We are all racists

Awful Truth #5: We are all racists.  What matters is how we behave despite our inherent human faults. 

(These thoughts were put to paper in an unpublished work called The Grid during the height of the BLM asshattery in 2020.) 

“Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive…those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience.”

                C.S. Lewis

I’m gonna make it easy regarding the blizzard of racism accusations howling across the world: We are racists.  Each of us.  Without exception. 

Yes, that means you, dear reader.

Those of you whose faces are turning purple right now are the worst kind of racist, which is to say a dishonest one, dishonest to yourself.  A liar and a racist, that’s two strikes by my reckoning. For the apoplectic Woke reading this, I shall be the adult in the room and explain myself.  (Believe me: If I have to be the adult, we’re in big, big trouble, but that’s the world we currently find ourselves.)

In several of his novels, the author James Clavell described how each of us has three hearts.  One we reveal to the larger world, one we reveal only to those closest to us, and another known only to ourselves.   

Which of these is our true heart?  Which one uses the term “people of color” and which one uses…you know…the other word.  Give some thought about yourself and those people closest to you.  There can be a transcendent difference among these three hearts, and this includes the racism within each of us. The heart revealed depends on the situation and the unique creature that is you.

Uniqueness not manifesting itself in criminal or fascist behavior is generally a good thing.  Our uniqueness makes the world an interesting place, keeps it from a crushing sameness.  Unfortunately, uniqueness in thought or deed is to be destroyed if it deviates so much as one Ängstrom from the Woke pathology.  Should you foolishly believe you are to be spared the Woke’s wrath in regard to their shrilly insisted-upon conformance, I have terrible news for you: No one shall be spared, including the Woke themselves. A concentration camp doesn’t just contain its inmates. Its jailers are likewise imprisoned, though they may scoff at this notion. They are blinded to this reality by their ability to brutalize the prisoners, not realizing until it’s too late that all are dehumanized within such as place.

In today’s world of virtue-signaling kabuki theater, it’s expected (or else) that you must scream from the mountain top stupidities such as “The Aunt Jemima pancake syrup logo is racist!” and whatever other crazy platitudes require shouting.  This is somehow irrefutable proof you are not a racist—maybe it even beatifies you as being anti-racist.  It is assumed as conclusive evidence that you are one hell of a good person.  A veritable Martin Luther King, Jr., Nelson Mandela, and Justin Trudeau amalgamated into one virtuous chimera.          

Actually, your screams, while effective in cowing politicians, CEOs, police chiefs, and other wussies, prove not a damn thing.  You’re still a racist.  You’re also a debased coward if you’re shouting because you fear being found out.  Joining the mob out of mindless embracement of coerced contrivances doesn’t make you brave.  The only steely conviction to which we should avow is that we are each of us a racist—and shall do our best towards our fellow man in spite of this.                  

It’s remarkable (and not in a good way) how easily the mob’s platitudinous nonsense is fashioned into armaments.  Weapons-grade stupidity is apparently much easier to obtain than plutonium.  For example, it’s taken as holy Woke gospel that if you don’t believe Aunt Jemima is a symbol of racism and her elimination is somehow world-improving, then you, my friend, are a racist—case closed. Thus, debate and contrary opinions are aborted in the womb. 

Freedom of choice applies to abortion, gender, and sexuality…not speech, ideas, opinions, or supermarket commodities.  According to our persnickety overlords, a manufacturer doesn’t get to market a product as it sees fit, a store doesn’t get the choice to sell or not sell a product, and its customers do not get the choice to buy or not buy it.  Immature, overly-delicate dunderheads made that decision for you—essentially an officious hall monitors armed with nuclear weapons—and if you disagree, you’re a racist. 

How dare the bank lend money to the manufacturer.  How dare that company make that product.  How dare the television show advertise it.  How dare the store stock it.  How dare you buy it.  How dare the payment platform facilitate your evil purchase.  How dare another company provide you the payment platform’s app.   

The Grid makes the asshattery possible…the asshattiest of the asshattery…swiftly, effortlessly.  Busybodyiness on a staggering scale.  Pipsqueakery in terabyte quantities.  Amplification of inanities into thunderclaps of all-consuming importance. Totalitarianism mere effortless clicks away.

