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Saharan Sands Over America Disproves
CO2 Makes A Hotter World

By Yoichi Shimatsu
Exclusive to Rense

A vast Saharan dust storm is visible over a huge swath of the former Confederate states. Millions of tons of sand from western Africa is falling over the American South, which might be interpreted by Voodoo practitioners and BLM true believers as revenge of their native divinities for the crimes of slavery since the dust does indeed carry the seeds of destruction, microscopic payloads of pandemic diseases like Ebola, chikungunya and MERS enclosed in specks of camel dung and human feces. Though I'd like to stick with the meteorology of the Great Sand Passage, there's a dimension to this quiet disaster related to Black Lives Matters and its attitudes shaped by African demagogues with their perpetual blame game on colonialism and lack of personal accountability for their own looting and pillaging. Looters'R'Us from Senegal to Seattle, Madagascar to Minneapolis. So this is a wide-ranging discussion to show the political-cultural mindset behind the troubles in the Snake-Eyes Year 2020.

There's no doubt that the dispersal of diseases will take its worst toll on the subgroup most vulnerable to health disorders, African Americans, who are starting to suffer malnutrition from arson attacks on neighborhood markets by the local brand of Boko Haram aka Black Lives Matters and who must spend sleepless nights on neighborhood watch due to police pullouts from minority communities to prevent the rampant crime wave from young thieves that Democratic city council are unloosing against the minority population and sneaker stores.

All the money donated to BLM has gone missing because it's just another Nigerian scam organized by Opal Tometi of Lagos and her local sidekicks Alicia Garcia and Patrisse Khan-Cullors, the BLM founders who no doubt are purchasing million-dollar homes in wealthy white neighborhoods with the loot they're making off with and laundering somewhere in a Caribbean tax haven. Just remember, sweethearts, Orange is the New Black.

Genuine Africans on the Continent refer to the dreadful art of witchcraft as “the python in the female belly” and “the snake of the women”, which apply to this trio of poisonous vipers beholden to a strange pagan idol that's just sent an airborne dune of pathogen-infected sand to kill off African Americans throughout these Southern states. Their high priestess is called The Baboon, the wife of Babi, the ancient Egyptian beast god. Black lives matter only for their ritualsacrifice, as seen at the Temple of CHAD under rapper Brother Razzmataz.

The psychic dimension and the geophysical world are interactive, as disclosed in the venerable theory of synchronicity. I learned about the system of traditional beliefs from a Zulu witch doctor of benign sorcery named Wally, who'd untie a small leather bag and toss three bones on the ground for revelation from an oracle. The one thing the spry old man wanted me to learn was how to break an evil spell, as I did for that young Black actor in Chicago under pressure to deliver one of his sisters' babies for offering up to the dark gods by a top movie director, a member of the inner circle.

Beaucoup Harm from Nigerian scams and Boko Haram

The arrival of the virus-laden sandstorm is happening at the same moment that COV and the BLM riots are starting to wind down at the midnight triple witching hour, as these snakes crawl back under their rock to sleep on their ill-gained wealth from blackmailing corporate “donors” with the threat of slander and boycotts. In legal parlance, their felonious crime is extortion, with murders yet to be seriously investigated. Chief spitting cobra Opel Tometi also founded Black Alliance for Just Immigration (BAJI), which advocates open immigration from the African continent, the postmodern version of what used to be called the Slave Trade. Yes sir, Blacks are fully capable of enslaving their own people to do the menial tasks in domestic service or selling trinkets and drugs on the city sidewalk for a small weekly fee to the colored mafia, or selling the boys and girls to the highest bidder at the Ping Pong Pizza auction. It's just so Nigerian of which there's an alternative pronunciation that that late politically incorrect and therefore honest Richard Pryor could have told you.

Slavery is alive and well across Africa and thanks to BLM now arriving in the USA, with young African girls competing with their lesser Haitian rivals. The triple witches who wear the britches at BLM are doing nothing about unshackling their own field Negroes or helping the homeless man on the ghetto street in the Americas. Oh, there's something that Trump supporters should know about Nigerian slang, which is how to you say “one stupid know-nothing fool”. Maga. Got it? Anyway, these ladies shall always have an open invitation from me for a charcoal-broiled stake dinner over my campfire, BYO meat.

