Like many older people who have lived through the challenging American cultural/media events of the last few decades, the current 2020 Minneapolis riots in the wake of the police killing of George Floyd is familiar territory. I try not to be cynical, but nothing has changed, nor will it. There is money to be made by the media, and fame and power to to achieved by race hustlers and morally bankrupt politicians and community leaders lying to the Black American community. Those courageous Black pastors and social commentators who still push on trying to make a difference. Maybe they can continue to save a few.
Anyway, current events brought back memories of this article I wrote for my web site in the wake of the ’92 Los Angeles Riots. Been there, saw that. Black Americans in Minneapolis arming themselves and protecting their lives and properties while the “Progressives” abandon them to the repercussions of their failed social policies are a throwback to the Koreans of LA who found themselves in the same unfortunate scenario, almost 38 years ago.
Driving through the contorted city was a surreal, strange experience. The columns ofL.A. riot fire smoke rose into the air like bizarre, branchless trees, some close, some miles off in the distance. The burning buildings right next to the freeway looked like movie props, a set carefully manufactured for the filming of a typical Hollywood action movie. Maybe a war movie? An assault on an enemy city? But this was real. The cross streets that ran under the overpasses of the 110 freeway were all but abandoned, except for the lone pedestrian darting across the pavement. At some intersections, there were a lot more. Angry, looting mobs, milling in the streets. Carloads of then flying up and down the freeways, up one on-ramp, and down another, on their gleeful, destructive ways.
The 1992 Los Angeles riots.The LA Riots
I don’t know what compelled me to drive through there, but being in the area of South Central LA the day after the initial rioting began and watching it on the news, I had to see for myself what was really going on. I had picked up a load of product for the business and was at the “fork in the road.” Home was East, and away from the war zone. South Central was just to the West, and South down the 110.
Read The Rest: How Soon We Forget…