The Emergence of White Supremacy in Indian Country

From The Angry Indian. Though five years old, it is even more relevant now than when it was written. Here in Europe and especially Germany you can find Afro-, Arab- and Turkish-Germans who are out-and-out Nazis. As Baldwin once said, “you can’t tell a black man by the color of his skin.”

One important point that the writer brings up is that social marginalization pushes more than a few confused black, brown, red and yellow people to embrace white supremacist ideology of the most extreme kind. I tend to be extremely harsh on them. One would wish that harsh words will shock them into recognition of their own misguided impulses.

But I also realize that the majority of these brain-dead are grown men and women who are capable of exercising better judgment, even if–to be very honest–most of these black/brown/yellow/red Nazis are deeply hurt people. Hitler, for instance, was also a deeply hurt and troubled man whose own DNA reveals him to be of North African origin. The same goes for J. Edgar Hoover and, perhaps, the most recent addition to the rogues gallery of not-so-white white supremacists, Yehuda Glick. (Glick is a Jewish far-right extremist who has recently forged ties with Heinz-Christian Strache, the neo-Nazi shit-lord of Austria’s Freedom Party.)

Modern AfroIndio Times

TheAngryindian [3.26.2005]

‘The law of existence requires uninterrupted killing … so that the better may live’.

– Jeffery Weise quoting Adolf Hitler

I think it is a safe bet to assume that Ward Churchill is sitting at home dragging on a cigarette while watching CNN and saying to himself, “I told you so.” It seems that chickens are coming home to roost in Indian Country and no one seems to know what to make of it. Akin to how American Africans view the Malvo-Muhammad killing spree, Indians are asking the same questions; why would a young reservation Native American male embrace neo-Nazism and go on a murderous rampage killing not only his schoolmates but also a part-time security guard and his own grandfather?

The 21st century has been particularly hard on American Indians and in the arena of crime, it seems that catching up to the Jones’ has taken on…

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So, the motherfucker called African and Caribbean nations shitholes…

via …And Still, They Voted NOT to Impeach this Idiot.


Jungle Cancer

Right now I am not going to speak on this because really, I don’t have the time and I’ve already spoken on this illness before in a different context. Read the post on the Brazilian coon I called out. In the meantime I (once again) re-post the article about the horrors of the Third World’s elite and middle-class–especially the shits residing in Europe.


Here we have a Kenyan coon (Terry Mango) living in–irony of ironies–Stockholm, Sweden, who has cosigned with H & M over an unbelievably stupid ad in which her little boy is advertising a green hoodie, on which the words “COOLEST MONKEY IN THE JUNGLE” are emblazoned.


I will say a few things. Terry Mango saw nothing wrong with the hoodie because (according to her) black Americans should not get their knickers in a twist (no pun intended) over what she imagines to be a trivial issue. Africa has to deal with starvation, extreme poverty and social/economic/political oppression. The only problem with this assumption is that this ad serves to reinforce the notion that Africans are just primitive monkeys, and therefore deserving of being starved, exploited, oppressed, beaten, shot, raped, eaten, etc.

I know I’ve said something earlier about the pathological levels of coonism among European blacks as well as American blacks. In fact the levels are probably higher here in Europe. European blacks may not want to hear it, but it’s so palpable that they (Euro-blacks) have no comeback. Late last year in my neighborhood I saw an Afro-German coming down my way on Hobrechtstrasse. When I nodded to him (out of some misguided solidarity) he glared at me and spat on the ground in disgust. This happens all the time; in fact I got the very same reaction when I marched with Black Lives Matter here in Berlin, a year and a half ago!!

Even semi-conscious rappers such as T.I. and clownish buffoons like Plies don’t like it. That’s saying something. Plies is a direct throwback to Stepinfetchit, the main difference being that Lincoln Perry wasn’t Stepinfetchit. Plies really is Plies.

auf Deutsch:

PS: my corduroy H & M jacket is going in the trash.

via On the Unrelenting Horror that is the Third World


“NATE”–Now available at Amazon

#Nate #BlackWriterInBerlin

Those of you who always wanted to read this book can now get it at Amazon, on Kindle.

A new paperback version is also in the making.

I felt compelled to reissue Nate because the issues it deals with have not only NOT gone away, but have become even more pertinent today than they were in the 1980s and 1990s. I put the finishing touches on this book in 1998, but the overall text was done by December of 1996. Nothing, as far as I can see, has really changed at all in the past two decades, unless it’s for the worse.