The Grid gives evildoers masquerading as do-gooders the means to attack any or all points of the supply chain, from farm to fork.  They intend to do so unless (and until) we conform utterly to their worldview.  Scorched earth is their preferred method for dealing with those with the temerity to resist them.  They are to the lives of decent people (i.e., the non-Woke) what illegal loggers are to the Amazon rainforest.     

Each day the resistance to this poisonous ideology crumbles further.  They assure us it’s for our own good, the world’s good.  They go so far as to insist the past adopt their worldview and see no farce in the effort.  But this ideology is cod liver oil wrapped in flaming barbed wire and then shoved down your throat whether or not you want it.  Especially if you don’t want it.    

It’s amazing—and not in a good way—that simpletons exist who believe this foolishness is world-changing, racism-erasing stuff.  Several years ago, the city I live in passed a stupid resolution against hate.  Yes, against hate. Screw potholes, herds of homeless, and unfunded pension liabilities. There’s meaningful work to be done! 

Jesus Horatio Christ, what an empty moronic gesture.  Once this ignit train left the station, there was no stopping it.  Any councilmember who disagreed (if there were any) kept his or her mouth shut.  To vote against it, or even abstain, sends a clear message to the boneheads who proposed it: Oh, you’re in favor of hate!  This is no different than the classic political question with no safe answer: “Senator, are you still beating your wife?”

The day after the vote, I can assure you that there was not one whit less hate in the universe, including the city that took a courageous stand against it.  My soul felt the same as it did the day before.  I didn’t see any unicorns frolicking in the streets pissing lemonade and shitting cotton candy. 

Maybe it was just me and my cold, dark heart that didn’t see the love and tolerance sweep over our town, blessed as it was by our elected dimwits.  Using the Woke’s tricks-of-the-trade, one could argue that because the resolution didn’t include cancer, the city council was, therefore, for cancer.  Of course, a resolution against malignancy wouldn’t stop the wild replication of a single cancer cell, but, c’mon, why not try.  You know, show we care. 

Criminy, what a bunch of embarrassing, disingenuous dreck.

Why so negative?  What’s the cost of such a gesture, even a meaningless one, their hearts were in the right place? 

Really? Do I have to do everything around here? 

The resolution accomplished nothing except to dump more imbecility into a world awash in it.  More nefariously, especially in light of recent dunderheadedness, it revealed the elected leaders in my city believe they should control thought rather than behavior.  The hatred in our hearts is none of their business.  The physical manifestation of it might be.                     

There are three hearts of which we’re consciously aware.  I argue there’s a fourth heart: one unknown even to ourselves.  The heart that belies any virtue-signaling or vice-signaling we might do.  What’s vice-signaling?  We know all too well about virtue-signaling, since we’re deluged relentlessly with its phony-baloney compassion and shrill sanctimony.  Conversely, vice-signaling is openly claiming a vice that may not actually guide your actions (e.g., talking smack until the moment of truth).    

This fourth heart is aware of everything the other three hearts do, but only makes itself known at the most profound times in our lives and is the manifestation of our truest self.  It is our real virtues, our real vices, the bedrock upon which is built the temple of our very soul. More crudely, it’s the heart that tells the other three, “Here, hold my beer.” 

This fourth heart is the coward’s courageous deed, the selfish person’s act of charity, the racist’s moment of humanity.  It’s the anti-free speech fanatic who finally sees the gates to Oceania open up before his eyes and realizes the tragic error of his deeds.  Contrast this with the virtue-signaling Woke person’s infantilization of black people (aka racism) done because it’s the trendy thing to do, or worst of all, out of fear of revealing what’s really in his heart. 

In essence, the fourth heart is the place from which arises a “bad” person’s goodness and the “good” person’s evil.  Most importantly, it’s the place where true courage and cowardice reside, awaiting the call for manifestation, in whatever fashion that might be. 

Which response each of makes is indeed the rub.  Tis not courageous to shout the mob’s slogans when one is swaddled within its midst, especially if the opposition is timid and impotent.  Courage is to face the mob, alone, stare it down and simply say, “Enough.”  Eppur si muove, not whispered under one’s breath, but said with a steely voice, looking the fools of the Inquisition right in the eyes.        

I smirk when anyone stridently insists that he is not a racist.  Mark Twain in his short story, The Man Who Corrupted Hadleyburg, said it best: “The weakest of all weak things is a virtue which has not been tested in the fire.”  As I did with Clavell, I’ll go a step further than Twain: An accusation of a human fault is meaningless unless it’s considered in the context of an entire life and given its due test in the fire. 

