Two Commercials asking for Donations that Explain Racial Differences

A commercial for aid that is difficult to watch

We just finished discoursing on veterinarians and the overwhelming propensity for these caregivers of  animals to be white (Hollywood-films, of course,expecting).

A friend and I recently talked about the tendency for professions in America to be in violation of Black Run America’s (BRA) rules if there is a dearth of Black people employed in that particular field.

He then asked if I had read the article on Michael Oher’s new memoir in USA Today, since the “Michael Oher Story” piece written here was once a popular entry that search engine optimization (SEO) pointed web browsers to at a rate of 100 – 300 per day before that Google decided to pull the algorithm code to Stuff Black People Don’t Like.

I said yes, I had read it. The conversation then turned to how a number of white people found themselves to be at fault for the wreckage of inner cities (in the case of Oher, Memphis) believing that their flight was the precipitating cause behind the collapse.

None of this had to have occurred, these whites tell themselves, if we had only stayed behind to endure the high rates of criminality. We could have had an impact on those unwanted Black youth whose fathers — and in some cases like Oher’s, even whose mothers — don’t care about them and their future:

I Beat the Odds opens with the adult Oher going to meet a woman he spent his childhood fearing: a responsible Memphis social worker named Ms. Bobbie Spivey. She kept track of Michael, one of 12 children born to a crack-addicted mother. (Oher had almost no contact with his father, who was murdered when Oher was in high school.)
In 1994, when 7-year-old Michael was in the second grade, he and his brother Carlos were put in foster care because his mother would periodically leave her children (including a 14-month-old) alone for days to use drugs.
When he was 11, he moved back in with her, but her drug use made and continues to make her an unreliable mother.
The topic of his mother pains Oher. “We were always loved,” he says. “When she was clean and sober, she took care of us.”

My friend then asked me if I had ever watched the commercials for sending 10, 15 or 20 cents a day to Africa to help starving children or those depressing ads with celebrities hawking texts to a certain phone number on your screen for malaria nets to save third world kids.

I said yes, but that the emotional pull of these advertisements had long since subsided. Immediately, he responded with this question: “But have you seen the commercials with Sarah McLachlan for abused animals?”
t was at that moment that a flood of emotions washed over my mind, the melody of McLachlan’s haunting song Angel indelibly etched onto my soul, the images of abused and neglected animals tearing at my heart.

I could only mutter an affirmative yes.

Animals do not have free will. Dogs and cats provide man with companionship that to many represents a relationship as real and loving as any another human could give. But animals cannot care for themselves. Only sociopaths and those with severe mental disorders would dare mistreat or harm a defenseless, helpless animal.

Humans make choices that impact their lives and their families. Nearly 3/4 of Black babies in America are born out-of-wedlock, the sperm donors (loosely defined as “fathers”) deciding that the State can provide a much better opportunity for success then they can.

Desensitized to Black suffering?

Is it because of my knowledge of hate facts like these that I have been desensitized to would-be heart-tugging commercials filled with images of Black people in need of just 15 cents a day to subsist?

Is it because of my awareness of hate facts like these that Sarah McLachlan’s plea for abused and maimed animals overcomes me with emotion?

People who do evil to animals, defenseless and trusting, have a special place in Hell awaiting them. But at the the same time, when one understands the problems plaguing Africa (high population growth), the empathy for their situation fades entirely.

Having traveled to all of the major cities in America teeming with an inner-city population (read “Black”) that most people residing in those cities – even Disingenuous White Liberals – pay handsomely to avoid, I have lost all empathy for that particular community.

Their problems are not due to white racism or white privilege or The Man; no, their problems are due to the condition they have created for themselves with their own hands.

So my sympathy lies with those people who cannot avoid contact with these people (Black or white) because they don’t have the means to escape.Those who have no escape are the true victims of BRA; those who have no escape are the true victims of the oppressive smothering of any serious discussion in this country about race.

But my truest and deepest sympathy lies with those animals in that Sarah McLachlan appeal, as defenseless as babes, that can’t help the condition they find themselves in.

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