American Multiculturalism & You

     I may have to stop listening to NPR. One Sunday they had a guest, I didn’t catch his name—Don something—who was asked if he believed America was a multicultural society. This clod replied in all seriousness, “No, I do not. “Imagine. he actually said that. The most frightening thing about this is that he probably believes that crock of shit. Since the Trump campaign kicked off in 015 there has been a terrifying rise in right-wing bigotry and fascism in this country’s discourse.

          Let me explain something, in as simple and with as cordial language as I am able: YOURE FUCKING NUTS.

          Point two: Fuck you. We’re not going back.

          You want to live in the 19^th Century under Biblical conditions, without electricity or public toilets, build a time machine. The rest of us are not going to tolerate a nation of stupidity and intolerance. Point of fact: white people were not here first. That honor goes to the Native Americans, to the native peoples of the Bahamas where Columbus landed. The Spanish began colonizing the Americas in the 15^th Century. In fact the first permanent Spanish city in the Western hemisphere, was established in Santo Domingo in the present-day Dominican Republic in 1496. Florida was claimed as a Spanish colony by Juan Ponce de Leon in 1513; Hernando de Soto discovered the Mississippi in 1541.

           Put into perspective, the first English settlement in North America, Jamestown, was not established until 1607. Latinos were here and had a healthy population and culture well before the Great Land Grab of 1846—oops, I mean the Mexican War, which was preceded by the original American land grab in the so-called Texas War of Independence in 1836. California, New Mexico, Arizona were wrongly seized as part of the war’s aims, basically taken under the terms of 1848’s Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, and under the policy of Manifest Destiny. Or, the Law of Conquest. Does no one realize how much this bears shades of Nazism?

          And to all those who complain about the rights justly claimed by African Americans, which rights are guaranteed by original Constitutional law and subsequent amendments, to all you sickies who shouted, “Kill that nigger!” at Trump rallies in 2016…just remember, YOU brought them over here.

          You kidnapped them from their African homes, drowned them in the sea and seeded them all across the Caribbean and the Southern Atlantic coast of America. Did you seriously think they would give up their culture in order to adopt that of their oppressors? Recall this, you white people did not HAVE A CULTURE of your own when you arrived on these shores. 

        So to all you deniers I say America is a polyglot of cultural influences, Native American, African, Latino, Asian, Germanic& French and every other immigrant soul that has blessed our soil. As much as I’d love to tell you what you can do with yourselves, today I’ll settle for this. If you deny that America is a multicultural nation, then I’m afraid you’re an imbecile, and not a very well-educated one at that. You’re probably the same sort of boob who believes the Bible is true history and the Earth is only 6,000 years old or less. Literally descended from apes? Yeah, I can believe that, but I wouldn’t want to insult our primate cousins.

Addendum 'Sunday Bloody Sunday"

Did I say Yoko Ono sounded serene in my last post? I may have exaggerated.

It's true Yoko did a splendid job on 'Angela' & 'Born in a Prison'.  However, when you set the needle on the aforementioned 'Sunday Bloody Sunday' as well as the LP's closing track, 'We're All Water', she's back to her old screeching tricks. And this goes on for over seven frikkin' minutes. Sorry.

'Sunday Bloody Sunday'

There are actually two versions of this song that I know, the first of course being John Lennon's from his Sometime in New York City album from 1973. I may have been the only person at the time who loved that LP, possibly because I was a nine-year-old kid who was totally divorced from the events under protest on that album.

Here's the thing with John Lennon: you don't want to piss him off, 'cause he will write a song about you. Taylor Swift? pfft! John is the archetype, the man who will crucify you in song. Just listen to "Gimme Some Truth". Unfortunately "Sunday Bloody Sunday" got lost in the melange that was this album. That was too bad 'cause it was the best song, hard, biting with the full power of the Plastic Ono Band at his back and a merciless solo bridging the choruses.

Curiously this was also the first LP where Yoko sounded fabulous. Where John was angry, Yoko was lyrical, more serene, which made her political sentiments more effective. One could say the student had exceeded the master.

Count ahead ten years. I barely knew U2; most of us didn't in 1983. What'd they have on MTV back then, like three videos? With the concert at Red Rock, Colorado, they became flesh, four passionate young men ready to storm the world. I believe that was the point of the concert, to make the world aware of them. It worked for me, they never left my sight after that. Especially after they performed "Sunday Bloody Sunday", their own version.

That was the first time i fell in love with that song, with Bono stomping the beat, waving that white flag while the Edge cranked out the riff. reminding us that we need to stop this, just stop it:

"How long, how long must we sing this song?
"Tonight, we can be as one, tonight..."

And just when you thought the song was over, they bring it back full force for one last refrain.