Spouting a trendy allegation is cheap theater when it’s done from a position of wealth or celebrity.  Mouthing the holy tenets of a hip cause célèbre is not brave.  It’s ovine at best.  It’s cowardice when a peaceful protester (ha ha), anonymously ensconced amidst a roiling mob, tosses a rock at the police not allowed to do their job, especially if the “just” cause is lauded by the media, celebrities, elected leaders (you know, our insufferable betters).  These folks are not revolutionaries putting themselves at consequential risk…they’re delusionaries and tantrumites.  Playing at revolution. Lemmings, really.         

Efforts to eliminate racism are a waste of time—but do offer us dangerous entertainment and fake atonement.  Racism is one of myriad foibles comprising the human condition.  One ingredient in the stew that is a human being.  Though their basic ingredients are the same, no two stews are identical.  That’s a good thing—we want diversity, right? 

The various amounts of these ingredients make each of us the person we are.  God’s pantry contains these ingredients and if he didn’t want an infinite variety of combinations, he’d use the same damn recipe for each us.  He doesn’t and never will.  Again, that’s a good thing.  Otherwise, what a terrible world it would be, one of stultifying sameness, a world that might as well not exist—a veritable modern-day college campus “led” by trembling invertebrate administrators.  

The Woke demand we surrender to the absolute sameness they foolishly seek—or else.  That “or else” is a flinty meanness, excruciating pettiness, and God-how-I-hate-it shrillness that is as retarded as it is jarring.  A miserable uniformity they themselves could not endure if it were actually to come to pass. 

Such an absolute sameness requires it be done forcibly, mercilessly…forever.  This is my warning to you.   

A further warning to the ignits of the world, as futile as it is to do so: Sending Aunt Jemima and Uncle Ben to the death camp is not world-improving stuff.  This logo lynching is not virtue.  These foolish diversions from the issue of George Floyd’s death (Aunt Jemima, really?) clearly telegraphs your real designs: A path not to address an incident of police brutality, but one that uses his death to justify your nihilism and vileness.  In other words, your own form of brutality, your knee on decent people’s necks.               

What are these ingredients that make us who we are?  Each of these is present within us, in one amount or another: racism, tolerance, cowardice, courage, pettiness, reasonableness, sycophancy, nobility, cruelty, kindness, greed, self-sacrifice, hypocrisy, honesty, hate, love, and countless other traits integral to the human soul.   

The interesting thing about this stew is its makeup changes back and forth, day-to-day, year-to-year, over our lives.  That’s okay.  It’s called goddamned Life.  To lack a bad trait, including racism, does not make a saint.  To lack any of these, good or bad, is to not be human.  

Never trust anyone who claims he is not human. 

Likewise, never trust anyone who lacks a sense of humor.  The Woke are humorless pricks.  For crying out loud, they disarmed Elmer Fudd, violated his Second Amendment rights; they “cancel” comedians whose shows they are not forced to attend.  Cartoons and comedians, really?  God, the Woke truly are abject pussies.  And yet, they’re somehow winning.            

The racism in your heart does not define the entirety of who you are.  The sum of your existence is measured by how you deal with your faults, act in spite of them, the person you are is because of some inherencies and despite others.   

Shouting that you’re not a racist is a hollow boast, no less laughable than claiming your DNA lacks the capacity for love, joy, avarice, or cruelty.  Believing sanctimony itself is a virtue is, in reality, a pathetic false pride—the capacity for pride also in each of us.  Shouting that someone is a racist is a meaningless recognition of the obvious—and does nothing to make the accuser pious.  Particularly risible is the accusation of racism from the lips those whose intolerance of speech they do not like or agree with is itself a vice far transcending mere racism.  These same faux do-gooders cause tremendous harm that falls disproportionately upon non-white people—and they intend much more of this.        

Intolerance of words, opinions, and thoughts requires a horrific infrastructure of totalitarianism made feasible with modern technology.  For the first time in history, we can implement intolerance with a speed, reach, and assuredness never before possible.  All it requires is that good people tremble rather than stand up for freedom of speech and thought.  That requirement is largely met. We’ve presently a surfeit of cowards.      

