Lynching Niggers Just Like Grandpappy Used to Do, and Choose Your Poison
-By William M. Hart
Through early 2010, my best friend, Mahir, was undergoing another round of treatment for alcoholism. He struggled with his illness for the eleven years I had known him, and suffered blood alcohol poisoning twice during that time.
He was a phenomenally talented drummer, and it was in that capacity that I first came to know him, as the drummer for my band. He did things I saw no other drummer do, such as leaning into one drum with a stick to increase the head tension, changing the pitch, while striking the drum with the other stick— all on the fly in the middle of a fill. He liked Buddy Rich and Phil Collins.
Mid-March of that year saw him in treatment once again, and on a day when we had made arrangements for me to come visit him at the rehab center that evening, he showed up at my door in the afternoon, drunk. He had no insurance, and so was discharged early, as that facility is known to be in the habit of doing with uninsured patients. He denied drinking, though he was obviously drunk, was asking to borrow some money, and wanted me to give him a ride to meet a couple of other fellows, friends of a friend (a direct descendant of the first settler in the town), who were looking for a new roomie, as they had recently lost a roommate, and were less than pleased at the prospect of increased expenses.
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The Present State and Need of Civil Rights in the United States, Part Two”