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Tag: Hispanics

STIHIE: Free Beer for Latino Heritage

Isn’t corporate advertising great?

Earlier this year, Budweiser sponsored the rollout of the film Cesar Chavez (yes, really) and decided to reward Latino audience members at one showing for their special, Latino heritage – with a free beer. And only the audience members who understood Spanish would be able to get a Bud. This apparently makes for good advertising.

Watch as we’re all supposed to laugh at the gringos for sitting in ignorance while the Hispanics have all the fun outside. It appears Budweiser knows where the demographics are heading and knows Whites aren’t the future in this bizarre ad.

Isn’t corporate advertising great?

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The Bright Side of Illegal Immigration

Illegal immigration might not be so bad after all.

Originally published November 2012 at Jack-Donovan.com

I had an epiphany a couple of months ago.

After looking over their shoulders, some co-workers started complaining about all of the illegals in our industry. As their go-to right-wing ideologue, I smiled, took a deep breath, and mentally arranged my collection of completely legitimate complaints, theoretical objections, snarky cheap shots and racist laughs.

Then it hit me.

Illegal immigration might not be so bad after all.

Sure, every group is defined by its borders, and you can’t make rational decisions—let alone collective decisions—for a group if you don’t know who is in and who is out. It doesn’t matter if the group is a team, a tribe, or a nation. If your group has open boundaries, it really isn’t a group at all. Your group, if it is even your group, is loosely “whoever shows up at any given time.” That makes it virtually impossible to maintain security or do any kind of meaningful long-term planning. People who simply come and go as free agents share no common culture or connection. Everyone, at least theoretically, is just passing through. It doesn’t make sense to run any group that way.

“Who’s on your football team?”

“I guess those guys out there.”

“Do they know the plays?”

“I doubt it.”

“Do they know the rules of football?”

“Can’t be sure.”

“Can you talk to them?”

“I can try. Oh, wait. There’s another one. And those two look like they’re leaving.HEY! You guys!”

(Points and gestures.)

“This is going to be a great game.”

Illegal immigration also hits me where I live. I like to do simple, honest jobs. I drive a delivery truck so I don’t have to swindle people, or tell lies, or send passive-aggressive emails cc-ing someone’s supervisor. I can write what I want and I don’t have some prissy Human Resources busybody reading my blog. The thing about simple, honest work, though, is that it generally doesn’t require a lot of experience or educational background, and usually requires some physical labor. In most places in America, that puts me in direct competition for jobs with illegal immigrants.

Illegals are happy to work 60 hours a week. They’ll take split shifts and split days off. They’ll work days and nights and graveyard shifts. They’ll do whatever you tell them to do, whether it’s the job you hired them for, or scrubbing a toilet. Illegals will let you talk to them like morons, whether they’re morons or not. They’ll whistle while they work like good little dwarves, they’ll stick around forever, and they’ll do it all for peanuts.

Why?

Because they don’t have a lot of other options.

Who cares if they can’t speak English at an elementary school level? They’re cheap!

Lift-o, the boxes-o!

Ándale! Ándale! Arriba! Arriba! Arriba! 

The presence of “undocumented workers” or illegals with fake paperwork in an industry translates to worse hours and lower pay for anyone else working in their industry. Illegals raise an employer’s expectations of how much his labor dollar will buy, and lower what he expects to offer in terms of benefits and accommodations. Why should he treat you with respect when he can treat Pedro like shit and get the same work done, and for half as much money?

Uncontrolled immigration is bad for security and long-term planning. It lowers quality of life for working people. It creates disharmony and ethnic tension. It grinds my gears because I want things to make sense, and poorly managed immigration just doesn’t make sense for a nation if you want the best for the people of that nation—if you want that nation to succeed.

But, what if you don’t want it to succeed? What if you want your nation to fail?

If, as Richard Spencer recently wrote, one’s aim is to “actively disengage from this equally evil and stupid political system,” and the idea is to hasten the failure of that system, then why get your chonies in a bunch about a big, fat wrench in the works like illegal labor?

Instead of blustering on about all of the ways that it darkens the nation, I’ve decided to look for the bright side of illegal immigration.

Because it has failed to secure its borders and enforce its own immigration laws to protect the interests of its citizens, the United States government has undermined its own authority and created a nation of bourgeois criminals. Instead of respecting the rule of law, millions of average, hard working Americans have chosen to ignore the law and abandon any sense of community and allegiance to each other. To make a profit, they hire foreigners because it’s cheaper and easier than hiring their neighbors’ kids and the people they grew up with. In a sane country, we’d hang these people for treason—or at least socially shun them—but America stopped making sense a long time ago. One wonders if a nation built on merchant morality and short-term profit seeking ever made much sense.

You can’t even blame illegal immigration on big, global corporations. Small businesses might hire the document challenged to compete with big business prices, but hiring illegals isn’t GloboCorp’s game. GloboCorp has enough pesos to outsource labor anywhere in the world. GloboCorp screws over working people and undermines the state in completely different way.

No, the businesses that create a market for illegal labor—the businesses that lure illegal immigrants into America—are small businesses. It’s mom and pop who are hiring Juan instead of John. Conservatives love to condemn about illegal immigrants and sing the praises of small businesses, but it is small businesses who hire workers under the table and build their whole business models on breaking the law. Then they call their confessions to drive time talk show hosts and look for absolution by complaining that in a country with a high unemployment rate, they simply can’t find any Americans who are willing to do hard work. I’m not saying a lot of young Americans aren’t lazy or entitled, but if as an employer you feel entitled to treat your employees like refugees from a Third World Country, why would any First World workers want to work for you? The grass gets cut both ways when you pay minimum wage (or less).

I’ve been in a lot of snazzy restaurant kitchens over the years. I know for a fact that at least twenty percent of the folks washing your dishes and prepping your $30 entrees can’t pass The Roy Rogers Test.

(If you can’t say the R’s in Roy Rogers, you probably weren’t born on this side of the Rio Grande, and if you’re washing dishes, you probably didn’t go through the lengthy and complex legal immigration process. The Roy Rogers Test is probably about as accurate as E-Verify.)

Illegals with fake paperwork are stocking your warehouses and picking your potatoes and setting up the white tents for your fairy tale weddings. So many people are somehow involved in turning a blind eye to illegal labor. It’s not just some swaggering dickhead plantation owner with a big brass belt buckle; it’s also his sweet old accounting lady and the chipper bilingual stooge he hired to manage the operation. It’s Bob the Builder with his pickup truck. It’s all of the regular white guys like me who just shrug their shoulders, accept it as reality, and end up teaching their customers words like “celery.” We all know what’s up. As with Prohibition, almost everyone is somehow wink-and-nod complicit in this crime that unde
rmines the rule of law in America. And, instead of enforcing the law and protecting the interests of the nation as a whole, every President from Reagan to Obama has allowed this middle class anarchy to flourish. They even dangle amnesty in front of illegals every few years to reassure them that crossing the border was a swell idea, after all.

Illegal immigration may be slowing down, but it’s still happening, and millions of legitimate American citizens remain out of work while employers hire illegals instead of Americans.

People try to say that America is simply “changing,” but that’s the liberal language of passive resignation. It’s like convincing yourself that getting prison-banged by Bubba is merely “changing” the shape of your lower intestine. America isn’t simply “changing.” It’s getting torn apart from the inside, it’s bleeding internally, everyone is looking the other way, and no one is coming to help.

Illegal immigration is killing my grandfather’s America, but that America is never coming back.  The bright side I see is that this is all part of the process of creating a failed state—a state where no one believes in the system, where the government is just another shakedown gang, where no one confuses the law with justice. A state where there is no such thing as a law-abiding citizen, a state full of middle class criminals. A state where overregulation and corruption, combined with a lack of the will and the resources to enforce the law, leads to widespread civil disobedience.

In a failed state, we go back to Wild West rules, and America becomes a place for men again—a land full of promise and possibility that rewards daring and ingenuity, a place where men can restart the world.

Yippee ki-yay, motherfuckers.

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The Hard Road for Putin

While there are many unanswered questions about the disaster and the dishonesty and hysteria of Western propaganda goes without saying, the objective political reality remains the same. The narrative has already solidified in the West–and Putin is to blame. 

The glee with which the Washington foreign policy establishment greeted the crash of flight MH-17 is matched only by their silence about the continuing slaughter in Eastern Ukraine. Not only did they get to move the Central American invasion off the front page, the media and politicians got a chance to play their favorite sport of bear-baiting. While there are many unanswered questions about the disaster and the dishonesty and hysteria of Western propaganda goes without saying, the objective political reality remains the same. The narrative has already solidified in the West–and Putin is to blame.

