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The Making of an American Trav

“I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

3,923 words

I’m not going to claim that I have been totally 1488 from day one or that I came goose-stepping out of the womb. But I think I have always been instinctively and intuitively a race realist. Or at least, I have been since around the age of 8. The first black person I ever met was this kid named Scooter when I was in kindergarten. This would have been in the early 80s.

Scooter wasn’t his real name. It was a nickname whose origin was shrouded in mystery. It was what his family called him and what he preferred to be called over his real name, which was one of those newfangled exotic black names. Scooter was the only black kid in my grade and one of maybe 6 black kids in my otherwise entirely white elementary school. His dad was a doctor and his family was loaded.

Scooter was on my soccer team. He was a genuinely nice kid and well-liked by everyone. A real credit to his race. If anything, all the white kids were intensely fascinated by him. Before Scooter, most of us had only ever seen black people on TV, and seeing one in real life was something new. We knew little about blacks, but we knew that they tended to be good at sports and so we hoped that having a genuine black person on our team might give us some kind of edge over the competition. Scooter would be our secret weapon. It didn’t turn out like that. Scooter was not a significantly better athlete than the rest of us and we lost every game that year.

I was briefly friends with Scooter and went to his house once. Very nice place, and his collection of Star Wars toys dwarfed even mine. However, while we were in the same grade, we ended up in different classes, and so we quickly drifted apart through no fault on either side.

My first impression of blacks was, therefore, actually quite positive. Had I remained in that sleepy little Kansas town where my interactions with blacks were limited to the middle-class children of talented 10ths, my worldview today might be very different than it is now. But at the end of 2nd grade, something happened that would change my life forever. My dad sat us down and told us that he had been transferred at his job and we were all moving to St. Louis. The next three years would radically and irreversibly change my perspective on race and I would never be the same again.

Let’s talk about desegregation bussing.

Once upon a time, American schools were racially segregated. But then segregation ended, and black kids were allowed to start going to the white schools. There was a lot of hope that if the black kids could learn around the white kids at the “good schools” with the “good teachers,” maybe the white people’s good habits would rub off on the black kids. Well, the joke was on them! Once the blacks started going to white schools, white flight kicked in, and within a few years, all the schools de facto segregated again.

So their solution to the problem was desegregation bussing. If whites were going to run from the black kids, well, they were just gonna bring the black kids to them. So they started bussing “underprivileged” black children from the war-torn ghettos out to the lily-white suburbs. In some cities, the opposite also occurred: in addition to bussing black kids to white schools, they also bussed unlucky random white kids out to inner-city schools so they could serve as role models for the black kids there. In some cities this was compulsory, a deeply unpopular practice called “forced bussing.”

In other places, it was voluntary and blacks would apply for this bussing program. This was the case in St. Louis, and they were mostly bussing black kids to white schools. A much smaller number of white kids went in the other direction to magnet schools. St. Louis only got around to ending the bussing program a couple of years ago.

This was supposed to have two effects. The blacks were supposed to pick up good habits from the white kids but they also expected the white kids, upon meeting the black youths, to quickly learn that we weren’t all that different after all and this would totally BTFO racism. Now, I don’t know about any other school. But my school? That. Did. Not. Happen.

If you were trying to create a government program for the specific purpose of turning white kids racist, I don’t think you could come up with a much better idea than desegregation bussing. If they had sat all us white kids down and forced us to watch an hour of Jared Taylor videos every day, I don’t think we would have ended up as racist as we actually did.

Now, the blacks in St. Louis are particularly vicious and dysfunctional, even by black standards. Everyone in St. Louis is at least somewhat redpilled on blacks. That’s not to say everyone in St. Louis is “based” or “racist.” But everyone in St. Louis knows that there are certain parts of town you don’t go to, because if you do, there is a very good chance you will be killed. By blacks. No one is under any illusions about that. People joke about it. Particularly East St. Louis. Ice Cube once wrote a song about the blacks in St. Louis.

