2017 COUNTERPOINTS COUMNS Shades Of China My Words Are My Words Kept In The Dark About Bus Rapid Transit - Part II The Death Of Laney College As We Know It? Blood Drops On The Sidewalk Kept In The Dark About Bus Rapid Transit The Healthlessness Of Homelessness Oakland's Black Arts And Business District Left Off State Pilot Project List And About Those Hidden Community Benefits From Carmel Partners A Darktown/Chinatown Brawl? A Councilmember Responds Is There A Darktown/Chinatown Brawl In The Making In Oakland? The
Laney College Athletics? The
Beautiful Babies Of Khan Sheikhoun Breaking
The Stalemate Over The Oakland Black Arts
District A
Tale Of Two Visions: Oakland's Downtown Black
Business And Arts District Imagine
A Special District In Downtown Oakland
Highlighting Black Arts, Business, And
Entertainment Current
CounterPoints Columns SEND ME AN EMAIL (to safero@earthlink.net) |
December 2, 2017 “Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth,” that fellow called Ishmael explained at the beginning of Moby Dick, “whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.” Me, I got a simpler problem with a simpler solution. Every time Donald Trump says something that makes me so mad that I want to smash in my television set or take a brick to somebody’s head—anybody’s head—my head—then I just make my way down to the corner to visit with the Professor. Nobody can riff on Donald Trump like the Professor, and usually after he’s finished, my blood pressure’s gone down and I can function in the world again. But this time, he disappointed me. [To Complete Column]
|