The Exquisite Corpse home archives submit black market comrads hot sites search
The Exquisite Corpse - A Journal of Letters and Life
Edited by Andrei Codrescu
ec chair poetick kultur anti-amthropomorphism
gallery zounds the making and unmaking of person
new economics of late capitalism
diaries and memoirs translation and her retinue
working class sweat
the corpse reads classics letters the book of revelations and epiphanies
the making and unmaking of person
The Making and Unmaking of Person

Letters to the Editor
by Kris Broughton

From: Winthorp Snailpace III []
Sent: December 13, 2002 11:57 AM
To: Editorial Staff
Cameron Bickerstaff, Arthur Clarke, Jody Dawson, Myron Epstein,
Op -Ed staff
Juanita Anderson, Marvin Whiteman, Frank Klesko, Jim Callahan, Mary French
City Desk Reporters
Juan Diego, Tariq El-Shabazz, Hootie Tucker, Brandon Marshall, Angel Harrison, Mark McCord
Odell Street, Hertus Askew, Mayumi Zaire

Subject: Welcome Taqua Firestorm, New Managing Editor of WJC

I would like to take this opportunity to introduce Taqua Firestorm, our new Managing Editor, to the WJC family. Ms. Firestorm comes to us from a west coast paper, the Oakland Sentinel, where she rebuilt the circulation base of a paper that had fallen on hard times as the demographics of Oakland's population shifted to a more "urban" constituency. We face many of the same challenges here in Atlanta. Our suburbs have eroded our subscriber base - the few new subscribers who do take a daily newspaper tend to want the New York Times(sic) or the Wall Street Journal.

I don't believe we are in danger of becoming irrelevant, but in order to remain a force in this community, we have had to make sweeping changes in the last few months. Corinthian Thomas, Roger Nascare, and Duodonem Dorrance have not had their contracts renewed, and will be leaving us at the end of the year. We appreciate their exemplary years of service, however, there comes a time when we need to take a fresh look at age-old problems of government versus the individual, civil rights, and liberal versus conservative political views. Ms. Firestorm has already impressed me with her very aggressive game plan to get the WJC out of its traditional approach to presenting the news and ideas, and into those that more of our metro citizens will pay to read about. I will expect the everyone to extend Ms. Firestorm a warm welcome into the bosom of our flagship newspaper.





Yea, its me - MANDINGO'S wearing Armani these days, baby, stacking up MBA's by the dozens, but its our musk that still excites, still incites fear/loathing/lust among the easily flustered inhabitants of PALE NATION. They can't corporatize it, sanitize it, can't denature it enough to be sold in a box like Rogaine at the drug store, doled out by prescription only.

We're always talking about PERSPECTIVE, you know - you, my fellow AFRICAN AMERICANS of the new millennium, the new economy, yes, that's us, the new NEW NEGROES trying to get a fresh perspective on this nation and where we stand in it. But wait, isn't your PERSPECTIVE dependant upon where you stand, your vista only as broad as your line of sight? Talk, talk, talk shows, talking TALKING heads, sound bites of us, besuited, bejeweled, beknighted by the blood of our KING, but all I ever hear is the invention of new terms, new phrases, to translate the actions of the majority into a byte for the minority, the great PALE NATIONITES who then rules/runs/rams new boundaries down our throats. To them of the us versus them, taste great versus less filling school, we are not a monolithic mass, we are youngsters, Teamsters, oldsters, prisoners, protesters, we are all and any #%@#%?@? who don't stand/sit/swallow at the eastern end of the Mason - Dixon, we who are not of the five foot ten, clean shaven, dark suited variety, we who do not work with a thesaurus on or desks, well worn, dogeared, as they try to RENAME, to REALIGN, to DISTILL the randomness of our humanity into terse lines of type, until we are fully defined by these attempts to CONFINE.

I NEED TO SPEAK, SHOUT, SCREAM, let my thoughts be known, but I am no author, no columnist, am not famous enough, not NOTORIOUS enough to interest any mainstream publishers or any national press in my message. Instead, I shall send a letter to you, the editors of the WJC, once a week, for as many weeks as it takes, until I too become a part of the public forum, and get to show a darker slice of life from this All - American apple pie.



-----Original Message from Martin R. Whiteman <>-----

From: Marvin Whiteman []
Sent: January 13, 2003 9:04 AM
To: Jim Callahan []
Subject: Re: Morehouse Letter

I didn't make a mistake, this was the letter I wanted printed. I know it was a little edgy, but the letters from our rural readers about changing the state flag were starting to get on my nerves. Maybe urban radical stuff like this will push some of our rural readers in another direction. And it will keep Taqua happy - I think she counts the number of "black" letters to the editor I print. For some reason I think she's building a file on me. Trust me on this.

Remember Corinthian? Somebody said she got Johnny Cochran to take her case. For discrimination against her by the WJC. Ha ha. Can you believe that - the civil rights guru who tells blacks to quit crying foul every time something happens to them is the first one to yell racism. I'll tell you more about this at lunch.





