September 12, 2007

Eating Crow

Today we're not so prejudiced that we have water fountains labeled White and Colored. We allow "them" to sit at the lunch counter with "us." And still, it seems, "they" have the gall to complain.

Until you read about Jena, Louisiana, and the "white tree."

Now it's being called stealth racism because instead of being codified in Jim Crow laws, it's being played out "unofficially" ... it's not written down ... therefore it doesn't happen.

The problem with this theory often used by those trying to cover up their racist views is that it is written down. And, sadly, one of the best examples is from my own home state, although I'm told it's prevalent throughout the States.

The written record is in our legal system, but unlike the Jim Crow laws, these are "codified" in the way that we choose to pursue justice, who we sentence, and what sentence they receive. The bulk of crimes "deserving" the death penalty are sentences handed to black men. (Look at the race of those executed in Texas since the re-instatement of the death penalty.) Black violence to white = harsher punishment.

Another example? Look more closely at the Jena, Louisiana, issues. A black student "jokingly" asked if he could sit under the tree with the white students. You see, all of the white kids sat under the big tree, whilst the black kids sat on the bleachers. They weren't labeled White Tree and Black Bleachers. There was no law that said that. It was simply a case of everyone sticking to their own.

Except the tree was known around town as the white tree, when, in fact, the tree, like most trees, was brown. Now why could it be called the white tree? The principal told the kid he could sit wherever he liked ... but the next morning, 3 nooses were found hanging from the tree.

A schoolyard prank. It didn't mean anything.

Unless you've seen this. Unless you've lived it. Heard relatives telling the "story." And then, you can't help but be chilled by the threat. Can you take that risk? Can you really take that risk that it was just a joke?

The school recommended expulsion for the "pranksters" but the school board over-ruled them and decided a simple in-school suspension was plenty of punishment. No need to escalate things.

Except, of course, that that's exactly what happened. Things escalated as they have a tendency to do. Fights breaking out along racial lines, seeming to culminate with the burning of the main academic building of the school and the blaming of "Them" by "Us," with the definitions changing depending on which group a person was in.

But what has appeared to be a kind of proverbial "last straw" is the arrest of the so-called Jena Six.

One account includes one of the Jena Six attempting to go to a party and being turned away. And then, getting into a fight over the issue. The white man who instigated the violence was eventually charged with simple battery. The next day a white student argued with the black boys and ran to his pick-up truck for his pistol-grip shotgun. Reportedly Robert Bailey took the gun from the white boy and refused to give it back. (Personal aside ... given the situation, I can't say I'd want a pissed off white boy to have his damn shotgun back either!) Bailey was charged with theft of a firearm, second-degree robbery and disturbing the peace. The white boy? Not charged. Had he not brandished the firearm to start with ... but that seems to be beside the point.

The real culmination of this series of events came a few days later at school. Apparently one of the white boys, bragged how the black Bailey had been beaten up by a white man. Later that day, Justin Barker (the white boy) was jumped by the so-called Jena Six (including Robert Bailey). They did beat the crap out of Justin. He was knocked unconscious either by hitting the concrete or by being punched in the head ... but despite a short hospital observation (2 hours), he was released and went to the school's Ring Ceremony that evening.

The six boys were arrested originally for aggravated assault, which was later changed to attempted second degree and conspiracy to murder, not the simple assault/battery that it was. Later, one of the boys had his charge "reduced" to aggravated second degree battery. Sounds better right? That's a charge that requires the use of a "deadly weapon." Okay, so what'd the boy use? A pipe? A big length of thick branch?

His sneakers were dubbed deadly weapons.

The jury was all white.

The court-appointed attorney did not call a single witness to the stand.

It sounds like the days of Jim Crow, and I know every single blogger who has written about this has used the same phrase ... but yanno? It freaking fits ... and that terrifies me.

I'm not saying that the boys don't deserve some repercussions. But when I say that, I mean every single one of them. I mean the boys who put up the nooses. I mean the kids who started fights in the halls. I mean the children who called each other names. I mean the school board who eased the punishment of the noose-boys. I mean the people who burned down the school.

I mean the people who look at each other warily from across the street. Is that white dude going to start something?
Is that black girl going to start screaming at me?

I mean the white dude who decided to teach them uppity black boys a lesson at the party. I mean the boy who had to brandish his shotgun.

