Yo White Boy! (Volume 10)

Your Ten Commandments and My Ten Fingers: Oh Happy Day!

An Ode Owed To Bo Derek

The number ten plays is pivotal in how we, or at least many, understand and organize the world. It is the base of the anglicized number system. A significant number of people learn to count by tens, exemplified by terms like “top ten,” “ten out of ten,” or “a perfect ten.” Our fingers and toes lend themselves to counting in tens, which is why they are often called digits. In everyday life, ten often symbolizes completeness or excellence, whether it’s a ten-minute timer, ten commandments, or even a decade marking ten years. Simple, yet powerful; an anchor in both math and culture.

We shall revisit fingers shortly.

Count on it.

This is the tenth installment or volume of what I call a “sublication” to LookingNWords, known as Yo White Boy. I coined, or invented, that term simply because there are things that I wish to explore outside of my main columns that are specifically pertinent to Europeans and my relationship with them as an entity. I representing the entity. Since I haven’t the bandwidth to manage numerous publications as some do (I marvel at them) and I knew this would be a regular feature, I thought it quaint to call it a sublication. Subversively substantial and subjectively sublime.

Given that ten is such an important number, as previously mentioned, it would be literary malfeasance of the highest order for me to not memorialize this milestone. Therefore, it is only fitting that the interrogatories, editorials, observations and facts presented in the first nine volumes be synopsized and considered. The purpose of which, it is my sincere hope, will become apparent.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…We Have Ignition

In volume nine I ask the question: Who are the real "monsters" at the Monster's Ball? Who are the real perverts? MANN up and explain to me your sex trip.” The piece examines how is it that Black Men in the United States, and women as well, are sexually discriminated against given historical European sexual perversion. Tough topic and you white boys didn’t like the truth (the stats tell me what your forked-tongue does not). None of you had the balls to defend yourselves, because you couldn’t.

Que sera, sera.

In volume eight I ask the question: Unapologetic, what do I have to apologize for when you certainly do and won’t. Specifically I state “I own the label “unapologetic,” while simultaneously flipping the insult into armor. Much like James Baldwin, Audre Lorde, or Malcolm X before me, I reclaim the idea that Black anger, Black truth, and Black intellect are not things to apologize for—they are acts of resistance. They are necessary, by any means necessary. And more than anything, they are expressions of love for Black People. The kind of love that refuses to lie to protect white comfort.” Tough topic and you white boys didn’t like the truth (the stats tell me what your forked-tongue does not). None of you had the balls to defend yourselves, because you couldn’t.

Que sera, sera.

In volume seven I discuss the act of resistance, that combat, win, lose or draw, is sometimes a victory in itself (something that you most certainly should comprehend). Specifically stating: “It ain't the win, it's the fade.” Essentially stating that you will no longer be able to violently coerce the world into compliance. Tough topic and you white boys didn’t like the truth (the stats tell me what your forked-tongue does not). None of you had the balls to defend yourselves, because you couldn’t.

Que sera, sera.

In volume six I flat out confront your hubris driven hypocrisy in terms of calling people “illegal.” In a purposefully blistering and irrefutable indictment stating “As the world gasps, guffaws and giggles at the United States’ utter idiocy while you round up “illegal aliens,” I’d like to know WTF you are? You don’t come from here and there were people here when your alabaster behind showed up. Did you ask their permission to live and work here? Did they declare you “legal?” How did that go? Do tell.” Tough topic and you white boys didn’t like the truth (the stats tell me what your forked-tongue does not). None of you had the balls to defend yourselves, because you couldn’t.

Que sera, sera.

In volume five I discuss The Great White Hope and provide the historical genesis of the euphemism with brutal precision. More importantly, I speak of the linguistic prison that most non-Europeans are unaware of that leads to labelization by stating “One of the words that is constantly used to describe my writing is “confrontational.” There are others that Black Men in the United States constantly hear and are labeled as such as “angry,” “aggressive,” “arrogant” and a host of others. Fine with me, actually. I own it. I just want to make sure that I wear it well and look elegant in my black suit. For me to fail to confront five centuries, and counting, of dehumanizing oppression and fail to be angry about it, particularly given his-story, would render me nothing more than a mentally enslaved psychopath.” Tough topic and you white boys didn’t like the truth (the stats tell me what your forked-tongue does not). None of you had the balls to defend yourselves, because you couldn’t.

