Morrissey on Baldwin

Morrissey's on the Money

Today’s edition of the newsletter has nothing to do with finance, economics, or money whatsoever. I actually meant to include this chunk of text below at the end of yesterday’s edition of the newsletter but forgot to do so. I’ve been reading Morrissey’s autobiography (aptly titled Autobiography), and I wanted to share the below chunk of text from it because I thought it was so dead on, and I appreciate when a writer hits the nail on the head the way Morrissey does here. So, without further ado, here’s Morrissey on James Baldwin.

Nerve deserts me in 1986 as I spot the American writer and social reformer James Baldwin sitting alone in the lobby of a grandiose Barcelona hotel. He is weathered and intense, absorbed in his own thoughts, with a face there could never be enough time to describe. I drink him in, but can do no more. I pin so much prestige to James Baldwin that to risk approach places my life on the line; I’d hang myself at any glimmer of rejection. History books overlook James Baldwin because be presented an unvarnished view of the American essence - as blunt and rousing as print would allow. His public speeches were intoxicating, his motivational palette of words so full of fireworks that you smile as you listen - not because of humor, but because he was so good at voicing the general truth, with which most struggled. His liking for male flesh gave the world a perfect excuse to brush him aside as a social danger, and he was erased away as someone who used his blackness as an excuse for everything. In fact, his purity scared them off, and his honesty ignited irrational fear in an America where men were draped with medals for killing other men yet imprisoned for loving one another. Pitifully, on this Barcelona day, I do not have the steel to approach James Baldwin, because I know very well that I will jabber rubbish, and that his large, soulful eyes will lower at someone ruefully new to the game. Shortly thereafter, he is dead.

If you’ve never read any of Baldwin’s work, I recommend starting with The Fire Next Time. It’s hands down one of the most powerful and unflinching texts I’ve ever read.

(James Baldwin - Source)

So, yeah, that’s all for today. No ramblings about magic internet money or the Fed’s role in unraveling the fabric of our society. I will say, though, if you are going to spend your money on books that discuss race and the role it plays in society, please put down the dehumanizing and condescending work of Robin DiAngelo, and please pick up the poetic prose of James Baldwin.

Stay based,

Frank

Twitter: @frankcorva

Currently Listening To: “Industrial Revolution”, by Immortal Technique

“‘cause if you go platinum, it’s got nothing to do with luck; it just means that a million people are stupid as fuck" -Immortal Technique

Matt Taibbi @mtaibbi

Reading Robin DiAngelo is like being strapped to an ice floe in a vast ocean while someone applies metronome hammer-strikes to the the same spot on your temporal bone over and over:

taibbi.substack.comOur Endless Dinner With Robin DiAngeloSuburban America’s self-proclaimed racial oracle returns with a monumentally oblivious sequel to “White Fragility”