Niggers Cry Some Tears

[Douglas Mercer]

Douglas Mercer
February 12 2024

Looks like some niggers went back to their roots and cried some tears like a woman. Of course their real roots are in malarial swamps and mud huts and albino bone voodoo. Their real roots are in brain dead stupidity borne of evolving in a tropical zone where a lazy and shiftless world philosophy was enough to scratch out a meager existence. Slavery is in the news these days and it’s supposed to have been evil but you notice no one ever asks why it was they who got caught. You ever wonder that? Indeed, when the enslavers came it was damn easy pickings and they picked them up right and left particularly with the help of the enemy tribal chiefs. No fortifications were built, no gun turrets on the shore, and certainly no navy to patrol the waters for enemy ships. No, the day before the first Europeans hit them like a ton of bricks the Congoids were living in a fool’s paradise and were like sitting ducks and babies. In the event we cracked them like a broken egg. And is that really anything to be proud of? Or to revere? But in today’s sordid world nothing gives you ideological street cred like having been a victim. And in the category of total and abject failure has anyone ever been a more resounding success than the niggers?

“Justice Alexander, a senior at Granby High School in Norfolk, Virginia, felt something come over him as the bus carrying 21 of his classmates entered the grounds of Fort Monroe on the Chesapeake Bay. Sure, Alexander knew the facts of the place: Four centuries ago, in 1619, a ship called the White Lion crossed the Atlantic Ocean from central Africa with twenty and odd souls. Aboard that ship were the first enslaved Africans torn from their homes arriving in what was then called Point Comfort, in the Virginia colony. Alexander’s feelings were overwhelming. When the bus rolled onto the property, Alexander, 18, said, it was like…” He made a sound that intimated discomfort. I felt it. I felt it. It was just a little off. It was kind of surreal, knowing enslaved people got off boats here. It hit me.”

Boo hoo, right? Very teary, sad and maudlin face. Them poor spooks got put on a ship and had to traverse that infamous middle passage. Whole civilizations have been wrecked on the back of that tale of woe. Why back in the 1970s they conscripted Jew Ed Asner to put on a scowly face as an evil Captain (he had all but an eye patch!) and drive thumb screws cruelly into their hands. And if big fat tub of lard and Jew Ed Asner is working for a cause you know pretty soon our White daughters are going to get gang raped by a savage Somali. Indeed the one thing flows from the other just like night succeeds day. If any of the dull kids in slouching in the back row continue to not believe this I suggest they put down their mobile device and a read a book.

“Alexander and his bus full of Advanced Placement African American studies classmates embarked on a field trip that, by its very nature, would be controversial in many high schools across the country. Visiting the site that signifies the beginning of generations of chattel slavery in the U.S. and talking about the impacts of systematic enslavement could even violate some states’ educational policies. But that is why Edwin Allison, the teacher behind this trip, knows taking his students to this site is crucial to their education. When your school is 20 minutes from this historic place, it makes sense to take them there so they can see it and feel it. It makes a big difference. The dark grayish waves were quiet on this brilliantly sunny but cold day. The breeze was strong, forcing people to wrap up and pushing Alexander’s ‘70s-style Afro about. Just being here and thinking about what they were thinking; it had to be extremely scary and confusing, Alexander said. They had been forced from their country, thrown onto ships and then taken across the ocean here. Right here. Thinking about it while standing here makes you feel their pain.”

Shit howdy them niggers never had it so good. What they be crying about? They got the rep-a-marations now and they got the hand outs and they got everybody bowing down to them. They got people thinking that Kings of England were niggers, and all the Knights and all the ladies in waiting too. The whole gentry was coons and the Greek heroes they were darkies too. So what on earth does it mean to go to some supposed sacred sight and cry a river over long dead niggers? When you are in the pink of giveaways you don’t go wandering through the graveyard tearing up about how unfair you get treated do you? Hell no you don’t. What pain do you feel when you’ve bullied everyone in to making the world your oyster? You got the big fro and you stick your fist in the air and everyone scatters in front of you as you make your way to the pig trough and scoop up the cash. That sounds like a pretty good deal to me. But these blacks they know they have to drum up business and keep the racket on track so from time to time they have to remind the folks about those auction blocks. It sure beats working, this constant revival of once upon a time tragedy which, if you think about it, was just life moving on.

“Allison, a veteran African American history teacher at Granby High, last month took his students to this historic site, parts of which former President Barack Obama declared a national monument in 2011. Virginia Gov. Glenn Youngkin ordered that the pilot program for AP African American studies classes be reconsidered, but ultimately allowed the program to proceed. Nonetheless, Allison, who teaches this course, insists the foundation of it is empowering to all students — and not detrimental to anyone — and the trip to Fort Monroe strengthened those thoughts. Going to Fort Monroe, Alexander said, added depth to his life and outlook. The trip reinforced what I already knew about the true nature of slavery in this country, he said. I see how precarious my position is as a Black person in America. That’s empowering. NBC News accompanied them on the trip, where four students said the excursion left them feeling both emotional and inspired to encourage all other students to engage with learning African American history. They say the course will break down barriers and enlighten students, and not foster guilt among white people, which has been a common refrain for proponents of tempering the course.”

Not detrimental to anyone? Really? It is detrimental to us. First off we have to read this blather and see the pictures of the negroes on the school bus and other pictures of them sitting grim faced like their cat just died. And we have to see the token white kids sitting next to them, grim faced too contemplating how evil their ancestors are. You’d like one of them to say my goodness at least slavery forced the black man to perform a decent days’ labor now and again. Of course that would go over like a lead balloon but then people say they want free speech until someone begins to speak freely and they want diversity until someone is actually different. Anyway it sure now is n longer the time for the long face for the White folk, we no longer need to soulfully shoe gaze or keep our eyes downcast but need to start looking at the stars again. Just because the President said it was a holy shrine does not mean we need to genuflect or even reflect on its meaning which, if you think about it, is nil.

