states and countries while at the same time accepting all of the benefits of this 1. I think that what bothers me most is your review of my dreambook in which you call me “crazy.”
Abdul smiles. The smile of sheer mockery that makes you want to pulverize.
Strange, Herman says, for isn’t the Koran accused of lacking chronological order, and hasn’t your prophet Muhammed been accused of being prolix contradictory and unclear by critics? Accused of inaccuracy because he confuses Miriam, Moses’ sister, with Mary.
Besides, “crazy” is a strange description for a man to be using who cane-whipped those flappers outside the Cotton Club just because they wore their dresses short, LaBas accuses.
I didn’t do it, but they had it coming. This time a cunning smile sweeps Abdul’s face.
The girls pointed you out at the lineup, why do you deny it, Abdul?
Because I didn’t do it, but they still deserved what they got, wearing their dresses like that. Tricks. Sluts. Swinging their asses nasty.
Maybe they felt that they should decide themselves what was best for them to wear, Abdul. It wasn’t any of your business. And if you weren’t the person who meted out those beatings of the high-yellow chorus girls, why were you suspiciously loitering about the Cotton Club?
None of your business, gris-gris man, Abdul utters with contempt.
Sounds as if you’ve picked up the old Plymouth Rock bug and are calling it Mecca. In the ancient Egyptian religions the emblems used in ritual were so bold that foreign countries burned their temples of worship and accused the participants of “obscenity” and “pornography.”
Abdul sees that the doorway is empty. Deprived of an audience, he changes his demeanor. He suddenly becomes polite affable patient reasonable.
O.K. LaBas, Herman. You got me. Johnny James Chicago South Side. Are you satisfied? I wasn’t born with a caul on my face, PaPa LaBas. Nor was my coming predicted by a soothsayer as yours was, Black Herman, the old woman who predicted that you would be “the marvel of your age.” I haven’t developed a Hoo Doo psychiatry as you have, PaPa LaBas, nor can I talk to animals or spend 1 dollar twice as you’ve done, Herman. You see, while you are cloistered protected by your followers and patrons and clients I’m out here on the street watching what was once a beautiful community become a slave hole. People are beginning to trickle in here from down home and I’ll bet that sooner or later there will be an exodus rivaling the 1 of the Good Book. Who is going to help them? Happy Dust is here now. What strange enslaving drugs will be here later? Where are these people going to work and who is going to feed them? Are they going to eat incense, candles? Maybe what you say is true about the nature of religions which occurred 1000s of years ago, but how are we going to survive if they have no discipline? Look. I spent 9 long years in prison for stabbing a man who wanted to evict my mother because she wouldn’t fuck him. I walked into the house 1 day and there he was, her clothes nearly off and his grubby fat fingers plying her flesh. 9 years I was in the clink and 2 of them in solitary confinement. It was then that I began to read omnivorously. I always wondered why the teachers just threw the knowledge at us when we were in school, why they didn’t care whether we learned or not. I found that the knowledge which they had made into a cabala, stripped of its terms and the private codes, its slang, you could learn in a few weeks. It didn’t take 4 years, and the 4 years of university were set up so that they could have a process by which they would remove the rebels and the dissidents. By their studies and the ritual of academics the Man has made sure that they are people who will serve him. Not 1 of them has equaled the monumental work of J. A. Rogers, a 1-time Pullman porter. Some of these people with degrees going around here shouting that they are New Negroes are really
Abdul smiles. The smile of sheer mockery that makes you want to pulverize.
Strange, Herman says, for isn’t the Koran accused of lacking chronological order, and hasn’t your prophet Muhammed been accused of being prolix contradictory and unclear by critics? Accused of inaccuracy because he confuses Miriam, Moses’ sister, with Mary.
Besides, “crazy” is a strange description for a man to be using who cane-whipped those flappers outside the Cotton Club just because they wore their dresses short, LaBas accuses.
I didn’t do it, but they had it coming. This time a cunning smile sweeps Abdul’s face.
The girls pointed you out at the lineup, why do you deny it, Abdul?
Because I didn’t do it, but they still deserved what they got, wearing their dresses like that. Tricks. Sluts. Swinging their asses nasty.
Maybe they felt that they should decide themselves what was best for them to wear, Abdul. It wasn’t any of your business. And if you weren’t the person who meted out those beatings of the high-yellow chorus girls, why were you suspiciously loitering about the Cotton Club?
None of your business, gris-gris man, Abdul utters with contempt.
Sounds as if you’ve picked up the old Plymouth Rock bug and are calling it Mecca. In the ancient Egyptian religions the emblems used in ritual were so bold that foreign countries burned their temples of worship and accused the participants of “obscenity” and “pornography.”
Abdul sees that the doorway is empty. Deprived of an audience, he changes his demeanor. He suddenly becomes polite affable patient reasonable.
O.K. LaBas, Herman. You got me. Johnny James Chicago South Side. Are you satisfied? I wasn’t born with a caul on my face, PaPa LaBas. Nor was my coming predicted by a soothsayer as yours was, Black Herman, the old woman who predicted that you would be “the marvel of your age.” I haven’t developed a Hoo Doo psychiatry as you have, PaPa LaBas, nor can I talk to animals or spend 1 dollar twice as you’ve done, Herman. You see, while you are cloistered protected by your followers and patrons and clients I’m out here on the street watching what was once a beautiful community become a slave hole. People are beginning to trickle in here from down home and I’ll bet that sooner or later there will be an exodus rivaling the 1 of the Good Book. Who is going to help them? Happy Dust is here now. What strange enslaving drugs will be here later? Where are these people going to work and who is going to feed them? Are they going to eat incense, candles? Maybe what you say is true about the nature of religions which occurred 1000s of years ago, but how are we going to survive if they have no discipline? Look. I spent 9 long years in prison for stabbing a man who wanted to evict my mother because she wouldn’t fuck him. I walked into the house 1 day and there he was, her clothes nearly off and his grubby fat fingers plying her flesh. 9 years I was in the clink and 2 of them in solitary confinement. It was then that I began to read omnivorously. I always wondered why the teachers just threw the knowledge at us when we were in school, why they didn’t care whether we learned or not. I found that the knowledge which they had made into a cabala, stripped of its terms and the private codes, its slang, you could learn in a few weeks. It didn’t take 4 years, and the 4 years of university were set up so that they could have a process by which they would remove the rebels and the dissidents. By their studies and the ritual of academics the Man has made sure that they are people who will serve him. Not 1 of them has equaled the monumental work of J. A. Rogers, a 1-time Pullman porter. Some of these people with degrees going around here shouting that they are New Negroes are really
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