Of ambition and giant amoebae: Fear of a literate planet

So began something I wrote nigh on twenty years ago, borrowing from the title of an issue of one of my favourite comicbooks, The Defenders, by Marvel Comics.

Marvel has come a long way since then, making a lot of money from movies, and cutting the heart and soul out of the engine room, the comics, in the process. However, that is not the point of this essay.

The point of this essay is quite different.

The Left, and the Right, are two sides of the same coin. This has never been clearer than now, at the end of a siecle in western history, and the beginning of a new wave of civil unrest, world war, and defining global movements that will soon clash head to head.

In the Jazz Age so-called, the 1920s through early 1930s, Jazz was associated with its negro and somewhat New Orleans-centric roots. It was a racial and subcultural phenomenon.

It was elevated when it was adopted as a form of social warfare by socialists desiring to revolutionise American and more broadly western culture. It was a means of attacking the fundamental decency of a free society by appealing to its venality and its sexuality. Because the word, "jazz" was originally a synonym for, to put it crudely, as it was meant to be put, "fucking". "Jazz" music was not romance music. It was fucking music. Likewise the "protest" music of the 1960s. This was not music and soft lights and romance. It was sexuality. Adolescence. Overconfidence. Blindness.

Which leads us to the here and now, and giant amoebae. A giant amoeba is an amorphous monster, akin to The Blob, which sucks things in an slowly dissolves them. People, ideas and cultures don't immediately suffer magical annihilation. They slowly dissoluate before our eyes in gory horrifying detail, losing coherence, losing the majestic spark of life and intellectual promise with which we are born and which our groupings, at their highest, represent.

So to rap music. It is a sad indictment on the once-great NAACP that now it is left with its rump constituency of professional victims, protestors and relict activists, loud when unnecessary and yet paradoxically silent over the latest socialist and manipulative export of black culture- rap music.

Rap music does not elevate. Rap music does not make a protest that is valid, heartfelt or particularly effective. It is the latest in a long line of music tropes intended purely to cater to the lowest common denominator. And as is the case all too often, it is also another example of black people being their own worst enemy. Black music such as rap music is not shall we say soul music. Nor does it espouse a valid culture. It is socialist manipulation using capitalist ideation against itself, whilst allowing the total exploitation of black men and the uncaring and relentless subordination and exploitation of black women. By promoting pseudo-rebellion and ghetto radicalism it also promulgates the worst stereotypes imaginable on all the races that exist today in western culture.

It is also, and not accidentally, preparing the ground for the embrace by first black culture and then the wider culture, of Islam.

This must stop. And only the black American culture can stop it.