The Woke’s intolerance goes far deeper than against mere racism; it hunts your very thoughts, and they fully intend to enslave your mind by making you terrified of your whispered words and silent ideas.  The whip they wield might be digital, but no saint ever wielded a whip against his fellow man.  No whip ever made the world a better place.  A whip can just as easily be turned against its wielder in a never-ending cycle of violence and oppression.  Each wielder sincerely believes he is morally right, but never asks himself the question that might cause the whip to drop from his hands: Is any belief system morally right if a whip be necessary to “convince” non-believers of its righteousness?          

I think you know the answer.

The level of both control and extirpation the mob demands is only achievable by a tyranny such as we’ve never seen in the human history which predates the Internet, social media, and a society that is willing to indulge childish adults who fancy themselves avenging angels but who behave abominably. The unfortunate timing of COVID gave us a shitload of idle hands with plenty of pent-up energy on tap to topple, spray paint, loot, assault, and start fires. 

The tyranny they desire is there for the taking because our leaders are fearful of being called racists.  No crime or humiliation was spur enough to bring forth the courage necessary to overcome their fear of this accusation.  Instead, our so-called leaders cowered, dithered, and knelt, conceded to every demand.  We, my friends, are on our own.       

Do not fear the smear of “racist” when it simply means you are accused of being a human being.   

Perhaps this advice comes too late.  The enemy of good people of all races is at the gates.  The mindless mob fueled by the high of self-righteousness clamors for our heads.  Political correctness was its vanguard, a seemingly benign but irritating nuisance we’ve endured for years.  We ignored its silliness because it was mind-numbingly stupid and seemed a waste of calories to oppose. We realized too late that the army that followed political correctness, and is now here, is far more terrible, for it intends real tyranny—and you’d better conform, or you’ll be humiliated, doxed, deplatformed, demonetized, protested, blocked, boycotted, silenced, expelled, fired from your job, have your business destroyed, stripped of your parental rights…or worse. 

Yes, worse. 

Don’t assume these aforementioned consequences are the end of it.  These are merely the beginning.  The mob has tasted blood and astounding success, has no reason to stop.  As I write this, a shooting just happened inside the Seattle Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone, leaving one dead and another seriously wounded.  Even this crime did not result in the merest blip of adult-level governance from the hapless Seattle “leadership.” 

We are on our own.   

The Grid is become our new god.

A merciless, vengeful one, possessed of an ever-watchful eye.        

What you do, say, type, post, like, dislike, tweet, retweet, email, record, etc., is swept up into the ether, and kept there as long as the server farms exist.  The background during a Zoom meeting is not safe.  “What’s that book on your bookshelf?” screech the Inquisitors.  Vacation videos are not safe—the amusement park is owned by a racist who did not bend the knee to BLM.  Everything you create, no matter how seemingly benign, is subject to scrutiny by the Woke’s Ministry of Truth and its eager foaming-at-the-mouth fascist minions.  Digitization is the vast spider web amid which sits a malevolent creature awaiting its feast.  We need an EMP to forgive us our sins, start ourselves with fresh slates.  Pray hard for one.   

Good people of every race must speak up.  A petulant tyranny of pettiness, overreach, and wussiness arises before our eyes.  Yes, these traits are part of the mix of who we are, but for the love of God, can these Woke imbeciles keep it to themselves and leave the rest us the hell alone! They can’t and won’t.   

We are strong and they are weak; yet, we lose ground each day because they are possessed of a relentlessness that decent people who take their work and family responsibilities seriously cannot duplicate.  We are victims of our decency.

Yes, we are stronger.  A statue does not make us prostrate; for us it’s history, good or bad.  The Confederate flag doesn’t weaken our knees; it’s a piece of cloth that means different things to different people, but these days is largely a symbol of Southern pride (e.g., military prowess)—I can say with certainty the vast majority of Confederate flag wavers are not desiring the return of slavery, secession, or Jim Crow; I’ll also bet a lot of cash that the average Confederate flag aficionado is far more respectful to black folks than is a condescending white Woke screecher.  The bottle of Aunt Jemima syrup doesn’t cause our heart to stop.  The Eskimo Pie doesn’t make us give up on life (I’m damn sure that’s also true for real Eskimos).  Uncle Ben seems like an avuncular fellow and doesn’t mean any harm.  Speedy Gonzales (an early victim to political correctness) didn’t make the world a worse place; in fact, Mexican families were upset he was deported from the world of cartoons; Speedy certainly isn’t the one burning down buildings and looting black communities.  It was white grammatical colonizers who were so traumatized by gendered language that they forced upon the Hispanic community the douchey term Latinx.  And on and on…              

Perhaps it would help to define racism.  I doubt Merriam-Webster will do it justice, out of fear of the mob.  

