BL/acc Mannifesto

[Anonymous No.13659590]

(From DeKwami O'gu'Kwiklius' opening speech of the FuturoAfroMagic Festival in Minneapolis. Written from memory.)

(Long silence in the standing room.)

My Brilliant Brothers. My Beautiful Sisters.

(Crowd sits.)

I stand before you today with great sadness and reverence, for a NeoSpectre haunts the white man - haunts WyPipo. He who has controlled empires. He who stands before the edge of time with no place to go. He who has held mastery over the fist of 'lesser' races. His economy betrays him. His military compels him. His industry threatens him. And everywhere a great weakness.

Yes, my Brothers. The white man stands at the precipice, peering into his own undoing. But do not rejoice, my Brothers. For this, this terrible condition, could indeed befall every One of us. Do not look gladly into his abyss, my Brothers, for this is your own utterance of that terrible word: Nigga. Yes, NIGGA. And if you utter it, He will pull YOU in!

(Crowd clapping and whooping.)

(Short pause as the clapping fades.)

This is the great contest of our time. Let us not forget the great sacrifice of our BLACK SOLDIERS!

Jesse Owens.

Jo Jackson!

ROSA PARKS!

The Hell-fighters!

Tommie Smith and John Carlos.

(Staring into the awing silence of the room.)

These, our Black Warriors; these men and women did not simply fight. No. They did not only have to be beaten and bruised by the hooded masters. No, not only this. They did not have to be degraded in the streets, no stone of which was in place against their creation; but without a single act of recognition which softened the eyes of their masters.

No, these men and women had proven their worth. And for all of it, all their sacrifice, they stood defiant within the silent gaze which could not even utter the word: Nigga.

(Choruses and echoes of THASS RI')

[Anonymous No.13659598]

No. It was all the louder in its silence. More deafening in its awe than bullwhips and burning crosses. The piercing eyes of the crowd staring at the DEAD NIGGER.

(Small crowd in the back stands to stomp their feet as those in front shake their heads, looking downwards.)

Here the whypipo peered out in contemplation. At that calm body, the DEAD NIGGER.

(Shaking heads, uttering "shameful.")

YES, MY BROTHERS! There is no denying it. This is the moment when their tactics changed. They moved from genocide to conversion, as they do in all conquests. That which they could not destroy they were going to include. They were going to white us out. Bleach us into their false Greek temples. Baptise us in the burning waters of NeoChristianity! Commoditise us on the conveyor belt of spectacles and the quickening pace of Accursed Whiteness.

(Amens. Hand out to pause crowd.)

Yes, My Brothers. You know it to be true. And verily does the enlightened man bring a curse unto the blessed through his wickedness and forked tongue. The culture which welcomes only to divide further, to send unto all new colonies, enchained to invisible slave ships. You can't truss it, My Brothers! You. Cannot. Truss. It.

(Amens. Hand out again.)

The NeoSlaveTrade arrives from the future - andtherearenoreparations!!! NO! No reparations. What those who praise the quickening of capital don't realise is that the liberation has been a deeper slavery for us. A slowing of time.

(Amens.)

Now, let me ask you, my brothers, have we not paid our debt in full? Have we not paid our respects to these masters? In trust, in recognition, we stood behind them, built their places of worship, their museums, their schools, their hospitals, malls, and viewing halls. We cleaned the garbage from their dining establishments and accepted the most dishonourable service in their wars.

(Amens.)

In turn they wanted nothing of us! They lengthened our leash and gave us a barrel organ!

(Mixed choruses of Amens, THASS RI'ing, roaring, and almost howling.)

Like good Jobs we accepted every punishment and the vile pestilence of their street corners. Liquor stores and bent ball hoops.

Yet We made Amends!

(Amens.)

We made amends with the trash they surrounded our communities with, and we fought the war on the grounds upon which it could only be fought. We made a competition of it. If the capital productions available to us were nothing but a NeoGhetto, then we, WE, were going to live up to it and make it OUR destined culture.

[Anonymous No.13659610]

(THASS RI'!)

And WE, my brothers and sisters, WE have arrived. WE are the future which our people laid out for us.

('MMHMM's)

WE played the monkey with the crooked hoop. And WE became best at it.

("MMMHMM")

WE sang the epics of the smallest and most fatal civil wars.

("MMHMMM", with echoes.)

WE donned the blackface costume and slang fried chickens and BLACK DRANK!

("MMMHMMM", rising now.)

WE sold our own deaths and harvested the organs without any Chinese Market to support us!

("MMMMMHMMMMMMM", standing now and heads shaking in agreement.)

WE worked at McDonalds when we knew we weren't going to make it, and gave every bit of leftover paper we had to those who still had a chance. The GRIP of black community. The cybernetics of AfroCO-OPeration!

All while NeoChinatown hasn't changed a bit. Just stankier and even more ran down. More missing dog posters than WhyChillun in Holl'Wood.

(Mixed choruses of MHHHMMMMs, Amens, THASS RI'ing, and roaring.)

My Brothers. An intelligence resides within you. An Outsideness. A Blackness beyond the darknesses of Africa and the fall of the West. You are winning the battle of technical contests and spectacles. The best basketball players in the world. The best fighters in the world. The Fastest Man in the World. And now you are entering those last few arenas, the whitest of sports, which we all know even You do not enjoy.

(Crowd laughs.)

[Anonymous No.13659623]

But you endure because you know this is the only testing ground of the Black Man.

My Brothers, to adopt the phrasing of our masters, the why'the'risss, the hyperenslaving exigence of the NeoStruggle is upon us. We cannot, we must not falter now. The technosphere cannot be beyond us, for our people must endure so that the Great Homeland shall once again realise its Freedom!

(Hands in air.)

We are fast, My Brothers. And what we have done in the arena of sport we must now complete on the field of battle. The great war of culture and technology is before us, and although we have many successes already we must not falter. For these white devils, these SUPREMACISTS, will try to kill us with their ideas.

Let us infiltrate every last establishment of the Western World and show them that we are not to be messed with any longer. Those enduring Puritans who attempt Thanksgiving with every meeting. Those devils. But we shall not be overcome by camera tricks and conversion into digital-age genocide. We shall not be revolutionised into a moving image commodity, for we have seen what has become of the White Man. The Whypipo Revolution was not televised, and what became of them?

Or it was televised but it changed nothing in their spirits. They became spirits, like the Great Job of the Natives warned them about.

(Deeper, remorseful whooping, and stomping of feet.)

No, my Black Brothers, The Revolution will not be televised, but it will be rewritten by the Producers. It will be downloaded, shared, rewritten, purchased at black market prices, and bingewatched. The Situationists could never have known the power of detournement arriving from the future. Of the psychogeography of the medium without a message. Of the sitting BBC waiting for its revolution. The Revolution has not been televised, and the White Man is too stupid to recognise it anyways. For there are worse drugs than crack, my brothers.

(Amens.)

You endured, and you won the drug war of the soul. Them glowniggers tried to do you in, all of our families, our Beautiful Black Queens - don't think I forgot you now. They tried to do you in, but you endured with humility. Human, all too human, as they say. And the glowniggers displaced their own Pyrrhic victory onto their own people. It is whites who suffer most from all this, and we will take their places neither in shame nor pride. But let us pray for duh whypipo as we rise.

(Amen.)

[Anonymous No.13659629]

Needs a lot of capitalization edits, but whatever.