It’s a riot how the “idea” of “race” has changed in my life time. I’m just flipping through a slideshow of Olympic competitors, young. We’re all used to seeing “black” basketball players, don’t even notice if some team — college, pro, public playground — has only black players on the court at the moment. But we’re still shocked to see that the star of the “Italian” soccer team is black: as I was just jolted to see a girl with afro characteristics doing gymnastics representing Romania!
I was persecuted as a teen because I wore my love for things “black” on my sleeve: I worshipped Louis Armstrong, Kid Ory … Lionel Hampton … My friends cooled toward me, then backed away, then turned and snarled. It’s not that they didn’t also like Louis Armstrong: they liked him in his place! Blacks were to enslave (or at least exploit) during the week, and fuck in the whore house on Saturday night. A white American grudged that Steinmetz was a genius, but didn’t smoothly allow anyone telling anyone that Jelly Roll Morton was a genius! No: Jelly Roll, you threw him a nickel for playing the piano while you fucked the black whore: you threw the black girl’s madam a quarter, maybe you threw the black girl herself a nickel too: if she’d sucked your ass, made you come in her mouth.
I kept track in the army of the immigration bureaucracy’s ever shifting definitions of “black.” In America Jews count themselves “white,” are generally counted by other whites as white; but Jews in the Germany of the Third Reich were counted black! And long, long had been!
I kept a copy of the army guidelines. I’ve haven’t seen it recently. When the FBI arrested me in 2006 they seized my computers, went freely through my personal papers. Some of my papers are still there, there’s no telling which ones aren’t. But I’d written to NYU to tell them that I had proof galore of how they’d defrauded me, how they defraud the world. NYU called the FBI, the FBI arrested me, put me in jail. They gave themselves all the time and license they wanted to destroy evidence, alter evidence. That they’d didn’t destroy or alter all the evidence proves sloppiness, incompetence, not innocence.
The first girl I was ever more than a little in love with was so cute, so beautiful, so sensuous, and so hip! God knows how many European genes were mixed in there but she had African hips! a black behind! I went out of my mind.
Now: I’m a freckled pale face. My mother was a red head, flaming red! My beard was auburn once upon a time. I got blue eyes: like Paul Newman had blue eyes: and lashes long enough to sweep the floor with. Jackie had a trace of red in her hair which I adored, but fifty years later doesn’t tell a clear story about it. She dumped me after I’d visited her in Boston over a weekend, wrote that she couldn’t allow seriousness with a white guy. Seriousness?! I seriously wanted to fuck her! And did!
“What about the children?” That’s a real consideration. I didn’t consider it then; let me consider it now.
Jackie’s stiff hair was a dominant characteristic; my limp hair (which she adored!) is recessive. Her dark eyes are dominant, my blue eyes are recessive. Genes from both parents, from all ancestors, go into the kid: but who’s likely to have dark skin, kinky hair … those things are easily predictable.
The recent tennis open was adorned with a cute dutchess and her sister in the royal box at Wimbledon. Blond Stefi was there, and bald Andre. Serena beat up everybody among the women. Roger looked like white was supreme among the men. And he had his own cute white girls in his box: twins! But think:
Babe Ruth never hit a ball out of Yankee Stadium. “White”: German(ic). Mickey Mantle almost hit a ball out of Yankee Stadium: the feat was thwarted by night lights that hadn’t been there for Babe’s Yanks. But “black” Josh Gibson had supposedly hit one out! (If there ain’t a John Henry here, there’s a John Henry there!) But of course the slavers, the social hypocrites, made no fuss about it. Racists do the reports, keep the “history.”
But genes aren’t so easily censorable: kids tell the truth, in their very being.
OK. I jump to my conclusion, my hypothesis (think it through, reject it or promote it):
Kleptocracy, industrialism, had it’s most recent most spectacular (spectacularly ecologically ruinous) acceleration under the pale faces: rule Britannia! If the English had claimed their children in India or in the slave quarters of America (as the truth indeed shows them), property would have been radically redistributed centuries ago.
Human politics is a cover up so that recessive genes will dominate over dominant genes!
I love my blue eyes (despite my blue eyes no longer being able to see very well). I just don’t want my blue eyes (or your blue eyes) to cheat!
PS Just last evening I began reading a novel by the great Wilbur Smith: Assegai. I devoured his stuff a couple of decades ago, then no longer sought more. Now I can start catching up! Meantime, right at the beginning, an English officer, around 1906, pairs with a Masai to fight off a Mandi army. The English and the Masai team so well, but the Masai can’t drink from the English officer’s water bottle!
The assegai was invented I understand by Shaka Khan. Oh, please God, please Apollo, let Smith work some Shaka Zulu history into this book: or another: which I’ll gladly read next!
(An hour or two later: he has me weeping already! recalling how Smith made me weep once at the death of a soldier’s mount: a camel? a zebra? Just fabulous. Tolstoyan! Kiplingesque! What higher compliments could there be?) (Here it’s a male companion in arms relationship: the English / Masai pair escape the marauding Mandi though the Masai has an artillery-length arrow in his leg. The white guy carries the black guy. Finally he can take not one step further, they’re done for, and the Masai slips out of his coma and begins singing the Masai Lion Song! There are Arabs who can keep their parched camels walking with their camel croon: here the officer becomes a Masai lion! and keeps walking!)
Finally! I read a great novel of Genghis! Now I’m ready for Shaka!
It was a riot (in 1974) how my German girl friend Inge, so obviously genetically German Jews fainted! at the sight of her, lived with a black guy from Harlem, a guitar player. Down at the Old Reliable, Third Street, East Village, in the 19602, Germanic and Nordic blonds lined up to get fucked by blacks, spics, any guy not white. Of course we WASPS could still get laid too. (A story about a Jew sinking toward the floor at Inge’s appearance was told at my IonaArc blog in 2010: I just imported it.
A Jackie story is already linked.
Race: A-Scientific Myth
A Revenge on Racism