I mean all of us. These are the repercussions for our attitudes, for our distrust in those who seem different from us, for our certainty that "we" are good and "they" are wrong, whatever our definitions of we, they, good and wrong.

And there's a march scheduled now for the unfair way the justice system is choosing to pursue the problems in Jena.

It's a start. Trying to keep these issues at the forefront of people's minds. It reminds us not to be complacent. It reminds us to question our motives, not endlessly navel-gazing, but honestly attempting to look at what we do ... and what results those actions have.

Stealth racism. Jim Crow laws. Lynchings. Colored water fountains. Separate but equal.

Racial profiling. Fear of the different.

Fear.

I am chilled.

Jena 6
racism

Posted by Red Monkey at 1:18 AM | Comments (2) | Never Underestimate the Power of Human Stupidity | Struggles | Stumble

September 11, 2007

The Multi-Coloured Coat

I grew up in Texas in the 70s and 80s. I was in first grade during the time period that the movie Dazed and Confused covers. It was the age of Free to Be You and Me and, so far as a little kid could tell, the battle for civil rights was over. Blacks (no longer referred to as "them coloreds") were equal in the eyes of anyone. Martin Luther King, Jr. was a martyred hero who had, through that martyrdom, won.

Of course, I was completely wrong about much of that, but I thought that the time for marching not just for civil rights, but marching against hatred and prejudice, was over.

I was, of course, terribly naive. But what seven year old isn't? By the time I was 13, I realized that I had only been to school with one black child. And I began putting more details together. My mother locked her car doors if a black man was on a street corner. Regardless of what he was wearing/looked like. My father dropped the N-word in regard to Differen' Strokes (and yet he loved Sanford and Son). I still strongly suspect that he did at least a brief stint in the Klan. I was removed from one junior high school and placed in another ... purportedly because the second school had a higher level math class that I could take for only one semester out of the three I had left. In retrospect, this move feels much like my change of schools for second grade ... in junior high, I was fast becoming best friends with Paula. A black girl. In second grade, my teacher was black. And, worse, Austin was preparing to begin busing.

In both cases, my mother thought she was protecting me. She was in the very difficult position of having tried, by her own admission, to raise her children without prejudice ... and yet being unable to let go of those old habits herself. In talking to her about this later, she admitted that she was afraid that whatever the other results of busing, she just knew that if some of the kids (or even the adults) got into an argument, a fight ... that I would be right there in the thick of it, attempting to create peace. And probably getting hurt. Reflecting on who I was back then, I think she was probably correct. It wouldn't have mattered to me who had started it nor even, really, what it was about. I was outspoken about what I felt was right. If a white person picked on a black; or a black person picked on a white, I would have been defending the picked on and trying to make peace.

Even in the case of the junior high move, she had pointed out that some of the kids at the school might call me an N-lover for being friends with Paula. I snorted and said, "So? I don't care what people like that think." This time, she was even more wrong for moving me as there really wasn't that kind of racial tension in the school. I'm not saying that everything was always perfect between the white kids and the black kids ... but simply being friends with someone from the "opposite camp" was not really going to fuss anyone.

And then I began to open my eyes to the wider community, not just the small one that I inhabited. I saw incidences of prejudice in Texas, in the South. I fussed to myself. Why were people not doing something about this. I had announced in junior high that if there were civil rights marches, I would be there. Oh how that must have just terrified my mother.

I was discussing the issue of prejudice and violence in the south and in the north with someone last night and I said that I had seen more and worse events here in the North than I had ever seen in Texas. That's personally seen, not just read newspaper stories of. Although, come to think of it, I think I've seen more of that here in Indiana than I did in Texas as well.

Much of it here has revolved around how so much of the black community has been pushed into the worst areas of town. The gangs run rampant on that side of town. Here, two towns essentially run together and it can be very difficult to tell where South Bend ends and Mishawaka begins. And I can't count the number of times I have heard someone from Mishawaka say they could never live in South Bend ... because of the gangs ... because of the "black troubles."

I've observed black people being waited on last. I about got my head bit off for telling my waitress someone else was there first. And I got the same kind of service that the black family got for my trouble. A dear friend in grad school told how she and her husband were thrown out of Sears - for trying to get the repair center to honour their warranty. After less than 2 weeks, her new vacuum cleaner had broken. She took it in. Her husband waited, in the manner of most people ready to be done with a chore and off to the more interesting things of the day, slouched against a wall, waiting for her to be done.

