Talking Black and Sleeping White

              Christine Nix is a criminal justice professor but in another life she was the first black female Texas Ranger. In that position as a member of Company F stationed in Waco—she did a variety of investigations. From old-fashioned murder to political corruption to God-knows-what-else. She also served the State of Texas as a de facto Uncle Tom, not to be judgmental of her or her record. Accommodation in some way or shape or form—to the white power structure in Texas and elsewhere in these United States—aka, The Man—is a given of everyday life for black people. The question is not if, but how much? No matter how you slice it, Ranger Nix stepped over a proverbial line and became a “Tom”—although Uncle Tom is not actually the proper term for a black woman who allies herself with The Man. Males are Toms—not to be politically correct or anything, but officially and in precise terms of black liberation dogma, not to be dogmatic. Ranger Nix was a badge-and-gun carrying Aunt Jemima, for the State of Texas, up in God’s country, McLennan County, Waco, Texas. 

             During a radio interview with In Black America a few years ago, for example, Ranger Nix claimed that she was never treated with anything but respect by her peers. Please. There are two things to know about that. The Associated Press reported, years before the radio interview, that two white male Rangers were disciplined for calling her a bitch and a nigger and for criticizing her marriage to a white man. If Ranger Nix didn’t know about any of that, she was the worst detective in the world. Second, the two white men in question continued in the Ranger Service, no problema, that's the kind of people the Rangers are. Not to be judgmental. She said the highest praise another officer had given her was his willingness to go through a door, to serve a warrant, with her because he would know Christine Nix had his back. 

           There were also her own efforts to brand herself as a traitor to the race and the overall goal of black liberation, however. Not to be judgmental again. She spoke to In Black America about her pride in having attempted, back, years before in Company F, to get a black male suspect sentenced to death, not because he was black but because he was guilty. His color in a racially-challenged Southern court system being, apparently, immaterial to her consideration of his crime. She recalled in the interview that she was unsuccessful in “getting him the needle,” as Ranger Nix so quaintly put it. 

              It was in Ranger Nix's best interests after her service to the State of Texas to protect the institution of the Texas Rangers, who have traditionally been the Lone Star race police, not just hunters and killers of Bonnie and Clyde but also of niggers and Mexicans. 

            The Rangers were the ones who did the State of Texas’s killing, especially of Native Americans, not that that’s an issue here. The Rangers are, actually, the North American continent’s oldest and most racially-challenged police agency, Christine Nix served 10 years among the same group of almost exclusively white men that used to shoot across the border at Mexican civilians just for the hell of it and has, rhetorically-speaking, killed almost as many black people as fried food. Nix’s identity as a Texas Ranger—the first black female, lest we forget—became more important to who she is today than her identity as a black woman in the South has been. Ditto the first black male Ranger who also claimed that he never experienced any racial animus in the agency and who, critically, later worked as a private investigator in Dallas, in his post-Ranger career, trading heavily on his identity as an elite detective and cowboy, not no ordinary nigger. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. 

           

             More recently there is David Armstrong—with Company B, outside Dallas. Company D is the most sketchy of the Ranger units, by the way. Each Company has its own personality, its own profile so to speak, its own rap sheet also. Company B in Garland, these were the guys—operating out of Garland then as today—running Jack Ruby, as a snitch, before the Kennedy assassination, and are considered more diabolical even than the guys in Headquarters Company of the Texas Rangers that covers Austin and keeps a protective eye on the Legislature and Governor. Anyway, Sergeant Armstrong of Company B is called in after controversial shootings of black people by police agencies, as an internal affairs service the Rangers provide to local law enforcement. As if David Armstrong’s presence at the scene assures a fair investigation from the State of Texas which it most certainly does not. 

            “I don’t believe that [the shooting] was reckless or criminally negligent,”Ranger Armstrong, following in Christine Nix's footsteps as the Ranger's house nigger, famously testified last year at the trial of white Dallas Police Officer Amber Guyger. Who shot dead an African-American man in his own home after she entered the wrong apartment and was surprised to find a Negro living there. Remember now? “Based on the totality of the investigation and the circumstances and facts,” Ranger Armstrong explained to the court, hoping to get Amber Guyger a walk. In other words, not to be rude but to be descriptive, he’s a Tom—because the State of Texas keeps Toms on the payroll, often wearing Ranger’s stars—in case of emergency. In the historical perspective, then, who is an Uncle Tom and who is not is particularly pertinent today, in these times of open revolt, post the murder of George Floyd. There is the officially designated other team, in this case The White Man and his mate, the recently-identified Karen, who has roamed amongst us unidentified lo these many years. Most to be feared are our own nominal allies, the race traitors who may look exactly like us but are pushing The Man's Agenda. Not to go all Critical Theory on you or anything.

