Eating Georgia Peachy Keen

Note: This is written primarily for Kwame. It is an unedited first draft. When I was a kid my family took me down to family in Atlanta long before there were any highways ringing the place. Where my Papoo had a market, where tender young I played when I wasn’t rolling down the little “hill” in front of his house… not so many years, though, before Flannery O’Connor of Milledgeville said those awful things about James Baldwin to me. I feel an obligation. The need to devour something. And to sing while digesting.

Eating Georgia Peachy Keen
Dedicated to injecting jazz and blues into the electoral arena
by O’Xman

I have a different recommendation than Paul Street does for dealing with Booker T. Obama and his white counterparts et alia. That said, it wouldn’t hurt for Black Atlanta to read Street’s latest posting on ZNet prior to my arrival on Peachtree Street: s-obama-by-paul-street

In fact, it’s a distraction from what needs to be done in solidarity to focus on the Obama Never Been So White House. Whether it’s Georgia — where I’m waiting waiting waiting to hear back from contacts there, to fly fly fly into their realm — or Mississippi — which is missing the Riverboat by putting off engagement with me in the name of transitioning for the Mayor-elect in Jackson — or California, where I’m presently residing… everyone should be singing some Nina Simone version of Obama Goddamn, and meeting with me post haste to discuss some new paradigm for movement in solidarity focusing on securing significant reins of power in the state with the attitude that The White House — by definition — is the enemy.

I want to eat that Georgia Peach. Bite into it post haste.

That show that hasn’t been written yet which Nina alludes to… well, I’ve got the script all ready. Not for the footlights, but — rather — for the foot up the butt of The Never Been So White House in the real world we walk through daily. [Pause.] Without what Street pushes for us to do on the street. Sans all of the obsolete forms of protest and pushing the envelope.

I have a new paradigm for changing this Peach of a Life, this Heaven on Earth.

And — for starters, just starters, mind you — it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have The Executive of the State of Georgia tell all the black school children and ALL the children and their parents and the child molesters throughout the entire country — one and all, in fact, ‘cross the board — that Nina Simone, at one point, was not allowed back into the United States of Amnesia, was banned along the lines of what happened to Charlie Chaplin. And why. [Pause.] Regularly, vigorously and creatively.

Yes, eating Georgia Peach… that’s the reach, the Ultimate Beach to sit on and sun up on.

Bye Bye Blackbird.

I can love and understand you.


I can’t wait to talk to the janitors at Morehouse College (and their loved ones) about the excerpt from Street’s blah blah below.

“The president has been openly hostile to the notion that racial justice matters anymore for black American, Just three weeks ago, Obama gave a commencement address at historically black Morehouse College where he told young black men that, quote, “there’s no longer any room for excuses” and that, quote, “Nobody cares if you suffered some discrimination” and that, quote, “whatever you’ve gone through pales in comparison the hardships previous generations endured…and overcame..” This was after citing his position as president as an example that, quote, “barriers have come tumbling down” and that, quote, “new doors of opportunity have swung open.” Can you imagine the president saying the same thing to the graduates of an all-female college or to the graduates of a Latino/a high school?”

Who does he think he is, Bill Cosby?


Remind me how to explain why it would be good to work in solidarity with Ditto for