Que sera, sera.

In volume four I ask the question: When Is "Self-Defense" Allowed Against You? Specifically I state “What makes you think that when you accost someone and hit them in the mouth they dare not strike you in return? What moral authority are you operating from, or is it just white supremacy (that was a rhetorical question). If you are so much about “democracy” and “human rights,” “God” and the rest of that equine feces you rhetorically espouse, why are you so afraid? Why are you so paranoid. Under what circumstances do those you injure have “the right” to defend themselves against you?” Tough topic and you white boys didn’t like the truth (the stats tell me what your forked-tongue does not). None of you had the balls to defend yourselves, because you couldn’t.

Que sera, sera.

In volume three I ask the question: Why Is The Same Thing Called Something Else When You Do It? Specifically I state “So, dig this white boy, how come your drug addicts, purveyors and manufacturers are victims of an “opioid crisis” worthy of pity? While the same shit with a different smell that was, likely, introduced to Alkebulanian communities in the United States by your Central Intelligence Agency, and a deliberate deployment of chemical weapons, is predatorial? Worthy of sentences and consequences that will have a negative effect on already citizenless citizens for decades to come.” Tough topic and you white boys didn’t like the truth (the stats tell me what your forked-tongue does not). None of you had the balls to defend yourselves, because you couldn’t.

Que sera, sera.

In volume two I editorialize your constant and incessant verbal insults and request that you “Stop calling me "Boss"...Massa.” Specifically I state “You will allow me to label you at my pleasure be it Nigger, Negro, Black, boy, coon, colored, darkie, shine, spook, Afro-Amerikan or African-Amerikan. But I take exception to you labeling me a European-Amerikan. I have more names for you than I do any other ethnic group including the 14 children I have with my sister. Further, I don’t like your arrogant Black ass spelling Amerikan in the manner that you do.

To that last statement I say “Ask me why, M.F.” Tough topic and you white boys didn’t like the truth (the stats tell me what your forked-tongue does not). None of you had the balls to defend yourselves, because you couldn’t.

Que sera, sera.

In volume one, the inaugural, I ask the stark question: Are You Just Arrogant Or Do You Think I'm Stupid? Specifically stating “Given the irrefutable validity of the data presented on your behalf, I would respectfully request an intelligent and cogent response to the question that I pose. The question, in case you weren’t paying attention is why do you refuse to apologize for what you call “America’s Original Sin” in front of the world? Don’t think I don’t know, but I want to see how many of you can concoct enough denialistic, dishonest, bovine feces to fill a cocktail glass. In the final analysis the only reason a person refuses to publicly apologize for wrongdoing is because they are not apologetic; which means they are apt to continue to commit the act(s).” Tough topic and you white boys didn’t like the truth (the stats tell me what your forked-tongue does not). None of you had the balls to defend yourselves, because you couldn’t.

Que sera, sera.

Yo, White Boy!

For you to be such a supreme being along with being “the home of the brave” you sure as hell aren’t showing the intellectual supremacy to answer pointed questions presented to you about your own conduct. This is made even more embarrassing given that these queries come to you from a Black savage singing the blues and eating watermelon. Why, you should have been able to vanquish such a childish mind of an intellectual “boy” with the wave of your hand! Yet you seem impotent to do so (no, not i-m-p-o-r-t-a-n-t).

And yea, though you walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and fear no evil because you are the meanest motherfucker in the Valley, you sure don’t have the courage to answer. You don’t have the bravery to confront your crimes. In fact, you seem ill-equipped for a well planned offense, though you revel in having one. You don’t do too good on defense; never have. Take for instance your “Department of Defense.” In actuality it is the Department of Offense. The DOO—as in doo doo.

Yo white boy, speaking of doo-doo, you are going to find yourself deeper and deeper in it for the very reasons articulated here. The world has figured out that you are a master at fighting in the center of the ring. Pressing your victim with offensive onslaught. But you don’t do so well against the ropes in a corner. Nonetheless, thank you for allowing me this milestone by your sheer existence; not that is my intent to give you the middle finger.

Oh Happy Day, and we have liftoff.