Monday, March 19, 2018

Nat Turner's Secret

(Excerpt from Stafford Battle's Book New African Fables for Adults on Amazon . . . )

Nat Turner's Secret

. . . . I scanned his aura, he was truly Black Mage, the legendary practitioner of the African mystic arts. His thick, wooly beard was salt-pepper gray. His perfectly manicured Afro was jet black; his hair framed his face like a majestic royal crown -- at least once a week he groomed his fro with a minor incantation to keep a perfect oval shape and bright sheen. He wore a pinstriped business suit, pink shirt accompanied with brown gator-skin shoes.  In his right hand was a polished oak walking cane.
Obviously aware of my mental scans that he could have easily blocked, he said aloud, "There is always a shotgun house involved in the swamp. Front door/back door. One window.  Two rooms. No indoor plumbing.  Piss in the bushes.  Squat behind a tree. A green candle always burns in the center of the front room. Watchers are everywhere. Some good, some evil. Send your soul to hell or to New Jersey, just for fun." He chuckled. "Before we go into battle, tell me more about yourself."
"As  you know, I am an orphan. But you would not call me ordinary," I said. "My first Nubian guardians recorded me into the digital annuals as a young, slender woman named Abebe. That observation was only half right. For a few days each month, I am female with the ability to conceive daughters; I can deliver a baby in the appropriate time span, if I chose such a lengthy burden. Some months, I am a functioning male for a day or two, able to sire sons. My appearance hints that I am  approaching 30 years of age despite the fact that I have lived as an adult nearly twice that long -- or longer, I am not sure.  Most of the time, I am just a neutral. I am a damn good fighter when I am neutral. No emotions. But my conjuring is more devastating as a female. The few moments when I had been involved in a firefight as a male are only a blur in my mind.  I don’t remember much – just the shocked expressions of my teachers as they crawled out from underneath the rubble that I had caused. Buildings had been toppled. Steel girdles bent. Stone crushed. Some conjurors described my gender transformations as apocalyptic. I may be the only person in this universe with such abilities."
Mage my mentor paused to take a deep breath. " I will need your special talents.  I wagered with a Hell demon that I could save the life of Nathaniel ‘Nat’ Turner."
I frowned and said, “Turner’s deceased -- been stone cold dead for more than a long time.”  Few normals knew, that Turner was a skilled practitioner when he initiated his slave revolt. I was told that Nat Turner was a hothead, untrustworthy. He willfully disobeyed recommendations from the joint council. Nat with his band of freedom fighters murdered a lot of white folks along with some Blacks who hesistated to join him. The white citizens of Virginia caught, then hanged him. Hundreds of innocent Blacks were accused wrongly then hung as a result of Turner's actions.
Mage said, "Nat is still alive -- sort of. Chained. We will free him. He’s probably anxious to continue his mission.” Mage was broad shouldered, handsome, supremely confident. Again, I remembered online rumors that he had a large harem of women who willingly gave everything they owned to him. My spine prickled. He said, "Demons always cheat when they proposition you. I used such chicanery to my own advantage."
He zapped an annoying mosquito with his cane. The energy blast gouged the trunk of a large evergreen tree draped with choking vines. Smoldering ash flakes filled the clearing but luckily there was no bonfire to alert the enemy. The smoke chased away the insect hordes. Mage scratched his beard. He asked,  “Are you male or female, today?”
I stopped. I took off my extra-large, red, black and green "Vote Obama" hoodie. I hated bras. I never wore them. Then I pull down and removed my silk gym shorts. I tossed my red-striped, Tuesday panties at Mage. He easily caught the token with his walking stick. I stretched to let him get a full view of my present body. His probing eyes made me tingle. His thoughts made me a little horny. The warm moist wind felt good on my trim stomach, shapely thighs, full, succulent buttocks. This was the way people were meant to live; not hiding behind furs or leather or cotton or needless bling. My power necklace combined with wrist bands were the only adornment I needed. Being nude also circumvented a lot of irritating questions about my unusual gender changes. In the fading sunlight, my naked brown skin became a beautiful shade of rare gold.
Mage stared. His open mouth formed a silent “ohhh”. His eyebrows arched.  After a moment, he said, “I will rely on your remarkable conjure strength as a woman. Put your clothes back on. I’m not as saintly as I appear.” He handed my colorful undies to me then turned abruptly away to resume his pace. . . .

(Get the full story on Amazon: New African Fables for Adults. Honest reviews are welcome.)

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Alternate Face of the Future

Early Star Trek aliens always looked like  Europeans with strange facial makeup and weird head gear. Evidently, many 1960s TV producers predicted that white people would easily have conquered the galaxy in the future.  But that is most likely very far from any reality until we actually meet space aliens.

We need to expand our view of a liveable universe that includes many varieties of people and their looks and culture.

Image what Africans would appear to be after years in space and who reluctantly crash-landed on our humble origin world. They would be very different from us. They would have thrived in extreme environments that we did not. But they would still be us.

