Black Men Punching White Women is MAGA's Last Gasp, Says Jewish Maven

As published at SubStack, 4/10/24:

[Camden, 5/18/15]

On 3/31/24, I wrote, “In NYC, two blacks have just been arrested for punching white women they didn’t know. Since there’s a clear pattern, these attacks weren’t “random,” as characterized by the Jewjewed media, or unprovoked. These women’s whiteness incensed 30-year-old Mallik Miah and 40-year-old Skiboky Stora. Beyond their race, their ability to say no added to the insult.”

On 4/8/24, Salon published Amanda Marcotte’s “Men punching random women in NYC: A desperate last gasp of the male rage fueling MAGA.” Only three men had been arrested for these assaults, with the first two black. One, Stora, has identified himself as black nationalist leader Marcus Garvey’s great great or just great grandson. His ranting videos against “systemic racism” make clear he’s no Trump supporter. The third arrested appears Hispanic, as is one suspect, seen on surveillance videos. Even if they’re whites who recently moved to New Jack City from Iowa or Kansas, there’s no evidence they’re MAGA assholes. Still, Jewish Marcotte makes the immediate leap to charge toxic white men, for that’s meant by MAGA. Although there are also blacks, browns and yellows wearing those hats, the image pushed by the Jewjewed press is of a crazed redneck.

Marcotte became known in 2006 for leading an online lynch mob against three whites accused of raping a black woman, “For awhile, I had to listen to how the poor dear lacrosse players at Duke are being persecuted just because they held someone down and fucked her against her will—not rape, of course, because the charges have been thrown out. Can’t a few white boys sexually assault a black woman anymore without people getting all wound up about it? So unfair.”

That case was so egregiously prosecuted, District Attorney Mike Nifong was disbarred and even jailed for “violating ethics standards.” Though all charges were dropped, Marcotte never apologized. Since I’ve never had the pleasure of looking into Amanda’s eyes from just inches away, sitting in the next barstool, I must rely on photos to conclude she’s supremely smug and arrogant.

Marcotte’s thinking is also entirely predictable, “The Christian version of the virgin birth is generally interpreted as super-patriarchal, where god is viewed as so powerful he can impregnate without befouling himself by touching a woman, and women are nothing but vessels.”

Since when is Jesus’ virgin birth “generally interpreted as super-patriarchal”? I don’t remember seeing “superpatriarchal” in a sentence, but I don’t read Ms. Magazine or Salon. Men too eager to touch women are deemed toxic, but to abstain, as with priests, is to be stunted and abnormal. A sexually healthy God who respected a woman’s body would have had many steamy sessions with Mary, but only after securing an unequivocal yes before each penetration, and just from the side, mind you, to show perfect equality. Cupping is divine. Loyola Marymount in LA must hire Marcotte immediately as theology professor. Better yet, Pope Francis should appoint her an Honorary Cardinal. That’s how you move in the 21st Century and redress, to the tiniest degree, your Holocaust sin. With compound interest, that debt will never be repaid.

Blacks attacking strangers is a feature of American life. On 10/28/16, I wrote:

Over three days last week, at least 150 blacks attacked whites at random around Temple University. Victims were surrounded, punched and kicked. Wallets and phones were stolen. Rocks were thrown at passing cars. When cops showed up, one was knocked from her bike and a police horse was even punched twice in the muzzle.

This is not new. In 2014, five black girls, aged 17, 15, 15, 15 and 14, committed three separate attacks on random white people at Temple University. Struck across the face with a brick, a 19-year-old white student suffered a fractured jaw and nearly had her teeth knocked out. Her 15-year-old assailant, Zaria Estes, was given a 2 ½-6 year sentence.

Across America, gangs of blacks have beaten random people for decades, just for the sport of it. This cathartic recreation has been dubbed wilding, catch and wreck, knock out game or flash mob, and it can happen at parks, shopping malls, state fairs or even your living room.

There’s nothing racist about my noticing that. Millions have. Living in Philly, it’d be fatal to ignore this phenomenon. Unlike most non-black Philadelphians, I routinely strayed into black neighborhoods. I liked to down a few at Scotty’s or Sit on It in Point Breeze. Barmaids Rose and Cynthia were so sweet. Off Broadway in Camden felt cozy enough, if you could reach it without being shot or knifed. When Christopher DeGroot moved to Philly, I took him to Scotty’s. Getting frisked at the door was a novel experience for Chris. Inside, a woman refused to let me sit on an empty stool next to her. Touchy pussies don’t survive Philly. We only left early because it’s way too loud to talk.

Philadelphian Meek Mill took off by leasing his asshole. “You reach and I start drawin’, ’cause I know the art of war.” Drawn on, Meek knows it inside out. So raw, it’s still hurting. Since the most toxic masculinity is in Jewish produced rap, Amanda is mum. After getting Diddly to kushn his schmok, Clive Davis used his buggered nigga to degrade blacks and whites.

So corny, I think Blondie’s “Rapture” is the best rap ever. Wandering Southeast Asian streets, I’m not plugged into anything, much less hip hop. Still, Diddly’s unraveling made me think of Philly, so let’s end with a heartwarming portrait of a Philadelphian.

In 2014, I met a homeless guy wrapped in a ragged comforter, sitting against a fence not two blocks from Scotty’s. Twenty-four-years-old, Divane had been an R&B and rap singer, he said.

Not cute enough to be diddled by Diddly or Clive Davis, Divane could only unzip his rhymes at house parties, until a struck bullet took out a piece of his nasal bone.

“You look fine,” I said after examining his face. “I don’t see anything.”

“The doctors did a good job.”

“Was the shooter aiming at you?”

“It’s complicated. Someone had his penis punctured and so it had to happen that way.”

I didn’t expect none of this mystical shit. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

“I ain’t gay. I like women, but someone had his penis punctured. It’s about integrity.”

“That’s all you have.”

“Correct, and once it’s lost, you’re gone!”

“You can get it back.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Life is long, dude, you can lose all kinds of shit, so if you lose your integrity, you can get it back.”

“No, you can’t.” Even more sagely, Divane added, “There was a lot of electricity in the air. It came through the television.”

Divane said he had also been a basketball player. I can ball, too. Yeah, right.

Rereading “Rapture,” I realize it’s mostly garbage, but that’s just American culture. At least it’s not Satanic sludge.

Looking up, I see a sunlit street in a mellow city by the ocean. Judging by its surface, it’s not fatally sick. At Cóc Cóc Coffee, a coconut with a straw sticking out of its trepanned hole is just a buck. I must have one more, then.

[Camden, 5/18/15]

[Philadelphia, 9/15/12]

[Off Broadway in Camden on 9/12/16]

[Point Breeze in Philadelphia on 3/15/15]