Doing the Jobs Americans Won’t Do

I was reading more on Daron Wint, the now-notorious Guyanese immigrant DC murderer whose incarceration mugshot appears below.


Before continuing…could you explain exactly what that thing on the right is supposed to be? A rejected third antagonist in the Alien v. Predator film franchise? I realize this query drifts distastefully into sensory utilization, but I am ogliged to pose it regardless: who would gaze upon that primeval visage and think “we need this man?” We do still retain the capacity to think beyond contemporary platitudes–no matter how unpleasant. And despite it being scrupulously disabled on liberals, our native intuition is actually a handy feature. When functioning effectively it offers cautions such as…

Perhaps Mr. Wint isn’t the optimal candidate in whom to entrust a government issued M16.

Maybe American Iron Works doesn’t need labor quite this cheap.

Hello scowling black man outside my house at midnight. What can my pump 12 gauge and I do for you this evening?

It’s not for all occasions, but I use my own intuition practically every day. Though there are no free Dominos pizzas and certain public displays can create their own awkward moments. For instance, intuition might lead to wondering why a quarter of Guyana’s violent and destitute population has been allowed passage to America. This obviously being a question too gauche for the DC cocktail circuit. But for those so dissolute as to concern themselves, according to the US census there are 228 thousand Guyanese in America and 735 thousand Guyanese in Guyana. Another site claims the movement is actually far more robust.

As many as 30,000 Guyanese continue to emigrate to the USA annually.

It is astonishing that more than half of the people of Guyana, over 700,000 individuals, have emigrated; 350,000 chose to relocate to the USA. Truly a massive emigration. Guyana’s population growth is now in the negative. Only 650,000 people remain in Guyana. According to some studies, of those people who remain in Guyana, almost each and every one of them is awaiting the issuance of an immigrant-visa for the USA!

And what would our intuition advise about the potential impact of this demographic suctioning on our own lives–or those of the Savopoulos family? Apparently little that the father lent much concern towards. From American Iron Works’ CEO statement:

Today we mentor five minority owned firms, striving constantly to help them grow into sustainable businesses.

Well sustainability starts at home. And at least some of the rich are beginning to appreciate the fact. Writing on the burgeoning business of physical security accoutrements, the NYT quotes a builder of “safe rooms” on the impetus behind his product.

“The world is a very scary place right now, especially for people of means; they feel cornered and threatened,” said Tom Gaffney, the president of Gaffco Ballistics, which has installed a number of safe rooms around New York City. “When you have so much to lose, and you can afford to, you put a premium on your safety.”

Well no, not especially for people of means. The world is a much scarier place for the middle and lower classes forced to dwell in tight proximity (sans six-figure safe rooms) with the Afro-Guyanese labor units imported by those same “cornered and threatened” rich. I’m sure mine won’t be the only moistened cheek imagining the anxiety suffered by those whose primary concern is to keep the social pathologies they create firmly anchored around other people’s neck. But the rich do have “so much to lose.” Like their lives, for instance. These being commodities far more highly valued than those of the mere hoi polloi. Who, after all, have probably never even attended a NYC art auction.

Dr. Johnson observed long ago that The insolence of wealth will creep out. Insolent men often judge themselves wiser than their own intuition. And when they eschew its counsel, tears creep out instead. Whether they know it now, or come to learn in agony’s leisure: The rich will burn with us.


10 thoughts on “Doing the Jobs Americans Won’t Do

  1. If all of the 350 000 Guyanese in America could be persuaded to do what Wint did, their presence in the country might not be in vain. The rich will indeed burn along with the victims of their policies, and Gaffco Ballistics products won’t save them. But by the time they realize that, it’ll be too late for them to stop what they’re doing to the country.

  2. This will sound extremely cruel, but I am glad the victims were a family of wealthy do-gooders and their meso-American helot, as opposed to the usual diversity cannon fodder. You know, like a white pizza delivery guy or waitress. Maybe, just maybe if enough rich folks got to experience diversity on our level, the policies would start to change.

    • The policy changes will be free flights from Guyana for the remaining 600,000 and more Section 8 vouchers for working class suburbs like Ferguson. And tax breaks for safe rooms.

    • I wasn’t born yet when Jonestown went down and it was never more than marginally interesting to me until I watched this documentary a few days ago. It’s pretty mind-blowing even if you don’t buy into every angle of the filmmaker’s implicit thesis. The material on Jonestown begins around the 48-minute mark for those interested. There’s clearly an attempt at one point to make the cult out to have been an elaborate, fascist-inspired, Tuskegee-style secret medical experiment on blacks; but if you ignore that and the sanctimoniousness, it’s clear that there was a lot more going on down there than most of us understand.

  3. The great Shiva Naipaul visited Guyana directly after the Jonestown massacre. In his book, Black and White (US title: Journey to Nowhere), he describes getting a ride from the airport to Georgetown from an Briton he had met on the plane.

    A big, black car stopped in front of us. It was a dated model of some English make, but the paintwork glistened. The Indian chauffeur got out, saluted smilingly and stowed away our bags.

    “This is faithful Ramesh,” my companion said….

    The road followed a near-continuous ribbon of settlement. Wooden houses on stilts—much of coastal Guyana is below sea level and subject to flooding—reared awkwardly out of the untidy bush. On dark verandas, families cooled themselves. Rum-soaked merriment oozed from bright, congested bars. Odors of mud and swamp thickened the humid air. Somewhere nearby flowed the Demerara River, a presence I could sense but not see. The dusty roadside was lively with pedestrians. They waved and shouted at us, hoping for a ride into town. We did not stop.

    “You can’t be too careful,” my friend said.

    “These people won’t think twice about choke and rob,” Ramesh put in.

    Choke and rob: it was the Guyanese equivalent of mugging; and it was rampant. The elemental description had an unnerving precision. Mugging suggested a variety of possibilities. Choke and rob was hopelessly final.

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