Tales From The Fragile Balancing Act

In America, this time of year, we celebrate our freedom. We beach, we barbecue, and picnic. We head to ball games. We gaze at sunsets and at awesome firework displays. In recent years, we also view grainy videos of Black Americans being murdered by those sworn to protect and serve before immediately (reflexively) describing all the ways the victim could have, should have, avoided this end. We've agreed that selling both "loosies," and CDs,  playing with a toy gun in a public park or at a public Wal Mart , reaching for a wallet, driving with a broken tail light, refusing to extinguish a cigarette in one's own car, and simply walking on a sidewalk while Black... we've agreed that these are all prohibited activities punishable by death. This is America.   This is the freedom we celebrate. And This will never, ever change until we (White people) demand it so. Or at the very least, find it in ourselves to care. If we all actually started...

I’m hearing one thing being asked of us Over and over, loud and clear, and, truly,  it seems simple enough. Yes, this request I’ve been hearing Asks that we all, right now,  “Shut the fuck up!” It’s really weird you can’t hear this  your words sound like you wish to know as you ask questions upon questions on and on to no end But stranger still, you immediately provide your own answers Without one hint of a pause between the two transforming question to rant Step One of hearing.... is shutting the fuck up! Can you imagine if Dirty Harry’s famous question-bit went: “Do you feel lucky, punk? Well do ya? Cause if you feel lucky it doesn’t make sense  to act like a savage a thug, running around with your thug friends Burning your own neighborhood, joining gangs, selling drugs How will this all end?  I mean, who even does that? Really?!” No. If you were in the theater watching this version Of the classic pre-curmudgeoney-...