poetry in commotion...

Well, I had to visit Centrelink today again. In the hour that it took me to get to the counter some tatooed lady swore at me, an 18 year old with what looked like ADD tried to start a fight with me and two boongs, I mean, indigenous Australians (they were a couple), had a huge and very public argument in the lobby. I wouldn't use the word cesspool, but I'd sure as hell think it.

On to the topic of indigenous Australians, why can I never make eye contact with one without him or her trying to start a fight with me? It's like as soon as I make eye contact, they release all their inner rage and begin jumping up and down like monkeys picking a fight over a bunch of bananas. It's not that I'm staring at them or any such agitating action. I somehow make eye contact as I would with any normal person, and bam, I get some erudite statement such as "what you starin' at cunt?" or some equivalent, followed by an obligatory racial remark. I try to be understanding of all races, but never have I received such overwhelmingly universal belligerence from any other race. Out of every aboriginal I've spoken to, I have only met one, repeat, one aboriginal that was remotely nice, and he was gay. While of course the sample is small compared to the other races, having a 99% rate of having that particular race slur some kind of racial epithet at me is not something that you can chalk up to as a statistical anomaly. I always reason it off as that of the city tribes, whose path of self destruction leaves me to believe that unless some miraculous universal sweeping change in attitude is affected among these people, they are at an evolutionary dead end.

What they need is a leader. Someone who will shake their weary spirit, make them achieve what they want to achieve. Like everything in life, the actions of one man must effect the chain of events that bring about social reorder. Where are our great men of today?

posted by jaseypoo! @ 9:56 PM