Only a few weeks after being regarded by friend and foe as a master geopolitical strategist, Vladimir Putin is suddenly faced with a far more hostile Europe. In his attempt to pin the blame for the crash on Ukraine, President Putin also casually conceded that the area was Ukrainian territory. Perhaps this was his objective all along, as he has not been especially enthusiastic about aiding the “Novorossia” separatists. However, if the end result of the Ukrainian crisis is the tenuous seizure of Crimea (unrecognized by the rest of the world), the reduction of Russian influence in Ukraine and Europe, and the defeat of pro-Russian forces in the east, Putin will appear weak for the first time.

Russia is also under increasing economic attack designed to break the regime. “Capital is a coward” as they say, and the hallmark of American foreign and domestic policy is to harness corruption and degeneracy to further the country’s own ends. Russian billionaires are already feeling pressure and are being confronted with a choice of turning on Putin or jeopardizing their economic relations in the West.

Ironically, pressure on Putin is intensifying at the very moment he is acquiescing to the West’s wishes. He has held back from invading Ukraine. Russian nationalists are no longer enjoying access to the media, and even Alexander Dugin’s star has faded within officialdom. However, even as Putin is becoming more “pragmatic,” the pressure for sanctions is increasing.

Part of Putin’s problem is that he has been too clever by half. Throughout the crisis, Russia has maintained that Ukraine is being run by “fascists” and “Nazis.” While it’s true the only overt “Nazis” that seem to be fighting in the area are fighting for Ukraine, the nationalists seem to have little power within the current Ukrainian government and are mostly being used for cannon fodder.

Unfortunately, outside Galicia, Russia’s only real friends in the West are on the right. From Nigel Farage and Marine Le Pen in Europe to Ron Paul and Pat Buchanan in the United States, Putin only gets a fair hearing from what can roughly be called the Dissident Right in the West. Social democrats and neoconservatives are too busy raging against him as a “tyrant” because he doesn’t allow enough gay pride parades. Occasionally, this even leads to what can only be called coded appeals for pre-emptive war against one of the greatest powers in the world–what Steve Sailer called “World War G.”

Since the beginning of his time in office, Vladimir Putin’s number one goal has been to prevent a State Department/Soros funded color coded “revolution” on the streets of Moscow. For that reason, he has imposed restrictions on foreign “activist” organizations backed by foreign money. Even his supposed crackdown on homosexuals is a ban on homosexual “activism,” not private sexual behavior. Unlike the nations of the West, Putin’s Russia has a government that actually governs, as opposed to serving as a jobs program for various minorities.

However, in today’s world, even a mildly conservative “sovereign democracy” is enough to inspire the fanatical rage of the Washington governing class and its pet media. The American media resorted to outright falsity when portraying the conflict in South Ossetia years ago. More recently, when Russia hosted the Winter Olympics, Western newspapers were filled with taunts and stories portraying the country as a kind of Third World disaster out of Borat. Strangely, the mass riots and collapsing infrastructure of World Cup host Brazil went all but unmentioned.  When Pussy Riot disrupted a mass with an obscenity filled protest, the American Secretary of State posed with them for a picture, and National Review’s John O’Sullivan called them “virtuous” and “religious.” The liberal American media is far more hostile towards Putin’s Russia than they were to the Soviet Union, and conservatives seem excited to fight a politically correct enemy rather than more hapless brown people.

While Putin himself is usually sure footed in his responses, Russia’s larger public relations effort often seems hapless and confused. Russia Today, supposedly designed as a counter to the American media, usually appears like a kind of grab bag of left-libertarian features that wouldn’t seem out of place on Democracy Now. Though there is the occasional conservative guest who would be cut from the American mainstream media, the network keeps inviting guests who are almost guaranteed to be hostile. For example, RT invited on Jamie Kirchick—someone whose entire identity, ideology, and outlook on foreign relations revolves entirely on his predilection for sodomy—who promptly made a precious little spectacle of himself. RT also has a problem with its anchors quitting in order to receive the worshipful applause of the American press.

There is nothing Russia can do that will win over the Western press and the American government short of Putin resigning and Gazprom cutting a reparations check to GLAAD. None of the propaganda targeted at Western liberals seems to be taking. Russia is also being forced into an untenable financial position unless it caves unilaterally on all Ukrainian issues. Putin cannot do this without losing domestic support and risking Russia’s international position.

The alternative is to attack–and for Russia to support the only people inclined to support them, Traditionalists and conservatives. The West will not allow Russia to be a “normal” country while Putin is in power and while it insists on relatively conservative social stances. Therefore, Russia needs to take the cultural war into the heart of the West, where restive populations are already looking for an excuse to revolt against their political class over mass immigration, Islamization, political cor
rectness, and incompetence in foreign and domestic policy.

Let Washington, DC choke on it when Russia starts “Radio Free Amerika” to broadcast every day about how American corporations are helping the government spy on its citizens. Let RT start sending its reporters to the border to get some video of the MS-13 members the American government insists on calling “children.” Let’s see how the Huffington Post reacts to American audiences being introduced to Alexander Dugin. And let’s see what the reception will be if the People’s State of Donetsk makes like the Ukrainian forces and starts accepting foreign volunteers.

The strategic advantage has shifted to the West and stagnation is death for Russia. If the West is going to treat the Third Rome like a rogue state no matter what it does, it might as well act like one.

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White Man’s Game

I’ve been following the World Cup since Pelé went out with a bang in 1970. Over the decades, the rhetoric that quadrennially accompanies the soccer championship has grown ever more strident in its insistence that the reason most Americans find soccer less than galvanizing as a spectator sport is that they . . .  fear diversity!

In reality, soccer, both at the international superstar level and at the park league level in America, Ws whiter than football, basketball, or baseball.

For example, the last World Cup was won by Italy’s all-White team. In America, this would be considered scandalous.

This article was originally published on June 23, 2010, at AlternativeRight.com.


Why Soccer is Segregated

I’ve been following the World Cup since Pelé went out with a bang in 1970. Over the decades, the rhetoric that quadrennially accompanies the soccer championship has grown ever more strident in its insistence that the reason most Americans find soccer less than galvanizing as a spectator sport is that they . . .  fear diversity!

In reality, soccer, both at the international superstar level and at the park league level in America, Ws whiter than football, basketball, or baseball.

For example, the last World Cup was won by Italy’s all-White team. In America, this would be considered scandalous.

Let’s look at ESPN’s list from earlier this year of the “Top 50 players of the World Cup.” The five best players in the world — Lionel Messi of Argentina (who is of Italian descent), Christiano Ronaldo of Portugal (a Tim Tebow-lookalike), Wayne Rooney of England, Kaka of Brazil (who is from an upper middle-class family), and Xavi of Spain—are White.

Out of the top 10, eight are White and two from West Africa. Out of the top 50, the proportions look similar. Judging from their pictures, I would say 10 are Black, one is mostly White but clearly part Black, and the other 39 look more or less White. None of the top 50 are East Asian or South Asian, and I don’t see any that are as Mestizo-looking as, say, Diego Maradona, the star of the 1986 World Cup.

In contrast, only one American-born White guy has been selected to the NBA All Star game in the last half dozen years. Most of the prestige positions in the NFL other than quarterback are dominated by Blacks.

Of the soccer top 50, 24 are White guys from the six sunny powers of Spain (9 of the top 50), Italy, Portugal, Argentina, Brazil, and Uruguay. In other words, almost half of the global soccer superstars are Southern Europeans. As baseball discovered back in the days of Joe DiMaggio, it doesn’t really hurt your sport’s popularity to have stylish Mediterranean guys as stars.

Whiteness is even more predominant in American soccer participation rates. From the late 1960s onward, White middle-class parents started to notice that soccer was a fine sport for their children to play, especially now that football and basketball were coming to be dominated at the highest levels by, well, by . . . uh, you know . . . And at this point countless conversations I’ve had over the years with very nice liberal White soccer parents typically break down into uncomfortable gesticulations as they try to not quite come out and say that soccer in America has been, to a large degree, White Flight in Short Pants.

One way to measure how much soccer is played by white youths is to look at a byproduct: the demographics of place-kickers in American football.

Traditionally, American kickers faced the goalposts squarely and swung their legs straight ahead, but in 1964 Pete Gogolak, a Hungarian refugee soccer player, introduced sidewinder kicking to pro football. Kicking the football off the instep rather than off the toes proved to be a superior technique. Foreign soccer players flooded into the NFL, such as Jan Stenerud, Garo YepremianEfren Herrera, and Donald Igwebuike.

