‘My Jungle Bunny Neighbors’
I was hanging out with Ajay, my former roommate, the other day and she had this to say about condominium living.
“My jungle bunny neighbors are driving me crazy with their rap music. They are so ghetto, such trifling fools. If they’re going to blast music so it comes through the walls I’d appreciate some Lynyrd Skynyrd. It sounds like their beating the jungle drums calling the nations to war. If I complain they will know it’s me.
“I live in hell. Jungle bunnies next door, gay faɡɡots upstairs playing video games and butt fucking. The only one I can talk to is the crazy old lady next to the faɡɡots with the glass of lye at the door to throw in the face of intruders. You know her eyesight is going so I’m not knocking on that door at night!”
Ajay is one of numerous middle class Baltimore area blacks who are sick to death of the lower class criminal blacks that “are shoved up our ass by the government anytime we move somewhere decent!”
She was particularly incensed by this week’s news story about a gang member bringing a gun to school in the city, which revealed the fact on the news cast that Baltimore City police officers are not permitted to carry their guns when they patrol on school grounds! She asked me what sense this made and I told her, “The city council and mayor are voted in by the families of criminals and much of their campaign contributions come from criminals, so they have to be submissive to the pro-criminal sentiments of the electorate. The county politicians are getting on the band wagon too, putting in subsidized housing, zoning for Wall-Marts, etc.”
Mayor O’Mamma
Mayor O’Mamma went on record last week that “black men” needed to “step up” and stop violent crime against blacks, even spinning the Fergusson fallout in an attempt to get blacks to report murderers instead of staying tight-lipped. This hits close to home for her since her nephew was killed by criminals in retaliation for her anticrime stance.
This is a disgusting stance, and harkens back to slave master manipulation of his chattel. The Anti-bellum slave master kept his slave man and woman separate through direct means. The new liberal left wing slave master keeps the black man out of the household and insures the perpetuation of emasculated violent generations ad infinitum by taking from the American middle class and giving to the American underclass woman in return for keeping the father of her son semi-homeless and unconnected with his boy, thus ensuring that there will always be 5-10% of American males that are violently alienated from society. The rate of violent male alienation in Black America is at least 30%, and White America is going the same way, as lower class white women adopt the same parasitic life way as their black sisters. This gives the middle class something to fear and justifies raising their taxes to protect against these State-created terrorists.
And, just like the slave master of old had his overseer to brutalize the slave child, our own slave master has the black woman to brutalize the child destined to be a criminal threat to the enslaved masses. This has two effects.
First is the development of an overaggressive need-obsessed class of vociferous media martyrs in the person of the black woman. Ever since the movie The Color Purple, and the ascension of Oprah [a onetime Baltimore girl] to the living goddess of the national feminist media conscience, the hand-ringing wailing black mother of the slain criminal she created has provided the white media scions with a third person object of social guilt, to milk [like Ray Rice’s wife] even when she objects, for the cause of social devolution which empowers the Left.
Secondly, when one brutalizes a child at the hands of a trusted woman that child either inverts as a social submissive, laying down a sympathetic victim strata, or as a social misfit prone to violence, crime, and structuring misogynistic surrogate families in the form of gangs, all of which gives the State another internal enemy to justify its heavy hand.
The EBT Awards
Three days ago, on the last day of Free Money, a black woman was shopping at my neighborhood grocer. She had a huge food stamp order and did not want to wait in line. The predominantly black front end staff was being managed by a white head cashier, who works under the black front end manager. This is a 80% black/20% white racially integrated crew serving a 90/10% customer base. Most of the neighborhood whites shop elsewhere. Many of the black customers come from across town out of the deep ghetto to get Mister Mel’s cheap deals.
The white lady manager was checking out express customers with 10 items or less. This black ghetto woman insisted that she be taken in the express lane. The manager declined, and held her ground calmly as the woman screamed that she was “a racist white bitch!” After minutes of abuse of the manager, who is charged with keeping the front end running smoothly, the foul-mouthed savage agreed to check out through one of the full service lanes.
