The ballad of Pat Tillman...

"...captain america's been torn apart, now he's a court jester with a broken heart..."
--The rock band Guns N' Roses, from the song 'Paradise City'

Patrick Tillman was born on November 6th, 1976 in Fremont, California. He was the older of three sons and at an early age, he showed an exceptional aptitude for the game of football.

So much so, that he led the high school he attended, Leland High, to the Central Coast Football Division 1 Championship. Shortly thereafter, he went to Arizona University on a football scholarship.

Tillman excelled as a linebacker in Arizona U.'s football program even though he was considered short for the position. His exemplary stats helped his team go undefeated after he got there, and he helped his team get to the 'Rose Bowl' that year.

In 1997 he was voted a 'Pacific-10' Conference defensive player of the year; this award is usually given to athletes who not only excel physically but academically as well. 

Tillman also was a marketing major who graduated in three and a half years with a 3.85 GPA. He also won a myriad of other academic awards and was inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame in 2010.  

Eventually, Tillman was drafted to the Arizona Cardinals football organization in the NFL; he played the 'safety' position on the team and started ten of his first sixteen games in his rookie season. 

At one point in his career, he turned down a $9 million dollar contract from the St. Louis Rams to stay with the Cardinals. 

Pat had it all, he was a muscular, square-jawed, blond-haired and blue-eyed american man. He looked like the walking embodiment of the aryan/viking ideal; and he was a football hero. 

Yes, he lived a charmed life; but he was infected with a disease he didn't know he had. And this wasn't a physical ailment, but a mental one...let me explain. 

Pat was infected with the sickness of an extreme american patriotism; one that would cost him more than he ever imagined. Here's how...

After the attacks that were staged...I mean perpetrated on New York City after September 11th, 2001; Pat was so enraged by the fictitious story of Al-Qaeda attackers flying those planes into the World Trade Center, that he left his football career and immediately joined the american armed forces to get some payback for his country. 

Now, here's where I'll interject a bit of a historical clinic on the forces behind who created the 'Taliban' and 'Al-Qaeda'. 

Back in the eighties and nineties, when the 'Cold War' between america and the soviets was still raging; and again, this was another case of the white elites controlling both teams so they could ultimately win the game, organizations like the CIA and the MI6...or MI5 at the time, or whatever number they were up to, both funded and armed south-east asians to essentially kick the communist forces out of places like Iraq, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan, etc.  

These forces essentially became the Taliban, Al-Qaeda, the Ba'athist party, etc. So basically, these are american enemies who were created by the american government. 

And please don't take my word for this, look this up yourself!

After bootcamp, Pat enlisted in the 'Ranger Assessment and Selection Program' and completed its course in late 2002. He was then assigned to the 'Second Ranger Battalion' in Fort Lewis, Washington. 

After participating in 'Operation Iraqi Freedom', in September 2003, Pat entered Ranger School at Fort Benning, Georgia; and graduated on November 28th, 2003. 

After being redeployed to Afghanistan, Pat was reported killed by enemy fire on April 22, 2004. But after an investigation by the u.s. Army Criminal Investigation Command, it was discovered that Pat was killed by other american troops! 

Or what this government has now termed 'friendly fire'.

So I've said all that to say this...the american social order and its status quo are so toxic and poisonous that it often kills the very people it's designed to protect, white folks. 

Now, if it's this detrimental to the white populous, tell me, how dangerous is it to the Black Diaspora? 

Just the other day I was talking to a white guy about political matters, and I started talking about the dastardly deeds of the 'rich elites'; then, another white guy who eavesdropped on our conversation asked, "What's wrong with the rich...?"

The Pat Tillman story is just one example of what's wrong with the rich. Problem is, the white guy who asked this question couldn't make a distinction between himself and the 'rich (white) elites'.

See, he thinks because he's white, the rich white elites still represent him; because he suffers from the same delusional sickness that Pat Tillman did, he doesn't realize that the white elite (i.e. rich white folks) don't give a damn about him. And he never will.

All working class and poor white people wanna' think is--white is good, Black is bad and america's the best country in the world.  

Unfortunately, too many Black people are caught up in this lunacy as well.

And I'm not even considering the conditioning that Black people in america get to hate themselves and each other. 

So, if you're hell bent on adoring white folks and their institutions, this isn't the Blog for you; furthermore, this is why my Blog rails so much against the american social order and all of its machinations. 

And this is why I'm constantly stating how imperative it is that the Black Diaspora erase the self-hating sickness that complements being an anglophilic american. 

It's not gonna' be easy to recondition ourselves out of this self-hatred people, but our very existence and that of our children depend on it. 

So let's get to work!

Sutekh,

MontUHURU Mimia

P.S.

If you'd like to read about two examples of Black men who were infected and affected with this insipid american patriotism, read about Nicky Barnes and Frank Lucas (Yes, 'American Gangster' Frank Lucas); here.

White supremacist conditioning and a lovely afternoon at the library...

"Give us a boy 'til the age of seven and we'll show you the man."
--The Jesuits

Firstly, I'd like to apologize to the readers of this Blog for the paucity of posts as of late.

I've been in the midst of moving, along with a myriad of other 'life' problems I'm dealing with; one of which is, I'm currently between ISP companies right now: so, I'm doing the majority of my Blogging from the annals of my local library. 

