Can you believe it? The People’s Republic of California actually set aside its soy-taco and executed a prisoner! That’s right! California took a few minutes away from passing out driver’s licenses to illegal aliens fresh off the smuggle-truck, and slipped a needle in a death-row inmate. Amazing!
Now, I hear ya cryin’. You’re sayin’, “But Fizz, that was last week! Why’re you talking about that now?” And the answer to that, my friends, is that since my World Series prediction backfired almost as soona s I wrote it, I should at least wait and make sure the fucker was really dead before I said anything.
So, now on to this Tookie Williams thing. First of all, what the hell kind of nickname is Tookie? And have you noticed, in the accompanying media frenzy, that various newscasters and “opinion leaders” began saying his name as if “Tookie” were more than a nickname? Stanley Tookie Williams. Like Mark David Chapman, or Ronnie James Dio. Hell, they didn’t even get that familiar with Lewis “Scooter” Libby. And just what is it with these grown men, one an ex-gangbanger waiting to take a stroll down the Last Mile and the other a white-collar thug with a cushy government job and well-placed friends ……… what is it with these grown men going around still clinging to their moronic nicknames? When I become president, am I going to still be calling myself Fizzy?
Well, as a matter of fact, I am. President Fizzy, to be exact. Damn right!
Anyway, back to Tookie. It takes a special kind of criminal to provoke such hand-wringing from the Establishment. The founder of the Crips, one of the most notorious and wide-reaching street gangs in America, who murdered four people (that we know of) smoehow managed to dominate the national news for two weeks before his death. Why? Oh, because he writes children’s books from his cell. Awww, isn’t that heartwarming! You can’t execute a kids’-book author, can you? I mean, that would be like stuffing Judy Blume headfirst into a trash compactor. Never mind the fact that Tookie-Wookie started up a criminal organization that has left countless people, innocent and guilty alike, dead over the last thirty years. That’s irrelevant. Hell, Tookie would better be compared to some penny-ante genocidal dictator like you might find presiding over machete-waving Ubangis somewhere in Africa, than to, say, Beverly Cleary. Think about it. It’s not that big a stretch to call him a mass murderer.
So he’s been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize five times. So what? I bet you if I got ahold of some dirty pictures of the right people, I could get nominated. Come to think of it, even this little ol’ Fizzbunker has done more for the good of mankind than Tookie has.
I’m the last person to marginalize the importance of children’s literature. Books are, and always have been, a huge part of my life, especially as a kid. Of course, I read all the classics that most kids growing up in the ’80’s read: your Ramona Quimby and your Soup and literally hundreds more. And while I’ve moved on to more mature fare, so to speak, but I hadn’t ever heard of this Stanley “Tookie” Williams. Not until this last-ditch bid for clemency started grabbing headlines as the Big Day drew near. I can’t seem to track down any of his books either.
That’s too bad, because I actually wanted to read one, just to see what it was like. The assorted Tookie-lovers claim that his books have helped keep untold millions of kids out of gangs over the years. Oh, really? Personally, it looks to me like certain somebodies are vastly overestimating Tookie’s influence as a writer. For one thing, when has reading a book steered anybody away from a life oc crime. Sure, books can and do have enormous impact on society (ever heard of The Jungle or 1984?), but Tookie? I doubt it. Besides, a kid who’s pondering throwing in with the Crips isn’t likely to be wandering the stacks at the local library anyway. My theory is that guilty white people (who would never admit it, of course) are secretly impressed that Tookie can even write his name, let alone kids’ books.
Naturally, the circus wouldn’t have been complete without a few cameos from Tookie’s masterpiece, the Crips. Seeing their hero’s impending demise as a great excuse to go out and raise some hell, they threatened to riot if Tookie rode the needle. What the hell, the fine people of Los Angeles have gone almost fourteen years without a good riot. The much-maligned LAPD said that none of the threats were credible, and therefore they had no plans to discontinue their real work, which is pretending to be looking for whoever shot Biggie Smalls.
Rodney King was conspicuously absent from these maneuvers.
Well, none of that matters now. California Goober-nator Arnold Schwarzineger, ever with the actor’s flair for the dramatic, waited until the very day of the execution before denying clemency. Consequently, Tookie is now pulling weeds alongside Highway 666, as part of Satan’s personal chain gang. On his left is Tim McVeigh, while Ted Bundy is shackled to his right. Down there, they call them the Terrible T’s.
Meanwhile, back on earth, a big memorial service is planned for this week, to salute this fallen civil-rights leader. You read right: some morons are actually running around calling the Tookster a civil-rights leader. Which is a sad commentary on the plight of civil-rights leaders in our time. Martin Luther King was a civil-rights leader. Gandhi was a civil-rights leader. Jesse Jackson thinks he’s one, because he’s black, has a loud voice, can coin cute little catchphrases (that usually rhyme) and because somebody always pays his fare to wherever there’s chaos so he can make a ridiculous speech. Tookie is not.
Speaking of Jesse Jackson, he’s going to be right there at the memorial service. I mean really, where else would he rather be? Also set to attend is Snoop Dogg. I’m sure Snoop has some very good reasons for going. Hell, Tookie probably indirectly launched his career! But face it, Snoop has smoked so much weed that he leans toward the sun. I wonder what intelligent and well-articulated ideas Snoop will come up with. “Tizzle was a good nizzle, and wizzle gonna mizzle hizzle. Fo’ shizzle!”
But pretty soon, they’ll forget all about Tookie. After all, Mumia’s still in the Big House, isn’t he?
Rot in hell, Tookie! Justice is served.
Today’s inspirational song lyrics are brought to us by the late, great Johnny Cash:
“I can see the buzzards and I can hear the crows, I’ve got one more minute to go. Now I’m swingin’ and here I go-o-o-o-o-o-o-o ………”
12/18/05
