[Editor’s Note: I’m off and running to a few doctor appointments today. In the mean time, check out the following guest post from my man “Carey Carey” of the blog Carry Me Home. So show him some love.]
Shout out to all the hypocritical Negroes who complain about BET being an embarrassment to Black America, but still patronize the network. Bonus shout out to the fellas who dial those sex lines featuring white chicks advertised on BET. Yep, diversity is a good thing, son.
But check this, since my daddy said, “don’t be nobodies fool”, I am going to take his advise, so for this post I am going to change the skin color of my target audience. Are you kidding me, although a few black women (and men) could fit these shoes, I am not ready for another ass kicking. So today, it’s White Folks, Politics, Drugs and Zip Fools, because they all have something in common.
Let me start by saying I am leery of white people, okay. Now don’t take that wrong. I was raised around white folk (I was born in Iowa), and I am not a racist by any stretch of imagination. Wait, does that have the same feeling/flavor/sting as a white person saying “I have black friends’? Well, all the King’s horses and all the King’s friends couldn’t put Humpty Dumpy back together again. Yeah, figure out how that relates to anything I’ve said. Nevertheless, I am gonna say it, I have white friends – not many – but I do.
But listen, I hate white people. Yup, I said it. I really hate them. They are ugly, stupid and obnoxious. And they are a bunch of narrow minded privileged bigots. I see white people as a scourge that needs to be eliminated from the world. You are sitting there thinking “damn this motherfucker is crazy”, aren’t you? Well, therein lies the problem. Because you know what? Most of my opinions are really on point and need to be said. Only problem is, coming from my mouth they tend to lose legitimacy. I am a black man, but hold that thought.
Well, I have to raise my hand. I was a heroin addict for over twenty five years. Since the age of 17, I loved the comfort heroin gave me, however, back then, if you would have asked me if I was an addict, I would have told you hell no. How could I be an addict? I had a college degree, a six figure job, a family and a nice home. That’s certainly not the stereotypical image of an addict. Yet, every day of my life, some years ago, I was flying high in the sky, flying high without ever leavin’ the ground. I went to the places where danger awaited me and it was bound to forsake me, but I was so stupid minded. I couldn’t help it, I was stupid minded, and I’d go crazy when I couldn’t find it. In the mornings I’d be alright, but soon the night brought all the pains, the pain, oh the pain! Yet I’d go to the places where the good feelin’ awaited me, self-destruction was in my hand, Oh Lord, so stupid minded. I was hooked to that boy who makes slaves out of men and I’d go crazy when I couldn’t find it. Believe me, I was flying high without ever leaving the ground and I didn’t see nothing but trouble. I had to cry out, “help me somebody”.
Damn, yawl gonna have me crying up in here thinking about those days. And check this, many of you may have noticed that many of those words were from Marvin Gaye’s song “Flying High”. Many of those words were his, and I’ve cried while reading them because I fought those exact same demons. And, he didn’t win his battle.
Okay, this pie is about ready to put in the fiery oven. We have white folks, drugs and a fool, so now we need a cup of politics, and then it’s patty cake patty cake, baker man, I’m gonna spank this thang with a very heavy hand.
As political debates go, the lines of opposition are frequently drawn deep in the sand. Each side digs in, gets very entranced in their positions, and then, nobody budges. And again, my daddy told me not to be anybodies fool and don’t play another man’s game, so taking his advice, I generally do not get too involved in the tick-tack-patty-wack of politics. But sometimes I’ll listen on the sidelines and add a little commentary on the ongoing affairs. So, in short, I don’t do politics, I do people. But birds of a feather flock together and why do fools fall in love?
Remember when I said I have a few white friends? Well, over the last year, over at my favorite political blog “We Are Respectable Negroes” I had been noticing the comments of this one white guy, they were quite different than most political debaters. His had a ring of openness and honesty that I’ve seldom seen in most political discussions. It was obvious to me that the man had a wealth of wisdom, and an education. I asked myself, “who is this white guy that’s not afraid to call a spade a spade, and bigoted dumb white folks… bigoted, racist ass dumb white folks?” Now you know, and he must obviously know, that his penchant for holding up a mirror to some of our evil white brothers, could get a white man barred from the shores of America. But Fred is not alone.
Remember my paragraph that opened with “But Listen, I hate white people“? Well. actually, those are not my words, they belong to Joanna, who just happens to be a white woman. DAMN, she was raining blows on white folks and her skin is like soft fallen snow. Wait, I don’t know if she’s soft but I know she’s white. She seems to have acquired the honesty and lack of fear to speak about the evil ways of some white folks.
Joanna asked if I’d consider doing a quest post on “addictions”. See, about a year ago she dropped by my blog and witnessed some of my trials and tribulations; many of which concerned my drug habit and the consequences of such. I even sent her a copy of one of my speaking engagements. She apparently wanted to see if I was Memorex or just talking shit. Well, here I am, she has invited my in her house.