Letter to the Editor? Ain't you just another MR. CORRECTOMUNDO NEGRO, wasting good paper on bullshit you trying to represent as "INTELLECT"? Action, motherfucker, action, the key word is get the fuck off your ass and do something, you dry ass, bitch ass nigger. Down, set, hut one hut two hut three hundred years of SCRATHING YOUR ASS hadn't shown you nothing yet, don't you realize that scratching don't cure no itch, just make it feel a little bit better, and here you go, scratching that SILVER CROSS pen across that onion skin like somebody's gonna give a damn about what a NEGRO like you got to say. It's motherfuckers like you who make me glad I didn't go to college, cause nigger, you damn sho didn't get no KNOWLEDGE, hell even I know the GOLDEN RULE - he who got the gold can kick you stupid ass anytime he feels like it. If you want to get hip to the real deal, motherfucker, just come on down to the hood, the mailroom, or the kitchen, and holla at me. It only takes a second.





To all of my brothers, from the ghettos, from the suburbs, I posit that communication is the key, that WE ARE THE LOCKS, wisdom is strength, knowledge is power, and of course, OPEN SESAME is the password. But at this juncture, this crossroads, it seems that the new code has lost its power. What are we really saying to each other, to the world? What language is that, that which we use to AMUSE, to CONFUSE, that can get so damn HIP, so DAMN STREET, so ****ING cool that you can't understand me, can't hear me? It seems as if you don't want to give away the key to your lock. (That's the motherfucking question, you dumb black ass son of a bitch. You dumb niggers, you couldn't imagine that I would KNOW PERSONALLY an African American member of the editorial board who is privy to the letters to the editor that are not fit to print. )



-----Original Message from Martin R. Whiteman <>-----

From: Marvin Whiteman []
Sent: January 22, 2003 1:33 PM
To: Jim Callahan []
Subject: Re: Morehouse Response Letter

How did Taqua find out about this Abdul - Raheem letter? I was only at St. Simon's for ten days? Do I have to deprive my kids of a little time at the beach to keep my eye on things around here? Is Taqua offering you a promotion to feed her information on me? Don't forget that I play golf with the publisher every Thursday. And my second cousin is married to his daughter.

I can't believe you let Taqua give any friends of hers access to these letters. I'm going to have to take another look at your performance review from last month.




Yea, I'm a SHIT BROWN motherfucker, COUNTRY BLACK, CITY FRIED, done all the way to the middle. Go head and cut me, bitch, ain't nothing but ashes gonna fall out cause I'm FEROCIOUS. Been looking at my do nothing self all these years and then I come to find out it ain't me with the motherfucking problem, it ain't a BLACK thang, it's a GREEN thang, and you understand alright, you and Mr. Charlie got all my peoples bones in ya pocket. I knew all that hard ass work I was doing had to be CREATING something, just couldn't figure out what until I went BACK TO BASICS, fuck reading and writin, them ain't basics, just time killers. So now I guess you gonna have to kill me now, motherfucker, cause I'm countin what comes out in my hand, and THIS PROGRAM DON"T WASH, you see where I'm going, doncha, it just don't motherfucking add up.





I have attempted, through the letters to the editor, to reach a BROAD SPECTRUM of our community. Everyone else seems to talk to us. Why can't we talk among ourselves? Why don't we respect the ideas and opinions of those who look like us? And just in case Mr. Abdul - Raheem Jackson is reading this, BEIGE is BROWN is BLACK. We can see beyond the minor VARIATIONS IN OUR SKIN TONES to draw on our collective strength. Mr. Jackson, in his letter, also brought up another point, and I am sad to say that he is right. Mr. Charlie does pay me BIG BUCKS TO KEEP AN EYE ON YOU, and to be ready at a moments notice when he has to prove his commitment to DIVERSITY. But what am I and my brethren supposed to do? GIVE THE MONEY BACK? Doesn't make sense. Share the wealth? Dividing the few coins we have accumulated would not really change your life.
I know, I know, we have had a habit of trusting those who use us. UNCLE SAM says we are cheaper than AMMUNITION. Scientific researchers have used us as GUINEA PIGS. Democrats have used us for votes for years, and now the Republicans want some of us back. And there have been many black elites before me who have led you down the PATH OF DESTRUCTION. My question is, what do I have to do to start to REBUILD A CONNECTION between all of us?






