The Saint Patrick's Day Mugging

Yesterday, April 11th 2012, my roommate showed me an online video of a white tourist being attacked, robbed and stripped naked by a pack of young black adults. This group included females, and two of them filmed and uploaded their own crime. It took almost a month for this to hit the news, and there have been cries over a racial double standard in the press. The salient point for me is that all of the commentary I heard by blacks and whites blamed the white tourist for being in a 'black' or 'bad' neighborhood. This erroneous claim is the focus of this piece. If you want the low down on racism in America [at least my slice of it] you will have to wait until summer and the feature article The Lesser Angels of our Nature.

The criticisms of this crime victim range from: 'being in the wrong place at the wrong time'; 'deserving the Darwin award for being in that neighborhood'; and for 'wandering into a black neighborhood'. These statements are not accurate. The attack happened at the Aquarium, the premier tourist attraction in Baltimore's non-residential Inner Harbor. He was in no one's neighborhood. So, even for those inclined to believe that any one wandering into a neighborhood inhabited by people of another race deserves to be beaten, robbed and humiliated, this man was not in any such clearly defined and sanctioned predation zone.

Numerous racially motivated pack attacks on white males and females have been perpetrated by black youths at the Inner Harbor and I have documented and even witnessed some of them. These, however, have been covered up by Law Enforcement, as the Mayor's Office does not want bad publicity about the Inner Harbor keeping tourists away. I have interviewed business owners and crime victims who cannot even convince police officers to fill out reports for black-on-white violence. It is also a hard sell to the State's Attorney to prosecute a black for a crime against a white in Baltimore. This has to do with the jury selection process.

For this reason I believe the Baltimore City Police Department has intentionally understaffed tourist locations to give the appearance of tranquility. Believe me, someone on the BPD decided not to have a presence at the Aquarium on Saint Patrick's Day night. So, if you are a young black person and you want to experience the thrill of ganging up on a witless and fairly affluent white person, why would you go to South Baltimore and risk running into some hardcore White Trashian who has fist fights with his three toothless brothers for fun? Or why risk hunting in Canton where you might be stabbed by twenty Mexican construction workers? I would recommend you hunt soft out-of-town white bread while the City Cops enjoy the peep shows at the Big Top three blocks away.

Geographical Note

• The Inner Harbor is basically the city center backed up against the water.
• Most of the Harbor Front is backed up by West Baltimore and North Baltimore, which are sprawling black ghettos.
• South Baltimore is a white enclave situated on a raised peninsula that touches one end of the crescent-shaped harbor.
• East Baltimore is ethnic, white and black and occupies the other end of the crescent across the harbor from South Baltimore, and consists of Fell's Point, Canton, Highland Town and Greek Town. This abuts on Southeast Baltimore, the most murderous black enclave, where the BPD spends a lot of resources securing the area for John's Hopkins Hospital.
• Note: I don't want to be too hard on the BPD. They are forced by the feds and the liberals to spend most of their resources fighting the drug war. Their secondary mission is protecting businesses and backing up private security, which they are really good at. Protection of the residents of and visitor's to the inaptly named 'Charm City' falls a distant third.
• Hence the Inner Harbor is a well-stocked hunting preserve if you like your prey human, and soft, and you plan on abiding by catch-and-release ethics. Just think of the BPD as game wardens. If you don't kill anyone they just tell you to leave, unless it was your wife or girlfriend you beat down. In that case you might have to spend the weekend in jail before the commissioner lets you go home to straighten her out. Most killing is done within the various enclaves, which includes the almost suburban looking ghetto of Northeast Baltimore. Here you can still find enough unarmed indigenous white pedestrians to satisfy the Hemingway in you.

The Genocidal Ape

Make no mistake this was not a 'black thing'. This was a 'human thing'. The drunken tourist was attacked because he was socially isolated, not because he was white. Now, he was socially isolated because he was white. But this does not reflect hatred. It reflects the risk-limiting decision making of those who preyed upon him. In the video, at least one of the attackers called the white man a 'nigger' without a slanderous tone, and no one berated him for being white. They attacked him because they could.

One attacker said, 'Yo, only in Boldimore yo!' This reflects a common theme among black thrill attackers and gangsters in Baltimore; pride in the fearful reputation of their hometown, [See Harm City header.] If you are from Baltimore and you venture outside of it via the highways or the internet your claim to fame is that you live where Homicide and The Wire were filmed. In this light the Saint Patrick's Day Mugging begins looking like a ghetto version of a local Chamber of Commerce rally.

