MICHAEL DAVIS WORLD

You can't make this stuff up, so we don't!

The Middleman, by Michael Davis – Straight No Chaser #350 | @MDWorld

August 14, 2014 Michael Davis 3 Comments

Bu9XsGMIAAAO_xNDamn, it’s 1963 all over again in Missouri.

 The police are using tear gas and billy clubs to control a group of peaceful protestors. All that’s missing is German Shepherd’s and fire hoses, but hey, rubber bullets more than make up for that.

 Someone once asked me to “please stay here,” and I seriously wondered if I should take a gun and end me before the LAPD does.

 The “here” she was referring to was Earth.

 Bet that fucked you up.

 A bit over a year ago, two drunk white people thought they could use me as a punching bag at a restaurant.

 They attacked me.

 They hit me.

 They were two, I was one.

I defended myself, they punked out.

 I was the one arrested.

 There is videotape evidence of my innocence.

 I took a plea deal on the criminal charge.

W H Y?

Why would The Master Of The Universe take a plea deal when he has the resources and media reach to clearly win this bullshit case in court? Because, as Master Of The Universe I’m invincible. As a Black man in Los Angeles, I’m a fucking nigger, a less-than-human target waiting to be shot down like a dog in the fucking street.

My case should have NEVER gotten ANYWHERE near a court.  It should have been dismissed the moment the tape and the 20 or so eyewitness backed my story. It wasn’t. So what’s MOTU to do? Get the FUCK out, as quickly and quietly as possible, that’s what.

White America, when a big-mouth, well-connected, uppity motherfucker who’s CLEARLY IN THE RIGHT AND IT’S ALL ON TAPE, won’t even chance a day in court because he thinks the system is racist, THE SYSTEM IS FUCKING RACIST!

Everyone has value.

Yeah right.

Nice sermon, bumper sticker, and uplifting message; just not for Black men. In the eyes of some law enforcement, my value is nothing. I can be taken out at any time in any place if I don’t act right.

So to avoid living my life in fear, having to stay inside battling bouts of horrible insomnia debilitating migraines fueled by thoughts that she’s not here (she’s gone; hell, they’re all gone), why not simply pull the trigger of the gun I’ve held to my head many times? 

What happens if I simply cannot deal with my inner demons inside my home anymore?  I know full well if I go outside and don’t “act right,” there’s a real chance I could be shot in the back.

So, why not cut out the middleman and shoot myself?

What happens when I don’t take my meds and voicing my ire on Facebook is not enough? What happens when I’ve had enough of seeing UNARMED Black men choked because THEY WERE BLACK? What happens when I realize that I don’t eat Skittles anymore because it just reminds me of an unarmed BLACK CHILD KILLED BECAUSE HE WAS BLACK?

What happens when another unarmed Black man is shot down like a dog in the street in Los Angeles, and that event underscores the horrible place my life has become over the last 12 months ?

What happens when she’s not there to tell me to stay here?

I’ll tell you what happens.

I leave my home in the upscale white neighborhood I live in. It’s 3am in the morning and because I STILL cannot sleep, I drive to Ralph’s supermarket to shop. I’m stopped by the police often, and this night I’ll be stopped again.

But this time, I’m depressed.

This time, I’m not kissing the ass of the motherfucking racist cop who’s stopped me before. This time I say the absolute wrong thing.

“I did nothing. I’m not showing you any ID. I’d like you to call your supervisor; when he arrives, I’ll show him.”

This will not stand. I know this. He repeats his command to show my license and I repeat what I said. He orders me to get out of the car. I make no move. My hands are on the steering wheel, and my interior lights are on. “I’ve done nothing.”

He screams for me to exit the vehicle.

For, what I know is the last time, I say “no.”

He grabs me through the windshield and I refuse to let go of the steering wheel. Instead, I close my eyes and say goodbye to all my friends.

Then, like every lazy comic book writer will someday write, my life flashes in front of my eyes.

