Zo Man, Oh Zo Man, Whither art thou, dear Zo Man? Behold, the offspring of African slaves, these men with futures staked in freedom, whose grandparents stood bravely in the face of snarling dogs, and high powered water hoses, who walked as children bravely and stoically past white faces twisted in hate and rage, these young black men whose grandparents suffered the inhumanities of lynchings and cross burnings. And behold now, their rapid descent into wretched servitude. Mourn, not only for these young men who cannot utter a simple thought of their own, because their language is so incomprehensible. Cry because they would gladly sacrifice their rights as free men, to become thralls to The One. There is a sickness in our collective souls which can foster such unspeakable things as this. Watch. Listen. Learn. It is mostly awful and incomprehensible, but in the awfulness and incomprehensibility, there is a study in horrors.
Ahhh! Here is our beloved Mr. Rachel pressing home real hope and the kind of change that can only come from a clean and redeemed heart. This is the true free man. Emulate him, young squablings:
I feel better, now, thank you, Alfonzo!