Sunday mornings aren’t just for penning Hate epistles. Like most of you, this is the time I spend preparing to stare intently for seven hours at 82″ of physical mutations pursuing an oblong ball in yoga pants. This obviously can’t be accomplished while still in possession of any residual dignity, and so I drown that in a case of semi-potable Budweiser and a fountain of viscous simulated cheese. And there are millions just like me.
In fact, the “NFL” counts on it. This being the acronym for the syndicate that owns and outfits each troop, while carefully cultivating the corporate sponsors who pay billions for the right to promote their products to a sea of stupefied whites.
The latter cohort represents primary producers within the NFL ecosystem. All higher participants in the foot-ball food chain ultimately rely upon this vegetation for sustenance. Advertising is the photosynthesis that converts couch pilots into consumers, thus nourishing those above them. No whites watching means no advertisers paying, which means a desiccated syndicate and unemployed ‘cornerbacks.’
That’s fundamental biology. Though, as frequently occurs in contemporary affairs, reality often finds itself being chop-blocked by liberal pieties and racial cowardice. This friction between dollars and demands is amusingly playing out presently in shoulder pads.
Readers are familiar with the San Francisco player who began this latest bout of protests from oppressed ‘minority’ multi-millionaires. Colin Kapaernick was raised by an (apparently) loving white family, whose affections left so little impression that their ummm son promptly forgot them entirely upon leaving the house.
It’s remarkable how authoritatively blacks come down on the nature v. nurture divide. Whether a second string quarterback or the president of the USA, sentiments are nearly always the same: those who invested life and love in their upbringing are just typical white people. Africans always return to tribe. Compared to our own money mesmerized myopians, I have to admit it’s a bit admirable.
Though the optics of preening prima donnas who earn 10-∞ multiples of their fan base whining about social justice is a bit less admirable for members of the syndicate. And this discomfort isn’t easily avoided. Like all liberals, tacit or overt, they know that blacks are always right. But now those blacks are directly insulting symbols of the NFL’s vegetation.
Guys watching foot-ball all day don’t want to think overly hard on how utterly they are held in contempt by their gyrating gridiron idols. Such contemplation can interrupt the proper absorption of advertising content.
Which means the syndicate has a problem. Blacks must be given the latitude to act like blacks. Anything less would fly perilously close to racist supremacy. But as they act increasingly at odds with their fans’ universalist fantasies, those ultimate bill-payers may begin to turn away in disgust. Early season ratings deterioration suggests this may already be happening.
Eagles planning anthem demonstration on Monday night
Personally, I’m delighted at the friction. Either the syndicate will crush its employees’ overt racial advocacy and suffer furious liberal recriminations in the process, or its lucrative white vegetation will start to migrate from the tee-vee like an Eritrean fleeing the war in Syria.
So tell ’em all about it on Monday night, Eagles. You’re not going to take this honky shit standing up.