Douglas Mercer
November 2 2024
The Jewish Media likes to dress up a chimp out and call it the Watts Rebellion or the Watts Uprising, and if by that they mean that they were rebelling against common decency and they were rising up against the notion that they should have to exhibit self-control then those monikers are right on the money. But what it really is is the Jews trying to hoodwink the dullards (whose ranks ever steadily grow) into thinking that there was some wrong done and that the niggers chimping out was somehow justified. That’s a rationalization of first order and it’s Jewish wool gathering in the first instance. Why, there has been so much nigger mayhem since Watts that it’s good from time to time revisit the primal scene when the ape went apeshit. And to delineate the guilty parties who gave aid and comfort to the niggers in their swinging from the trees of our civilization with their big lipped flat faces and always odorous violence. The niggers are not really guilty as you can’t expect the savages to act according to proper dictates, the savages are intrinsically given to sudden outbursts of sullen rage and can’t really be held accountable for the small size of their brains and their disgusting genetics. On the other hand anyone who at the time did not advocate or perform simply putting them down like the rabid dogs they are, well, they are now and forever on the hook.
“On the night of May 7 1966, after a chase that began in Watts and ended some 50 blocks farther north, two Los Angeles policemen, Caucasians, succeeded in halting a car driven by Leonard Deadwyler, a Negro. With him were his pregnant wife and a friend. The younger cop (who'd once had a complaint brought against him for rousing some Negro kids around in a more than usually abusive way) went over and stuck his head and gun in the car window to talk to Deadwyler. A moment later there was a shot; the young Negro fell sideways in the seat, and died. The last thing he said, according to the other cop, was, She's going to have a baby.”
So wrote Thomas Pynchon, the notorious recluse of American Letters. Aside from his long absurd forays into the world of literature he is famous worldwide for staying strictly and obsessively mum; there is one glaring exception to this rule when on June 12 1966 he decided to try his hand at social criticism. Naturally he used his alleged high powered lens to say everything that the Jews wanted him to say and in the event he disgraced his race and he disgraced his family and he disgraced his ancestors. He hailed from a long line of White men who were in this country from the beginning and if the chronic dope smoking and the scattershot plots were not bad enough he put on the hat of an Anti-Racist and made excuse after excuse for the niggers. It must have been gratifying to the Jews to have such a supposed heavy weight trot out the required bromides with such arch language; but one quick look at his essay shows him to be the simpleton he so surely is under the cloak of his Big Ideas. And as for him being some battler against the system, if there’s ever been a lackey of the system so glaring and obvious no one has ever heard of it. His essay appeared in the Jew paper of record (The New York Times) and was called a Journey Into the Mind of Watts. One would assume that it would be short to nonexistent as there is no mind in Watts—just feral instinct and violent savagery, but he padded it out with cliché after cliché and when he was done the Jews patted him on his fuzzy head and said you did good Son—now go off and blather incoherently about the Nazis.
“Snipers are sniping but so far not hitting much of anything. Occasional fire bombs are being lobbed at cars with white faces inside, or into empty sports models that look as if they might be white property. There have been a few fires of mysterious origin. The neighborhood may be seething with social workers, data collectors, VISTA volunteers and other assorted members of the humanitarian establishment, all of whose intentions are the purest in the world. But somehow nothing much has changed. There are still the poor, the defeated, the criminal, the desperate, all hanging in there with what must seem a terrible vitality.”
The story of Watts is a tragic one; in the 1940s the so called Second Great Migration transpired when black workers and families migrated to the California in large numbers, in response to defense industry recruitment efforts at the start of World War 2. President Franklin D. Roosevelt issued Executive Order 8802 directing defense contractors not to discriminate in hiring or promotions, opening up new opportunities for minorities. The black population in Los Angeles dramatically rose from approximately 63,700 in 1940 to about 350,000 in 1965, rising from 4% of L.A.'s population to 14%.
What ironies are contained in this description beggars belief; the Jews throw fairy dust in the eyes of normal Americans that they need to go on a great Crusade to Save the Jews and so in order to crank up the blast furnace of production they import hundreds of thousands of negros into the Golden State. You get that many blacks concentrated in any area whatsoever and you can write off White Paradise; the only thing that is surprising is that it took some twenty years for the bill to come due but one look at the headlines and you are sure we have been paying it ever since.
“Lying much closer to the heart of L.A.'s racial sickness is the co-existence of two very different cultures: one white and one black. The black culture is stuck pretty much with basic realities like disease, like failure, violence and death, which the whites have mostly chosen—and can afford—to ignore. The two cultures do not understand each other, though white values are displayed without let-up on black people's TV screens, and though the panoramic sense of black impoverishment is hard to miss from atop the Harbor Freeway, which so many whites must drive at least twice every working day. Somehow it occurs to very few of them to leave at the Imperial Highway exit for a change, go east instead of west only a few blocks, and take a look at Watts. A quick look. The simplest kind of beginning.”