“I took this course to have a better understanding of my history as a Black person in America, he said. Until now so much of Black history had been glossed over — there’s hardly any real mention of slavery and its impact in most history classes. So, getting this greater context and perspective is eye-opening. A leader at school and home, her voice is the loudest in a family that has stressed Blackness since she was a child. I believe that my voice is everything, Roman said. My knowledge has shaped me to be powerful and to be a leader. Every moment I learn is another person learning with me. I am a mentor, a sister and a Black woman. In all these roles of my life, my Black history and what I know has helped me not only shape me to become a better person, but it helps me teach others about civil rights, justice and Black history.”

The notion that black history has been glossed over, well, I didn’t just drop down from Alpha Centauri and I did not just fall off a turnip truck and I was not born in a barn. And I am old enough to recall aright what happened the day before yesterday and for the past 100 years—and then some. And I know that we will never hear the end of the millionth telling of the woe betide saccharine tales of Emmet Till, and we got red lining up both the yang and the yin, and we hear tell of those corpses of rapists that got hung by racists. And Tulsa is a staple, and those Freedom Marchers who were blowing in the wind, and Michael Brown has eaten up more than one electronic page, and we had to see Trayvon in that space suit as if they were going to send monkeys up again, and George Floyd in the future will have his ugly mug plastered over United States High School history textbooks and the ones in the little grades as well. So the very notion that black history is somehow an unknown quantity or is a blank spot on the educational map is patently preposterous. Though they will harp on it like a monkey grinder plays the organ so the ludicrous music plays and gets some fools to believe them

“At 17, Malaundra Cook, an activist heavily involved with her school’s Black Student Union, also knows her voice. Her energy is infectious. She speaks fast and with conviction. There’s no better way to learn your history than to actively be a part of it, she said. Walking in the footsteps that my ancestors had previously was quite the experience. It brought some emotions to the surface, standing where slavery both started and started to end for many people. The trip added value to the class she took, she said, because it focuses on my own story of Black people and where we come from — the real stories. There’s more to us than great people like Harriet Tubman and Nat Turner. We came from a lot. Our history isn’t just about slavery.”

Did you catch that? Yes, of course you did and don’t gloss over it. What most people know of history could fit in a small corner of a postage stamp but for those us who have supped widely in Clio’s realm that above statement is a monster. Now Harriet Tubman, far from being great, might have freed the odd nigger or two—who knows?—but to call Nat Turner great really take the palm of depravity. This was a man who was nothing less than a homicidal maniac who thought he heard words from some supernatural being and went around slashing White throats and cutting off the hands of innocent White babies before he was put down like the rabid dog he most certainly was. For the negros this of course is the epitome of greatness, they think they are getting their own back for the alleged wrongs done them. But in fact Turner is not different from the hood rat knocking off the liquor store to get some cash for his drug habit, or the gang of Africans doing the smash and grab at the jewelry store to pick up something to sell on the black market. Their history most certainly is not just about slavery or even primarily about slavery. It’s about crime sprees and litters of untended children, and a culture so degraded that a fumigator would be wary to walk in to be rid of it.

“It is also rare that a teacher would express his emotions through tears. More than a few times, Allison has allowed the weight of Black history to pour out. The tears come from various places, Allison said. Anger. Deep pain. Frustration. Caring. They can all come together at once. He’s cried, and I understand why, Alexander said. It’s very powerful stuff he’s teaching. He’s talking about this day in and day out, educating us. There is pain in talking about what Black people have endured. There’s anger in having to go through what we did and still do have to go through. It has to wear on him.”

My goodness here comes the waterworks. That deep black history came like an avalanche upon him and he was overcome with grief. And this is not performative grief, this is the real thing, or at least real because he truly believe the lie. In his baby’s soul he really thinks what was done to the negros was a great world historical tragedy which needs constant redress. When in fact of course it was nothing but the small change of life. As has been said the story of history is the sound of soft silken slippers slowly descending the staircase and the thunder of jackboots going up. Though now the staircase has been commandeered and the ones who own it sequester the strong and let the race rabble have a ball and free for all for having done nothing at all. But the story of course is not yet done and when the time is right we’ll give those niggers something to cry about. And anyway you look at it there is no doubt about it, Ed Asner’s evil scowl notwithstanding.

[Douglas Mercer]

[Douglas Mercer]

[Douglas Mercer]

[Douglas Mercer]

[Douglas Mercer]

[Douglas Mercer]

[Douglas Mercer]

[Douglas Mercer]

[Will Williams]

Another great essay, Douglas. Surely something else of historical significance happened in 1619 than that.

What a depressing photo. That lone White girl's parents must be proud for submitting her to this cruel predicament.

"Now Harriet Tubman, far from being great, might have freed the odd nigger or two—who knows?"

Visitors to the Tubman African American Museum in Macon, Georgia know. Dr. Pierce explains, here: https://nationalvanguard.org/2015/07/br ... -children/

...The White fourth graders visiting the [Harriet Tubman] museum got a little sermon about the wickedness of slavery and of White people for having imposed it on Blacks. They also had a lecture on the history and accomplishments of Negroes, and each was handed a sheet headed “African American Inventor’s” (sic) listing 120 or so things supposedly invented by Blacks.

Here are the first six items on the list of Black inventions: the pyramids, paper, chess, the alphabet, medicine, and civilization.

After this start the rest of the list is a bit anticlimactic, with such items as the doorknob, the mop, the curtain rod, peanut butter, and the helicopter....