In contrast to these Daughters of the Satanic Conflagration, Wally the bone rattler was an anti-apartheid fighter with an infectious sense of humor, who had served time in South African prisons for many a year but never ever held a grudge against any white person, not even his jailers, because he was an open and above-board hero with a wicked sense of humor. Wally, it's terrible that you're not with us here now to put an end to this Season of the Witch. We thought it was white devils that played these sorts of deadly games, but not we're learning about the black demons in our midst who have to be exorcised with the web of a black widow spider (That was Lesson No.8 or so). I wish you eternal happiness up there, even if it turns out to be a bit chilly compared with Soweto, Ntokozo! Happiness is yours eternally, my brother, because you earned it.

Mealy corn and sausages with hot sauce, those were the good times when apartheid at least made some degree of sense, at least to oppose, whereas the rioting today has zero logic. Destroy a whole store on Fifth Avenue to rob a pair of sneakers, and so who's going to have to pay for that in the end? Some undernourished workers in Vietnam? Thanks so much for doing my people in for your bling-bling addiction, and you talk about opposing oppression. What do you Nigerian think I am, Maga? Instead I will be showing you some MAGA, fool.

The Sky's falling

Now as I unwrap the bandanna from around my face, let's deal with the Saharan sand storm that's been sweeping through this neck of the swamp, just what I did not need. Florida is a open zoo of predators, from gators to all sorts of venomous snakes, relentless skeeters and vicious fleas, horror spiders, and even the shiny golden grasshoppers are poisonous, along with those blood-thirsty bacteria-spewing cute otters. So now there's Ebola and Chikungunya dropping out of the sky. These are bad times for the descendants of slaves throughout the Caribbean, deprived of cruise-ship tourist dollars, and also for residents of the Gulf region from Texas to Florida, with temperatures superheated by the desert wind into high 90s.

High-tone Negroes in NYC, Minneapolis and Seattle aren't going to be sending foreign aid packages to Black folks down here in the Deep South, that's guaranteed by greed since loot isn't something you hand out without getting arrested. No such criminal activity happened here in the Black communities or in neighboring Alabama or Mississippi, where people were working jobs and otherwise complying with the COVID lockdown. They're not crazed dope addicts, but free people of modest means, since freedom includes the right to an intact brain.

The Untold Storm

Sadly, this epic story of a great sandstorm out of Africa is not being told by the craven news media or any regional storyteller up to a challenge, at least not since the Mississippi blues days or after Disney banned “Song of the South”, the Uncle Remus and Br'er Rabbit tale, starring James Baskett, the first male Black actor to win an Academy Award, banished by his own people for his allegedly being an Uncle Tom in a minstrel show. Sorry, folks, humming “Zip-a-Dee-Doh-Dah” is how I get through the worst days with a smile. Br'er Rabbit molasses, that runs so slow in winter, is the next to go and after that the beans into the plastic garbage bag so your BLM ladies can dine on smoked salmon atop radiccio at an uptown NYC reservations only restaurant. Killing every last item from the past, isn't that a great way to erase history, topple a statue and put yourself on a pedestal?

Go ride a broomstick back to Abuja, where you belong with your coven on Aso Rock. Your sour attitude is destroying icons of Black America and national historical relics that should be preserved, even though some over-sensitive people take those images from the American Revolution and Civil War, evidence of this nation's agony in achieving equality for all, to be demeaning.

If Red Foxx was alive today, you'd banish him from the BET channel. Exaggeration and making fun of different characters is all part of the folk tradition, the roots of any nation. Nobody is spared some ribbing in the celebration of the national family, other than the Founding Fathers, and that's for institutional reasons and something precious called the Constitution. So relocate to Africa where you have the right to stage a coup to be another humorless Robert Mugabe or a pompous Idi Amin, because that's your dream, absolute power and autocracy, certainly not rough-and-tumble democracy.

