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.
PS: my corduroy H & M jacket is going in the trash.
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 AALBC.com 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
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.
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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With all the talk swirling around Meghan Markle (no pun intended) and her marriage to Prince Harry of England, not too many cared about Ariana Austin, an African American, and her marriage to Joel Makonnen, the great-grandson of Haile Selassie. The marriage took place after a twelve-year courtship.
Unfortunately, Joel Makonnen is not a European, therefore Madame Noire, Bossip, Black Girl Magic and all the other colored distaff social media outfits remained completely uninterested. So much for black love, right?
So much for black kings and queens, right?
It doesn’t surprise me in the least. Of course, you don’t have to be light-skinned to be a “coon.” Technically I am “light-skinned” and a “half-breed” (or some people think) but I am not a coon by any stretch of the imagination. Paris Dennard, on the other hand, is a different kettle of fish.
As for this bitch–let’s do the math.
- Her real name is Dayane Alcantara Couto de Andrade, whatever the fuck that means, but she insists upon calling herself Day McCarthy–probably because she thinks she’s Colin Flaherty’s bastard child.
- She is a self-proclaimed “socialite.” (What part of “society” or what fucking club this ignorant cooness belongs to is in question. Is it the Dennard-Petersen club or the fucking Tequila-Maigualt society?)
- She wears a conk or a weave–in other words, what other negroes call a “hair-hat.”
- She has a boob job and no behind.
- Her skin has an unhealthy pallor to it, suggesting excessive use of skin-lightening creams.
- It looks like she’s shaven off half her nose in a misguided attempt to look “white” (or Irish-American)–ironically, it only makes her look even more like a monkey than she looked before.
- She loves Trump
and probably masturbates to the motherfucker in private.
- She has a strange following on social media for some reason. It must be from guys who are overtly fond of Brazilian women, who think that every Brazilian woman is a hot piece of tail. (I can personally tell you that this is simply not true.)
- She was a Copacabana whore before fucking off to the States.
- The bitch was running a cathouse south of the Mason-Dixon line and was busted for it in 2015. (In Virginia, of all places. Figures.)
- She is a big fan of corny telenovelas, the scourge of Latin America. Two of her favorite actresses are (of course) Giovanna Ewbank (31) and Bruno Gagliasso, 35. Both of them are white, of course. But in spite of this they adopted an orphaned South African girl named Titi.
- In November 2016, Miss Andrade (Irish NOT!!) was outraged that the girl was so dark and African-looking–something she clearly hates about herself, which explains why she looks like a Charro wannabe–and so she took to social media and spat the following words–“I wanted to understand the false ones, the brown-nosers, who criticize me for my appearance, for not having blue eyes, straight hair and a beautiful, fine nose, as society imposes this kind of beauty. But they stay there on Bruno Gagliasso’s Instagram complimenting that macaca. A menina é preta, tem o cabelo horrível de pico de palha(The girl is black, she has horrible hay-tipped hair). And she has a nariz de preto (black nose), horrible, and the people say the girl is beautiful! You’re only kissing up to them because she’s adopted by celebrities. A daughter she is not. As if two white people, with light eyes, are going to have a black daughter with hay hair and a black nose. Ah, ridiculous people, huh?”
Ms. Ewbank and Mr. Gagliasso responded by pressing charges against “Ms. McCarthy”. “Good Sunday with LOVE and the purity of a child to everyone who has sent us messages about what happened, racism is a crime, and we are already taking due steps before the law. Thank you,” wrote Ewbank.
Mr. Gagliasso upped the ante with a slapback, publishing a photo of Angela Davis with her quote, “In a racist society, it is not enough not to be racist, it is necessary to be anti-racist.”
AN AFTERWORD: COONS, COONS, COONS!!
So how would that explain my calling Ms. Andrade a “coon,” then?
Simple: she IS a coon–of the Portuguese kind.
Coons come in all shades, colors and nationalities. Even all races. Tila Tequila, who thinks she’s Viennese, is a Vietnamese coon. Jeanine Pirro, who thinks she’s Italian, is a Lebanese coon par excellence. Sean Hannity is an Irish coon–a lace-curtain Irish mick. The unfunny Andrew Dice Clay, like the late Andrew Breitbart or the Prime Minister of Israel, is a Jewish coon. The motherfucker who destroyed net neutrality in the United States is a coon of South Asian extraction. And we all know Milo is just one big right-wing homosexual minstrel show, all unto himself.
