8 confessions from a white guy

I’ve been passionately reunited with boxing by the super sib’s, Vitali & Wladimir Klitschko.

I can’t comprehend the hypnotic allure to country music, and in the same thought sequence, contend that Rap should even qualify as a legitimate musical genre.

I wonder why black individualism was revoked, and on what authority. Who can also verify the credentials of those who decide what’s “black”.

I don’t consider the deconstruction of the English language a dialect, a viable speech or creditable form of communication.

If Rocky was black, and the movie managed to avoid being propelled to Net Flix, it may have enjoyed a mild success. Maybe as a “gritty and bold” portrayal of an African American savant forced to box as his only means of survival. Or at least that would be the narrative as described by some white artsy beta male.

I also think that until I begin receiving monetary support, retroactively, from deceased former slave owners, I should refuse to accept the responsibility or ire for any of their actions.

Sometimes I feel as though the liberal mindset in media, academia, entertainment, and so on, treats both races like children. The whites being the biological child, expected to do good and only receiving attention for negative behavior, often becoming resentful with misdirected anger. While black child, the step child, is over compensated for and held to a different standard. When both are prodded out to perform parlor tricks; the white child plays Beethoven’s fifth to a yawn and a “Don’t forget to clean your room”. The black stepchild then attempts chopsticks and is met with enthusiastic astonishment and a patronizing round of applause…