Our Black Backs and Our Crack at the Reigns of Power Without Reining Back Our Hunger

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Our Black Backs and Our Crack at the Reins of Power Without Reining Back Our Hunger
Dedicated to the hunger of Bobby Sands which is the hunger of us all, always….
by O’Xman

“The handwriting’s on the wall, but like in ‘Hunger’, it’s all covered over with cell block shit. We need not worry about smashing down such walls to take control of our lives.”
Enda Walsh

“I Never Loved A Man” is inserted here only until some so-called minority people send me some serious sounds of their own, at which time it will be replaced. It’s given its tentative position within this piece to underscore that once we get rolling YOU will not be alone, my so-called minority people. For the vast majority of the 99% of our population that’s getting ripped off with you at present will wake up, and join hands in solidarity to secure our God-given glory on earth.

There are people in whose hands it’s not a stretch to put one’s life. Steve McQueen, that beautiful Black Brit, director the incomparable Hunger, is one of those life-saving souls. Heaven on earth. I say all this without really knowing him… in person… with real life experience behind the blah blah. That admitted, I know what I’m talking about with the presumptuous statement above. He resonates singularly in both his work and his interviews. Sing-u-lar-ly.

All the attempted lyricism aside, there really are people on this earth who are trustworthy. Who would have our backs, would watch out for us. Not talking ’bout saints. I’m talking about the fact that when I go on the streets — which is all the time — engaging people in dialogue about taking over the State of California with a leadership of a dozen unaffiliated, non-politician citizens they invariably belt out, “Oh no one’s trustworthy, absolute power corrupts absolutely. I’m not into leaders.” And talkin’ ’bout the fact that they’re dead wrong.

Well, I’m not into leaders either in the sense that they mean. But I’m also not into that counterproductive cynicism which lumps everyone into the Big Corruptible Basket… with the all-too-easy Big Verbal Brushstroke and convenient dismissal. That really comes down to being an excuse for quietism. A downer that runs me down.

Let’s start with what I do know. To wit, I am not corruptible in that way. I don’t want to be in a position of power, but if I were I can tell you, without reservation or hesitation, that I wouldn’t hand down shit to the public as per what’s routine for Jerry Brown, Meg Whitman or any CAREER POLITICIAN… by definition. I know myself that well, yes. And I’m gonna guess with my life on the line that Big Black Steve McQueen ain’t the only one on the streets who’s cut of the same cloth. Those are the kind of kind souls who we want to comprise our core group… doing one of two things. [This is NOT a vanguard along traditional lines; you can be directing the whole shebang with everyone else.]

THOSE TWO OPTIONS, POSSIBLY OUR ONLY OPTIONS:

As per http://oxtogrind.org/archive/674, we need to do something in solidarity which follows a new paradigm immediately. We need to jump out of our little corners where we’re getting personal satisfaction that doesn’t quite cut it for the Big Picture.

On that note, I give you Plan A and Plan B whilst remaining open — I’m not attached to either one — to YOUR GAME PLAN. [Got one we can milk?]:

A. If you can bear to enter the realm of politics, I ask you to glance at TOSCA… not rushing through the blah blah, for it was created out of sweat and tears 24×8 for well over a year. Actually, it’s the culmination of an activist lifetime. Do give it some halting respect, if you will, before rejecting it whole hog. It can be tweaked to suit your tastes perhaps. This is all legal and non-violent.

B. If you want to go the route of massive civil disobedience and let the chips fall where they may, then I’ve got a proposal featuring unprecedented activist fare along these lines. [They're not the lines that are created when you march in circles with placards, or get bashed over the head with batons, btw.]

You choose. The only other alternatives might be going to bed with resignation, apathy, cynicism, ignorance and/or atomization for good. But not for any good that I can see.

Seriously, it’s the end of the world sans such an effort.

A very sweet elderly woman activist dropped by my house today during the final moment of the World Cup Final to deliver some flyers to be handed out addressing the local EMF/RF issues raised at http://emfsafetynetwork.org. I’ve got the most hysterical, instructive stories to relate which bounce off of my contact with her. But I’m so drained of energy at this point from having tried to lure her into my macroscopic plan for action, I’ll just say that — as per the previous posting, “On Big Little Corners and Turning Corners” — we might as well all turn our backs on one another and start smokin’ crack if we don’t break our mother f’n back to blend whatever our present priorities are with some unprecedented, singular effort in solidarity. Sing-u-lar.

That’ll take people like Big Black McQueen to form a Dream Team core of activists.

To wake the walking dead.

I have a hunger.

Call me at 831-688-8038 in Aptos, California… in the Vienna Woods where people are dropping like flies from the nearby cell tower radiation. Or email me at tosca.2010@yahoo.com.
P.S. I figure that the Black Community is pregnant with possibilities since the people are faced with immediate life and death issues, and are very clear about a lot of fundamental crap that my caucasian neighbors don’t acknowledge. Wake me at any hour.