If the bitch (McCarthy) is reading this and finds herself “triggered” well then: fuck you and your mother, paper-bag coon. You get back what you put out.
So now she admits that she too is a Negro and that she herself has suffered from racist abuse, that they called her “Michael Jackson nose” and “black monkey”–which she claims, and is probably right, knowing the type of crowd she wishes to be a part of. “I also had a lot of bullying at school because I was poor because I was fat, because I was ugly, I always went to the police station and nobody listened to me,” she whines.
Yep–she’s a “victim.” I, too, was abused. #MeToo. That’s why I called you a monkey. The favorite alibi of self-hating darkies the world over¹. Aggression-frustration theory, you dig.
“I was born with this racist thought, and I think it should be talked about. Of course, this is something you can control and not speak. But, you think this, for me it’s the same thing, it’s still racism,” Andrade says.
But at the end of the day, dago, Titi looks better than you did when you were a girl, and will probably look a hell of a lot better than you do now when she grows up–providing Brazil will let her grow up.
There are so many coons out there who are bojangling and bootlicking for ole massa that you can’t even count ’em all. There are local coons and national coons and there are international coons. I didn’t even want to talk about those shits today because I recently woke up from a nightmare involving coons–and of the female variety, who are among the worst.
We already know about male coons such as Jesse Lee Petersen, who thinks racism doesn’t exist, or Sheriff David
Darkie Clarke, or that idiot who hosts ATLAH Worldwide–a coon so outrageous that I won’t even say his name. Vintage coons like Ken Hamblin, who made a name for himself in the late eighties by referring to black neighborhoods as “darktown,” or highly erudite and sophisticated coons like Shelby Steele and John McWhoreter, bless his wittle heart. Enough of these rear-guard shines.
Inter-racism among black women is something the mass media does not like to talk about, because the mass media is too busy hiring black female racists like Amber Phillips and Omarosa (another coon) and their ilk to speak on behalf of the entire black race. They are so lost they could not find their own ass with a Michelin map, but somehow they have been given the go-ahead to represent us. They don’t represent anything except the soiled bedsheets they left behind after their masters fucked them in the face.
They are everywhere, in lock-step with their male counterpart. To quote Ayi Kwei Armah, they are a “huckster caste with the mentality of pimps,” exceptionally uncreative and completely useless. They have appropriated all of our resources, all of our power and all of our money. The question is why do we (blacks) continue to take shit from these goddamned, god-forsaken COONS? Why don’t we just get rid of them?
¹I excuse myself for reasons stated above. Fuck you.
Is Berlin still Europe’s cultural hot-spot?
Is Berlin still poor but sexy?
Is it still “funky” and “off-beat?”
Was it ever?
“Imagine a city,” writes Rory MacLean regarding
Ratchetberg Berlin. Yeah, right. Imagine Berlin…imagine the way we think it used to be. In each decade we all whined that the previous decade was better. (But when we whine today we are probably right!)
The only problem is that when you have been there for an extended period of time–and if you don’t do drugs or drink all the time–you begin to “imagine” that other cities are much the same as Berlin. In fact you begin to think the whole world is just like Berlin. Hint: It isn’t!!
Berlin invades your very last safe spaces–your heart, mind and soul–and begins to turn them inside out. The city–if you are not careful to put up a Berlin Wall around yourself to keep the crazies at bay–will mould you into grotesque shapes of its own choosing, and it will leave you fucked up, strung out and dumped somewhere in some decrepit cubby-hole in Berghain, looking and feeling something like
So for anyone in search of themselves, in search of Bohemia, or love, sex, or a career, or some sort of spiritual fulfillment, or just a better life–all I can tell them is: try Tunis instead. You could hardly do worse!
“Berlin makes the most unfavorable impression on me in general: cold, tasteless, stolid…I already hate Berlin and the Germans so much that I could kill them.”
“i have come to the decision that berlin is the least amusing place i have ever seen. it is the synonym for stupidity. i should be quite happy if i never saw the city again after today.”
–Paul Bowles, June 1931, writing from Berlin
“The city was a gigantic slum, a monstrous agglomeration of uninhabitable buildings. Merely to see its geographic extent and the degree of unrelieved poverty it represented made me feel uneasy. The aura of desperation I had found stimulating suddenly seemed ominous.”
