Eyes on the fries
As mercenary as this may appear, I’m hoping for a Somewhat Sketchy Civil Rights Milestone to erupt here in L.A. so I can strike a blow against injustice and police brutality by snatching a brand-new HDTV. There’s a 75-inch Samsung in a strip-mall storefront a half-mile away just SCREAMING to be liberated.
Maybe, while speaking truth to The Man, I can boost a trailer hitch and haul a washer/dryer out of some capitalist-exploitation cesspit like Sears or Walmart.
We haven’t been given opportunity for shackle-free liberation activism – bash mob, style – as have our brothers and sisters in Ferguson, MO, all this tiresome, oh-so-familiar week. …But! We CAN order home-delivery alcohol served up by panty skanks beginning tonight. If ever there was red-carpet invitation to gang-bang, it’s this brainstorm.
At any rate, looks like tearful candlelight and home-appliance acquisition has petered out in the 70-percent-black Missouri town. After a few too many nights of riot and looting, we have THE windup phrase puked up everytime one of these “outbursts” runs its course. Prize goes to SFGate for headline that violence in the town has “given way to hope.” A lot of hope has given way over the past 50 years of involuntary merchant giveaways, although it always seems to evaporate as enthusiasm gives way to reality and government cheese.
“All they did was look at us and shoot tear gas,” said Pedro Smith, 41, who has participated in the nightly protests. “This is totally different. Now we’re being treated with respect.” The more tolerant response came as President Barack Obama spoke publicly for the first time about Saturday’s fatal shooting — and the subsequent violence that shocked the nation and threatened to tear apart Ferguson, a town of 21,000 that is nearly 70 percent black and patrolled by a nearly all-white police force.
Couple of things here: Much of this “peace” was due to throngs of paramilitary police in combat gear patrolling the streets. And “shocked the nation”? Really? Like… shocked who? Titty-baby Millennials too young to remember Watts, Detroit, Newark, or even the Rodney King hootenanny in South Central? Depending on your source, either 58 or 63 people died in that little 1992 squabble; eleven of them were white, none killed by police or national guard, and some in circumstances that only can be called lynching. Since the Riot Age really began here, when Watts burned in 1965, you can forgive white Angelenos for being less-than-sanguine about anything, anywhere, for anyone “giving way to hope”.
Ferguson’s death toll is… one. That fatality was the young man whose shooting by police last weekend sparked this latest conflagration in our perennially kerosene-soaked social compact.
But you’d never know that reading media reports. Amid the low-intensity “violence”, seems reporters were among put-upon victims of the town’s rampaging police. No blood, you understand, but a lot of upset feelings and dire foreshadowing of honky Nazis violating space of inviolate little East Coast crybabies. Crisis virgins, evidently.
During this time, we asked the officers for badge numbers. We asked to speak to a supervising officer. We asked why we were being detained. We were told: trespassing in a McDonald’s. “I hope you’re happy with yourself,” one officer told me. And I responded: “This story’s going to get out there. It’s going to be on the front page of The Washington Post tomorrow.” And he said, “Yeah, well, you’re going to be in my jail cell tonight”
… We were in there for what felt like 10 or 15 minutes. Then the processing officer came in. “Who’s media?” he asked. We said we were. And the officer said we were both free to go.
Holy gee to beezuz! Not exactly rubber-hose treatment, but WP reporter Wesley Lowery, who appears in his own account to have gone many extra miles to get himself busted, was brutalized – BRUTALIZED – by officers who “slammed me into a soda machine, at one point setting off the Coke dispenser.” What? No Dr. Pepper?
Here, in all its fading glory, is super-sized outrage we’ve come to expect from punk media. Note compelling courage outstripping even that of a wino taking a shit on the sidewalk. Seeping through Lowery’s account are indications of typical Jewboy contempt and suspicion of ANYTHING middle-American white gentile. We feel his frustration at trying to puff this into even puny pogrom. Cossacks!
The Narrative that supports this carved-in-stone cliche – that minorities are forever-innocent victims of our fascist police forces – has been constant since the ’60s. Its saggy fraudulence now is apparent to anyone whose useful idiocy has eroded with age. For Alternet, one of a very few barricades still manned by our dental-plan Left, this is still about cop “occupation” of po’ li’l Ferguson, a weary, blown-tire stopover just outside St. Louis. Police have been ‘occupying’ po’ li’l black communities like this sump pit since Bernardine Dohrn bought her first panty rag. Frankly, I’d rather be occupied by tax-paid, armed bureaucrats than the kind of jovial youth lionized in hard rap. That’s another ‘gift’ from media, entertainment, this time: Chimp-chants to cheer on drive-by performance artists and crack whores.
Wonder what the upshot of this latest “insurrection” will bring. The grieving freedom shoppers have the President on their side, after all; Attorney General Eric Holder has loosed dogs of the FBI on the Ferguson PD. We can expect sugar-tit programs, hot air, and at university-level, more junk-bond “ethnic studies” departments to churn out self-aggrandized losers specializing in absolutely nothing of value to this plane of reality.
But that’s part of the racket: “If you don’t give us some shit, we riot.” This is today’s equivalent of ancient Rome buying off barbarians to keep them on yonder side of the gate.
Media serves up this slop as guilt-trip bible for shrinking audiences of white folk, though. Maybe it’s Carlos Slim’s baleful influence as minority (so to speak) but potent stockholder at the New York Times. As his native Mexico trails us in social carnival, so the new Times braintrust lags in trustworthy brains. The Eastern Establishment just doesn’t seem to get it. We’re not there, anymore. All the fabricated slave movies and exaggerated persecution in the world won’t put that Humpty together again. Self-flagellation is so 50 trillion minutes ago.
But the clatter goes on. All choice buzz phrases are trotted out again to “give way” with whatever is healing. The missing stereos and TV dinners “highlight America’s racial divide”. “A community is in anguish” to point only a brand-new pair of overpriced Nikes lend balm. But soon, we know everyone will “come together”, intimating that all this is, indeed, one big circle-jerk. Even among my most sanctimonious, clueless FaceBook entourage, there’s been little about this sad escapade. One disciple pouted, “What are we going to do about this, people?” and got not comment one.
We ain’t gonna do shit about it, honey. And neither are our skateboard cadres.