“Hello, hello, everyone, this is Stefan Molyneux of Free Domain Radio, speaking. I trust you are doing well. Today we have a very special guest, T. Spoone Slickens, Inquire—his real name if you can believe that. Mister Slickens is with us from his home town of Baltimore, to discuss, the truth about Black America. Thank you so much, Mister Slickens, for taking the time today.”

Mister Slickens: “Thank you Mister Molay—it’s an honor to be speaking with you.”

Stefan: “Okay…ah, yes. We’re looking into your home town, what with the recent riots—unrest, now, I think they call it. If we could begin with your education—you being an urban educator.”

Mister Slickens: “I received my disinformation, or brain washing, from Gardenville Elementary School and then Hamilton Middle School. I then escaped the clutches of Leviathan, with my thankfully stubborn mind intact, at age fourteen.”

Stefan: “So your ‘higher’ education was had where?”

Mister Slickens: “The Lexington Market, where I watched the debates between the Korean Christians, the Black Muslims, and the Black Jews. I would listen to these old fellows go at it about this, that and the other thing, and would then go up to the Enoch Pratt Library—the main branch—and do my fact checking. I subsequently found, that no matter how off a man was in his opinion, that something he said would spark a fruitful inquiry.”

Stefan: [Suppresses a wide grin, unsuccessfully, turns his shoulder toward the camera, recovers, and interjects.] So, that is where you received the sobriquet ‘Inquire?’ Why not Inquirer?”

Mister Slickens: “That was already taken, nationally, and in Philadelphia.”

Stefan: “So where did your inquiring mind take you—but first, to what do you attribute your stubborn refusal to be indoctrinated by the state schools and which drove you on your quest to learn.”

Mister Slickens: “I was born during a tropical storm on Cape Fear, North Carolina, touched by reality in the womb if you will.”

Stefan: [Suppresses broadening grin and nervously scratches back with right hand.] “So, with the inspiration of the harrowing circumstances of your birth, and having been transplanted to Baltimore—as part of the Great Migration, I assume—you went where for the continuation of your education, at the tender age of fourteen?”

Mister Slickens: “To the Arcade Newsstand at the corner of Hamilton and Harford Roads, between the hotdog joint, now a pizza joint, and the theatre, now a storefront church.”

Stefan: “So, having dropped out of a Baltimore City middle school at the age of fourteen, and then having listened to religious fanatics argue theology at some market place, and visiting the library to—I am assuming—debunk their arguments, you went on to ‘graduate school’ if you will, to the newsstand.”

Mister Slickens: “Yes, Sir. I was too young to sell the tobacco products, so could not run the register. I was tasked with stocking the literature, cleaning, and also reading as much as I could in order to engage in discussion and debate with the patrons, mostly older white men. My employer encouraged this, noticing that these men stayed longer, bought more coffee, and often purchased an extra copy of a magazine for me to take home and study up on. I was, you might say, the main intellectual attraction.”

Stefan: “Was there any further education, other than your own reading, that has prepared you to take on your self-appointed role as an ‘Urban Educator?’”

Mister Slickens: “Yes, Father Duncan, Pastor of Saint Dominick’s, who frequented the newsstand, took me under his wing and taught me the finer points of the written word, including Latin. Once I got to reading those old Latin texts I came to understand, that all though the Romans were a sinful slave-driving bunch, they did not put stock in a man’s race, only his behavior, his character, his value to society. This realization, that we Americans lived in a fantasy land of delusion, lit the spark in my brain to get to the bottom of this mess.”

Stefan: “Who was your favorite Roman author?”

Mister Slickens: “Caesar. I’ve read the Conquest of Gaul a dozen times, at least.”

Stefan: “Not Marcus Aurelius?”

Mister Slickens: “Once was enough there. How seriously can you take a man who produced such a murderous brat as Commodus?”

Stefan: “Excellent point—though favoring Caesar to such an extent is, should we say—p”

Mister Slickens: “Manly, it’s a man’s book, on being a man, conquering men, ruling men, and outsmarting the rest of the men.”

Stefan: “Yes, peachy, paradise.”

Mister Slickens: “Exactly.”

Stefan: “Moving forward, despite your eschewing of formal education—which I can absolutely understand considering your choices—I’d like to explore the parenting aspect of life that you alluded to in regards to Marcus Aurelius and his maniac son.”

Mister Slickens: “Certainly, Steven.” [Stefan grimaces and tightens his fist.] It is my belief that the ancient practice of the slave masters in breaking up the family in order to maintain control, has been inherited by the State, and has been refocused on Black America with a vengeance. This assault on the Black family has been so successful that the evil eye of government has now been turned on whites and others. After all, it was a southern white man who started the welfare swindle. Speaking of which, by bringing in the Latino labor force to keep Native Born Americans in a vulnerable position, the State is now forced to ramp up its attack on the family, in order to crack the tough Catholic nut of the Hispanic working class. Those little folks don’t know the State is coming for them, and likely won’t notice until it has extinguished the family in the rest of America.”

