Meditation for August 25th, 2016
Dutty Boukman
On August 14th, 2016, a slave by the name of Dutty Boukman performed a ceremony at Bois Cayman by sacrificing a goat, making an oath and swearing to rid Haiti of the French slave owning oppressors. The Devil Himself heard this oath, fed on the blood of the sacrifice and blessed the slaves of Haiti to uprise and win independence, but not until a bloody uprising ensued.
Haiti won Her independence in 1804, but by then the blood was spilt and the Devil wanted His payment.
Haiti has never known peace. The United States invaded Haiti in 1919 and remained there until 1934. Hurricane after hurricane beats that side of the island, for the Dominican Republic shares the western side of the island and has a racial disdain for black french speaking refugees and even spent time ethnically cleansing it’s side of the island of darker skinned people, and leaves the nation devastated.
Was the deal worth it?
Depends on what you think. Is freedom worth continual warfare, violent racial prejudice from neighbors, civil war, terrible weather, famine, corrupt governments and total poverty? If you’ve ever been a slave this might be a harder question to answer then your typical American chuckling at a fake meditation blog by that silly David Everett Fisher.
I study this powerful spell because I have decided to study the pro and cons of making deals with the Devil Himself.
I want to rid Oregon of Californian immigrants.
This would mean the earthquake of all earthquakes. This would mean losing several miles of shoreline. This could mean a civil war between urban centers and the rural areas surrounding. This could mean being invaded by the sovereign nation of the United States of America and being oppressed by their idea of democracy until they can find a stable, but stern dictator to run our small nation. We’d have marines charging up Seaside and Cannon beaches.
I’m can’t say I’m not willing to rid our great land of these parasites that keep showing up at our doorsteps and demanding our homes and our jobs because they completely raped the land that had no water of every drop of life. They show up in man buns, ideas of culture and a fake liberalism not seen since FDR.
I debate this as the Devil Himself rubs his hands together waiting for me to make the deal. I have a goat tethered to a fig tree waiting to be bled out on the Oregon soil.
This land is our land. This isn’t an overprice peninsula in a bay or a desert nightmare spreading for miles over barren hills. This is the land of rivers, mountains, beautiful public coast line, high deserts, wild horses, and green for as far as the eye can see.
But that green is slowly going away because we have to cut it down to make condos with Little Big Burgers, Laughing Planets, Salt & Straws on the bottom story for Californians to live. Their subculture babies already moved up here and turned our ethnically diverse neighborhoods into black pants patch work playgrounds and now the mainstream wants a piece of the playground and are willing to pay more, but not as much as in San Jose and La Jolla, to have it.
They produce moving propaganda in the form of a sketch comedy show. They pay the LA Times and the NY Times to pump the Oregon vibe up. We’re weird. We’re living on part time jobs. We never grow up. We fight pirates with our friend tinker bell. We let you open a restaurant out of your broken down RV. We will fall for anything you do if it reminds us of a past era – especially if it’s the 80s! You can have chickens that aren’t for food and ride ridiculous tall bikes.
You can open a vineyard in the surrounding countryside. Shit, some people are retiring from the movie industry to open vineyards in the desert. You can open a slick brewery in Bend or Hood River. You can open up a farm that grows some forgotten breed of potato and get into metal fabrication art on the border of Idaho. You can live in a cabin in the mountain and write that great American novel or you can surf on the coast and live in a VW bus while you wait for your tiny house to be built.
We are here for your ridiculous lifestyle that you stuffed deep down inside while you were some mundane jerk in California.
I sit here with my obsidian knife staring this goat in the eye and think if I have the heart to kill this thing to rid this great landscape of the virus that is Californians.
Do I learn from Dutty Boukman’s mistakes?