Browsing through the sewer that was ESPN recently, resplendent in my hip high wading boots, rubber over coat and face protectors to prevent splash backs, I stepped into a large pile of feces. The back flow was phenomenal and almost swept me off my feet, but fortunately my innate sense of balance enabled me to discern where the solid ground was before I planting myself firmly in rooted position. To quote Parliament Funkadelic, “the secret to walking on water, is knowing where the rocks are!”

In this case, it’s a case of… the secret to wading through shit, is knowing where solid ground is! In this case the shit I speak of is here. Now I am not going to come out and question this young man’s sincerity, because I don’t know him or his situation. However, like ground hog day, I keep re-living a day in my life when I come across knee-grows who have learned to despise themselves so much that they would try to be any one or any thing but what the Universe made them to be. Knee-grows will be quick to tell you they are (pick one) part Chinese, Syrian, Native American, South Asian, British (implying Caucasian), Spanish, or any ish before or instead of claiming their African self. Yet I am always challenged when I proudly proclaim myself African. I always have a comeback, superbly delivered to highlight their ignorance and nonsensical braying. However, being ignorant is not a crime, willingly remaining ignorant is and many of these people will refuse to acknowledge they are Africans. Some with clinched teeth and clinched butts will concede that they are “of African descent”, but can go no further lest the earth opens up and swallows them whole.

Sometimes one has to speak the language that simple people understand, in order to establish a frame of reference and to ensure that they don’t drift off and start drooling on their bibs. Thus in relation to the link above I refer to this verse from the European fantasy book

When I was a child I spoke as a child I understood as a child I thought as a child; but when I became a man I put away childish things.”

I Cor. 13.v. 11.

The child’s mind is enraptured with every trifling thing it encounters and as he is devoid of experience, vacuously pursues a child’s trifling pleasures, in blissful ignorance of the pitfalls and disappointments of life.  They child looks forward each day to infantile hopes of fairytale scenes with butterfly colors and pastel happiness; while bright doe like eyes, flitters on and around shiny objects, envisioning ice cream dreams of paradise in every cloud and of white mane dandelions picked to blow windmill like in his hands . The memories of such childish days are delightful recollections, often cherished with rapture in future years, while the man, often forgetful of the bed wettings and knee scrapes of his childhood, stupidly laments how his youthful days were so much better than today.

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