Scott Pinsker kicks it around a bit, most of which I agree with, some of which I do not.

Very Respectfully, ‘White Privilege’ Is a Steaming Load of Crap

DING! First disagreement, however piddling: “Respectfully’s” ass; Leftist cretins who constantlty howl about “White privilege” get no respect whatever from me. Onwards.

Not too long ago, it was considered taboo to draw unnecessary attention to someone’s ethnicity, skin color, or racial identity. Black, white, brown — whatever: Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. made such a compelling argument about judging each other on the “content of our character” instead of the color of our flesh that he thoroughly discredited his opponents.

This was one of the less-publicized legacies of King: He made racism sound pretty stupid. (Of course, it is.)

Collectively, we judged Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. by the content of his character and wished we could be more like him. Being a racist was just about the worst thing you could be!

So if you’re over the age of 40, you’ve had friends, teammates, acquaintances, dates, classmates, and colleagues of all kinds of different ethnicities. Most of the time, your conversations never pertained to skin color; it was irrelevant. It’s not that you were unaware of racial distinctions; after all, noting that white and black people look different doesn’t make you racist — it makes you minimally observant. But why bring it up?

Let’s face it, if the most interesting thing about someone is their ethnicity, they’re probably a boring person. And who wants to be friends with someone boring?

This MLK approach to race led to impressive results within an astonishingly short period of time: Just a few decades after “colored” restrooms, segregation, and other examples of actual systemic racism, America changed.

We even elected a black president!

Yeah, THERE’S something to really be proud of. Tell me, how’d putting Bathhouse Barry in the Oval Office work out for ya in the end? For America? For pretty much everybody on the whole goddamned planet?!?

I’m fine with King’s “content of character, not color of skin” argument, for whatever that’s worth. That said, anyone, black OR white, who tries to contend that, in the US at least, there aren’t fundamental differences between Blacks and Whites is gonna end up falling flat on his face…a face that has egg all over it, just to play my favorite game of mixing a few metaphors here.

During my first trip across the Pond (England, to be specfic), I noticed that European Nee-grows were not at ALL like our homegrown variety. Without exception, they talked like the Whypeepuh around them, dressed like them, walked like them, behaved like them. At Heathrow airport; riding the Tube; in the streets and shops of London; way out on the North Sea Coast near Great Yarmouth, even, I was astonished to observe that, despite plenty of Pyrsynzz of Chocolate all around me, I never saw a single nigger anywhere I went. Same-same in Helsinki, Pori, Aitoo, Amsterdam, Maastricht, any- and everywhere. Black people, sure; niggers, emphatically NO.

Curious, innit? Why, one might almost conclude that what we’re looking at here is less a racial phenomenon and more a cultural one.

Beginning with Clarence Burch, Fritz Moore, Reggie Graham, and Harry T McDowell in elementary school—all of whom had standing play-date invites from my parents, over which I’m sure said parents would’ve caught heat from at least a couple of the neighbors—I’ve had Black friends my entire life. I have plenty of ’em still—male and female, young, old, and in-between—and though I’ve never broached the topic of racial distinctions in America with any of them, sooner or later most of THEM have. Those conversations reveal a strong concensus opinion amongst my Black friends, expressed bluntly by my good friend of many years’ standing Mel: “If some White yuppie girl you know ever tries to tell you there ain’t no such thing as a nigger, you tell her from me she don’t know enough Black people yet.”

Now, Mel just happens to be one of the hardest working, most industrious and enterprising dudes I ever have known, of any race or ethnicity: a handsome, natty-dressing family-man type who prides himself on taking good care of his five children, although he HAS been known to step out on his wife once in a rare while—momentary lapses he owned up to fully with the wife, and tried to make amends for as best he could. Good thing, too; Mel’s ol’ lady, a wonderful woman I also know well (HELLA good cook, too; she and Mel both are, actually), just ain’t nobody to mess around with like that, she simply won’t stand for such.

Not wishing to hurt Mel’s feelings or insult him in any way, I eschew the N-word around him, although he’ll blithely throw it in now and again himself when he deems it appropriate. Which, y’know, he sometimes does; he’s usually right about it, too. As CF Lifers already know, I don’t hold back on deploying the word ‘round here, if only to shock, horrify, and antagonize any shitlibs who may have wandered in by mistake. Because, y’know, FUCK them, that’s why.

There are indeed distinctions to be made between American Whites and Nee-grows, a great many of ‘em, and vive la différence, I say. It’s always been my opinion that those distinctions ought not be denied but actively, enthusiastically celebrated, having brought us such worthwhile things as jazz, back-porch blues, and rock and roll; top-notch athletes in every sport; gifted stage and/or screen actors; even some damned excellent writers like, say, the awesome Chester Hymes, among others.

Yep, there are many differences, both subtle and profound, between Blacks and Whites in this country; may it ever be thus. As the saying goes, variety is the spice of life; right straight to hell, then, with the uninteresting, insipid café au lait-colored admixtures the shitlibs work so assiduously to cram down our throats.