Straight . . . No Chaser: Cam Newton . . . Wanted Dead or Alive

By Desi Cortez BASN Columnist
Updated: July 30, 2011

Cam Newton and Dad

Cam Newton and Dad

DENVER, CO. (BASN)—Lend me your ear, er’ eyes young Mr. Cameron Newton . . . this is but a word to the wise, be careful son – very careful, there’s a storm brewin’ a lynch-mob gathering – there’s a tree with your name on it. Cam, as you read this, have your old man go put on the Undisputed Truth’s “Smiling Faces” because the songs going to be applicable for the next decade of your young life. You’re going to have to understand you’re now bigger then your 6’5 265 frame, you’re even bigger then the 7 story high likenesses you’ll see plastered on the side of buildings – Son, you represent. The issue is “what” you represent. to some; your’ not simply a NFL Quarterback – or an arrogant Mandingo gladiator . . but a gangster/thug/hoodlum who does not know his place is in prison. Cam, son you’re an uppity Nigger. Welcome to the club, we wear our well-earned label as a badge-of-honor. Don’t you ever forget that, you represent what angry, paranoid and highly insecure white men across the land fear the most – a black man unafraid to chart a course into uncharted, obviously hostile waters, and make no mistake about it – tens of millions want you to fail . . . in miserable fashion. It’s imperative you recognize, from “Jump-street” you’re attempting to play a glamor position, one deliberately, strategically set aside within the framework of our society for only White men, a stage for them only to display a cerebral aspect of physical competition where only White men can grasp the complexities of it all, and most importantly only White dudes can excel. See, the QB position is like President – the last, finale bastion in America, set-up, constructed where only White guys can fill the bill. President Obama’s turned this wishful thinking on it’s blockhead, as did men on the gridiron like Warren Moon, Doug Williams and Randall Cunningham, but as far as White America is concerned – the jury is out on both occupations, the “experiment” has not be concluded – Blacks may still prove to be too-stupid to not merely lead an NFL team, but lead a country. The audacity of some people, no? The prime motivating factor propelling the tar n’ feathering of Vick – eliminating from the “golden boy” competition a Black cat who could redefine, and I don’t employ that word recklessly - the NFL Field General job description, raise and alter it to the point that the position is off-limits to the vast overwhelming majority of White guys, as is virtually all other ball handlin positions but kicker. Based on his devastating abilities and undeniable potential # 7 had a bulls-eye laser-ed in on his back the day he walked into the NFL, there were scores of sportsfans, writers and NFL coaches who prayed he failed, and when he stumbled, they tried to lynch him. Vick’s traumatic fall, his dramatic rise from the gallows didn’t endear him to millions of Tea Bagger sportsfans, and despite his gentlemanly demeanor, he’s made many-a-redneck fan sad, mad and scared of the future Mike’s pig-skin tools are carving-out, disgusted Vick’s going to help young Vince Young pull his head out of his ass . . . and these real Americans feel betrayed that a Mormon, a Mormon would be the fellah giving these Black baboons a second chance. You didn’t know we had tails . . . you hadn’t noticed yours yet, and its been 37 years? Ask Joseph Smith or Brigham Young, spend a weekend in Utah . . . feel the love. Don’t take my word, and don’t pull the lever for that aging “Ken doll” Mitch Romney until you do some capital “G” Googling about the story of exactly who the Latter Day Saints are . . . and what their good books told them about Black folks, their convenient racial revelations, and the Tony McGee and the Wyoming 14 – nevertheless Andy Reid’s enlightenment must be noted, respected. Racism is not exclusive to any vein of Christianity nor religions as a whole. I’m gonna blow this candle out, but don’t make light of, don’t slight what you, Vick, David Gerrard,Travis Jackson, T. Pryor, all ebony Field Generals “represent”- the end of a era of lies, of a false message sent to Black boys, for generations – you’re too-dumb to understand complex ideas nor lead men.
Mr Newton, understand, horrifically that’s “home” for millions – so watch your back, the backstabbers will be everywhere, smiling n’ grining in your face, and the moment you turn your back, yes, what you’ve just gone thru is but an example of what lay-ahead angry White people are praying you fail, please don’t give the sum-bitches the pleasure. Take a tip from Mike Vick, get hip, quick . . . And Cam, please, when you’re done reading this forward it on to VY because this sentiment surely applies to VY. Sports writers and fans wanted this man to jump, pull the trigger . . . they’re not all your “fans.” Young’s peculiar situation – i.e., sports commentators laboring to shove him into the Dante Cullpepper box – brand him, bar him and banish him to semi-pro sandlot football – is so intense NFL Channel commentators are at it; Jamie Dukes dared to look at VY as a man versus the “property” Mike Lombardi sees him only as.
Never forget the joy the sports press takes in the fall of Jamarcus Russell . . . .note the manner in which Josh Freeman is always overlooked. Both of you should never forget what has been done to Donavon McNabb – the consummate company-man/House Negro; you just witnessed the chaining n’ gaging of #5. Mike Shanahan is a personal buddy of George W. and Rush Limbaugh; If John Bohener had to seek advice from Limbaugh on the crashing this nation’s economy – then it’s not a leap to concede so did Shanahan on how to deal with his “Negro problem.” Cam, this ain’t gonna be no cake walk, or rose garden – start watching “Glory” once every couple of weeks for you’re gonna have to step-up, anny-up, like a real man, like your ole man, who just whipped those good ol’ boys asses over on the NCAA Plantation, I’m sure you can take on the NFL, define your place in the story of the game. Rumble young man . . . rumble !