The Woke Folk Factor

In the late fifties a friend repeated a joke to me that she heard from a comedian at a nightclub. The comedian sets-up his audience with a brief narrative that describes an impossible choice to be made between a rickety bridge and a raging river beneath it. He then asks the audience a rhetorical question, “What would be your choice?”: The bridge or the river?” Brief silence. Then, in mock revelation, he blurts out the answer: “Lower the water!”

It is fascinating to note how the mind works.  When I first thought about writing this article, that joke flashed into my mind despite the passage of decades since the fifties.  Now, the ‘woke’ people use the word, ‘critical’ extensively—critical ‘this’ and critical ‘that.’  I call it, ‘Critical Nonsense.’

In real life, what’s most critical now is a headlong spiral into socialism for — no, not ‘for’— but against America, or to be precise, Americans. That spiral is heavily fueled by the woke folk.

To begin with, the woke folks’ leading proponents promote socialist ideology under the guise of a purported advancement of Social Justice, which includes the political indoctrination of  grade school children despite strong  opposition to that by their parents and also in defiance of the academia ideal of describing political politics without promoting the political ideals of other governments. Incredible and worst of all, is the assistance which ruthless schoolteachers provide for transgender children and which is physically irreversible.   

If I seem too critical about socialism it’s because I am critical. Not a fashion type, I make an exception to my liberal judgment about the clothes people wear. But when I see brand new clothes that have a hole or patch at their kneecaps, I can’t help thinking that the wearer is slumming in homage to the ‘little guy,’ even though I know that is not the case in reality. 

I also know that the thought is triggered by my deep concern about a growing rapprochement between American Democracy and Socialism.

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About a month ago I happened to watch a one-and-a-half hour documentary on television which focused on UFO sightings and which included many narratives from a broad range of people who tell us they have experienced, “alien encounters of the first kind.” So far, the only uncontested fact about the possibility of intelligent life cohabiting the Solar System with us is the presence of UFOs whose maneuvers are exponentially advanced at least in terms of speed, e.g: from one horizon to another in seconds.

Putting that aside, the presumed alien ‘pilots’ assiduously avoid contact with humans except as in one significant instance described to us by a man and woman who claim they were abducted and subjected to experiments, and then returned to us. If true, what are we to make of that? My rhetorical question significantly suggests that the aliens are silent for the same reason that humans are when conducting experiments on animals. In any case, silence does not indicate equality, let alone experimental consent from captured ‘specimens.’

But the documentary included an uplifting narrative. Two soldiers reported an encounter with a UFO they had been chasing. The UFO happened to be on the ground. The soldiers ‘parked’  next to the UFO. When the soldiers contacted their command to ask what they should do, the response was, “Shoot it down!”  Wisely, the soldiers did not do that. The UFO whisked away.

The narrative stops there. But questions remain: Why did the UFO simply take off? Why has there been no attempt made by the aliens to communicate with the soldiers even if it were a simple “hello!” Why are UFOs checking our military installations? And why have the aliens been silent for half-a-century and conducting one-way observational activity at military sites in the dessert in the dead of night? 

In real life I share the joyous anticipation of cosmic alien ‘company’ as presented in the film, but something is not quite ‘right’ about the alien phantoms. Seizing humans against their will and subjecting them to experiments is not justified, even though the humans were safely returned. It doesn’t require a second Rosetta Stone to understand that. 

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As I was searching the Internet for something that might interest me, I came across an image that jolted me to instantly think that I was not tuned into mainstream television. Make no mistake about it. There it was…live!… and in broad Arizonian daylight during the Half Time break for the Superball football classic at the Arrowhead Stadium in Kansas City and viewed on television by millions of people throughout a good piece of global real estate, including the United States, Canada, Alaska, and certainly Barbados, where the Half Time goddess, Rihanna, was born. 

I hit the Superball event when its Half Time show was in progress.  In retrospect, I’ve since learned that its Half Time star, Rihanna had not performed for seven years. However, a large number of her fans attended the football game not necessarily to watch the game but because of her very successful career as a vocal artist whose credits include her lyrics.  The reviews of her performance are not as kind as mine]

[Note: There is a plethora of techniques re film editing which makes it virtually impossible to discern exactly when or where a splice has been made into the body of the whole. The close-up of Rihanna’s pelvic area was front and center and in sync with the lyrics and music, but not at all sexy.  After all, sex  and geometry don’t resonate. She uses her fingers heavily pressing against her skin to pantomime the rigid form of a rectangle surrounding the area in which her vagina resides. The reviews of her performance are not as kind as mine.]