What we are looking at here is a type of postmodern tribalism. The same form of pack-oriented aggression that propelled our simian ancestors out of the rainforest and onto the grasslands to challenge the lions and hyenas for predation rights.

There was a blogger I saw who was a black racist and actually made a whole lot more sense than the white libertarian blogger also commenting on the attack. He pointed out that he did not appreciate people that looked like him acting like animals. I only have one problem with the man's statement. He suggests we are not animals, when we clearly are.

Aristotle, the father of logic and zoology noted that humans are animals, and every scientist since has agreed. We are mammals of the primate type; specifically ground-dwelling great apes. One of the first things our distant ancestors did when they climbed down out of the trees was stone a troop of baboons to death, and they didn't even clean up the rocks when they were done. Now that sounds like Southeast Baltimore to me!

Our greatest men of every race have each presided over multiple genocides: Alexander the Great; Genghis Khan; Shaka Zulu; and whoever the Iroquois war-chiefs were who wiped out the Erie and Susquehannock and the various unidentifiable Algonquin tribes of Pennsylvania. It is what we do. Only four of every 100 years is free of major military conflict. Humans form groups and then attack smaller or less well prepared groups. Looking back, we call it history.

The Gorilla Wall

What can I say? I'll take every opportunity to stick with a salient metaphor. Just to put the anonymous-dude-in-the-green-shirt's experience in perspective, let me relate the following incident from February...

Paul, a janitor at a Baltimore supermarket was cleaning up out back behind the 'gorilla wall'. No fooling, that's what they call them. They were developed for D.C. area supermarkets where gangbangers were shooting receivers and drivers offloading PM deliveries. I do not know if these very high offset walls were named for the Gorilla Family gang or after the big wall the natives built to keep King Kong out of their village in the movies. The wall protects the clerks who unload the trucks at night from being shot by the local gangbangers. Paul is a small black guy, and was detailed to sweep the area during 'safe' daylight hours. Just as the white guy above had been socially isolated, Paul was physically isolated, being alone behind the store. The Sun God would look uncaringly down on poor Paul as cruel Fate wrote him into her remorseless story.

Two black men and two black women, who had been ejected from the store by the uniformed police officer on duty for aggressive behavior, saw Paul as they were leaving and took out their rage on him. Paul was beaten far worse than the white guy at the Aquarium, and didn't even think it was a big deal, because black people in Baltimore do this to each other all of the time! In fact, I could make the case that the white man attacked at the Aquarium is now an honorary African American, thanks to the liberally inclusive actions of his compassionate attackers. One of his attackers even called him 'nigger'!

Another factor that is overlooked here is the fact these attacks were not nearly as serious as they could have been. Paul and Saint Patrick [we have to call him something shorter than 'the drunk white tourist at the Aquarium'] were downed on concrete and could have easily been stomped to death in a minute or two. These attacks are done for thrills and to build group cohesion. This is first and foremost a bonding experience for the attackers. I would now like to address the pack-attack phenomena in a white-on-white context. Before I go on record with the following statement I must, in good conscience, break for a disclaimer.

Hyperbolic Disclaimer

The author of the inflammatory statement below, while he claims to possess empirical evidence to back up his hyperbolic claim, had a black uncle, is a known race-trader and race-mixer who cohabitated with a Negress for seven years, and was targeted for assassination in 1991 by a righteous platform member of BASH [Baltimore Area Skin Heads] for firing Arуans and hiring blacks as replacements. Banishment and death to the Arуan traitor!

Those Nasty White Apes

Eight of the ten most vicious pack attacks I have documented were white-on-white or white-on-black. Overall interracial crimes seem to be less violent and less lethal than same race crimes. Black-on-black actions account for most Baltimore murders. White-on-white actions account for most rapes, stompings, bat beatings, and wife beatings. Really, if I had a choice of defending against a five-man black gang set or five members of the 4th Reich I'd fight the black dudes. Also by noting that people of European decent perfected the arts of industrial and postindustrial warfare, and conquered nearly the entire globe, I would not be in danger of disagreeing with any prominent military historian.

Check out the upcoming Logic of Force [Paladin, print] and When You're Food [Harm City, PDF] books for more on these uplifting facts.