Granted, everyone probably thinks that about their blacks. I’m sure plenty of people will read the paragraph above and think “Oh, you think the blacks in St. Louis are bad? You should come to Detroit/New Orleans/Baltimore/Little Rock/Dallas. The blacks we have here are really fucked up!”

Even black people themselves do this. I mean, what were the 1990s coastal rap wars if not a bunch of blacks from New York and a bunch of blacks from Los Angeles arguing with each other about who was more violent, criminal, and nihilistic than who?

“I used to sell crack on the street corners of Brooklyn and I would murder anyone who tried to move in on my turf!”

“Oh yeah? Well, out here in Los Angeles, I was in the Crips and we used to do drive-by shootings of people just for wearing the wrong color bandana!”

“I used to do armed robbery!”

“I used to pimp hoez!”

“I used to pimp hoez and then armed robbery them!”

“I used to pimp hoez, armed robbery them, and then kill them!”

Everyone thinks they have the worst blacks. In a way, they are all right. But St. Louis can make a serious claim to having worse-than-average blacks. East St. Louis (which is technically across the river in Illinois) regularly shows up in Worst Cities in America lists. It ranks supreme as the most dangerous city to live in. If you are driving through East St. Louis at night and your car breaks down, you had best start praying because there is a good chance you will not live to see daylight again. Forget foxholes. There are no atheists in East St. Louis.

View of the Gateway Arch from East St. Louis.

When I strolled into my first day of class in 3rd grade, I was somewhat apprehensive, being a new kid. All the other kids knew each other from having gone to school together from K-2. Would I seem strange to them? Well, I didn’t need to worry. For as strange and alien as I may have been, I could not possibly have seemed as strange and alien as the other new kids. There were about 6 other black kids in my class (about 20 in my grade) who had been bussed in from the inner city, and it didn’t take long for me to realize these kids were nothing like Scooter back in Kansas. These kids were absolutely feral. Maybe if someone had adopted them as infants and raised them, things might have been different. But even by age 8, the ghetto seemed hardwired into them and there was no hope of whitening them up.

For one, they spoke this strange, broken English, and used slang that I had never heard before. Now, a lot of blacks are bilingual. They might “talk black” at home and among friends, but when they need to (say, during a job interview or a police encounter), they can flip a switch and “talk white” with varying degrees of success. But a high percentage of St. Louis blacks are monolingual. They can only speak black. I’ve always found monolingual blacks puzzling. You would think that they would at least be able to pick some stuff up off TV.

I remember that some of us white kids would start laughing when the black kids would talk. In hindsight, that seems rather rude of us, but we couldn’t help it. We had never heard anyone talk like that before. This was in the days before gangsta rap brought ghetto speak to the suburbs. I had heard “jive” before in movies, particularly in the movie Airplane. But jive was kind of charming and had an endearing rhythmic quality. This was completely different. It was more guttural and their accents were so thick as to be almost unintelligible.

I remember one time, this kid Deanton threatened violence against one of the kids in my group of friends. He said “I’ll steal you ‘cross your head, boy!” But rather than feeling intimidated or threatened, we all busted out laughing. We had no idea what “steal you ‘cross your head” even meant, but it sounded funny. It seems like a very silly way to threaten someone. I’m sure where he came from, “I steal you ‘cross your head” came off with an air of foreboding. But out in the suburbs, threatening to “steal someone across their head” sounded to us like a comically absurd word salad.

There were, as you would expect, constant classroom distractions. We became very familiar with the “dindu nuffin’” meme. The black kids would be doing something that they weren’t supposed to be doing, the teacher would call them out on it (“Deanton, you’re pulling on that girl’s hair!”), to which he would respond “No, I ain’t! I wasn’t doin’ nuttin!” They were quick to anger and unpredictable. They got into fights, but thankfully no one really has enough upper body strength to cause that much bodily harm to anyone else at age 8.

