caramel
-Oh ‘Shit, straw yellow
Official deaths in Baltimore stand at 343, marking an obvious attempt at misreporting murders as told to me by one officer earlier this year, who insisted that if “they don’t die in the hospital they don’t die on paper,” and possibly holding off on listing killings until January 1, in order to push them into the next year. All four of the most recent murders are without names or races. Of course, based on the rainbow of aggression listed above, can we blame the pigs, who have not been authorized to list a “Mystery Meat” category, for looking down into the gutter and musing, “What the fuck is this, Cablinasian, Hispanipster, Chinegro or Inhispajamas?”
