The so-called black community is finally bemoaning the black-on-black slaughter [apparently marking the extended celebration of Freddie Gray's death] since the death of 29 year-old rapper Donte “G-Rock” Dixon at the close of July.
Last Sunday a youth councelor told me that the girl who was raped, tortured, murdered and burned in my neighborhood was at fault for her own death for associating with boys in a gang. It did not seem to occur to him that she most likely did not request death by vaginal impalement with a sharpened broomstick. There you go, according to a churchgoing family man, if a girl dates a criminal she deserves to be horribly murdered.
In any case, the only blacks that blacks seem to grant agency to remain victims—and Denzel Washington—with all other blacks in America faultless, with blame for their actions diverting by default to the black victim or faceless white daddy.
On the other hand, if I kill someone it is my fault. And these people do not realize that they are elevating me far above the moral plane upon which they place their own kind—except, of course for the victims of black-on-black murder, who magically become the moral equivalent of the Whiteman!
Well, when a black entertainer is killed people seem to wake up.
So far here is Baltimore’s eugenic homicide scorecard, with ties broken according to per capita ratio:
#5-August 1990: 42
#4-May 2015: 42
#3-December 1971: 44
#2-August 1972: 45
#1-July 2015: 45
Yo, I be kina OCD. So do yo think we could off 43 homeboys in August so that this makes a nice stair-step bar-graph for the print version?