But what was most painfully obvious to everyone was that the blacks were clearly not as smart as the white kids. It took them longer to learn every lesson. Sometimes, the teacher would have to sit down with one of the black kids for an extra half an hour to help them learn the lesson we learned in 10 minutes. It held the whole class up. Just having these kids around slowed the rest of us white kids down, and I’m sure being around us white kids made the black kids feel insecure and dumb.

All the white kids started to deeply resent having the black kids around. The white girls didn’t seem to get along with the undainty black girls any better than the white boys got along with the black boys. Every once in a while, an outcast white would buddy up with an outcast black, but for the most part, little socializing occurred between us. We didn’t like each other. We had nothing in common with each other. We didn’t understand why the grown-up world was making us go through this. It seemed like a sick joke. We could see that whatever effect they were hoping this would have, it was clearly not happening.

By 5th grade, every white kid in my class was racist. One kid in my group of friends (oddly, a Jewish kid) actually became rather obsessed with hating blacks. Most of us would be annoyed with them while at school, but would forget about them at the end of the day. But this kid. . . We’d be hanging out and he would constantly say “God, I hate those blacks so much! They’re just so stupid!”

For their part, the black kids didn’t want to be there any more than the white kids wanted them there. The commute was insanely long and they didn’t fit in. Now, there were a few black kids who seemed to understand what was up. They understood that they were given a special opportunity to learn at a good school with no crack dealers where they didn’t have to worry about getting shot, an opportunity that their parents never had. These kids took the opportunity seriously. But these kids were the exception. Most of the black kids just didn’t want to be there.

I did feel really, really bad for the black kids in one way. They didn’t get to watch cartoons. We now live in an age where there are multiple 24-hour cable channels entirely dedicated to cartoons, and if that is not enough, you can watch an infinite amount of cartoons online. But in the 80s, cartoons were much more precious. They were like a treat. Before school, you got an hour of low-grade Japanese animation (Voltron and Saber Rider, sometimes Speed Racer) and two hours of American animation after school (Transformers, G.I. Joe, M.A.S.K., and Duck Tails). After that, all TV was geared towards teens and grown-ups.

But the black kids had to catch the bus at 5:30 or 6 in the morning, before the morning cartoons began, and they didn’t get home until 5 or 6, after the afternoon cartoons had ended. They just didn’t get to watch cartoons. So when everyone got to school the next day, all us white kids would be talking about yesterday’s Transformers episode, and the black kids couldn’t join in the discussion because they were still on the bus at that time. I’m sure they resented the hell out of us for that.

It just seemed so fucking cruel to me. Cartoons were one of the best parts about being a kid, and thanks to this naïve hair-brained bussing scheme, the black kids didn’t get to watch them. It was like they were depriving these kids of part of their childhood. It was bad enough that they had to endure the brutal commute to go to a school where they didn’t fit in and had few if any friends, but then they also didn’t get to watch cartoons. If they had been able to watch cartoons, we might have had at least something to bond over. I guess they could still watch Saturday morning cartoons, but by Monday morning, Saturday was a distant memory.

Now, I was not politically aware at the time and not one for things in terms of “the grand scheme,” but it started to dawn on me that I was being lied to by society. Well, maybe not all of society; it was still common in those days to hear frank talk about race from grown-ups.

Political correctness was not the thing back then that it is now. You heard people say that “all races are the same,” or “all men are created equal,” but I don’t think anyone actually meant it. I always assumed that was just some bullshit that people said for the benefit of blacks to make them feel better. You weren’t actually supposed to believe it. It was a way of being polite, but we all knew the score. It was kind of like being nice to the retarded kid. You treat the retarded kid like he’s not retarded, but everyone knows he’s retarded. Back then, PC was like that. It was just being polite. It would be until decades later that I would encounter people would say shit like “we’re all the same” and actually believe it.

So society was more bullshitting me than outright lying to me. But it was bullshit that I assumed was being done with a wink and a nod.