           These Uncle Toms and Aunt Jemimas undermine positive change because it’s in their best personal interests to do so, not because it's the right thing to do. As one might explain as part of a critical race dialectic. As a practical matter these Uncle Toms can be just as dangerous as the damn Klan. Race traitors—Fifth Columnists, as they were called in the Spanish Civil War, are the Tio Tacos and Jemimas today. You can also say banana, if you are of a mind to, yellow on the outside & white on the inside, don’t forget the damn bananas, that's my view. In this most recent conflict, terminology is as important as ideology. 

         Uncle Tom has been known by a number of names throughout post-Civil War history, including the unisex handkerchief head which is not much used today but is unusually descriptive. One assumes that the first Toms were descended from house niggers during actual slavery but there's no need to go there. House nigger technically—in contemporary revolutionary usage, in my modest view as a liberated black man—describes a different dynamic altogether. The term Tom arose after Emancipation and can be used by the uninitiated for a unisex handkerchief head-like condemnation. We are not picky as a race. There’s also oreo—like the cookie but not capitalized, please. Whose usage relates to the popular cookie’s famous structure—black on the outside and white on the inside. But you already knew that.

        Minority police officers like Ranger Nix and Ranger Armstrong are particularly prone to becoming Toms, that seems clear. That’s a premise of mine actually, that black cops easily rationalize their betrayal—because they don’t think they’re sleeping with the enemy, “sleeping white” in the vernacular, they think they’re sleeping blue, you feel me? We digress. Some of these pigs have transformed their primary identity as black men and black women into primarily being cops, you know? One also hear the more colloquial “pig,” a term that it is my thesis is not really pejorative or not nearly pejorative enough. With ideology and terminology accounted for, we can now turn to what, it also seems clear, is actually the most salient factor in race betrayal today—sex—love and marriage. First, we must dispose of perhaps the oldest and most racist trope in American history, that of the “pussyhound” black male, obsessed with bedding white women. 

           

           We are occupied with bedding white women, that's true, but only for revolutionary reasons, clearly. Not merely to bust the proverbial nut, so to speak, instead in aid of genuine revolutionary purpose. 

        

           The truth can now be told. Through this more accurate lens, heroic African-American men have risked their lives to take down white chicks as well as white men. As part of a critical race dialectic. 

   

           These brothers can now be celebrated for their willingness to attack The Man—who controls the police, the army and the political process, who has most of the money and all of the Ivy League and most of American academia at his command. To attack the man on the only front where white guys have been vulnerable, for the longest time—in the boudoir. Instead of being Uncle Toms, bowing before the superiority of white pussy—these so-called 60-Minute Men have been called “unfaithful” or faithless by our their fine black women. 

           But now the African-American player can be recognized by history for what he has done to white women in bed—endowed with a big dick and revolutionary purpose. 60 Minute Men have managed so successfully to alienate many white female affections from white men, denying The Man a chance to spread his seed. This heightened sexual response to white women, much maligned even by our own sisters—has never been about mere sexual gratification. Perish the fucking thought, you feel me? Instead it can now be revealed as part of an effort to bind white DNA in order to deny procreative resources to Caucasian men. That is the ideological rationale in the mind of the liberated black male during a booty call with a white chick, married or unmarried, it’s like a reverse boycott and basically involves moving your hips. Far from being Uncle Toms—talking black and sleeping white in the revolutionary vernacular—African-American men have actually used BBC to strike a blow for equality. 

              

            This leads, however, in terms of revolutionary orthodoxy and in the interests of gender equality, women's liberation being part of our struggle for civil rights, to an examination of what appears to be a growing tendency of black women to partner with white men. Like the aforementioned Ranger Nix of Company F. Are these sisters merely Aunt Jemimas? 

