Thursday, November 6, 2008


Reverend Jesse Jackson weeping after
Obama clinched the Presidency.

(Nov. 6, Chicago, IL) As the nation learned of Barak Obama’s historic victory many tears were shed across the land. There were tears of joy, elation, redemption and relief. Americans of all ages, colors and creeds wept for a host of reasons. Among all the tears shed that night and since, perhaps none were more bitter than those that streamed down the chubby cheeks of Jesse Jackson. The good Reverend wept like a child not because of what was won that night but rather for all that was lost. All that he lost.

Jackson was forced to confront the harsh fact that his world was suddenly, forever turned upside down and that the final blow had been dealt to him and other self appointed ‘Black leaders’ of his generation. Despite their diminishing relevance over the last ten years or more, he and his ilk, the “Professional Negroes” clung to their outdated beliefs. Jesse Jackson has made his living simply by being a Professional Negro, a talking head, a polarizing figure claiming to represent his “people” while exploiting them in the most egregious way.

As long as the Jesse Jackson’s of the world could cast blame for every socioeconomic ill facing the “black community” and pompously call for another “commission” or “blue ribbon panel” to initiate a “national dialogue” about race in America, he had an audience. Pseudo-politicians like Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton became journeymen protesters, crusaders in search of a cause. They would descend upon the scene of any incident or event anywhere in the country that had racial overtones, real or implied. The LAPD beat Rodney King, illiterate redneck trash dragged James Byrd to death in Jasper, Texas, idiotic high school tensions escalated into racial confrontation in Jena, Louisiana and, lo and behold, within hours, Jesse Jackson was on the scene. In these and many other events he would insinuate himself into the center of the action and, if the event was not already a controversy, by the time he “ministered’ to the family or “prayed in the community”, it was a full blown controversy. Professional Negroes like Jackson lived for controversy; actually lived OFF controversy; it was their livelihood. Who paid for Jesse’s elegant Armani suits, his global travels with luxury accommodations? What is the source of his obviously substantial income?

Self righteous blowhards like Reverend Jackson had their roots in the civil rights movement. They parlayed their experiences from way back then into lucrative careers as well spoken racial rabble-rousers of today. They spawned a generation of equally despicable Professional Negroes who found success in academia. As universities and colleges coast to coast suddenly felt compelled to create departments of African Studies and all sorts of off shoots and derivatives of “Afrocentric” courses, more articulate, presentable - but no less rabble-rousers - than Jackson and his peers, they became the next wave of Professional Negroes. Race baiting, affirmative action benefiting, self important, angry, arrogant ass wipes such as Michael Eric Dyson and Cornell West did not lead protests or sit-ins or strikes. They taught college classes, wrote books and lectured. They were in demand as over paid public speakers, debaters, roustabout “experts” on everything and anything “Black.” The lunacy of their thoughts and ideas, the venom of their resentments made them ever more popular among a certain element, a shrinking number of African Americans still stuck in the mire of their own failures and inadequacies. They had to have some one to blame rather than take responsibility and scum like Dyson and West more more than happy to make them “want to holler”.

As long as they could portray every social and cultural issue in terms of black and white, these charlatans thrived and multiplied. Former Black Panthers were now tenured professors, Ivy League institutions engaged in bitter struggles to lore one Professional Negro or other to their African Studies Department. It had all become so laughable for its transparency and disingenuosity except there was a carefully concealed darker underside to all the righteous indignation. West and Dyson are as far removed from the “community” that they claim to represent that they fear walking the streets of Compton, Harlem, South Philly or Bed-Stuy. They were elite, upper crust, high paid windbags exploiting their own as so many others before them. They treat their “own” people with contempt; their rhetoric reveals their inner most shame and disdain for their own people.

The Professional Negroes had become the modern day incarnation of those African tribal chiefs who sold their own people into slavery beginning 400 years ago. They are no better than those slave traders; just better educated, better dressed, more affluent, ensconced in liberal white, bleeding heart parlors, opining, waxing eloquently about the psych-social impact of rap music. What scum, what lowlifes, what arrogant pieces of shit these Professional Negroes have become.

As Barak Obama waged his long, often contentious campaign for the Presidency, where was Jesse Jackson, the Rainbow Coalition, Al Sharpton, the NAACP and all the other organizations, tax-exempt coalitions and Professional Negro associations that had been leeching the black community for so many years? They were so obviously absent because they knew what they stood to loose with an Obama victory. Already desperately clinging to the fringe of relevance or any real utility for African Americans, they saw their gravy train evaporating.

Yes, Jesse Jackson and countless other Professional Negroes wept as American elected a young, charismatic, intelligent, gifted politician to the Office of the President of the United States who just so happens to be Black. An African-American is the President-elect and the Jackson’s of the world have had the last nail pounded into their coffins. They are now among the irrelevant debris cast along the shoulders of the road to progress. Their time has come and gone; actually , it had came and went long ago. Pathetically crass opportunists like Dyson and West clung to Jim Crow and the sorry excuse that the white man was responsible for keeping the black man down. What do they bloviate about now? Who cares what they have to say? (Who ever really cared?)

Keep crying gentlemen. Cry your way into reality, get out in the real America of today. Leap out of your protective, insular campus cocoons and open your eyes. Wipe your tears away. You are simply no longer needed; not that you ever really were. You all were just shrewd, calculating conscienceless and cold enough to make “your people” believe you were.

Keep hope alive. We shall overcome. My eyes have seen the glory...

Get real.

Note: The opinions expressed above are those of the author. they do not necessarily represent the views, opinions or beliefs of The Palermo Associates, PLC.

Copyright TBC 2008 © All Rights Reserved

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