Upsetting
Monday, December 22, 2003
 
There’s upsetting on the streets of Kingston, but you wouldn’t know it at the white-sand resorts over the hills. The real Jamaica. Come to Jamaica, come in Jamaica, the ads say.

White man, be careful, remember your safe European home. Mr. Brown means business.

On the advertising machine, there is news of earthquake weather again in California. Some people die. Their families have their holidays forever ruined. Absolutely ruined.

It was Mother Nature working out a small kink, a deep-tissue massage for the grand ol’ dame. A ball of water and mud, spinning faster than you can imagine. Her malignant inhabitants forget they are her guests. Instead, they try to control and dominate their fellow tumors.

The shooting was justified. It always is. The guy had a pitchfork and he’d been drinking paint thinner all day. Could’ve bench-pressed a Volkswagen. Funny how those who criticize the cops are the ones who say joining The Force would be the last thing they’d ever do.

You take the officer-assistance call in the Fifth Ward or Cabrini Green or Valencia Park.

Or in Kingston.

See how you stack up against Duppy the Conqueror and the rest of Trenchtown’s finest. Hell, Lee Perry was only about 5 feet tall, and he did bench-press Volkswagens.

Airplanes crisscross the sky through invisible vectors, and the families on the ground plead that theirs will not be the airliner that is hastily converted into a weapon of mass destruction. Something is coming, the advertising machine says. Your government will do everything to protect you.

The control playbook being run at maximum efficacy.

They say that there is chatter like there was before.

The man on the advertising machine says that something has spooked your government. This is why they put on the brave face. The stomach-churning wait for the inexorable.

Until the time of his death, no man can be sure of his courage, a Frenchman once wrote.

Tell that to the teeming streets of Cairo. See how they respond in Kingston.

The airliners will not be pointed at Santo Domingo or Marrakesh.

Bigger fish to fry, pet.
 
Comments: Post a Comment

<< Home
Formerly GOD'S LONELY MAN

ARCHIVES
08/01/2002 - 09/01/2002 / 09/01/2002 - 10/01/2002 / 10/01/2002 - 11/01/2002 / 11/01/2002 - 12/01/2002 / 12/01/2002 - 01/01/2003 / 01/01/2003 - 02/01/2003 / 02/01/2003 - 03/01/2003 / 03/01/2003 - 04/01/2003 / 04/01/2003 - 05/01/2003 / 05/01/2003 - 06/01/2003 / 06/01/2003 - 07/01/2003 / 07/01/2003 - 08/01/2003 / 08/01/2003 - 09/01/2003 / 09/01/2003 - 10/01/2003 / 10/01/2003 - 11/01/2003 / 11/01/2003 - 12/01/2003 / 12/01/2003 - 01/01/2004 / 01/01/2004 - 02/01/2004 / 02/01/2004 - 03/01/2004 / 03/01/2004 - 04/01/2004 / 04/01/2004 - 05/01/2004 / 05/01/2004 - 06/01/2004 / 06/01/2004 - 07/01/2004 / 04/01/2005 - 05/01/2005 / 07/01/2005 - 08/01/2005 / 08/01/2005 - 09/01/2005 / 09/01/2005 - 10/01/2005 / 10/01/2005 - 11/01/2005 /


Powered by Blogger