The clerk told her nothing could be done. She produced receipt. She produced warranty. The clerk merely produced more anger. Finally, the clerk called security. Not to deal with my friend, who was a seriously PISSED off ex-drill sergeant by this point. No, to escort her husband out of the building and to ban him from Sears. For intimidating the clerk. You know, by freaking standing there.

There was the piling on of cops and pepperspray for the one black guy who tried to lift a pack of cigarettes. (Turns out he stole nothing. It was a mistake ....)

And my God, but the Klan is active here ... they terrify me and infuriate me all at once. My friends have tried on more than one occasion to make sure I am otherwise occupied when there's a rally in the area. (If for no other reason than they're tired of hearing me rant.)

So, today I know that my childhood belief that Martin Luther King, Jr. had won, is indeed not true. Some civil rights are more protected than they once were. But you can't legislate attitudes, and legally protecting things that simply should be ... creates equal and opposite pushes. Sometimes I think for every person like me who arises from that time period, we have ten who feel they were wronged by the legislation.

There are so very many ways that people can be different. And we as a society seem hell-bent on repeating the past. "The problem with the Irish immigrant is they are lazy, heathen, fighting is in their very physical make-up. They're little better than animals." Then it's the Italians. The Jews. The blacks. Gypsies. Them Mexicans. The queers are out to give us all AIDS. The Irish Travelers all abuse their kids. A perpetual game of Them vs. Us with constantly changing definitions of the tribes.

And God forbid you compare the plight of one group to another. The fight for civil rights by the queers is just nothing like the fight for black equality.

And I wonder whatever happened with Mostafa Tabatabainejad, the student at UCLA who was tased repeatedly for being different. (Okay, for not showing his ID the instant someone asked him for it.)

Of course, today we're not so blatant as we were "back then," right? We don't see White and Colored water fountains now.

(continued tomorrow)

Posted by Red Monkey at 9:49 AM | Comments (1) | Never Underestimate the Power of Human Stupidity | Struggles | Stumble

August 27, 2007

Do You See What I See?

... a star, a star, shining in the east ... blah blah blah. I suddenly forget the rest of the words anyway.

I should start this post by mentioning that I once nearly got thrown out of the Dallas Museum of Art for proclaiming my views on modern art. Well, sort of. See, I was dragged to the art museum by my other half who was an art student at the time. And we made the mistake of going to the modern wing first. Whilst I was really hyper. And there was this canvas that was painted red. Like with a roller. Just ... red. No funky shape. No design in the red. Just a canvas painted red.

This offended me. Any monkey can do that. There is no art in a red canvas. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar and sometimes the crap the art establishment refers to as art is just crap.

Anyhow, I was in a highly sarcastic (to some people that means annoying ... to me, that means hysterically witty and funny) mood. And I kept up a nice running commentary throughout the modern wing. Now, once we got into the stuff that actually takes some modicum of freaking SKILL to create, I was enjoying the purty pitchers and stuff.

Then we walked into the very cool Egyptian room. Nifty stuff abounding. And as we walked out of the "tomb," we see this HUGE ... TALL ... MONGO wooden statue of a woman sitting in a chair. Yanno what they say about Texas women? The higher the hair, the closer to God? Well, this woman had them all beat. And, without missing a beat myself, I said, perhaps a mite too loudly, "LOOK! IT'S MARGE SIMPSON!"

Every child in the museum turned and laughed in total agreement.

The security guards, for some convoluted reason, took exception to this. Maybe it was because there were about ten different school groups there.

Anyhow, that's all backstory. What I really wanted to talk about is THIS.

To me, and I realize this is a subjective field, to ME, this is paint slop. This is not art. I can get Cubism, although I don't like it personally. But it's art. I can see Impressionism as art. Surrealism. I can see a lot of the Isms as art.

To me, this painting simply looks like the work of a four year old. That's it. Paint smeared around. Random, for the most part. Playing with paint (and there's nothing wrong with that!).

But, museum-worthy, great sums of money worthy, art ... it ain't. It's paint and canvas and no great shakes.

However, the art of the four year old Marla Olmstead of New York is being touted as the work of a child prodigy. They are comparing her work to Jackson Pollock and Wassily Kandinsky.

In my opinion, that's crap. She's sold 25 paintings, or rather her crafty parents have, and they've made $40,000. That's an average of $1600 a painting.

