Archiv für August 2009

Taking a Stand

When even the most fantastic lies about Barack Obama’s healthcare reform don’t rock people sufficiently anymore – or when rumours about his Muslim roots or continued forgeries of his alleged Kenyan birth certificate don’t stir the pot like they once did – the last resort left to his opponents appears to be to aim their squeamishness about Obama being the President at… his penis.

As historians who specialize in animosity between the races have pointed out in numerous papers, the members of members of the darker races were always a centre of attention – and suspicion. Supposedly, because they are assumed to be huskier, more impressive, and more productive. In other words, it is hypothesised that from the moment it entered the white world, the black penis was treated as a threat. To the white penises. And the men attached to them.

In fact, some of said historians have suggested that darker penises are the real, albeit subconscious, basis of all „white“ racism. –– A tempting speculation, isn’t it? Given that also white men, being men just like any other men, define themselves – and their worth – a good bit based on their good bits.

Come on, we all know it is so: From an early age on, most men look at each other covertly, measure each other up as it were, trying to determine who amongst them is the most viral, the most strong – who among them is the alpha male. In that respect, size is a good indicator. In fact, often it is the only indicator tangible. Oh yes, it matters.

Be it fundamentally justified or not, deep down most men take it as fact that the one with the biggest one will get the best ones – women that is. Therefore, to imagine that a group of men reportedly being above their “white” average in that certain respect certainly demands respect  – and some action. Lest, as the saying goes, their women go black. And never come back.

Let’s be compassionate! What are these poor lads to do, really? – Feeling as most men do that their prospective women-folk will only come to them if they are sufficiently equipped to satisfy their demands (and desires, it is assumed) for manly protection, virility, and steadfastness. Isn’t it understandable, thus, that they give it their all to fight, suffer, and work, and that they are, in a metaphorical sense at least, hard on themselves for being the best man?

Fighting for survival, men have forever done everything to get their girl, and to keep it. Competitors with more to offer have always given them the willies and reduced their options considerably, at least in their perception. In fact, in this equation of evolutionary contest, the only way to fight a big penis would be with a bigger one. Which is harder then it seems. Because despite all those (rather recent) offers of enlargements available, most penises, I mean most men, will have to live with what they have for as long as they can hang in there.

So, to some, the best offence in that sense may be defence – and to get those dark-skinned Tom, Harry, and their dicks out of the way so they may never present themselves as the insurmountable object they are feared to be. Let’s bond, bind, and belittle the competition – it! – beforehand. Let’s talk him down, the black man (and by way of association, his penis too). Let’s withhold membership to the club from him. Let’s send him into the fields, the streets, the alleys, let’s discard him to the realm of dark fantasies of dirty animality and dreaded disease.

Therefore, at this stage, to talk about Barack’s penis may be the only option certain members of society have to hold on to; guided by primal instincts, primal fear may be all they have left. Their brains, that much seems clear from all their previous attempts to deal with the competition, are too limp to take a stand.

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Excerpt No. 1

When I die

will I

become nothing at all?

When I die

what will I be?

Will I become

next a fly

when I die?

Or a tall tree?

What will I be?

Could I be

a butterfly

when I die?

When I die

what will become of me?

When I die

will I be

never more?

Will I be gone?

A soul forlorn?

Am I just … me?

Where will I be?!

Are we one

or are we not?

What’s our lot?

Why can’t I see?

Oh, why can’t I see? …


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