"S.uspicious N.egro A.ctivity"
"Big City Liberalism" ain't what it used to be.
Not when your impression, out there on the street, is a blowing tumbleweed that asks the rotten skirt of an existential question that you'd choose to overlook out of "high-mindedness", like pretending that the old guy who shuffled around like an arthritic cat in an assisted living home "really knew his stuff" with the 4000 yard stare, or was ever some kind of disciple of the Hugh Hefner ethos as he rattles around like some kind of mummy with all the spryness of dried-out old bandages that just presses on with its beliefs like nasal conviction, some kind of "Scottsboro Boys" idealism that has clearly become as irrelevant as old pulp paperbacks mouldering with the sigh of silence as the young and wild and blatant caper about merrily in the streets below in all-too-middle-class packs.
Only the young and dorky sit and listen to the stories, and wonder "what it must have been like" as a surrogate for the life they don't have, and so-- thusly inspired-- may throw their nebbish weight behind an apparently "faultless cause" for the absolute certainty of believing in something, beyond the cruddy cracked glaze of life's rotten, honeyed promises "that never quite added up". Standing up "against racism", or for something like "Amnesty International", because no one is usually going to come after you "with axe-handles" in this day-and-age. And hell, even if they did-- it would only add to the element of risk and danger "and dancing with the dark".
Sometimes facts aren't as relevant as the perception, the imperfections of information theory, and how "no one wants to make a scene" or appear as "socially inappropriate" as the fabric of social reality may veer into comically incongruous territory, "while pretending to be the reasonable ones" as the news media puts on "the properly concerned faces", an air of leering triumph as a meeting is held on the local Washington University campus to decry "racial profiling" of some characters who could hardly pass as the most stellar, moral examples of young African-American manhood.
Meanwhile, we park rangers of the Red-State lands, a bunch of good ole' boys in ball-caps and shotgun home defense and "bear-mace ninjitsu" would joke amongst ourselves-- radioing ahead about "S.N.A." or "S.uspicious N.egro A.ctivity" which is why "we leave the rats to St. Louis". . . . . to the mercy of a bunch of depraved marauders on whom order can not be imposed, nor the world made safe for reason, much less for their liberal enablers whom deny their quibbling senses.
When in doubt, punch a Heeb in the nose. . . . . and may he see "The Stars n' Red Light Glare" of that age old truth of the liberal who is just a conservative who hasn't been mugged yet!
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"You want a-nuther song? Well I ain't plain' one mutherfuckin' note until someone comes up here and puts sum money in my god-damned tip-jar! You know I only came here for one purpose. . . . . to take yor fuckin' cash! Why, I could make more profit puttin' out my meth-head neighbor's asshole and ringin' a bell, hollerin' 'Man for sale! Man for sale!'
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(Rheeee of Crickets)
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("I heard that, Missy!")
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