A Reader Seeking Justice
November 9, 2011
Thanks to the good people at Newsmax, BobGrantOnline.com appears on the Internet daily. I like to think that if someone has something to share with our readers, that person should feel free to join in. Today I yield my own opinion to Maureen Crowley, a great writer and true champion of the underdog. I want you to read her words. Thank you.
Mr. President: I keep seeing her face . . . that elderly black woman, large, deep sad eyes, broken heart. She sits holding in her lap a 5x7 photo of her murdered son. Why, oh why, does this image haunt me so? Lots of women lose their grown children. I saw my son’s great-grandmother and grandmother lose theirs. Me? I lost two husbands: first dead from AIDS, the second from booze. A purpose for this particular suffering in my little, insignificant life? It must be my sense of injustice. I can’t stand to think that in the United States of America nobody cares if her son’s murderer is ever found.
And all I can think is that the massive intensity of the smear against Herman Cain might be a diversionary tactic to take us away from this older lady’s loss. We still have racism in the U.S. But we have an even more severe case of fascism. Black men and women aren’t allowed to be work-your-way-to-the-top conservatives. They are not permitted in this bizarre world of a media drunk with its illusion of power. Let’s examine the power to take away careers. We saw it with Christine O’Donnell in Delaware. We saw Bill Maher destroy her for good. We saw it with Sarah Palin who, incidentally, was the only person to visit the victims of Fort Hood. She sold books and donated the profits to them. I don’t care how much money it generated. She did it. She cared, and got vile hatred from the media anyway.
I don’t think God can be too happy with the media right now —the outrages, the lies, the filth. How can these people look at themselves in the mirror? Do they snort a lot of cocaine, drink a lot of white wine? Do they tell themselves that that luxury apartment at a good Manhattan address means they’ve made it? Do any of them look into that mirror and wonder what happened to a childhood of innocent wonderment, parents who loved them, aunts who stood near them in church? How did their integrity go into the garbage can? Materialistic stuff? Is that what we’re here for . . . stuff and Power? Seriously? In my lowly job in which I clean toilets, I take pride in what I do. I get them shining clean. The same goes for the chrome on sinks, vacuumed bedrooms, kitchen counters. I finish cleaning a house to the very best of my ability and I never have to take my work home with me. There is the absolutism of having taken what was dirty, and making it clean. Job stress is pretty much non-existent.
When my painting company father died in 1995, the priest said that God did to souls what dad did to buildings. He renewed. He made someone better. Some media person out there, reading this, envies me . . . the pressures, the prescription medication, the failed relationships, the life that went amiss. They wish all they had to do was to get a house clean and not wonder how their integrity got sold.
Mr. President, you were overheard dissing a head of state who only wants to survive. He doesn’t want to brainwash anyone into a birka. He wants the young people of his country to marry, start a family, have a home. He sees the hatred everywhere on his borders. And if he bugs you a lot, he’s got a damn good reason. His name is Benjamin Netanyahu. And if you and I were completely honest with each other, we’d agree that if we were in an airplane in the Middle East, and were forcibly dropped out in a parachute, we’d pray that we would land in Israel, right? Please pray that good will overcome evil on our precious earth.
Back to that older lady, whose countenance haunts me day and night. Her name, of course, is Norma Jean Young, and nobody gives a rat’s behind if her son, Donald, the gay choir director of Rev. Jeremiah Wright’s church, gets found or not. But guess what? I’ve found out I’m not alone. A woman named Cheryl called Rush Limbaugh’s show last Friday and mentioned the name of that Chicago whistleblower. I’m guessing that Cheryl wants justice for Norma Jean as well as the family of Larry Bland. Yeah, the whistleblower is really kind of sleazy. But a liar too? Time will tell. Maybe a certain powerful woman’s possible blackmailing role will be exposed in this massive Chicago cover-up that has seen Jesus weep, indeed.
Lastly, please don’t send Will Smith to my house in a black coat. And please don’t audit my income taxes for using a capful or two of my Murphy’s soap for my own personal hardwood floors.
Justice for Mr. Bland and Mr. Young,