I have never wanted to Clothesline From Hell someone so badly in my life

Long story short: racial activists barge into busy brunch establishments on a Sunday morning to flash mob protest over the shooting of a black man by local police.

I’ll be honest, this wouldn’t have gotten under my skin if one of the places that were hit up wasn’t a place that I’d recently discovered for myself, enjoyed immensely, and would gladly go back in the future for weekend breakfast.

But it’s shit like this that absolutely baffles me, and wonders if the people who do this kind of protesting are even aware of the people that they’re protesting for?  Are they even aware of the hypocrisy they’re also perpetuating concurrently?

Case in point, this group that protested at all these restaurants this past weekend, they’re protesting over the fact that a black man was shot and killed just days earlier.  Basically declaring the incident as solely an act based on skin color, and that naturally, “black lives matter.”

Never mind the hypocritical irony of declaring one group of peoples’ lives more important than everyone else’s, the fact of the matter is that I’m not entirely sure that these protesters bothered to check why the cops gunned down the guy they gunned down, but probably just checked the news to make sure that it was in fact, a black guy.

The truth is, the slain suspect was indeed black, but he was also in violation of probation.  Probation for a repeated history of incidents with the law, several of them which involved the suspect trying to ram police officers with vehicles.  Make no mistake, this guy who died, was no saint in his own right to begin with.  And protesters are claiming that the police killed an unarmed man.  Excuse me, a 3,000 pound vehicle, and a Maserati no less, easily becomes a weapon when the driver has intent of charging at human beings.

And given his history for basically trying to ram cars into police officers, I can’t say I blame the cops for opening fire on him, when he was basically, trying to ram into human beings with a 3,000 pound vehicle.

But let’s not let facts get in the way of trying to spread an agenda.

Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do if I were sitting at a restaurant, trying to enjoy breakfast and a hot coffee, and a whole bunch of people barge into the restaurant and start chanting rhetoric about racism.  Given the fact that their actions agitated people to the point where some got up and left without paying, I’d say that the only people hurt by their bullshit activism are the restaurants themselves.  These people will go about and tell people what happened where, and the chain reaction could hurt the business worse than it could hurt any of these mindless sheep, trying to send a message by deliberately making people uncomfortable:

“Disrupt traditionally white spaces that maybe are uncomfortable that racism is still a factor in our society,” said (an activist).

I actually think it’s hilarious that this quote came from a white guy.  And by naming “white spaces,” he’s already kind of propagating the problem of racism.  He’s like the poster boy for self-loathing white privilege who resent the fact that they’re white, or rather, they don’t have the privilege to bitch about racism, so they basically join sheep of other ethnicities so that they can feel what it’s like to bitch about racial inequality too.

This is also the guy that when I saw him speaking, felt the most massive and uncontrollable desire to Clothesline From Hell, if I ever came across this guy.  Because I sure as shit wouldn’t attack a black woman; not just because I can’t hit a woman, I’m pretty sure a black woman would be able to fight back, and put that fear of possible defeat into my head.

The bottom line is that I don’t like to throw around the word “hate” so much, but I think I hate all these people who are barging into restaurants and spewing bullshit rhetoric about racism.  There are far more losers than winners in these situations, and ultimately, they’ll get away with it every time, while diners’ breakfasts are uncomfortably ruined, and the businesses themselves will be associated with being a place where angry black protests occur, and people might walk out on checks.

Most of all, they’re fucking with breakfast.  Weekend breakfast.  Weekend breakfast is supposed to be amongst the most relaxing and enjoyable meals possible.  And people going around trying to deliberately ruin it for others are among the biggest scum on the planet.

Thoughts on WM31’s main event

I would never have expected Wrestlemania’s main event to have been as gripping as it was.  Honestly, I tend to temper my expectations for Wrestlemanias in general, but ultimately, I treat them like I’m watching RAW; skim and glaze through everything, but typically ignore the main event.

For the most part, all of Wrestlemania 31 was pretty formulaic, and nothing was really that big of a surprise.  I would have liked to have seen more Cesaro, Axelmania and Damien Mizdow, and it’s kind of an insult that both the tag team match and the Andre the Giant Battle Royale were put onto the pre-show, but whatever.

I had higher hopes for John Cena vs. Rusev, and was a little disappointed to see that they broke my theorized rule of Wrestlemania, which is needing to hit three finishing maneuvers before the match can be decided.  I didn’t expect much from any other match, be it the Divas, the Intercontinental ladder match, and definitely not Undertaker vs. Bray Wyatt.