And I wonder.

I wonder what Comicmix will write about me. I wonder if Bleeding Cool will do a tribute. I wonder if I’m big enough to have my obituary in the New York Times like Dwayne.  I wonder if Denys will ever forgive me for the lie I told him when he asked if I was OK. I hope he’s OK. If Denys couldn’t save me, no one could. I wonder if James knows he’s going to rule the comic world, or Danielle, the entertainment world, or Jasmine the music world. And Tatiana?

Tatiana the entire world.

I wonder if Stradford knows just how much his friendship means to me.

I wonder if the “Mikes” (Gold, Grell, Baron, and Raub) know the same. I wonder if Maggie will cry a lot, if Missy and Kai will also. I wonder if Steve and Josh will both wear a Yankee hat to an Orioles game in my honor.

Then I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I said hurtful things to Darlene.

I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to reach Brett. Brett, once my son in every way but blood, who still wants nothing to do with me.  I’m sorry I let Sheila’s call go to voicemail right before I left my home and hope she will forgive me.  I’m sorry I could not get my hands on those animals who hurt Paige.

I’m sorry couldn’t find the words to say to my Kitty.

I’m aware of a loud “bang,” then…

 Then I’m happy.

I’m happy I saw my brother Lee again. I’m happy Lucy came back into my life; I think of her little girls and I’m even happier. I’m happy because my Amber will find a way to make me smile no matter where I am, alive or dead.  I’m happy that with any luck I’ll see my family again.

I’m lucky. God lets me in…just barely.

My mother, my sister, my grandmother and great grandmother wait for me. Some of my other family is there also. Joy joins my happiness as I see Kim Yale, Linda Gold, Carol Kalish, and the man I wished was my real father, Don Thompson.

My A&D brothers, Chris Cumberbatch and Freddy Jones, give me a smile.

I realize at the end, I don’t hate my haters. They helped make me. At least that’s what Dwayne McDuffie said when he, Robert Washington, Malcolm Jones III and I sit down to create a comic book…

So I ask again, here, today, during yet another bout with my depression, why not spare my friends the pain of a trial where the outcome will most likely be “not guilty” and put a bullet in my head?

My life is not my own. It belongs to any cop having a bad day. Any D.A. wanting to get an uppity nigger, regardless of proof. My life belongs to any white racist punk ass bitch drunk in a bar or any racist coward with a gun who hates hoodies.

Like I said, why not cut out the middleman out and kill myself?

Today it’s because I promised my beloved Jean I wouldn’t.

Tomorrow?

I don’t know.

I’m just fucking glad I don’t live in Missouri.

But I do live in L.A.

Previous Post

Next Post

Comments

  1. Michael
    August 15, 2014 - 1:30 am

    I don’t know if I should call someone Is this is simply a brilliant piece of writing or a call for help?

  2. Elayne Riggs
    August 15, 2014 - 3:05 am

    Well, it IS brilliant writing, for sure. You hit this one out of the park, MOTU. Please, please take care of yourself. You are very loved, and we are very selfish and want you to stick around.

  3. Martha Thomases
    August 15, 2014 - 5:13 am

    Wait, are you saying John didn’t make it?

    Don’t go. We love you. Yes, shit is fucked up. That’s why we have to work together and create change.

    A thrilling side effect is that you get to meet awesome funny, creative, generous people when you do. And a few assholes, but that’s because this is humans we’re talking about.

    At worst, you’ll get some more great stories. At best, you’ll stay.

  4. Mark Wheatley
    August 15, 2014 - 5:29 am

    Because you can change things. And you can have a great time doing it. You can win hearts and minds. Tell stories. Make people laugh. It’s not a responsibility – but a reward.

    And – you are not alone.

  5. R. Maheras
    August 15, 2014 - 8:54 am

    MOTU — While I’ve been through what other people might classify as “rough times,” it obviously pales in comparison to what you’ve been through — and what, at times, you still have to endure.

