Post Minstrel Syndrome

I’ve been ‘buked and I’ve been scorned

Years ago (more than I care to remember if I could) I read an interview with Lyndon Johnson who, remembering his youth in Texas, said that you could always tell when it was an election year because all you heard from the politicians was "niggra, niggra, niggra". Needless to say, this was during a era when nobody could have possibly dreamed that a black man, much less a woman, would ever seriously be considered for the presidency.

So I was fairly unsurprised when the caretakers of all that is good and decent and white in America seized upon Barack Obama’s pastor as the reason why Obama is unsuitable for the office of President (or to raise his children for that matter). These white, god-fearing citizens of Rock Ridge were anxiously awaiting a "black" moment slightly stronger than winking at a white woman to pounce on him like a duck on a junebug. Why? Birds gotta fly, fish gotta swim, and crosses are for burning.

And when that happened, it was like kicking over a rock and watching to see what scurried out from under:

On the other hand, I am sick to death of black people as a group. The truth. That is part of the conversation Obama is asking for, isn’t it? I live in an eastern state almost exactly on the fabled Mason-Dixon line. Every day I see young black males wearing tee shirts down to their knees — and jeans belted just above their knees. I’m an old guy. I want to smack them. All of them. They are egregious stereotypes. It’s impossible not to think the unthinkable N-Word when they roll up beside you at a stoplight in their trashed old Hondas with 19-inch spinner wheels and rap recordings that shake the foundations of the buildings. It’s like a broadcast dare: Go ahead! Call me a nigger! And then I’ll cap your ass.

Here’s the dirty secret all of us know and no one will admit to. There ARE niggers. Black people know it. White people know it. And only black people are allowed to notice and pronounce the truth of it.

Ah, the sweet freedom to call a spade a spade. Unshackled by the PC police, white Americans are once again free to speak the unvarnished truth about the niggers, the wetbacks, the zipperheads, the ragheads, and assorted other mudpeople befouling our culture (Thomas Sowell, Bill Cosby, and Condi Rice having been given "black people as a group" Get Out Of Jail Free cards) without being called a "racist" at worst or an "asshole" in more polite company. God, this must be so refreshing for them. It’s like they’ve been holding back an enormous crap since May 17, 1954.

And I welcome their contribution to the campaign of 2008. Let the bile run down as waters, and the bigotry as a mighty stream. It will bring back the misty water-colored memories of the way we were…


Good times. Good times.

Previous post

Late Late Nite FDL: Dance Inside the U.S. Department of Happiness?

Next post




Yeah. Like I would tell you....