Sadly, things like the Rock and Ronda Rousey squaring off against Triple H and Stephanie McMahon was more captivating programming than many of the actual matches.

Needless to say, when the main event rolled around, I couldn’t help but feel impending dread at the dregs this match was going to be, and wondering how Seth Rollins could salvage it.  There was no way in my mind that Brock Lesnar and Roman Reigns could have a decent wrestling match.

Apparently, that’s what the bookers might have thought too, because they didn’t book a wrestling match, or at least that’s what it turned out to look like.  And that’s what ultimately made it as good as it was, completely unbeknownst to my expectations.  And then, did Seth Rollins come to save the day.

When Brock Lesnar was bloodied a minute unto the match and then countered with his signature F5 followed by what was around 20 suplexes, coining the phrase “Suplex City, Bitch” in the process, the match became way more intriguing than I thought it could possibly be.  It became questionable as the minutes ticked on at what point the decision to stop wrestling, and the decision to start hitting each other as hard as they could began; wrestling matches are all scripted, that story is very much out, but it was apparent that both Lesnar and Reigns were delivering some pretty stiff punches and knees to one another, and such wasn’t lost by WWE cameras, as they made sure to show super-slow-mo replays of just how brutal some of their blows were landing.

By the time Rollins emerged to cash in the Money in the Bank, it was almost more of a disappointment, because that symbolized the nearing of the end of what had become a very interesting match between Lesnar and Reigns.  I was actually hoping for more one-on-one between two guys I didn’t think could have a captivating match, and figured there would be another F5, ten more suplexes, two more Superman punches and probably five spears.

I have to give credit to where it’s due, because this main event blew me away with just how good and entertaining it turned out to be.  I’m clearly in the camp that believes Reigns is indeed too green for the world title, and even though he didn’t win the match, I have to admit that I have a tremendous more amount of respect for the performer than I did going into the match.  Although he didn’t win the title, he still had a very strong showing, and as much as it might agitate those smarks who want to see him buried now that Wrestlemania’s behind us, that simply is not going to happen.

The storyline basically writes itself now that Rollins has won the world title, with Randy Orton wanting first crack, since he had beaten Rollins earlier that night, Lesnar wanting a rematch, because he himself wasn’t actually pinned, and of course, Reigns will antagonize with that Rollins came in to pick the pieces of two worn out competitors.  It’ll probably set up for a Fatal Four Way at the next pay-per-view that I likely won’t watch, but for the sake of setting up storylines for “the new year,” the WWE’s in good shape.

But basically, I have no problem admitting that I didn’t have high hopes in a Brock Lesnar vs. Roman Reigns main event, but what they did at Wrestlemania wasn’t just better than I had expected, it was actually really, really entertaining and enjoyable to watch.  We might not want to believe that Roman Reigns is world title material, but we might have to start believing that with some guidance and planning, Roman Reigns can be believable as a decent worker.

Let’s talk about the word “foreigner”

And no, not the band.  I actually really, really love the band Foreigner.  They’re one of those groups that I’ve heard their music all the time growing up, and mostly in movies, like the Rocky series, but it wasn’t until I was older did I put two and two together, and realize that the band that sang the montage of my life growing up was in fact, Foreigner.  But not that Foreigner, despite the fact that they undoubtedly rule.  I’m talking about the word foreigner, when describing people.

I was standing in line at Starbucks (big surprise), and this girl up and conveniently “meets up” with a friend AKA completely cuts in line.  It’s not really that long of a line, and I’m a pacifist and reluctant to make a confrontation over such a trite matter, so I begrudgingly let it slide.

The girl then begins talking about how she was leaving a particular location, at the same time as a whole lot of what I’m guessing were classmates.  But she didn’t refer to them as classmates, she mentioned how “all the foreigners” left at the same time she did.  I wrinkled my eyebrow at hearing this, as it’s been quite a while since I actually heard someone refer to people from other countries as specifically “foreigners” like this manner.

But then the girl (who was white, if it wasn’t clear) kept flapping her gums, and it became apparent that she had to work with some of “these foreigners,” because she mentioned how they even “speak foreign” in text messages.  And as if the, if I may call it, ignorance train could keep chugging, she whipped out her phone, and began reading out some text messages she had from her “foreigner” classmates.