Stefan: [Stefan seems to be speaking to his assistants.] “That was actually quite good—perhaps original.”

Stefan: “I understand you to be a teacher in some capacity?”

Mister Slickens: “Yes, indeed. For the past thirty years I have been the janitor at Saint Dominick’s Church. Being as these white Catholics are dying off like flies or fleeing to the suburbs in droves, there is an under use of the facility. This has left me steward of considerable space in the basement of the church when it is not being used for those cry baby meetings of those whining drug addicts and alcoholics. Some of the local children who skip school, such as I had, have come to me for guidance. I usually have a class of two to five, with parental permission of course.”

Stefan: “Mister Slickens, miraculously enough, you and I seem to be in absolute agreement that the removal of the father from the life of the child—particularly the son—is key to generating the outright savagery and brutality witnessed in your home town and in other American cities currently languishing under the withering eye of the State. Let us go to number two. What, in your opinion, is the key aspect of black parenting—as it stands—in generating such epidemic levels of crime and violence in the Black Community?”

Mister Slickens: “It’s the violent black mother, whooping her son that has caused much of this.”

Stefan: “You may not be aware of this, but I have done an entire series of videos and books on non-violent parenting. I can’t agree with you enough that spanking—or as you call it whooping—is at the core of our social disfunction.”

Mister Slickens: “Oh, a man whooping his son, or a woman spanking her daughter or small child, is no big thing. What is damaging is when you have a boy being emasculated before puberty even hits, by his big-ass mamma trying to be a man.”

Stefan: “Whoa, whoa—are you seriously rationalizing the striking of children as an acceptable aspect of parenting?”

Mister Slickens: “I am.”

Stefan: “Mister Slickens, were you spanked, or beaten as a child?

Mister Slickens: “I was never spanked, by my mother or my father, although, I can tell by the high sugar content in your blood, that you got whooped by your mamma. Indeed, my only violence at the hands of an adult was when my Daddy wouldn’t wait for my mother to give birth, resulting in this twitch in my poked eye. I repaid him the favor before I could walk, or even crawl, by punching him in the eye as recompense. Ever since that point he forbade my mother to whoop me, and engaged in debate with me rather than laying on his hand, knowing that when I reached manhood, there would be pain to pay for any cruelty. But, I tell you, the fact that I knew my Daddy considered whooping me, and the fact that he kicked me out on the road as soon as I grew hair on my balls and had a chance of getting the upper hand in an altercation, set me on the road to enlightenment.”

Stefan: [raises eyebrows in a penetrating, startled manner] “Okay, two out of three ain’t bad. Let’s go on to your specialty, understanding Black People, and see if we can shine the light of reason on many of the misconceptions held about blacks, by whites. For the sad byproduct of the recent rioting and glaring level of violence and criminality among Black Americans, is that it has reinforced and even resurrected some prejudices held by whites. So, let us, if you will, dispel some of these misconceptions that whites hold about blacks.

Mister Slickens: “Shoot, Son.”

Stefan: “Okay, Mister Slickens, in preparing for your appearance on our show, my assistants worked diligently poling a random sampling of our viewership. The following are a number of questions which—if you are game—I’d like to put to you on behalf of our viewership. I would first like to point out that these are viewer questions. In fact, I will give the first names of the viewers, just so that there is no misunderstanding, as—in my estimation—some of these questions betray a certain unfortunate bias toward blacks.

“Are you ready, Mister Slickens?”

Mister Slickens: ‘Shoot, son.”

Stefan: “The following questions are from Steevo.

“Do all black people know how to ride wheelies right out of the womb?’

Mister Slickens: “No, only urban hoodrats are born with this natural ability, which stems from their mamma bending over for long periods while pregnant with their unfortunate asses.”

Stefan: “Why do they spend three hundred dollars or more on shoes, wear them out and then get upset when something happens to them?”

Mister Slickens: “The hoodrat is born and bred to break the law and to flee the blue tentacles of the Leviathan through the crowded urban environment. Add to this the fact that the ghetto bitch that bore him is basically a reptile, who drops that bitch egg any old where and lets it hatch, while she collects the welfare and eats high on the hog. So of course, that young hopper—as we call them—needs to be fleet of foot.”

Stefan: “Why do the really dark ones get black on black tattoos?”

Mister Slickens: “Because white girls get tattoos, and whatever a white girl has—like long hair—a ghetto girl must have.”

Stefan: “Why do they put rims on the shittiest car or spend more on the rims then the car?”

