(A Direct Address from a Girl Raised Up North)
Ms. Deen! Ms. Deen! Ms. Deen! I was and am wondering how black crow tastes. Or better yet, how is that all time favorite meal, called, “foot in the mouth?” Whether baked, fried, boiled, sautéed or fricasseed; please know and understand that the proverbial jig is up! The other shoe has dropped and the fat lady has sung. In this case, she, the fat lady might even be you. Until recent days you have hummed a silent, racist tune in your deeply fried heart. No doubt to the beat of old “Dixie.” Whatever the case, your actions from years past and merely days ago have now caught up to you, with you and have cost you. Our dear Brother Malcolm (X) would call this, “chicken’s coming home to roost!” You know a lot about chicken, since you fry so many. You my dear gave the chickens the very map of words you spoke leading them directly back to you; in the end cooking your own goose.