That said, I was definitely being lied to by the media.

There were two big black-themed shows on at the time that were marketed towards a young white audience. The premise of both was the same: a wealthy white family adopts black kids and learns to love them like they were their own children. One was Diff’rent Strokes, starring Gary Coleman. Coleman played Arnold Jackson, an adorable orphaned black child with lightning-quick wit who always had the perfect zinger. Arnold was mostly white-presenting, except when delivering his signature catchphrase, “whatchoo talkin’ about, Willis?” which he said with comical ethnic sass. The other was Webster, a Diff’rent Strokes knock-off, starring the preposterously cute cherub-faced Emmanuel Lewis as the title character. Webster was like a less funny version of Arnold Jackson, but what Webster lacked in wit, he made up for in wholesomeness. That was his shtick. Webster was the avatar of childlike innocence. His soul was as pure as the driven snow. Lil’ Webster wouldn’t say boo to a goose.

A lot of the episodes of these shows revolved around some white person’s racism. But by the end of the episode, that white person is either shown to be an ignorant buffoon or they learn the error of their ways and learn that their initial “racist” assumptions were totally wrong and that the black kids were actually totally swell.

Later came The Cosby Show, about a middle-class black family who acted exactly like white people, where race was a never issue. It became the biggest show in the country.
I was struck by the stark contrast of how blacks were presented in these shows versus my own experiences with blacks in the real world. I started to get annoyed at these shows. Then I started getting angry at them. I’d watch them and think “That’s. Not. What. They’re. Like!!!!

I knew there were nice blacks. Scooter was a nice kid. But by that time, I had only met one Scooter and I had met 30 Deantons. I knew there were a lot more Deantons in the world than there were Scooters. But Deanton was never shown in any of these shows. Not accurately, anyway. According to TV, blacks were all a bunch of Scooters. I could tell the TV was trying to trick me. And I had a sense that had I not moved to St. Louis when I did, and were it not for the desegregation bussing program, the trick probably would have worked. And in that sense, I was grateful for the experience.

A brief aside here.

It turned out that the cast members of Diff’rent Strokes had, in fact, a lot more in common with Deanton than with Scooter. Gary Coleman would eventually become a drug addict, and get arrested for assault and domestic violence multiple times. Todd Bridges, who played Coleman’s brother Willis, spent some time in the late 80s and 90s as a full-on crack dealer. He was once put on trial for murdering a rival crack dealer but was found not guilty after a witness testified that he wasn’t there.

At the end of 5th grade, my family moved again. For the rest of my school days, my only contact with blacks was with housebroken middle-class children of talented 10ths. But those three years of experience with desegregation bussing let me know that those kids were exceptional. I knew what real blacks were like.

More than anything, those three years completely inoculated me to media propaganda about race. Even 90s hood movies like Boyz n the Hood or Menace II Society seemed overly-sanitized to me. “Well, I can understand what that character is saying. So, no. This is not a realistic portrayal of blacks in the hood. Real hood blacks are unintelligible.”

Another thing that has always annoyed me over the years is the liberal trope that racists all learn racism from their parents. Liberals like to say that “no one is born racist.” It’s not entirely true, by the way. Infants as young as 6 months old show racial bias. But the trope is that because no one is born racist, it has to be taught.

The implication is that if you meet a racist, that means that at some point in that guy’s youth, his dad sat him down and said “Look here, Billy. Here’s why you should hate niggers.” And of course, that guy’s dad received the same speech from his dad who received the same speech from his dad who received the same speech from his dad ad infinitum going all the way back to some point in history when some guy started hating blacks for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

Now, I don’t know about anyone else in my class, but I never received such a speech from my parents. I doubt any of us did. No one had to tell us that blacks were dumb, impulsive, quick to anger, unpredictable, and all the rest. All you had to do was wheel some honest-to-God ghetto blacks into our school and us kids were easily able to figure that out all by ourselves. No one had to tell us.