"Sunday Bloody Sunday' never gets old, and maybe that's the problem. This whole generation of vipers, all those old geezers are leading us into new wars, new acts of terrorism. They keep promoting the wrong ideas, the same outdated group-thinking that if you bomb the blazes out of people, the enemy is going to surrender. Either that or you'll pound the people around them into annihilation. Look at the Middle East; all that's accomplished is making another generation that's going to grow up hating us, with good reason.

What we need is what we haven't got, a President who's willing to stand up, who has the moral courage to tell us, "Stop it stop it just #@*&^%$# stop it! We're not Neanderthals, We don't need to do this anymore. We're not going to accomplish anything with a military solution. We're not going to win if we keep killing each other."

I am not your associate

associate

a person with subordinate membership in a society, institution, or commercial enterprise

Source: https://www.vocabulary.com/dictionary/associate

     I’m seeing this everywhere now, hearing it every single day over the ‘Interstore Audio monopolized Network’ broadcasting in every supermarket that I frequent. It started with Walmart of course, this referring to their grocery workers as ’associates.’     

     What the hell is that supposed to mean anyway, ‘associates’? That's the shit term Walmart uses to identify us.That is the word business people used to refer to  colleagues they know but who are not their friends. ‘Hello, this is Oswald, my associate. He will be breaking your kneecaps today’. 

     Words have power. There are many meanings attached to this word, but I think the one I've pasted at the top there best defines how our employers see us lowly minions today. By inference that implies we are really not part of the company; that we work here but we’re not part of the family, is that so?    

     That really burns me to hear that, every day. ‘Our meat associates would be proud to serve you’. Yes, except they’re not really one of us. What this says is that we're not as valuable to the Company as the CEOs sitting in their head offices. That our work doesn't matter when the reverse is true. Without us doing the grunt work, the Company would collapse into a disorderly mass. 

     I’m going to admit something right here; I’ve spent the last 19 years working in a supermarket, stocking the shelves and facing them to make them presentable in the morning so, when a customer comes into the store, it looks like a place where they might want to shop again. 

     I’m not doing this because the company appreciates it, oh no. Truth is as far as the company is concerned, whatever we do, however hard we work, it will never be enough. They will always want more. Which is fine; I’m not doing it for them. I’m doing it for the most selfish of reasons. Whatever I do on my job, it’s going to be something I’m proud to have my name on. Because I’ll tell you what, whenever they lay me off, and that’s a given, the only thing I’ll take away from that job will be the reputation I’ve built over the last 19 years.         

     I’ll tell you something else. I am not a goddamn ‘associate’. I will never be an associate. I’ve worked my ass off at my job. I’ve been un-fuck-up-isizing my workplace since the day I walked in the door. I’m a laborer, a night shift worker. I have been a member of my company’s so-called family for 19 years and I categorically refuse to be patronized or belittled in that manner. 

     And you can bet your corporate out-of-touch ass that I will see that put in writing when the next contract comes up. I will see it written in stone that we are not simply ‘associates’ of the company. 

Novel excerpt: My Name is Scout

Novel Excerpt:
MY NAME IS SCOUT

     Context: The cult known as the Children of Sydelle have kidnapped the mother of Youssou Hadebe. To effect her rescue, Magistrate Jomoro al-Amain has called in an elite fighting force, the Rangers. Youssou meanwhile has persuaded Jomoro to release Jamai Dlamini from an unjust prison sentence for the duration of the operation. She has come to a point where she has won the Rangers’ respect, enough to have earned a nickname…
     Narrated by Youssou:

     The Rangers seemed to have a penchant for enclosed spaces. We congregated in the command tent, what Cobalt’s men referred to as the Eagle’s Den, no doubt because of the eagle-head on the flagpole hoisted behind us. Cobalt stood at the head of a map table which took up most of the available space of a rather sizeable tent. As before the participants in this particular briefing we all wedged ourselves around the table.
     “Now that we have our guide we can get started,” Cobalt began. With his swivel stick he tapped at different grid sections that divided the relief map. “We’re going to divide into four squads of 24 men each. You will each be assigned a grid with sniffer drones.
     “These drones will be enabled to spit additional mini-drones--gnats, essentially--which will explore each abandoned facility. No doubt the enemy will mistake these minis for fleas or some other pest. These will be exploratory missions. Do not attack unless you have a reasonable chance of success. Our objective is to locate the enemy, assess and report back.
     “Bear in mind this is a process of elimination. There are 1,500 monasteries and churches spread over a thousand kilometers in Gondar and the Simien Mountains. Some of these churches are still active, some have been abandoned, and one of them might be the one where our enemy is squatting. We’re going to sort the good ones from the bad, starting with what we assume are abandoned sites.
     “It is probable we may encounter bands of shiftas on our patrols. Should you do so, douse them with anesthetic gas. We’ll see whether Intel Section can squeeze any actionable intelligence out of them. Corpsman will distribute filter masks and remote-control leash pods for each sniffer.
     “One more thing. There was an innocent woman taken by these devils. Our primary objective is her safe recovery. Now then, any questions?”
     Beside me at the far end of the table, Jamai’s hand hesitantly went up. “Why do they call him ‘Corpsman’? Doesn’t he have a name?”
     “Umm, that is my name,” he replied in a soft almost effeminate voice.
     “That’s what they call you?” Jamai asked.
     The man offered a thin shrug. “Exactly. They always call ‘hai, Corpsman’. It suits me, so it’s kind of stuck.”
     “Huh. It’s a lucky thing I won’t be here long enough for you gentleman to slap a designation on me!” As she was saying this, Cobalt paused in his habitual rapping of his swivel stick on his thigh. He tried to shuffle to one side as his eyes rolled.
     I unfortunately was not as quick. She suddenly found herself in a sea of abashed faces. “Don’t tell me it’s the same thing Sydelle’s idiots call me,” she groaned.
     “There was a vote,” Cobalt responded. “It was precisely because the enemy gave you that label that it was a non-starter. Given the choice between ‘Pythoness’ and ‘Scout’, the majority voted for the latter.”
     It was a quick briefing. Cobalt suggested we all get a good night’s rest; tomorrow would be a good day for hunting. Once in our tent, Jamai commented, “It’s a good thing they hadn’t decided to give you a name, rafiki…oh no. What is it?”
     “’Angry Scowl’,” I said and rolled over.