OMFG ... there are people honing their craft out there making nothing. This kid is playing with paint and raking it in.

I will never understand the New York "high art" world. Never.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go watch I've Heard the Mermaids Singing and enjoy the visual one liners.

Posted by Red Monkey at 12:55 AM | Comments (5) | Never Underestimate the Power of Human Stupidity | Sketches | Stumble

August 11, 2007

Redneck Central

During college, I lived in a little duplex on campus. It was a nice little place ... the rent was unbelievably low even for an on-campus place. The drawback was that the place was tiny and only had one small and ancient window air-conditioner ... and this was hotter than hades Texas we're talking about.

So, we moved off campus to another duplex. Doubled the size of our living space (at least doubled) and we also doubled our rent. And, our neighbors became ... well ... let's just say they were interesting. We called the place the Neighborhood of Pigs. (And realize now, that this was highly offensive to the animal pigs ... who are much cooler than any of these neighbors were.)

On one corner, in front of our new home was an alcoholic who lived with his much older wife. He'd yell horrible things at her periodically ... it was a true joy to listen to. Not.

In the other half our our duplex were the friends who had talked us into moving in here ... wonderful people and it was quite nice to continue to live next to people we actually knew and liked.

On the other corner (we lived on the top bar of a T intersection), however, were the rednecks from hell.

Seriously. These were the people with an American flag as their curtain on the front door ... and one of the largest Confederate flags I've ever seen as their curtain for the living room windows. They had a gorgeous, large front porch that I was jealous of. But, they also had the bench seat from a school bus and the back bench seat from an SUV as the seating arrangement on the porch.

I never did figure out how many people were living there, either. There were at least 3 guys and one woman. And, any given week, there might be as many as 5 guys living there.

They were typical rednecks. They had hated our next door neighbors since they moved in because they were gay (something they neglected to tell us about before we moved in!). They'd occasionally come outside and scream horrible things at Stacy and Melanie ... and then the weird dyke commune women from two streets over would inevitably come out and just stand in the street and glare at the rednecks until they got scared and ran back inside their house. (Neither we nor Stacie and Melanie knew any of these women ... but they would just magically appear in the street whenever the rednecks began thinking of getting out of line ... was very odd.)

And, of course, the rednecks had a hound dog and junk all over the yard and lined up by their privacy fence. They couldn't have been more a stereotype of a crappy redneck if they'd actually tried to be one. Although, I did find their mode of transportation amusing ... they drove a hearse!

Needless to say, the neighborhood was highly entertaining.

One evening, the drunk's wife was out of town. Not having her to scream at, he came and stood in his driveway, wavering there and looking for someone to yell at.

Redneck Girl came out of their house. With a bicycle. She gets on this red Schwinn 3 speed with the granny seat and handlebars, affixes her little bicycle helmet, checks her tall orange flag (I'm not kidding here) and proceeds to labouriously pedal off.

Drunk Man is happy now. He has someone to yell at. Hands on hips, he screams out "Ya fat cow! You're gonna have to do more than ride that bike once around the block if you want to lose some of that fat cow weight." He continues calling out "Fat Cow" at random intervals. And wavering.

She rode around the block once ... and retreated back into Redneck Central. It was the only time anyone ever saw her on that bike.

But the most amusing night in Pigs Neighborhood was the night the cops descended on Redneck Central.

You see, the five redneck boys and their girl were sitting in the house when they heard a noise in the backyard. Now, if the front porch was a junkyard mess, the backyard was far, far worse. There were paths of junk, bits of car parts, metal, miscellaneous stuff. One of the rednecks tip-toed outside, heard a noise from a different part of the yard and he high-tailed it back into the house.

They called the police. Because someone was trying to steal their junk. (And they were too scared to confront the burglar.)

Three or four cop cars show up, lights blazing. Some go in through the front door, others head around to the backyard. I am watching out the window, entranced by the scene as it unfolds.

The privacy fence falls over.

Turns out the privacy fence was something they had taken from a construction site and just leaned up against their crappy chain link fence. Scared the crap out of the cops when a whole section of fence fell over. But they started laughing. Guns drawn, they continued on into the junk infested backyard.

About 15 minutes later, the cops are laughing their butts off and getting into their squad cars. One last cop stood on the front porch and talked to the five redneck boys and the redneck girl for quite some time.

