The C Word.

What will it be today? I’m thinking either racism or censorship. I let the Scribe decide, in a piece of magnificent magnanimity meant mainly manipulatively, since I have already decided. What she lacks courage to say, I will say for her, and it will be the C word all the way.

Hard to believe in this day of Free Speech, that you have no free speech.

So it is, alas. It doesn’t surprise me.

I’ll make this brief, it’s quite filthy and I don’t like handling it.

Know that the Scribe has a variety of ‘persons’ living inside her head, one of whom had a story to tell that took her from me for almost two years. A nightmare for me, as you can imagine, but the story was excellent, I was fascinated to read it myself, as it unfolded. Nothing to do with me, it was perfect for You, the world, with heart, tragedy, a dog, food, lonely women finding ancient bonds between them that change their worlds, what else could you ask for? A love story to the wide grasslands of southern Saskatchewan, to its history, its power. A book with hope, if you can believe it, who knew my Scribe could host something like that?

This book then, sweet, heartbreaking, was accepted for publication by a well known publisher, and quite rightly so. Then the contract, with the C word built in, like something quite ordinary, we reserve the right to edit or delete… words that might be deemed to inspire hatred for reasons of race, creed or religion…’

A sensible mind reads that as, we reserve the right to deny you your right to Free Speech, you don’t have such a thing. Witness the clause in the picture above, which would grant them the power to silence Me, Satan, a reasonable God that nobody loves. This kind of thing without reading a word I said, sigh. I didn’t have to get all hot, no need for smoke and smoulder, my Indescribable Scribe felt the same way, she let it go immediately. Did she send a slightly saucy reply? Did she defend the Sacred Rights? Indeed she did.

So well, in fact, that I have given way Gracefully and allowed my Scribe to work at putting the book on Amazon. Before my sequel, whose name has been changed from “Tempest”, to “Never I”, in consequence of my having changed it.

Another instance of my amiable nature that will be entirely over-looked by the masses, who never read me.

Moving on.

Racism. Why not?

And you can quote me.

Let me explain it in simple terms. Things like biology and genetics can’t simply be ignored because you happen, at this point in your history, to think it’s wrong. It’s built in, for gods’ sakes.

Consider this. Historically speaking, whites have always assumed superiority, darker colours given it to them, long before whites and darks ever met each other, so to speak. It starts way back in the cave, and is as simple as this- who gets to stay inside? Safe, sheltered, not hunting or gathering, not facing wild beasts, this person is privileged. New mothers, the smallest of children, the infirm and aged, they live in the corners, who else is here? They are the ones set apart already, for whatever reason, shamans, bards, other powers, beauty even. They rarely see the sun, even as temples rise and streets grow crowded. To be out of doors is to labour, for how many centuries? In all races, from dark to light, the paler the better, to this day, in many countries. Simply because old habits die hard.

North Americans are as prejudiced as the rest of the world, no more, no less. The world has no problem with hating America for being America, everyone is happy hating racists, you are ready to bash the elites again. How tedious. It’s such an old song, such a cheap and easy pretext. A question for you. Of all the reasons people hate each other, why is this the one that matters?

Greed, pride, jealousy, hate who you like for these sensible reasons, hate for no reason, hate because you remember the forest, where everyone was your enemy. Hate what you hate, face it in yourself, it’s a part of you, you’ll never choke the life from it. Sit beside it, on any warm stone wall, and get to know it. Understand how it can live in you, grant it a share of your attention, like a friend, it’s easy to please, if only you understood this. A permanent, honoured guest, it will never seek to be Master.

I, on the other hand, will do all in my power to influence you, by any means I can conceive of. An intrepid reader, the Devil’s favourite kind. And Mastery has no real, tangible definition in our context, who knows what it can look like?

“Beautiful Hell”  by Adna