Life Would Be Easier If It Were

Why? Being White Equals Being Racist

I don’t recall a time where I regulated, either people in my actual life or here on this blog, based on race, religion, or political allegiance. It just doesn’t happen. Unfortunately that opens me, personally, as a target. I receive many threats and promises here from people who would like to meet me in person so they could teach me a lesson or two about their personal views on life and what it means to them. For the most part I ride the fence on many issues so I don’t step on people’s toes who have their own agenda to attend to. With that being said, I offer y’all the eloquent wisdom of someone who believes he has the answers and must educate my white ass. Followed by a comment made in reply to his comment. These can be seen in their original beauty at “It’s Your Choice To Unfollow T.S.O.T.S.B.” where I was writing about how people decided to jump ship. Both comments make their point. Unlike many other blogs, unless your bullshit comment is spam, I let it stand for everyone to see and if you happen to spark my interest I will even talk about your comment separately. Anyway, below you will see the original reader comment and another reader’s reply to the comment.

• Jueseppi B. says:
  October 19, 2014 at 21:01 Edit
  Here’s why your dumbass lost followers, you stupid fuck. YOU are not an American. Your ancestors murdered the true real Americans, who were the Native Americans, and stole this land. YOU, you moronic piece of feces, are an IMMIGRANT. I absofuckinlutely adore when a caucasian muthafuckin idiot, such as yourself, claims America as their own land. Caucasian racist asswipes such as you never worked or earned jack shit in this nation. I am 1/4th Pawnee Indian and MY people own this land, not your Ofay goofy ass. Be very glad all you lost were a few hundred followers. You ain’t fit to carry Barack Hussein Obama’s soiled socks. Now go suck a penis.

And now the reader reply………..

• Philip Paul says:
  October 19, 2014 at 22:28 Edit
  What percentage of people who called themselves Romans were actually born in Rome smart ass? My Grandfather lived on a reservation as a child, his mother was a full blooded Cherokee. I would dare say that I have Indian blood also so your argument is invalid with me. Being an American is an attitude and a state of mind. So you have one quarter Indian? That would leave 3/4 black if you are as you claim to be in your own words, a Militant Negro, and we all know just how many blacks lived in this hemisphere back in the day, right? Thanks for playing.

End of comment reply.

What’s my opinion? Well let’s begin with what Jueseppi had to say first. Yes, I am white, I cannot claim and/or cling to any of my ancestors being anything but white. I know my identity, it has not been split up and spit back on me as something I can pull out when I feel the urge to explain myself, with me you just get white. Since I wasn’t around back when the western hemisphere and the Americas were being explored I can’t accurately conclude who killed who in order settle the land for future generations of men and women of many races to come. As far as the rest of your rantless bullshit, well, we will just let those be because they speak volumes about you. So, if it makes you sleep better at night calling me a racist because I’m all white, I can live with that, because you have an agenda and I don’t want to fuck that up by disagreeing with you, my gift to you.

Philip Paul asked the ultimate question at the beginning of his reply. I was born in the United States of America, my parents were born here, my grandparents were born here, and my great grandparents were born here. Beyond that, I don’t know what in the fuck my people were up to. Sorry to disappoint you, Jueseppi, but my family was always poor, did all their own work, have always worked for someone else, never owning slaves, never having hired help, never having employees, just doing it all themselves trying to survive. Your blanket assumptions of me are so wrong that it is almost humorous because you, for one, believe all the bullshit you were taught and now preach.

As a nation we are fucked because of people just like you, Jueseppi, who don’t give a fuck about this nation or the where it is headed. I suppose if I were to look at life from the point of view you chose to point out, none of us here in the United States should be proud to be Americans, we should be proud of where our ancestors came from. We should all have hyphenated names like African Americans instead of just being Americans. Its you who wants to have something besides American in your description, maybe you need to hyphenate all of your lineage together to show people your true patronage, we both know that being American is not enough for you, we both know you have no American pride, and your arrogant comment proves you only give a fuck about Jueseppi.

Normally I wouldn’t choose to invite racial bullshit here but Jueseppi had a point to make, he had to prove how white I am and he needed to point out that being white makes me a racist. He does this without proof or knowledge of me or the definitions he hides behind. I support his freedom of speech as he condemned my own. Judge me, prove me wrong, but be sure next time you want to be self righteous in your banter against me that you remember one simple thing, I don’t give a fuck about your opinions.

A Ghost From Easter’s Past

I have often wondered what happens to things one hides in their yard for a variety of reasons over the years that never get found. Specifically, Easter comes to mind, not only because Easter just happened but also because while hiding Easter eggs for my 3 and 5 y/o nieces I found a little piece of yard history. Many moon ago I can remember hiding a certain tractor for my son when he was quite a bit younger. There is no doubt that he had found it because from that day forward he would ride it evverywhere, including inside the house when nobody was looking. Then, as years pass, interests change, and he used it less and less. Then, it disappears but nobody really cares or misses it. This weekend all of that changed.

