Summer Was Cold Winter Was Colder

My political philosophy, in case I haven’t been clear, is called Cahillism. It was passed on to me by the late, great, acutely missed, Jim Crow educated political philosopher,  Louise Cahill – my mother. 

The watershed political science lesson was commenced and ended while waiting at a red light in a late model white Toyota station wagon when I was 13 years old, about a month before I started high school. It went like this in its entirety:

“Lester, look at me. Don’t let anyone give you anything because you’re black and don’t let anyone take anything from you because you’re black. You’re just as good as anybody white. And who is to say you can’t be better?”

That is verbatim. 

My mother was not big on solemn pronouncements like that – she was a joker always looking to laugh – so it has stuck in my mind. Nothing but death or severe senility will dislodge it. I’ve lived by that creed and I’ve passed it on to my children. 

“And who is to say . . .” well, I’ve found, lots of people actually. The White Left mainly and then black people who’ve lived lives totally immersed in the entertainment and academic culture created by the White Left. 

Assorted cranks on the Right have let me know they don’t think much of blacks either but they hide it behind scientism. They’re not bigots, you see, they’re just pointing out what the studies show. Too bad, huh? Must suck to be black. I’m so sorry. Here are some position papers we wrote . . . 

This summer was maddening. Black folks had the stage again. This time it was kind of easy to see what we were in the streets yelling about. Even the most obtuse suburbanite had an inkling something was not quite right with urban governance. We had the microphone to ourselves.  The entire world was listening. Time to tell everyone exactly what we wanted as Americans, as human beings. And who got to talk?  The racial plagiarists who form the black elite. 

That mentally lame and impotent class took to the airwaves to explain to America that black people need crime. Black men, specifically. It’s akin to a masturbatory function. It can’t be helped. When the police block these ejaculations of criminality they are fighting against nature – so the police have to go. It’s called Social Justice. 

Why do black men commit so many crimes and come into conflict with the police? What about police department personnel and training needs to be changed? All we received from the clown chorus of the black aristocracy in response to those questions was something, something, blah, blah, 1619, blah, blah, SYSTEMIC RACISM, blah, blah, patriarchy, so shut up and vote for Joe Biden. 

That is all the air cover the White Left needed to go into black neighborhoods and burn down black businesses, burn out grocery stores that will never return, call black police officers Nigger and race traitors, and spit in their faces. It turns out the proposition of black lives mattering has many provisions for the black lives that don’t matter. I lost count of how many black police chiefs had to resign because of the mayhem created by the White Left. 

Few actions in life are more self-retarding than when black people pull out the racism bat. We think we are hitting white people over the head but we only smash ourselves. All crying SYSTEMIC RACISM does is advertise black inferiority and dependence in the face of white supremacy. What it does is flatter white people with the idea that blacks cannot compete, cannot be as good, and certainly cannot be better than unless white people intercede to override our genetic helplessness. 

It is disappointing to see all the black leaders with advanced degrees and access to power my mother’s generation produced who find her simple standard for living a life of dignity impossible to meet.