I got a letter from The Amish, the other day. I opened it and read it, and said they were bastards.What in the living hell did I ever do to them? Nothing, goddamn it; Nothing. But on the other hand, that's what happens when you ring the big triangle that says: The line for the Victim's Trough forms over here! Come n' Git It! All of a sudden, you have all sorts of people who haven't had that bad a go of it, really, when you consider. They just understand that Victimhood has a certain cachet to it...And it's profitable.
That's why I'm not taking any goddamn more chances with this thing. Some of you have lawyers! And maybe the worst thing that ever happened to you was feeling a little sorry about something sometime, but that's neither here nor there, friend. I apologize: that's why I'm here.
So I say to Other White Men: from the bottom of my tired old heart, I'm so very sorry. Can you please forgive me? Where shall I begin?
Oh, maybe giving you a world so very suited to your very existence that it causes others to resent you automatically, even though you wear The Dreadlocks and really are A Pacifist? But on the other hand, you are what you are, and you want what you want. It turns out that you, my Impastafarian friend, want convenience.
Well, now that you've noticed that entire civilizations perish whilst you seek your Doritos, and wish to blame someone else for it, please accept my deepest apologies.
Or! Or: you note that perhaps The Earth is suffering, and you wish to score some easy points, causing you to get Laid. Who to blame? Oh, I don't know; Me?
You, my lad, could have been partaking in This Fine-Looking Buffet here, but no: you'd like us all to know how very sensitive you are. Well, congratulations, and welcome. You're no better than Nader, you know.
Oh, and you might well have noticed that you have somewhat less of a life-expectancy than The Women. Allow me to quote from The Romans:
“Fellow citizens, this day at dawn Romulus, the father of this city, glided down from heaven and presented himself before me. As I stood before him awe-struck and abashed and prayed it might be lawful for me to look directly at him,”
(I am sorry. This will pick up in a moment. But you have to admire the orderliness of a man confronted by an apparition from beyond the dead whose only thoughts are of the accepted law on the subject. Read on:)
“He said, 'Go proclaim to the Romans it is heaven's will that my Rome shall be the capital of the world; accordingly they must cherish soldierliness, and they must be assured, and they must transmit to posterity the assurance that no human power can withstand Roman arms'.
“So saying, he departed on high.”
Well, maybe it's the translation that failed to convey my point there. But 'soldierliness' is indeed what we are striving for, and I'd like to thank You as The White Men for going right ahead and being Just That, at all times.
It causes ulcers, heart attacks, insanity (plus the high possibility of actually dying in wars), but such things keep the ship streaming ever triumphantly forward. If you were not exactly that sort of thing that appears insane to so many Others, you would not be where you are today, i.e. Undisputed Master of All You Survey!
To be sure; The Wife doesn't understand you. The Children resent you. You are hated and reviled in those Pygmy Nations elsewhere. You must turn to liquor and whoremongering to quell your rage and well-suppressed doubts, and even those things don't preclude your wandering into The McDonald's with an automatic weapon and liberally peppering the crowd with buckshot. But you are a true hero, and when I hear some of you say that both biology and nationalism have made you into hulking wrecks, I despair.
Without you, who shall build the chemical plants? The munitions factories? Who would staff the prisons that are necessary for housing the increasing numbers of miscreants? Who would coach the Little League, be Den-Father to Boy Scouts and provide the special teachings to young men that only a member of The Clergy can?
So I say to you on this day: be proud, and never falter! To those who suggest otherwise, question their sexual preferences! Go play football, and ridicule those who would not! Set foot in taverns, and try to entice the woman half your age behind the bar into sexual congress with You! When she fails to respond appropriately, you may then get in A Big Fight with one of your fellows! Then when you are at home (or in the drunk tank), you may tell all how they don't appreciate you at all, and how it's about time that you got a little gratitude around here!
When you are done beating a little gratitude into them, you may nestle your drunken, scarred head against the pillow and dream the dream of a true conqueror. Crying a little, perhaps. Wake up tomorrow and go back to work at The Chemical Plant.
You've Earned It. I'm sorry.