Since Mark Mosely retired in 1986, every NFL field goal specialist has kicked soccer-style. Yet, the imported soccer player kicker has virtually vanished. Although NFL rosters are now only 31 percent White, every single one of the 39 players who attempted a field goal or extra point in the NFL in 2009 was a non-Hispanic White.

There are few famous NFL place-kickers anymore, though, because they’ve all gotten so good—they were successful on 82% of their field goal attempts in 2009 versus 56% in 1969. Now, unless they score in a snowstorm, they are only talked about when they miss.

If the NFL wanted more white heroes to attract fans, the league could narrow the goal posts to decrease percentages so that kicking one would be more exciting. Apparently, however, creating more White stars is not a priority in the business of American spectator sports.

In contrast to White youngsters, African-Americans (with the exceptions of immigrants and preppies) don’t much like soccer at all, as can be deduced from how bad at place-kicking Black high-school football teams tend to be.

Trotsky observed that while you may not be interested in war, war is interested in you. Similarly, African-Americans may not be interested in soccer, but the American soccer establishment sure is interested in them. The U.S. World Cup team is about one-third Black (while it’s only one-ninth Hispanic, even though Latinos outnumber Blacks in America and are vastly more interested in soccer).

That’s how Americans think about sports. The solution to every sporting problem is to Get The Best Athletes. And how do you know who the Best Athletes are? They’re the ones with the most Athleticism. (In case you can’t tell, these are all American Sportstalk euphemisms for “Black.”)

FIFA could change the rules to make soccer more a sport of explosiveness and sprinting ability, like American sports. Americans are used to watching games where athletes rush about in a frenzy for a few seconds, then take a breather. We tend to be annoyed by soccer’s shortage of substitutions and timeouts, which leaves soccer players dogging it around the field to conserve energy.

Over the generations, rule changes in American spectator sports have tended toward more timeouts, more substitutions, and more specialization. For example, college football players used to play both offense and defense, but by 1960, the NCAA allowed specialized offensive and defensive platoons.

Soccer, though, hasn’t gotten with the program. This not only reduces the number of commercials that can be shown during soccer broadcasts to un-American levels, it also subtly penalizes players of West African descent who tend to be better at sprints than at endurance running.

This is clear at the world-class level in men’s track & field. Blacks of West African ancestry monopolize the 100-meter dash, accounting for all but one of the 200 fastest times in history. They’re almost as good at 200 meters, not quite as overpowering at 400 meters, and only modestly competitive at 800 meters. They aren’t world class at any longer lengths, although a Black Brazilian did once run a fast marathon in the 1990s. (Brazilian blacks appear to average more East African ancestry than American and West Indian blacks.)

Whites on the other hand, tend to have more endurance than West Africans. The American urge to fix soccer’s rules to make it more “exciting” is a compulsion, in effect, to make soccer a better game for Blacks. White American sports administrators have so succeeded in making basketball and football more “exciting” than soccer that they’ve largely succeeded in pushing Whites out of the NBA and NFL.

So, FIFA could change the rules to make the game more appealing to American spectators, which would benefit Black athletes. But it doesn’t want to. It thinks soccer is fine the way it is, as a White-dominated sport.

The rest of the world seems to agree.

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STIHIE: The Criminal Heartthrob of the Future

This is the new face of crime in America–and women love it unfortunately.

This is the new face of crime in America–and women love it unfortunately.

If you can tell what race the man in the mughshot, Jeremy Meeks, is, you should win some sort of prize. Or you probably shouldn’t.

His lack of any racial identity is incredibly offputting and his face would’ve fit perfectly in National Geographic’s alien faces of Monoculture special.

He’s got blue eyes, but brownish skin. Some of his facial features are White, some of them seem Black (the teardrop murder tattoo right under his eye shows off his Black side).

While female desire for criminal sociopaths is no new phenomenon, the more troubling fact is that so many White women fell for the looks of a criminal super Mulatto.

Meeks was arrested on felony weapons charges and has admitted his teardrop tattoo was probably received for committing a murder.

Whatever his actual race, he unsurprisingly has a blonde-haired wife.

So this is how it ends indeed.

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White Men Vote Republican Because They’re Suckers

Working-class white men vote Republican because the Democrats have made it clear that they care about representing the interests of everyone but  working-class white men. 

 

Originally published at Jack-Donovan.com

Amanda Marcotte recently wrote that “White men, as a group, vote Republican because they vote their resentments.”

The New York Times article she cited didn’t say or even imply anything about resentment. It did say that straight, working-class white men vote Republican because the Democratic Party has devoted the majority of its resources to appealing to women, gays and the various groups of less-white men who are nostalgically referred to as “minorities.” The Democratic Party has been on the opposite side of issues that working-class white men have cared about for decades, and according to the Times piece, many strategists within the party think it’s a waste of time trying to win them over.

Working-class white men vote Republican because the Democrats have made it clear that they care about representing the interests of everyone but working-class white men.

These guys vote Republican because Republicans actually make an effort to tell them what they want to hear.

Basically, white men vote Republican because they’re suckers.

The likes of Marcotte say that working-class white men are motivated by fear and resentment, but the majority of people who vote Democrat are doing it for nobler reasons.

They’re not. Most of them are voting for their own short-term self-interest.
Sure, there is a small class of progressive white men who make a big show of putting everyone else’s interests first. They demonstrate their moral superiority by standing up — mostly online — for whatever “rights” they believe that women or blacks or illegal immigrants or transsexuals or chickens are somehow entitled to.

Everyone else is just voting for stuff they want.

Women vote Democrat because they understandably want the convenience of being able to kill their unwanted children. They vote Democrat because they want free birth control and they want free healthcare for the kids they decide to keep. Women also vote for Democrats because Democrats offer special programs to help women get education and jobs.

Women have always depended on men for protection, but they’d rather depend on many men than just one or a few, so they are happy to vote for measures to increase “security.” As a group, women don’t like or understand guns, so they vote Democrat because Democrats promise to take guns away from men — usually those working-class white men — and give them to the big group of men in the government.

Men have historically been suspicious of what big groups of men will do when they have all of the weapons.

Blacks vote Democrat because they are smart and racist. They were going to vote for Obama no matter what he did because he was black, and like sensible people they figure it is better to have one of your own in power. Democrats, as a group, are known for caring more about giving free stuff to black people. Blacks are smart, because they know that it is always better to get something for free than to pay for it.

Blacks also know that you don’t need a permit to buy a gun. You just go buy one from that guy down the street and, you know, take care of business. White men are afraid to buy guns without following the rules, so more rules means less white men with guns. This is good for black men, because they like the convenience of being able to wear a hoodie in the rain without getting shot by nervous white men with guns.

Latinos vote Democrat because their families came to America to take advantage of employment opportunities and all of the benefits and protections that America offers to its citizens. They figure more benefits and protections are better than less, and Democrats always offer more benefits and protections.

In places with a lot of Latinos, Democrats say that you shouldn’t have to go through the trouble of becoming a citizen to get those benefits and protections. This is convenient for Latinos who are not citizens, because using a dead person’s social security number can sometimes be inconvenient.

Gay people vote Democrat because Democrats offer gay people stuff they think they want. Aside from marriage and the sadistic thrill of being able to force Christians to make wedding cakes, this includes free healthcare. Free healthcare comes in handy when you’re a man who occasionally has sex with guys he met 30 minutes ago on Grindr, or a lesbian who occasionally gets drunk and has sex with men. (See the first point about women above.)

Transsexuals vote Democrat because they want the government to pay for the very expensive cosmetic surgeries and hormones that are necessary for them to become who they really are. Also, they are confused about which bathroom to use, so they want more special bathrooms for confused people.

(Chickens are not technically allowed to vote yet, but we hear they want to be free range, which sounds libertarian.)

As Gari Day, the white male bus driver featured in the Times article said, “Republicans make you work for your money, and try to let you keep it.”

He probably doesn’t understand how the government can afford to keep giving everyone free stuff forever. He probably does figure that some of that money for the stuff other people want is coming out of his earnings. But he’s not alone in that — I’ve yet to see a successful Democrat turn down a tax break. No one actually wants to pay more taxes.

Aside from voting to keep more of their own money and to keep the guns they bought, a lot of these straight, white, working-class men are not asking for anything. They’re too proud for that.