The prowler?

It was their pot-bellied pig.

The one they forgot they owned! These big, tough, redneck boys had been scared senseless by their own pet.

Naturally, the ASPCA came and picked up the pig soon thereafter. And their hound dog.

So they got a cocker spaniel pup that winter.

Some people never learn.

Posted by Red Monkey at 2:24 AM | Comments (0) | Never Underestimate the Power of Human Stupidity | Stumble

August 9, 2007

Thursday 13, also Thursday FOAD

Thursday 13

The universe never did make sense; I suspect it was built on government contract. - R.A.H.

Things wrong with the world today:
1) People do not take responsibility for their own actions any more. (If "they" ever did.)
2) People do not really take care of each other.
3) Most people think they are islands ... or at least that their immediate family is an island.
4) Many religious people are sooooooooooo happy with their religion, they wanna shove it down YOUR throat ... even though they don't strictly go by all the tenets they're supposed to go by.
Of course, they insist that YOU go by ALL of those tenets.
5) Politicians SUCK
6) Anarchy would be worse ... (see numbers one and two).
7) Democracy may not be the best system there is, but its the best we have.
8) The existence of insurance companies. They should all be shot, scrapped, their fields sown with salt, and other bad things done.
9) COBRA health insurance
10) Anyone who doesn't believe in global warming (and you should look at my electric bill).
11) Cell phones. Do we REALLY need to be connected 24/7? I don't.
12) People who shrug and say, "It's good enough" when we know it's not.
13) People who rush something to market before they've thought it out and then later they go, "Oh, I didn't think THAT would happen."

FOAD for today:
COBRA insurance. They want $330 up front to cover me from 7/10 to 8/10. Sent that in 10 days ago. Now, like a stupid, "I forgot to RTFM dweeb," I see that it can take up to THIRTY freaking days to process. So, by the time they've got it processed, I won't be breathing anymore because I can't afford to buy the $210 asthma medication because I already paid the COBRA people $330 so that my $210 medication would only cost me $35.
To ALL health insurance, COBRA and otherwise, to all paper pushers who forget that there are PEOPLE out here, FOAD!!!

There's more ... but that's all the energy I have with which to rant right now. I've gotta get back to putting my online portfolio up. *sigh*

Quote of the day ... another Robert Heinlein quote:

I am free, no matter what rules surround me. If I find them tolerable, I tolerate them; if I find them too obnoxious, I break them. I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything I do.

Posted by Red Monkey at 4:36 AM | Comments (1) | Never Underestimate the Power of Human Stupidity | Stumble

August 8, 2007

If Microsoft were HQ'd in Georgia

Another old chestnut of an email forward ... some of these make me cringe, but most of them are hysterical ... again, probably dates around 1996 or so (dig the Windows '95 being the hot new MS system)

Ways things would be different if Microsoft was headquartered in South Georgia


1. Their #1 product would be Microsoft Winders
2. Instead of an hourglass icon you'd get an empty beer bottle
3. Occasionally you'd bring up a window that was covered with a Hefty bag
4. Dialog boxes would give you the choice of "Ahh-ight" or "Naw"
5. Instead of "Ta-Da!", the opening sound would be Dueling Banjos
6. The "Recycle Bin" in Winders '95 would be an outhouse
7. Whenever you pulled up the Sound Player you'd hear a digitized drunk redneck yelling "Freebird!"
8. Instead of "Start Me Up", the Winders '95 theme song would be Achy-Breaky Heart
9. Power Point would be named "ParPawnt"
10. Microsoft's programming tools would be "Vishul Basic" and "Vishul C++"
11. Winders 95 logo would incorporate Confederate Flag
12. Microsoft Word would be just that: one word
13. New Shutdown WAV: "Y'all come back now!"
14. Instead of VP, Microsoft big shots would be called "Cuz"
15. Hardware could be repaired using parts from an old Trans Am
16. Microsoft Office replaced with Micr'sawft Henhouse
17. Four words: Daisy Duke Screen Saver
18. Well, the first thing you know, old Bill's a billionaire
19. Spreadsheet software would include examples to inventory dead cars in your front yard
20. Flight Simulator replaced by Tractor Pull Simulator
21. Microsoft CEO: Bubba Gates

Posted by Red Monkey at 7:25 AM | Comments (0) | Never Underestimate the Power of Human Stupidity | Stumble