Tobacco

Down in North Carolina now, I would cross the mountains twice, because I wanted to attend a rally for the homeless in Charlotte, and then visit the CDC in Atlanta.  The rally (a walk for the homeless) was held in a different location from the one posted on the internet, so that was a non-event.  In the end, I walked through the posted location (Independence Park), noting the different activities – I suppose, alternatives to organized homelessness.

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I had done a lot of work, advocating against smoking, largely by presenting the argument that 10 000 times more people die every year from smoking-related diseases than from pitbulls.  All of this activism as well as activism against meat consumption and work towards racial equality had resulted in the presence of a very strong counter movement that would follow me wherever I went.  These people would show up wherever cameras were present, either lighting up, or buying lots of meat and pork, or trying to present racial issues in a very Black-dominant theme, presumably to be used in law suits against me as documented evidence that these industries were not hurt, and therefore I could not be sued.

I felt the lobby at the motel.  It became increasingly more difficult to work, as the components of my laptop computer would be swapped out with defective ones, and the flash drives would disappear.

Moving down to the CDC in Atlanta, I had wanted to discuss a few issues with people there.  I had been there a few years before on a trip through the city – with my dogs.  The reception had been warm.

Now, I am bounced at the door by Black security, who waves his arms at me extremely authoritatively yelling at me “No Dogs.  No Dogs.  No Dogs.”  His arms waved widely and often, in up and down gestures as if to wipe me from the planet as he yelled.  I am furious.  I had been there with dogs before.  The people inside the CDC had been supportive.  I make a second pass to film the interaction.  This time, the camera visible, the guard is more subdued and calls for backup.  The sign for the Center for Disease Control has been removed.  It can’t be in the picture, I suppose.

I have noted for some time now that all of my interaction with medical and research establishments has been blocked by Black security, and having lived in an all Black neighborhood a couple of years ago, I realize that they consider me to be their dog – slang for undocumented medical experiment of which the subject can have no knowledge of the outcome, values, or experimental process.  Can have no knowledge of whether they are in the control group, or treatment group.  I am in the group that does not get access to medical care.  When they draw blood, who knows where it goes.  Covert biological investigations.  They act like they own my body, and I ask for racial separation.  It is too late.  I have failed to protect myself well enough in the interest of integration, and now they have invaded my body without my permission, controlling both the presence and extent of disease.

After a few hours of sleep at the motel where I am staying, they are in front of my door, the first thing that I see when I walk out the door.  No doubt also on the other end of a camera that constantly monitors me, and everything I say in the interest of their medical experiment.  Their movie, no doubt, is Black Knight Rising, and they consider me to be the psychotic star.  It’s not my movie – not who I am, and I refuse to let them define me.

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