           Are they race traitors too, just as so many faithless brothers have been accused? In the case of mixed couples in which the woman is black a revolutionary lens can be used that allows us to identify the unfaithful, such as they are, just as women have said of black men, not to repeat myself. Not to say the word hypocrisy. Those who are more interested in achieving success by marrying it than in the progress of the black peeps, through The Struggle. Not to lay a guilt trip on anyone but these Toms and Jemimas must be identified and opprobrium heaped. What's sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose. The best example is taken from today’s headlines. Of the three black women who were seen as primary candidates for Vice President Joe Biden’s running mate, to be elected the next Vice President of the United States, none of the three chose to pair with a black man in her personal life. Which requires an examination of ideology, in the black liberation context, just as African-American men have undergone examination in the past for hitting all that white booty. Not to repeat myself.

           Would Barack Obama have been the Barack Obama we know if his wife was not Michelle Obama and instead a white chick? My premise is no. But Barack Obama belongs to a prior generation, though he is still a young man he’s kind of Old School, really, in this respect, what worked with him may not work now. Senator Kamala Harris and former National Security Advisor Susan Rice both married white men. Nothing in the professional history of the good Dr. Rice, whose ancestry is Caribbean, like Harris's—not slave descendants like Dr. King or Malcolm X or like me. Yet no evidence leads to an accusation of race betrayal. 

             In the case of Senator Harris her history as a prosecutor combined with her choice for the marriage bed might lead to further scrutiny, come the revolution. Pairing with Caucasians is not a single all-powerful consideration in black revolutionary ideology but must be viewed in a wider context, through various lenses. Sometimes it takes a cracker, like the white male Rangers who criticized Ranger Nix, to point it out. Biology also plays a part. 

             While noble black men like myself have been willing to risk the threats of white fathers, and even white husbands, in order to bind DNA from multiple white chicks—black women are often choosing one attractive white male candidate, to marry, and thus deny one or more Karens access to potential breeding stock. As part of a critical race dialectic of course. Whether intended or not. Whether this stratagem is in the best interests of civil rights remains to be seen. Which brings us back to the noble black man. Among the top of the ticket candidates, there is Kanye West, who is also married to a Caucasian but he has publicly expressed regret for his choice of a white wife. The assumption that he is ill does not mean he doesn't feel used by the corporation, Kardashian Inc. Nor can he be accused of talking black and sleeping white, which might be said, wrongly, of Senator Harris. The conservative Kanye is in fact talking white and sleeping white too. 

            Of the two greatest race traitors in American history, Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice, neither was talking black and sleeping white that we know. But the enormity of their crimes (General Powell for buying false intelligence and Secretary Rice for selling it) led to the deaths of tens of thousands of colored people and eclipsed anything except slavery that ordinary Toms have done here in the USA. It’s been policing however that has offered some of the most illustrative accusations of exploitation of people of color, by the pigs, in exchange for advancement. But “talking black and sleeping white” is certainly not only a law and order phenomenon, or a recent one, in historical terms. In summary while the revolution must be a school of unfettered thought, as Fidel Castro told us, it cannot be a school of unfettered action. There must be consequences. Cancel culture is a good thing. Because one has to take responsibility for one’s shit and keep one’s shit clean and aboveboard, or one might get cancelled tomorrow, if you’ve behaved as a counter-revolutionary or a racist running dog, to paraphrase Mao, or a Uncle Tom or Aunt Jemima or Tio Taco to quote everybody else. Self-criticism is always called for. Why did you sell out and what did you get out of it are legitimate questions, in the correct dialectic. What we’ve seen the last few months is just the warmup for what must come, if viewed through a revolutionary lens.

            Come the revolution—if the revolution comes—there must be revolutionary justice. Cancel Culture on steroids, you could say. Trials and sentences, perhaps time to spend in re-education in the countryside a la the Cultural Revolution or in Siberia a la Joe Stalin. You're not cancelling people for what they've done, you're outing them to make sure they don't do it again. Making sure that everyone knows they are responsible for their own shit, not to repeat myself. "Talking black and sleeping white." Should a defendant face such a serious charge before a revolutionary tribunal—we will allow an affirmative defense, a possible out. Those who are suspected of infidelity to the cause can claim radical purpose for sleeping with the enemy. 

               

The Auto-Obituary of Lucius X

During a decades-long career, noted black revolutionary Lucius X traveled the American South and was proudest of his service as correspondent for the Monitor in a pisspot town upriver from McAllen, if you know where that is, on the Mexican border called Rio Grande City. It was an experience that X later described as frustrating at the time, only because the locals thought that he was a narc, who was sent there to report back to pigs in D.C. on the flourishing U.S.-Mexico drug trade. To set the scene.

