From the time I was a teenager martial arts and self defense teachers have extolled the virtue of verbal engagement. The advice has been varied and includes numerous versions of the following basic templates:

1. Announcing that you are armed or a black belt

2. Using a war cry, scream, karate yell, etc, to startle the antagonist

3. Calmly talk your way out of a physical escalation

Such advice is of limited utility, even with same sex, same age, same race aggressors in social situations, and is generally worthless in predatory scenarios.

Giving such advice to a white person preparing to defend in a black ethical zone is roughly the same as telling General George Armstrong Custer, to take his hundred and some men down into the Little Big Horn watershed, and when he finds a herd of 3,000 ponies, to run up the flag, set out a picnic, and break out the harmonicas for a sing along.

Ghettoized blacks are all raised by women, and have an overwhelming tendency to

and escalate

confrontations with unprepared white people through verbalization. As crazy as it seems, your typical confrontation with a strange black man who is trying to determine if you are ripe for the picking, will begin with a searching or belligerent emotive phrase, just like bitchy wives and girl friends start arguments with their husbands and men. Below is one example from today, Sunday, 5/17/15.

At 10:40 a.m. I was walking out Harford Road from Hamilton to Mike’s house in Parkville. As I passed the dollar store I heard young people behind me. By their sound they were 12-14 year old black females. Keeping in mind that the primary reason for the existence of black females is getting black males into confrontations with white males, I always ignore such groups. I am normally left studiously alone.

However, today I am dressed casually, not raggedly for work, and am holding an umbrella over my head, to keep off the light rain which might damage the 1958 paperback book I am carrying in my pocket. Other non violent people are out and about: a black woman and three children heading to church under an umbrella, a white couple heading to church with a bible and an umbrella, an African man heading to church with a bible and an umbrella.

Across the street is a feral dope fiend, making his way out the way parallel with me with his yawning gait. He is not spoken to by the hoodrat honeys, just as I would not normally be spoken to by the demonesses of the ghetto.

An adolescent female voice from behind me says, “Hey?”

I walk on.

“Hey, Umbrella Man?”

I walk on.

“Hey, yo, Umbrella Man!”

I walk on.

“Where you goin’ Umbrella man?”

I walk on.

“Whereva it is you betta keep on goin’, before we pull a bitch train on your CVS ass!”

I walk on, wondering if I have actually been threatened with gang rape by a clutch of teenage wenches on Sunday morning.

Have they mistaken me for a CVS manager that barred them for stealing?

Were they evoking the dread act of hoodrat arson of the CVS store recently seen around the world?

Who knows, and who cares. The only important thing to recall about any conversation initiated by an urban black person is that it is an attempt to compromise you:

1. For mere verbal sport

2. For panhandling

3. For extortion

4. For robbery

5. For a race purging attack

Note that the most innocuous level on this escalating threat matrix is not worth your time, not a breath.

If it is not your duty as a law officer or employee, to speak with a strange low income black person in an urban environment, then realize that their every word is a threat. Any and all verbal actions on your part will make things worse. Silence and action are the only correct responses.

I think the girls above were just looking for #1, some fun at my expense. But if I let myself fall into the habit of speaking with the women of my enemies it will one day be used against me, and even if I manage to take down the two or three bruthas that will be summoned by some gutter siren, my troubles have just begun. For she was an impartial witness that saw me attack those men while screaming racial epitaphs.

When the best you can hope for is a bad outcome, why get involved in a situation?