Morgan Freeman: The Voice That Soothes White Privilege.

Hey, do you know what really chaffs my nuts? This, and that by that I mean the Happy Feet Blurb. Actually read them all. I'll start with the Happy Feet one. All the rest will be tied in later.  Read it:

Yeah, that's right penguins needed antidepressants. The penguins at a British zoo couldn't cope with the torrential rain, and so they became depressed. Yup, it turns out Happy feet is Sad feet. As a result they're on Celexa.  Now I know what your thinking. Your thinking that these creatures are built for testical shriveling subzero temperatures because there penguins, right? So what's the problem with a little rain. I mean they got to be wusses for that. But hold on; wouldn't you be sad if Morgan Freeman stopped narrating your life story? I mean it's Morgan Freeman for god sakes.

Morgan Freeman has a voice that's kind, understanding, and empathetic even when its tone is angry. He makes everything seem ok. Seriously, he does.  He comforts everyone.  He narrated "The Shawshank Redemption" and somehow made prison rape seem alright.  Now that in mind there is one thing that I've noticed,  his voice is especially comforting to White People. Why is that?  I've tried to figure it out, and I haven't really figured out a definite answer.  Could it be that he reminds white folks that not all large black men are dangerous?  Does his voice make white men feel safe to have their girlfriends or wives in the presence of his vocals?  And if they become his sweet ass bitches, who cares, it Morgan Freeman.  I mean that man could narrate the massacre of an entire village, the clubbing of baby seals-hell a nuclear holocaust, and white people everywhere would wipe their brows in relief.  Why?  Because how bad could it be?  It's Morgan Freeman.

     That is why I believe that it should be mandatory that all news be reported by Mr. Freeman.  Even if if he just gargles, we'd all feel better about the state of the world.


Now remember how I said that I would tie all those blurbs together, get ready for this. The antidepressant part, when I found out that Samuel L. Jackson wasn't Morgan Freeman,  I too needed antidepressants. See how I tie in that whole Samuel L. Jackson thing for up above. That was the second bulb about how the Los Angeles Anchorman who confused Samuel Jackson with Morgan Freeman.  Shit! The Anchorman had confused Samuel L. Jackson with Laurence Fishburne, not Morgan Freeman.  Still when I found out  Jackson and Fishburne weren't Morgan Freeman, I was devastated. Hence, I needed Antidepressants. See How I combined the antidepressant with the second blurb.  

How could that be? I mean don't they all look ... before I finished that sentence let me just say that this a joke.  In case you haven't noticed I was mocking white people, and their discomfort with other races   aka concealed racism it could be called I guess.  Stereotypes like all Jews being cheap, or  the myth that all prostitutes give black guys group rates.  Get it.  And by the way I know that black people don't all look alike.  Still, when I found out that that neither Jackson nor Fishburne were Morgan Freeman, my heart ached like an arthritic knee before it rains.  His smoothing low tones could seduce a rabid animal.  I mean his eloquence is like that of cherry blossoms gently raining down on me on a cool spring afternoon, tickling my skin. With it's caresses each peddle feels like the gentle touch of a caring lover who wants to give their very soul to me.  The magnificence of his chuckle touches the most inner vulnerable piece of my being until I feel content with every facet of the universe. So you can see my disappointment when I learned that he wasn't every black man I've seen on TV.  See how I tied those to blurbs together? Did you see that?


Now in terns of the of third thing, the Canadian metal band who charged the U.S. government for using their music to torment Guantanamo Bay Detainees, well they did that because they needed money.  They needed money for all the therapy they going to need for the pain they'd feel, for also realizing that not only is Samuel L. Jackson not Morgan Freeman, but Laurence Fishburne isn't either.  The pain, and anger they felt was so huge that they would decided that living on an isolated compound in the middle of nowhere as well as the best drugs that man can buy would be the only thing that would sooth them.  Only they'd find that it was just going to shelter the pain until one of those really cheesy Coke commercials with the arctic animals all being friends came on.  You know the ones were the polar bears are hugging seals and giving big high five's to penguins, then kissing eskimos and shit.  Well that would absolutely drive them bat shit nuts.  So much so that they'd  drive their tour bus in terror into a busy intersection where they'd hallucinate that they had actually run themselves over.  They would then die and go to heaven, and there they'd meet God, who is Morgan Freeman. OMG! I know right?  That is until they'd discover that due to them playing "the devil's music" they were in hell.  Their punishment would be having their worst day alive narrated by that Morgan Freeman.  The thing is that that Morgan Freeman wouldn't have the smooth voice like carmel, but a nasally cross between Fran Drescher and Gilbert Gottfried. Yeah,

   

















that guy above, and her.

 No, that didn't, and probably won't happen.  But if it did wouldn't that be crazy cool?  Right? Seriously though, the one thing I got to say about that last piece is this: HA HA! Hows that for copyright infringement? So much for the Federal Governments laws against pirated material (music, movies ext ...) And I guess it's true, "Piracy really isn't a victimless crime", at least not according to the detainees of Guantanamo Bay.  HA HA!
With that I will let you go.


Until the nest rash.



Lou Ford.

FIN