Do we reject the seemingly Black alien person and say, "You are an ugly SOB. I don't understand your purpose in life."  In those moments, we fail to see the beauty of their inner souls. Humans are cruel at times. We don't mean to be. It is survival in a brutish sense.  However, as we evolve, as all creatures must do, we have to work cooperatively with our environment and other beings, or embrace extinction.  This is destiny. Thus, if you get stupid with your Black neighbor or lover, remember, that regardless of what you initally believed, everyone around you is essential to your well-being.  So, don't hate, try to appreciate and don't judge on appearences or hasty words. Learn to look deeper.

Happy Black History Month!

Sunday, December 17, 2017

Stop Using the "N" Word (Unless you need it)

This is a guest post written by Benjamin Bunn. (Warning: Bunn is nutz! He favors the use of expressive foul language. And he drinks too much.)

The N Word According to B Bunn
(Stolen from the  AFROFuturist Bible)

I stopped using the "nigger" word in my stories and language. (Oops, I said it out loud. My bad.) 

I don't use "nigga" either. (Fuck, I said it again!)

Replying  "You my nigga" is just shitty dick butt stupid! I don't own your black dumbass. Don't want to. It stinks. You can't pick no cotton. That shit is bone-chilling hard!! I tried it for half a day when I was a kid in North Carolina. Better to sell burgers and fries. Smile.

Yet, sometimes I say those "N" words when I am around homies from the old days. We connect. But never around my daughter or nieces or nephews.  They don't need that shitty legacy.

I don't like the "N" word because we can be more creative. Let's give crazy white folks some help when they get mad and want to blame today's social problems on us.  Poor healthcare, no jobs, gun violence, etc. It is all because of niggers. (Sorry! I loss control.)

"Jungle Bunny" -- I really like that one. It shows the true ignorance of the white cracker dipshit who invented it. Spear Chucker is another favorite. I wonder how the hell this Edgar Rice Burroughs Tarzan bullshit survives in the 21st century. Loved his Martian stories, but Burroughs was a total ass-wipe. A true product of his time. Died of a heart attack. Karma. Too many cheeseburgers. Smile.

So, let's take a closer look at the words white people and some ignorant colored folks use to disparage human beings who are not considered to be pure white:

Spook, nigger, sambo, nigga, spade, coon, pickaninny, spear chucker, spic, rag head, Obama-lover, paki, coolie, injun, crow, kaffer, nig-nog, nip, tar baby, wetback, or simp.  (Sorry, I ran out of breath.)

That is what a drunken, shit-faced segment of white Americans believe a mud person is. Oh Yeah, "Mud Person" has been another popular shitty white cracker slur. And don't forget they also call us "Mondays". Because everybody hates Monday morning. I would consider damning stupid white people to Hell but it is too late.

Whyte Niggas is Crazy! Evolution made a wrong turn yet nature will soon  correct the problem. Think.

(Wake-up America. Fuck Donald Trump.)

Thursday, November 23, 2017

TRUMP PORN: The Bare Foot Voter

"I am right and my opponent is wrong!"

Who is telling the truth? 


In the year after a presidential election that sent the most unpopular candidate ever  into the supreme position as leader of the free world, we ponder "what the fuck happened?" It is easy to explain: people were mad as hell and were not going to take it it anymore. So voters in 2016 walked bare-footed over sharp shards of hyperbolic political rhetoric and left a bloody trail of disappointment.

Most of us, hoping for a satisfying outcome, opened the political refrigerator and saw the options were limited: 1) warmed-over Democrat, 2) a casserole of moldy Republicans or 3) several pieces of fresh fruit that were pushed far left to the back in the dark of the vegetable bin. are to blame when politicians are elected who have no interest in anything except enriching themselves. Their lies are deafening and obscure reality.

But the Military-Industrial Complex is the actual mustache twisting villain to fear. You have to wonder why billionaires and their cohorts could be so greedy and short-sighted. These evil-doers legally bribe our politicians to look the other way as the house around them is burning down while they squeeze a few more pennies into their pockets. Their policies deny average US citizens basic health care and prevent young people from getting free education. They ruin the environment and the water we drink and the air we breathe. They block new immigrants who are the fresh blood this country needs.

Yet desperate citizens may have no clue to what they are voting for or why they are suffering. They need information.

Thank God there is a free and unfettered Internet to voice our opinions???!!

But we must  Take Action now!

Friday, November 10, 2017

AFRO Quickie

The renown Dr. R. W. Ashanti, the Chancellor of the New Black Royal Institute, was incredulous at what he perceived. He repeated his inquiry, "You claim that human heads are attached to the Afros growing in your garden." He frowned. Since the 1960s, Afros were prominently sitting on the heads and shoulders of famous civil rights activists. He pondered the rows of Afros lined up like thick fat cabbages. "What mad science is this?"