“Rio was a major trans-shipment point, money going one way and drugs the other, I was actually trying to score some weed for myself most of the time I was there,” he reminisced years later of his time on Texas' big river. "I asked a trafficker I knew to just let me sweep up the barn after the next load, you know? I knew the mother lode was in reach but no one would sell to me. That's turned out to be a metaphor for my life.”

The only really newsworthy event during his stay in Rio was a shipment of white powder that arrived on the Mexican side of the river and traffickers paid $100 to every man, woman and child in the village, to carry product from trucks to boats, so that no one could go to the federales later and tell tales. Even abuelita was a mule that day, X recalled fondly. The intrepid young Lucius wrote a human interest story about how people planned to spend the $100 they had earned. He was 67 at the time of his passing, in Puerto Angel, Oaxaca. He is survived by daughter China Bates of Salvador da Bahia, and Florianopolis, Santa Catarina, Brazil. His lone offspring was the result of a brief hook-up in Porto Alegre during the period of X's world travels. Genetically-unique from birth Lucius X was tri-testone positive, a rare autosomal-dominant condition in which a Black man-child is born with three large testicles and inordinate courage. Only six in 14 billion male babies have three big ones. Of those six, only two will live to mate. Lucius X was one of those Negroes.

This extraordinary medical condition has been associated thruout history with African kings. Hannibal, Ramses II, Shaka Zulu as well as African-American revolutionaries Nat Turner—Malcolm X and Marcus Garvey. All were tri-testonia positive. “I was born with three and I’ll die with three,” Lucius X told his doctors as a teenager, when the medicos wanted to surgically remove one nut in order to bring him to heel for the White Race. 

This was Lucius X's first refusal to be de-masculated. It would not be his last. 

Without the extra virility accompanied by a third nut, Lucius X would never have dared to question the status quo, commentators and doctors agree. Efforts by this X-Man to bring race to the forefront of international dialogue translated into various literary endeavors by X as well. His one-act play The Pool Man Cometh, about a black family entering the middle class, just celebrated its 1,000th performance, in Stockholm after being shunned at home, where X was blacklisted by The Man and The Man's media. If one looks thru a race-critical lens. On the scientific front Lucius X predicted the end of skin color as a social distinction within decades, as optimists have hoped, but its quick replacement by DNA. “There are two things a black man can’t allow anybody else to do for him,” he wrote to his unborn child in the New Yorker, “his fucking and his fighting.” The classic X essay “Dick Don’t Lie” explores the Black Man’s spiritual relationship with his bone and includes his famous warning for black men to avoid Caucasian women, as much as possible, if there is other puddy available, because, “White pussy has killed more niggers than gunfire.”

His “Electric Negro” speaks to the African-American and technology and was first published in the U.K. as “The Black Man and the Internet,” in which the prominent social theorist Lucius X predicted the Fall of the White Race through the unfiltered protest of the unchained African-American male. He said he wasn't a sexist, "just a realist." Lucius X believed that, historically, most oppressors have created the means of their own destruction—in the case of The White Man, Lucius X believed that Achilles heel is the World Wide Web. 

“Hills Like Black Elephants,” one of his most beloved stories, chronicles 48 hours in the life of a young brother being asked to deny paternity of his girlfriend’s baby, and is a soliloquy by this would-be young father. The story appears in most credible anthologies of World Fiction. He liked to read women’s magazines, X famously said, “to know what the enemy is planning.” He saw women fundamentally as competitors. Unless she's really really fine. “The fundamental conflict is not racial,” he wrote in the Times, “it’s sexual and I’m not at all sanguine about men’s chances. My sense is that women are plotting all the time.” The series of works that best illustrate X's theme was completed late in his life, during his so-called Black Period, and is called by critics and historians, “The Fall of Man.” The scene of the narrative is deep space where unfolds X's most controversial work, the post-Modernist science fiction trilogy, Planet of the Hos. 

The three-book narrative, unfinished at the time of his death, POH recounts the struggle of a Black Admiral in command of a Federation Fleet chasing pirates in an outer nebula, who are raiding robot vessels in deep space. To set the scene. The Black Admiral follows stolen cargo to the far outskirts of the Federation itself—to a planet called Ho, run by women, where men are merely reproductive and used like bee drones, only in service to an all-powerful Black Queen. 