Here the budding hippie shows his hand, suggesting that a White man, out of the goodness of his heart he supposes, should just take a quick detour into the heart of darkness and take a look around. Of course any sane White men or women knows that’s the surest way and a not-so-subtle invitation to get killed or raped and if that is what a simple beginning looks like they’d just as soon never start.
One can get a glimpse into the madness of the hash smoking novelist by recalling the simple tale of those August days in 1965: On August 11, 1965, Marquette Frye, a 21-year-old black man was pulled over for drunk driving. After he failed a field sobriety test, officers attempted to arrest him. Marquette resisted arrest, with assistance from his mother, Rena Frye; a physical confrontation ensued in which Marquette was struck in the face with a baton. Six days of civil unrest followed which resulted in 34 deaths and 40 million in property damage.
We assume that the 40 million figure is high as a black man’s shanty can’t be worth that much, but here you have it. A drunken nigger resists arrest and next thing you know the town is in flames; it’ tale much more than twice told by now. And soon the trendy auteur is in town to tut tut about the Evil Whites. And calling it “civil unrest” is about as accurate as calling Jonestown a Mercy Killing, but then the Jews have never been known for what can be considered strict linguistic verisimilitude. And as for the great man peddling this essay if that’s what literary greatness consists of in this country count me out.
“Watts lies impacted in the heart of this white fantasy. It is, by contrast, a pocket of bitter reality. The only illusion Watts ever allowed itself was to believe for a long time in the white version of what a Negro was supposed to be. But with the Muslim and civil-rights movements that went, too. If you do get to where you were going without encountering a cop, you may spend your day looking at the white faces of personnel men, their uniform glaze of suspicion, their automatic smiles, and listening to polite putdowns.”
The black man has it hard! White society, the hard work of millennia, rightly viewed the negro with horror and suspicion, and did what it could to keep it at bay. It was not the White man’s fantasy that the black man lived in, it was the bitter fruit of his own violence, stupidity, and ineptitude. Of course when the big wigs from Washington DC in something called the Kerner Commission came along with their snooty noses high in the air they endorsed the Pynchonian view of the poor put upon negro; and as for Watts and the other pyromaniac activities of the benighted race gave them a great big pass concluding that the rioting was a response to decades of pervasive discrimination and segregation; that White racism is essentially responsible for the explosive mixture which has been accumulating in our cities since the end of World War II; and that what white Americans have never fully understood—but what the Black can never forget—is that white society is deeply implicated in the ghetto. White institutions created it, white institutions maintain it, and white society condones it. Which only goes to show that having two eyes and one brain is not nearly enough: one needs to know how to use them. Otherwise, one indulges in a febrile fantasy life so deep and engrained that lie after lie comes off one’s lips at the least provocation.
“A Watts kid knows more of what goes on inside white heads than possibly whites do themselves; knows how often the little man has looked at him and thought: Bad credit risk, or Poor learner, or Sexual threat, or Welfare chiseler—without knowing a thing about him personally. The same goes for boys who like to wear Malcolm hats, or Afro haircuts. As for violence, in a pocket of reality such as Watts, violence is never far from you: because you are a man, because you have been put down, because for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
To say that the past half century has not been kind to the fortunes of that paragraph is to say way too little. Take a look at the current school performance of the blacks, or the black rape statistics, of the massive amount of Welfare that has been thrown down their rat holes and one does not need to know anything about any of them personally. And the Whites of the time knew exactly what was going on inside their own heads and they knew it was sane and sound common sense. The White then knew what Thomas Jefferson knew when he called the black man a wolf; the Whites then knew what the White men of the post Civil War Era knew, that you set the negro free and the murder and the rape will and the social deterioration will commence. Indeed American history can fruitfully be seen as a long struggle to liberate the black man and the results were on our screens with the George Floyd rampages of 2020 and in the fine print of police blotters, in the blood splattered streets, and the rancid and evil music that blares daily in our children’s ears . For it is a truth that the likes of the Thomas Pynchons of the world, in their deep Northern Californian hideaways or their stately Upper West Side Mansions, can afford to ignore or simply are too stupid to realize; that you set the negros free and the blood will soon be lapping at your door.
“They remember the August riots as an outburst, a seizure. Yet what, from the realistic viewpoint of Watts, was so abnormal? Man's got his foot on your neck, said one guy who was there, sooner or later you going to stop asking him to take it off. Far from a sickness, violence may be an attempt to communicate, or to be who you really are. As this summer warms up, the riots are being remembered less as chaos and more as art.”
Art indeed; like some Picasso Canvas with all the body parts chopped up and looking out at you like some madhouse image; and recall that this is from him whom they call the Great Man Of American Literature; but 1966 was a watershed time in America and in a rightful world our men of letters are supposed to be the sages and seers and the heart of the community; but when they do the tourist hit and run in a war torn country, and they ignore the very nature of the negro and his destruction, and pompously lacerate the people from who’s borne they come; well, after that knowledge, there can be no means of forgetting and no forgiveness at all for much more than a thousand years.
Watts
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Douglas Mercer
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