Everything that YouTube bloggers have been ranting and raving about these past few years–the gender wars between black men and women, so-called “alpha male” and “beta male” syndromes (particularly the latter, and especially concerning black men), coonery, thuggery, gang violence, the whole so-called “ratchet” mentality, etc. It also deals with the buffoonery that infests HBCUs, and I guess that my ridicule of black university life (represented in the novel by the now-notorious Coon State University) got underneath the skin of more than a few black readers of Nate–those who bothered to read it, that is.

Someone on who reviewed the book (who called himself “Thumper”) panned the book, calling it “used dishwater going down the drain.” Other black critics decried the lack of plot and took me to task for not creating “likable” characters. Ishmael Reed, Darryl Dickson-Carr, Darius James and many other writers and readers have thought otherwise.

Of course, there is no “plot” in the traditional, conventional sense. Nate is a picaresque novel. Most Black authors (American, that is) don’t write in a picaresque style, though it is the oldest and most traditional of novel styles. The style of writing was developed in Spain, with obvious roots in Arabic/Moorish literature. Don Quixote as well as Paul Beatty’s The Sellout are picaresque. Darius James’s Negrophobia is also a picaresque novel. It is a style of narrative in which the protagonist–usually a rascal like Don Quixote or a naif like Candide–stumbles from one ridiculous episode to the next; the story is generally told in a humorous, grotesque or satirical fashion.

Nate is all of these.


Originally published in 2006, this powerful, disturbing, award-winning novel chronicles the free-wheeling mishaps of one Nathan James Morris, a talented, ambitious middle-class black kid from Prince Georges County, Maryland. At 19, he has been expelled from Freedom College for alleged misconduct. He has few friends, aside from the parasitic Guy Sellers; and save for his scholarship’s chump change, even fewer dollars. Hurt, angry, and in desperate need of cash, he joins the Marines. “The road to manhood is paved with tanks and convoys!” he loudly boasts.

But he soon discovers that his own “road” has been paved with far more unpleasant things: whimsical officers, endless bomb attacks, disease, an unbelievable desolation. After the military, his “road” gets rockier….an unhappy reuniting with family, friends and fiancee….a kidnaping in Turkey ….violent confrontations with neo-Nazis and racist North Africans….his studies and miseries at C.S.U., America’s most prestigious black university, and his final days in a DC slum, as witness to (and participant in) the wild destruction of his older brother’s marriage, with a little help from the one “friend” who never seems to leave him be: Guy Sellers.

“Lewis is an original talent whose English cuts through a lot of contemporary BS like a butcher knife….It’s important that a powerful novel such as this surfaces at a time when the black lit. scene is being smothered by a lot of dumb frivolous chick-lit and down low scribbling. Anybody want to know where the kick-behind black male literary tradition of Himes, Wright, John A. Williams went? It’s alive and well in Berlin.”

–Ishmael Reed, author of JUICE! and Barack Obama and the Jim Crow Media: Return of the Nigger Breakers

“A brutally funny novel satirizing diverse subjects from American military misadventures, African-American cultural politics, to the chaos of contemporary American life. Like the protagonists of Nathaniel West’s The Day of the Locust or Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man, the eponymous hero, Nathan James Morris, is a classic picaro, a naive everyman and would-be artist whose foolhardiness shows us more about American life and the human condition than would seem possible in one novel.”

–Darryl Dickson-Carr, Associate professor of English at Southern Methodist University and author of The Columbia Guide to Contemporary African American Fiction

#Nate #BlackWriterInBerlin

Sorry, But #JamesBond is a Wanker…

I never liked James Bond–not even as a kid–and upon further scrutiny of what Bond was supposedly fighting against (for instance, two villains named “Blofeld” and “Goldfinger” among others) confirmed my suspicions against this little fucker. Something about some suave WASP gallivanting around the world throwing money at poor wogs (like he did in India) and shooting down allegedly “dangerous” orientals at the bidding of Her Majesty’s Secret Service always rubbed me the wrong way.

Modern AfroIndio Times

Why I Quit James Bond | GQ – As Bond and J.W. Pepper continue their pursuit, the whole movie is suddenly a giant question mark. What is J.W. Pepper even doing here? He’s not in the book. James Bond met him in Live and Let Die during a speedboat chase through the bayou. At least that’s the kind of place you’d expect to find a cartoonishly inept Louisiana sheriff like him. In The Man With the Golden Gun, we’re supposed to believe J.W. Pepper went to Thailand on vacation and then a British secret agent commandeered his car for a high-speed car chase. And not just any British secret agent. The same British secret agent he met during another high-speed chase a couple of months earlier on the other side of the world. And not just any high-speed chase—a high-speed chase with a man who owns a solid-gold firearm and…

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