“Resuscitating Jesse”
By The Professor
The Reverend Jackson once again has injected his ubiquitous two cents into the news stream, this time in the Christopher Dorner manhunt.
However, in calling upon the craven murderer to stop the insanity and surrender, no mention was made of his innocent victims. Without a micron of irony or shame, Jackson offered this sage advice to the fugitive: “I understand your feelings of hurt and pain. I make this plea to you to stop spreading the pain, the hurt, and the fear. Please stop. Don’t take any more lives.”
Pain and hurt are concepts that Jackson should be well acquainted with.
Whether by secretly fathering bastard children or whipping up racial animus with his Travelling Racial Grievances & Reparations Dog and Pony Show, Mr. Jackson possesses the dubious talent of being able to make a bad thing even worse by an order of magnitude.
But since Dorner is an ex-cop that has been framed by many in the media as a deranged victim of a racist and insular system that he had tried to expose to no avail, his death at the hands of his pursuers or himself will not further the patented Jackson narrative.
A dead Dorner (photo, above) puts a halt to what can be a veritable cornucopia of racial pandering by the usual suspects who routinely spin excrement into racial hatred– and indirectly—cash. A live Dorner with a highly charged political manifesto promises a near inexhaustible supply of grist for the grievance mill, as well as appearances on talk and radio shows. And as always, such extravaganzas provoke the insufferable stream of racial hyperbole that attracts itself to such trials like ants to sugar. With the right spin, Dorner can be rehabilitated as a Dark Crusader who was driven to madness by a brutal and bigoted injustice. Marketed properly, he can then fulfill his place in the pantheon of America’s counter-cultural martyrs. But only if he lives.
Having a son who is ready to be sent up the river for financial malfeasance is perhaps fitting for having devoted one’s life to racial extortion. But as the bank bandit Willie Sutton famously quipped when asked why he robbed banks, “That’s where the money is.” Conversely, there is little profit to be had in Jackson’s Second City Charnel House, where wilding black youth roam at will in flash mobs or kill themselves in statistics that one would expect in Afghanistan. Sadly, our self-styled heir to Martin Luther King Jr. has no alchemy to offer Chi-Town’s South Side, where the dirty business of liberalism extracts its pound of flesh with interest, and the true root causes of vile murder are strangled by the prevailing orthodoxy.
Having long ignored the beam in his own eye, Jackson’s lips drip with that faux Christian concern that hucksters of his breed are so adept at affecting. The Talmud wisely tells us that when you are kind to the cruel, you will be cruel to the kind. In every way imaginable, the House of Jackson has burnt to the ground credibility wise. Yet, he is always available to add his calculating voice to squeeze a few ounces of political juice from a monster famished for blood and revenge.
Look instead to your own back yard and heal thyself, Jesse. Black youth in Chicago are dying in droves because of liberalism’s perpetual House of Horrors—wherein you are judged and condemned for being one of its chief complicit architects.
Source: Palookaville Post
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