After loading and counting the 347 plastic eggs of various shapes and colors, my son and I set off into the yard to hide them for my nieces. Now that my own children are “too old” to hunt eggs, they typically help hide the eggs and escort the young ones around helping them in their search. As we moved around the yard placing eggs here and there we made a strange discovery where the grass hits the woods. Indeed, we had found the long lost tractor which I never knew was lost in the first place. Oddly, it was like finding an old friend. Who knows how long its been out there but both of my nieces claim they never saw it before and my son didn’t even remember leaving it out there.

How did the hunt go? It was fantastic. My two nieces tear-assing through the yard in their matching white dresses did not disappoint, they found both of the muddy spots where they stopped off to make pies. This didn’t bother me at all but their mother was a different story. Did you know I single handedly ruined their dresses that they had year to take one picture in for memories sake. Boo hoo, its just mud. After the hunt we made a grave discovery, 6 of the plastic eggs are missing in action. After a quick survey before the sun began to set we were only able to locate 2 of them. Oh well, I will probably come across them when I now or clean up the yard, and if not I might find them next year. I must have found a few real sweet spots in the yard or they are so damn obvious that they are actually in plain sight somewhere. Who knows. Better yet, who cares. In the end, my nieces used the old dirty tractor to tote their cache around the yard until their mother decided fun time was over. All in all I consider the day a success, we ate well, had fun, and there were no trips to the emergency room. Makes me wonder when little girls were expected not to play in the mud. Different strokes for different folks I guess.

Pushing Beyond Black History Month

My general focus here today, or any day for that matter, is to ask questions, provide information, and try to understand why selective history is used to create passions with no end in sight. Before we get our collective shorts in a knot let me just state that I speak from my personal family history when I say that my ancestors were not slave owners (of any race). With that being said I am very confident that myself nor my family owes reparations to anyone for the compensation for their ancestors’ unpaid labor and bondage. I have heard that we need Black History Month in the United States to further educate on history that isn’t taught in the schools or has been abolished altogether. Is it true? Is it true that there are people who do not know their own family history? I hear how the United States Government all the way down to local schools have the burden of responsibility to educate people. Let me tell y’all this quaint little fact, they don’t owe anyone anything. Want to know who needs to take responsibility to know their history? Everybody. Everybody who wants to know something needs to dig a little deeper than the schools and the government, they need to look to family for accurate history, our families are the ones who made the history. Besides, the complaint is that the history of the United States is too “white” and does not cover everyone in the same detail.

A part of history one rarely hears or sees is that slavery in the New World could have never taken place with same numbers and impact if it were not for the African elite selling African slaves to European traders. That’s right, Africans were selling Africans for profit. Why don’t we hear this information during Black History Month? I will tell you why, in my simple opinion, because it is hard to sell a struggle when your own ancestors are the root of slavery. Its hard to make it seem as tho the white man chased down and captured each slave that was brought to the American colonies when the truth is more damning. Now, I have had discussions like this in the past with friends, co-workers, and family before and it always ends up being the same outcome, people hating me because a white man pointed out their ugly history to them. What sucks is the fact that when the words came out of my mouth they reacted as if it was the first time they had heard it.

Want to be pissed of because your ancestors were slaves? Want to be pissed off because you are black and have no ancestors that were ever slaves? Want to be pissed off at me for being white? Good, get pissed off. Get good and pissed because the focus on hating an entire race because a portion of it owned slaves seems like the real mainstream thing to do, it’s very trendy amongst celebrities and well known people as well as the man or woman who is sitting right next to you right now. I don’t owe you anything, not even an apology or a condolence. I used to wonder why a black person hated a white person. I know why now. Do you know? We are raised to hate. We are raised to hate oppression. We are raised to hate the oppressors. We are raised that we need an excuse to hate somebody because it isn’t our fault we are the way we are. We are raised not to be responsible for our words and actions. We are raised and taught anger, fear, and retaliation. Why? Is it because the generation before us did the same thing, and so on and so on?

Who here reading this post even knows the origins of Black History Month? Who here reading this post even knows why Black History Month is celebrated in the month of February? That’s right, leave here, go Google it, and then come back because I’m not done yet. Go ahead, I’ll wait. I fully understand why Black History Month occurs. I respect the search for knowledge. What I can’t appreciate is it being used as a platform to promote hate of other races or that people make money on it as profit. Those of y’all who think I’m wrong don’t get out much do y’all? Celebrating one’s heritage and history should also include the darker side of the history. Perhaps even include a question I would like to ask someone who is black, someone who holds strong to the self appointed title of African American, someone who sees the white man as the devil, and for that person who just hates me for my color. If African slaves were not sold by your African ancestors how likely do you think it is that you would have migrated to North America on your own? If there wasn’t a slave trade which your African ancestors profited from heavily, would you still be here today? When you have an answer to both of those questions then come at me with why you still hate the white man.