–Paul Bowles, Without Stopping (1972)
“Berlin is a vulgar, ugly, sullenly dissipated city. After the war it plunged into an orgy that the Germans called the death dance. There is nothing attractive nor gay about the nightlife of Berlin. It is altogether revolting.”
–Ernest Hemingway, Toronto Sun, December 15, 1923.
“A stone-grey corpse.”
Matthew Josephson (1899-1978)
“It was a city marked by a kind of dreadful joy, impoverished but hopeful, crowded with an odd but at the same time quite ordinary assortment of people often barely managing to cope. At the same time, it was another, very different city, a city marked by despair and destruction, a city that would soon become, as do the cities in T.S. Eliot’s ‘Waste Land,’ utterly ‘unreal.'”
Peter Edgerly Firchow, Strange Meetings: Anglo-German Literary Encounters from 1910 to 1960
“A disgusting city, this Berlin, a place where no one believes in anything.”
“And now we come to the most lurid Underworld of all cities — that of post-war Berlin. Ever since the declaration of peace, Berlin found its outlet in the wildest dissipation imaginable. The German is gross in his immorality, he likes his Halb-Welt or underworld pleasures to be devoid of any Kultur or refinement, he enjoys obscenity in a form which even the Parisian would not tolerate.”
Netley Lucas, Ladies of the Underworld, 1927
“…a poor, keen-witted, provincial town, simple, dirty, uncivilized, and in most respects, disgusting.”
Henry Adams, 1858
“Berlin of the seventies was still in a state of transition. The well-built, prim, dull, and somewhat provincial Residenz was endeavoring with feverish energy to transform itself into a world city, a Weltstadt.“
Frederick Hamilton, British diplomat to Germany in the late 19th century
“I feel lost in Berlin. It has no resemblance to the city I had supposed it was. There was once a Berlin which I would have known, from descriptions in books–the Berlin of the last century and the beginning of the present one: a dingy city in a marsh, with rough streets, muddy and lantern-lighted, dividing straight rows of ugly houses all alike, compacted into blocks as square and plain and uniform and monotonous and serious as so many dry-goods boxes. But that Berlin has disappeared. It seems to have disappeared totally, and left no sign. The bulk of the Berlin of today has about it no suggestion of a former period. The site it stands on has traditions and a history, but the city itself has no traditions and no history. It is a new city; the newest I have ever seen. Chicago would seem venerable beside it; for there are many old-looking districts in Chicago, but not many in Berlin. The main mass of the city looks as if it had been built last week, the rest of it has a just perceptibly graver tone, and looks as if it might be six or even eight months old.”
Mark Twain, The Chicago of Europe, 1892
Though Twain went on to say considerably more positive things about Berlin in his essay, it’s clear that all the bad things that have been said about this town are all too true. What I wrote concerning Berlin (in 2012) is not only still valid but can be amended with this one fact (among others): that people who live here are becoming increasingly hostile and insane, and most of it–contrary to what I used to believe–has little to do with racism. Berlin racism necessarily manifests itself as casual, stupid and extreme because Berliners are just–dickheads. They always have been. Even in 1775!
MINORITY REPORTS (Opposing views)
Jean Giradoux: “Berlin is a garden.”(1931)
Josephine Baker, 1926: “Lights shine brighter here than in Paris!”
Josephine Baker, 1928: “Don’t say anything. I disappear. I run away.”
Berlin stinks, Berlin is dirty,
Berlin is a scandal.
Berlin is broke, Berlin has nothing,
Berlin, you can suck my ass.
From Frohnau to the Wannsee,
From Spandau to Marzahn,
I can’t stand it here, I have to get out.
Berlin, you make me sick.
The Incredible Herrengedeck, Berlin Stinkt!
Amber Phillips can read this post and shove it.
“We have to be distrustful of the ideology and the people in the class position that’re trying to serve as the spokespeople for a race that tries to socialize everyone else into their ideology. So when these women are speaking, they’re speaking from a positionality of privilege and… White supremacist backing. Because there’s no way that so many with degrees in English should somehow be in the limelight as commentators, spokespersons for the race, and policy analysts. This is a deliberate organization of Black people, especially in the last two decades, where public intellectualism has become overwhelmingly conservative, hell-bent on propagating White liberalism, and fundamentally tied to the denigration and rationalization of the mass incarceration system and the demonization of Black men that takes Black men out of communities and out of homes.”1
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So The House has decided not to impeach the Orange Orangutan, after all.
