Black Racists of 2020 The WAZ Awards
“It was never easy for me. I was born a poor black child.” Steve Martin, from ‘The Jerk’ 1979.
Our man NuGene caught the brass ring for researching Black Lives Matter ‘activist’ Shaun King to see if he was genuine, dyed in the wool, WAZ award material. Gene’s Occupation: Bosun, Alaska Marine Highway deck crew. Gene started out cleaning toilets and making beds in the steward’s department thirty years ago. Week on, week off. Bouncing around from ship to ship. Be ready in case they call you for an extra shift. He worked his way into the kitchen where he washed dishes and occasionally got to be a cook. Not chief cook, but second or third cook was better than cleaning toilets. Worked his way out on the deck crew starting as a watchman, then seaman, then able bodied seaman, finally bosun. Qualifications for the WAZ: Gene has a phenomenal ear for inflection, accents, words, phrases, and an almost photographic memory for poems and oratory. He does an epic every month. In November it’s Noyes’ ‘The Highwayman,’
In December it’s Poe’s ‘The Raven.’ He knows them all by heart but he’s made copies of all of them so people can follow along and join in if they want. These he bound into booklets, dog-eared now from years of use,
The format is choral recitation, like ancient Greek theater. Sometimes a single speaker (Gene), sometimes two’s, threes, sometimes everybody. Usually a combination or individual speakers and the group.
This being the third week of January, Gene passed out the booklets.
We put down our glasses and stood.
And Gene was off.
“Five score years ago, a great American in whose symbolic shadow we stand, signed the emancipation proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity…”
Chairman Roy took the second paragraph, Ira the third. Neither needed the booklet. So it went, until the “I have a dream” section which we all do together to the last line:
“Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty we are free at last!”
The room went quiet. We looked around at each other and smiled. It’s a moment for us. We’re proud of it.
After that, we took our seats, took up our glasses, and started speculating, as we do every year, on who really killed Martin Luther King, Jr. Who put him in that particular hotel, on that particular balcony, at that particular moment? Why were city crews cutting down those trees and bushes that would have blocked a shooter’s way, at dawn, on a weekend, the day after the assassination? Even Kings family didn’t believe James Earl Ray did it. So who?
Roy rapped his mallet on the table. “Okay, white penis, melanin-deficient mutants. We’re off in the weeds again. Time to get back on track. What’s it got to do with today’s candidate?”
“I’ll tell you what.” Nugene said. “We’re nearing three score years since Martin Luther King said those words. What passes for black oratory now? Instead of Martin Luther King we have Shaun King twitting divisive hate mongery to a million and a half dopes on social media. Social media is social disease of this nation. You think that’s a coincidence?”
That brought a general nodding of heads.
“Shaun’s a guy,” he went on, “who began as pastor, founded his own church, worked social media to recruit people. He was known as the Facebook pastor. Talked up plans to buy a street corner for his church and told the faithful, “Will you believe God with me for that?”
“Damn!” Sonny said, “That sounds like Jessie Duplantis when he wanted another jet plane for Jesus.”
“Absolutely.” said Gene. “Find a cause afflicting black people, then look out for Shaun highballing down the tracks on a fast freight fundraiser express. Haiti, hurricanes, black lives, coronavirus, he’s like Louis Armstrong said, ‘The mo we give, the mo they represent.’
Roy, “But is he dialed into money and power?”
“Money? Well, he’s a five figure speaker.”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“Mean’s exactly what it sounds like. He gets ten grand and up for speeches. He came to Alaska a couple years ago. To Anchorage. The University paid him $21,000 for, are you ready? One 30-45 minute speech, one 20-30 minute Q&A with the audience, and one 45-60 minute meeting with a ‘select’ group of UAA students. Two hours total, from 7 pm to 9 pm. Here, I printed a copy of the contract.”
“$21 grand for two hours? Jesus!”
“Plus the University agreed to provide 2 nights lodging, ground transportation, and the venue with lights and sound.”
“I’ll be go to hell,” Sven said. “That’s twice what the boat made that whole fall black cod opening down in Chatham last year. We got beat to shit, too. Five foot seas-six feet apart for three days then it turned around and blew like hell the other way. I think me and Ole gonna start Norwegian Lives Matter. We’ll stay warm and dry and don’t even have to buy bait.”
“Save us tickets, Sven.” Roy said. ” Okay Gene, tell us more.”
“Our man Shaun has celebrity backers, millionaires, got a billionaire backer, too so they say. Major coverage of Shaun stumping for Bernie Sanders in the Presidential campaign. According to himself he raises millions, maybe tens of millions. Just one of his operations, The North Star was supposed to be bringing in a minimum of $125,000 a month. He gets huffy when people ask where the money went. Threatens to sue them.”
