Just
the title terrifies and angers, does it not? Well, try not to run off like a
coward. Save me the foaming at the mouth and the seething. None of those
reactions are new to me. I am not a racist. I may be one of the few Caucasians
who is not a racist. I feel the need to explain because the title alone could
have a gaggle of nitwits barking stupidities at me. The ones are think I will
anger most with this are the politically correct whites. Well, good. You
dingbats are patronizing liars anyway. So get mad. As I said, I am not racist.
I honestly do not care if you speak Klingon and have polka-dots on your skin.
This article is not even about my views at the end of the day it is about the
country and its collective views, which at this point, make me nauseous. The
ammonia stench of fear is cloying the atmosphere, and most of it comes from
wealthy white people, who I will from now on refer to as “Whitey” and he hates
Caucasians more than any other group.
OK.
So why? There are a number of possible answers. First of all, blacks, or
African Americans, or Americans of African descent—whatever—would likely answer
“Well, you deserve it, ghost-face! Four hundred years!” Really? I,
specifically, deserve it? What did I do? Nothing. I’m only in my thirties. I do
not even know what slavery looks like unless I see it on television. However,
political correctness has progressed to the point where Whitey will lay his
head against the bloody block of the guillotine and beg the ethnic to cut his
head off, just to show “sincerity.”
Like
Hell.
Whitey
just wants your vote.
But
still one like me is bombarded with these clichés meant to dumb one down, for
example, that all whites talk like “Oh, golly gee whillikers!” in a
high-pitched voice. That’s a load of bunk. It is also a load of bunk that
whites like me get any breaks from the cops. I have had my flesh skewered on
more than one occasion by police, and skin color be damned. I have slept on the
same stone in the same orange jumpsuit next to creeds of all hue. I know they
give prisoners that silly blue blanket that one must hold down with their toes
if they want it to cover their shoulders. I have also worn the bruises and
picked the glass out of my skin weeks later.
Also,
just so you all know—Whitey still runs everything. I mean that, everything.
Your hip-hop record labels. Your entrance into the country. Your ability to get
hired at a job before someone like me. The Electoral College. You think your
vote counts? Nope. I said it before and I’ll say it again, the EC is full of
Whiteys. Yes, they are white, and yes, they have penises. All of you are being
taken for a ride and I’m the one sitting in the back shaking his head, knowing
that even President Obama is in Whitey’s pocket. For easy evidence, just listen
to how much he sounds like Montel Williams and uses the word ‘people’ with
horrid redundancy.
We’re
getting closer to the point.
We
hear a lot of angry rednecks howling about how the Mexicans have taken their
jobs. These are the unskilled jobs, landscaping, general labor, flipping
burgers, and the like. The jobs the Brat President claimed “Americans don’t
want.” The Brat President with an IQ of 25 that the rednecks voted into office
just because an advisor told said Brat to make sure that he purported himself
to be Christian. The Brat the rednecks cast their vote for so he could be
placed into office by some group of Vogons who came up with the idea of
“Hanging CHADs.” He kicked open the floodgates. The next time one of you
backwoods moonshine distillers barks about how “dey terk er jerbs!” keep this
in mind. Why should not the influx of slave labor, illegal aliens that will
work seventy hours a week and take home only two-hundred and fifty dollars
while selling you cocaine to cover the tip makeup get hired by Whitey? Seems
like the ones behind the scenes, the ones Brat-Boy chose as advisors, made the
right decision, at least for Whitey.
And
also, rednecks…don’t you know your purpose isn’t to work a job but to go
overseas and kill brown people for oil profits? Of course you do. “Amer-CA!
Freedom ain’t free!” Now there’s an oxymoron if I ever heard one. Note the word
‘moron’ in that term. When the Brat spoke of jobs that “Americans don’t want”
he was not referring to his civilian constituents. He referred only to the
members of his soft-handed, never-worked-a-day-in-their-life-but-have-fat-cash
constituents. You rednecks, on the other hand, just like me, are supposed to
get patriotic and fly flags and go kill brown people for Halliburton while
believing the spin that you’re doing your patriotic duty.
What
a joke.
And
Whitey has the Mexicans in his pocket too. “Oh sure, you can come here. Just
either sign up for the military (the Irish know that game) or go to college
where you’ll surely fail due to not knowing English and thus, join the
military!” Oh, if you all only knew how clever Whitey is. You think you’ve
earned your way to freedom but Whitey still owns your soul and he always will.
And
me Robert Tannahill, am I Whitey?
No.
Grown Whitey is Slick More-Yen or Gold Man in Slacks. Young Whitey is a
privileged, suit-wearing college student majoring in business. Don’t be an
artist, a philosopher, an illegal, and do not be black. But worse, do not be
trailer trash with a pen. Whitey hates me more than he can ever hate any ethnic
because I represent his greatest fear—I’m a well-educated angry piece of
trailer trash who knows Whitey for what he is and seeks to bring him down. When
the ethnics, sorry, but when you all try to bring them down they just use their
police to beat you into submission and salve your wounds with bread and
circuses. That is why you get Section Eight housing and Car Vouchers and Food
Vouchers and can buy your Drivers’ License. I cannot do that.
I
was supposed to be Whitey. Essentially I’m a race traitor because instead of
bowing to those I hate, I fight. I’d rather take up for my polka-dotted friends
than Whitey. I am Popeye with a pen and a gun to my head and a wide open eye
that sees far. What I wait for is the day Whitey comes along and plunges a nail
into my head so he can up the ethnic welfare and collapse the economy in order
to create the Mark of the Beast and Globalize all trade. At that point Whitey
will be able to shut you off.
Dubious?
I think not. Remember…in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. To wit:
don’t hate me. I’m worse off than you. Hate Whitey. Make redneck white trash
friends. We are the ones being water-boarded by the Newt Gingriches and Mitt
Romneys of the world. Whitey cannot manipulate us and Whitey will not try.
After all, the torn-jeans, broken shoes, flooded-trailer white people, the salt
of the earth, we’re anathema to Whitey for we represent what may have happened
to Whitey if he had ever bothered to make the accident of thinking for himself.
We are the new Gilgamesh fighting against Scheherazade-types who would paint
the world as they see fit and use whoever they can to move the brush.
America
hates Caucasians because America, the great melting pot, thinks Caucasians are
all the same while at the same time disdaining Caucasians for thinking those of
ethnic descent are all the same. Newsflash: Caucasians are not all the same.
And while Whitey feeds you vouchers and welfare and patronizes you with his
commercials that make sure all groups are included he is also molding your
thinking into a slave mentality. I do not blame anyone who goes with it. People
swimming against the tide tend to drown.
And
if they do not drown, there is always a cop willing to hold their head under
until they do. I, and those such as me, may be Caucasians, but we are not
Whitey. We are his nightmare. Think of that the next time you disdain one of
us. Pay special attention to our clothes and what we drive. Chances are, what
you own trumps what we own. And Whitey laughs. Who would not laugh if they had
the whole world in their hands?
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