The Times of London has called Planet of the Hos, “the ultimate work on race and gender in Deep Space.” 

X's oeuvre includes the black man's account of his Final Confrontation with white women who want to de-masculinate him, by draining his seed. “The medium is the message but more importantly,” Lucius X wrote in his autobiographic Electric Negro Plus, “the writer is the story.” 

Throughout his career, Lucius X tried to create an authentic Portrait of the Black Male, “etched in charcoal,” as he described his vision, “and painted Black.” In terms of his literary oeuvre, Lucius X is probably best known as author of what many critics consider the greatest single work of Black Literature—a unique story of human redemption that has served to light a fuse for an entire generation's struggle. Nigger on the Run is the story of the small-town thug Flood, the mythic Every Nigger, a petty gangbanger who escapes arrest in Mississippi where he’s been robbing supermarkets after parole, and goes to West Africa and discovers his own Promised Land. 

To set the scene. Like the author, Flood has three balls. But unlike the real Lucius X, the antihero #43 Flood lacks the discipline to deal with the waves of sudden masculinity that eventually destroy him. Only his African experience allows Flood to rise above baser instincts that he was born with and the sociopathic urges caused by having three big ones. 

Only when he returns to the source of his dysfunction, Mississippi, is Flood doomed. In this short work Lucius X portrays a brother “who achieves Black Liberation not in America but from America,” according to the Times. Denzel Washington, who has portrayed Flood on stage, describes Nigger on the Run as the most difficult role in the Black Oeuvre. “Like Hamlet but deeper,” Washington told BBC last year, after a performance at the Old Vic.

Lucius X was always attentive to stagecraft.

His one-man show Black Rage features a Negro male alone 0n stage, sitting in a chair with a bright light in his eyes, like during a police interrogation. The White Interrogator remains in the shadows. Instead of turning rat and accepting the plea deal Flood begins rapping to the unseen pigs about his experience as a Black Man in America. The Negro turns the chair around, to sit astride it, still discoursing about Black Masculinity to the white puercos. 

Rejecting the historical role of the Negro as “victim” of the nefarious White Man, and White Woman, instead this revolutionary Negro chose to be a Black Avenger. Thus was the Black Circle closed. The X-Man claimed to believe in so-called “reparations-on-the-go” in which black people take from white society, in small chunks, compensation for past wrongs. Often when no one is looking, like on the Bulk Aisle at Whole Foods. 

In an interview last year when asked to sum up his own life Lucius X said that he attempted to “reach the other side,” he called it, in which he could express his Black Manhood not without fear of retaliation by the so-called “white bitches,” male and female, black and white. That was something that he doubted would be possible during his lifetime. But, instead, without the retaliation having any effect. That was the goal of his life, he said, not Fame nor Fortune, not the most pussy or to only smoke the best herb, “but the coherence of my rap,” he told the Post three weeks before he put a gun to his own damn head. To set the scene one last time.

 While in an inner tube a quarter mile offshore from Zipolite, in the Mexican state of Oaxaca, in order to feed the damn fishes and renew the circle once more, that is what he planned to do, he told the Black Press by email before he pulled the trigger. 

The frequent criticism leveled against X's work, that he turned whites into “stick figures,” was never true, Lucius X said. 

“We know white people. How could we not, working in their homes and kitchens and driving them around? Taking care of their spoiled little fuckhead kids? But they don’t know us because when they go to the hood they’re always just tourists, you dig? We are in white homes,” he lamented wistfully, “in order to clean up messes they’ve made.” 

In lieu of flowers X asked everyone to fire up a fat one and put on some funk. 

He suggested, “You Dropped a Bomb on Me” by the Gap Band. 

 

Governor Abbott's Sister-in-Law the MD

  

            Governor Abbott’s sister-in-law is a physician in Austin. She’s internal medicine, works with a group that visits a few hospitals around town, or she did two or three years ago when our paths last crossed. Her name doesn’t matter. Not knowing her on a personal level but having taken orders from her as a nurse, on a couple of occasions, and still not being an expert on her practice or anything but having seen her do her job—talking about her job performance is useful in the context of judging how well the governor himself is doing his, handling pandemic in the state. 

