This essay is from Michael Polignano’s book Taking Our Own Side, available in hardcover and paperback here.
March 31, 2004
Last year, before I killed my television, I saw an advertisement again and again that gave me the ultimate solution to the immigration problem, two sharp words to cleave the Gordian knot of casuistic hairsplitting and partisan pseudo-debates.
The ad was for a burger joint called “Jack in the Box.” “Jack,” the fictional owner, is a tall Whiter-than-White guy. He has a big, round, plastic head, like a snowman head or a Jack-in-the-box head. He talks with a very flat, radio-announcer White-guy voice. He is easy-going, buffoonish, and emasculated. He’s the typical corporate White male, who tries to make himself as non-threatening as possible because he desperately hopes he won’t get evicted from his box by Jackie or Jamal.
In this particular commercial, Jack is standing in a Mexican-style marketplace. Before him is a typical squat, brown, round-faced, homely Mexican mestizo and her grinning, bobble-headed boy-child. She is selling some sort of searing Aztec emetic made from smoked jalapeño peppers called “chipotlé.” But Jack, the hopeless ultra-Gringo, cannot pronounce it correctly.
An aside: why do Peter Jennings and other media lefties take such pride in pronouncing Latin-American names and places with Spanish accents? Don’t they realize how ridiculous they sound? Whenever Jennings would say “NEEEcaraGUA,” I expected to hear a flourish of flamenco guitar and some castanets. They never say “Paree” or “Köln” or “München.” They don’t even say “MaDREED,” which is proof positive that they are merely pandering to America’s brown invaders. But back to Jack.
Jack can’t pronounce “chipotlé” properly. “Chipootle” he volunteers meekly, eager for approval, his smiley face replaced by a scribbled, loopy line. To which the woman replies in the international language of Loud and Slow, her words clearly enunciated, her voice clearly annoyed, “CHIPOTLÉ.” After a couple of more unsuccessful tries, the patronizing squaw sighs in frustration and says in perfect English, “Just go!”
I was thunderstruck! It was a revelation: I saw the error of our White ways. We are too polite, too concerned to accommodate and demonstrate goodwill to non-White invaders. These invaders, moreover, do not share or reciprocate our sensibilities, but they are all too willing to exploit them. For instance, they are none too concerned to pronounce English words correctly, or even learn the language at all, but they will correct us haughtily for mangling their dialect.
That’s because they probably think it condescending and contemptible for us to try to speak to them in their own language. And it is: We are the hosts. They are the parasites. We created this country. They are invaders. They are trying to take advantage of a system they could never have created and can only destroy—and we will have to work even harder to pick up the pieces and clean up the mess, so they can exploit us once more.
In stooping to their level, we are patronizing them. It is they who should be sucking up to us, trying to please us, worrying about our opinion of them, not the reverse. We are going out of our way to cater to them; we are making them feel comfortable in their ignorance, stupidity, and sloth. Instead we should be rounding them up by the millions and sending them home. But the invaders don’t seem to be the least bit worried about that.
White people need to stop making the invaders comfortable and start making them worry. And now, thanks to TV, I know what to say: “Just go!”
“MEEEster, wheeech way is . . .”
“MEEEster . . .”
“No, it’s ‘mister.’”
“MEEEster . . .”
At this point, you must sigh audibly and then firmly say, “Just go!”
It’s so simple even George W. Bush could do it—if he really, really concentrates and tries hard.
“Just go!” simplifies the immigration debate immensely. It is the intellectual equivalent of keeping your eye on the ball. No matter what the alien says, always keep firmly in mind that in the end, he must “just go.”
For instance, a friend in the Bay Area recently saw a T-shirt saying “Deportation Breaks up Families.” He is a big-hearted and earnest guy, and he found the point challenging. When he asked my opinion, I just focused my mind on the bottom line: “Just go!” The answer became clear: “Then send the whole damn family back!”
After all, immigration breaks up families too. Instead of using family unity as an excuse for more immigration, let’s use it as an excuse for more thorough deportations. “What, your grandmother is still in MaNEEELA? Well, we’re sending you all back to keep her company. Just go!”
The fact that a two-edged sword like family unity has been used for decades as a tool for chain immigration rather than mass deportation demonstrates three things: the intellectual flimsiness of the pro-immigration advocates, the intellectual flabbiness of mainstream conservative critics of immigration like Pat Buchanan, and why it was necessary for the establishment to marginalize radical and principled opponents of non-White immigration like Sam Francis. Non-White immigration cannot stand up to even cursory criticism, once White men focus their minds on the bottom line: “Just go!”
It is not the last word in the immigration debate, but it should be.
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