    Regarding the whole end-it-all thing, I’m firmly on the side of sticking around. The way I see it, regardless of what a person’s philosophy is, sentient life is not just a miracle, it’s a precious gift unlike any other. I have especially learned to appreciate that as I get older, and more and more of my friends, family members and peers fall away. I know that someday I’ll be gone as well, and I’m perfectly ready for that. But I’m not going to hasten the inevitable. There’s still too much I want to learn, see, do (especially with people I care about), enjoy, and say. Especially say.

    As you no have doubt noticed, I’m also a very stubborn and opinionated person.

    Just like you.

    And I’m gonna cling to my gift until someone or something finally pries it away from my cold, dead fingers. It’s far too precious a gift not to. I’m going to live my life, soak in the wonders of the universe, and speak my mind. If attacked or wronged, I may respond immediately, or if the odds are stacked against me, I may choose a later time and place for my response. But I won’t roll over.

    That’s because I’m a fighter — which I got from my Mom.

    Just like you.

  6. MOTU
    August 15, 2014 - 10:02 am

    Martha,

    Of course John is there he was just at JC’s karaoke spot. 😉

  7. Tessio kane
    August 15, 2014 - 11:19 am

    To clarify:

    Every man and woman owns their own lives. It is your deaths that you do not entirely own.

    To clarify further:

    I am a white guy who doesn’t hate non-white people. Do I do this because I believe it is the correct way to behave and the correct way to treat my fellow humans? Do I do this because I get a small moment of joy from making hateful, racists rage-shit their undersheets at the thought of a fellow caucasoid disagreeing with them?

    Yes.

    I cannot make you sleep, relieve your pain, or quell your fear, Michael. I wish that could do this and do this now. I can tell you that you are loved, respected, and your presence is mandatory for the completion of many lives. We are all with you, whether physically there or not.

    Racists, regardless of badge-carrying or drunken bitchery variations, will never change how vital you are to your friends and family. and the work you do.

  8. Reg
    August 16, 2014 - 9:27 am

    My Brother…there were so many things that ran thru my head when I read your incredible truths and an explosion of things that I wanted to write that ALL of your friends have already told you. You’ve heard them all before and you KNOW the truth that’s embedded in each reach out…in each expression of encouragement…in each embrace. You KNOW them…but still the battle rages.

    So KNOW this again Michael Davis…YOU are SPECIAL. YOU are NEEDED. YOU are LOVED.

  9. George Haberberger
    August 18, 2014 - 9:07 am

    “I’m just fucking glad I don’t live in Missouri.”

    Well I DO live in Missouri; about 39 miles from Ferguson. I work about 28 miles from Ferguson. On the way to work I drive through five municipalities that have no riots going on.
    My proximity to the nation’s number one new story gives me no more insight to the facts than someone who lives 2,000 miles away. I know what I know from the same news outlets as everyone else. But I do know that the shooting and the riots are not representative of Missouri.

    Is Ferguson an anomaly? Yes. Were the Rodney King riots in LA an anomaly? Probably, but you sure wouldn’t have thought so from the news coverage.

    I also read this column on Bleeding Cool where you responded to a poster with this: “I’ve a residence in NYC also. Ever hear of ‘stop and frisk’ my plan is to move to the woods someday and that’s not a joke.’

    That “39 miles from Ferguson” where I live? That IS the woods. Check out Jefferson County Missouri sometime. I’m sure you’d be an interesting neighbor.

  10. Rene
    August 18, 2014 - 1:02 pm

    MOTU –

    I really hope you seek help for your depression, man.

    I do believe every one of us is on this Earth for a reason. Don’t let racist assholes rob you of hope.

    Your loved ones in the spiritual world are looking out for you and I’m sure their blessings do reach you. They wouldn’t like it for you to arrive there with the psychic damage from a suicide.

Comments are closed.