A tightly locked Jamaican  replied, "I figured out a way to grow Afros attached to people. The Afros come in all colors and styles even rainbow. When I was on the free islands, I learn to plant and harvest lots of wondrous shit." He puffed up with pride.

Ashanti glanced at the computer notes prepared by his prized student and grudgingly accepted the reality of these achievements. "Impressive! But what real hope can this bizarre experiment offer to better society?"

"We can cultivate people. All we mostly need is a little clean water and lots of bright sunshine. But there are other problems to overcome."

Ashanti sagely scratched his bald skull. "Problems such as?"

"Embarrassingly, the Afros cultivated here all seem to be Black Republicans. I may have to change the fertilizer."

The two scientists walked among the rows of Afros growing in the productive earthy base, pondering what to do to fix the situation.


Next week, we grow carrots.

Saturday, October 28, 2017

AFROFuturism Needs More Evil Black Villains!

Great Fiction is driven by forces of extreme evil -- individuals and organizations willing to reject existing circumstances and use maleficence for unconventional goals. In popular fiction, these are the bad guys. Sherlock Holmes has his deadly nemesis, Professor Moriarty,  who sought world dominance. But villainy is more than the Batman against the Joker or Superman vs. Lex Luthor and other similar overworked themes.

Villains can have fearsome power; they have the ability to change the narrative and build a future based on their whims. This is a task not for the weak. 

In AFROFuturism, we need literary villains to reek dire havoc on society and make it responsive to the needs of people of color; because on occasion, the faces of Black villains become interchangeable with champions who can alter our day-to-day lives and offer freedom. Thus, they bring awesome weapons to the arena. 

Tell your local Black writers to give us more bad guys of African descent. Only they can save us from the greater evils that we face in our novels and reality. Sometimes, you need evil to fight evil for the good of all us. Villains, at least for a period of time, can be the winners.

Saturday, September 9, 2017

The First Empire to Strike Back!

Take A Look at an AFROFuturism Masterpiece

In the 1930s, George Schuyer, an ultra conservative Black writer, published a satirical attack against Marcus Garvey, the Black church, the Harlem Renaissance and other rising AFROCentric movements during a difficult time in America for  multiculturism. Schuyler considered his writings to be a hilarious joke as "hokum and hack work of the purest vein." 

Yet, for more than two years, Schuyler's serialized exploits of a ruthless Black genius who actively plotted to conquer Western civilization, captured legions of enthusiastic Black readers. They were fascinated by a fictional organization that created futuristic technology to change Black lives.

During the ugly economic collapse of the Great Depression, nearly a decade before World War II,  popular sci-fi media of the time exalted the exploits of Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers in movie theaters and radio, but only in the pulp magazines and newspapers which sold for pennies The Black Internationale: Story of Black Genius Against the World and the sequel, Black Empire: An Imaginative Story of a Great New Civilization in Modern Africa appeared and was passed hand-to-hand among Black readers who marveled at the mere speculation of a future when people of color were masters of technology and able to chart their destinies. Originally written under the pseudonym, Samuel I. Brooks, George Schuyler penned for the black weekly newspaper, The Pittsburgh Courier,  the story of Carl Slater, who accidentally witnesses a white woman's murder in Harlem.  Slater is drawn into the machinations of the deadly Dr. Henry Belsidus, leader of the Black Internationale, an elite organization of Black professionals determined to liberate Africa and restore Blacks to their rightful position of dominance on the planet. The calculating Belsidus seems maniacal, but he  reveals to Slater a cunning plan:

"My son, all great schemes appear mad in the beginning.  Christians, Communists, Fascists and Nazis were at first called scary.  Success made them sane.  With brains, courage and wealth even the most  fantastic scheme can become a reality.  I have dedicated my life, Slater, to destroying white world supremacy.  My ideal and objective is very frankly to cast down Caucasians and elevate the colored  people in their places.  I plan to do this by every means within my power.  I intend to stop at nothing, Slater, whether right or wrong.  Right is success.  Wrong is failure.  I will not fail because  I am ruthless.  Those who fail are them men who get sentimental, who weaken, who balk at a little bloodshed.  Such vermin deserve to fail.  Every great movement the world has ever seen has  collapsed because it grew weak.  I shall never become weak, nor shall I ever tolerate weakness around me.  Weakness means failure, Slater, and I do not intend to fail."

Sorry! You were not the first.

Written at the break-neck speed of  a "Perils of Pauline" weekly melodrama, every chapter in Black Empire is booby-trapped with dire dangers and neck-twisting turnabouts.

Star Wars' Luke and Hans faced evil Darth Vader and supernatural forces. In the 1930s, AFROFuturists like George Schuyer were building hope by envisioning Black women and men of power to inspire and enlighten.

The world needs strong black villains and great heroes to confront them. We need AFROFuturism.

Photo Credit: Sorry, I found Afro Hans and Leia on the Internet randomly. I would love to give the rightful creator due credit for borrowing this image. E-mail me. Thanks.