Saturday, April 23, 2011

Calling a Spade a Spade

I would like to congratulate Grady Warren for so skillfully and sincerely articulating not only his opinion, but for speaking up “on behalf of the tea party” and for having the courage to say you are “sick and tired of being called racists.” Your recent YouTube video was a testament in moral courage that will forever be remembered for its boldness and daring. And I was particularly moved by your attack – a teahad you called it – on the “political correctness”  that has infected our national dialogue. Time was when a man or woman was unfettered by any social mores that would inhibit them and could go right up to someone and speak their mind without having to worry about how it was received or what someone in the liberal elite media (or was that elite liberal media, I can never tell) might think about it. Back where we come from we just call that freedom of speech, right? I commend you sir for putting it all out there for everyone to see and hear. Bravo!


But, as gutsy as your performance was, and it did leave a lump in my throat, you didn’t quite nail it for me. You stopped just short of truly seizing the moment and saying the word every one was dying to hear you say. Oh, you came close, trust me. I haven’t heard that word since the good old days of the segregated South. Ah, it almost brought a tear to my eye when you repeated it: Niggro. But, you must admit, that was a little beneath you brother. I mean, really, with all that venom and pep, I would’ve thought you better than those poor southern folk of a bygone era. I mean they could only say it privately amongst themselves, usually at a gathering of the elder statesmen who were professional enough to bring their own hoods and carry their own crosses. All you had was a video camera and a sweatshirt with guns on it. You poor thing.

But I want you to know that, in the words of one of those commie-pinko presidents who had the nerve to occupy our beloved White House, I feel your pain, and I’m here for you. I want to encourage you to break free of that last inhibiter that has you all bound up and prevents you from speaking the ultimate truth. Come on, now, you know you want to say it; you’ve been dying to say it for years, ever since you went to that first cross burning when you were just a young pup. Ah, those were the days. Certain people knew their place, didn’t they? And just in case they forgot, well that was what God made rope for, right?

So, give it up, open wide and let’s have it. Say the magic word. It’s right there on the tip of your tongue. I can almost feel your anguish as you wrestle with each letter. But it’s not that hard; all you have to do is move a consonant around – that would be letters like N or R – and change one vowel – that would be letters like E or O.

Okay, ready now? We’re almost there. Bite down, swallow hard and remember you’re doing this not for you, but for all those tea partiers out there who look to you as their spokesman and leader.

So, here goes.


N I G G E R!


Ah, sheer ecstasy! Didn’t that just take a load off your mind? Wow, imagine having to carry that around with you all that time and not be able to express your true inner feelings. Now this is true freedom.

Calling a spade a spade must be exhilarating. I wouldn’t know, because I’ve never had your courage. I was too preoccupied with silly things like decency and a soul. But you, my friend, you are quite a piece of work. You define not just a movement, but a seething resentment that is centuries old, and, like the cavalry charging up San Juan Hill, you have arrived at just the right moment in history to set us straight. Armed only with your truth – what other truth can there be? – you boldly go where few have dared venture.


And the best part of all is putting them back in their rightful place, just like the good old days. Take that socialist, Kenyan-born nigger in the White House – our White House, tissues please. What nerve he had putting his feet up on that oval office desk. Who does he think he is? Back in the day, he’d be polishing that desk and shining our shoes, right? Well, we’ll show him, won’t we? After we take back our country and put things back the way they were – which would mean shipping all the Chinks, Spics, Moslems, and darkies back to wherever they came from – we’ll finally have the country we were supposed to have. Of course, then there’s that matter of the Wops, Micks, Krauts, and Pollocks, but at least they’re all white, and most of them speak good English, so for now, we’ll let them stay. Oh, I forgot the Jews, how stupid of me. Well we can’t get rid of them. I mean, who’s going to make the movies and run the banks?

You know this moral courage thing can get a little exhausting. But for now, Grady, you can relax and enjoy your moment in the sun. You’ve earned it. Tomorrow’s another day. So much hate and so many potential victims to bestow it on. It practically sends shivers up and down my spine.

P.S. Give my regards to The Donald.

2 comments:

jasdye said...

Peter,

this is good. and i appreciate the shock here, but i'm of the strong opinion that whites (and particularly white christians) should never print nor repeat that word. too much baggage for some of our dear bros and sisters.

dmarsilia said...

In the hands of a less skilled word-smith, I might agree with @jasdye. But this truly worked for me. Part of the problem with PC (political correctness) as opposed to true discernment and appropriateness are blanket prohibitions that add nothing to real communication.