As old-fashioned voters, they see themselves as part of the government. They’re not just trying to get more stuff from the government and come up with reasons why they deserve it. They’re voting for a society that works the way they think things should work.

And that’s why they’re suckers.

Democratic and Republican politicians, like everyone else, see the government as a way to get what they want. Politicians want power and status. To get elected, they accept money from regular people, from rich men, from businesses, and probably from foreign countries. In return, they promise favors. That’s how the system works.

People who don’t want anything from the government are useless to politicians, because they are difficult to manipulate and impossible to please. The government, like every big bureaucracy, is in the growth business. Making the government smaller isn’t in the short-term interest of any ambitious bureaucrat. Contraction only makes political sense when you’re trying to reduce an opponent’s sphere of influence.

Democrats promise more government, and more free stuff. Republicans promise less free stuff for poor people, and promise to lower taxes in return, but they rarely manage to lower taxes for anyone but rich guys who — let’s be real — were usually born into money and didn’t work any harder than the guys driving buses. Many of the wealthy elite are white guys, true, but they care about as much about the working-class white guys as the Democratic Party leadership.

White men are suckers because they haven’t figured out that the America they believe in is already gone, and that they are the only ones who aren’t asking for whatever they can get while the gettin’s still good. They’ll vote reliably Republican as long as the Republicans keep talking about self-reliance and how things should work, and that will free up Republican politicians to do favors for people who actually want stuff.

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True Grit

The Coen Brothers greatest film is No Country for Old Men.  In 2008, The Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences endorsed it as such.  I would go as far as saying that *No Country* is one of the most important films of recent history. So rare is it that a work of popular art explores the most consequential issues of our time: the spiritual, moral, and demographic crisis facing Americans and Europeans around the world.  Even its title loudly proclaims the central subtext of the film. 

You know, if you’d have told me 20 years ago. I’d see children walking the streets of our Texas towns … with green hair, bones in their noses … I just flat-out wouldn’t have believed you.
—El Paso Sheriff, No Country for Old Men

The Coen Brothers greatest film is No Country for Old Men. In 2008, The Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences endorsed it as such. I would go as far as saying that No Country is one of the most important films of recent history. So rare is it that a work of popular art explores the most consequential issues of our time: the spiritual, moral, and demographic crisis facing Americans and Europeans around the world. Even its title loudly proclaims the central subtext of the film.

Two Jews, ostensibly of the purest priestly stock according to their namesakes, and a Celt, who named himself after an Irish King, have given this treasure to us, and it is impossible to believe that either party acted unwittingly in sounding these powerful and disturbing themes.

Country Bumpkins

As is well known, the Coen brothers are virtuosos of directing performances, and satire is bred in their bones. Humanizing their protagonists is often contrary to their goals. And though the Coens’ satires run from the broad (O Brother, Where Art Thou) to the relatively more nuanced (Fargo, most often their characters are caricatures.

In fact, it’s hard not to discern a deep misanthropy in their depictions. Whereas a director like Scorsese is sympathetic towards his protagonists (no matter however reprehensible they might be), the Coen brothers seem largely to have contempt for the characters they bring to the screen (except for the humor they provide). At best, the Coen Brothers’ characters are “lovingly” patronized and demeaned.

There are some exceptions to this rule, of course, most notably Gabriel Bryne (Tom Reagan), the protagonist of Miller’s Crossing. But here, Reagan is a cipher and his performance relatively forgettable, as if the directors, irritated by an attractive personality not their own, insisted on blandness and a sort of silence.

More typically, their subjects are regionally accented philistines, quite lacking in the sentience of the urban centers of non-flyover states; at best, they are bestowed with a sort of corrupt slyness or, alternatively, an innocence owed to their utter vacuity. Even the ostensibly lovable and folksy Marge Gunderson of Fargo, played by Frances McDormand, is a glorified bumpkin; she’s “wise” only in the most politically correct, earth-motherly sense of that term.[1]

Indeed, if it were not for A Serious Man and Barton Fink—in which neurotic Jewish intellectuals are lambasted—one might be inclined to perceive a certain spirit of “anti-Gentilism” in the Coen Brothers’ work.[2]

Whatever the case, I’m sure we can relate to the Coens’ send-ups of our benighted brothers (even if we think it should be we who criticize them, constructively).

The Native and the Alien

No Country for Old Men, a neo-Western based on a novel by Cormac McCarthy and set in the Texas of 1980, represents a major departure for the brothers.

First, both protagonists, Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) and Sheriff Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones), are patently rural types; yet they are far from venal, buffoonish, or one-dimensional. In fact, they are, in their folksy way, quite charismatic. To be certain, they are flawed, tragically so, but in ways that are instructive and not merely demeaning.[3]

Let us take Moss first. From the onset, he is depicted as a “man’s man”: ruggedly handsome and able to handle a gun. He is far from perfect, of course; at many points, he seems to be a 18-year-old in a 45-year-old’s body; and it is his inability to control his greed that leads to his downfall. Yet Moss is, at his core, “decent.” Indeed, one could say that “decency” is his fatal flaw.

While hunting antelope one day, Moss happens upon the grisly results of a drug-deal gone wrong: bullet-ridden bodies are strewn left and right (including, quite pathetically, that of a dog), and the ground is soaked with blood. Moss discovers a mound of narcotics and a briefcase containing some $2 million in cash. He also comes across a wounded man in a truck, clinging to life.

Moss can’t help himself and takes the bundle of cash. But at great risk, he returns to the crime scene later that night to bring water to the dying man. This is not only a man Moss doesn’t know, but a Mexican drug dealer—a foreigner in race, country, and tongue, who, in all likelihood, has committed crimes even graver than the transport of highly destructive drugs to millions of Moss’ vulnerable countrymen.

This act of kindness, which ends in Moss being shot by some drug dealers seeking to retrieve the treasure, is the first of many studies in contrast between Moss and his non-Anglo opponent—the demonic Anton Chigurh, who is sent after Moss and the money on a bounty.

Here, we should note that the Coen brothers alter the character of Anton Chigurh in important ways in their adaption of McCarthy’s novel, and arguably make this figure both more terrifying and more symbolic. In the novel, Chigurh’s ethnicity is made deliberately opaque: he is described as a dark haired man with eyes “as blue as lapis.” For the role, the Coens cast the then-relatively unknown Javier Bardem, an actor who is masterful in crafting diabolical and inscrutable characters.

The stranger The stranger

The native. The native.

The Coen brothers describe their reasons for casting Bardem quite innocently. In the interest of serving the spirit of McCarthy’s narrative, they found an actor who seems as though he could have been from “outer space.” However, it is impossible to believe that these ethnically conscious and detail-oriented filmmakers were unaware of the racial undercurrents of No Country—a tragic story set against a backdrop of Mexican criminality and drug running. Bardem, a heavily accented and darkly featured Spaniard, amplifies this unspoken racial drama.

The name “Chigurh” is of ambiguous origin and possibly invented by McCarthy. (A quick Internet search reveals a few occurrences worldwide.) With the first name Anton and McCarthy’s description, the reader might believe that he’s Eastern European, or Russian. Supportive of this thesis is the novel’s and film’s first “coin flipping” scene, in which Chigurh, quite oddly, begrudges a small-town store clerk owner for having “married into” his property.

Is Chigurh possessed by a Marxist ressentiment? Is Chigurh not only a “foreigner,” but one bringing with him an “Un-American creed?” Might this character be Jewish? Or is the name “Anton Chigurh” a kind of code or pseudo-anagram for “Anti-Christ?”

Much about Chigurh’s symbolic status is revealed in the brief, clipped conversation he has with the guileless clerk. Chigurh flips a coin and then demands that his adversary “call it”:

Proprietor: I didn’t put nothin’ up.
Chigurh: Yes, you did. You’ve been putting it up your whole life. You just didn’t know it. You know what date is on this coin?
Proprietor: No.
Chigurh: 1958. It’s been traveling 22 years to get here. And now it’s here. And it’s either heads or tails, and you have to say. Call it.
Proprietor: Well, look … I need to know what I stand to win.
Chigurh: Everything.

1958 fell right in the middle of the Civil Rights movement in the South, one year after Little Rock, Arkansas, integrated its school systems and one year after the death of a young Joseph McCarthy, marking the close of “McCarthyism.” It’s difficult to hear that year and not sense that it marked an endpoint of Anglo-White hegemony in America. Does the coin arrive as a form of vengeance for this period of American history? As in: what comes around, goes around? Is this simple clerk, now powerless, being held to account for the sins of his fathers?[4]

The narrative of the film is driven by Chigurh’s hunt for Moss and the money, which Chigurh engages in with a kind of fanaticism and dedication that reveals he’s something more than a mercenary. (As one rival describes him, “He has principles.”) The chase also allows McCarthy and the Coens to paint a study in contrast between the two men.

