Friday, January 22, 2010
Playing the Race Card & Hard Pimpin, yo.
It has come to my attention that Troy Henry, not satisfied with plastering Dutch Morial’s picture all over his website (Mrs. Morial made him take it down), trying to align himself with the first Black Mayor of New Orleans, has now posted pictures of Dr. Martin Luther King, pleading with us to watch his video, Troy Henry Tribute to Martin Luther King. Since Mister Henry announced that he wished race were not an issue in this election, I find it nauseating beyond all measure that he would pander to feelings of racism, trying to get himself elected solely on skin color. His credentials, like being president of a water company that has several ‘presidents’, or bragging about his ‘consulting firm’, a partner of which is now suing him for using company funds to support his campaign, certainly speak for themselves. To my ears, they speak Naginomics, a shallow attempt to pander to the worst fears of his own people, in order to gain complete power over them, giving him the best vantage point to lie & steal, just as he is now doing to his partners & anyone buying his Mayoral Race shenanigans. MLK would probably have him escorted from the building. Then of course, is Election Time Lunatic, John George. As an official Dangerous Person of the Internet, I wonder why full page glossy pamphlets picturing Mister Georges shining face are crammed into my mail box, taking up space usually reserved for Netflix, pornography ads, and ladies underwear, usually left around 3am (just ring the bell next time, darlin. I’m up…). I guess he thinks that because I live in ‘The ‘Hood”, I must be black, and about to squander my vote on the likes of Troy Henry. Not a chance, Georgie. By the way, the Marigny, while not anything like your rich ass gated community or the private school where you send your kids, all in the name of keeping it real with New Orleans, is rated in the top ten up & coming neighborhoods, nationally. Of course, if my lunatic father were a poker machine magnate, and had named me ‘Nike Georges’, I’d want to go to private school, too. Those playground beatings can get ugly. Anyway… John Georges didn’t stop there. Oh, no siree bob. At evening rush hour, he has four teenage African American girls, standing on the four corners of Elysian Fields & Caliborne Avenue, looking every bit of their 12 to 16 years, and waving his ‘Vote for John Georges’ signs around, to the horn beeping and cat calling of any passerby who finds this exciting during a two light wait at rush hour. Hard Pimping and pandering to the best & brightest, yo. I hope those gals are well paid. I’m sure they don’t understand the ramifications of selling out their own folks while using their bodies as bait. John Georges, certainly does, however. I wonder why Nike, Lisa & Zana aren’t out there? I thought Mister Georges was all about ‘the Family Business’ as this full color propaganda says. I guess HIS kids are only allowed to get pimped out in gated communities. “Most important to me is my family & church” the flyer declares. What’s important to you, John ‘Douche bag’ Georges, is winning at any cost, pandering to race, spewing hate towards bloggers who seek the truth and pushing your fucking poker machines down the throats of any & all of the poorest, seeking hope while you drain them of their very last drop. You, John Georges & Troy Henry, are what’s wrong with New Orleans, a pariah to us all, and will be forgotten too soon to have your actions pinned on you properly, guaranteeing you that special place in hell, all the same, for rich & powerful assholes hungry for more power for the sake of power, and willing to step on anyone or anything to get it. Thanks for the new dart board, by the way, Johnny old chum. Too bad it isn’t voodoo doll I’m punching holes in. Lord David Skull Club New Orleans
Posted by Lord David at 2:07 PM
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Great observations and what a way to peal back the layers and take a look and let the rest of us know what you see. The wind blows wild and I may move, but politicians lie and I am not fooled.
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