VALDARY: The Death of a Black Man

Take a black man and accuse him of adultery. Even worse, accuse him of rape. Spread a rumor that because of his skin color, he is inclined to be aggressive toward white women. Portray him in the most degrading way possible. Depict him devoid of all humanity. Preach that he and “his kind” are predisposed to be brute unintelligent beasts, who should at best be controlled by the innately “angelic” white population, and at worst, exterminated.

Opt for the latter. Preach it in your schools; preach it in your homes. Begin a campaign and devote yourselves to the mass slaughter of this race. Dress yourself in sheets of white; defend your towns, your family and your friends from the stench of this race. Burn crosses to intimidate their communities into silence. But do not stop there. Go farther.

Pursue these males wherever you can. Age does not matter; they can be five or fifty. Accuse them all of the most heinous of crimes imaginable. Evidence is irrelevant. Take your knife and your rope and all the townspeople that you know. Form a mob, form several. Wake them up in the dead of night. Their women and children will be screaming, but ignore their cries.

Drag the black men out of their beds. They will protest, they will swear they never did anything wrong, but do not listen to them. They are, after all, animals who have been raping your women and ruining civilization. So seize them, pull them kicking and screaming to the nearest tree you can find. Your buddies will back you up; they will support you. They have come out in the thousands and have egged you on. There is no need to let them down. 

Take your knife and stab at the black man’s body. Do not stop. He must be eradicated. Douse him in kerosene and tie the rope around his neck. Pay no attention to his gasping for breath; there is no need to let his humanity get in the way of the duty that you must perform. String him up. Tie him to the post. Tie the other end of the rope to the post. Can’t you hear the crowds chant? Can’t you hear them scream? They’re screaming for you. Set his flesh ablaze. Burn him to a crisp. Burn him till the life is snuffed out of him.

Now, take a picture. Memorialize your work for all eternity. Stand next to the rotting corpse and sing a song of victory. They will publish this image in the newspapers. Cut it out and hang it on your refrigerator door. Make copies out of it and give it to your neighbors. Turn it into postcards; send it all over the country. All of America must know that where the nigger resides, white men and women must rise up and take her nation back.

Ah yes, you, you will be the one who would have started it all. You will become prominent in all the great elite circles. You will be the one to be called upon to dine with great statesman and will be welcomed into high society. They will beg you to be friends with them and ask you of your methods on how to wipe out those greedy murderous insolent baboon blacks. Lead them! They want to become just like you; you are the savior who can inspire them! Professors in universities will study your methods for their research. You will rally their cause. 

They will build statues in your name. They will produce films in your honor. Your lynchings will make for glorious scenes in cinema that will tell the grand story of the birth of a nation. They will even commission operas to depict this epic of the White Race. Notable composers will complete the score. They will include the epithets you once hurled at the bleating baboons in their librettos. You will be the talk of the town. All will rise to see this grand opera wherever it is shown in America. You will be an icon.

But be warned: There will be those who protest. There always are. They will accuse you of evil. They will say you are not as good as you purport to be. They will say you hide behind the veneer of the white sheets you dress in but deep down you are the contemptible one. You are the one worthy of humanity’s scorn, not the black man.

Ignore them. This is for the sake of civilization. This is for the sake of elitism. This is for the sake of culture. This is for the sake of art. You are neither a murderer nor a vandal. You are a freedom fighter, and you must save your people from the black race’s powerful influence.  For this, the rope must be tightened. The subordinate primate must be massacred. His race must be eliminated, burnt to ashes, never again to rise.

For this the show must go on.

The above should stir and infuriate you. But this is no hypothetical -- not the events I describe, nor the positive portrayal of racist murderers on a notable stage. The esteemed New York Metropolitan Opera plans to present a production entitled, The Death of Klinghoffer, which pays tribute not to the victim of a vicious lynching, but rather to those who lynched him. Not only should this spark outrage within you, it should move you to action. Call the Met and tell them that this sort of propping up of  21st century klansmen and celebration of the massacre of Jews is unacceptable:

 

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