I’m going to take what was done to me for the cruel humiliation it was intended to be. Additionally, I am going to attribute that humiliation directly to who was responsible and who intended me the most harm: The Pittsburgh NAACP. Those familiar with American politics have heard the expression: The Historic Black-Jewish Alliance. A spokesman for this alliance, and what was done to me, Steve Langer of Princeton, wrote, “I’m not sorry for anything I’ve done only that it had to be you.” In other words, it didn’t matter that I am completely innocent of wrongdoing, they had identified me as an item to market and ideal symbol to use for a sacrificial white.
Black Lives Matters put on a little play for me yesterday. Some middle-aged matrons engaged a suitably pure, bonneted black teenager, full of smiles, cherubic and goodness, as though to say, you see, you white, who complained of the murder of Alina Sheykhet, how we can just as easily be completely heartbroken, left bereft, and have our hearts and souls rubbed in our faces by a wanton act against a child like this? Yes, but not by me, is the point, and certainly not by Alina Sheykhet, either, so the gesture isn’t just wasted, it is counter-productive, because it underscores an unscrupulous mentality that doesn’t want anything good by this place we are trapped in, the U.S., with all its materialist hypocrisy, you just want to steal a poor, old deaf man’s title to a meager existence because of your sickening, childish greed. Don’t make it sound like high principle. The idea that it is not too loathsome to credit such a cruel, dishonest gesture comes from you deranged people, even if you learned it from equally deranged whites.
All this crowing about empathy from people who know nothing but maniacal sadism, what could it possibly be but deranged deceit, spitting horrifically in someone’s face and saying, “I love you, man.” I remember when I was nine years old, I saw a well to do black student set upon by the marauders at my school who tortured me as a little boy. I was sickened when the white kicked the black man’s notebooks and the papers went everywhere. That wasn’t proof of genetic racism, it was proof of empathy, but what did the blacks do? Right across the street was Ralph and Shawn Brooks’ church. The Blacks lined up to play they cared about me, after I took my life in my hands protesting apartheid in the main newspaper, they lined up to play they cared about me, exploiting my deafness for Ralph and Shawn as a joke, playing friendly to me, to steal the title to my life as a married man by humiliating me in a controlled, organized, determined, premeditated way, writing leering, cruel, prying, deranged notes to me, blackmailing me with my written attempts to get help, suckering me on the job, and who did they do it for? For a white man who told me first, “if you try to help Black people they will only turn on you.” The Blacks at Community College of Allegheny County would be first to agree. Ralph Proctor talks openly in his classes of being in a Black gang who hate whites, who love to lie to their faces. Oh, he’ll call them honorary Africans when they give him lots of money and prestige, but that’s just another lie in the interest of advancement.
Then you have Aaron Dixon. What sort of worm does it take to bully a man who is so widely held in contempt as a worm himself? A man so laughed at by Reagan he got away with calling protest about ripper murder and the rape of a deaf girl legally a child a threat? To steal the last apple of a hungry man who is destitute? That’s the sort of person this syphilitic Black Panther is. The idea that a white he has targeted might get away from the KKK in Hollywood makes him writhe in his lizard blooded skin. The laugh of idealism is rendered a plate to pluck from with sinister abuse of sincerity. What sort of fiend won’t leave someone alone whose soul they had raped? And call it common cause? That’s so noble it’s practically a set of Dr. Martin Luther King’s church clothes, huhn?
Proctor and Dixon are practicing a form of African riot known as the necklace. They are doing through Community Colleges and getting away with it, setting someone on fire in gang warfare to laugh at them, subjecting a person who cared about them to the most loathsome crying shame they can summon up. They publish that I am paying for something, while lying about every detail. These men are so out for themselves that they huckstered openly a cover up for the AIDS attack in the name of Black Lives Matters. The rest of us don’t mean shit. It was already terrible for me because I wanted to help them, and the KKK saw that as invite to special case of see where that gets you, a plan to use Queers to punish a commie. Ever since the film Birth of a Nation the KKK and Hollywood have dreamed of the day that Blacks would turn on white people who meant them well and announce that they were safer and happier in the hands of the Klan. Pitt NAACP complained of a one night stand that they set up? What sort of principle of the thing is that supposed to be?
I am a law-abiding person in The United States of Manson, horribly injured from serial rapine beginning being visited upon me as a child, writhing with a nerve agent poison from a foreign power, having never lived above the poverty line. My family did not own slaves, we were Pilgrims, we served honestly and honorably in every war without being drafted, from the inception of the United States. I see the sincerity in our Bill of Rights. I understand that a person can have bad luck, but kidnapped? Tortured? Harassed? Mutilated? Stalked? Subject to murders and rapes as a form of psychological predation? In broad daylight and cold blood? For years? You dare to claim there is a Judiciary? How dare you further poison with hope the tawdry, seedy, evil mania you claim is justice?
I don’t know how to answer something this heartless and mindless and evil, but don’t darken my doors with the idea that I owe you something. I don’t even have enough money to put bread in my refrigerator much less answer the syphilis of bottomless, drunken, drug-addled, brain-damaged and brainwashed Black rage. I won’t speak well of you. I refuse. You made clear you know where I live, just like the KKK have done.