Something told me to stay in bed.
But I was like, Nah, hordes of Beyonce haters are gonna be out at 345 Park Avenue today and I need to at least be a witness, if not a part of the small and perhaps even vocal opposition.
And doomed by my decision making, I’m late as shit, so when I get there close to 9Am – the thing was supposed to start at 8Am – and I see a crowd gathered, I know I’ve found the place.
Turns out, they were gathered around this guy.
He doesn’t know any Beyonce songs, he’s not sure why people are surrounding him, he was just wandering through.
Then this guy materializes.
His name is Ariel Kohane.
He doesn’t know the lyrics to “Formation“, but he knows it’s anti-law enforcement, he didn’t like the iconography of Beyonce’s Super Bowl performance and he thought the situation in Ferguson, Missouri is a result of a #BlackLivesMatter movement member trying to kill a cop.
Then there was April.
She’s from Seattle, was wearing a Police hat and a Russell Wilson jersey and has a biracial son.
I never did figure out exactly what the fuck she was talking about.
Racist please; in the future, you’re gonna hafta do a better job.
Your ancestors would be ashamed.
They used to turn out in droves if the word went up that a Nigger so much as looked at a white woman.
And they meant business.
Now, you’re more likely to find a racist filming a nigga fucking his wife than looking for a weapon to try and stop it.
This e and iGangsterism that the Twitter finger generation has fallen into has not only leaked over into the country’s longest held practice but actually threatens to take the whole thing down.
I mean, it would be a shame to our parents’ and our grandparents’ generations, generations that actually felt the need to fight against racism, to discover not only what many had suspected all along; that racist were truly cowards, but also the hypothesis that many had warned of but most had rejected – that, given enough time racism itself would collapse under the weight of its own imbecility – might actually be true.
Put up the good fight, why dontcha?
I mean, you hate Niggers, why not at least invent a reason for it?
The numbers thing I can actually dig. No racist wants to confront his enemy 1-on-1 or even 2-to-1 and not even often 5, 10, or 20-to-1.
That would take guts.
And the one tenant of racism requires that you have none of those.
Dark Knight Joker, Travis Bickle for Taxi Driver and Ricky Vaughn from Major League avis don’t actually mask insecurities, they highlight them.
Props to racist white bitches on Twitter; at least they show their ugly-ass faces.
But I guess it’s a fool’s errand to imagine that you’ll ever give it up.
That you’ll look at the whole premise of racism like the rest of us looked at B.o.B. for suggesting the earth was flat; quaintly antiquated, but preposterous, ridiculous and stupid nonetheless.
I mean realistically, Beyonce made one song to celebrate the beauty inherent in her Blackness.
And the only people that seem to hate it are guys hunkered down behind some Trump avi and girls showing their real faces but at the same time wondering why they’re all still Single Ladies.