At 2:15 today, having completed Hunting Whitey, I decided to have a pre-publication party—down to the Pakistani liquor-store/outpost I go, for my six-pack, three of which I intend to scandalously imbibe in this chair.

Junior High Schools student 12, 13 and 14 years-old, were laying on the sidewalk smoking blunts, sitting on corners drinking booze, huddled in sinister rap sessions, flashing gang signs, scowling at the very few adults.

I am typed by a group of five and deemed yet too spry to waylay and they let me pass.

On the way home, after noticing that anti-robbery and looting precautions have been increased at the liquor store and that another business—a podiatry clinic, I think—has closed down, I spot a mob of 10 Dindu youth from 70-400 pounds from 4 feet to six feet. The big ones are unarmed. The medium sized ones have stones, bricks and bottles, the small four foot sticks, the tiny carry poles. They beat on the side of the Health Department Building.

A cop in a paddy wagon pulls over and has a 30-second discussion with them from the drive lane. I do not know what is said, but they do not alter their behavior or disarm and he drives away as they cavort and jeer.

Please, imagine yourself as a fatherless, 13-year-old with idiot level intelligence. You have never read a book. No adult ahs ever taught you anything. What you know you learned the hard way. Last year your older brother and his friends defeated the 8th largest police department in the nation in open battle.

The Mayor [who looks like your mamma] and the President [who likes like the man your mamma wished she had] then justified this victory and similar ones across the country.

Since last year your uncle and his crew have been bringing home bank: wallet, after whitey wallet, smartphone after white smartphone, as they cruise the city and county hunting Whitey and exacting revenge for what Whitey did to Great Grandma’s man.

Your brother and his crew are banking white faɡɡots every week, getting enough money to buy booze for the weekend.

The cops are not allowed to touch you.

Adults are not allowed to touch you.

If you get arrested for jacking up people you are out on the street the next day.

This city has been given to you by those who used to protect it for the parents of those weak-ass white kids who won’t fight back when you take their shit.

Why wouldn’t you take it?

You know what, when I was 13, I had a father, but I knew what he believed in was a lie, because it did not take into account taking from and doing to. He believed in a fantasy land of giving and doing for, where no one takes. His world was a lie and is thankfully dead. We live in the real world again, the world of taking and doing to. If I were 13 now, father or not, I think I’d be out there taking and doing to.

Why not?

Why not take what has been surrendered?

What conqueror would not?

And what boy who has scared away men with his fist and defeated uniformed defenders of the enemy stronghold with stones, what such person would not believe he was a conqueror, would not act according to the ageless purview of the conqueror?

And what girl would not wish to be on the arm of the conqueror?

The pretty, 14-year-old, paleface girl I saw across the street from my room yesterday afternoon, holding hands with a 14 year-old-conqueror and smoking the dope that will earn him the privilege of fathering the next generation in the bellies of the daughters of the defeated, has made her mating choice. The price of her womb is nothing more than the drug that will help her forget that her parents, and their parents, all lied to her, raised her to prepare for life in a world that was dead when she got there.

Why shouldn’t this girl do what the women of previously surrendered cities have done?

Dindustan is here to stay, but the Hunt for Whitey is just gearing up.