The first divergence that comes to the fore is Chigurh’s and Moss’s respective resilience, resourcefulness, and ruthlessness. When wounded by gunfire early in the film, Moss is obliged to go to a hospital to have his wounds treated; there he lays in public view, vulnerable, bedridden, and open to discovery by his tormenters. Chigurh, on the other hand, is able to stitch up a more grievous and painful wound himself, secretly, safe from vying criminals and detectives, and with the skill of a surgeon. Throughout the film, the viewer is filled with a sense of gloom and dread: No matter how tough Moss might be, he doesn’t stand a chance in a battle with Chigurh; he is mere prey.[5]

To a degree, Chigurh is a reprisal of the largely mute (and less interesting) Gaear Grimsrud (Peter Stormare) from Fargo (who’s famously feeds Steve Buscemi’s character into a wood chipper). But Chigurh is something much bigger than a Terminator for the literati—he is something as invincible and unstoppable as death himself. Moss had hoped to use the stash to build a new life with his wife Karla Jean—that is, to gain riches scot-free and without consequences—Chigurh comes to exact the price.

The Coens also contrast the ways in which Chigurh and Moss are perceived by Americans, in particular the old and the young. Moss is generally respected by older Whites. On the run from Chigurh, Moss ventures into Mexico to get medical care, afterwards returning to America to protect his wife and, he naively believes, to kill Chigurh. When crossing the border into the States, Moss is dressed only in a hospital gown. The border agent, a formidable gatekeeper, is hostile to this seemingly demented man, but then softens and allows him passage when he learns that Moss is a Vietnam veteran. “Wilson,” he calls to his assistant, “Get someone to help this man; he needs to get into town.”

Chigurh, on the other hand, is regarded with fear by older White Americans, who are confused and cowed by his cryptic and rude assertiveness. This is evident in the first “coin-flipping” scene, discussed above, and is perhaps best exemplified by Sheriff Bell, who is quietly terrified.

In the film’s Second Act, Moss arranges to meet his wife in a motel in El Paso, where he hopes to give the money over to her and send her out of harm’s way. But Chigurh catches up to Moss before his wife arrives… Cryptically, this final confrontation occurs off camera. All the viewer sees is Sheriff Bell driving up to the motel, as a Mexican drug gang flees the scene in a pickup truck. The viewer is left to imagine what exactly happened in this violent standoff between Moss, Chigurh, and the gang. All is known is that Moss lies dead in his room.

After this denouement, Sheriff Bell decides (much like Moss at the beginning of the film) to return to the scene of the crime. He walks slowly, deliberately, towards Moss’s motel room… and the viewer sees that Chigurh is crouched, patiently waiting, ready to make Sheriff Bell his next victim. But when Bell opens the door, Chigurh has vanished, and all that remains in the room is Bell’s shadow against the wall. What has just happened? Did Chigurh, inexplicably, decide to spare Bell and slip out of the room? Or was this actually one of Bell’s dreams, or nightmares, in which he glimpses something that he is not quite willing to confront?

Whatever the case, shortly after Moss’s death, Bell opts for retirement rather than taking his chances against such a fearsome opponent. Bell is, in his words, “overmatched.”

The younger generation of Americans reacts quite differently to both Moss and Chigurh. After Moss is wounded by Chigurh, and is staggering across the Mexican border in seek of a hospital, he crosses the path of a group of twenty-somethings, who are, apparently, returning from Mexico where they were bar-hopping. Moss asks one of the kids if he could purchase his coat; the young men are repelled and distrustful, insistent on seeing the money before they proffer the coat, even though Moss is obviously wounded and in need: “OK, give me the money,” the twenty-somethings insist. “It’s right here. Give me the clothes.” “Let him hold the money,” the young man insists. After the exchange is made, Moss asks for the beer that one of them is holding. “How much?” is the insolent reply.

This pathetic scene is contrasted, quite deliberately, with a parallel scene at the end of the film. Chigurh has just tracked down Moss’s wife, Carla Jean, who is living at the house of her recently deceased mother. There, Chigurh engages in another round of existential coin-flipping with a terrified and helpless woman:

Carla Jean Moss: You don’t have to do this.
Anton Chigurh: People always say the same thing.
Carla Jean Moss: What do they say?
Anton Chigurh: They say, “You don’t have to do this.”

The fates again are not kind.

After leaving the house and driving off, Chigurh’s car is struck by another when he runs a red light (perhaps killing the other driver). Having pulled himself from the totaled car, Chigurh rests on the roadside with a gruesome compound fracture in his arm. The crash has attracts the attention of concerned Anglo-American teenagers. Like Moss, Chigurh needs to dress his terrible wound.

Anton Chigurh: What will you take for the shirt?”
Boy: Well hell Mister I’ll give you my shirt.

The boy then helps Chirguh tie a sling for his arm. Chirguh extends to him a $100.

Teenager: Well hell mister, I don’t mind helping someone out.
Chigurh: Take it. Take it. You didn’t see me. I was already gone.

The earnest boy nods indicating that he will do as instructed.

The contrast between the two rivals is drawn sharply. Chigurh is the stronger, more ruthless man, seemingly devoid of any hint of empathy or remorse. Yet he is pitied and pampered by xenophiles, who will literally give him the shirts off their backs (and who are not above taking a bribe to cover for him). Moss, on the other hand, is a vet, self-sacrificing and with a sense of duty toward his fellow human beings. Yet he is distrusted and disrespected by the youth of his own country. Chigurh survives. Moss dies.

Sailing to Byzantium

The death of Llewelyn Moss could be chalked up as another good man brought low by greed, or as a victim (though not an altogether innocent one) of the drug craze. But for Sheriff Bell, Moss’s death begins to take on the significance of the end of era, the end of his people and folkways. Bell touches on this feeling when he shares a coffee with the local sheriff of El Paso (Roscoe Boyce):

Roscoe Boyce: If you’d a told me twenty years ago I’d see children walkin’ the streets of our Texas towns with green hair and bones in their noses … I just flat out wouldn’t of believed you.
Ed Tom Bell: Signs and wonders. But I think once you stop hearin’ sir and madam, the rest is soon to foller.
Roscoe Boyce: It’s the tide. It’s the dismal tide. It is not the one thing.

It’s a remarkable scene that may be without precedent (outside some of Disney’s Fables, W.D. Griffith’s Birth of a Nation, or Gone with the Wind.) When was the last time a Hollywood character complained about the degeneracy of America (or the South) and was not depicted as a crackpot, crank, fascist, or religious nut?[6]

One truly tragic aspect of No Country is that Bell laments the decline of his people and civilization, yet is himself an expression of it—a fact of which he seems dimly aware. From the beginning of the film, Sheriff Bell is terrorized by the rise of what he describes as a new breed of criminal, one that is a product of the times: brutal, psychotic, and remorseless. But he does not rise up to confront and defeat this evil; he does not, like Ethan in John Ford’s The Searchers, hunt down bad men, no matter the cost. Instead, he submissively retires, and fails to try to bring Chigurh to justice.

It is not just the green hair, the breakdown of community cohesion, the loss of a healthy distrust of the stranger—it is also cowardice and forfeit that signal the end for America. At least Old America.

Harder to discern are the Coen Brothers’ feeling regarding the Decline that they poignantly explored in their film. For instance, is it not possible to detect a certain sublimated joy in the destruction of the dumb, fatted cattle of rural White America? Early in the film, Chigurh actually kills his prey with a captive bolt pistol, an instrument used to stun livestock for slaughter. Is it not possible to detect a joy in nature running its course, as a man might gain some sublimated satisfaction in seeing a powerful lion take down an impala, knowing, on some level, that this is how, long ago, his own species survived—by being strong and merciless?

In the minds of the Coen brothers, is No Country for Old Men something like Django Unchained or Machete for epicures, revenge porn for people who prefer a Pinot Gris to a Budweiser (or a joint)? Perhaps this is true to an extent. But there does seem to be, however improbably, a strong undercurrent of pity—even longing—for White America.

