Raphael is a friend of mine of more than twenty years, a man who is a brother to me. He is half-Norse and half-Spanish, a unique Neanderthal cross-breed. He lives in a small home in East Baltimore. His car has been broken into twice. On one occasion he saw the thieves. These are two innocent, unarmed, youth of the Hip Hop kind, one white one black, the Paul McCartney and Steevie Wonder of their era.

The Hip Hop youth is the frontline trooper in the State campaign to exterminate palefaces. For decades of writing on this subject I have resisted the notion that palefaces are slated for extinction. But, with mounting evidence every year, I have finally crumbled before the most rational conclusion, that the means towards the actual end rather than the falsely stated end are the measure of the State's intent.

It is an unfortunate fact that more palefaces are trying to wipe out palefaces than the hip hop slave thugs of the liberal autarchy. So this series of articles will profile palefaces that are out to get palefaces, both on principal and for gain.

In this case, Raphael has tried to be a good citizen, and has called and spoken with the BCPD many times. Since the pigs have declined to act against the thieves, Raphael threatened the thieves. This brought the police to his door, with a statement, that if anything happens to either one of these doomed hoodrats that they are coming for him. Raphael is almost sixty?

These thugs will likely be offed by one of their own kind some day.

What do the pigs do?

Do they defend him or his property, fulfilling the 'protect and serve' motto on their car?

No.

Do they defend the criminal and his activity?

Yes.

Pigs only have one thing—for they certainly do not have the support of their traitorous masters—and that one thing is the power to use force with a reasonable assumption of getting away with it. That force, if used against the other agent of the State's attack against palefaces—namely Hip Hop hoodrats—no longer comes with a reasonable expectation of getting away with it. However, no one cares when a paleface is gunned down by cops, which happened two weeks ago in Eastern Baltimore County to very little fanfare.

So, how do we palefaces deal with pigs?

Never speak your mind to a pig.

Never speak your heart to a pig.

Never speak the truth to a pig, unless the truth clearly exonerates you.

Lie to pigs whenever you think it serves you.

You must get used to lying to the enemy, for they are creatures of the Lie, are ruled by the liars that master them, and by the hoodrat liars that manipulate them.

Do not extend honor to a dishonorable enemy who holds all of the advantages except for those superior thoughts that are within your mind.

The pig does not have a mind of its own, but is rather, a kind of meat-puppet—and he oh so painfully is aware of this, knows well the strands of power from which he dangles—easily manipulated by thugs and politicians alike.

Do everything you can to stay off of pig radar, which includes calling them. Recently a woman was raped and applied for a gun permit after her rapist was exonerated due to mishandling of her rape kit. She is being denied a permit because the pigs know she has a valid reason to use it and they are, above all, jealous of the only thing they have, power to use force within politically correct limits.

If you report breaking and entering in your area, and the cops talk to you, and then the drug addict doing the breaking and entering gets capped by his drug dealer for being behind on payments, the pigs come for you.

Lie to the pigs.

Be a stranger to the pigs.

Minimal information is the rule when dealing with pigs.

Only answer questions directly and to the point.

Never give a reason or a feeling.

Play dumb as much as possible.

They like to think they are smart and are not, so playing stupid usually works.

Never forget, that the pigs are the enemy, and, like any overconfident enemy, can be tricked into acting on your behalf, so long as you are not honest and open with them.

Do not make the mistake that the Indians once made, of being honest with a dishonorable enemy, or your kind will one day dwindle as has theirs, to the verge of extinction.

Many a great Indian chief from Metacomet, to Crazy Horse, to Sitting Bull and Geronimo, where done in, not by palefaces, but by fellow Red men in paleface employ. When you see that paleface cop, realize that he now fights for global forces as far beyond his understanding as were the industrial concerns that ultimately paid the salaries and bounties of the Indian police and scouts were beyond their understanding. In their ignorance the Red men did in the best of their own kind for the honor of being the slave of an enemy, losing even more than did those they betrayed, for they lost themselves as well as their world, where those they betrayed at least went to their death as a human that they recognized, not as some leashed parody of the enemy. Do not underestimate the magnetic slave instincts of the petty palefaces that would rule you at a traffic stop, at the gas station, at the farm store—when he cuts in front of you and does not even pay—and at your own front door when he comes after you for defending it.