Roy, “How is it you believe them not him?”
Gene, “If one or two people, Roy, at the back of a line say somebody cut in front of them, it’s their word against his. If dozens of people at the front of the line say somebody cut in front, I’m going with the line.
“If one or two people out of all the fund raiser organizations Shaun King started, come out in public and say he’s unqualified, or he’s a con artist, or they don’t know were all the donation money went, well, it’s their word against his. But what if dozens of people who ran organizations he was supposedly leading say he’s incompetent or they don’t know where the money went, or both?”
“Even so, it’s a money issue, not a racism issue. Which is the point here.”
“Is it a race issue if he’s one of the most successful social media race baiters going? Or if he hypes the black victim card? Like his claim a group of a dozen or so big white farm boys from the FFA attacked him inside school and almost beat him to death. The detective who investigated it at the time took statements from students and teachers at the school, and found a) Shaun wasn’t hurt badly and b) it was a one-on-one fight over a girl.”
“Here’s a grin, he’s at least half white himself.”
Uncle Tim wanted to know, “What’s funny about that?”
“Oh come on, Tim. If the head of the local Klu Klux Klan chapter was half black, are you telling me you wouldn’t laugh at him? I would. A lot of people, black and white, question whether he’s black at all. Here he is.” Gene held up a picture.
Tony said, “He’s whiter than Sven.”
“Says his father is an unknown black man. However that may be, the story got Shaun into Morehouse, an historically black University, on a scholarship Oprah Winfrey set up for young black men. Then he became a preacher, then he became what they call an ‘influencer’ on social media.”
“What’s that mean?”
“In this case, it means he has enough clout to wreck lives and careers with a mere twit based on lies, innuendo, and flawed feedback. He put out a mug shot of Robert Cantrell, a white man, to his million douche bag lemmings saying Cantrell had shot a little black girl. The douche bags threatened to rape and torture and murder women from Cantrell’s family. The damage was done by the time the cops arrested a couple BLACK guys for the killing. Racist Shaun took down the post, but did he call the black gunman who confessed ‘a racist, violent, asshole…’ as he did Cantrell? If he did, I missed it. And his followers were still harassing Cantrell’s family. Cantrell ended up in prison for robbery and killed himself there a few months later. One of his last conversations was telling his lawyer that he was afraid for his family.
This brought a shaking of heads and mutterings of, “That ain’t right.”
“Or how about when Shaun twits out the lie to his lemmings that a white state trooper in Texas raped a black drunk driver and threatened to kill her boy friend who’d showed up at the scene? Lucky trooper, his body camera proved she made it all up. Still he got a barrage of death threats, and another trooper with the same last name also got death threats based on Shaun King’s propensity to blame white men. Think that ain’t racist? AND! neither the woman who cooked up the story nor Shaun King charged for all the trouble they caused that man getting a drunk driver off the road as he’s paid to do.”
Tim said, “Both those mistakes happened in 2018/19, Gene. We’re talking about 2020.”
“Mistakes? Am I mistaken that in 2020 Shaun King wants statues and images of Jesus Christ torn down because–he says–they’re a form of white supremacy?”
“Swear to God. Tear them down, he says! He says holy images look too European. So, Jesus’ got to go unless he’s dark skinned. Shaun King brings cancel culture to to the Messiah! Ha Ha.”
“Well, he can’t have my Jesus.” Sonny said, “Mine’s pink.”
“Pink?” Yancy said.”
Sonny smiled happily and began to sing with that great Texas drawl,
“Ah, don’t care if it rains or freezes,
Shaun cain’t have mah plastic Jesus,
ridin’ on the dashboard of my car.
Comes in colors pink and pleasant,
glows in the dark, it’s iridescent,
take it with you when you travel far.”
Gene lit up at that and dove in with the next verse,
“Shaun can’t have my sweet Madonna,
dressed in rhinestones sittin’ on a
pedestal of abalone shells.
Goin’ 90 I ain’t scary,
Shaun can’t have my Virgin Mary,
tellin’ me that I won’t go to hell. (take us home, Al!)
Singer songwriter Al Purdy, led us in the finish,
“Christopher the traveler’s Saint,
keep me safe without dark paint
riding on the dashboard of my car,
I feel I’m protected amply
by the Old World holy family
Take them with you when you travel far.”
“On that note,” Roy announced, “It’s time for a vote. To sum up. Here’s a fellow that’s brailing millions, hobnobs with the super rich, and with national politicians, gets away with broadcasting racially inflammatory lies, and he wants to get rid of images and statues of Jesus, maybe even pink ones. What do you say?”
“WAZ! ” “WAZ!” “WAZ!”
Well, there you have it. Shaun congratulations from us here in the rain forest. We give you the WAZ. Take it with you when you travel far.