Now we know–after months and months of Democrats and assorted “Independents” screaming about how “psychopathic,” “racist” and “dangerous to the world” it∗ is–that they, our self-proclaimed “real leaders,” are just as worthless, psychopathic and dangerous as the Orangutan. With all the evidence at their feet concerning Trump’s bullshit, The House of Representatives has decided not to impeach.
It’s over, folks–the country has just signed its fucking death warrant.
And frankly, I don’t feel like talking about it anymore, because nobody is listening. Nobody has listened to a damn thing any of us has been saying for over two years. Nobody listened before the election, or during the election, and they are not listening now. They raised no stink, for instance, when Bernie Sanders was casually pushed aside in favor of Hillary Clinton (another monster, and for whom we can blame much of the Libya disaster on). I realize now that Bernie Sanders was no socialist, that he was already quite old (and the task of running that country would have probably killed him, as it did more than a few presidents), and that his leftism was wafer-thin (the man supports Israel, which is morally insupportable by any standard and for very obvious reasons). But a vote for Sanders would have been a vote against Armageddon.
James Baldwin himself voted for Jimmy Carter. He said emphatically that his vote was not an endorsement of the man, but a vote against the Final Solution. Unlike today’s phony so-called “Black” intellectuals, he understood the true nature of White American (settler) Manifest Destiny and that it was almost entirely predicated upon violence–violence pushed against whatever enemies that White Americans happened to conjure up at any given moment. To White Americans, any group of people became an enemy if their skins were too dark or if they (and perhaps more importantly) held a world view and a system of reality that was at loggerheads with their own. Hence, Black, Native, Latino Americans, gays, Communists, leftist Jews (not right-wing Shylocks like Ben Shapiro, Milo and David Cole), Muslims, Chinese (before 1930) and the Japanese during World War Two have been more or less on the Klan’s enemies list. The Japanese were removed after their defeat in World War Two but made very brief reappearances in the seventies and eighties because of Murka’s failing auto industry.
Even so, the Japanese were never really at the top of Uncle Sammy’s list. The Blacks, aka niggers, coons and monkeys, always were, but the Negro intellectual can’t deal with this reality. He or she prefers to forget reality. The next eight years will probably change that, but I doubt it, at this point; this fool will probably go to Dachau with a bayonet at his back, singing “We Shall Overcome” in the boxcars.
The rest of the country, of course, is equally clueless.
It’s no use recalling that it merely took a tawdry sex scandal (something Americans love; it’s in their blood, and goes back to the good old days of the ridiculous Salem Witch Trials of the mid-1600s) for Congress to impeach former President Bill Clinton twenty years ago. And it’s no use telling people that the mindset of Congress then is scarcely different than the mindset of Congress today. Many of the same Congressmen and women from the 1990s are still there and still basking in the limelight of political and moral mediocrity. Their minds have not changed: apparently a cum-stained dress carries more moral significance than the long rap sheet of a fat bastard who made his mark as a slum-lord and swindler, whose psychopathic tendencies are well known, whose racism, sexism and antisemitism are well-known (though people insist that he himself is not, that he is merely surrounded by racists, Jew-haters and jocks who are pulling his string). Apparently the shaky testimony of Paula Jones–a supremely ugly woman not worthy even of a hillbilly like Mr. Clinton–carries more weight than a very clear recording of Trump boasting about his ability to freely stick his hand in women’s crotches. It’s not hyperbole. Why?
Today, the Orange Orangutan has declared that Jerusalem is indeed the capital of Israel. This is a supremely stupid move–no, scratch that. It is just fucking retarded. Even American Jews (for the most part) are upset. And virtually the entire Middle East–except, of course, for the Israeli leadership and the reactionaries on the streets (of whom there are quite a few)–is up in arms about Trump’s idiotic decision.
The speech he has just given is garbled and semi-coherent, at an junior-high school level and spoken with his usual ugly Bronx accent. The White House explained it away as “dry throat.” I’ve had dry throat and I know what it sounds like. Trump’s speech sounds like he was on a four-day bender. (Which he probably is, with a pile of fries and Filet O’ Fish sammiches piled up all around him.) A number of psychologists have stated that Trump exhibits clear signs of psychosis and delusions of grandeur, and that he is sociopathic and lacks empathy, and that he is perfectly capable of doing something rash enough to take us all off the planet. So why hasn’t be been impeached?
