La tradition bouddhique considère qu’il y a trois poisons qui sapent notre paix : l’ignorance ou l'égarement, l’avidité ou la convoitise, la haine ou la colère. Certaines écoles de pensée ajoutent la jalousie et l'orgueil. Ces voleurs nous dérobent notre sensibilité, notre bonté, notre humanisme, et ruinent des amitiés, des familles et des collectivités.
Néanmoins, il existe des contrepoisons : la bienveillance, la compassion, l’altruisme, l'équanimité (paix de l’esprit). Nous savons par expérience que nous filons beaucoup mieux quand nous pratiquons ces qualités, et que la bonté et la beauté rendent heureux. Mais, la culture de la haine et de la violence est plus populaire. Elle se transmet de génération en génération, et maintenant, grâce à Internet, elle s’autocopie à haute vitesse.
Malgré tout, je continue de croire à l’éducation.
«L’éducatrice et conférencière Jane Elliott est fermement résolue à déplanter le racisme en exposant les préjugés et le sectarisme pour ce qu'ils sont, c’est-à-dire un système de classement irrationnel fondé sur des facteurs purement arbitraires. Et si vous pensez que cela ne s'applique pas à vous... vous risquez un brutal réveil. Dans ses ateliers, elle explore le racisme, le sexisme, l’âgisme, l'homophobie et l'ethnocentrisme, et la responsabilité qui incombe à tous et chacun de les dévoiler et de les éliminer, en nous et dans notre environnement.» Voyez Sommes-nous racistes? (vidéos à l’appui) :
(Réf. : http://www.janeelliott.com/ )
J’ai déniché sur Medium* une analyse caustique au sujet de Charleston, du drapeau confédéré et des armes, dans le langage cru de certains pro-armes. Au fond, l’article expose le problème de la violence résultant de l’attitude «je suis plus important que toi», répandue dans beaucoup de groupes suprémacistes. Le racisme institutionnel, légal, cautionne l’injustice, l’esclavage et les actes barbares. Point.
L’auteur, né d’une mère mexicaine-américaine, a grandi dans le Sud. «Je ne connais pas la politique actuelle du KKK concernant les métis, mais j’ai l’air d’un blanc; de sorte que je suis très bien servi chez Starbucks», dit-il.
Si vous avez besoin de traduction, essayez ce site gratuit : http://www.freetranslation.com/
Guns Are The Original American Impotence Cure
By John DeVore
Friends, are you feeling oppressed? And by “friends,” I mean “white people,” and by “white people,” I mean “people who are not oppressed?” Are you paranoid that your birthright entitles you to absolutely nothing?
Then ask your local gun shop owner if a gun is right for you.
Guns are the original American impotence cure. We the people love a phallus. Obelisks, and missiles, and flagpoles with Confederate flags, fluttering. A gun can make a small man feel big. One squeeze of a trigger and bang! Blood rushes into bloodless flesh. The spiritually limp become tumescent. Those who are terrified of a world that offers nothing but change are immediately engorged with cheap courage.
A gun means you can kill shadows before they have a chance to disappear with the dawn.
For a modest sum your average American can purchase power they probably feel they have been denied. With a gun, people can’t help but listen to you. You’re respected, which is great, especially when you feel you deserve respect without ever having done anything to earn that respect.
Guns can help show woodland animals who’s the boss, and, as an added bonus, you can fill a garage freezer with meat that none of your friends or family really ever want. Most deer are assholes and get what’s coming to them.
Thanks to guns, you can protect what’s yours. Which is America. White people basically invented America. That’s why they shoot so many people. Just as a reminder. I forget which Native American Chief who, upon witnessing the muskets of the white man in action, famously said “Goddammit.”
I’m a white person. My birth mother is Mexican-American. I don’t know the KKK’s current policy concerning half-breeds, but I look white, and that’s why I get such excellent service at Starbucks.
I have shot a gun before at a range in Texas. It’s quite a rush. You feel very powerful. I went during my dad’s first chemo treatments. I was angry and scared and I imagined blowing away his tumors. But cancer is bulletproof.
For those brief, fleeing moments of ka-pow, I was a discount God with the power of life and death in my soft, milky-smooth hands.
Shooting a gun is sort of like jerking off a Transformer’s boner. Then, afterwards, you realize “this isn’t a toy, it’s a tool designed for one purpose: to kill.”
Yes, a gun is just a tool. An inanimate object. A thing. But if you banned acoustic guitars, no one would be able to perform “Wonderwall” at the bar’s open mic. I suppose you could perform a version with a tambourine. So we’d have to ban that too. Or just ban the song “Wonderwall.”
I grew up in the South. I love the South. Biscuits and gravy, Flannery O’Connor, Stax Records. Martin Luther King. Oftentimes, the South gets blamed for the sins of the entire country. But the South loves its guns, because for many the guns make them feel like they still have a shot at resurrecting an aristocratic civilization where everyone knew their place. Especially the slaves.
