If Michael Brown were my black brother...
So let’s pretend that a cop named Wilson shot my black brother (Brown), who had just robbed cigars from a store and smacked around an innocent old Korean man. Obviously, my brother has no respect for his elders. Nor does he have respect for the police, attacking Wilson.
Wilson, in self-defense, exaggerated or not, then kills my brother. My brother is a three-hundred-pound troublemaker. I’m not too proud of him. Punks don’t do me right. And I wouldn’t be proud now of his defenders, who self-righteously beat people up and destroy their property in the name of my brother, whom they don’t even know.
My dead brother, who was never celebrated for anything in his life, now becomes a cause célèbre for toads like Al Sharpton, Eric Holder, President Obama (the divisive unifier) and the crowds of self-interested looters, petty criminals, and misguided communists.
After the confused destruction of their own town, Ferguson, the criminals giggle. They laugh at the liberals who support their saintliness when they know that they are sinners. They dishonor punk Michael Brown while they pretend that they are honoring him.
Would I defend my own brother and allow him to be the reason for rioting and looting against innocent people who had nothing to do with the loss of my brother? The blacks have a history of standing up for black criminals against the police. Then when they get robbed or beaten, they blame it on the failure of the politicians to supply more police.
Now even if Brown were my brother, not some overweight, angry teenager, I would sue for peace rather than lead a crowd down blocks, throw rocks at irrelevant people, burn down innocent strangers’ houses, and shoot chaotic bullets.
Aren’t these irrelevant crowds worse than Wilson, who was provoked before he shot? The innocent strangers in Ferguson were unfortunate victims of their own hatred. The blacks are using race has a tool for vengeance.
If I used race as an excuse and said Wilson was a bigot or KKK when there was no evidence of it, wouldn’t I be judging him by the color of his skin rather than the content of his character? Wouldn’t I be doing what Martin Luther King warned against? Wouldn’t I be a small, bitter-minded man, like Malcolm X?
These days, too many blacks view white men as people who react to their black skin, and they use it as an excuse for the color of their own stupid violence.
Race is an issue to race-baiters, who want to make money off it or use it for power. Liberals have turned non-profit into self-interested billions.
I think that the blacks in Ferguson are despicable and an insult to Martin Luther King’s memory. Yet I am far from prejudiced. I don’t even see black people. People don’t have skin color to me. I see neutral people. I don’t even consciously know the color of the person I’m speaking to.
Martin Luther King’s dream of a color-free society lives with some of us. It’s only the descendants of Malcolm X who are so bitter and greedy that they want to keep racism alive. It’s ironic that those who pretend they hate racism are the greatest racists of all.
If I were Brown, I would have laughed at the fools marching for me. I would have sneered at their looting.
I would have felt good that I was beyond it all, rather than a dimwitted marcher in the alleys of my false celebration.