So now I have to bring this home by first mentioning a few words of my daughter. She has a saying: “ show me a 4-10 year old jerk – child, and I’ll show you an adult asshole”. Now, you know what, think about that for a few seconds. Take a little time to drift back in your memory. Think about those kids in you classroom who were sleep, jacking around and were just being a damn nuisance. They usually could be found in the back two rows of the classroom, talking about sh*t and doing shit other than the prescribed school activities. They certainly wasn’t trying to learn anything. Where are they now? Well, I’d bet my last ham hocks (I love ham hocks) that they’re still jerks, lost in space, or are in jail, an institution, or they’re dead.
But listen, I’ve come to believe an apple does not fall far from the tree, so the bulk of the blame does not fall at their feet. In walks the white racist, the bigot, and fools that fall in love with whomever and whatever. Now hold on tight, fasten your seat belts because I am about to make a quick lef
t turn. I am going to drive by the house of a white fool. He lives at the intersection of Ignorance Avenue and Pessimist Lane. We’ll be looking for a person that knows no sorrow. By definition he will be careless, callous, indifferent and never broken up or softened by conviction or sorrow for wrong doing. He hates knowledge and resist instruction. He and she will not be hard to spot because again, by definition of the word fool, they despise wisdom and are closed minded. The biggest fools are deficient in judgment, sense, or understanding. They are easily deceived or duped and willingly engages in buffoonery and trifling activity. Damn, I better turn this car around, I am wasting gas. There’s a white racist fool on every corner.
Look, we may not be who we think we are, nor want to be, but wisdom is learned by going through a storm, not by listening to popular opinions or by living in the realm of a false self-image. I, by the definition of the word “addict”, and my actions, was a full blown addict. When I accepted that cold hard fact, it behooved me to take the responsibilities that would lead me out of my dark abyss. I had to admit to myself that I was a damn fool who wasn’t fooling anyone except myself. Now that was a hard pill to swallow. It wasn’t the shoes, it was me. It certainly wasn’t white folks, it was me. My lady, friends and family didn’t put drugs in my system, it was me, I was the gatekeeper. I was the biggest fool around, but what about a time called now? That’s my motto, “What About A Time Called Now?”. When in our life do we make a decision to really change? Is it when are backs are against a wall of no return? Is it when we become seriously ill with some disease that John Hopkins can’t cure?
Why should we expect white folks to change? Their momma was a racist and their daddy was too, and they fell from that tree. The Tea Party, and all that flock, love flocking together. They’re obviously not looking for wisdom and they love engaging in buffoonery and trifling activity, so why should they consider changing? They’re not going to be denied the basic rights afforded all Americans because of the color of their skin. And please, talking about a dark pit of lost hopes and no return, what kind of special kind of white racist would raise their hands for that Black Bozo The Clown, Herman Cain?
Damn, drugs, white folks, fools and politics, there is a distinct connection. Some white folks exhibit the exact characteristics of a pimp or die, stomp down drug addict **whispering** “so do many black folks“. Just like drug addicts and alcoholics, they love what they do and they have no apparent reason to change. They would cut off the nose in spite of the face and sell their wife’s pomtang before they’d give a black man an even playing field. All their friends are doing “it” , so those birds are going to flock together. When they drink their hate and racist juice, it makes them feel powerful and in control, and to a large degree they are, so why should they change?
This is not an indictment of all white people. It’s an observation of the evil intrinsic nature of all humans. We all can be duped and led astray. Hey, as I said, I have a few white friends.
Damn it, I was suppose to write a post on addictions. You know, like drug and alcohol abuse and related treatments, but I got side tracked. Well, maybe not side-tracked but I don’t know how much truth a person can handle in one day. See, Joanne has a link on her blog, one of those paid links “Drug Abuse Centers”. Well, I have to say this. Treatment centers are one of the biggest pimp games in town. They are a dismal failure. Hey, I am talking about something I know. As a patient, I found myself in one the most respected treatment centers in the world, Hazelton. And, I’ve worked in treatment centers. Oh yeah, and look, the average numbers of “treatments” before a person gets a tiny whiff of a sustained recovery is 4.5 times, in and out those doors. It’s called “treatment”, not a cure.
If one keeps going back for treatment, somebody keeps getting paid. Now hold up, the average cost is thirty to fifty thousand dollars! And guess who owns and runs those facilities, white folks! Oh yeah, there’s a whole lot of pimping going on and unfortunately they are the only game in town. But I didn’t have time to tell you all the maddening news. But maybe if I am invited back, we can get down to all the sickening details. Recovery is possible but the overwhelming majority of people who find themselves battling a substance abuse problem, never make it to the other side. Don’t look now but the numbers are less than two percent. That’s a cold hard fact, and I’d like to tell you why that’s true.