Letter from a Free Man

Hola mi gente,
Today, we celebrate the founding of the United States of America. As a person of Puerto Rican descent, I find it difficult and hypocritical at the very least to witness all the bullshit jingoism about values such as freedom, democracy, and bravery as it cannibalizes its colony, Puerto Rico (see here and here).

I once took a speaker at a conference to task for claiming that the U.S. is oldest democracy. A democracy for whom? I asked. Was it a democracy for the First Nation people who were subjected to genocide and the Africans who were brought here against their will and enslaved? Was it a democracy for women? Is it a democracy for the millions languishing in our prisons and jails, the victims of a drug war intended to socially control black and brown people? Miss me with that bullshit

Reflecting on these essential contradictions in U.S. democracy, I remembered the following letter. In August of 1865, a Colonel P.H. Anderson of Big Spring, Tennessee, wrote to his former slave, Jourdon Anderson, and requested that he come back to work on his farm. Jourdon -- who, since being emancipated, had moved to Ohio, found paid work, and was now supporting his family -- responded spectacularly by way of the letter (a letter which, according to newspapers at the time, he dictated). The letter can be found in the excellent book, Been in the Storm So Long: The Aftermath of Slavery.

 Cherished as a social document and praised as a masterpiece of satire, Anderson’s letter has been anthologized and published all over the world. Rather than summarize the highlights in this letter, I'll present here in its entirety for your edification (make sure you read to the end). For me the letter highlights how oppressed and marginalized people can use humor and satire to expose the brutality of systemic injustices. Click here for a brief update about the later years of Jourdon and his family.

Letter from a Free Man to his Former Master

Anderson wrote a satirical letter to his former master after he asked him to return to work for him

Dayton, Ohio,
August 7, 1865

To My Old Master, Colonel P.H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee

Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin's to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.

I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here. I get twenty-five dollars a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy,—the folks call her Mrs. Anderson,—and the children—Milly, Jane, and Grundy—go to school and are learning well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday school, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated. Sometimes we overhear others saying, "Them colored people were slaves" down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Colonel Anderson. Many darkeys would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you master. Now if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.

As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost-Marshal-General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you were disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years, and Mandy twenty years. At twenty-five dollars a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our clothing, and three doctor's visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams's Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq., Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past, we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night; but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.

In answering this letter, please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve—and die, if it come to that—than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood. The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.

Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.

From your old servant,

Jourdon Anderson.

A group of escaped slaves in Virginia in 1862,  Library of Congress.

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My name is Eddie and I’m in recovery from civilization…

Sunday Sermon [Donald Trump Fires Back!]

Hola mi Gente,

I just love all these “pragmatic progressives” who cite “electability” as one of the reasons to vote for corporate shill, Hillary Clinton. It seems that every day she steps into some pile of shit or sticks her foot in her mouth and then breaks it in an awkward attempt to extricate it. Most recently she claimed the Reagans were AIDS activists? ::blank stare:: And no, an apology (mangled as it was) is not enough when you consider all the people who were erased by her revisionist history. 

Later, she asked the question, "Where was Bernie when I was trying to pass universal health care in 93-94," to which the twitterverse responded by going viral with a photo of Bernie Sanders literally standing behind her while she was giving a speech on healthcare. She is quite possibly one of the worst campaigners this side of Al Gore. LOL

Meanwhile, Trump supporters better be careful when they come to NYC. Today, I’m turning over the Sunday Sermon to Donald “I Got Big Hands” Trump.

* * *

Make America Great Again, Pastel pencils, 2016 by Illma Gore*

Donald Trump Fires Back!

A Special [un]Common Sense Commentary by Donald J. Trump

(All comments by Trump¹ )

Since the creative force behind the [un]Common Sense blog has seen fit to attack me on numerous occasions, I have accepted to respond and meet my critics head-on, balls-on-the-table.

I mean… I’m just using that term as a figure of speech! 

::adjusts crotch::

Perhaps most disturbing is their attempt to imply I have a micro penis. I should sue, but instead, I’ll just clear this up: I have big hands. I only fantasize about micro penises. There’s a huge difference between the two, and I think starting such a rumor is just sloppy blogging and bad form. I’ve also been called a pedophile! ² That is Just plain wrong, and I am instructing my people to look into this and we’re most definitely suing the spic-ass motherfucker who writes this blog.

It has also been implied on this blog that listening to me is an act of evil. This is patent nonsense. While I do lie, misrepresent, and disinform compulsively, on air and off, and hate poor people, Muslims, Mexicans, and dark-skinned humans, is it accurate to call these traits evil? And yes, I do snort huge amounts of meth and go prowling for faggots with Melania and Bill, and we all pile out of Bill’s jeep and chase queers and they cheer while Melania and I fuck them with our His and Hers leather, rhinestone-studded strap-on (we even gang-banged Ben Carson once!), but calling me “evil” is quite a stretch. Nice try, Yemíl ³, but nobody’s going to swallow this nonsense.

Goddammit, Eddie! For the sake of argument, imagine if straight-laced, God-fearing (latently homosexual) homophobes Christians, who I have successfully conned with years of reality TV shows and my books -- which are the best, actually -- happens to read [un]Common Sense’s childish attempts at humor. Think what would happen! 

They may stop accepting simplistic, nonsensical explanations of how this world works; they may even decide I’m a dishonest, pushy, constipated, bully in disguise with an unusually small dick and yuge hands, willing to say anything to garner attention. Shit, this could incite the spics to read The Open Veins of Latin America or take a course on Icing Orange Muthafuckas. And then imagine if this spread. It would be Yuge!

Do we really want the chaos that would result from so many of the little people thinking without my help?

In closing, the treatment I’ve received in this blog is a perfect example of why we must resist the free exchange of ideas and reject information sources that don’t have the smarts to be owned by multinational corporations.

Fuck You Eddie,

Donald

* * *

My name is Eddie and I’m in recovery from civilization… 

Notes:

* “Make America Great Again” was created to evoke a reaction from its audience, good or bad, about the significance we place on our physical selves. One should not feel emasculated by their penis size or vagina, as it does not define who you are. Your genitals do not define your gender, your power, or your status.

Simply put, you can be a massive prick, despite what is in your pants.

1. Not really.

2. Eddie, editor of the [un]Common Sense blog, would like to point out that he’s never called Trump a pedophile. He claims, instead, that Donald is a pet-o-phile, meaning he sodomizes dogs and other household pets.

3. It has been documented that those who disagree with the [un]Common Sense’s political commentary often resort to calling it’s editor, Yemil. As yet, it is not known what rhetorical purpose this serves.