Confessions of a Racist
The 2012 presidential election taught me a lot about myself. I was surprised to learn that I’m a rabid racist. Many respected civil rights leaders, and really smart actors and other intellectual giants, pointed out that people supporting voter ID were racists. Apparently, the multistate convictions of ACORN and other purveyors of voter fraud, the books demonstrating a plethora of examples of election fraud (contrary to popular talking points), and the fact that minority participation in elections actually increased in many states following voter ID laws (67% of black Americans support voter ID) created no doubt in my critics’ minds about my racism. In a rare departure from his party’s insistence on civil and unifying discourse, that font of truth, that grinning jackanapes one heartbeat away from the presidency laid bare my secret desire to reinstate slavery when he revealed that my sort wanted “to put y’all back in chains.” Other social luminaries revealed that people like me wanted to have black people hanging from trees. If it weren’t so true, such talk might be viewed as uncivil. Since these were national leaders, I took their hoary words to heart. After all, they were representatives to all of us.
My racism was further on display because I don’t support amnesty for illegal aliens. Even my use of the term demonstrates my racism. During the winter following the man-caused disasters (is that sexist?) of 9/11 (not the new ones in Benghazi), I went to Afghanistan twice, to deliver aid and assistance, but also, reflecting my racism, to confront the religious animals who felt their religion condoned slaughtering my daughters and other innocents. My 2 months in the country taught my heart what my head had already known—that societies crumble when the rule of law is finessed by interest groups and identity politics and when the rights of the individual are subordinated to tribes, religions, oligarchs, ethnic prejudice, collectives, and political groups, when essentially a flash mob floods our borders and demands that our laws be abrogated. As with most riots, our laws go out the window and the rioters make up the rules. They use our common decency to blackmail us into not enforcing our laws. (I’m aware that in some cases, to satisfy commercial interests, we looked the other way, and this does need to be considered in dealing with illegal immigrants.) Nevertheless, my insistence that my country’s immigration laws, and the people who applied for citizenship legally, be honored was clearly a smoke screen for my deep anti-Hispanic bigotry. Please don’t tell the Hispanic students in the ESL classes I am currently teaching. I don’t know whether they’re undocumented or not.
The campaign also helped me see what a raging sexist I am. I believed the government’s intrusion into the private sector was unjustified simply to force insurance companies to provide free contraceptives, when they were already so readily available, and free, if need be. A visit to many local health departments will endow one with enough latex “balloons,” dental dams, and other contraceptive esoterica to launch a Macy’s Day Parade. My suspicion that Obama was simply seeking an underhanded way of forcing citizens to violate their moral principles and dole out abortifacients was a symptom of my delusions. This was clearly a war on babes, not on babies. Thank goodness Sandra Fluke had the courage to masquerade as a pathetic, imbecilic cockyolly bird and thus gain the sympathy and support of a latex-depauperate citizenry. The Obama campaign’s classy exhortation to “vote like your lady parts depended on it” came just in time.
It’s so easy to fall in with bad company in a heated campaign. Before I knew it, I was marching with the violent, racist, homophobic rabble known as the Tea Party, spewing hateful, extremist demands such as small government and less meddling in my affairs. The largest Tea Party rally had roughly 300,000 participants and no arrests. Grrrrrrr—this foul group of dissemblers hides its violent nature well. Because I’ve marched in many more gay rights parades than in Tea Party rallies, my being outed as homophobic caught me totally by surprise. Fortunately, most of my friends are uberliberal, so I have no shortage of self-satisfied, overweening twits eager to apprise me of my “false consciousness,” as Comrade Marx termed it. Nancy Pelosi’s face, with its usual percipience, exposed me as AstroTurf. My friends further explained, they won the election by 3 percent, so they must be right. None had ever been to a Tea Party rally, or talked to a Tea Partier, so I suppose they were leading from behind. Since I was generally the only Teabagger they knew, their intense hatred of the group must have derived from something in my vile character and not bigotry on their part. It’s amazing they still deign to call me a “friend.”
As usual, the press was very helpful in gaining perspective on the Tea Party. Not fooled by the thousands of speeches and signs about downsizing government, they sought out the rare sign calling Obama a Nazi and covered that. They searched desperately for instances of violence, but sadly found virtually none. When I protested that the press was biased and playing to the unwarranted prejudices of liberals, my friends averred that the fact that roughly 90% of journalists profess to be liberal was because journalists are more intelligent than, say, the average Teabagger. I failed out of college three times, but when I wanted an “easy A” or a “gut course,” I headed to the journalism building, so this explanation confused me; but, then again, I failed out of college three times.
