"with the fury of a thousand suns..."

I try everyday not to hate people. Not all people, but a select segment of people I know.
I never understood the Bible when it said its better to be cold than lukewarm. Now I get it. Like the ring falling in the sixth sense. Cold means your probably do not know any better. Anger at a baby who soils the pamper? Never. There is no knowledge of another course of action. But lukewarm? That means you know you could be hot. Or be cold. But choose neither. You make mediocrity your refuge. I'm am surrounded by these people. And I am tired of making excuses for them. Some are my friends, some are not.

Maybe I need to face the fact that these people are stupid, worthless nimrods whose existences would have been better served as tables and/or chairs on the titanic. Men and women who continually subject themselves to the most trivial of pursuits, however lose sight of the triviality. And these are the bastards who are supposed to know better. These are DuBois' talented tenth. The cream of the crop. Our chosen future.
Who are on facebook, myspace, black planet the majority of the day sending dumb ass message back and forth about nothing. And this is not conjecture, I have witnessed it happen. Not about how to make money, or being active in helping...helping anybody. Not about spiritual salvation, or lack of the need for it. A coherent, lucid, slightly meaningful dialogue? Shit, you must be out of your mind.

Or better yet, how many more asinine conversations will I be subjected to about the conquest of some misguided black girl lost. Or the plans make this conquest a reality. How about the ranting of a young black women and her "baby boy", the young man she refuses to demand manhood from. She loves his second childhood because she demands nothing more. He loves his second childhood because no one has reminded him of manhood, and with no knowledge of it, how can he feel the sting of its absence?
She is no more a woman than he is a man. And this would be understandable. If there were no diplomas. Degrees. Understanding parents. Supportive adults. Food, shelter, knowledge, wisdom, information, definitions of love and success, right and struggle, wrong and freedom. If there were no more pictures of emmitt till, young babies carrying babies on bus with no man present. If there were no more families where everyone has a different last name. No young men, who lacked the love and knowledge that the chosen so recklessly take for granted, forced to hug a street corner for the security that is guaranteed to us in the constitution. No young men, who are the loved and the chosen, who glorify the struggle of those who were not provided with the same opportunities as them. None of the elderly whose broken backs on the outside just mirror their broken spirits on the inside as the youth cast them demeaning glances. Then I can say you forgot. You can't fix something you know nothing about. But. You know.

How can we ever survive if our goals are mired in regression?

I know this isn't the most lucid of my entries. It's the fury inside of me. Some of what I have written is directed at me. But more so to you. A part of me doesn't want you to change. Keep talking loud and often about nothing. Keep buying ringtones. Keep shaking your ass at clubs. Keep rejecting womanhood. Keep your hats big and sunglasses on at night. Keep ducking manhood. Keep away from the hood, keep away from saving it. Keep away from schools, and those children that cry out for your guidance everyday with a inaudible song.Never, ever, ever seek out the truth about anything. Keep talking. Just make sure its stays at talking. Please don't give up on text messaging your life away. No businesses, no independence. Love the security that 50 hour work weeks, 60 grand a year and benefits bring. Retire at 60. Don't care about each other. Because if you change, what will I write about?