Sample, 'Points of Reference'

“Colonel, what happened to the Naga Sentry?”       

He wouldn’t, or couldn’t look at me. He kept his eyes on the double vault of airlock doors ahead of us. There were guys in spacesuits a lot like my skinsuit, but with helmets, preparing a spacepod just for me.    

“Your parents were good people. All of the people on that ship were good people. I couldn’t stand the sight of that thing. I had orders to bring it in to port. I was commanding a brig carrying it in our cargo hold. When we passed behind the star to make  a standard orbital approach, I flushed it into Alexis’ photosphere.”             

I nodded. “Good.”       

“You’ve never talked about the seven months you spent as a Loner on that ship.”       “

Why would I want to?”          

I shut my eyes tight. Just like that a flash of memory returned, as real as when it happened. My father standing over my mother’s body, staring at his hands. His running screaming into the calesthetics ring between sleep pods until another crazy passenger shivved him.        

Me, seven years old, wheeling my parents’ bodies on their own sleep cot to the science lab freezer where we stored cellular samples for seeding on A-Seven. I secured them on their mat, spooning them together in death as they’d been in life, before this fucking voyage began. Then I shut the freezer door.      

“It’s ready,” the Colonel grunted. “How about you?”               

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

[a very short chapter for a story using my DeviantArt character Lianna]

Enjoy.

www.mike3839.deviantart.com

This Should Come as a Surprise to No One: The Female Doctor

Remember when Lenny Henry became the Doctor? He was a black man, a comedienne who for one glorious, brief, hilarious sketch became the universe’s most famous Time Lord. Nobody whined about that. Well, I suppose it might have had a little to do with the fact that he wasn’t really the Doctor. It wasn’t CANON!!! The BBC gave Colin Baker the year off, and Lenny Henry stepped up. But, he could have been, and I would have been happy with it.

             I would love to have seen him do more as the Doctor. Alas, I knew this skit only as an extra included on the Comic Relief VHS, “The Curse of Fatal Death”, which to be honest was the best Doctor Who program we were given in 20 years. Sure it was; it was written by Steven Moffat, wasn’t it? That was his first foray into the world of Who, and what a debut.

            So, sorry, Thick-Of-Skull here, not getting why y’all getting so uppity because the new Doctor is (gasp) a--A WOMAN! AAAAUUUGHHH!

            Yeh. Calm down and let ‘em regenerate.

13th Doctor Jodie Whittaker

            Why are you so surprised at this? You didn’t care when the General (Ken Bones) , the old British white guy, regenerated into T'nia Miller—a BLACK, BRITISH woman. EEEKKK! And oh man, was she relieved to be a woman again! You got down with that, but you object to the Doctor we know changing gender?

            This is not a PC plot, so you can yank that stick out from up your proper white male ass. This is not a surprise. They’ve been hinting at it for 41 years, ever since the newborn Eldrad made that throw-away line in “The Hand of Fear”: “Oh come, Doctor, you sound like Professor Watson. As a Time Lord you should be well acquainted with the process of regeneration.”

            Yeh, that was waaaay back in Tom Baker’s era. And every single time since then when it was announced that a new actor would be taking the role, the fans started clamoring for a woman Doctor. I’m excited for this. I can’t wait for 13 to get snarky with Davros, or Missy, or the Cybermen. You know what, screw all you white dudes and you PC paranoia. I’m setting my gear up for Season 11.

http://www.doctorwhonews.net/2017/07/bbc-responds-to-complaints-about-casting.html

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GPbiGb_JVLI

"Adorable moment young girl reacts to new Doctor Who announcment"