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Thanks for these and your other posts, H.
Always much to investigate and consider with your contributions.

I consider the Hip Hop and Rap communities grasping of Masonic and secret society lingo to just be another marketing ploy to extend a genre of music and social conditioning whose time has already expired.
The white-anglo and jewish interests at the top of the pyramid are not only into eugenics but are extremely racist.
Which could only translate into the fact than anything the "porch monkeys" may be writing or singing about has no real clout.
And any black masonic halls or members are just "tokens".
So I don't take them seriously in my investigations of these groups. But they do have a great influence over the people and the youth...no doubt about it.

Here, in Norway, I see middle-school aged kids dressed and walking around emulating rap figures and videos. They think the thug image is the one to project. Baggy clothes and ape-like postures. It is quite funny to see in a nation of white people with no American black culture at all to be emulating only that which they have been fed by the media. Quite a difference from my own experience having grown up in a black neighborhood and identifying with it up close and personal...and knowing why you may have to walk like a gorilla down the street to psychologically intimidate others or have your head smashed in.
These white boys here just don't have a clue and would be eaten alive in any real situation back home in the U.S. hoods.

Since I did not walk like a primate, being a white kid in a black neighborhood, I had to improvise using the mind. I was one of the few kids to wear camo and openly carry a large knife on my belt. I would walk around my neighborhood and be seen with my airguns at age ten to twelve. So that all potential troublemakers were aware that white boy was armed and not afraid to pump a BB into someone's eye if they fucked with me or my shit. My BB gun rifle was intimidating with a custom camo pattern I sprayed it with and a cheap Kmart rifle scope for twenty bucks and a sling. But I was dead accurate with that thing. I could be seen in my front yard with two other white boys in the neighborhood training with my uncle who was in the military and spent time in southeast Asia. Hand to hand, knife and weapons sparring was enough to spread the word amongst the homeys that "bad-ass white boy down the street" was not to be fooled with.

One day, and older black kid defied that wisdom and crossed the line with an unprovoked and unjustified act of random violence against myself. He fast pitched a mango fruit into my back as I was riding my bike slowly down the street. The retaliation was swift and severe. Word spread. War did not break out...but the fear instilled in the darker populace kept them at bay and earned respect. I'll never forget the day that homey got ambushed by three white boys in triangulation fire with myself from an elevated position as he stepped out of his crib and was pinned down against some walls in his apartment complex. With my two cohorts keeping him from going anywhere I then slid down my tree and made my way in for close quarters fun. I wanted the message to be up close and personal. I walked up to him and saw those eyes of his wide like silver dollars. I then drew my simulated .357 CO2 pellet revolver and plugged that monkey with six Beeman wadcutter lead pellets. These don't bounce off and his momma probably had to dig with tweezers later that evening.
At ten years old, I was ready to be a honed combat killer.

When crack hit the neighborhoods it was like Fallujah, fortunately we then moved to a middle class white neighborhood as the school I was about to enter was having problems with stabbings and gang violence and a white kid just wasn't safe...so we relocated just for my own safety in a different school. I was then able to relax a bit.

What I find funny is that someone would read this post and think I was a racist because of the terms I use or my actions. But I can tell you I am not a racist, if fact, in this re-telling of my history the racism was brought to me. As I was naive to it and a severe minority in the situation.
Until that first day my education began and some big black kid pushed me against the wall, stuck his finger in my face and asked, "W'at u gon' doo 'bout it crackah' ass white boy?"