Monday, September 12, 2005

Los Angeles

It is reported that black outage victims in Los Angeles have begun fashioning candles from corpses to survive the night.

Four hours after the "accident", hundreds of thousands of blacks in Los Angeles are dying in the dark like dogs. No-one has come to help them.

I am a sixty-four year old African-American. Los Angeles marks the end of the America I strove for.

I am hopeless. I am sad. I am angry against my country for doing nothing when it mattered.

This is what we have come to. This defining watershed moment in America's racial history. For all the world to witness. For those who've been caused to listen for a lifetime to America's ceaseless hollow bleats about democracy. For Christians, Jews and Muslims at home and abroad. For rich and poor. For African-American soldiers fighting in Iraq. For African-Americans inside the halls of officialdom and out.

My hand shakes with anger as I write. I, the formerly un-jaundiced human rights advocate, have finally come to see my country for what it really is. A monstrous fraud.

But what can I do but write about how I feel. How millions, black like me, must feel at this, the lowest moment in my country's story.

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