Sunday, April 24, 2005

Hmmm. So FDR kicked the bucket with his illicit mistress in the next room. And good ol Eleanor had to just suck it up. What you gonna do, talk shit when a country is in mourning? Like they would have gave a fuck. She coulda been “but he was knockin boots,” even though his paralyzed ass wasn’t even, even though the emotional betrayal was probably far worse, but, I mean, the point being, that in this day and age, is there less judgment of history or more? I think the key is that back then history caught up with you way later, it’s like when you have a fight with someone, you’re real pissed right when it’s happening, somewhat pissed about an hour later, and three days later you don’t even remember what the fuck it was you were fighting about.

That was the way it was. You could fuck up and tweak the jewels and by the time anyone beyond that crack dealer and your boy whut holds your piece had heard about it, it was history. His story. Their tale, and what a one it was to tell. Grass is always greener, and a shiny a-hole looks all the shinier under the cast of history’s bright glare.

Nowadays you get busted with a crew of acid freaks in a back alley, well, it’s on the nightly news and sooner on the innernet. You’re totally fucked. There is no historical balance vis a vis time. But it’s a ying yang dillio and I ain’t talking bout those twins. For some stuff, back in the aforementioned “day,” the fire could burn and fuel mad fires faster than lickety split, like if you were a black feller or a Hawaiian or “local” boy that got too close to one of the cherished “white women” and she came up with a bloody nose on a side street? You might as well cash in your dollahs and kiss your wife and kids goodbye, cuz you’ll be lucky to be droppin soap in san Quentin if they don’t string your ass up from the nearest tree.

Did ya know? Honolulu back in the day had the “evil white man (woman)” droppin major anithesis of knowledge on the crew. And it’s funny, how the race mixin shit was even more looked down on than getting with that fag shit. Look at Emile Griffith. The whole contingent knew what was up, but you just didn’t talk about it. See that’s the cool thing, FDR could actually cover up, with the blessing of the press, the fact that he couldn’t walk. Nowadays if dole’s d ain’t werkin properly he’s holding a long hard pen and looking at it longingly and giving dick butkus a hug and a non fagcentual kiss.