You will feel good and you will feel justified as you read the bitterness toward blacks that is expressed in this post.
Fred Reed has written the most powerful piece about blacks you’re likely to see anywhere. Print it out and tape it to your mirror and read it again and again when you shave every morning. Then spread it far and wide.
This piece is the most “racist” thing you’re likely to see from a mainstream writer. Fred calls out every form of black meanness and failure. He’s bitter about what we’ve lost because of the black race.
Curiously, what made me give up all interest in the problems of blacks was not their virulent racism, their horrendous rates of crime, or their parasitism. Instead it was the assaults by blacks and their fellow travelers on Confederate monuments, particularly in New Orleans. Similarly, the banning of the Confederate battle flag at Gettysburg, for God’s sake. For reasons doubtless opaque to the historically ignorant, this annoys me. Why should the least productive, most criminal, most dependent of the population rewrite history that in any event they don’t know? The erasure of the South and the Confederacy by people most of whom couldn’t spell it, of Washington and Jefferson and Lee by grifters, race hustlers, wanton illiterates and the Brownshirts of Black Lives Matter…enough.
How many think this but won’t say it?
Now I find the black mayoress of Baltimore–a city lovely and livable in the time of Mencken before being made a decayed war zone by blacks–threatening monuments in that city. Enough. Too much.
I was not always sick of the misbehavior of blacks. In the now infinitely remote early Sixties, when I was a student in the last all-white class in Virginia’s rural King George High–graduated ‘64–integration was just beginning. To the extent that I thought about race, the question was abstract, a matter of moral principles, of ideals and fairness, unrelated to an actual people with actual characteristics who might not integrate well. Blacks had been mistreated. If given the opportunity they would rise and join American civilization. That they might not occurred only to those with experience, which did not include me.
When my parents, wiser than I–if it is possible to be wiser than a seventeen-year-old–said that integration would not work. I didn’t believe them.