Perhaps we should ask how McCarthy views his Anglo subjects? After all, despite the clever affects brought to the film by the Coen brothers, McCarthy is the true and final weaver of this tale. Is the countrified dialect of his characters a sign of McCarthy’s affection for his subject, or of mockery or merely verisimilitude? One should consider his background in this matter—a southerner from childhood (though one with Catholic, Yankee parents). McCarthy’s political views are unknown, though he has offered up this gem: “I think the notion that the species can be improved in some way, that everyone could live in harmony, is a really dangerous idea.” If by “improve” he means “improved to live in harmony,” as it seems he does in this passage, I imagine the RadixJournal readership finds little to disagree with.

But certainly one would have to weigh No Country against his earlier works, most saliently the novel that is widely consider his masterpiece, The Blood Meridian published in 1985. Here, the main part of the story is a depiction of a band of western outlaws hired by regional leaders to fight the Apache. They end up indiscriminately and brutally massacring Indians and Mexicans, even the peaceful ones. While it is certainly a layered and complex novel, Steven Shaviro’s gushing review characterizes the way that the novel has been received.

Both [Moby Dick and The Blood Meridian] savagely explode the American dream of manifest destiny (sic) of racial domination and endless imperial expansion.

We might consider two possibilities. First, men change, as, indeed, does the world around them. Conscientious men are especially mutable, as they might have a varying sense of who is gaining and losing power. The idealism of younger man is replaced by the experience of life. Did Cormac change? And has he revealed this, esoterically, to his audience?

The second, related possibility is that perhaps McCarthy— simply being a universalistic moralist, and with no particular sense of allegiance—has moved on to describe the destruction of another people, facing a similar fate as the American Indians. It is interesting to note that one of the few meaningful physical descriptions he includes in No Country For Old Men is of the Indian carvings that Moss encounters out in the desert.

The rocks there were etched with Pictographs perhaps a thousand years old. The men who drew them, hunters like himself. Of them, there was no other trace.

All these things considered, I believe that perhaps the final scene of this film, rendered faithfully from the book, may contain the answer. Here, Bell, now retired, describes a pair of dreams he’s had the evening before. The script is worth revisiting in its entirety:

All right, then. Two of ’em, both had my father in ’em. It’s peculiar. I’m older now than he ever was by 20 years. So, in a sense, he’s the younger man. Anyway, the first one I don’t remember too well … but it was about meeting him in town … somewheres, and he give me some money. I think I lost it.

Second one, it was like we was both back in older times. And I was a-horseback, going through the mountains of a night. Going through this pass in the mountains. It was cold, and there was snow on the ground. And he rode past me and kept on going … never said nothing going by, just rode on past. He had his blanket wrapped around him and his head down. When he rode past, I seen he was carrying fire in a horn … the way people used to do, and I … I could see the horn from the light inside of it … ‘bout the color of the moon. And, in the dream, I knew that he was … going on ahead. He was fixin’ to make a fire somewhere out there in all that dark and cold. And I knew that whenever I got there, he’d be there. And then I woke up.

These dreams are best understood through an examination of their symbols.

What is the meaning of his father as a younger man? This, in my view, is emblematic of the healthier and vigorous generation that has passed. Bell’s generation—passive, permissive, and tolerant—is exhausted and senile. Thus, it is natural that he sees himself as an old, dying man, relative to his father who was of a younger, more robust, and healthier generation). In this context the meaning of the money is simple: Bell dreams of losing something bestowed to him, which expresses the anxiety of the prodigal son—or generation—who squanders the inheritance of his father.

In the second dream, I believe Bell is not merely encountering an ancestor but also a descendant, if not quite his own son. The young man is his prophetic dream is a “young man” of the future. What is the meaning of the moon-colored fire in the horn? There is a holy fire mentioned in the Yeats “Sailing to Byzantium,” the poem from which McCarthy’s book takes its name. (The first line goes: “That is no country for old men.”) Here, the Holy Fire represents a spiritual or magical force commanded by the “Sages” of Byzantium, a city that is the historical seat of Orthodox Christianity, the gate to the West, and the capital of the most abiding remnant of the Roman Empire.

The central anxiety of the poem is one of mortality and of Yeats’s concern that his art and impression in the world will not abide. Hence, he seeks Byzantium to gain the magic of its immortality. Here, in Bell’s dream, the moon-colored fire, I believe, can be taken to mean something similar. The father, who is emblematic of a descendent, goes ahead to rekindle the fire anew amid the cold and darkness. The civilization of Bell’s blood will come again. Hence, McCarthy does what his Irish kinsman Yeats desired in his poem:

Or set upon a golden bough to sing,
To Lords and Ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come

Therefore, the book and film are hopeful, if only wistfully so. Civilization will be rekindled amid the “darkness,” and the blood of Bell will survive by it. Arguably, one could say this dream is merely a vision of Bell’s personal afterlife; however, this seems unlikely given the attention paid to so specific a symbolism, as well as given Bell’s professed lack of faith in God, and given the broader themes of moral and cultural decline.

Let us consider the Coen Brothers intent with this ending. Are they also hopeful that such a civilization, rekindled by the blood of Bell, will be reborn?

Perhaps the relative ambiguity and esotericism of the scene is its guardian, and its true meaning, to the extent my deciphering is correct, is lost on the Coen Brothers? Yet I tend to give them more credit than this (especially since A Serious Man, with its suggestion of decline, seems inspired by themes in No Country for Old Men, only adapted to a Minnesotan Jewish community).

Certainly, there must be an instinct among sub-creators, like the Coen brothers, to attach themselves to art of great value and permanence, and to serve that art to the best of their ability, as its glow will invariably reflect on them. And one should remember the last line of Bell’s description: “And then I woke up.” Does this suggest that the prophetic dream is merely a fond illusion? The Coen Brothers, it seems, also have an alibi… Indeed, one could reasonably interpret the scene as a compassionate and sympathetic paean to a dangerous but dying beast, in much the way a New York Times columnist might laud the WASP Establishment for having the “goodness” and “virtue” to eventually relinquish its grasp on power. (One can have sympathy for a dangerous beast only when one is certain the beast is dying.) Or perhaps (who knows?) the Coen brothers are secretly onboard with us. After all, without a strong race and civilization, there would be no employment for its sarcastic critics!

In the category of “dark, unpleasant, and truthful,” No Country For Old Men may be the best film ever made. And by truthful, I also mean life-affirming. Hence, the Coen Brothers, as if interpreting the mysteries of a higher being, honor their priestly names.

Finally, if the famously evasive Cormac McCarthy ever denies this meaning I have put forth, be slow to believe him. The Irish are master liars (their kings, no less so). Perhaps Comac’s willingness to deceive is the only reason No Country became a film in the first place. So if you see him, be sure to thank him.[7]


  1. Outside of her traditionally male profession, and her success in uncovering the crime central to the film, Marge Gunderson’s relative sophistication and wisdom is indicated most saliently in her participation in a non-traditional relationship with her painter husband, where, it seems, she is the breadwinner. Hence, she becomes a sort of feminist hero set amid a landscape of venal, bumbling, and/or unsophisticated men.  ↩
  2. Using this logic, one is inclined to believe that the Coens’ ability for satire was probably encouraged by their early experiences growing up in Minnesota, just outside Minneapolis. Here, in a Midwestern and relatively less Judaized milieu, where many of the similarities and gradations that exist between Gentile and Jew in other urban areas are absent, Gentiles likely seem quite exotic to Jews (not to mention threatening)—and hence worthy of study. Perhaps the Coens’ childhood felt something like a wildlife safari? Certainly such a weaning would also heighten a self-awareness, present notably in A Serious Man. While Woody Allen describes a strongly Jewish milieu in most of his films, it is with greater affection and much less mockery. One should also consider that Minnesotan Jews are effectively “Jewish hicks” and can be lampooned for their lack of sophistication relative to say, New York Jews.  ↩
  3. Certainly, both characters also benefit from the Cowboy mythos, which 1950s Hollywood played a hand in bolstering, and for which Coen brothers clearly have a soft spot, as evinced by their other Western, True Grit (2010). Perhaps one day a Siegfried will be drawn from these Western Sagas (though certainly not by the hand of satirists like the Coen Brothers).  ↩
  4. The biblical demon Mammon is discussed toward the end of the novel in a scene where Bell and a Lawyer are both familiar with the name, through its reference in scripture, but have no sense of its meaning (doubtlessly indicating their distance from religion).  The coin, being a monetary unit, may be, in some ways, a reference to Mammon, who is the personification of wealth as an evil influence (as might also, more obviously, the satchel of money, which functions in this tragedy very much as the Nibelung Ring or the Cursed Golden Fleece).  ↩
  5. So invincible is Chigurh, early in the film he is picked up and hand cuffed by local police, suspicious of the captive bolt pistol he carries. Chigurh manages not merely to escape but also to kill his captor. (In the book, it is revealed that Chigurh allowed himself to be captured because he was intrigued by the potential challenge it proffered.) Chigurh evades and kills vying criminal and lawman alike, with cunning and impunity.  ↩
  6. Though perhaps the Coens were looking at Sheriff Bell and his companion somewhat askance. There seems to be a subtle “Church Lady” caricature occurring, a gentle mocking of two powerless, provincial men engaging in thoughts too big for their minds. Tommy Lee Jones—though perhaps I am imagining this—seems to struggle to keep a straight face when he says “the rest is soon to foller.” And what are Hollywood liberals to think of such lines? Can they really embody them? And are not these revelations unavoidably pathetic, coming from such impotent and outmoded men?  ↩
  7. There is an old Iranian saying: “It takes two Jews to cheat a Greek, two Greeks to cheat an Armenian, and two Armenians to cheat a Persian.” Perhaps this will have to be revised to include Irishmen somewhere along the hierarchy.  ↩