Trump hasn’t been impeached by the House because, to be blunt, the powers-that-be want him there. They want an authoritarian state. And not just paleoconservative nuts like Jeff Sessions but even a fair share of self-proclaimed “liberals”–you know, those Democrats who voted “Nay” in opposition to impeachment–as well. I suspect that Americans, collectively, have either become so indifferent to how bleak their future will be that they allowed this buffoon to get as far as he has gotten in politics–or they are so full of guilt and remorse over what America has become these past few decades–integrated neighborhoods, the so-called “Sexual Revolution,” a freer press, abortion rights, gay bathhouses, porno stores and Pakistani immigrants–that they have quietly allowed the Klan to creep further and further into center political stage.
Likewise, the powers-that-be will light a torch under the ass of Bill O’Reilly for a short while but he will be allowed back into the fold. Roy Moore, the cowboy, Bible-thumping pedophile, the Alabama Ape, is still running for office; Rick Ross, the Molly Man, the decadent, obese King Kong of Shit Hop, is still turning out generic rap hooks; Sean Hannity, a McCarthyite reject (and also accused of sexual harassment) is still on Fox. Al Franken, essentially a harmless prankster (and liberal) has to step down because apparently, the powers-that-be think that what he did far outweighs anything Hannity, Moore, Ross or Trump has ever done.
Harvey Weinstein has scumbag stamped on his forehead in bright neon letters as far as I’m concerned. I’ve heard the audio of him attempting to grope an Italian-Filipino model and it speaks for itself. Weinstein is garbage, but he’s the Democrat’s garbage. He’s the kind of bloke who gives millions to the Democratic Party when he can, which is often. Had he been a Republican one wonders if he would have received the same treatment.
Likewise, with Dustin Hoffman, Charlie Rose and the like. I’m not going to sit here and defend sexual harassment because I myself have been sexually harassed as a youth, and mostly by men. It happened in high school, and again at Howard University. These men didn’t give a shit if I wasn’t gay; they saw me as another small guy, with a cute baby face that–in their minds–spelled “pushover.” All of this is beside the point.
This new mania to out prominent people for sexual harassment can not conceal its true intentions by catching a few conservatives and hard-righters in its net. You know something is extremely wrong, politically and culturally, in that country when we slide very easily from accusing Bill Cosby and Harvey Weinstein for things they most likely did do¹ to demanding that certain works of art be removed from galleries because they are too “sexually provocative.” And from there we very well could slide into snatching certain books off the shelves that offend the delicate sensibilities of bourgeois white, Christian women, arguably the worst sexual hypocrites history has ever known.² It does not matter if the morality police operate from the Left or the Right, for both sides are caught up in the increasingly totalitarian zeitgeist. It’s the Great Depression, all over again.
The American morality police never left the historical stage–or to be more precise, they never left the building; they merely went into the dressing room during these past five decades and now they are coming out again, shoulder to shoulder with (even if ideologically in opposition to) the alt-right.
Remember: there was more than one evil dictator during the last Great Depression. There was Stalin in addition to Uncle Adolph. Adolph (and Mussolini) simply took most of the limelight. Stalin was just cannibalizing from the far left; he was no less of a prig, no less of a moral cop, no less of a manipulator and certainly no less of a racist than the Austrian teppichfresser.
But then again, it may take an overemotional fuck-up like Trump–one of White Supremacy’s own–to bring down the whole rotten superstructure that we currently live under now. The system is unsustainable for most of us on this planet, and as far as anyone can see no one really has the balls OR the ovaries to seriously challenge this monstrosity. We don’t even go for economic boycotts anymore, let alone revolutionary uprisings, so we have put ourselves in the position of having to let the snake eat its own tail.
∗I really have a hard time believing that this idiot is actually human.
¹There’s no question of Weinstein’s guilt, and in light of what’s been happening these past two months maybe Cosby isn’t so innocent after all. But historically speaking, when Americans start shrieking accusations of rape against people, it is more than a little bit like the little boy who cried Wolf. Usually the Wolf is a Negro.
²Besides, of course, Wahhabi fundamentalists.