That’s kind of a dead trope now. With the rise of the Alt-Right, everyone knows that it is possible to become radicalized on the internet. But that trope had a lot of currency until relatively recently. The first line of Dylann Roof’s manifesto was “I did not come from a racist family.” He knew that would be most people’s kneejerk interpretation.

But the spirit of that trope lives on; the idea that if someone is racist, it’s because someone else told them to be racist. The idea that anyone could become racist through personal experience and observation is completely inconceivable to liberals. Well, conceive it, baby. I can tell you that it is entirely possible.

Now, I won’t say that I’ve been a white nationalist since 3rd grade. I did suffer from some delusions that if we tinkered with the system somewhat, that maybe we could close the racial gaps. If we could get rid of welfare, it would force blacks to pull up their bootstraps. If we could untie the invisible hand of the free market, it could work its magic and lift blacks out of their squalor.

I never believed that blacks could achieve socioeconomic parity with whites. I knew whites had some x-factor that blacks lacked. Even before I knew anything about bell curves, I knew whites were smarter than blacks and would always be doing somewhat better. But I still thought that if we tinkered with the education system, somehow we could smarten them up some. Not white smart, but smart enough to where they would be good enough for jazz. I had some hope that maybe something could be done to get things to a manageable level to where blacks were at least not a burden on society.

It wasn’t until I discovered race realism and the writings of John Derbyshire that it started to dawn on me just how hopeless the race situation really was. This was around 2004. Now here I am.

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  1. Winston Smith
    Posted July 7, 2020 at 8:03 am | Permalink

    I think we might be similar age here, I grew to in 80s, I always understood the differences and knew media was lying to me. I finally came across an essay by Lawrence Auster and something went bing in my head.
    Great article.

  2. Dr ExCathedra
    Posted July 7, 2020 at 8:19 am | Permalink

    Synchronicity, Mr Smith!

    Reading Mr LeBlanc’s article reminded me of these words of Auster’s, initially quite shocking in their bluntness and then absolutely clarifying in their truthfulness:

    “The sacralization of blacks in our culture is both the opposite of what blacks deserve, and the principal expression of white Americans’ will to national and racial suicide.

    The truth is that whites live under the tyranny of a false ideology that demonizes them as racists and aims at their collective harm; and that whites dare not publicly oppose this ideology, even with relatively mild statements, because of the fear of more particular harms that would come to them individually for doing so.

    If whites could see the truth that black incapacity/disorder is not whites’ fault but is inherent in blacks themselves, it could literally save the country, by freeing whites from their suicidal guilt.”

    L. Auster

    (bolding mine)

    • Posted July 7, 2020 at 12:39 pm | Permalink

      “It’s not your fault.” Those were the words that cured me of being a liberal, a very long time ago.

  3. Steerpike
    Posted July 7, 2020 at 9:03 am | Permalink

    Wasn’t Auster ethnically Jewish, even if he converted to Christianity? I find it a trend that when Jews do become red pilled on race they turn very outspoken and often much meaner on the issue than we would ever be, much like the boy in Travs article.

    I didn’t come out of the womb saying the fourteen words either, but I comprehended issues more or less as I encountered them to the degree of my cognitive understanding at that stage of development. I am from a small town in the Deep South, so I had lots of early experience with blacks, but our classes were stratified by student ability, so blacks were predominantly grouped in this third slow class, from which there was this constant low grade rumble, it seemed to me, objects flying above the transom every now and then. I might even have been a little slow on things like the JQ even though I went to a very neocon Jewish school for college and graduate school. Looking back the issues were there, though I was not attuned to it. I was usually unaware that a given person was Jewish until they told me. But that the system was against us and that racial differences were real was always broadly obvious to me is what I mean, I guess. The other puzzle pieces just clicked right in as I learned them.

