Monday, September 24, 2007


From the Archives

(March 2005) Woke up groggy so am writing instead of doing catas. Sat on my wet deck for 30 minutes drinking my first cup of java and watching the sun come up. Now I’m stretched across my sofa and coffee table, drinking a second cup with sugar-free butter-pecan ice cream (ran out of cream), which is, well, an interesting taste.

Am checking out Midnight Call: The Prophetic Voice for the Endtimes magazine, which someone left in our employee lounge, and remembering a resurrection song that my church youth choir sang
Life was filled with guns and wars and everyone got trampled on the floor—I wish we’d all been ready. Two men coming up the hill; one disappears and one’s left standing still—I wish we’d all been ready. Man and wife asleep in bed; he hears a noise and turns his head; she’s gone [a line that always made me snicker uncontrollably, which pissed off my mother]—I wish we’d all been ready. There’s no time to change your mind. The son has come and you’ve been left behind. You’ve been left behind. . . . .

It’s better than some of the make-’em-afraid-make-’em-very-afraid songs that they taught us at Baptist camp but I still wish my brain didn’t remember some of the appalling stuff that it remembers.

According to this magazine, world events make it clear that the end is near. We’re living out the prophecies of Revelations, folks, so save yourself while you can!

Haven’t read Revelations in a while, so am making my own assumptions about what it must say. I assume it describes dark days of exploitation, a time when society dismantles the safeguards that provide at least basic economic security to its neediest members. The endtimes must occur in a so-called ownership society (which, near as I can tell, means that, if you’re not one of the beast’s, er, the Shrub’s wealthy pals then you’re on your own, buddy). The beast must cut funding for food stamps, education, Medicaid, health care, safety inspections for food and drugs, and food for poor children, while forcing the poor and working people to make sacrifices for the benefit of the rich. Then I assume the FDR angel gets so pissed that he gives God a good ol’ smackdown, which must trigger the second coming.

Can’t help but think about Ayn Rand’s ironic definition of laissez-faire capitalism, which she defines as “a system where men deal with one another, not as victims or executioners, not as masters or slaves, but as traders, by free, voluntary exchange to mutual benefit.”Yeah. And now I can’t help but think about Herbert Hoover saying “The trouble with capitalism is capitalists. They’re too damn greedy.”

We all have our own interpretations, right?

I saw a KRS-1 performance at Howard University at the height of the Afrocentric education movement. His songs were (by his own definition) edutainment, and one of my favorites explains why the twelve tribes of Israel had to be black.

The words, from memory, are something along these lines:

Genesis, chapter 11, verse 10, explains the genealogy of Shem. Shem was a black man in Africa. If you repeat this fact they can’t laugh at ya. Genesis 14, verse 13, Abraham steps on the scene. Being a descendent of Shem, which is a fact, means Abraham too was black. Abraham, born in the city of a black man called Nimrod, grandson of Ham. Ham had 4 sons—one was named Canaan. Here, let me do some explaining. Abraham was the father of Isaac. Isaac was the father of Jacob. Jacob had twelve sons, for real, and THESE were the children of Israel. According to Genesis, chapter 10, Egyptians descended from Ham. Six hundred years later my brother, re-up, Moses was born in Egypt. In this era, black Egyptians weren’t right. They enslaved black Israelites. Moses had to be of the black race because he spent forty years in Pharoah’s place. He passed as the Pharoah’s grandson, so he HAD to look just like him. Yes my brothers and sisters take this here song. Yo! Correct the wrong. The information we get today is just daft but ask yourself, why is that? . . .The government you have elected is inoperative. . . .

All-righty. It’s 7:30 AM. Time for me to take a shower and get ready for my day.

LISTENING TO: “Damn Crazy,” as performed by disappear fear (I know I’m lazy, but I’m so damn crazy for you...)

READING: Midnight Call: The Prophetic Voice for the Endtimes. Whee!

SINGING IN SHOWER: haven’t had one yet, so I’ll have to include in a later entry.

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