There is light rain over Metro Atlanta but the view from suburbia is White.
Rain weathered Aryan bungalows with sloping roofs and mahogany doors, White stately pillars (ionic), White picket fences, white "Sports Utility Vehicles" and lots and lots of angel food cake White folks. This is Midtown Atlanta, Virginia-Highland to be precise, what else did I expect? This is Whitey's place, so fall with the dice!
I have not lived in a community this Whitehole since I was a kid on Menlove Avenue in Liverpool. There are no Black families on Wisteria Lane (my road) but there is one Black family in the sleepy village of Stepford. I can't really call them African-American because they might well be Africans real or West Indians who hate Africans (Atlanta is international, you see).
Class and racial divisions are alive and kicking. You see a lot of African-American men down and out in Metro Atlanta. They are like refugees in their own country, hunter-gatherers living off garbage, men with faces full of hardship and misery, with nowhere to go and no one to love. But in the marketplace of modern American society the walking dead are throwaways, and surplus to requirements.
And madness is reality for homeless African-American men caught in the poverty trap. I saw one chap today, wrapped up in a blue plastic sheet, stumbling up and down the Atlanta Beltline mumbling to himself, "The world is a brothel and we are all prostitutes. You're a prostitute, I'm a prostitute, we're all prostitutes!"
I almost clapped him on the back.
America is a society informed and entertained by violence. Even if you were to avoid all of the violent films, TV shows and computer games, you cannot escape violence on the news. High profile shootings and armed nutters have dominated the headlines, on and off, ever since we arrived in the USA.
CIA "mind control." Probably invented by a Mother in Law