    • Steerpike
      Posted July 9, 2020 at 4:55 am | Permalink

      But for the situation I’m in actually, I probably never would have broached the JQ and stayed in amren/vdare territory. I’m really conformist at bottom.

  4. Some White Guy
    Posted July 7, 2020 at 9:32 am | Permalink

    The people who blither on about racial egalitarian ideals are the ones who have never lived near, worked with or gone to school around ghetto blacks. They are the ones who think all blacks are like the Cosby Family on TV. There is something to be said for real life experiences. Once anyone has an actual encounter with feral blacks, it becomes difficult to continue playing pretend about them.

  5. Dalton Fury
    Posted July 7, 2020 at 1:35 pm | Permalink

    It’s shocking how racial reality and how blacks are presented on the electric Jew differ so much. Terrific article.

  6. Don
    Posted July 7, 2020 at 3:19 pm | Permalink

    I had my first encounter with blacks in college and what an eye opener. They have no concept of the most basic norms of civilized behavior. No concept of waiting to be recognized but just blurt out regardless of what else is happening. They just blurt out and talk as loudly as they want. Total disruption. Another thing. They’re not very interested in doing any real work, such as research, reading even the most basic assigned material.

    I don’t think they process information the same way white people do. In so many ways, they just “don’t compute.”

  7. Posted July 7, 2020 at 7:03 pm | Permalink

    It seems that the cleavage within the white population starts to occur during whenever students get put in different classes. Depending on the school district, this is usually sometime around 6th grade for American students. The students who are bound for white collar jobs are put in AP/honors courses, gifted programs, and the more academically-minded after school programs. Even those who spend their time practicing sports will usually gravitate towards more white-dominated sports (lacrosse, swimming). In these environments, they are likely to only encounter a tiny fraction of the most intelligent, well-behaved, and conformist blacks.

    People who are in classrooms (and later jobs) with direct exposure to low-functioning blacks are in an environment where pretending that race is skin deep is an obvious absurdity.

  8. Brian
    Posted July 7, 2020 at 8:44 pm | Permalink

    Lazy whites want someone to be compared to,so black sub-culture is used see I’m not as bad as them. Privilege whites use blacks as pets ,. everyone that came to the new world gave up to fit into a white,christan, English, society. But blacks did not have that desire to fit in , because at first they did not have a chance to ,then it was in defiance ,now it is not a thought to fit into a white society

  9. Dale Gribble
    Posted July 8, 2020 at 4:03 am | Permalink

    Left the Army in mid 80s and moved to St Louis for graduate school. An apartment rental representative is showing us a few apartments around and of course almost all are in Black neighborhoods.
    We drive up to one and theres a huge party right in the middle of the street with rap booming out of an automobile.
    The apartment broker chimes in, “and the blacks here are very sociable.”

  10. Peter Quint
    Posted July 8, 2020 at 6:48 am | Permalink

    ” But this kid. . . We’d be hanging out and he would constantly say “God, I hate those blacks so much! They’re just so stupid!”

    This behavior is what the great English writer, Hector Hugh Munro (Saki) would call “protective mimicry.” He was a great critic of the jews, until they killed him in WWII.

    • Steerpike
      Posted July 8, 2020 at 8:51 am | Permalink

      I wish you would elaborate and offer some references on sakis antisemitism. Why did they name him after rice wine is what I wanna know.

      • Peter Quint
        Posted July 9, 2020 at 7:00 am | Permalink

        “One theory, noted by scholar Emlyn Williams in his introduction to a Saki anthology, is that the name refers to a cup bearer in the poem “Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyam.”

        I am currently reading the best works of Saki in a “Library Of Essential Writers” edition, and the above scholar gave that reason in the introduction. As for examples of anti-Semitic remarks, there are too many to be quoted–you just need to read the book. Did I say WWII, I should have said WWI–that is when the jews killed him. I tried to google the poetic quotation, but I could not find it, anyhow Emlyn Williams gives it in the introduction, and I left the book at home.

