Blaming liberals again makes me want to grab a torch and run downtown and say, "Fake News" -- which is actually "Fuck You" in Trump Speak. I've been to hundreds of protest in my life, from animal protection to the Bush Wars and all points in-between, and in most of the protest there is usually a guy everyone wonders, "What the Hell Is He Doing Here?" In a protest here in Texas a few years ago, a guy with a cowboy hat threw a stone at a news building. We pounced on him like White on Donald Trump, told him to get on his horse and ride the hell out of Dallas. He was an instigator trying to make us look bad and we knew it. In smaller marches it's easy to see these assholes, in marches the size of today's BLM, it's not. There are going to be radicals, some radical left and some radical right; those who want chaos, and of course, the looting criminal element who just want a pair of new shoes before things go back to normal. More power to them, the capitalist pigs steal shoes from us every day, what's the difference?
We (liberals) don't want chaos, we want peace, love, equal rights, fair pay with an equal wealth distribution, and they know it and so will bring on the hate to make us look bad. It's worked in the past, in the Detroit protest of 1968 when the term "riots" came in to being to defame the protesters, I was one of the kids living on the East Side of Detroit. There was a curfew. I would play with my black friends until 6pm and then we'd go back to our warring families. We didn't care about the hate, we just wanted to play with our toys and be left alone. I often wonder about my black friends that I played with as a kid. Did they get out of the inner-city Detroit alive as I did? Did they get the breaks I did? I dropped out of high school, joined the Navy, moved to Dallas, and being "white," blended in... somewhat.
I had white privileges, there is no doubt. I got jobs with a GED where others had college degrees. I was pulled over by the police more than once with a belly-full-of-beer and talked my way out of it with a handful of mints in my mouth. I got fired from a job at nineteen as a security guard for sleeping on the job, and within a few months was working as a supply clerk for a manufacturing company making twice the money. It sure paid being white.
There's no doubt in my mind that this journey would have been tougher if I had been black.
White Silence is Violence!