            We had a revealing interaction once a few years ago, not me and the governor but me and his sister-in-law, at my prior hospital or the one before that. So, like, she reminded me, at that time, that we had actually interacted years earlier too—me calling her in the middle of the night to get orders. My first name is not common and she remembered it and remarked this time, in person, about putting a face to the name and all that. Anyway this time in person she was behind the nurses station doing some charting and the reason for approaching her was that my patient—our patient—was going south. 

            So, like, it wasn’t like TV or a movie, people running here and there—no code was called, that was my call actually and there was no reason to make it. Calling the rapid response team as a precaution might have been appropriate, in hindsight, that won’t be debated here. The problem was developing slowly, the patient wasn’t critical and we had time. It was a problem beyond my training to resolve or fully understand. The patient was African-American, not that that’s important here, a former University of Texas football player, again not that that’s important. His blood pressure was dropping, that was important. An IV was started, he’d gotten a whole bag of fluids and his pressure was still going down. So, like, the physician who happens to be the governor’s sister-in-law looked up at me, listened to my explanation of what was going on and after that it was pretty much textbook all the way. She checked her computer for prior vital signs, checked his labs and looked at her notes, a handful of folded sheets of paper taken from her white coat pocket. She picked up her stethoscope and went to the bedside and did a head to toe examination. As it turned out this guy had an internal bleed.

            The thing about the governor’s sister-in-law is that she’s a good doctor. That’s said with 20 years experience as a RN, having taken a lot of orders, having seen a lot of MDs—the good, the bad and the scary. It’s also said given that nurses like to rag doctors. Working with physicians, taking their orders—not only listening to the decisions being made, but having to carry them out—you get to be a pretty good judge of physician foibles and competency. The governor’s sister-in-law more than passed muster. 

            Most of my experience has been in pediatrics and my occasional practice, for whatever reason, is to imagine people as they were when they were kids. Hearing about this lady doctor’s powerful brother-in-law—and checking her out later, out of the corner of my eye—in my mind’s eye she was a kid back in middle school, sitting at a table alone doing her work. 
           A little introverted, and quiet, good at math and maybe science or drawing, she kept her own counsel except maybe mom. And kept on trucking through medical school, graduated about ten or fifteen ago, during a less diverse time, not at all easy, especially coming from a family of modest means, American-born descendants from Mexico, Wikipedia tells us. And the way nurses judge physicians, it comes down to a basic question: Would you want that doctor taking care of you or would you want him or her writing orders on your child? My answer is most definitely yes. Because, me standing there telling her about the patient going bad, what was important about this physician's response was what she didn’t do as much as what she did. 

            She didn’t keep on charting. She stopped typing at my approach. She didn’t tell me to send blood to the lab. She didn’t say, “I’ll put him on my list.” She didn’t tell me to do the head to toe myself. She stopped what she was doing, made eye contact and got up to examine the patient. She’s a good doctor and a good person too. She is probably also under considerable pressure not to fuck up, as the governor’s sister-in-law, and all, the same way the governor is under pressure not to fuck up because he’s the governor. Anyway, no code got called. The governor's sister-in-law took care of the problem before it became an emergency. The thing that nursing teaches you, and taught me, is that the best way to deal with an emergency is not to have it in the first place. 

             Get to the patient early, like the governor’s sister-in-law did with the ex-Longhorn. With kids especially there’s nothing you can say as explanation to a mother or father who has lost a child and the best way to handle that conversation is not to have to have it, which is an impossible standard but one to keep in mind with COVID-19. The best way to deal with a viral outbreak is to lock down—extreme measures are called for—call the code—or better yet, don't have the outbreak in the first place. The learning curve can be steep. 

             An example of how everyone was so caught by surprise involves, once again, the governor's sister in law, the MD. Many physicians, internists like our lady doctor, are part of private practices, of maybe a dozen MDs, or advanced practice nurses, mostly internists, who have contracts to see patients at different hospitals around town and must travel between those sites. 

            Ditto some of the specialists and many, many surgeons. They travel between campuses. And just because you have a medical degree, you know, or a nursing license, and no matter how well you scrub your hands, you can still be a disease vector, and despite the gowns and gloves—and the masks—you can be a carrier. And had people thought of that beforehand, maybe, but maybe not, because what we’re seeing now is unlike anything we’ve seen before. This is some dystopian shit. 

            So, like, that's why it's good to know there are good doctors out there. It’s important because it really is like your mother told you back in the day. You can be judged you by the company you keep. And the governor is presumably keeping good company, with the First Lady and her sister. And let's hope he's listening to their advice.