“… but a flawed instrument is all the more dispensable should it need to be discarded after use.”

-6, The Chamber of Sphinxes, page 107

…

The year I started high school, they shut down Joliet East, and Joliet Central was crowded as it was, so they bussed all the Eastsiders to Joliet West. They [the Eastsiders] realized that the white kids were scared of them so they terrorized them. It was definitely a culture shock for me. The junior high I went to I think had two black kids. I didn’t think of them any differently than anybody else—they were fine.

The Eastsiders were loud and obnoxious for sure. The girls would get in fights in the hallway and there would be hair all over the floor from them pulling each other’s hair out. I went to a basketball game and this guy Brice I knew pointed out people that had guns on them.

A couple years into it, my best friend Dwayne, his sister and my sister were the same age and they both had blonde hair and blue eyes and they were both harassed and told that they were racist if they didn’t go out with black guys. I remember one time that someone was harassing Dawn, Dwayn’e sister, and I went running to go help out on the other side of the school. By the time I got there nothing was happening. Some guy was grabbing her and harassing her. My sister was harassed at times in a similar fashion and we went looking for the guys that did it. She didn’t point out who it was. Maybe she couldn’t tell the difference?

One time in gym class during hockey Dwayne checked this guy who was a total asshole. He was full adult size in high school, way bigger than everybody and would bully people. Dwayne got his revenge in hockey because he was a good skater and checked him and said, “Fuck you niցցer.”

We were walking before school started and that guy came up and jumped Dwayne from behind even though here were three of us walking together. I grabbed the guy from behind, and right as I did I looked to my left and there was a security guard running towards. They weren’t armed security guards, not cops.

This kid I was almost friendly with, he was a black kid, he was the only one I actually got in fights with in school. But we were friends. His name was Demetrius.

So Dwayne and a couple kids that I knew took a bus to Joliet Central for their advanced autoshop class because they didn’t have the facilities at West. They would take a bus to and from Central. Dwayne was tall, like six two and weighed about a hundred and forty five pounds. So Dwayne and another white kid were on the bus and all the other kids on the bus were black and they started fucking with them, taking their backpacks, smacking them around. These were full-on regular school buses, not like a transit bus. It was the traditional yellow school bus and our busses were disgusting because it was the jerry curl era and the black kids would lean thier heads against the windows and they would be covered with slime—it was like trying to look out of a jar of Vasilene.

Dwayne was saying that they took a book or two and he didn’t know how he was going to replace them. He told us what happened: me and some friends, Rich, was one of them. The class that Dwayne was in there were other kids from the auto shop who were allowed to drive an didn’t take the bus. The next day, a bunch of us, who didn’t even belong on that bus got on that bus and waited for the black kids to get on. They would not board the bus. They saw that we were waiting for them and they wouldn’t get on the bus and security came and brought us all to the dean’s office. Dwayne was there.

We said what happened and I don’t recall getting in trouble or anything. Dwayne went right back on that bus the next day and they [black kids] didn’t do anything after that. They did not fuck with him. I was enraged that day.

My friend Donnie had a party on the west side at his parents. We were, I think the senior year of high school, towards the end, towards the summer. All of us were hanging out before the party a couple car loads of my friends. One of my friends had afake I.D. so we went to get served and buy beer for the party. We used to drink old Style, because my friend’s dad always had old Style. Our slogan was “Oh yes, O.S.” My friend’s dad always had a case behind the seat of his truck and he said, “I don’t care if you guys take it, just leave the money so I can buy another one.”

Dwayne went straight to Don’s house. When we pulled up, Dwayne was in his truck and I thought maybe he couldn’t find a place to park. I went up to talk to him and he said, “Look,” and he showed his front tooth was out, one of them. He said, “That fuckin’ niցցer is here and he sucker punched me.”

I asked him what happened and he said that he was walking up the driveway to don’s house and the guy tapped him on the back of the shoulder and he turned around as one does and he got punched right in the face. The black guy was probably 6’ 3” and two-fifteen, two-twenty. So Dwayne is like 145—that is close to eighty pounds. I was five-ten and close to two-hundred pounds. I made up to two hundred by the end of my senior year in high school.

He said they started wrestling and Dwayne had got him rolled over and on top and Dwayne was grabbing his head and slamming it on the asphalt driveway. Then people that I thought were our friends dragged him off of the guy and the guy and his crew went in the house.

[For the legion of guilty ghosts of a political and socially scientific mind who have declared endlessly that men of West African ancestry are unbeatable physical combatants while ignoring all combat sports and military after action evidence, I recall here that it took the 2,400 strong Baltimore City Police Force to prevent myself and a handful of other crackers from defending ourselves against 200,000 hoodrats. Above, a 145 pound man is ambushed by a heavyweight who must be rescued form the defensive action by a mob. Can we stop worshiping Ye Hi Gawds yet?]

So, when I heard this, I fucking ran into the house and opened the door and there was a lot of people in the house and I yelled, “Where is that fucking niցցer?!”

They told me that he went out the back door. Then, a bunch of people got in my face and tried yelling at me about it—white people. [The N-word more of a crime than the N-sword.] I remember shoving them and telling them to fuck off and if they wanted to fight lets do it. Afterwards people told me that him and his crew, who I never saw, ran out the back while I was arguing with these people. These were all people who lived in our neighborhood. Donnie was my friend. These were people that lived around him and in my grade that thought it was smart to get in my face. They didn’t do shit, just yelling for me to calm down. I was shaking with rage.

I don’t know the story of how they went in, how they ran out. I just know I went off the handle. I never saw him [the black guy] again, not in school or anything. After that I remember riding the bus and some freshman I didn’t know came up to me and start asking me about the party, saying, “You’re the guy.” It was weird, that other people I didn’t know would ask me this.

[Can we understand now how hundreds have in the past conquered and ruled millions before the Financial Police State cloaked us all in its folded wings of night?]

Dwayne was best man at my wedding. We are still in touch. He became a diesel mechanic and moved to Florida.