The word racism is bandied about frivolously today with a whiney casualness similar to the Queen of Hearts shouting, “Off with his head!”  Do not be surprised—because I won’t be—if a self-righteous do-gooder openly accuses Martin Luther King, Jr. of racism.  I’m guessing Dr. King would be in disbelief that a nation having come so far regarding race relations is now utterly dismissive of the progress and is wallowing in self-indulgent self-pity over its past.  Of course, I can’t know for certain, but that’s where I’m laying my bet.     

Presently the definition of racist is “anyone who does not invariably agree with full-on Woke ideology, no matter how extreme, irrational, or dunderheaded are its tenets.”  That, of course, is an absurd definition to implement, but it’s an absurdity before which our leaders kneel. This definition isn’t written down in any dictionary, but it should be if accuracy is desired.  Another sure bet is that those who scream the accusation the loudest are the least likely to actually provide a cogent definition—or any definition, for that matter.  Intelligent and thoughtful argument is for racists, not these smug world-changers.         

In amazement, we witness the hysteria that surrounds a word for which I’ve not heard anyone define with any degree of sobriety. We need to analyze deeper.  Be the adults. Consider a blunt definition. Here goes…

Racist (noun): A person who believes all white people are better than all black people.     

This definition is pretty darn straightforward.  There’s no nuance.  The degree of universality is breathtaking in its simplicity and is necessarily embraced by anyone intending to go all-in on seriously bad shit (e.g., slavery, Jim Crow laws, Woke patronization and eco-imperialism).   

Mathematically, this definition is represented by two bell curves that have zero overlap.  The one on the right is white folks, the one on the left is the black folks.  Its absolutism is intellectually lazy and, therefore, readily adopted as the go-to definition for dunderheads, such as the KKK and the Woke—all blacks are inferior…all blacks need whitey’s pernicious salvation. But, man, I have to wonder if even the Imperial Wizard himself actually believes this.  Let’s be honest.  He must’ve met some really dumbass white folks in his life that runs counter to this definition.  Hell, just watch the cringey PSAs in support of BLM concocted by some of our dumbass white celebrities.  Their bell curve is way to the left, maybe off the chart.        

This definition gives us the KKK and the white supremacists.  It gives us the white Woke moron who somehow balances two contradictory ideas inside his skull: That all people are equal and that all blacks forever need his patronization and panderment.  Keep in mind this overly earnest tool and his dutiful offers of assistance are nothing more than self-serving condescension, and condescension is a terrible form of racism in its own right. I’d rather have someone hate me than condescend to me.  At least hatred has some degree of honesty built into it. 

Worst of all, this definition includes the vitriolic Woke who believe their ilk’s bell curve is far to the right of the one they petulantly assign to the “#walkaway blacks” (traitorous race apostates who were formerly Liberal but are now Conservative).  They believe they are better than all Conservative or otherwise free-thinking blacks.  All fanatical religions despise the apostate, and the Woke cult is no exception.  Nobody explains the Conservative position better than black apostates.  Nobody calls out the lunacy of the Woke ideology like these apostates.  Nobody at the present moment is showing their courage.  The Woke cannot allow this opposition to exist.  The #walkaway blacks may be our only hope.     

I’m reminded of a comment by the Conservative lesbian commentator and author Tammy Bruce.  She said she’s treated far better by Conservative who might be uncomfortable with her sexuality than she is by the Woke who despise her political views.  The same is true for black Conservatives.  They’re treated far better by “racist” whites than they are by the white Woke who despise them for daring to think differently and flee the Woke Plantation (I capitalized it because it’s a damn real place). 

The people of color (see I’m Woke!) who dare criticize Woke orthodoxy bring a rain of opprobrium down upon themselves.  These brave souls don’t experience a scintilla less hatred than an escaped slave faced from his antebellum massah.  They’re essentially runaway slaves—and the pursuing hounds never tire.    

None of this should surprise us. The Woke are horrible people, a grave threat to good people of all races, including reasonable Liberals whose traditional views, such as freedom of speech, are no longer welcome by a mob that wishes to force upon us a society of fearful silence and obedience.  Doesn’t matter the color of your skin; if you don’t agree with them utterly, you’re in for big trouble.         

