Culture War, Race War
by Karl Gunther
AT THE presidential inauguration after the 1960 election, flinty Yankee and American traditionalist Robert Frost read one his his poems. Thirty-two years later, after the 1992 election, Negroid poetess Maya Angelou got the nod, and in her “poem” she moralized nasally and incomprehensibly and tediously, ticking off every ethnic and religious group, ad nauseam, who ever set foot on our poor continent. This was as sure a sign as any that the arts in America had descended to the level of a dungheap.
A truckling and weak-kneed White man named Robert Lynch has had a lucrative career in that dungheap. He has headed something called Americans for the Arts (AFTA) but now in our era — AF (After Floyd) — even his brand of race-cucking may be heading to the end of its gravy train. The Web site for this parasite organization spouts all the bromides of our time, lauding its own pursuit of a strange beast called “cultural equity,” and its self-hating “acknowledgement” that “systems of power grant privileges unequally.” Translated, of course, this means White man bad. It never occurs to these worms that the fruits we’ve reaped have been earned, both by ourselves and our ancestors, or that inherent biological difference are what causes the “inequity.” If anyone is privileged, it’s the brown and the Black who are living in White lands, relative paradises compared to their countries. A quiet “thank you” would be most seemly. After that, they should shut up while we formulate the logistics of their return.
The reality of all this, which we are effectively forbidden to notice, is nothing more nor less than an evolutionary struggle for access to resources. We had it; they want it; and they want us out. This is true whether it be a slot in prestigious universities, federal contracts, or money to lavish on artists and thinkers who can promote their ideologies. And in fact this latter resource is perhaps the most important of all, because when our adversaries control it they spew out word-poison that slowly saturates and insinuates its way into people’s minds. Re-education can be well nigh impossible.
And when it comes to the arts, the high-profile activist Blacks are nothing if not shakedown artists. They know how to pillory a White man for sins against the dark ones, how to play off his White guilt, and make him grovel on the floor, thus tilting the playing field to their side because their opponent is too cowardly to compete. Think of Ralph Northam who got caught in a hood and now has become a de facto White Negro. I’m sure he’s still pretending to read Roots and babbling about how White people are the cancer of human history whenever a camera or microphone is nearby.
Well, Robert Lynch is meeting a similar fate. He’s been tossed out of his leadership position at AFTA. Ostensibly it’s due to alleged mistreatment of employees but you and I both know it’s because a) he’s an old White man and b) Negroes are moving in. It’s never about justice. It’s always about power.
With a name like “Quanice” you’ve just got to be a Negro, it’s as simple as that. The semi-literate and fully dark creature named Quanice Floyd (no relation to George as far as we know) has written an article for a White-bashing Web site called “The Failure of Arts Organizations to Move Toward Racial Equity.”
“Equity” of course is the new trendy buzzword; it used to mean the amount of money you could realize from selling your house (and for many of us that was quite a lot of money until the Negroes moved into the neighborhood). But what “equity” now means is that Whites with any degree of wealth need to toss a significant and ever-growing part of it down the Gib Me Dat hole until they and their children are all dead.
Quanice is calling for Robert Lynch’s head. Quanice thinks that Robert Lynch is a closet White “fascist,” running interference for his own race. In fact he’s a scared little man who is beginning to learn that, with these voracious wolves, kowtowing and kneeling will never be enough. Even before Quanice set her sights on the money, there had been widespread condemnation of AFTA by its very own advisory council members and “current and former staff” for what they deemed insufficient deference towards Blacks. They want to run him out on a rail because, you see, he’s not their kind.
Lynch is on paid leave and but he is still an advisor on the “arts” to the Biden-Harris team. One way or another for these parasites there is always an angle — but even that angle might collapse if the media-amplified screaming gets loud enough.
And one funny thing about all this is that after George Floyd died of a drug OD and/or heart attack, AFTA’s leadership immediately expressed their fervent commitment to Black and brown lives in an Instagram post. But their genuflection toward the new Pope of the anti-Whites was not, of course, enough to mollify the maniacs. How could it be? Nothing is.
Right on cue, Quanice in her article demanded that AFTA invest in paid membership positions to “build relationships” with Black and brown arts organizations and to recruit so called people of color (POC) to serve on their board of trustees. She singled out AFTA as a group that was “hoarding power.”
And that is the pattern. They seize on some non-White who died due to his own malfeasance, lie about and blame “White racism,” and then they push hard; anyone who buckles even for minute is seen as easy prey; and then they push some more until that person is gone.
Mr. Lynch will soon be out to pasture. All of his obeisance in the service of his ethnomasochism will have availed him nothing. He’ll still be living fat off our land of course, having sheared off enough of our money to live in comfort. But power he will not have, for in these arts organizations more and more there will be more and more Jamaals and Shaniquas. They’ll subsidize the Black queer “poet” who who only writes of being Black and queer. They’ll trumpet the Black novelist who supposedly “digs deep” into the roots of “the White supremacist system” that exists only in his overheated brain. They’ll celebrate the brown graffiti “artist” who violates “White spaces.”
It is now safe to say that, outside of some obscure corners hidden far away from the spotlights and the funding, there is now no art in America. Soon Robert Frost will be but a hazy memory, if that. But those dark-skinned ones that Angelou so tediously enumerated? They’ll waddle right up to the trough and get their fill of the slop, just like they’re at home. Because, of course, they will be.
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