Fortunately, there was a group I could follow that shared the Tea Party’s contempt for crony capitalism and bailouts of financiers and Obama contributors, but was the peaceful, loving ying to Teabagger yang. Occupy Wall Street was a movement honest people, such as the president, could support. Nancy Pelosi’s face said of them, “God bless them, for their spontaneity. It’s independent, it’s young, it’s spontaneous, and it’s focused. And it’s going to be effective.” You could almost smell the freedom wafting through the air, along with the fetid aroma of feces, freshly dumped on the warm hood of some pig’s car. No doubt part of an organic farming demonstration. Admittedly, there was the occasional murder, and the odd plot to bomb a bridge or two, and many signs about eating the rich, but to Nance I’m sure this was just youthful exuberance. All the rapes that occurred in Occupy encampments must not have been those “legitimate rapes” I’d heard talked about, because everyone knew that the Tea Party was the violent movement. I confess, I was put off by the Occupy mic checks, with which some citizen philosopher’s weedy drivel was amplified by a Greek chorus of bystanders. This automatronic, collective regurgitation of some stranger’s ramblings still makes me cringe to the depths of my bowels. I know what you’re thinking—I’m being anally retentive; I need to loosen my sphincter. Anyone see a patrol car nearby?
The one form of bigotry I seem to have avoided was hatred of the rich, at least until I learned that they aren’t paying their fair share. If there must be an income tax, and you earn 10 percent of the nation’s income, in a fair world you should pay 10 percent of the nation’s income taxes. However, the reviled top 1% earned about 19% of the nation’s income, but did they pay 19% of the nation’s taxes? That would be a big negatory, good buddy. The greedy swine paid 37.4%, roughly twice their “fair share.” Yeah, but the little guy had to pay even more, right? No, actually, those earning the bottom 12% of income paid just over 2% of it in taxes. We all get roughly the same, finite services from the government (defense, police protection, rule of law, diplomacy, leg-tingling speeches by pols, etc.), unless you happen to be an Obama crony capitalist like Warren Buffett, or a member of SEIU or UAW, or Richard Trumka, in which case you make out like bandits, literally, as Joe Biden likes to say. Villains like Mitt Romney pay millions in taxes every year for the same services others get for virtually nothing, and are reviled as greedy and un-American. I just hope the ne’er-do-well isn’t getting his milk for the same price as the rest of us. Hmmmmm; makes ya think, don’t it? If I were Romney, I’d start stocking up on milk, before the lactose-intolerant make him pay his fair share.
There are knuckle-draggers gainsaying the wisdom of trillion-dollar deficits every single year; phony spending cuts; rising, unchecked spending as a percent of GDP; rampant borrowing; and debt far in excess of $16 trillion. Listen to their rantings, and be very afraid: All the spending, borrowing, and raising of the debt ceiling are like taking out a “ credit card from the Bank of China in the name of our children. . . . That’s irresponsible. It’s unpatriotic.” And “America has a debt problem and a failure of leadership. Americans deserve better.” And “raising America’s debt limit is a sign of leadership failure.” And “increasing America’s debt weakens us domestically and internationally.” Oh, wait, those were all Barack’s statements in some of his earlier incarnations, while he was still Senator Obama. Never mind.
For the record, he also said it would be unthinkable to raise taxes on anyone during dire economic straits. No doubt Obama “evolved” to his new position on taxing the rich. Unfortunately, Obama’s convenient changes of position (flip-flops) have less to do with Evolution and more to do with Creationism. We live in an era of Orwellian doublethink, a world free of cognitive dissonance. It doesn’t matter how many contradictory beliefs or positions our leaders hold because the electorate no longer makes decisions on facts, but rather on sound bites. Romney’s tour of Europe (where he received the endorsement of Lech Walesa, no less) was panned endlessly for an impolitic remark about the London Olympics, about which he was more qualified to speak than any other human being. Obama, sucking up to the Argentinians and needlessly stirring up the controversy over the Falklands, ignorantly refers to them as the “Maldives.” What does the poode press have to say about this diplomatic faux pax? Cue the crickets. Maybe he thought the Malvinas are some of the 57 U.S. states to which he once referred, to the total ignorance (a nonce word for “the act of ignoring”) of the press.