Mixed Race Context

Last night, when I was crossing a secondary street on a side street, I stopped to let the oncoming economy car pass. The car rolled up to the stop sign from my left, and stopped just in front of me so I would have to walk around the front end. This is really odd on that street at night, where heedless speeding is the norm and that particular stop sign is usually ignored. I looked up and saw two BUYs [Black Urban Youths, see Officer ManFriendly] in the car. I elected not to step out because young men have previously had sport with me in this very situation by attempting to clip my ankles as I crossed. So I waited.

The passenger then rolled down the window and the driver said, "Yo what you want yo?"

I said nothing and declined eye-contact as I palmed the razor in my coat pocket with my right hand, which was already pocketed. The passenger then unlatched his door so it was ready to push open and the driver said, "Come'ere yo."

I looked straight ahead past them and began visualizing a stiff arm to the passenger's forehead as I sliced upon his neck from ear to Adam's apple. I thought about this a few times, imagining the sound his trachea was going to make when I pushed through it like it was a cardboard banana box.

One of them then said something else, but I did not hear it clearly as I was enjoying the sound of the evening breeze rustling through the new leaves on the oak behind me. Just when I was feeling real good about opening that boy up on that cool spring night they pulled off.

I know from many years of hard experience that to have hesitated, shown fear, shown anger, or engaged them in conversation would have been tantamount to running from a dog. They either wanted to sell me drugs, rob me at gunpoint [very unlikely from a car but not unknown] or pick a fight. I wasn't having any of the above.

However, if I had been a tourist wooed to Baltimore by some well-placed ad, and was drunk enough to believe that human beings are naturally good, then I might have smiled as I tried to be their friend, with predictable results that may even have been worthy of uploading...

...Last Friday night, April 6th, from between 7:15 PM and 9:35 PM I waited for the 7:30 bus out into the county. I had hurried outside without checking the weather and was underdressed, shivering by the time the bus finally came. I got a seat next to a guy about my size. This is a practical concern. Most bus patrons are so big that it is hard to find a buddy whose butt only covers half of the double seat. As usual I was the only white face on the bus.

Then, at the next major stop a big thick young White Trashian boarded and started griping at the driver for being late, even though this driver had been pulled from another line to cover a callout. When the driver started getting hot Affirmative White Trashian snarled, "Whateva ma brutha!"

This was a calculated racial insult. The term 'Brutha' is used by black males to affirm a bond between each other and at the same time deny the shared humanity of any white men within earshot. By turning this ubiquitous and little understood bonding-alienation term on its head our intrepid White Trashian was literally throwing down the racial gauntlet. Now, on this same bus, at least three times a week, a young black man will threaten one of the numerous rotating black drivers, who usually decline to respond. Affirmative White Trashian was a regular who knew this. A black driver can ignore threats from blacks without losing face, but cannot avoid a challenge from Whitey in front of his comrades in Baltimore's generations old Cold Race War.

As soon as the challenge was uttered I and the guy next to me both groaned out loud. We knew that if this thing went physical, I was going to be getting attacked by at least three guys just for being there, and he would be eating all of the stray punches, because he was on the window side of the seat. I quickly visualized my two options if a race riot broke out between Affirmative White Trashian, old apparently white me, and the thirty black dudes on the bus:

1. Bum-rush the white dude and hope I can ram his head through the windshield before I am beaten into a coma, just as a form of revenge for getting me stomped.
2. Stab the little dude next to me in the groin with my Bic Deskmaster and employ him as a human shield while I use my box cutter to slice the hands that would seek to pry him and I loose from our mid-coach seat.

When I get into a situation that hairy and two options pop into my mind, they start to loop in my head. This is not contemplation or planning. My gut seems to forward options up to my brain for consideration, and, as often as not, overrules the brain. This means that I don't truly make a decision when the bad karma goes down. I will just react according to whichever impulse was looping through my damaged brain at the time. It's not the best system, but I'm stuck with this old hardware that tends to generate defaults...

As it turned out my fellow White Trashian had less balls and more brains than most of his impulsive ilk, and backed down, but not far enough down to lose face. He began grousing at imaginary people farther back in the bus and I didn't have to go with either one of my unsavory options.

There is no Place Like Home

For some reason every time I close my eyes and click my heels I end up right back where I started; on a concrete game-trail in a post-modern wilderness scoured clean by windblown trash as the remnants of my own unworthy ape-tribe are hunted to extinction amongst its ruins.

On a lighter note, I can think of no better place to celebrate the holy day of the Patron Saint of Violent Alcoholics than Harm City. Tell T-Bone, Shugga and Jai-Mighty I sent you.

James, Thursday April 12th 2012