VOGUE copyright Conde Nast
© 2013 email@example.com
© 2013 KM Fikes
Why bother referencing our gourd when, perhaps, mo' apropos would be a root bulb like an onion. Each layer, upon layer, begs to be peeled back - and then set aflame until caramelized. Sour to sweet.
The net or the WEB. Time for a double consciousness or twoness entry. Call it a W.E.B. post - two halves of a whole
PART I: A welcoming salutation, quoting another -
alluding to optimism of encounter.
PART II: 'Numb'-ed defense - H2Omeloncholy™ as the undefeated,
waterweight champion of shadow boxing.
Two conversations, held simultaneously - upon one prolonged breath - is increasingly commonplace disscourse. How much to one's chagrin! A topic, and more so, its tone, occurs along a visceral wavelength - of sorts. When in sync, two waves create sum'in that can sing. When not, plug thy ears to shield them from discordant dissOrientalism. Is POSTnessity the culprit here? Is this multi-tasking run amok? Lil' a both?
We should all be so fortunate to have an advocate - walking tall in grace - upon an untimely exit from this terrestrial realm. Trayvon Martin's father, Tracy Martin, is proving to be one such man - as was another father.
Cosby kids - post-black poster children.
Ennis William Cosby
1969 - 1997
The only actual Cosby son - too - was taken prematurely from the fruition of his planetary potential. The parents of the late Ennis Cosby, Doctors, William and Camille Cosby, have also impeccably handled their public grief. Curiously, their tragedy has been entirely absent from the Martin trial media coverage - for reasons that leave one scratching her napps.
Camille Cosby penned an impassioned editorial accusing the 'state' of race as her son's executioner. In this same month of July, although 1998, USAToday published her open letter: America Taught My Son's Killer to Hate Blacks.
Perhaps that moment was just before her nation went all POST-y on us. Did the dawning of a new millennium evoke the tele-fantasy of Trekkies where the future of time travel is performed by an ethnic cast?
Would George Zimmerman have spotted Mikhail Markhasev? While changing a tire on the side of the road, Mr. Ennis Cosby was fatally shot by the Ukrainian immigrant teen - intent upon robbing him, who then bragged of the crime, complete with n-word.
Ennis Cosby, a dyslexic, who became a commendable special ed advocate as an accomplished educator, was the son of 'Merica's venerable comedian and philanthropist extraordinaire. The fine art benefactor, ardent jazz patron, university donor, Bill Cosby - in recent years - has been critiqued for his own critique of the ills plaguing black boys. Ennis was by far fortunate to have a learning disability diagnosed instead of dismissed as endemic to his ethnicity or worse, criminalized like a hoodie - oft accompanying Bill Cosby's collegiate sweatshirts. The Cosby's tragedy was honored for exactly what it was. It did not meander from the specificity of the horror to blame the victim by pop-perceived condition of his 'culture'.
One wavelength was observed then. Just the one.
This attention to detail allowed the moment...to be. That, in itself, revered the dignity in one family's tragedy without convolution nor conflation of the matter with the education deficit amongst those who look most like Ennis. And Trayvon.
Would that the Martin family could be spared the undue burden. Alas, these two wavelengths - in dire discrepancy - have merged in record time at unclocked speed. So here we are - in an existential equation that subtracts and divides the fact that this ain't hardly an example of a black son who should have 'held' himself differently. Either.
The Ism, barred from court proceedings, feeds upon itself now. It then regurgitates every aspect of the societal ill deemed POST.
Dr. Camille Cosby, in 1998, addressed exactly what she should have - the circumstance of her child's murder. Today, time tocks before an armed Zimmerman's next close encounter. The outrage with the verdict only engorges his tendency to profile. Mr. Zimmerman taps his trigger finger upon a holster bulging in its paranoia. Take not this blog's word. His own brother has said as much. Consider the counter narrative, shall we? Might Mr. Zimmerman
Mr. Zimmerman's 'profile' - of himself, his role and responsibility to his 'hood - derives from the dysfunction, that is the H2Omeloncholic™ morass, that is the retardation or reduction of the cypher, that deflects the healing potential of a compassionate race consciousness.