Mister Slickens: “That is the kind of dumb shit you get when a woman raises a boy on her own. He becomes taken with shinny things and pretty stuff to a female degree.”

Stefan: “The following questions were submitted by Joann. Why are black people so loud?”

Mister Slickens: “One might as well ask why white people are so inappropriately quiet. Have you ever tried listening to a heavy metal concert? Why you can’t never hear that sissy white boy singing above that screaming guitar. You need to get yourself some Patty Labell of Jennifer Hudson up there so she can be heard.”

Stefan: “Mister Slickens, I must interject, and point out that the best band in rock and roll history—and I don’t know if you are familiar with them—was Queen. The lead vocalist, Freddie Mercury, had no such problem having his operatic quality voice being heard over the guitar.”

Mister Slickens: “That is because that faɡɡot took dick in the ass, which brought out the bitch in him.”

Stefan: [Groan, accompanied by a smacking of his forehead and a pinched face grimace.] “I’m sorry for the interruption, Mister Slickens. By all means continue with your brilliant illumination of the facts!”

Mister Slickens: “As to the reason why blacks are loud and whites are quiet we need only check in with old Uncle Darwin.’

Stefan: [Groans and looks at the ceiling, working his jaw in consternation.]

Mister Slickens: “The fact of the matter is black people evolved in Africa to be noisy. After developing a taste for meat over nuts they swung down out of the trees and became the targets of lion and hyena aggression. With eat-you-alive stuff like that going down you need some noisy folks to warn the others. It’s that simple.

“Similarly, with white people, we must understand that they got that way from living in caves. Just like their skin turned pale from living out of the sun and their eyes got all blued from those mammoth bone fires” [Stefan grinds the heel of his hand into his forehead and grinds his jaw.], “they evolved—devolved, actually—to be quiet, lest some dummy take up a shout and bring the entire cave down on the lot of them.”

Stefan: “Why are their fewer black serial killers?

Mister Slickens: “That is an issue of classification. If all of the drug gang hitters that killed three or more niggas was classified as serial killers you’d be asking the opposite question.”

Stefan: “Why do blacks hate Mexicans so much?”

Mister Slickens: “It’s either that or hate their White Daddy, and that ain’t happenin!”

Stefan: “The following questions are from Lisa. Why do some ghetto gibbons walk around with their hands in their pants or wear their pants so far off their asses they have to walk like a cowboy to keep them from falling down completely?”

Mister Slickens: “When a man goes to prison his belt and shoe laces are taken from him. So, when young hoppers back in the early eighties wanted to be thought of as man they’d dress like they had just been released. Although I could do without looking at that designer underwear—brought into being by this very fashion trend—I have no problem with it. It makes them slower and easier to catch when they raid my janitorial closet.”

Stefan: “Why do ghetto women insult people within their hearing distance?”

Mister Slickens: “Because they are rude, stupid, and rewarded for being such, by their benevolent White Daddy, who used to be the slave master up in the big house, but is now the government.”

Stefan: “Why don't they get the concept of an education or its value?”

Mister Slickens: “The education available to them has no value. Be thankful these nasty people did not pay attention in school, then they’d be hacking your bank account rather than the chain on your son’s bike.”

Stefan: “Why do they seem to be lacking a value system outside of materialism?”

Mister Slickens: “This goes back to slavery, in which it was made clear to these people’s ancestors that a child is nothing but a good to be owned. I see whites—these days—being as prone to this bias as blacks.”

Stefan: “Why do they graffitti stuff, litter so much and are so destructive?”

Miser Slickens: “These are ways to poke Whitey in the eye, small passive aggressions targeting society as a whole, which they see as their enemy.”

Stefan: “Why are they always in ridiculously large groups compared to any other ethnic group?”

Mister Slickens: “Again, this goes back to slavery where blacks were predominantly worked in gangs.”

Stefan: “Why do people try to talk like them when they're sub-literate sounding anyway? Or dance like them, fucking the air? Why are we emulating anything they do???”

Mister Slickens: “Obviously, because we have some pretty darned stupid white people out there!”

Stefan: “I'm hating diversity with its assumption that I'm supposed to be understanding of antisocial behaviors. It's brought me nothing but noise, violence, rudeness—crap that decreases my quality of life and endangers it. My neighborhood sucks now. I wouldn't have moved into it if it had looked like this when I was looking to buy.”

Mister Slickens: “Although mankind’s natural state is to dwell in ethnic communities, the government has purposefully sought to destroy community cohesion by placing the most neglected and abused segment of the population—being blacks—smack in the middle of white areas via subsidized housing and mass transit initiatives. This has the added benefit—to the government—of getting all of those stupid white people who vote to authorize increased police spending and prison construction—a boon to the Welfare State.”