The absence of soul is expressed in the pathetic narcissism of hip-hop and the smug self-serving “progressive” elitism of the Boule fraternities, which starti with WEB Du Bois, it's spelled right like a spider's network of Masonic idolatry cloaked in Bolshevism. Now with his same hustle, you're guilt-tripping the corporate CEOs and white politicians to kneel to the Black bourgeoisie sorority sisters that is BLM Inc. Admit it, what you really want is to dress up in a chiffon gown in an old-style Southern ballroom with the rich white girls fawning over you, the princess of the occasion. Meghan pulled it of, and so it's now your turn to be Miss Ann. And your willing to break all the rules to get there.

Ambitious Blacks like yourselves packed up and headed uptown, rejecting the down-to-earth experience required to emerge as the Faulkner of the Black South, a region where so many African-Americans are genteel and speak in a mellifluous cadence, without the scars of disorientation from the diaspora to the cold north and harsh west of this vast nation. That unforgettable voice will surface someday to put you poseurs to shame.

All we hear from BLM about the South is the strident demand for neo-fascist censorship in denial of uncomfortable truths in Margaret Mitchell's “Gone with the Wind”. Every person, and even more so writers, carries a personal prejudice. That's an unavoidable aspect of the human condition called the limited individual perspective onto social values and the necessity of change. Candid honestly with all the warts and scars expressed from observation filtered through the prejudices of the time opens the window onto enduring human relationships that overwhelm one's own myopia, as in the endearing care by Mammy for Scarlett, a genuine motherly love that promises to overcome whatever privilege, unfairness, hatred and fear brought on by an oppressive economic system and the unbearable crisis of the time, through the brutality of the Civil War and traumas that accompanied Emancipation that resonate down to this day.

Instead of HBO imposing a ban on GWTW in infringement of the First Amendment, it would be fairer to promote a rerun of “Roots” or “Glory”, or any other of the dozens of works on the freedom struggle. The problem is that all of that self-righteous genre consists of propaganda lacking the social graces and human empathy in contrast to a novel of manners that reveals the Southern identity with all its illusions, disappointments and indeed sense of victimization. The attitudes on display are certainly misguided but that what make literature so fascinating, when the reader wants to shout “Wake up, you blind fool!”, because the fact is everyone is foolish when it comes to matters of the heart or some wrong cause and on down the list of disastrous choices or sometimes the right but risky choice on a whim. Due to our dreamy emotional attachment in quest of romantic idealism transcending the messy real world, hard-headed political correctness invariably falls short of the mark at art, fiction, theater and the movies. That's why contemporary culture belongs in a landfill. Now that I blurted it out, that's probably going to be the next big trend, a million dollars for a plastic of stinking garbage.

A great Black novelist instead of resorting to cheap self-righteous condemnation would treat those tensions and hypocrisy with gentleness and sudden shock, as in GWTW, which is matched only distantly by “A Streetcar named Desire”, another masterpiece from a white Southerner. BLM is run by people who studied American literature at major universities and came away knowing nothing of its cultural importance. Any uneducated fool can riot; you don't need a college degree to toss a molotov or steal a pair of Nikes, but it takes attending class instead politicking on campus to comprehend a book.

Hurrah for the South

What I've observed in this region is that, despite the usual underhanded urban real-estate land-grabs, there does exist close-knit relationships between blacks and whites, based a code of decency toward each other in the South, which does not exist in the hard-hearted cities of the North, where alienation reigns supreme in every mind, regardless of race or religion. Love thy enemy is exactly what's missing today during riots and lockdown, when everyone gives commands or resists those demands out of sheer spite. Under a veneer of political correctness, this is the season of hatred and selfishness across America, except for here in Dixie, where BLM witchcraft is simply irrelevant. How ironic is that?

The South, which realizes it lost the war, deserves care and sympathy for taking these outbursts of verbal abuse in sullen silence, and now being blanketed by disease-bearing sand that falls invisibly from the milky sky, raising outdoor temperatures to the high 90s and suddenly stopping rainfall. I was outdoors a couple of days ago to finish some planting in a garden for a friend in a race against an fast-approaching thunderhead, whose arrival was announced by the crackling of lightning bolts and booming bursts. A few fat drops hit the dust but then the dark sky suddenly lit up and glowed eerily like tarnished silverware, while fine-grade sand drifted down imperceptibly other than the smell of dust and absence of humidity. The cloud quickly fragmented and disappeared, vanquished and banished from the glazed-over sky. I pulled the bandanna up over my nose, sped up the pace of planting and watering, and then strode indoors to escape the toxic dust. Besides, the infectious dung in the fallout, there's probably a bit of radioactivity due to the yellow-cake open-pit uranium mine operation in northern Niger near the Libyan border.

