Orgasmic Blacks

Black folks intrigue me!

I have always been a little bit curious about blacks who are in need of a “feeling.”

Two days from now we will embark on another pivotal election. In order to entice black folks to vote, the intellectual elite, plantation owners, Uncle Toms, and Aunt Jemimas will crossover into the ‘hood and bring their Election Day goodies.

Just like a Juneteenth celebration, from one parking lot to another, fried chicken, grilled bar-b-que and hamburgers, along with pitchers of Kool-Aid, and pound cake will be dispensed with the sole purpose of “firing blacks up into a frenzy” so that they will march to the polls and vote as instructed!

Pathetically, after the climax, blacks will return to their same predictable state of non-political involvement until the next orgasm is required!

When Trayvon Martin was slaughtered by an over zealous thug, black folks were enraged—-rightly so. From one street corner to the next, black folks’ feelings simmered and then erupted at crescendo levels as they expressed their outrage about the mishandling of his murder—-rightly so.

Climactically speaking, however, the same hailstorm that was expressed for Trayvon isn’t equally expressed for every murdered black boy and for every murdered black man!

For the umpteenth time, black males senselessly and brutally massacre each other every day. What’s good for Trayvon Martin should be good enough for someone else’s child. Where are the daily marches, the daily prayer vigils, the daily indignations, the daily outcries, the daily inquiries, the daily protestations for accountability, and other outwardly expressed commotions for this horrific black genocide to end?

Need another orgasm!

Attended a “free” business seminar whereby representatives from the local, state, and federal government distributed a plethora of advice, tips, and information on how to start your own businesses. Packed like sardines in a can were throngs of eager and aspiring white, Asian, and Latino entrepreneurs who were desirous of becoming the next Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerman, or Tyra Banks.

Missing from the crowd were black pharmaceutical representatives aka black drug sellers and black drug dealers. Intellectually, one would think that criminals would want to hang up their illicit career of drug trafficking and avoid the undue hardships and work conditions affiliated with their industry thus avoiding the constant threats of being arrested, imprisoned, or killed in favor of crossing over to the “land of milk and honey” called the American dream of ownership!

Where’s my sexual healing!

The “I’ve done so much, with so little for so long, that I can do anything with nothing” syndrome and mantra transcends any ethnic group and race.

It is inexcusable for newly arrived immigrants to America to become owners of shopping centers, restaurants, hotels, gas stations, and homes within 18 months of their arrival while black folks who have been here for centuries wallow in self-pity, spew mumbo gumbo, and sit and wait for the next climax!

Get off your rusty dusty aka a** and make each day a meaningful and profitable day! Stop looking for “roadside assistance.” Reclaim your can-do and take-charge attitudes and spirits. Become your own cavalry. Stop being a statistic. Stop waiting for luck.

Truth be told, we need more than an orgasmic feeling.

We need black folks to believe that they can go from the infatuation phase of an emotional high and wild passion to the permanence of a more sustained reality——jobs, education, and a chicken in their own pots!

That’s a climax worth waiting for!