Tag Archives: inspiration

A Deeply Personal, Angry Rant

November 26, 2014 D.A. Adams 26 Comments

I’m probably the whitest white guy you could hope to meet, so honestly, I probably have no business saying anything about the happenings in Ferguson. But I’m going to speak my mind anyway because I’m pissed. I’m pissed for my black friends who once again feel as if our justice system has failed them. Before any single one of my white friends chimes in with a “yeah but,” shut the fuck up and listen. I hate the expression white privilege as much as the next person because there hasn’t been anything privileged about my life at all, but I’m absolutely aware that if I’m detained by the police for any reason whatsoever, if I’m polite and respectful, most likely I will get out of it unscathed. My black friends DO NOT have that luxury. If you disagree with that simple fact, fuck off and get out of my sphere. Permanently. You won’t be missed.

I’m pissed at the latent and overt expressions of racism I’ve seen coming from white people ever since Michael Brown was gunned down in the street unarmed. If you think he deserved to die because he was a “thug,” fuck off and get out of my sphere. I’ll guarantee I was just as much of a smartass punk at 18 as he was and probably did ten times worse, and I didn’t deserve to be shot. Besides, this whole thing isn’t just about him. It’s about the thousands of black men who have been murdered by authority figures who never face punishment for their excessive uses of force. Michael Brown has just become the symbol for that oppression. If you think jokes about work boots not being looted is funny, fuck off. If you want to make analogies to OJ or the poor kids murdered in Knoxville or use this as any other excuse to express your internal racism against minorities, fuck off. Just because you don’t use the word nigger doesn’t mean you aren’t a racist.

I’m pissed that my white friends can’t see that their “yeah buts” are exactly the response the powers that be want. As long as working class whites are fine with working class blacks being treated like animals, caged in the prisons of the slums with little hope of escape outside of athletics, we will never push back against the oppression of the wealthy elite. As long as we allow race to divide us, we will never be anything but suckers and doormats for a system that fucks us over and drains us dry on a daily basis. And that is exactly what they are counting on. If you believe that THIS SYSTEM as it stands is what’s best for the average American, you are a delusional fool. Sorry to be the one to break that to you, but any system that allows billionaires to pay poverty wages to working people while receiving billions in corporate welfare and simultaneously dodging their tax responsibilities is morally bankrupt and doomed for bloody civil war. You can accept that lesson from thousands of years of human history or you can bury your head in apple pie and sing Lee Greenwood tunes.

I’m pissed that we are controlled and ruled be an ever shrinking wealthy elite who buy politicians and rewrite laws into their favor and then blame the rest of us for not succeeding in spite of the game being rigged in their favor. I’m pissed that conservatives want to blame everyone but big business for the mulching of America, and I’m pissed at liberals for being too spineless to actually do anything about it. I’m pissed at myself for not hoisting the black flag in my youth, when my body was still strong and virile enough to fight for real change. I’m pissed that now I’m virtually powerless to do anything of substance except write angry blog posts.

To my black friends, I’m sorry I failed you. I tried to build bridges; I tried to make a difference. While I know I made the effort, ultimately, I have failed at making any dent in the poison of ignorance and racism once again consuming this nation. To my white friends who harbor latent racism in your hearts (if you have in any way uttered that Michael Brown got what he deserved or that “those people” are acting just like you thought they would, I am talking directly to you. Yes, you) fuck off and get out of my sphere. Whatever time I have left on this earth will not be spent on people mired in the divisive charade of hate that is racism. From now on, my time and energy is reserved for those who want to unite all of us working poor who want to shrug off the yoke of oppression and ensure that equality and justice are for every single person in this country, not just certain groups. If you aren’t in favor of that, fuck off. You won’t be missed.

General Posts

Talking Smack

September 23, 2014 D.A. Adams 4 Comments

I made this vow over the weekend, and it should come as no surprise to anyone who really knows me: Regardless of my diagnosis on Wednesday, I will fight this neurological disease with everything in me. It has no idea the mistake it made coming at me, son. And once I’m back to feeling like myself, I’m hitting the world like an emeffing tornado. Stand back and watch because the show will be entertaining!

General Posts

Afternoon Whining

September 18, 2014 D.A. Adams 2 Comments

I’ve forgotten what it feels like to feel normal. I don’t mean in a behavioral sense; I’ve never fit into society’s definition of normal, which by the way is a myth at best. No, I mean I’ve forgotten what it feels like not to have this neurological condition. I’m aware that not so long ago I had energy and could concentrate on intricate tasks and could function at a high level, but now, because of the multitude of issues I’m dealing with, I can’t remember how it feels to feel healthy. It’s similar to how in the summer when the heat is oppressive and sweat coats your skin it’s hard to recall the chill of winter and the need for a sweater. I know I once felt strong and virile, but the memory seems as if it belonged to someone else’s life.

Mentally, I was not designed to be disabled. I know there are people in this world who would relish the opportunity to lie in bed or sit at the computer most of the day, and if I could concentrate long enough to write throughout the day, I might be able to adjust. But I am not the kind of person who likes idleness. I’m happiest when I feel productive. Every time I look at the yard and see how far behind I’ve fallen on the upkeep, my stomach aches. As I watch all of the progress I had made on the property being reclaimed by nature, a piece of me cries out internally. As the days roll by and book five still isn’t complete, I just want to scream. I have too much to do to feel this sick.

Once I have a confirmed diagnosis, I’ll hopefully be able to receive treatment and feel better. Once I have that diagnosis, I’ll try to describe and explain in more detail what the symptoms are like. For now, I don’t want to go into much detail because I don’t feel like speculation on my part or anyone else’s will be helpful. I know people mean well when they ask if I’ve considered X, but it’s really not productive. Most likely, yes, either I or one of the doctors has considered X, and it has already been ruled out. Again, I know you mean well, but after three years, we’ve covered all the easy stuff two and three times.

I also don’t like being at the mercy of the system. So far, all it has done is let me down at every step of my life, so I don’t have much hope for it to take care of me now. That said, I’m blessed and grateful for the dear friends who have reached out to help me navigate this new reality. You know who you are, and I’m more appreciative of you than I can express. Once I have beaten this illness and am back to my rowdy self, I hope I can repay the kindnesses. That’s all for now. Physically, I’m quite uncomfortable today.