Global warming theory collapses

The high-altitude sand storm out of North Africa that traversed the Atlantic to raise temperatures across the Caribbean and then circled back through Texas to Georgia has definitively proven the fallacy of global warming theory as I examine further along. The closed shutters and locked windows of my room in central Florida are not due to the COVID-19 lockdown but intended for lung protection against microscopic particles of camel manure, some of it infected by MERS coronavirus, and dozens of other infectious diseases in powderized human excrement from Mali and other parts of Western Africa.

COV protection with a mask is a mere nuisance compared with being covered from head to toe with the soft armor that I've learned to wear on the northern edge of the Baja desert as a child farm worker. A vivid memory from childhood was riding in a 1930s Dust Bowl vintage automobile traveling through a sea of dunes south of the Salton Sea and Indio as streams of sand zigzagged ahead along the two-lane road like giant white serpents. At the other end of a lifetime, as an eco-consultant in the Gobi-Kumtag deserts and arid Tibetan highlands, and a journalist chasing smugglers across the Himalayas in the dry season, blowing sands have been an irritating nuisance and infectious threat, affecting nostrils, throat and lungs, which sickened me for six months are completing the video for “Flight of a Karmapa”.

There may even be eggs of wind-driven locusts in the sand storm, soon to emerge anywhere from Arizona to Georgia, and further north since the swirling sands have reached as far north as Maine. Asthmatics are the canaries in the pit, since immune reactions begin with more sensitive people, whereas being hardier I suffer just a stuffy nose and itchy eyes. The early warning signs get me to lock the windows tight, tighten the shutters and put throw rugs or towels at the bottom of doors. Wraparound sunglasses, bandanna, a hat and gloves (since fingers are used to rub itchy eyes) are mandatory outdoors, a routine learned not only in overt deserts but also high arid zones as in the Himalayas and Antelope Valley in California and also the Arctic region. These are not emergency measures but merely a part of staying alive in a hostile environment, like wearing a suit for self-protection at a business meeting in Manhattan or Shinjuku.

COVID hot spell debunks climate theory

Florida, where early summertime rain and humidity tend to lower temperatures, serves as a reliable indicator of this emerging threat, being a meteorological thermometer so to speak. What's been driving the unprecedented Saharan sand storm? The answer is obviously not rising carbon dioxide levels, not during the COV lock-downs worldwide when CO2 levels from industry and vehicles have radically dropped over this past half year.

Lower carbon dioxide and methane levels in Europe cause a reduction in cloud cover and fog, and therefore greater visibility and consequent higher levels of solar radiation across the Mediterranean region and throughout northern and western Africa. The clear sky following a sharp decrease in carbon emissions is the obvious cause of the intense heat driving the unprecedented sand storms. This is also part of a long-term trend since the heavy industrial air-pollution during the 1950s and '60s.

The Saharan sand phenomena is the clearest evidence so far that global warming trend is caused not by higher carbon dioxide levels, but to the contrary from lower CO2 emissions with nothing blocking sunshine. Radioactivity from nuclear plants, especially Fukushima No.1, increases visibility by ionizing airborne organic gases and interfering with cloud formation. I can compare the breathable air quality in Los Angeles nowadays with the 1960s when I did a summer job in a factory in smog-bound East L.A. under a permanent shadow of auto emissions trapped inside the Basin's inversion layer. Those overcast conditions ceased to exist decades ago due to improvements in vehicle fuel and engine design. In that same time-frame, homeowners' yards turned from deep green to dead dry brown, blamed on a water shortage. The problem is called evaporation due to sunlight. If the self-appointed climate theorists were to be correct, LA should now be an overgrown tropical jungle instead of a bone-dry Death Valley.

