White Wounding In Virginia

 

by Martin Frobisher

On August 14th, 2015 a creep named Jesse Benn published an article on the ultra-lefty-lib Huffington Post entitled Towards a Concept Of White Wounding. It is entirely likely that this character is a Jew in the mold of the loathsome Tim Wise or Noel Ignatiev, although I have been unable to locate any documentation thereof, and I have noted in the past few years that the more cautious members of the Tribe, sniffing the wind as of old, have begun actually to conceal their racial identity and once more pose as White, a switch from recent years when so many threw caution to the wind and wore their noses on their sleeve, so to speak. This effusion of Benn's is long and very nearly unreadable. Here is a brief example of one of more coherent passages:

“White people need to open ourselves up to a particular type of wounding to genuinely understand and then work toward racial justice. Our comfort and privilege generally keeps us from incurring these wounds naturally, and thus they must be sought out, disseminated, and used to motivate action.”

On August 26th, Benn got his wish with some White wounding, big time. A black homosexual gunned down a young White woman TV journalist named Alison Parker and her White cameraman, Adam Ward. The murdering monkoid videotaped the killings and issued a “manifesto” to the effect that he had murdered the woman “because she said racist statements,” later shown to have been things like use of the word “swinging” and “going out in the field,” which the primate took to mean cotton field. No. I am not making this up.

People like Jesse Benn and the Southern Poverty Law Center bear a profound and inescapable moral responsibility for the false, vicious, and malicious ideas they propagate against people of European descent. So far I have as yet failed to find even so much as a single crocodile tear or expression of regret from Benn, and when I checked the SPLC website two days after the slaughter in Roanoke I found only a fulsome eulogy for the late high-yellow race hustler Julian Bond. Morris Dees and Mark Potok didn’t consider two murdered young White people worth a mention. In their minds, they weren't.

We are constantly being told that Black Lives Matter and that White lives do not, and even to suggest otherwise is wicked, evil racism and must be punished with cyber-shaming and “economic discipline,” i.e. blacklisting from employment. One of the reasons for the prominent position in the polls of Donald Trump is that White Americans are tired of being vilified, harassed, hectored, scolded, lectured, assaulted, robbed, fired from jobs they have held for years because of a word or because they are simply the wrong color—and above all we are tired of our racial brothers and sisters being murdered by the black beasts of the field.

When contemplating the deaths of Alison Parker and Adam Ward, it is quietly enraging to think back to the wholly justified and justifiable death of the huge thug Michael Brown, in Ferguson, Missouri a little over a year ago. Brown was slain after he was stopped by a police officer on his way from a strong-arm robbery of a convenient store where he had stolen a quantity of cheap Swisher Sweet cigars in order to use the paper wrappers to make large marijuana joints for re-sale. During this robbery the primate beat the shopkeeper, a brown-skinned Asian, significantly. (Sometimes we forget that these animals do almost as much damage to their own kind as to White people.) Brown assaulted the policeman for the horrible micro-aggression of asking him to step out of the street and back onto the sidewalk, attempted to seize the cop’s gun, and got his big black ass well and truly plugged for his trouble. A grand jury—a multi-racial one including blacks who have to live in the same neighborhood as a hundred Michael Browns—determined that Officer Darren Wilson acted appropriately, within the law, and within departmental procedure, which did him no damned good whatsoever. Wilson was forced out of the police department, and efforts are now being made to deprive him of what paltry pension and medical benefits he was due. He is living in hiding and unemployed, nor realistically will he ever be able to hold a job under his own name again; he has applied for the federal witness protection program and a new identity, which under the current dictatorship I rather doubt he will get.

A year later, large hefty monkoid women with big butts are hijacking presidential campaign rallies over Michael Brown, screaming into microphones like so many Cheetahs in a Tarzan movie. Two days on, Alison Parker and Adam Ward seem already on the way to being forgotten; 48 hours after their deaths, they were already gone from Drudge Report.

90% of interracial crime in this country consists of blacks victimizing Whites in some way, often in horrible assaults, rapes, and homicides. I doubt if this reptile Jesse Benn is even aware of that statistic; if he has ever heard it, I’m sure he simply mutters “racist!” and then dismisses it from his mind.  

To be fair, “anti-racists” seem just as dismissive of the lives of their own kind as they are of the lives of us ordinary honkies. In December of last year a man named David Ruenzel, a writer and a internet commentator for the Southern Poverty Law Center, was murdered in Oakland, California by a couple of niggers, either in the course of a robbery or just for the hell of it, because the man had a pale skin. Who knows why these beasts do these things? Perhaps Mr. Ruenzel forgot to check his privilege.

One or two of the bloggers and commentators in our own minuscule Movement made some comment on the irony of it, and the SPLC’s Heidi Beirich promptly held a tearful and impassioned press conference wherein she denounced—the wickedness of those sassy Whiteboys among us who had dared, yes, DARED to voice an opinion on the matter. If we had all maintained a respectful silence on Mr. Ruenzel’s untimely fatal ass-whupping, I frankly question whether there would have been any public mention of his death from the SPLC at all. Don’t rightly fit with the narrative, dontcha know.

Perhaps I am a hopeless optimist, but I am beginning to whiff something in the breeze—the first faint hints of a Wind of Change that with any luck will grow into a hurricane. At long, long last, White people are getting really, really tired of it all. I did not watch the death of Alison Parker and Adam Ward on the internet; I have seen death before, I know what it looks like, and I can afford to take a pass on it this time. But many White people did watch, and that is good.

Long ago the infamous Boss Tweed of New York tried to take out a hit on the cartoonist Thomas Nast, who was skewering Tweed with his famous caricatures: “Stop them damned picters! I don’t care what the newspapers write about me. My constituents can’t read. But they can damned well see picters!”

White people are like that these days. We cannot read, or will no longer do so, at any rate. But we can damned well see picters.