She went to Kirk’s register. Kirk is a 30 year old black man who hates black women, and who does not permit himself to be swayed by the attractive ones that try to play him. He has absolutely no patience for a “nasty ghetto bitch,” and said “I’m not checking you out. You are not going to speak to my boss like that and expect me to serve you.”
The bitch “went off” screaming about how he was “racist.” He laughed and said, “How can I be racist when I’m blacker than you?”
Promising to "come back on" him with "the NAACP,” and the “EOC,” she went to Meg’s register. Meg is a black woman about 30 who just got released from a six year prison term for stabbing her husband in the neck! Meg hates rude people as most prison veterans do. When the woman tried to check out with her she sneered, “What, did this bitch win the EBT awards or something with those high heels?”
The irate woman was not about to mess with Meg, and went to another cashier who checked her out. While whites, through the narrow personal and media prisms afforded them, often see such behavior as an example of all blacks being violent racist fiends, the portion of the black population in Baltimore that does not engage in such behavior, and which I estimate is one to three quarters depending on the area, tend to see these people for what they are; parasitic foot soldiers of an inequitable society who live like medieval nobility upon the toil of others and have special rights reserved for them by the royalty, which would be the State. For this reason I disagree with forming cultural resistance movements based solely on racial lines, as that plays into the State’s divisive hand.
The Ho Mind
As I walked into this same city supermarket early in the week a little three year old black boy was playing shadow tag with the door sensors, stepping into the electric eye, and then jumping back when the door opened. His mother was cussing him and threatening, calling him vile names and saying, “Don’t let me come over there!”
As boys do, he pushed the parental tolerance envelop and she came over there, grabbed him by the collar and lifted him Darth Vadar like, choking him with the twist of her fist as she punched and slapped him to many targets from back of the knee to face. Her strikes were harder than many that I have seen fell men. Her targets were chosen for pain and humiliation with slaps to the face and thumps to joints. I have seen a handful of black girls slapped by their mothers in public, mostly to the backside or shoulder. I have seen dozens of black boys punched in the body, slapped in the face, kicked, stomped, knocked to the ground, and even rammed with shopping carts by their mothers. I have never seen a black man take a hand to a child or woman in public.
As a street survivor this has helped me, as the black youths and men who have attempted to threaten or harm me have all acted too vocally and have eventually folded bitch-like. As my friend Steevo says, “They are raised by bitches and fold like bitches.”
As an employer, coach and coworker I have had to devote a lot of energy to counseling black men who have been raised to youthhood under this reign of terror, only to be kicked out of the nest to fend for themselves while their sisters remain at home cranking out a second generation of State subsidy vectors.
The Little Man Smackdown Legacy
Bray, an older black man, overhead Rus and I discussing the Ray Rice pimp slap scandal. He came over and said, “I don’t mean to butt in to your conversation. But I have to get this off my chest.”
He then looked around to make sure no black women were in hearing distance and continued, “You white fellas have no idea how wicked our women are. These bitches will beat you while you’re a boy, kick you out when you a teen, kick you out when they have your baby, then call the police on you after they slap you for not bringing them more money. The black woman is an evil snake of a creature who plays wicked on a man’s heart and sends him to prison or the soup kitchen in the end. I’ve had a razor held to my throat, an ash tray planted in my head—was locked away in a closet and beat when a boy. They a vile scourge on the world!" he whispered, as he began to shake and sat down to finish his Hennessey.
My friend Duz had a black girlfriend who stole from him. Even though he never raised a hand to her she became so irate over the fact that he slept with his keys and money in his pillowcase under his head on the basement floor, that she eventually stabbed him in the face and ran him over with his own pink 1954 Cadillac.
Ian was a black dude that served in a U.S. Marine recon platoon in the late 70’s. When he came back home to live with his sister she rented him a room while he worked with me on a supermarket night crew. One time he finished the milk and she slapped him, so he slapped her back, than thought better of it and apologized. He woke up a few hours later in his underwear, being dragged outside by three cops and beaten in the alley with batons. His radial bone in the forearm was broken cleanly and his head was split open and lumped up before he was thrown in jail for two weeks.