When you see someone proudly displaying the Confederate flag, what you’re seeing is some sentimental slob pining for a simpler time, when white people were in charge. Things were different then. Nowadays, white people are in charge.
My childhood was filled with lawn jockeys, and school visits to Civil War battlefields and talks with Civil War reenactors, who were the first cosplayers. I didn’t know what these symbols meant, and my mom sure as hell wasn’t going to tell me. Hate is easier to teach than love because hate gives instant purpose, without any effort, and love is nothing but constant bravery in the face of utter uncertainty.
Equality is no fun. That’s why warlords really seem to enjoy their lives, short as they usually are.
In retrospect, maybe Grant and Sherman were too subtle. I went to college in Richmond, Virginia. I hear there’s some great farm-to-table eats and kayaking there now. But it will forever be the defeated capitol of another country. To this day, you can find the ghost of Jefferson Davis drinking in a bar, muttering about what he could have done to save the cause. In Richmond, there’s an avenue that features nothing but grand statues of Robert E. Lee, J.E.B. Stuart, “Stonewall’ Jackson, and more. It’s called Monument Avenue, but I like to call it the Avenue of Second Place Trophies.
The South will rise again, wheeze, then sit back down.
So I get it. Guns are the Viagra that keeps the memory of stolen glory stiff and greasy.
Meanwhile, prescriptions for guns are written every hour of every day. 12 out of 10 NRA spokesman agree that guns are good for racists with low-self-esteem. People love to hate on the NRA. But I don’t. Those old coots are consistent in a comforting way.
The NRA is just the PR firm of an industry. “Guns don’t kill people, people kill people” is the “smoking does not cause cancer” of firearm manufacturers. Their whole comedy bit is making the absurd argument that the second Amendment is in danger. They’re not Constitutional rights advocates. They are against gun regulation because gun regulation is bad for business.
Liberals take the second Amendment bait every time. Every. Time.
The NRA do not bestow the right to gun ownership. The NRA, simply, profits from that right. I mean, do you think illegal guns are harvested in illegal fields in South America? No.
The “right to bear arms” isn’t in danger. The second amendment isn’t going anywhere. It’s nearly impossible to amend the Constitution. The Founding Fathers saw to that. Last time we did it was over 40 years ago. There is no way two-thirds of the current state legislatures would vote to overturn an Amendment that basically gives America permission to kill itself. The Founding Fathers were a delightfully morbid bunch.
Never let it be said that America is not goth. America is goth as fuck.
Now, there are some people who disagree with me. If you find yourself in a polite discussion with such a person, you might find yourself asking “are they going to shoot me?” More often than not, people who are really passionate about their guns talk about their guns with an emotionally unbalanced fury that makes you think they’re going to shoot you. This is a good way to win an argument. This is a good way to win all arguments. Guns! What can’t they do?
Bring back the lives of the innocent, for one. Return grandmothers and sons and friends back into the arms of their loved ones.
Lower crime is another. If you mention this to, say, someone with different political views, they may say “Chicago.” All you have to say is “New York,” and then have a mature conversation about how failed government policies, and economic inequality all conspire to create certain criminal trends. Then agree that while crime has actually come down to historic lows, there is still a lot of work we can do as a society and go enjoy a banana split, because they’re delicious.
Guns are only guaranteed to save your life if you’re the star of a movie like “Die Hard,” which is not, you may be surprised to learn, based on a true story. “Live by the sword, die by the sword” is the rare Bible quote that is backed up by modern statistics.
Guns should be regulated. Remember when the car industry fought tooth and nail against seat belts? Shut up, you don’t remember that. If you do, then you’re pretty technically adept for your age. Who hates seatbelts? Guns should be safer, and they should be in the hands of people who can verify they’re not fucking insane.
I mean, the government knows everything about us anyway. If you’re afraid of the government, I don’t know, treading on you because you’re a cartoon snake, then A) you should be against the militarization of law enforcement and B) you’ve probably already got an impressive arsenal.
Here’s a lesson in capitalism: guns can be regulated effectively, and America will still buy enough to make every other country cringe and think “let’s never, ever invade those wackos.”
You have a right to own a gun. It will make you feel safe in a world of constant, anxiety-inducing change. If you’re freebasing self-pity, a gun will make you dangerous. But make no mistake: America loves guns because Americans love to feel like they’re fully in charge of their destiny.
But please see a doctor if you experience an erection for more than four hours. Preferably, a psychiatrist.
Le Festival de Jazz de Montréal bat son plein. Alors voici Strange Fruit par Billie Holiday, en hommage aux jazzmen Afro-Américains dont les blancs se sont approprié la musique sans considération ni remords.
Southern trees bear strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees
Pastoral scene of the gallant south
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop
Une interprétation par Nina Simone, accompagnée de photos horribles et révoltantes témoignant de cette cruauté raciste qui perdure :