Greetings all!! Some time ago, I wrote to all subscribers, privately, that I was ending submissions to Substack, which is a GREAT free-speech New Media outlet, due to my decision to embark upon a new, “selfish,” private project—a learning project.
But, after making that private announcement, I continued my submissions, as many of you have noticed. I call them “submissions,” rather than articles, because a few of those 83 submissions that I’ve submitted have simply been videos with no commentary or very little commentary, such as
Do you REALLY want to know why the U.S. is supporting Ukraine? Hold on to your hat!
This is your city on progressivism. This is your city BEFORE progressivism.
Well, I finally realized something. What’s been holding me back from placing full effort into my new, “selfish” project is the 1960s/1970s “addiction” that I suffer from in my continued, seemingly worthless efforts of trying to “help save the world,” which has caused me to break the promise I’d made to myself to do MY sh*t (finally!!!) With regard to my decades-long, perhaps naïve [UNDERSTATEMENT!!!] efforts to “help save the world,” Black sisters of my generation would have mocked, “You gotCHO damn nerve!!” Amen, sisters, amen!!!
I realized that a private announcement was not large enough to keep me on my new, “selfish” track. So, I figured that if I put myself out on front street, and make this public announcement, then maybe—just maybe—that would help me to buck, cold turkey, my save-the-world addiction that can be said to have started on April 5th, 1968, the day after the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated, and I was just 18 years old. Incidentally, I’m not exactly a fan of King’s. I made that clear in some of my Substack articles. On King, I happen to share some of the perspectives that are reflected in the two documentaries, produced by Black conservatives, entitled Uncle Tom and Uncle Tom II.
But, it was the outrage I felt, back then, in that month of April, when I first began to realize that the only people that gave a sh*t about Daniel Boone, Hop-a-Long Cassidy, Wyatt Earp, Matt Dillion, Annie Oakley, Bat Masterson, Superman, Roy Rogers, The Lone Ranger, Maverick, Paladin, Jim Bowie, Kit Carson, Wild Bill Hickok, The Cartwrights, Bronco Lane, Buffalo Bill, Jr., Cheyenne Bodie, Davey Crocket and other 1950s TV Western good-guy cowboys and their noble efforts to support and fight for “law and order” and ethics and morals, and who saved damsels in distress, were Ralph, Jimmy, Shakes, Fantroy, Shot, Nasty, Billy and myself—the boys on my block who played “Cowboys and Injuns,” especially on Saturday mornings, thus assuring that “truth, justice and the American way” would be upheld.
As a little side note, the only damsels on the block were rope-jumping, Ball-and-Jacks-playing girls whose hair we boys took every opportunity to pull and then run. The only one of us that actually played with the girls was Shakes. And that was the most inexplicable phenomenon in the hood!! Shakes was the most ass-kicking dude for miles around. Yet, he had some kind of fetish for jump-rope, and was better at jumping rope than even Cookie, the girl who was the best rope jumper in the hood.
If we needed Shakes’s magnificent abilities as a pitcher for a baseball game we were on our way to playing, behind the YMCA at 50th & Indiana, in Chicago, but Shakes was jumping rope with the girls, there wasn’t sh*t we could do about it. Nobody could kick his ass, except my big brother. And, NO, Shakes did not grow up and “trans.” He grew up and continued his ass kicking abilities as a detective (and probably still jumped rope).
It’s interesting that, these days, as has been my personal experience, even if you are strongly capable of saving damsels in distress, you’ll be called a toxic male chauvinist misogynist Neanderthal pig. No, I ain’t kidding!! That actually happened to me, and it didn’t even have a single thing to do with an attempt, on my part, to “save” the chick.
Before I retired, I had developed a train buddy in riding to work each morning. Just someone who you sit next to and talk with about nothing, sometimes literally each of us reading our own newspaper. One day, the train showed up on the platform. I stepped back, and waved my hand forward to indicate to my train buddy, “Ladies first.” That’s how I was taught, as a child, by my parents. Well, to my befuddlement, she frowned. After we got on the train and sat down, she gave me a radical feminist, angry lecture, from the end of the line, at Howard Street, where we boarded, all the way to Jackson Street in the subway, in downtown Chicago.
What made it worse was that my 1950s training prevented me from saying, “Look, b*tch…….!” So, I had to sit there, politely, and listen to a manifestly INSANE WOMAN, tell me that I had suddenly, by ONE SIMPLE ACT OF 1950s COURTESY (or how about just courtesy PERIOD??!!) become an “oppressor of women.” The ride from Howard Street to Jackson Street was FORTY MINUTES LONG. And for FORTY MINUTES I had to actually listen to that sh*t—and “take it like a man,” as I would have been told by my male elders of a previous era.
I sat there thinking about a couple of pimp friends of mine, Cold Blood Slim and Baby Jones. I thought (forgive me), “This b*tch needs to be put out on the ho stroll!!!” No room for up-tight, stressed-out, feminist damsels in The Game. Cold Blood and Baby Jones would straighten her out!! But, I took it. I sat there, quietly, and took it….I took it for forty minutes, like the toxic male chauvinist misogynist Neanderthal pig that I was.
Well, anyway, I’m DONE. I do hope that you’ve all enjoyed my articles, most of which have been very serious ones, though I’ve occasionally included a little yuk-yuk (laughter, hopefully) in some articles.
I’m quite sorry to say that I’ve come to a rather pessimistic conclusion that our world, especially the West, is pretty much finished. Western civilization, in particular, is dead. In the past, civilizations have been born, become advanced, then deteriorated, and then died. So what else is new? No big deal. Whether one believes in religion—whatever religion—or not, you will read in the scriptures of various religions, that this cycle of the rise and fall of civilizations always happens. It is what it is. I’m done—gonna try to enjoy my new-found hobby.
But, for those of you who are new to my Substack page, here are a few serious [GOD FORBID!!] articles, minus their sub-titles, that I contributed, in hopes of adding something positive to discourse. These are not necessarily in any particular order:
What is the Future? Liberalism? The Civilizational State? Or Guanxi and BUSINESS?
Can someone PLEASE explain something to me? When did “White” people become SO important?
"PREACH, Brother Minister, PREACH!!" Self-criticism in the Black Community--REALLY?!
Now, if any of you, or any group of you, happen to succeed in your efforts to save the world, I have two things to say. Firstly, keep it to your DAMN self, because I don’t want to hear it. Secondly, even if you told me, I wouldn’t believe it.
As we used to close meetings, end telephone conversations, and end letters back in the 1960s/1970s, Peace out!
