Black Lives Don’t Matter

Karen is an archetype symbolic of all the things folk hate about some women. She knows that you are entitled to her opinion. Second, she also knows that you are the problem. Last, she knows with scientific certainty that the answer is the manager. He’ll fix it so we can be happy. The manager can make us all stop saying that Black Lives Don’t Matter.

The Karen spoken of in this piece is deeply concerned about the fate of downtrodden black men who are prey to evil white cops. She is sure that there are secret meetings in the basement of local pizza places where they choose their young buck to hunt and kill. Karen, here is the thing. Black Lives Don’t Matter to you.

Karen and her friends while chanting “Black Lives Matter” express a hidden message that on some level, black lives don’t matter. There can’t be successful, contented African Americans. The only Black people they acknowledge are oppressed and downtrodden. Karen and her friends spend hours at Cafe Strada fretting over the desperate lives of those living in the Alcatraz Apartments. It’s exciting to fill the street outside the cafe with a cloud of smoke from Gitanes and sip doppio espresso while bemoaning the tragic lives of those living in Peralta Village. They love to show how much they worship Mao and are down for the cause of battling whiteness.

Karen Cares and You Don’t

Karen is all about her brand. She cares and wants to make sure that you know she cares. Her house is a temple to the things you can buy at Whole Foods. She can’t offer you lunch without a 30 minute PowerPoint deck on the work that went into the PBJ stuck to the roof of your mouth. I mean, the cows from Humbolt County on a farm owned by a friend of hers and are fed the trimmings from hemp plants so the milk has a little CBD in it and it’s raw milk, of course. The peanut butter is hand ground by women who live on a collective farm in Santa Cruz. And the jam she gets from a chef retired from Chez Panisse who makes it from wild blackberries collected from briars still growing on Native American land on Albany Hill.

This is how Karen connects to the “Black Lives Matter” slogan. Karen cares about the downtrodden with a high intersectionality score. She believes her words when she screams, “Black Lives Matter” into the face of a white cop. It’s important to Karen that you know this. It’s also important that you know she was on Harrison Street near Fourth in Berkeley painting “Black Lives Matter” on the sidewalk outside Bette’s Diner. She even got a selfie with one of the cooks.

Karen, here is the thing—you can’t chant, “Black Lives Matter” loudly enough, with enough emotion, to gain the approval of CHAZ/CHOP. I know you have a good heart and mean well. I get it that you hate having anything in your nest that isn’t right. None of that matters, baby.

Fight the Whiteness

Baby, you are white. That makes you the reason The Social Justice Party, Sendero Luminoso, Black Lives Matter, and Antifa are miserable. Eliminating you is their answer to ending their misery. You still live because they need you so that they can keep a veneer of being diverse. Soon enough they won’t need the veneer and your whiteness and bougie ways will be what kills you.

I understand, sweetie. You think that the problem is the statues staining the visual landscape. They are a bitter reminder of our ugly past as slave owners and traders. The statues hurt your eyes and trigger you. So getting rid of them will solve it. Your nest will be made safe.

No Safe Nest

It will not, babe. Your nest will not be made safe once the statues are gone. The Social Justice Party is invested in a long game where the only allowed art is work that celebrates Islam and Mao. I saw you seated outside Bette’s Diner. You won’t be able to wear the Martins, fishnets, hot pants and sheer tank top. The pink hair will get shaved off. All that hotness is offensive to the revolutionaries you believe are your friends. There is a burka in your future.

Everything that isn’t Muslim or Mao is offensive to these revolutionaries. Lately, we were told that soap is racist. Soap. You take pride in showing up to work on time, saving and investing wisely, working hard, and planning for the future. All of these are symbols of your white privilege and consequent deep racism.

Girl, listen, I understand. You want to make the world a better place. You want to feel safe. The Social Justice Party spoke sweet words in your ear and promised you an end to your fear and poverty. Your whiteness and love of the cause is the very thing that puts you high on the target list.