There’s a hilarious video where white students at UC Berkeley are asked if voter ID laws are racist.  The kids of course say “yes” and give tone-deaf reasons, which made it painfully evident they’d given zero actual cognition to the matter and were merely parroting notions that some moron came up with, which in sum said that blacks are helpless imbeciles.  The reaction of black folks shown video of these white patronizers is priceless.  Check it out: “Ami Horowitz: How white liberals really view black voters.”  If this video doesn’t embarrass the Woke, nothing will. 

The non-overlapping bell curve definition of racist is a broad-brush view of black people.  The white Woke are big on the broad-brush.  They see a world where every black is delicate, humorless, thin-skinned, easily outraged, unable to think critically, intolerant, due a groveling apology, and requiring endless assistance from birth until to the last shovel of dirt is tamped onto the grave. A black person who challenges this viewpoint is mercilessly attacked.  It goes beyond hating them for their contrary opinion; the Woke anger is based on these black folks daring to have a different viewpoint.  My God, the audacity of these uppity Uncle Toms! 

An apostate should always be listened to with respect, whether you agree with him or not.  He’s seen the other side, lived it, and made the choice to leave.  Find out why.    

The current mob is obsessed with a smorgasbord of terms like systemic racism, white guilt, and white privilege.  They’ve created a distractive nexus that links Aunt Jemima to the death of George Floyd.  They fully believe the volume (or violence) of their argument is indicative of its veracity.     

It isn’t.      

There are as many definitions of “racism” and “racist” as there are us.  The goal should not be to eliminate racism (i.e., make us less human).  Instead, we must ask ourselves how people should behave in spite of it.  This means we must accept that racism is part of ourselves—and do our best toward our fellow man in the context of our unique selves. 

A first step is ignoring the Woke’s name-calling—or tell them to “fuck off” if that’s your druthers.  We are so deeply mired in the farce we presently find ourselves, that the leap to the Woke saying we are all racists (except themselves) is but a gentle bound across a small puddle.  Everything and everyone is racist according the Woke, and their list grows by the minute.  Accusation, denunciation, and mandated disavowal (even for that for which you never avowed in the first place) are the hallmarks of tyranny, including the current one run amok.  Better to get on board with the pogrom rather than risk drawing suspicion.  

Screw that.

Accept your foibles.  Stay off your knees.  Speak up.  And, for God’s sake, don’t apologize for anything!

The decision to make is clear: How should we deal with the racism in our hearts?  The same way we deal with our other vices.  Be a decent person.  This doesn’t mean perfection or sainthood.  That’s the goal of fools.  Acknowledge there are a host of reasons we might think ill of another person, both petty and profound, and that’s okay, it means you’re human.  You may even loathe the person.  Nevertheless, you should treat everybody fairly and honestly.  Do not commit crimes against another person.  Allow everybody the same opportunities.  Allow people freedom of speech, opinion, and thought, including that which you find odious.  Give everyone the same freedoms and rights you want to possess.  

The farce we find ourselves has progressed to the point of George Who?  But good people mustn’t forget this also means police must have sensible use of force rules and accusations of police misconduct must be properly investigated.  It doesn’t mean the police get a pass if the person who is killed happens to be black and the killing determined to be unjustified. But it goes both ways.  Citizens hire public servants to perform certain jobs.  It is our responsibility to invest some effort to understand the realities of those jobs.  Sometimes those realities are profoundly ugly.      

The general public should not expect perfection in any human being, including a well-trained police officer.  Nor should the public expect that police play patty-cake with criminals, including rioters and looters.  That is a dangerous naiveté.  Based on what we’ve seen, it appears the officer with his knee on George Floyd’s neck did not follow sensible use-of-force protocols.  Due process mandates the incident be investigated and ultimately there be a finding of innocence or guilt.  Unless you’re personally in the courtroom, you’re unlikely to hear the complete facts, listen to all the testimony.

Is it too late for good people of all races to thwart the tyranny that currently seeks power?

I don’t know.        

I can’t make the Woke grow up, not be fascist dicks. It’s boorish behavior to attack logos, statues, flags, the names of things.  It makes you look weak.  The world would be a far better place if the Woke put on their big boy, big girl, or big gender non-specific pants and got on with actual life.  Things that offend your sensibilities can’t hurt you: book, movies, logos, statues, flags, words, and ideas.  Creating a society that hunts down every offensive thing and is willing to use violence or cause other harm in furtherance of this pernicious crusade, ultimately destroys everyone.

