Sunday, October 29, 2017



BSC, CA – The family I was born into was strange now as I look backwards in time. I could have been some Macbeth character with my grandmother, aunt, and mother as the noted 3 witches. Except, I didn't see these women at a crossroads stirring a pot all Goth'd out. But they were just as good at calling the future or seeing the truth, especially my aunt [not ant] or Auntie.

In early 1961, my activist career started when I met and shook hands with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. who looked nothing like the posed statue commissioned by Obama. After the meeting, I remember being amazed that there were no other kids walking over to meet Dr. King. It would have made it easier for me to muster up my courage being in the 10th Grade, but as I stood there, I knew I was witnessing history. I was never going to be this close to a man I saw in the pages of Ebony and Jet magazines on a regular basis. I said a prayer, it got answered, and I walked over and made my history. Plus, this was a great man. You could feel he had a mission.

It would be years before Dr. King would return to Louisville but in the ensuing sit-in demonstrations that were the model back then, all my school friends got arrested at least once, many more than once, but not me. I had told the fam that an after-school project was going on so I would be a little late after school every day. I wore glasses, I was a teacher's son, and I never caused any trouble. Like Ferris said, “They bought it,” except for once [before I did get outed] when we were all watching the 6 o'clock news in our usual spots and Auntie looked at me and said, “You aren't involved in any of this nonsense, are you?” That was Auntie.

When I returned home from college that November in '63, it's possible that Oswald may not have been shot yet. Things seemed to move like jello, grief was so thick. Everyone's eyes were red and many people were still crying. My aunt was one of them. In the black community, support for Kennedy was pretty unanimous.

As soon as she saw me, she said, “Johnson did this. It's a shame they did this to such a young man. He was just too good.”

A day later I watched Oswald killed live and my aunt said, “They killed him to shut him up.”

In those days everyone had an opinion. There was no internet and no one had the time to go to the library and micro-fish facts unless you were rich, a professional student, or it was part of your vocation.

The next political assassination was Malcolm X, a figure that was more fully understood after his autobiography was published. He was not a strong figure outside the pages of Jet in my hometown. We were Southern, not Big City East Coast.

Meanwhile, Dr, King had grown in national coverage. Like with Oswald, King was first called a communist, but of course blacks and open-minded people were not buying this mainstream flag. My aunt like a lot of people, started to murmur about Dr. King's safety. Undaunted, King marched forward, ever forward, for black people, or Negroes, as was the day to be called. Then King made a fatal mistake that almost no one realized at the time. The good doctor expanded his call for equality to poor people in general. The South was really about to rise again.

Shortly thereafter Dr. King, now a regular on national TV if there was a call for it, made a speech mimicking Moses, after that prophet had pissed off God one time too many. Getting to the Promised Land was now [then] taken away from Moses and God told him so. Moses died seeing the Promised Land on the former side of the river. His remains went into the new land but not him.

For all my readers who have never seen live B&W TV, it was really something. The 'liveness' was spontaneous and infectious. For the black community, then a segregated sub-culture apart from white and Spanish/Mexican enclaves, whenever anyone of color was on the tube everybody watched the presentation. Now, with King having been drawn into the validity of the war effort through the depletion of young black men from the hood to bullets and heroin, even Ali tuned in whenever King was on the air.

We all sat or stood there in a small family huddle, my mother and aunt standing. The room was tense and he started his speech. As soon as King said, “I may not make it there with you...,” Auntie burst into tears. We all turned and looked at her as she explained, “He knows they are about to kill him. Oh no!!”

She wasn't hysterical but no amount of talking to her would console her. She had no logical reasoning except for his words used and what she felt from them. By this time I knew Auntie had the gift and I paid attention to what she said. I was hoping she was wrong but I too had a sense of foreboding after her outburst. I was hoping King's remarks meant we had a long civil rights fight ahead of us.

A week later on the second floor balcony of a Southern city motel, Dr. King died from a single gun shot by a sniper. Again it was crying time for a lot of people around the world, but not everyone.

Approximately a year later, after some back and forth, Bobby Kennedy, a thorn-in-the-side to the Mafia, cough Hoffa, declared he was running for President. The country took a breath of fresh air after a Chicago Democratic Convention that was right out of Clockwork Orange. On my favorite TV viewing night of the week, my evening started with [I was living in the Kentucky time zone] the 6:30 national news covering the latest on the war. 7PM was The Rat Patrol, an ABC Army shoot 'em up. Then there was Combat, with Vic Morrow. Then another half hour action series featuring gun play, and then live coverage of the Chicago Democratic National Convention. Then it was the news again, but by that time I was adrenalined out.

Maybe a month later [since I am not checking the dates] I stayed up to watch Bobby Kennedy give his acceptance speech in California and then got another live TV moment. After the Rolling Stones Altamont concert on Dec. 6, 1969, the 60s and what they stood for officially died.

One day not long after RFK, I was politicizing about something and my grandmother repeated one of her adages that I had heard most of my life. “In the last days, all of Man's secrets will be revealed.” This time it just hit me wrong and I chided her by asking, “Just what does that mean, anyway?”

“Just what it says, 'in the last days', in Your day, all of Man's secrets will be uncovered for everyone to see.”

“Good,” I snapped back. “I'm tired of all this secret crap. I want to know the truth!”

“Do you? Do you really want to know all the truth?”

I narrowed my gaze and said, “Yes, I do.”

Fast forward. Several days ago I ran the story about the JFK Files being dumped by President Trump, or more correctly, not stopping the Congressional Limit to make the files public domain. The reason for this action was the growing indictment of the government part now being called 'the deep state' but was once known as the shadow government.

This story featured several clips of Roger Stone, a Washington insider, ex-lobbyist, and friend to Richard Nixon [“Nixon could make a mean martini”] commenting on the President's decision. Roger Stone first was featured on my radar when he was barred from the World Cannabis Congress that happened in LA last month. Now this same Stone is featured here but the big news is what comes forth in this video of Stone's book-signing in 2013.

As I listened to Stone draw up his conclusions based on all the clues he presents, many of which I had heard of before, I knew that at long last, I was hearing who was behind the betrayal and how. The why was obvious. While they were all in on it, there had to be a point guy, and in Dallas it had to be LBJ. This detailed account expertly put together by Roger Stone also answers the question of the marksman who probably really killed Martin Luther King, making James Earl Ray another patsy like Oswald. Since this is a 2013 video, the news just presented can't be called breaking. To me though, Auntie was right. Thanks for the tip, John.

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