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Immigration Respectability

This year’s CPAC offered few opportunities for anyone in our movement to get a word in about the issues we care about. The “minority outreach” panel—which included a bold agenda for winning Detroit!—was sparsely attended and didn’t include a Q&A.  I was, however, able to ask a question at Thursday afternoon’s panel on immigration—“Can There be Meaningful Immigration Reform Without Citizenship?”  

This year’s CPAC offered few opportunities for anyone in our movement to get a word in about the issues we care about. The “minority outreach” panel—which included a bold agenda for winning Detroit!—was sparsely attended and didn’t include a Q&A. I was, however, able to ask a question at Thursday afternoon’s panel on immigration—“Can There be Meaningful Immigration Reform Without Citizenship?”

This event featured four speakers. The first, Helen Kriebel, advocated for a market-based guest-worker program with minimal government involvement. Businesses would determine who entered the country based on their needs; and workers would gain admittance on a strictly temporary basis, with no promise of citizenship. In others words, Kriebel seeks the creation of a Helot class.[1].

Derrick Morgan of The Heritage Foundation came next. He argued against amnesty in the safest, most boring manner possible. He also stated that no immigration reform of any kind should be enacted at this time because “we can’t trust Obama.”

There final two panelists were Hispanics: Alfonso Aguilar, a former immigration minister from the George W. Bush administration, and the Reverend Luis Cortés, Jr.

I waited patiently … and when Q&A finally came, I sprung into action. Some dissidents like to highjack the mic and turn a Q&A into a lecture—which almost always eventuates in the questioner annoying the audience, getting silenced and then ignored. I wanted to ask a question that would actually get answered. (You can jump directly to my question here . . . in fact, don’t watch the entire panel unless you’re suffering from insomnia.)

I have a moral question, actually, and I think that’s very important. I was struck by Helen Kriegel’s statement that “we don’t want an immigration policy that’s Republican; we want one that’s truly American. Actually, there are a lot of precedents we can look to for those policies. One of them would be the 1924 immigration act, which restricted immigration to Northern Europeans. You could actually go back a lot further and look at the 1790 Naturalization Act, which restricted immigration to “free white persons of good character.”

The motive for all these acts was that Americans really understood their nation as an extended family, and they wanted to choose people they had something in common with; they wanted to value their own over others.

Do you find that immoral? Do you find this American tradition of valuing our own people, European Christians, over others to be immoral, when it seems to be so much a part of America?

Before I the panel started, I was told by a friend, who works in the Beltway, that Derrick Morgan was “really solid.” My impression is that too many people in our movement, starved as we are for allies, think that someone who makes an argument against amnesty—even one that rejects European identity—must secretly be “one of us.” Perhaps Morgan does oppose amnesty because he, secretly, doesn’t want to experience the displacement of his people? I can’t say. It is noteworthy, though, that after I asked my question, Morgan asserted that American Whites do not have a moral right to create an immigration policy based on identity; indeed, such things are “shameful.” In the end, whatever reasonable things he might say, I can only conclude that Morgan is as much a part of the problem as his ostensible opponents.


  1. It would be interesting to ask Kriegel whether the businesses that engaged these guest worker would not just benefit from cheap labor but would be made to pay damages if, say, one of their recruits committed a crime in the U.S. or overstayed his work visa.  ↩
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Mass Immigration and Public Education

Americans presume that illegal immigration is always grounded in an attempt to meet enormous material challenges. But what if it turns out that parents pay coyotes to be rid of troublesome children in a guilt free fashion?

While it’s long been the case that the majority of immigrant kids in our city do not live with both parents, it is increasingly prevalent to find such kids living without any parents around at all; teenagers are foisted off on distant relatives, friends, or acquaintances: it seems some Mexican and Central American parents have taken to immigration to solve their parenting deficiencies. They pay enormous amounts to have their child smuggled north, while staying home themselves, smug in the knowledge that they’ve done the very best thing they could do for the kid. After all who can argue against the good will of a parent who makes this kind of financial and emotional sacrifice? Aren’t North American salaries much higher, and unemployment much lower? Is it not the case that even illegal aliens are entitled to free public schooling in El Norte, even college?

Americans presume that illegal immigration is always grounded in an attempt to meet enormous material challenges. But what if it turns out that parents pay coyotes to be rid of troublesome children in a guilt free fashion? And there are many such troubled children, of course; poverty, the lack of a social net, and the explosion of violence in Central America and Northern Mexico have seen to that. These immigrant flows are the blowback from exportation not just of our own drug and gang cultures, but of globalization; free enterprise has undercut traditional family values in unprecedented ways. Outsourcing has added vitality to a maquilera economy that sunders families; aping the license of American media culture, local television, film, and music producers promote transgressive excitements which entail the abandonment of Christian morals; divorce is rampant, while even in intact households, permissiveness undermines traditional methods of child nurture—the inability to discipline children effectively, a marker of western social progress almost everywhere, is epidemic. Kids are sucked up into gang life, drug abuse and violence, and parents having lost control over them, turn in desperation to the traditional outlet of relief, immigration. Guatemala, Mexico, and El Salvador are in the throes of a societal breakdown. How much of the blame should we take upon ourselves for the destruction of these societies? Shall we, by absorbing these “feral” children through belated guilt, allow our own systems to collapse? Do the rights of undocumented children include a right to parents? Shouldn’t neglect be part of the equation here? Offering these children de facto sanctuary in our schools may not be in their interests. By accepting the ambitions of their parents on face value, we may be dooming the very kids we hope to save to a cycle of crime, imprisonment, illiteracy, and brutal poverty. Students are being essentially abandoned: by parents, who are glad to be rid of them, by a system of jurisprudence which is not equipped to make distinctions, by cops so overwhelmed en masse by gang culture that they gladly lash out at those so clueless as to become easy targets, and by teachers, who are asked to take responsibility for a child that has lived without adult supervision or care for most of his life, and asked to do so at the peril of destroying any semblance of class management. If their parents abroad don’t care, if they scoff at their parental obligations as they scoff at immigration laws, why does it become the State’s responsibility to raise their offspring? Which moral duty has precedence…the duty to provide children with decent, orderly schools, or the duty to take in an unwanted brood whose feral impulses have reaped havoc on school discipline?

So, given these facts, I suppose it had to happen one day. As a high school teacher of English as a Second Language, I’ve grown quite accustomed to finding students in my “advanced” classes who’ve been in American classrooms since second and third grade, but this is a first: this week Miguel enrolled in my ESL1a class, the very beginning level. This seventeen year old was born in the United States and has attended school every year here, apart from some time off in jail. A pleasant fellow whose smile lights up the class, Miguel rings the changes of English vulgarity with great proficiency, but cannot write a sentence, in either Spanish or English. Many such children find themselves trapped in a feral abyss between two underfed idioms. But how? Bilingual illiteracy takes some doing. Should we blame Miguel, who in seventeen years hasn’t found English important enough to master, it appearing a paltry thing to be able to read, for instance, the terms of his probation? No. He, like so many of his immigrant peers, has never known real schooling. Periods of no schooling were interrupted by graceless passages through dysfunctional schools, where, over the klangefarbe of Spanish chit-chat, it was impossible to hear English modelled. For Miguel school has been a restless moil, the futility of which was broken only by the brisk business of selling drugs at lunch.

It cannot be supposed that his Salvadoran parents could ever have offered a reliable memory of what it means to get educated, a functional educational routine. They more than likely dropped out in grade school, or never attended at all. For generation after generation, the process of intellectual accumulation has not merely been stifled, but forcibly excised from the culture; now on both sides of La Frontera, what it means to be a student has been largely forgotten.

