I am moved to publish because tonight I very much wanted to beat a cracker to death. That's not at all a nice thing to think or say or write but it is the truth.
In my defense, a number of crackers have been asking for it of late. Loudly. Incessantly. In typical cracker fashion they've acted like they haven't earned a beating, what with their White Privilege/Tears/Fragility/Entitlement they should just keep on keeping on.
But they're wrong.
Case in point: While having a drink with my friend we were treated to a voluble and spirited cracker discussion of Mr. Kapernick and his (awesome) protest. One cracker decided to go on a monologue about cornbread and how he "sho 'nuff luuuvs cornbread," while the others did there best impersonations of some race-based memory of Amos 'n Andy.
You see where this is going, right?
I held my tongue. I drank my beer. My friend and I began talking about our deep and sudden desire to be somewhere else. I wanted to say something but what was the use? If you can't silently protest and you can't protest on the street and you can't be the President and say that *maybe* there's a problem... If POTUS isn't supposed to talk about race relations because it makes crackers feel icky then what can you do?
I'm depressed. I'm a POC and I've had enough.
There's no good way to wrap this up. Black Lives Matter.
Peace out, bitches!
