Friday, December 02, 2005


Man is born. The umbilical cord is torn. This act makes him a living, breathing fact. A human, to be exact. Squirming, screaming, squealing life, trapped in a world of infant strife. He grows in body and mind. How fast he grows, it's opined. He grows in spite of rockets, exposed electric sockets, wars and cars and, who can tell, men from Mars. He grows tall and strong. And wrong.

According to plan is Man. Each limb in place. Caucasian race. No other tint of skin will do. Blacks aren't men. I thought you knew. Oriental? Elemental. Chinese? They're for bowing, smiling nice, eating rice. When all is said and done there's only one. That's right. He's white.

When Man is young his hide is tough and made of stuff bigotry and hate can't penetrate. He strains to find a meeting of he heart and mind in search of truth. Man is a sleuth. In school he learns to read and write and find new light to chase out doubt and cobweb thought that's taught. He learns and yearns for truth and finds it. No one seems to care or mind it. That begins the Master Plan, the complete deterioration of Man.

Did you know Man can reproduce? The juice of Man flows into Woman, then behold! we have still other Men. Such is the greatness of Man. That's how the world began.


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