Stefan: “The following questions are directed to you from Ajay, who claims to be a black woman who is—this very week—leaving Baltimore due to the rampant crime and rudeness. For this we are truly sorry, Miss, and trust that your future in whatever statist paradise you have moved to is much the better.”

Mister Slickens: “Baby, I’m sorry to hear you’re leaving. We got few enough good sisters to be able to afford losing one. On the other hand, if you had contacted T. Spoone Slickens about your concerns earlier, he might have been able to provide some guidance and protection.”

Stefan: [Rolls eyes in head before reading.] “Mister Slickens, we are running up against the clock and this lady has sent 20 questions. Perhaps we might make a speed quiz of it, a game if you will, to test your steel trap wits where all things ghetto are concerned?”

T.S.: “Bring it, Sugar Britches!”

Stefan: “Why do they have big lips and little ears?”

T.S.: “From going down on the white masters who bred us as they bastard slaves—hence the adoration of Angelina Jolee.”

Stefan: “Why do they have big butts?”

T.S.: “Oh, you a no-booty sista for sure. To hold Master’s weak-ass up while they getting busy up in the big house, which is apt to be in a hurry so that Mistress don’t catch his ass in the act.”

Stefan: “Why do they have thick tongues?”

T.S.: “That is another epironogonetic ” [Stefan groans] response to oppression, so the negro tongue did not get poisoned from all of that shoe polish—which is almost always got to be black or brown don’t you know, puttin’ the metaphor right into that boot lickin’ mouth!”

Stefan: “Why are they so loud?

T.S.: “Lions and hyenas—next question.”

Stefan: “Why do they dress like gangsters and ho's?”

T.S.: “Because they are—girl, get your behind to the country and close the door. It’s a miracle you survived up in here.”

Stefan: “Why do they like to bring attention to themselves?”

T.S.: “It’s a deception, tried and true, so you don’t see they greedy hand in your pocket taking your last dollar!”

Stefan: “Why are they so lazy?”

T.S.: “Because that lazy white muvasuca up on the porch of that big house fathered them bastards, and the apple don’t fall far from the tree.”

Stefan: “Why are they always complaining?”

T.S.: “Because they are raised by bitches, and what does a bitch do but bitch about every old thing?”

Stefan: “Why are they always bringing up the past—bringing up slavery—instead of living for now?”

T.S.: “Because the slave’s lot in life was so sorrowful and the ‘now’ sucked so bad he got to reminiscing about the past—even if he didn’t know jack about it.”

Stefan: “Why is their first reaction to a problem to be violent?”

T.S.: “Girl, you bring up a race of folks at the whipping post, what you think you gonna git but whooping?”

Stefan: “Why are they always making up words? What's wrong with the words that have already been created in the dictionary?”

T.S.: “It’s easier then remembering the real words.”

Stefan: “Why do they tease or put down other black people that speak and dress well?”

T.S.: “Because you’re too good for them niggas, girl, and they know it—and are trying to keep you from realizing it.”

Stefan: “Why are the ones that drive nice cars have crappy apartments?”

T.S.: “A vacant stash house is a dime a dozen, but a good getaway car is hard to come by.”

Stefan: “Why are so many on public assistance?”

T.S.: “Because they was bred to be a dependent race. The independent thinkers who tried to strike out on their own were killed off.

Stefan: “Why do they have so many children that they can't take care of?”

T.S.: “White Daddy has that covered with his welfare bullshit.”

Stefan: “Why are they always trying to scam people?”

T.S.: “Because they take after their White Daddy, who is the government, and what does a government do but scam folks?”

Stefan: “Why do they get tattoos? You can't see them most of the time because their skin is too dark.”

T.S.: “Because they’re dumbasses.”

Stefan: “Why can't they throw their fake hair out in the trash can? When you see the hair blowing across the road it looks scary.”

T.S.: “What a unicorn you are. They don’t throw that shit out. Some other bitch ripped it off they head while they was rumbling in the asphalt jungle.”

Stefan: “Why do they smell like the food they cook?”

T.S.: “Because they cook with heavy grease, a legacy of coming up on a pork-fed plantation, and the grease makes the scent stick to their clothes.”

Stefan: “Why are they always spitting, both men and women?”

T.S.: “Because, deep down, they know themselves to still be slaves, slaves to the government that made those sidewalks, and that is their little bit of unconscious rebellion—all they can manage on a day to day, short of going into crime.

Stefan: “Mister Slickens, it has been a pleasure to have you on the show, and, although this was probably a onetime occurrence, I have –well, I’ve had my eyes opened. Thank you for joining us today.”

Mister Slickens: “Your welcome, and thank you, Steven Molay for helping me say my piece.”

[Stefan grabs his ears and grimaces at the ceiling and the video cuts away…]