There was precisely one homosex boy in my high school class, and precisely none of the other 127 Lovecraftian gender hideosities that titillate the modern liberal mind. The rest of us white heterosexuals were born too soon to understand our Hollywood/media assigned role as social anathema, and so blithely thought of ourselves as simply regular young men.
As regular young men, most of us made oppressing the world’s six billion minorities a secondary task at most. Our matter of primary concern being to gain the attention and favors of attractive regular young women. I doubt many women can fully conceptualize the sheer sexual intoxication brought to bear by an 18 year-old boy’s hormones. Though I can still recall watching cheerleader practice from the football field in a state of mesmerized craving.
One of those cheerleaders was a specimen of exquisite beauty. A descended daughter of the Vikings, she was lithe, lean, and perfectly proportioned, with ice blue eyes and long natural blonde hair. Keeping my eyes off her required a mental discipline I had barely yet developed. Thus it was a thing of cosmic serendipity when my bashful, bumbling advances actually resulted in a few dates with this heavenly creature.
Unfortunately–and owing completely to my dazzled ineptitude–those dates didn’t translate to a girlfriend. Though I remained mostly dazzled still.
That was until.
Until the news that she had a new boyfriend. A new black boyfriend. In a time before our current regime of competitive self-annihilation, this struck the school like a thunderbolt. Equal parts astonishment and revulsion, the typically expressed response was: gross.
Though most fascinating from an anthropological perspective was the immediate and permanent effect on the girl’s sexual market value. It cratered completely. Upon the inevitable and tearful breakup with her Nubian prince, this extraordinarily beautiful girl found herself a sexual pariah. There was no conspiracy, no plot. To the white boys (for whom she had suddenly rediscovered her interest) she simply ceased to exist. She was never approached for dates, never asked to a dance. I can imagine for her it was a lonely, confusing, and bitter experience. One her family did her no favors by not earlier intervening in.
I’ve long assumed that this unconscious, atavistic, and entirely adaptive form of social sanction had been dissolved. The vast number of miscegenating white women one sees just by stepping out on the sidewalk would seem to support the suspicion. And if a people can be mind-controlled to overtly despise themselves, then directing who they copulate with would surely be a task of little difficulty.
Yet maybe the controllers have succeeded only in capturing more lying tongues than honest feet (and other appendages). That was my musing upon reading this oblivious female’s lament. Take a read and note how many logical fallacies one foolish girl can squeeze into an immiserated life.
Her despair is entirely a function of reality failing to conform to the contradictory worldview she has swallowed whole. And when there is plain incongruence between what is and what we have been told, to which do humans direct their fury? Reality, of course. That men have shunned females who give themselves to other tribes has been a feature of human existence since we crawled out of the Devonian soup. But since this recent evolution conflicts with our long 30 year tradition of white racial dissolution, it must be wrong. So the girl quoted above asks plaintively: why does it matter? It matters because our genes want us to live as surely as our values want us to die.
Amidst her keening the girl also leaves completely unexamined why she yearns for acceptance from the racists who reject her. Shouldn’t she be glad they have unmasked themselves so that she can reject them? This is an example of what economists call “revealed preference.” She knows she is obligated to cite raysis as the worst thing in the world, but she desperately desires the affections and support of white racists. This is because, unlike race, raysis is a social construct. And faced with life’s tangible burdens and hurdles, she yearns for something concrete.
Conversely, she shows no inclination to secure the companionship of another black male, yet takes pains to not publicly malign them as she does the men whose affections she actually desires. As always with such people, her tongue and feet are traveling in different directions. As a result, she unselfconsciously expresses an identical revealed belief as countless millions of brown migrants: the only thing worse than white racism is being apart from it.