By Ken Gibson
Some eighty cops have been injured; one is now a paraplegic.
David Dorn, a black grandfather, lies cold in earth, along with two other policemen as a result of this uprising in the US.
The late David Dorn
Those who escaped bodily harm have had to face constant intimidation from spoiled brats. Not that all cops are angels, certainly not the ones who took a knee to the neck of George Floyd, and perhaps not the ones in Atlanta who shot dead a man they were arresting.
But cops are not devils. They are human. And they get fed up. So fed up that on the Fourth of July they may take a break.
Hopefully not all over the US, but at least in Gotham.
Imagine. Imagine all the people, with no cops to protect them. What will happen?
It might not be good. Already the word is out that if you want a pair of Air Jordans or a new Rolex, protest for social justice and these trinkets are yours. Nothing is free unless you steal it. And free is the right price.
So lots of things may fly off the shelves at that discounted price on the Fourth of July. A firecracker sale.
Some things might not just fly off shelves, they might fly off of wrists and necks. New watch? Gold chain? Catch the sale in New York. And if you are a victim of the sale, call 911 and get put on hold.
This could be the new reality. Or it could turn out that the people of the city, tired of having spoiled brats take advantage of the events of the day, will police themselves. Street justice may be doled out, with thugs calling 911 crying for protection. Such an irony as been known to exist. People will be laughing as creeps will be getting put on hold. Revenge served cold.
And cold is the reality unfolding before our eyes. The US is a tinderbox; it reminds me of a fav Elton song circa 2007, titled Tinderbox. The chorus chimes out as follows:
We’ve been living in a tinderbox
And two sparks can set the whole thing off
Rubbing up together around the clock
Lately we’ve been getting more roll than rock
You and me together in a tinderbox
Two sparks can set the whole thing off
Rubbing up together around the clock
Lately we’ve been getting more roll than rock
You and me together in a tinderbox
Months back no one thought this would be relevant to the US. But two sparks have set the whole thing off. Gun sales are up 400%, most are stockpiling food, and radio shows in the ghettos talk about revolution.
A friend called last night to compare the situation to Rwanda in 1994.
Hutus vs Tutsis. 500,000 or more killed. Simmering tensions came to a boil in an African tinderbox.
America, 2020. What will happen?
The analogy to Rwanda works well in some ways, but of course there are differences. For one thing, the revolution would only be urban here.
Farmers are not going to be slaughtered like pigs.
But slaughtered pigs might not make it to the markets in big cities, truckers would not want to risk their lives to eke out a living, and there is talk that large transport unions are behind calling a wildcat strike to teach the urban dwellers a lesson should the urbanites decide to teach everyone else a lesson.
Starvation is a lesson. I suspect that it might be enough to even teach antifa. Give people a choice. Viva democracy. Let them vote: antifa or food. Methinks they will protest no more.
Food is a lot better choice than a bunch of spoiled brat white kids, some of whom spy on black sites but that is another story, to be told here in an upcoming article.
Nipsey Russell
Nipsey Russell used to poke gentle fun at revolutions. He knew whereof he spoke; before his days of fame he used to open for Malcolm X on the streets of Harlem. And GOP member MLK was a pal. Nipsey implied once that revolutions only last as long as they are funded.
He was all for black lives; after all, he was black. And he did more for his people than any internet funded quasi terrorist group ever did. He helped many get into show biz, coaching Harry Belafonte and showing Michael Jackson how to read his lines in the WIZ.
Nipsey’s speech was clean, unlike Redd Fox whom he also knew well. But one word Nipsey used was one of the worst four letter words known to man. And while Frank is here trying to scrub the bathroom walls of many four letter words, I am ready to use one here that will offend many.
WORK. Nipsey Russell was for work. Work got him promoted to officer in the US Army in WWII, it got him to the attention of Ed Sullivan, it got him gigs at the top clubs in Harlem, it got him top billing in the WIZ.
And work is what will make things better in this country. If racism is keeping people from this cure, then racism has to be faced. Jobs must be made available to the willing, no matter what their race.
But to the lazy, the unwilling, whether they be white trust fund brats who burn and loot shops or minorities who do the same, a job is not the cure. Work must be embraced, skills must be learned. Idle hands do no such thing, and idle minds are what? Satan’s workshop.
Satan’s tools are destroying the nation we live in. I see it everywhere. Well, almost everywhere.
Not where I work though.
Work is like a haven. Common sense rules, with Blacks, Latins, Asians and Whites getting jobs done. Mental and physical work not only put $ in our pockets, but put in motion many intangible properties that keep us out of the path of destruction.
And work is part of the healing. Let all those who are qualified work, and MAKE those who are moochers work to get benefits. Few countries give lazy brats any $ whatsoever. Some countries openly mock this style of living, and even in the liberal streets of Gotham derision is expressed towards these low lowlifes.
I recall one day that a couple of 20-somethings sat in their dirty jeans downtown with a cup – two white kids who looked like they had just dropped out of college. And a black woman took one look at this hapless pair and told them to go back to their suburbs and get jobs.
One would hope they did just that. But I rather suspect that these same two are out and about wrecking havoc, funded by the taxpayer.
Until we take satan’s tools away, i.e. idle hands, satan will be working. And if this mess continues, he may be the only one working. No cops, no truckers. Welcome to Rwanda.
