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'This Huwyte Barbarian?'
Crackpot Mailbox:
Peepeepoopoo commented on Texas Retirement System? Jun-11-2020 3:12 PM UTC
What do you think of this huwyte barbarian?

I am online now, thanks to a Jamaican boxer who has put me up for the weekend in Cecil County, MD across from a Confederate flag and is just now reading C.S. Lewis' The Lion the, Witch and the Wardrobe to his two young children—so I see the reversal of barbarism and civilization roles in my own life and look forward to seeing it on a wider scale.
Now let me check out this link, Sir.
I have known many extremely violent criminals who have never been arrested, let alone convicted.
The man who wrote the article makes some clear observations, observations I have made many times.
However, concerning his wish for a military coup, he might keep in mind that the military may well side with the criminals who have been assigned to terrorize us as auxiliaries to whatever replaces the police, who have served their function. Keep in mind also that the military is less ivory than the general population. For an interesting treatment in fiction read Lucifer's Hammer by Jerry Pournelle and another 1970s science-fiction author.
The function of the police has traditionally been to punish me for successfully defending against the Bantus sent to drive me from the house I was trying to buy—and they did, the both together.
Last night, my Bantu host, who is my editor, director and employer—he also cooked some good eggs and hash for his humble hobo servant this morning—noted that most of his folk are either "down here, [made hand motion to knee] keeping it real cool, or, the next second, way up here [hand levelled over head] losing their mind."
He continued, "Most of the guys I've seen get into it with the cops were actually trying to smooth things over but fucked up, didn't listen, or got triggered over getting their ass whooped constantly when they were a kid. I know it is the traditional black parenting formula to beat the shit out of my kids. But I won't do it, because it messes their mind up, emasculates the boy before he can even become a man and sets them up for bad outcomes. My mother has criticized me for this, stating that my boy talks back too much. But as a man I draw a line between questioning me and defying me. There's not a question he can ask I can't answer."
It has been my observation that men of many races [four races] who I have worked closely with, who were traumatized through violence as a boy, tend to suffer from extreme irrationality in situations which invoke those childhood experiences, especially on the auditory level, where they tend to loose their hearing and not even know that they are "thinking" out loud and even yelling something that they are not intending to say. Virtually all urban Americans of color can be triggered to commit irrational and even suicidal violent acts through auditory stimulation alone. I attribute this, among my Ebony Masters, mostly to the extremely sadistic, closed-fisted beatings and torture routinely used by their mothers from infancy and up in private and in public.
This quick violence trigger has a flip side, that men raised under such mutant-matriarchal conditions tend to break and run and back down at the slightest bit of combat friction and are only really good for terrorizing sissies and women, such as current Ivory America.
The military and federal police will be required to keep the hardcore palefaces who now remain in rural America in their place, or to remove them into six feet of vertical space.
Oliver and I also noted that the Africans we know do not beat their kids, but most of the Jamaicans and African Americans, and all of the women, do.
We are still living under the legacy of the brutal British Plantation system in which every child was beaten by his parent or guardian, every slave by his master and every soldier and sailor at the command of is officer, to a norm of 30-40 lashes a week. That tradition remains alive and well among the people who were assigned to harry me and mine from my hometown, with over 60 members of my family, on both sides, every one of us, with me the final rearguard, driven from the place of our birth through mostly incidental contact with thugs who had been beaten at least once a week since age two and then kicked out of the house and sent out to get what they need from us.
I am really enjoying the spreading of this largesse among the more privileged members of my kind, the soft ghosts who ran and left me behind.
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