Talk to me. I want to SEE THE VEINS IN YOUR EYES, mighty hard on a T.V. screen, its okay if you get closer to me than a microphone. I used to think you were the TOKEN DUTCH DOOR, half podium, half Hart Shaffner & Marx. No more dialogue for me, bitch, I want to smell your breath on my face. You worried about communication. I 'm worried about survival, motherfucker. Keeping the man off my ass, eyeballing thug niggers before they stomp me to death. But you don't have to worry about that, huh, the GATES on your neighborhood keeps motherfuckers like me out, making you safe. Now do you see why we can't relate? When you realize, I mean really really realize, that it only takes A SECOND TO DIE, your ass will get real and cut out all that bullshit, slice off that DAMN MASK you wear for Mr. Charlie, rip off your fucking blue and grey armor. What your life and my life boil down to is a SERIES OF CIRCUMSTANCES, that's all it really is, a FRESH HOPE with each tick of the clock that razors your vision, because we all respect our killers, whether it's a CRIMINAL with a gun, or your GOD on a mission, both of these motherfuckers got us on our knees, begging, crying, screaming to live. We know this but we can't won't don't are not allowed to admit to ourselves that RESPECT and FEAR both spurt from the ancient loins of POWER. So talk to me, bitch, I ain't no reporter, no great logical thinker, but who told you people were rational, motherfucker, all I know is animal, plant, mineral, which are you, choose one, fuck the species shit, we're all animals, humanimals living in a herd, communal and communicationless. JUST TALK TO ME.



-----Original Message from Martin R. Whiteman <>-----

From: Marvin Whiteman []
Sent: February 05, 2003 12:03 PM
To: Jim Callahan []
Subject: SEE ME ASAP

Jim, I thought you were on my team. I just got out of a meeting with Taqua. She wants me to do recap of the letters between Morehouse and Jackson that she can run in the Sunday Reader section. Looks like they're going to get a reporter in a room with the two of them and see what happens. She says she's tired of all the negative stories on how the black community has no meaningful dialogue.

She's also giving me enough time to update my resume and get a few interviews under my belt before she asks for my resignation. Looks like this will be your office.

I still can't figure this out. What did I do wrong? Didn't she want me to be more "inclusive" with our letter selections on the Op-Ed pages? All she had to do was come talk to me.


-----Original Message from Odell N. Street <>-----

From: Odell Street []
Sent: February 14, 2003 7:52 PM
To: Mayumi Zaire []
Subject: Black Community Dialogue Article


Taqua is on my ass about this article. She wants to know why it didn't make Tuesday's edition. And she says it better be positive - no coded buzzwords sabotaging this effort. I guess she thought I was asleep in her "Minorities are Real People"seminar.

What the fuck are we going to do? The shit on that tape from the lunch meeting with Morehouse and Jackson was bullshit. Two grown men glaring at each other for forty-five minutes. All I got is two cassettes full of "You got your food before I got mine" and "This steak is just plain tough". By the time we gave up and left I thought that Rolex Morehouse had on was a time bomb, it was ticking so damn loud. What happened to all that shit they wrote? I guess we're just going to have to make some shit up.


From: Mayumi Zaire []
Sent: February 15, 2003 8:25 AM
To: Odell Street []
Subject: Re: Black Community Dialogue Article

O - Dog,

Bring me your tapes. We can transcribe whatever it did say and use our "interpretive" skills to fill in the gaps. I don't think this will be a problem. I do it all the time, especially when the quotes I get from an interview don't fit the way I want to present the information I've gathered. Should be a piece of cake. Just rearrange the quotes. If you have a problem with the wrong word popping up in a sentence, just follow the instructions below, and you can stick in any word you want.

If I spent all my time clarifying quotes from interviews, I wouldn't have time for my personal trainer. Take the tape and run it until you get to the point where the word shows up in the conversation. Then pull the tape out of the case a little, and gently rub it between your fingertips two or three times. Whatever you do, don't forget to wipe your fingerprints off the tape with a little bit of tissue paper. If they ever check this out, you've got a garbled word or two, and they can't pull your fingerprints off the tape. Now you can pop good old [expletive deleted] in for the garbled words. Problem solved, article still on message.

You owe me one, rookie.


Metro citizens break bread over intraracial issues
Black community takes big step forward

By Mayumi Zaire and Odell Street
Whiteland Journal Constitution Staff Writer
Friday, February 17, 2003; Page B01

Two Atlanta area residents sat down together for lunch last week to discuss class and cultural differences within the African American community. Howard Morehouse III and Abdul - Raheem Jackson have raised several issues over the past few weeks in this paper's "Letters to the Editor" section. The meeting of the two represents an effort by two concerned citizens to try to bridge a gap between the black moneyed elites and their working class counterparts.

The two men, serious about making progress, sliced right into the meaty issue. "You got your[s] [expletive deleted] before I got mine," said Dekalb County resident Jackson to Morehouse, referring to the educational achievements and accumulation of wealth that Atlanta's black upper middle class have attained. "That [expletive deleted] is just plain tough." retorted Morehouse. The intensity of -




home archives submit black market comrads hot sites search ec chair peotick kultur anti-amthropomorphism
new economics of late capitalism gallery zounds the making and unmaking of person
diaries and memoirs translation and her retinue
the book of revelations and epiphanies working class sweat
the making and unmaking of person the corpse reads classics letters

©1999-2004 Exquisite Corpse.
Site design by Compulsive Creations.