Colin Flaherty, the author of the best-seller, White Girl Bleed A lot, has once again revealed his heroism in his latest, Don’t Make the Black Kids Angry.
Not since Ilana Mercer’s, Into the Cannibal’s Pot: Lessons for America from Post-Apartheid South Africa, have we witnessed such steely resolve in reckoning with the great unmentionable evil of black criminality and violence.
Don’t Make the Black Kids Angry consists of 511 pages, 944 endnotes, and a super abundance of references to videos meticulously documenting over 1,000 instances of black mob violence spanning just the last few years.
From sea to shining sea, in hundreds of cities both large and small, and in every region of the country, mobs of (mostly young) black people—males and females—have been busy unleashing reigns of terror upon virtually every other conceivable demographic: whites, Hispanics, and Asians; homosexuals, Jews, the elderly, women, small children, even babies; the mentally and physically disabled, bicyclists and hikers; veterans, Sikhs and students.
The terror knows no boundaries. It takes holidays, but it takes them hostage, for Memorial Day, the Fourth of July, and even Christmas Day have repeatedly been occasions for mass property destruction, brutal beatings, stabbings, and shootings. And beaches, parades, malls, shopping centers, sports stadia, high schools, college campuses, festivals (including Asian festivals), gas stations, parks, and biking trails have been among the locations for these displays of inhumanity.
Of course, we’d be remiss if we didn’t list the police among the victims of black mob violence. It’s always the same: Hundreds of black people set their sights upon the properties and persons of their victims, the thin blue line asserts itself, and the rioters attack the forces of law and order with a range of weaponry: rocks, bricks, bottles, and—get this—even fireworks, i.e. makeshift bombs.
While the terror of Islamic militants is accompanied by cries to Allah, that of the black mobs is accompanied by…laughing.
Lots of laughing.
Flaherty frequently cites Marlin Newburn, a prison psychologist who “has been on the front lines of racial violence for 30 years.” According to Newburn, these “predators,” do not reflect “a subculture,” but “a primary part of the black culture [.]” This culture “is one of sadistic and primitive impulse where they [the predators] believe themselves to be 10 feet tall, bulletproof, very smart, good looking, gifted, and tougher than anyone.” These “predators” live “without any sense of personal responsibility or boundaries with others.” Hence, while “assaulting or killing someone, the absence of a conscience is considered among their peers as an indicator of strength and power.” The expression of “joy in the process [of violence] only heightens their street cred.”
When two Muslim thugs shot up Charlie Hebdo, segments of the American media were apoplectic over the number of France’s “No-Go” zones, Islamic neighborhoods that non-Muslims dare not enter. Yet America has had legions of its own No-Go zones for decades: We just call them “inner cities.”
This is no hyperbole.
Flaherty relays the story of a “Californian college girl” who was arrested at an airport in Chicago and then released by police into the city’s “deepest and most dangerous ghetto [.]” Within no time, she was set upon and thrown from the top of a seven-story building. Her family sued the city. During the trial, a professor from Harvard introduced the court to “Routine Activities Theory” (RAT), the fancy name given by specialists to the phenomenon of violence committed by blacks against whites who pass through black neighborhoods.
The judge presiding over the trial declared that being a white woman “‘in a predominantly black, poor neighborhood,” the victim “had a much higher risk of predatory victimization.’”
Translation: For whites, areas that are “predominantly black” and “poor” are No-Go Zones.
Flaherty speaks to another dimension of this national scourge of black mob violence that is no less frightening than the violence itself:
The vermin in the streets that are traumatizing, hospitalizing, and murdering innocents have enablers and even apologists in the media.
Whether locally or nationally, members of the press invariably ignore or otherwise misrepresent the nature of black mob violence. Readers of this column know the drill: Reporters either won’t remark at all on black-on-non-black terror or, if they do, they fail to mention the races of the attackers and their victims, choosing instead to refer to the assailants simply as “teens” while waxing perplexed as to how or why the incident in question occurred.
No short supply of media talking heads, along with their accomplices in academia, Hollywood, and Washington D.C., go so far as to excuse black mob violence. The most common strategy of choice is to invoke what is known in academia as “Critical Race Theory” (CRT), the theory that, ultimately, black criminals are the victims, the victims of “institutional racism.” Their white prey, though, are the real culprits, for they enjoy “white skin privilege” courtesy of an incorrigibly racist society.
Flaherty nicely distills the essence of CRT: “Critical Race Theory says three things: White racism is permanent, everywhere and explains everything.”
The apologists are what Hannah Arendt referred to as “accessories” to the crimes of those for whom they run cover. Thus, they too shoulder responsibility for this wickedness.
Flaherty writes: “I’m not frightened of black mob violence. But I am terrified of the bat shit crazy people in the media and government who ignore it, condone it, encourage it, and even lie about it.”
He concludes: “Now those folks are dangerous.”
Colin Flaherty is a national treasure. It is at our peril that we neglect his Don’t Make the Black Kids Angry.
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