[written 10/23/19]

On the bus trips I made in the rain today, the same trend holds, a new trend, that has for the past week:

-1. Ebon bus drivers refuse to acknowledge or answer palefaces. They will not answer me or look at me when I ask them simple, direct sentences, though they will speak to other ebons. This is new, was not a normal feature of life in Baltimore for the 38 years I worked here.

-2. Ebony bus drivers also refrain from answering customer service questions, but do scream at you if you are not ebon or ebony—this includes Latinos.

-3. The single ivory bus driver was helpful and professional.

I am carrying an illegal weapon, have gone full “fuck it” and know that if I get attacked I will end up going suicide by cop immediately after dispatching my foes. I’m just in too poor a health and too sick to care about survival. I just don’t want to go out under a rain of sneaker soles. I am exiting Baltimore very soon—it’s just too nasty. I’m back to my 1990s mode of operation, to slink, march or skulk aggressively, not dressing in a jacket in the rain but holding it like a cloak so it can be used to blind the foe while I gut them. I sit on the back of the bus where the criminals and wannabe thugs sprawl and rap, and they shut the fuck up when I sit down in their midst—it must be the shaven head and the eye patch that suddenly casts a spell of serenity over them. Everybody front of the back door is a civilian so I make sure not to be associated with them. I am the only paleface on a total of 12 buses taken. Three men who could have kicked my ass—if I had been stupid enough to fist fight with them—and as many women who should be on their knees right now holding wine goblets and viand vessels for my use, glanced at me with absurd levels of fear—an old broken dude—a runt even—trekking across town to visit a 4-year-old girl with no daddy and no granddaddy, a girl that cried when I put on my backpack and tried to bar the door…and these people who have driven my entre macro-racial category of ape out of town, are terrified of me simply because I obviously do not give a damn, with cargo shorts 4-sizes too big over jeans two-sizes too big…

When I got off the bus in the driving rain today and made to walk through the mall parking lot, the two security vehicles, double previous manpower, shadowed me and blocked me, following me and preventing me from cutting through the lot but made me stay out in the perimeter drive lane where I was splashed by motorists zooming by as I took the long way around. I was being profiled, as I have been for 40 years of life in which 29 public PIGs and now these two private PIGs and numerous security guards have seen me as a great threat and harassed me. This is only something that happens when I walk confident in my ability to repel hoodrats. While injured, potbellied and limping on a cane, PIGs never noticed me.

This brings me to the new paradigm and how to assess it. People think I jest when I name African Americas as the new master race. When one considers abject social terror of an element of the Faith, understanding that Guilt is the European American Faith, one should seek clarity of taboo.

For instance, the most taboo word in the English language used to be “cunt”.

The most taboo word is now “n——-” a word so taboo that if I type it from my own mind rather than simply quoting it was said by another, I could be lynched, most certainly by people who describe themselves as “white” and assume the same degeneracy of me.

What does it mean, when to name something brings down hell, especially when those the word describes name themselves that regularly even incessantly?

First of all, there is nothing intrinsically offence about the N-word. It derives, most likely from negger, which was Dutch for “black” and was spread by non-Christian Dutch slave traders as a simple descriptive, of the same inaccurate and conveniently polarizing type as the racially negating term “white.”

Negro, now a minor taboo form, simply means “black” as does “negra” and the word of DOOM! These archaic terms all meant “black,” the same inaccurate polarizing term for the many negated and blended races of West Africa that now finds favor with these folk. Yet to speak their self-spoken name, to call them black—and this two will be made taboo I the lifespan of those younger men reading this—is regarded as ample cause for them to kill you, to burn your city. A friend of mine, a self-described “black man” was horrified to tears over the 2015 Baltimore Riots. Yet, a year later, after he heard a claim that a white person attending a baseball game in Downtown Baltimore muttered the “N-word” he declared the destruction of his city justified.

Recently, outside of Atlanta, Georgia, a young paleface was attacked by seven people of varied hue and when he defended himself with a knife one of his attackers claimed he had said the “N-word,” and he now faces hate-crime charges, which is the same as facing an inquisition in medieval Christendom.

This brings me to mind, how many other words are currently hyphenated to avoid bringing down wrath upon the speaker?

There is only one.

There lives among us, in every nation, I think, the dispersed members of a great and ancient people, a people who have, perhaps, been the target of more concerted attempts to wipe them out than any other single folk. This storied folk revere a great and ancient God—not nearly the eldest deity of the ancient cosmos, but the one with the most staying power.

I have read the books dedicated to the doings and saying and rulings of this god many times, and he is, above all, a god of wrath, a jealous god who behaved more like a gangster than a patriarch, even testing his foremost servant to determine if he would slay his own son on command. Accordingly, though I suppose they will all deny it, as will the children of the many-faceted heresy that recognizes this same god as supreme, these folk have abided some interesting traditions centered around the fact that one does not name a malefic force unless he wishes it brought down on his head.

Thus, there are only two beings so taboo on this earth, where my language is spoken, which are so feared and so prone to wrath, that their direct reference must not be made. These Gods, for they can be nothing else if the fear of their wrath freezes millions with dread of naming them, are:

“G—” in heaven, and

“N——-” on earth.

Such was the astounding correlation of my consciousness which occurred in the driving rain today as I walked out of a dying city, expiring under the weight of its own unnamable God.