Naturally, as is occasionally the case of a non-native speaking English, the text message was a little rough around the edges, but still getting the point across.  A few missing conjunctions, some incorrect grammar sure, but still the point was comprehendible.  But of course, that didn’t stop Little Miss Patagonia from gradually altering her voice until it became clear she was mocking an Asian studying abroad at Georgia Tech.

Needless to say, this whole exchange inadvertently overheard by proximity, got my mental gears turning to the point of where words are being put to brog right here, right now.  The girl was clearly just a little bit bigot-y, if that can even be a proper description, but really it got me thinking about the word “foreigner.”

Technically speaking, foreigner is not an improper word, or necessarily a pejorative by itself, but there’s just something about it that rubs me the wrong way, especially when used in the context that Little Miss Patagonia was using it, to basically clump a bunch of minorities together with minimal effort.

In the seventh grade, there was a kid in my class who was a known full-blown racist.  Very, very likely had parents/relatives in a Neo-Nazi, Aryan Brotherhood chapter in Northern Virginia somewhere.  Without any regard to whether a guy could kick his ass or not, he flung the word foreigner around left and right, towards anyone who wasn’t white.  Towards me, towards my friends that weren’t white, to the black kids, the Middle Eastern kids, it didn’t matter.  All foreigners.

Other than band, with our white teacher, I had no classes with him, but now I’m curious to know if he acted out towards any of the teachers that weren’t white.  Nor did I see him beyond the seventh grade, so I’d have no idea how he would’ve dealt with the requirement to take a foreign language, and being in a class with a Spanish, French, German or Japanese instructor; scratch that, no doubt he would have taken German.

One time, I remember he mouthed off to the wrong person, namely one guy who was like the de facto leader of the Afghan gang in the school.  Now that I think about it, I don’t think I remember seeing Mr. Racist after the day I remember seeing the Afghan gang leader marching down the hall, shouting out for him.

Back to the main point, the word foreigner isn’t necessarily politically incorrect, but it definitely feels like a word that is, based on the negatively connoted context in which people tend to use it.

Little Miss Patagonia was already headed down a slippery slope with her story about all her foreigner classmates by simply referring to them as such, and I probably would have mentally branded her a racist before she got all ching-chong-sing-song with her impression of her foreigner classmate’s text messages.

And it’s not just this kind of instance that piques my racism-senses; it’s simply the fact that an innocuous word has been used so poorly in at least my life’s experiences, that I can’t help but think that verbal injustice is on the menu whenever I hear the word foreigner at all.

This, is an example of why I think people can’t have nice things.

I can’t unsee it anymore

I was running on the treadmill, and because the television options at the gym’s cardio equipment are pretty much Keeping Up With the Kardashians, The View, The Black View (AKA “The Real”) and ESPN, I admit that I have ESPN tuned in way more than any human being with a brain really should.

That being said, there was once a day in which I saw Chris Broussard flapping his gums about something; close-captioning was off, and thankfully I had my earbuds attached to my phone instead of the TV, but there’s about a 100% chance it was probably something in regards to race, because Chris Broussard serves zero purpose on ESPN other than to stir up shit by repeatedly utilizing the race card.

But anyway, I’m looking at Chris Broussard this time, and I can’t help but feel like he reminded me of someone.  Someone I’d seen before, that wasn’t Chris Broussard, but looked a tremendous amount like him.

And then it hit me – Chris Broussard was a dead ringer for whenever Dave Chappelle put on white face and did his white reporter character.

How ironic is it?  Chris Broussard is a black man notorious for wielding the race card in any and every debate, and Dave Chappelle trying his damndest to look like a stuffy white man, ends up looking exactly like Chris Broussard.

I think I’ve just found out the only way to make seeing Chris Broussard on television remotely tolerable.

Programming note

I know my brog has been silent as of late.  This is not lost on me.  I have not given up on writing on a daily basis, I have not been gallavanting with my girlfriend instead, and I am not dead.

My brog is having some technical difficulties lately, and my orange brother is either in like Hawaii or Bratislava or Nicaragua or somewhere, so I’m not going to bother asking him to fix shit until he’s back.  Basically, there’s something about timestamping and the ability to upload images that’s making me not bother until it’s resolved.

For what it’s worth, I’m still writing daily, and will go on a retroactive posting spree when everything is back to normal.