The director Werner Herzog gave good advice about not shying away from uncomfortable ideas and other things: “Read everything.  See everything.  The poet must not avert his eyes.”

I’ll finish this up by sharing personal reality.

I’m a racist. 

Unlike many others I’m not going to cower if someone accuses me of it.  I’m not going to kneel and beg for forgiveness.  If someone posts a video of my transgressions, my response shall be blunt: “Ooh, the Internet is mad at me.  Boo-fucking-hoo.” I sure as hell am not going to degrade myself like the wussy police chief in North Carolina who washed the feet of black activists.  I’m not going to shine a black man’s shoes for atonement like the dumbass CEO of Chik-fil-A.  Jesus, what cringy fools they are.  I’m not going to debase myself before the apology-industrial complex.   

What the Woke think of me is utterly irrelevant. The bigger question, really the only one that matters: My life, in its totality, up to this point.      

The racism in our hearts doesn’t mean we leave other races to harm or indifference, or actively harm them.  The racism in our hearts doesn’t mean we ignore our duty.  The racism in our hearts doesn’t mean we give our vices free reign if it involves a person of another race.  The racism in our hearts doesn’t mean we deny other races the rights we want for ourselves.         

I’m a racist whose heart shall always be with the good people in West Contra Costa County, people of many races and generally lower socioeconomic conditions.  As their health inspector, I fought to see they received the same protection as people elsewhere in the County, that they were treated like everyone else.  In fact, I even gave them more than many other inspectors would’ve given.  I am, after all, the son of a Marine.

I’m a racist who fought to remove the expired food dumped into their midst (e.g., baby formula seven years past the expiration date).  I fought to keep unrefrigerated delivery trucks from bringing dangerous food into their stores and restaurants.  I fought to keep illegal prescription drugs sales out of their communities.  I fought to make sure the stores and restaurants and school cafeterias were clean, safe, and free of vermin.  I did my duty.  It never occurred to me that they were due a lesser amount of my duty because of the color of their skin.  That would be an alien concept in the context of duty.  Just as police should do their duty irrespective of a person’s race.

I’m a racist, but I’d be remiss not to share that the people I love most in this world are not Caucasian.  The three graves I visit regularly and shed tears over are not Caucasian ones.  The abandoned dead babies I mourn for are of myriad races. 

The hundreds of foreign adoption videos I watched on YouTube during this insane time we find ourselves proved to me there is much good in the world.  Many of the adoptive families are white Christian Southerners, you know, those folks who are anathema to the smug, self-righteous Woke. 

I’m a racist who is happy these children found families and saddened to tears that so many are left behind who don’t.  A devastatingly touching video showed a family that gave a dying Chinese orphan a home.  They didn’t want her to die without a family. 

That single act by one family involving a dying child of a different race from far away is far more world-changing than all the statues torn down, logos removed, Confederate flags banned, and renamed things.  The former is love and humanity in its purest form, for a child in desperate need of it.  The latter is violence and small-mindedness and nastiness masquerading as virtue, but virtue it most certainly isn’t.    

People are both simple and complex. That’s another rub, my friends. Yelling, burning, destroying, renaming, shaming, etc., are the acts of simpletons who cannot fathom the simplicity or complexity of others, let alone themselves.  The Woke simpletons have done nothing to change the world for the better.  But they’ve caused much harm and intend to do much more.    

If there is actually such a thing as a society’s collective sins and regrets, I don’t believe there’s a way to truly atone for these.  Reparations and revenge are tried many times in history—and never made the world better.  Never. They have, though, resulted in horrors beyond description. 

But personal remorse…that’s another thing.  Quiet and kept to oneself.          

I’ve gotten to this point in my life with many regrets, but would I change any of these if I could?  What if a magical time machine were built, would I avail myself of it? 

I don’t know the answer.  The people who mean the most to me became a part of my life by the merest chance, which a few seconds either way would’ve meant otherwise.  Were I to go back in time and change a single regret, I might gain or lose those seconds, and my life would be vastly different today.  That’s a thought that chills me to my marrow.  

Perhaps the best I can hope for is a simple epitaph for my grave, one that may serve as a warning to those doomed to make the same mistakes I have:

I hope everyone I harmed,

By my actions or inactions,

Found a measure of happiness in their Life,

That made the suffering they endured worth it. 

(Maybe this should be on all our graves.)