Last night, when I got into work near to 1 a.m., I walked by Carl—a young, anachronistic hippie—who Tyrice was whining to, about the trials and tribulations of being a Dindu victim of white racism and police harassment.

I looked at them directly—which is taboo among the young manginas of Dindustan. Carl grinned as Tyrice looked at me with open fear, afraid I might speak. I looked at them questioningly and Carl said that some brothers in Dallas had gunned down some cops.

I looked at Tyrice and said, “Two weeks ago I had a ϲunt pig screaming at me down in the city with her hand on her gun, for the crime of being a white pedestrian. The more cops get killed the more cops freak out and go for their gun under stress. I’ll probably be shot by a pig long before the hoodrats get me.”

Carl shook his head as Tyrice cringed in horror, staring at my shaven head as if I were the king of all racist, Dindu-nerd-eating bikers. The other Dindu coworkers would not even talk to me last night, for, in their highly conditioned, media enthralled, suburban world, any white man who is not terrified of Dindus on sight—and most are—is a mass murdering race warrior. However, this is only partially racially-sensitive conditioning. The greater part of the problem—a problem because it does absolutely prohibit communication between them and I, and I represent one of their few chances at gathering useful information about re-growing the ball sack that their mothers clipped off at birth—is emasculation. When young men are physically incapable of making eye contact with an older man that is not physically imposing, loud or aggressive—as are all the young men under 24 of bother races I work with—then there is no person-to-person exchange of information and their generation stays locked into the media loop, eating, drinking and breathing The Everlasting Lie.

The only thing required to destroy a culture is emasculation. The frantic and deep-seated Dindu fears of whites and of any white leader that does not wallow in racial guilt, is essentially rooted in widespread emasculation.

Just how do we re-grow balls on a steer?