Stupidity teaches you to hate people you don’t know and to take credit for accomplishments you had no part in whatsoever.
To counter the previous nightmares, I would like to leave you with a great song that Kate Smith could never sing.
Eleanora Fagan, better known as Billie Holiday, was an American jazz singer with a career spanning nearly thirty years. This is her song about blacks.
Strange Fruit Lyrics
from album: At Jazz At The Philharmonic (1954)
Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.