Timmy is a timid, bookish 20 year old black man who lives at home with his mother, who does not work. She lives off of the EBT cash and food stamps she gets for his younger siblings, and takes all but $20 of his weekly pay to buy steaks and alcohol and smokes for her and her deadbeat boyfriend.
These are just a few examples of black female violence of this uniquely entitled kind. The stories are legion and include:
In The Misogynist’s Cracked Rearview Mirror
Some of the nicest women I know are black women, and overall, I find that even ghetto bitches are more polite than suburban white women, who will not even let you hold the door for them without implying that you are trying to have sex with them. But, fully a third of black urban women are savage aggressors who are every bit as cruel to, and use the same torture methods of, the white slave masters and British Navy officers of the Age of Sail.
As long as these domestic brutes are paid handsomely to alienate their men and terrorize their boys, the rest of us will face a steady stream of irrationally violent black youths, who, if successfully defended against, have the ingrained entitlement and victim/martyr instincts of the postmodern feminist to fuel their calls for media and legal justice against whoever would deny them the impulse of acting out like their unaccountable mothers.
Remember, that when you see a black man irrationally arguing with, resisting, and even fighting, cops, that he has been raised to behave like a perpetually PMSing woman; the same woman who refused to help him with his school work, and then went to school and threatened to beat up his teacher when he fared poorly as a student; who was then simply ushered out tender-handedly by the unarmed school cop who addressed her respectfully as ‘miss’ or ‘ma’am’ the entire time. And then, when he is finally killed acting according to her abusive conditioning, she is overcome by guilt, and makes for the perfect martyr queen as she falls over his casket wailing, “Ma baybay! My sweet baby boy!”
After considering such things one should never wonder at the rage behind rap lyrics and the legion of black youths who fight the police, the later literally being their only chance to win the unqualified approval of their mother.
Damn, James, speaking the truth will forever keep you marginalized but thank you for the honesty.
Thank you Phillip.
Marginally Yours,
James
One of the best things you've written on this topic. Incredibly brutal, so much so that when I linked to it on my Facebook page I dared not use a pull quote and gave a warning to all who might read it. Talk about having a discussion on race relations in the US? IMO it begins with this essay. Bravo.
In this society such an essay has no rightful place. Hell, I began writing because I knew no one—no one—among my monthly contacts who I could speak to of such things. In the book I am reviewing now, Oswald Spengler refers to this as 'dread of reality' and claims it is part of modernity's intellectually circumscribing psychological baggage. I have never seen myself as writing for the many, but the few.
I try to use as much humor as I can because this stuff can be so depressing. A friend told me after reading this piece that they just realized that they have to limit their exposure to my nonfiction writing as it is too depressing. There were some passages that particularly bothered me on rereading this piece.
The one, that I do not think I did justice as a writer, was the heart wrenching experience of being approached by the older black man about the Ray Rice fiancé-slap, in which she is shown on film acting with medieval battle level ferocity. This fellow is not some wimp, but a tough old dude. I cannot recall him crying and shaking while half-discussing his barbaric treatment—by some woman that was obviously dear to him—without being overcome by a chilling sadness in my chest. He wanted to open up, but both Rus and I declined to encourage his telling of the whole tale because we did not want to see this guy breakdown in public. I see this man every weak and always notice the pain behind his eyes. He is like a PTSD survivor of some undeclared war—a ghost in his own mind—but the only thing our society permits him to be victimized by is white men. We refuse to acknowledge his being hunted by young black men as an elder, and will not even discuss his brutal treatment by black women as a child, husband, and boyfriend.
In When You're Food I recount a gang stomping by a number of large black girls of a smaller pretty black girl that was absolutely horrific. I am certain you can find a boatload of this stuff on YouTube. But honestly, I don't want to see it.
Thanks for the support Travolta, and keep Staying Alive!