But rest assured, I'll be operating at my max capacity in the very near future...so stay tuned, 'cause I've got a lot of cool topics I'll cover soon.

With that said, here's my latest post...enjoy!
 

The other day, I was at my local library and I had my laptop in tow.

Now, I knew from the previous hours of using it, how low its battery's power was; and when I looked around to all the seats near electrical outlets, I realized they were all occupied.

Fortunately, my local branch is mid-sized and has a couple of sections to traverse. So, reluctantly, I headed for the children's section 'cause it was the least crowded.

Now, I don't care for being in the company of pre-adolescents, but this was an emergency.

There were some kindergarteners roaming about their section, so I tried to look as innocuous and nonthreatening as possible; which was a lost cause on every front. But it wasn't a matter of parents or kids giving me any attitude, it was my feeling hyper-conspicuous that kept me unsettled.

But after a good while of finding a particular table to sit at, I gotta' admit the section's vibe was kinda' nice. After the better part of half an hour, the sun broke free from some oppressive cloud cover and glistened through the area's floor to ceiling windows. Right beyond the paned glass was an assortment of potted plants, angular shrubs and small trees making the area look more like a topiary; and directly across the street was a white church that seemed to glow in the sun's gaze.

The combination of the section's tan colored carpet and the mahogany desk I sat at was making this library feel more like a large Starbucks.

That's when what looked like a five year old boy, traipsed over to a section of books adjacent to my table. His father followed closely behind.

After a couple of minutes the two started conversing about different books. That's when this young white boy said “Dad, you know the southern part of the Sudan is one of the best areas (of Africa) to visit 'cause the people there are the most civil.”

Now, I hadn't heard the earlier part of the conversation and I'm paraphrasing what this young guy said, but the comment's inflection spoke to what he'd been taught and had been conditioned to believe about Africa. And what he'd obviously heard was what we've all heard about our mother continent, and that's how famine plagued and uncivilized its Black citizens are.

The father was a bit dismayed about his son's lack of discretion, but only for a second, 'cause right afterwards, they both returned to looking at books.

Then the young white boi said, “You know Dad, there are two Santas, one is white and one's Black.” The father didn't respond but you could tell he wanted his son to shut up. See, what the child didn't know, was he was exposing what kind of parenting he was getting from his father; and how he was being indoctrinated into a sublime form of bigotry.

The white boi reiterated, “Dad, the two santas are from opposite polls, one south and one north, the white santa is from the north pole...the African santa is from the south pole...and he's Black.”

That's when the father ushered his son to another section; inwardly, I was like, wow.

Mind you, this kid looked to be only about five or six, but what he already learned and was conveying to his father was how there's something intrinsically wrong with being Black. The kid hadn't developed an internal filter yet, so he was just saying what came to mind. And again, he was exposing what his father taught him.

That's when I thought about the Jesuit's saying that I wrote at the top of this post.

By the time a person is five or six years old, they have the personality and character traits that will ultimately follow them throughout their lives, unless they do the subconscious work to recondition themselves out of whatever trait they don't like.

It blew my mind how this kid already got the message that he shouldn't like Black people. And his father obviously felt the same way, but he didn't want to air out his mental dirty laundry.

Then I looked over at the church I mentioned earlier and noticed it was painted white; and even though this church had a weather-beaten look to it, and could have definitely used a new paint job in a different hue, the proprietors seemed not to want to change its exterior.

And the church had a clever saying on its marquee; it read: Seven days without prayer makes one weak. Now, even though that's catchy, it's telling of how this white supremacist message spewed by the church and other institutions, is one the white elite want us to carry with us everyday and everywhere.

This made the church's mission, as well as the mission of every institutional facet of the white supremacist social order, even clearer to me.

Why do you think we're given a white bottle of milk to drink as infants?

Understand, cow's milk is strictly for its calves, it's not suppose to be for human consumption. But we're given this so throughout our lives so we'll always have positive connotations to the color white...moreover, we'll always associate the color white to thoughts of wholesomeness, safety, and if we're given these bottles while we're with our mothers, we get the message that this color is necessary to life...like our mothers are.

Then, several minutes after the white father and son left, something else happened.

A lone Black man was looking over another book shelf near my table, and I shamefully admit, what came to my mind first was...here comes trouble.

I shook my head clear.

See, I can spout out all these posts about reconditioning the subconscious I want, but I still have work to do on myself; 'cause I still have prejudices against my own people I need to recondition myself out of.

A lyric popped into my head from a heavy metal band I once listened to: “Agony is the price that you pay in the end, domination consumes you and calls you a friend...it's a twisted foe.”

This is the plight of every person, especially every Black person, living in this global white supremacist social order.

And like myself...we've got a lot of work to do to resolve this brainwashed condition we're in.

So, like I've said a thousand times, it's imperative the Black diaspora work to get ourselves back to a place of loving one another...ASAP!! And it's imperative that we do the meditation and other mental exercises that will help us accomplish this.

'Cause we desperately need to internalize one of our African ancestors great ancient axioms, and that is: IF THERE'S NO ENEMY WITHIN, THE ENEMY WITHOUT CAN DO US NO HARM.

Word!!

Later,

MontUHURU Mimia