Beware, for this post I wear my red kimono. People with weak stomachs should not read this.

I doubt that I know much about the asses of rats, but I know that the possibility that black people, free or slave, might immigrate to the North motivated some Union soldiers to fight in the war. I have read that in letters written by Union soldiers after the publication of the Emancipation Proclamation.

Even today, much in Black Culture terrifies me. For example, we have Michael Vick's interview in which, to his credit, he makes no excuses, but I got the impression that dog fighting must have been a common thing in the neighborhood where he grew up. I can't imagine my children being exposed to that.

We have the example, according to Bill Cosby, that outrageously vulgar discourse is common is black culture.

School board members in Oakland, California wanted to teach children that something, which they called Ebonics, should be taught rather than Standard English.

I know substitute teachers who won’t work in black areas of town because they think the campuses are not safe because of violent students.

Here in Los Angeles, the federal government closed the King Drew Hospital because it had killed too many, probably all black, people. Black politicians, like Maxine Waters, fought to keep it open, but finally its repeated criminal incompetence caused its closure.

The list goes on, and it reminds me of the Arthur Ashe quote which says something about being born black is worse than having AIDS. If that is not a quote, maybe it should be.

I can’t imagine living with neighbors; who are continually involved in criminal behavior, unsafe schools that don’t teach Standard English; and hospitals with incompetent doctors. I have a black friend. Years ago, I asked him to define Uncle Tom. He said that I should imagine being stepped on and ground into the ground so far that I would need to look up to look down.