      • Peter Quint
        Posted July 10, 2020 at 6:45 am | Permalink

        Correction, Richard Bleiler does the introduction in my book.

  11. james
    Posted July 8, 2020 at 7:11 am | Permalink

    This article , honest and forthright , should easily reflect the sentiments of most all American whites.Only those not wanting to “offend” could possibly disagree.And this would be called lying to one’s heart. Reality should not be concealed just to spare someone else’s feelings.Isn’t this why so many whites are afraid to say what they really feel? Propaganda works.

  12. J.R. Phillips
    Posted July 8, 2020 at 11:06 am | Permalink

    This was a funny and truthful article that really resonated with me. Move the setting to the Northeast and make it about ten years earlier and this was my story, as well. Virtually all the white children I was in school with in this district (from 5th to 9th grade) were “racist” – not because anyone told us to be so, but because we experienced black behavior every day. I got a good laugh over Kamala Harris chiding Joe Biden over his opposition to busing during the Democratic primaries earlier this year. Did she have any idea what racial attitudes it actually instilled in those of us subject to it?

    Nothing was more influential in establishing my beliefs than those five years in forcibly integrated schools. I didn’t like it then, but I’m grateful for it now. Not only did make me a race realist, it served as a vaccine against all forms of liberalism and liberal authority. When the authorities are telling you that blacks are oppressed and had established great empires in the past while you see how stupid and thuggish most of them are, it makes everything they say suspect. Maybe I would have turned out like this anyway, but busing and the attempts to justify it accelerated the process greatly and gave me personal experience in the falsehood of liberalism and equality I never would have had if they had just left me alone in my white neighborhood schools.

  13. Petronius
    Posted July 8, 2020 at 3:36 pm | Permalink

    Looked up these adopted cute black kids TV shows on Youtube, and they are embarrassingly phoney.

    I’m from an European country with no Blacks at all back in the 1980s and 1990s. Some American shows were aired here in dubbed versions. As a kid “Cosby Show” seemed simply like “Family Ties” with a black cast to me. Unlike the latter I disliked the former for the simple reason that I couldn’t really emotionally relate to a black family (not that I was able to reflect on this though). Otherwise I accepted that they were “just like us”, only with different looks. White middle class Americans also were “just like us” in my mind, only a bit cooler actually.

  14. orionyx
    Posted July 8, 2020 at 6:32 pm | Permalink

    Robert Burns wrote a poem about the contrast between the Stuart and the Hanoverian monarchs. In it he said of the Stuarts “Fools ay, rogues never”. But of the Hanoverians he said “Who know them best despise them most”.

    And that really sums up all you have to know about Blacks.

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    Green Nazis in Space!

    Truth, Justice, and a Nice White Country

    Heidegger in Chicago

    The End of an Era

    Sexual Utopia in Power

    What is a Rune? & Other Essays

    Son of Trevor Lynch's White Nationalist Guide to the Movies

    The Lightning & the Sun

    The Eldritch Evola

    Western Civilization Bites Back

    New Right vs. Old Right

    Lost Violent Souls

    Journey Late at Night: Poems and Translations

    The Non-Hindu Indians & Indian Unity

    Baader Meinhof ceramic pistol, Charles Kraaft 2013

    Jonathan Bowden as Dirty Harry

    The Lost Philosopher, Second Expanded Edition

    Trevor Lynch's A White Nationalist Guide to the Movies

    And Time Rolls On

    The Homo & the Negro

    Artists of the Right

    North American New Right, Vol. 1

    Some Thoughts on Hitler

    Tikkun Olam and Other Poems

    Under the Nihil

    Summoning the Gods

    Hold Back This Day

    The Columbine Pilgrim

    Confessions of a Reluctant Hater

    Taking Our Own Side

    Toward the White Republic

    Distributed Titles


    The Node

    The New Austerities

    Morning Crafts

    The Passing of a Profit & Other Forgotten Stories

    Gold in the Furnace