Compassion? = come on, Passion -
come to obliterate the guise of 'other' from Self
Unlike those mothers of the jury, disenfranchised by legal jargon, Ms. Cosby was able to speak Truth2Power - for a son. And be heard. Her detractors were numerous and yet post-free, she told it. She bridged the disconnect that legally bound the other verdict to defy our ethical core. This gave, at least, a more authentic option than POSTness can muster, for the instrumental few, listening outside the choir. Were they open to the humility of humanity? If so, how might Dr. Cosby's words - uncorrupted by poli-correctitude - have served that space where our evolution sparks? She knew what took her child from this dimension - that of a neutral sphere, with a benevolent bent, swayed too oft by a conscience duped by damages.
Others might have been stalled by reputational risk to the ephemeral, Cosby-cozy, post-throne. George Washington was President because establishment of another kingdom would thwart the revolutionary impulse of democracy. Slaves...but no king. If eva - by Dominant Cult's nod - there was entertainment, black royalty, Ennis Cosby was its prince. The Framers formed the articles of the Constitution. Dr. Camille Cosby, in one, controversial, USAToday article, transformed - too - the notion of privilege for a fictional
She did not indulge her grief as much as suspend it. She cleared away enough tears to keep an eye on the mauve polka-dot melon in the middle of da room. This millennium's POSTnessity bans that practice - making a haunted hybrid of the H2Omelon vine to crawl in, around, over, and eventually strangle, otherwise fertile area. Wavelengths then, are left so twisted, that only a blog post - in two parts - can Afropick at dry tangles. And just that - aggravating a loose napp here n' there - offering no resolution. Just fuzz, barely there - contrasting a snapping comb. 'Tis yet another fallacy of race dialogue - that a finite solution can be extracted or a pre/post period exists within encyclopedic dates.
Although Ennis Cosby shunned celebritdom's spotlight, he remained renowned for an infectious IT factor. 'IT' ingratiated others to break the wall in social introduction, where we are strangers no longer. Mr. Cosby was birthmarked with an apparent gregariousness - which we should all be lucky or loving enough - ourselves - to know. If Mikhail Markhasevi had not robbed him at gunpoint, might he have heard the phrase Mr. Cosby conferred upon many? The son who inspired the beloved character, Theo, on a situation comedy that saved a network, whilst obliterating a stereotype, was known to greet just about anyone with the cosmically connective greeting:
In honor of the eternally young Cosby's infectious affability, there has been an alleged turn - or tweak - of events. If not 360 degrees, arguably 180 - at least in consciousness, where it counts beyond degree. 'Tis what tends to happen when peops keep it real and get on down to having the hard conversation less with others, than with themselves. When charged and convicted, the Cosby family negated the death penalty for Mr. Markhasev. He is reportedly repentant these days. He has refused to engage in the appeal or parole process. Serving the full term of his sentence seems to have become the conscience of his culpability. If sincere - and oh...would that such is so - one cannot help but to be stunned by the irony. Far extending the benefit of doubt: Does a Mikhail Markhasev, professed to be reformed by authentic remorse, pose more or less of a threat than Mr. Zimmerman? My good peops, would you rather have your son, brother, cousin, student, neighbor...friend...meet the parolee - aware of his internal error and apparently, committed to its consequence? George Zimmerman was exonerated of a fatal shooting. His release? That is a concurrent life sentence to an ill, light years beyond his own existence, the young Martin's - gone - the family who grieves, but mostly? The steps of that fateful 'walk home' are traces left of prints in the sand lapped by our shared socio-karma. Such weight - of the world's wet sand - tends to carry upon the shoulders. In this case, one wonders how it rests in the clarity of conscience or in the empathy of heart as it proceeds - right back - on voluntary, post-trial patrol?
a clever as compassionate critique
on the implausibility of
Til our next 'post', feast upon produce in season...
© 2013 KM Fikes
© 2013 firstname.lastname@example.org
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