Okay, so where do we go from here? Who knows. I’m sure I’ve pissed more than one person off. I think it would be nice if I didn’t know more about black history than most blacks know about black history. That would be a nice start. Will I ever see it? That question will remain unanswered and unpredicted. I would like to think that people who want knowledge would rely on multiple sources before coming to a single conclusion. In the end, it doesn’t matter what a person’s race is, at the end of the day we are living in the year 2014 in a country where slavery has been abolished and not living in Africa where slave ownership is currently still a way of life. Sometimes the truth sucks, sometimes the truth sets you free, sometimes the truth makes you a prisoner, and sometimes the words from the unexpected shake up the way you think. And yes, before everyone starts yelling at me, I know Black History Month goes well beyond slavery in history, it is time “set aside” to celebrate the little known to the famous black people that history has chose to overlook or understate.

Yes, I am white. No, I am not your enemy.

The Choice Is Very Simple!

Beware Of Background Image Changes

I have been scouring the internet looking for a background image for The Sting Of The Scorpion that is dark and gritty allowing the text in posts to remain white. This change actually started a few months ago when I changed the color theme here from blue to red. I would let it be for a while until I had enough random comments mentioning the dislike of the current background. I realize I can’t make everyone happy but in my attempt to do so I will open this all up for submissions. I ask that two guidelines are used in your own search, it must be able to be seamlessly tiled and I need it to be dark and red. The above picture is my latest attempt to get a good contrast between the background and the white text. It’s not the fault of the reader that I’m color blind but it is something y’all must suffer through with me. Thanks for the understanding and help in advance.

Please send any submission ideas (full size) to thestingofthescorpion@gmail.com

White Fudge Oreos, Just Genius!

I have written here before about my “secret” addiction to most things that involve the Oreo cookie. However, no matter the flavor or combination I have always, and I mean always, been a super big fan of the original Oreo. However, my mind was just changed permanently as I just tried the new “Limited Edition” White Fudge Covered Oreo. If you have not tried these cookies yet then you are missing pure bliss in your mouth. I recommend you stop whatever you are doing, stop reading this post, get in your car and do not stop until you are at the store. Enter that store with a mission and find the aisle with the cookies pictured and buy the ALL. Do not leave one package on the shelf, do not leave any for anyone, buy them all for yourself. You wont be disappointed I promise. Don’t like Oreo cookies? Too damn bad, go buy these cookies, take one bite, then return to the place of purchase and buy all the rest of the packages. Why? Let me explain a little bit about the laws of supply and demand. Since this is a limited edition cookie that means it won’t be for sale for very long. But, if we buy all the ones that are for sale right now then stores will notice the demand and request that more be produced and shipped out for sale. So, what in the hell are you still doing reading this post, go and get yourself these cookies. NOW! Then, come back here and report your enjoyment.

Now that you have returned from buying ALL the packages that were on the shelf you should be feeling pretty good about your accomplishment. You have now found out how fantastic these cookies really are for yourself. You are now patting yourself on the back for a job well done. Now we can sit back and wait for the next shipment of White Fudge Covered Oreo Cookies while we munch on our limited supply of White Fudge Covered Oreo Cookies. We better go to a different store and then a different one and then repeat. No, there is not a better way, my way is the best way! This is probably the most fanfuckingtastic cookie I have ever let cross my lips.

The Evil White Chocolate

Published by Scorpion Sting using my Droid.

Dartmoor Devil White Chocolate

Today was an excellent day to be me. A while back I posted a thread @ BC requesting that somebody buy some Dartmoor Devil chocolate for me for my birthday coming up this November. As serious as I was being I never expected that someone would do it. Then I started seeing messages from RPD (rumpunchdrunk) about how he looked into it all, found some, and in turn placed it in the mail for me. We exchanged a few e-mails so I could give him my shipping address. Now, I will remind you of one detail, I have never met RPD, so in a way this was scary. I did, however, hope for the best and hoped this was all legit. Over the years the human race has let me down so you can see why I was a little cautious. Sometimes a person just needs to let their guard down and roll the dice. RPD informed that a package was in the mail and to be looking out for it in the very near future.

Today was that day in the future. Today was the day I was called to the front office of my place of employment to pick up a package from the UK. Could it be true? Was it here? I felt like a kid running out to the mail box to meet the mail man because he had a package for me. That feeling of excitement and surprise that I had as a kid has never changed. I always get excited. I buy stuff from all over the world on eBay, Craigslist, and a multitude of other places, and I always get excited when the packages arrive. Maybe it’s true, we never actually grow up. But, wait, this post isn’t actually about me, my childhood, or my search for the perfect heat/food combinations.

The package has arrived. Now, I’m unable to find ways to thank RPD for his most gracious gift. I hope that RPD doesn’t mind that I’m doing a post about the grand deed that has been done. Since we, RPD and myself, are in different countries I thought this might be a good way to get my message out to share with the world what RPD has done for me. I know it is just chocolate, but it is the absolute gesture of kindness that has blown me away. RPD didn’t have to spend the time or the money for me. This is where I am going to leave it, I’m very happy that RPD has done this for me and I will be forever thankful for it. Wait? What does it taste like? I don’t know yet, I will save that for another post. So, without further ado, a big huge thank you to RPD for acquiring these (RPD sent me two) chocolate bars and sending them to me from the UK. I owe you big!

Datmoor Devil White Chili Chocolate