Europe removes the smog shield

Global warming theory is therefore an upside-down proposition reversing the actual pattern of cause-and-effect in the thermodynamics of solar radiation, which is being further increased by “clean tech” eco-energy in Europe, which does not produce emissions. Ocean-going ships no longer leave trails of smoke, since marine engines are now running much cleaner than in the steamship era. The UN COP summits are pushing policies that promote global warming and its “solutions” are only raising worldwide outdoors temperatures.

The only way to slow down the desertification of Planet Earth is either to rapidly increase carbon emissions (meanwhile shutting down all falsely labeled “green” energy sources), or promote massive concentration of herds of cattle and other meat animals on human-designed “grasslands”, semi-natural pastures, while reducing farm acreage, especially the water-consuming vegetable and fruit categories. Vegans have little idea how much damage their fields and irrigation systems are doing to nature. Everything you've leaned about the environment is a suicidal fairy tale from ultra-rich eco-hypocrites making life miserable for the poorer residents of Long Island and Patagonia with their conspicuous consumption, massive land purchases and luxury lifestyles.

Environmentalist Apocalypse

Deserts are an integral part of the global environment and only plumb-fool government officials and environmentalists from temperate green-landscape societies hope to convert arid lands into lush forests. If their dreams ever came true and the Sahara were to be greened, then the high-pressure zone over North Africa and the equatorial Atlantic would collapse, resulting in Europe being beset by alternating droughts and floods, as has been happening due to the UN's tampering with the Sahara by promoting irrigation works and pumping up ground water, much of that contaminated by heavy metals like arsenic and copper, which kills off the sparse grasses and other desert flora. The rich Western nations have dumped billions of dollars into trying to turn yellow soil into green landscapes, with projects that invariably fail and also promote a cycle of population growth ending in mass kill-offs of animals, including the human variety, which increases the concentrations of bacteria and viruses in the soil and dust storms from across the Atlantic.

A different herd solution

Converting grasses into meat is the safest and most efficient way to produce protein for the human diet with the added benefits of recycling natural fertilizer onto the soil and concentrating methane evaporation to generate rain clouds. Range management is a complex science and art, quite the opposite skill set of the vapid theory of misguided climate “experts”, nearly all of them never having done any real hands-on pastoral work. Trees are for hugging, but grass is the starting line of the food chain. As in the farmers' almanac it takes a lifetime to understand nature's rhythms and listen to her cries of pain, especially at the hands of arrogant know-nothings and their faked data.

The locals, Floridians, tell me this is the hottest summer ever and they wonder out loud about the curse of being hit with COVID and the Saharan heat at once. Never mind BLM rioting here, it's much too hot to be tossing molotovs at police cars, not to mention this is the Deep South, where the local hard-working black community have a far better understanding of the realities of slavery and the many benefits since the Emancipation Act, something lost on drug dealers, radical-chic terrorists and hip-hop looters up north.

It's not that the outside agitators with BLM haven't tried to stir up trouble here, by dumping piles of bricks in African-American communities. As it turned out many local African American residents are brick layers and gardeners overjoyed about receiving building materials without having to pay Home Depot, thanks to their long-lost northern cousins and benefactor George Soros, whose monument is definitely going to be torn down anyway south of the Mason-Dixon line. Send in more bricks, but please leave them neatly stacked on pallets. Lumber, 2X4s, would also be appreciated.

Asthmatics are advised not to venture outdoors into the Saharan blitz, since the particles are as fine and lethal as talcum dust, being packed with bacteria, viruses, fungi and, of course, fine sand that causes silicosis of the lungs.

Back to Roots

Thanks to post-colonial misguided aid and neocolonial dreams, Africa is descending into deeper eco-crisis as now expressed in sky-waves of sand fleeing the Continent. If Black Lives Matter, then African Americans should revisit their ancestral land, as I have done for decades in Asia, not as a savior (which is vanity) but to learn from over there and about one's own psychological conditioning, which needs radical readjustment in face of the huge troubles besetting the world. I guarantee that anyone who's worked in the less developed regions of the planet won't be coming back to the United States to riot and loot, a luxury for shiftless punks who are fixated on bling and other trifles like the third-rate poetry called hip-hop. Go over to Mali or Chad to toughen the spirit in the sand dunes and get a grip on life's essentials, and I bet you will curse yourself for wasting so much of your short existence in low-gear grumbling and spewing nonsense with the rest of the tribe of fools. While in your ancestral homeland, look at the map to visit the marvelous Kingdom of Wakanda, which I recommend as a wake-up call. Think of the bright side, that the Jews had to carve Israel out of the Ottoman empire and Arab-owned oases, whereas you already have a home in Africa, nearly 12 sq. miles or 20 percent of the world's land mass, so what are you complaining about? Marcus Garvey got it right about Back to Africa (B2A). Go.