The kind of people we are does not, then, really depend on us, but on the communities that sustain us. Lacking this constraint, students become a kind of void that attracts blind contingency. The kind of people we see in our classroom—are bedeviled or enchanted by—likewise is contingent, the result of circumstantial luck or chaos, and our intuition about this, that they are to be held morally accountable neither for the failings of history, nor for intentions good or ill, nor for the missteps of time, seems naturally convincing and generous, but it too is a luxury we can no longer afford. Quantitative change becomes, alas, qualitative. Nothing can be more demoralizing than to see how this plays out, in my classroom as Miguel stumbles into class thirty minutes late, in a cloud of marijuana, his eyes pinpoints of inexpressible delight.

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Mo’ Snow Days, Mo’ Problems

This was Tuesday, the 28th of January, 2014. As I marveled at the novelty of witnessing a teenager taking in her first snow, the city of Atlanta crept into the first stages of a quickly escalating, snow-induced cardiac arrest. A mere two hours later, Atlanta came to a complete and utter halt frozen in time like some poor, naïve animal suspended in mid-gait amidst an overwhelming and instant freeze. The whole city, stretching nearly a hundred miles from north to south and east to west, lapsed into a Code Blue in front of our collective eyes and died without nary a person, organization, or government to fix the situation.

How Public Education Woes Shut Down the City of Atlanta

In a non-descript public high school building somewhere in Atlanta, I stared outside between two rectangular slits as snow gracefully fell beyond the meager windows. With noon approaching, the African American students, whom I service, continued to grow more and more antsy every minute they found themselves stuck inside the drab, off-white, cement block rooms, except for one young lady from Ghana who had never seen snow before. I watched her and mirrored her grin in my own as she smiled ear to ear admiring the rare precipitation with delight. No word from county whether dismissal would come early today. As parents slowly trickled to the school alleviating teachers of wound-up students one-by-one, I had long since given up on instruction for the day, Hamlet Act II, Scene i and Julius Caesar Act I, Scene ii as the docket demanded.

This was Tuesday, the 28th of January, 2014. As I marveled at the novelty of witnessing a teenager taking in her first snow, the city of Atlanta crept into the first stages of a quickly escalating, snow-induced cardiac arrest. A mere two hours later, Atlanta came to a complete and utter halt frozen in time like some poor, naïve animal suspended in mid-gait amidst an overwhelming and instant freeze. The whole city, stretching nearly a hundred miles from north to south and east to west, lapsed into a Code Blue in front of our collective eyes and died without nary a person, organization, or government to fix the situation. Mother Nature balked at the helpless humans who had tempted the fates of weather and once again lost. For outsiders and denizens of oft cold and snowy regions of the globe, this predicament seems outrageous beyond comprehension, a city grinding to a halt over two to three inches of snow; however, outside of mere governmental oversight and incompetency that plagues multicultural cities, a far greater dilemma set the precedent for the early afternoon shutdown: our terrible education woes, in particular, our EOCT (End of Course Test) scores.

Many articles have been published the last few days that accurately describe both the chaos and the preceding narrative that allowed this mess to occur. One of the more popular articles floating around Facebook the last few days was this article How Hothlanta Happened (Again) which describes in eight reasons how this disaster happened (again) referring to Atlanta Snowpocalypse of 2011. Reason #4 of 8, which explains how two-to-three inches of snow brought the city to a grinding halt, states,

And then something happened, and nothing happened in response. No one freaked out when winter storm advisories were announced. No cancellations were made, and the city and GDOT had nothing ready, and no capacity to catch up once they were behind. The city and state play a game of chicken with winter weather. The usual tactic is to call everything off, cancel everything early, and risk ridicule for the sake of not having people trapped on the roads for ten hours. This is usually done with the luxury of a night to prepare.

One facet of this quagmire is, as the latter selection points out, Georgia Department of Transportation’s complete lack of preparedness for this type of winter weather. The other side of this quagmire is why no cancellations were made in regards to public facilities, especially the schools. For the adults of the city, corporations and businesses had the final say on shutting down; however, governmental facilities, which education is merely a branch, are decided by the counties themselves. Herein lies the reason why the one o’clock gridlock happened. The schools were reluctant to shut down, and when they collectively decided to do so, the timing, along with the weather, effectively crippled the city.

Apparently, businesses and corporations were waiting to see whether the schools would shut down early or make it to the usual end of the day. When the metro schools did begin to close, corporations and businesses knew there was going to be a mass exodus of parents in relation to this early dismal, and timed their own closings with that of the schools. Most of the school systems in metropolitan Atlanta did not call off school on this fateful day, and early dismal announcements did not begin until around noon to 1pm. As a result, approximately three million people left work for the day and the schools began early dismal at the same time. So imagine 6pm rush hour moved earlier to 1pm, add snow and ice to the mix, and, lastly, consider school dismissal which entails thousands of busses ferrying students all across the county, etc. The result has made Atlanta the laughing stock of the nation at present. The following is a picture chronicling the time, the traffic gridlock, and the total shut down of the city on Google Maps.

Here is where most mainstream news sources will cease their journalistic endeavors. Why were the various metropolitan boards of education so reluctant to cancel school for January 28th the day before and thereby saving themselves the hassle? The answer is test scores, specifically the EOCT (End of Course Test) scores. According to the 2012-2014 Georgia Assessment Calendar on the Georgia Department of Education website, the Spring EOCT administration begins April 28 and continues to June 6, 2014. For teachers, these EOCT scores can make or break you. Most teachers spend the entirety of the year teaching in preparation for their respective tests eschewing whole parts of the curriculum and certain Common Core standards that are historically less manifest on the EOCT. There is so much scrutiny for teachers to close the racial gap between blacks and Hispanics at the bottom and Asians and whites at the top that the whole system now revolves around these scores. These scores have become so important that many school systems in Georgia (and around the country) are beginning to tinker with, and hopefully fully integrate in the future, Merit-Based-Pay to encourage older teachers to retire and encourage younger teachers to really “go the extra mile.” The new salary system would effectively determine your income based upon your test scores and percentage gains.

The following image is a composite of EOCT test score results from Winter of 2007 to Winter of 2012 arranged by racial demographic. The scores account for Winter EOCT retakes (i.e. W07) and Spring EOCT first takes (i.e. S08). This data comes from the Georgia Department of Education website and is entitled TESTING BRIEF: Georgia End of Course Test (EOCT) Winter Administration, November 26, 2012 – January, 4th, 2013. The numbers for each seasonal administration represent the percentage of students who “Meets” or “Exceeds” the standard. This basically means the percentage of students who passed the test for each respective course.

The EOCT scores for each subject illuminate the gap that the nation wants to pretend does not exist. This gap is the proverbial elephant in the room for educational systems across the country.

Therefore, metropolitan boards of education need students in seats every-single-day to receive that precious instructional time in the lead-up to the EOCT testing days at the end of Spring semester. After the cheating scandals and the failure of other artificial means to boost test scores, the attention of the nation and the federal government at large continues to scrutinize, analyze, and audit every move sub-standard, low achieving districts make. This is why Atlanta Public Schools, Clayton County, DeKalb County, Fulton County, and Gwinnett County schools, among others, did not cancel school the day before. That is, these school systems could not afford to lose the one day of instruction their students desperately need to increase the EOCT scores, and, thus, close the racial gap. As a result, all waited until the transportation and weather quandary was beyond them and absolute chaos ensued.

The weather fiasco is effectively kicking the schools systems of Atlanta while they are already down. Being on the inside of the public education system, I can vouch for the terror and animosity teachers have for EOCT’s. Not only is the scrutiny of the federal government at play concerning these test scores, but also massive amounts of funding for schools, as well. Percentages gained by the current administration, whether on the respective boards of education or of the schools themselves, serve to enhance the prestige of those in charge as well as increase credibility for determining funds for the near future. Therefore, when scores, funding, and careers are all at stake, superintendents, boards of education, and administrators will continue to tempt the fates in these kinds of scenarios.

As adversity reigned upon the city that day, white folks the city over did what white folks often do in times of need: help one another until the crisis is resolved. I will now refer you to the following articles: The Silver Lining Of Atlanta’s Snowpocalypse 2014, Storm victims find snow angels on social media, or this Facebook page. Obviously, whites weren’t the only ones helping others on this day, but, funny enough, you can’t find any pictures of diversity lending a helping hand.

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