I don’t know what Rihanna and Michael Jackson had in common other than their enormous wealth and an insatiable need to be noticed as unique pioneer entertainers. Michael thought that using his fingers to…er…playfully—er— gingerly jiggle his ‘member’ …would arouse sexual excitement in his audience and Rihanna thought that using her fingers to geometrically outline the parameters of her treasure immediately under the cloth of her jumpsuit  would at the very least rival Michael’s ‘bit’ under the fly of his pants (again, no pun intended.) 

We may never know what they intended, especially because of the two camera versions of at least one section of the Half Time entertainment. But one thing is certain: there was nothing sexy about Rihanna’s virtually soiled fingers, let alone when she smelled them after she had firmly and symbolically tinkered with the cloth flush over the location of her vagina, thereby reassuring her audience that she was as raunchy as they are—a touch of class. )

Some people might say I should mind my own business. Well, I usually do. But a rapid and global-wide cultural spiral is everyone’s business. Judgment is a major characteristic of human beings. Am I judgmental?  Of course I am. Judgment defines humanity. I don’t share my judgment about someone unless he asks me to do so. But I don’t mind judging celebrities because celebrity obliges them to accept judgment, like it or not. 

This time, I’ve expressed my concern about a rapid downward cultural spiral— tongue in cheek. This time, I am compelled to highlight the ever-increasing degeneration of our culture. This time, I add a simple yet significant suggestion here. Compare the following two quotes, the first a lyric composed by Rihanna, the second by Shakespeare, spoken by Romeo to himself and thereby to an audience, as Juliet’s hand happens to be close to her cheek.

Rihanna: Bitch better have my money.
Romeo:  Oh, that I were a glove upon her hand that I might touch that cheek.


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“In Broad Nightlight”

    –A synopsis for an unspeakable play  

Dramatis personae

Tyre Nichols, 29-years-old

Five police officers for the now deactivated Scorpion Unit for Nashville, Tennessee

Several prominent United States government officials

News commentators and celebrities in the United States and abroad 

Both the domestic and global public


It is a clear night in  Nashville. Body cameras fastened onto four or five men reveal a scene which evokes an anachronistic image comparable to those associated with the dark ages…BUT  THIS IMAGE IS REAL! 

So real, that the 29-year-old victim of a barbarous assault had him desperately cry out for his mom! 

This image  has everyone—except  profoundly political biased individuals—feel, think, and share similar reactions to an event which trumps political differences. 

This image should serve as a catalyst for Americans to rationally and therefore peacefully discuss and resolve their political differences. 

This image should serve as at least a pathway towards a more united United States of America. 

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Portrait of Profound Hatred

Among its many unprecedented innovations, the Internet has provided human intimacy at an international level. Here, I refer to a recent incident on television wherein Prince Harry and his wife, Meghan Marple were ‘alone in public.’ The camera was rolling; it was trained on two people for the edification of millions; its impact seemingly extemporaneous…but obviously not so.

In an unsolicited dumb show, Meghan suddenly displayed an extensive curtsy, fully intended to mock that traditional court gesture for a thousand years. Prince Harry was visibly shaken by Meghan’s ‘extemporaneous’ performance. 

At first, the couple’s body positions were such that Meghan did not see Harry’s nonplussed reaction to Meghan’s show until Meghan moved in a manner that made her face visible to Harry, at which point Harry managed a stifled smile. But Harry was ‘not amused’—as those words are mostly erroneously attributed to Queen Victoria and others —the ‘we’ being a monarch’s embodiment of the nation itself. 

Meghan’s performance within a performance was not a good one. The televised interview with the semi-royal celebrities, although palpably embarrassing, was unimportant on its surface. But notwithstanding, the serious ramifications of societal ‘class,’ past and present, Meghan’s fundamentally offensive statement expressed in the guise of humor was at the very least abysmally inappropriate.

Fortunately, Queen Elizabeth ll died before she was subjected to another Annus Horribilis moment.

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