Now that the African soil has shifted westward, the alternative to Rwanda is to leave the big cities of the north and move down South, where people of all races still eat fried chicken, corn bread, catfish, chitterlings, collard greens and crumbly biscuits, the heavenly diet of the accursed plantation, and do the hard work to pay for it. Or maybe all of that should be tossed into the dumpster to be rid of every last reminder of slavery, plantation life and early national development on the expanding colonialist frontier.

Self-pity gets nowhere

What's so hypocritical is how you BLMers are so ready to enjoy chic London, Paris and Madrid, while forgetting why the American settlers had to create a new country on the other side of the Atlantic and the European monarchies they had to fight to own their farmlands instead of being indentured servants, a euphemism for a Caucasian slave. Sure, the American Indians got a raw deal most the time, but there are now 326 reservations with nearly 2 million sq. miles of land, a lot more space than on national average among other American citizens.

Yes, 40 acres and a mule was only an intention, the reality being 40,000 freed slaves receiving 400,000 acres of prime farmland, 10 acres for each, which is still a lot of turf. Some of that farmer acreage was taken back by state legislatures long after the Civil War, but I have visited African-American catfish growers who've kept that land in their families since Reconstruction. There are whites who joined the Land Rush but received parcels of parched desert without a water source, losing whatever money they paid for Conestoga wagons. That's how frontiers develop, folks, with a lot of promise but no guarantees or insurance plan. My grandfather lost all his poker earnings when his 6,000 acre ranch in Mexico, paid for in gold eagle coins, was confiscated with not a single peso in compensation from Pancho Villa, and later watched his fishing boat seized by the federal government during the wartime internment, going bust twice after working harder than any slave. Did he complain about injustice, something he knew too well? Never. That's just a part of the risk he took upon himself by coming to American as a lowly crewman on a U.S. Merchant Marine sailing vessel. Starting out at his level of poverty, his grandchildren started out with zero assets or pocket money, each surviving and striving on her or his own will power. As for being confronted with racial stereotypes, try courtesy and politeness instead of attitude.

Stealing from the rich, robbing the poor

There are no guarantees and no bailouts except for rich insiders, just like everywhere else in the world. Life's unfair everywhere, so what else is new? BLM members are nobody special other than being in a racial class privileged with scholarships, business loans, preferential hiring, and all sorts of other benefits paid by other people, many of them is far worse financial condition. BLM's leadersip are cheaters, crooks and con artist, basically extortionists. You were never a slave, so nobody owes you a penny nor should you owe anyone, unless they saved your life and fortune. By any fair reckoning, you owe American society, that being debt of gratitude that's met with an attitude of loyalty to the flag and the anthem, for which our forebears sacrificed their lives and everything else for our shared values of freedom, justice and education.

It's high time for the BLM blowhards to move to their dream continent, where there's no race issue when there aren't a lot of white settlers left to diss or cut down with a machete. Zimbabwe is perfect for the black racist like the ones in BLM, since Islamic Somalia will put your three female founders behind extra-large veils. Pack up and leave to find a comfortable place where you can finally be rid of your own self-hatred.

If you were lucky enough to be here in the Deep South, you could simply reach down to the sidewalk and gather a few grains of sand, and realize that Africa has come calling on you to crawl out of that hole of despair and isolation. It's high time for me to walk to the corner store to pay for a bag of crunchy pork rinds to munch under the bandanna to take my mind off all the problems, since I've got more than enough of my own to ponder while watering the garden. Global warming theory is a fraud and so are the BLM complaints about slavery and police arrest of felons, make-believe grievances to defraud donors and con the media. If the law refused enforcement, then it's getting to be time to deal with this annoyance, as Malcolm X put it, by any means necessary.