Who is Number 1? A white supremacist, I'll bet
A few weeks ago, you may recall, Whitey was informed that milk, and presumably the drinking thereof, was racist. I know. I know. One or two of you may have stopped and looked to see if this is April 1. But, in terms of the semiotics of race relations, this where we at, chillun.
Given that everything white people do or say is racist, even when we are not aware of it, I suppose milk was bound to get its come-uppance, and to have its cone-headed sheet ripped from its white-supremacist face. Cows too must presumably accept their share of the blame for their cow-lonial past and current moo-cro aggressions. Reparations. There’s no udder way. Now I know why our milkman always had a copy of Mein Kampf in his milk float.
But there is a new bad boy in town, all blazing crosses and nooses and strange fruit hanging in the poplar trees. You’ve done it. I’ve done it. All white people have done it. And now we know why. Because oppression of black bodies.
The ‘okay’ sign – a loop formed with thumb and index finger while the remaining digits flare above – was certainly in use when I was a small boy, back in the early 18th century. Had I known it was a sign of racist oppression, I would never, ever have used it, and can only hang my head in shame at the realisation that I did. I will offer the meagre contents of my wallet to the next black chap I see by way of reparations, and urge him to spend it on the largest pair of trousers he can find.
Now, I have recently had a change of heart concerning racism and its attendant semaphore system, the dog whistles black people and their white handlers – oops, I meant ‘enablers’ – hear constantly like the drone of cicadas. Not so long ago, it made me angry that blacks and their white, virtue-signalling stooges could tell me that each small movement I made or phrase I used hid in its black heart the rotting carcass of racism. Now, I pull up a deck-chair, crack a cold one and have a fucking good laugh. We need humour in the end-times, and by Christ does the race-baiting industry – patron saint Barack Obama – provide it in droves. (Note to subs; is ‘droves’ racist? Please check!).
Incidentally, the ‘okay’ sign is used throughout the brilliant 60s cult TV series The Prisoner (see picture above). Curiously, and rather multiculturally, it is first used by a young Japanese girl who drives Number 6 to the local café. It does have the novel twist of the user looking through the loop and saying “Be seeing you”, but is essentially the same sign. Now, it has apparently become the Nazi gang-sign du jour.
Mike Cernovich and Cassandra Fairbanks, two Alt. Right luminaries, made the sign on a visit to The White House, and the wrath of black people everywhere has since been stoked by white journalists eager to use their swarthy stooges to further their white-hating agenda. Now, The Independent – a UK newspaper heading for the iceberg – reports that something called the ‘Anti-Defamation League’ – presumably a Soros sock-puppet – has deemed the sign to be racist. And so it is and must be.
There isn’t much point in looking into the semiotics of what is and is not racist this week. It is more fun trying to predict what will be racist next week. Here are my predictions, runners and riders, for what will be painful reminders of slavery seven days hence:
· The Wombles
· Finials. (These are those fascist things on the end of curtain rails that stop your drapes slipping off)
· Waving at trains
· Looking in the mirror while brushing your hair
· Cartoon air-fresheners in cars
· Ties with spots on
· My old mum
· Football boots
You read it here first.
Now, there is a developing industry in the semiotics of racism. I will leave you, gentle and racist reader, with one of my personal favourites from the last, lynch-mob-glorifying week. I have not invented it. I rather pride myself on my powers of literary invocation, but even I lack the sheer sense of narratio fabuloso required for this little cracker.
The University of Oxford, does not, of course, exist. Like Cambridge, Oxford has a collective collegiate system. But you can bet your bottom euro that it has an Equality and Diversity Unit, and you would win the bet. Its once-famous philosophy departments may be withering on the vine – too many dead white males, don’t you know – but the Equality and Diversity Unit is doing a roaring trade and, doubtless, receiving plentiful funding for spouting the multicultural, anti-white gibberish now endemic to all universities. Here is an excerpt from their 2017 Trinity term – that’s a phrase we won’t be seeing for long before it is turned into Mandela term or Mohammed term - newsletter;
‘Sometimes called “micro-aggressions”, subtle, everyday racism can appear trivial. (Note to authors; that’s because it fucking is). But repeated micro-aggressions can be tiring and alienating (and can lead to mental ill-health).’
In passing, we note that the ‘okay’ sign is also the representative of the letter Q in British Sign Language, which is what deaf people use to communicate. So, presumably, every time a deaf person signs ‘Queer’ to another deaf person, they are being racist as well as homophobic. Nice work, O Oxford, home to the oldest university in the known world.
It goes on to list the usual hilarious inventory of naughtiness which white people are always and everywhere guilty of. One of these is failure to make eye-contact with, you know, people of colour, trannies, Dragon-people and all the rest. I have a suggestion, and I hope that, in its way, it can help just a little to heal the wounds cause by racism.
Get your skinny white arses down to Peckham in south London. When you have finished your Starbucks latte, walk around the streets. Now, I want you to make eye-contact with every young black man you see.
When you have been discharged from St. George’s Hospital in Tooting, come back and re-write that fucking article.
Be seeing you.