Twitter Said, “Orange Man Bad”

I stopped following you on FB and twitter. There is no point. You are drunk on blue Kool-Aid. I get blue team platitudes and slogans anytime I comment or engage with you. It didn’t take many memes in your feed to understand that you hate Trump. BTW—those basement meetings you worry about are not plans to murder young black men. They are plans to seduce you into becoming a prisoner on a train headed for Manzanar. Your BLM friends are the people behind this, not the Orange Shitweasel named Trump.

Maybe you don’t know why you hate Trump, tbh. And you want to like Biden but he keeps doing stupid shit. It can’t be that the evil orange man could be the answer. He is, though. He is, tbh. Biden and the Democrats don’t want an election. They want a revolution that destroys this country and replaces it with a totalitarian, National Socialist Government. Biden won’t be president. He’s too far gone. There is a cadre of revolutionaries behind Biden that see this as their Great Tribulation. This is their path to the post-apocalyptic paradise with a god-king at the head of a new empire.

Yeah, I’m nuts. The Social Justice Party just wants to create a fairer, more just society where no one suffers from lack. I wish this were so. Marx and Mao created a way of life that only knows strife. They can’t win because success would make them bougie and thus evil. It would also end the strife that is central to being a disciple on the Shining Path.

It’s Your Fault, Cracker

You carry the collective guilt of everyone who isn’t black by your whiteness and privileged upbringing. It is because of you and everyone like you that there is so much misery and oppression. Nothing you say or do is enough to redeem yourself. Your racism is in your blood by your ancestry. No amount of graffiti on Harrison Street changes your innate, deep racism. You were born this way and no amount of encounter sessions to cure you of your whiteness will ever be enough. Karen, these people hate you.

They hate your whiteness. They hate your cute little flat on Northside just up the hill from Euclid. The psuedo-goth leather and lace gear offends their souls. Your good fairy card at Whole Foods makes their hair hurt. It’s a sin that you volunteer at a pet rescue for cats. Your Prius pisses them off. These people hate you just because you are you. Welcome to the cause.

By your incessant shouting that “Black Lives Matter” you expose yourself as a racist. That chant is a tacit admission that you accept the lie that black lives don’t matter. You agree with your Social Justice friends that white folk carry an indelible stain on their lives. Far from being someone who foments love, your fight for the cause is primary evidence that you hate yourself and your kin.

Angerier

I was angrier. My name is Alan Webb and I am a recovering wife beater. I know anger as a drug that is as powerfully addicting as meth. It took me years to recover from a lifelong addiction to anger. Staying sober is still a core spiritual discipline for me. You feel your anger as righteous indignation. The list of things wrong with the world is longer than anyone can recite. The answer is a liturgy of slogans shouted with gusto by the Social Justice warriors in your circles of influence. Never uttered is a solution that could be implemented.

Rock bottom is a thing. Anger has long term health risks. It cycles our bodies through destructive explosive events followed by depression and illness. Anger addicts eventually suffer from heart disease, gastrointestinal problems, and insomnia. Anger destroys relationships. It leaves the addict abandoned and desperate. Anger eats your soul. Life at rock bottom.

I got sober through giving grace. I never asked for grace or mercy from anyone. God asked me to start forgiving, to give grace first. Later on he asked me to serve others through small acts of kindness done with great love. The third element of this trinity is to desire only Christ.

Peace Be With You

I’m just sharing. I’ll never ask you if you are saved. I’m not the guy who will badger you into uttering the prayer. This is a holy fight happening in your heart and the heart of many others. It is God’s fight and I have faith that he will win in the end.

I’ll end here. We all die. Some of us may go to heaven. That’s not important to me. What’s important to me is today, how we live and impact each other today. Choose the Social Justice way and its perpetual unrest or choose life as another lamp lighting the way of mercy and peace. Peace be with you. تصحبك السلامة

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