During the fiscal cliff negotiations, Obama was threatening the middle class with letting the Bush tax cuts expire (mysteriously, the same cuts he and his ilk inveighed against for years as nothing but a gift to the rich) just as seriously as the Republicans were. Republicans argued Obama’s tax hikes were trivial and failed to address the nation’s chief problem, namely, that spending cuts to entitlements must be addressed, or our country will become Greece. So who was getting the blame if we headed over the cliff? The guy who would petulantly raise taxes on the middle class simply because the other side refused to yield to his bogus ideology of class goldbricking? Silly rabbit, it’s the elephant, who won’t raise taxes because it’s fiscally unsound.
The troika of class envy and bigotry, ignorance, and stupidity is abetted by a press that actually referred to Obama’s phony posturing at cliff’s edge as a “Lincoln moment.” Huh? Really? With marshmallows like David Gregory waiting for him at the bottom of the cliff, Obama can well afford to do a swan dive into the cushy arms of the adoring press below. With a Procrustean press, whose motto is “all the news that we print to fit (the Obama agenda),” relentlessly depicting as Snidely Whiplashes those who see growth of the private sector, not of the government, as the only route to a high standard of living for all of us, proponents of fiscal sanity have few options but to vote their consciences. They can try to prevent the progressive takeover of our lives and freedoms by government and its sheep. They can fight against Obama mentor Francis Fox Piven’s dream of a socialist state brought about by overwhelming the economy with social expenses, leaving only the government to pick up the pieces. They’re going to be reviled as obstructionists and extremists whatever they do. One hundred percent of American people are going to get the crony capitalist, union-thug-dictated workers’ paradise 52 percent voted for, and so richly deserve.
The idea that the rich don’t pay their fair share is one of the most oft-told lies of the 2012 campaign. Obama did a mic check and declared, “The rich are not paying their fair share”; then the rObamabots and the poodle press catatonically intoned, “The rich are not paying their fair share,” endlessly. It’s all very Stepford, especially given that 47% of Americans don’t pay any federal income taxes.
Employing Alinsky techniques to inflame a nation already riddled with rampant identity politics, Obama and his minions are succeeding in turning us into a nation of cannibalistic parasites, convinced of our absolute right to feed off our fellow human beings. I have occupied many of the economic percentages this country has to offer, high and low, but even as a student in Baltimore, living off soup bones cadged from the local A&P—no car, no insurance, no savings, only youth—it would have been unthinkable for me to resent people who had more than I did, to think someone with more money owed me some of it; nowadays such thinking is de rigueur. I would have felt shame at such thoughts. I put my faith in myself, not in the government.
It’s not that I don’t believe in welfare. As a social worker, I saw more than enough people badly in need of help, with few options, and none of the hope that kept me going in Baltimore. To protect whatever sense of self-worth they had, we social workers actively promoted the idea that people were entitled to welfare payments. In truth, though, I didn’t believe this. To me, the payments were a kindness, a duty of a decent society, not an entitlement. Occasionally I would see a sense of gratitude to the society providing this beneficence, but the more common reaction was resentment. This attitude seems to be spreading well beyond the welfare rolls, or, rather, the welfare rolls are spreading, as more people rely on government for everything from their condoms to everything. And true to form, the resentment is there—resentment of the 53% who actually make all the goodies possible, who actually pay federal income tax.
Unfortunately, while former Alinsky devotee Obama has been spinning the bright, shiny object of class warfare and class envy before the upturned faces of the masses, he has diverted attention away from the fact that taxing the hated wealthy, even at 100%, would pay for only a short period of government bennies. This would be true even if you stole their wealth in its entirety. The alternative to more taxes is growth, but studies consistently show that our level of debt relative to our GDP inhibits growth, which has certainly been true the last four years. Without growth, which Obama’s policies have demonstrably failed to provide, and without enough wealthy people to vampirize, deficit spending has become the only alternative to spending cuts (unless you want to increase taxes on everyone else, which is the other steel-toed workboot waiting to drop). How’d you like the recent loss of your payroll tax holiday?
If borrowing 47 cents of every dollar being spent at the public trough is wise fiscal policy, as Obama supporters seem to be cool with, then let the band play on; our great-grandchildren can pay the piper. We’ve got a class war to win, and talking about cutting spending is unpatriotic, we’re warned. Most of the capitalist pigs and running dogs I know don’t object to paying higher taxes; they’re just tired of having their money constantly squandered, especially by ingrates who grab it and then denigrate them for earning it.
It is true that people are not paying their fair share, but it’s not the filthy rich; it’s those Americans no doubt whining the loudest about how unfair America is. They want all the programs but don’t want to pay for them. As usual, Mark Steyn said it best: “You cannot simultaneously enjoy American-sized taxes and European-sized government.” I’ll conclude, appropriately, with a horrible pun: “Ask not for whom the bill tolls; it tolls for you.”