Don’t you just feel it?
There’s something about Whitey...with his whiteness.
Standing there, all white, making sure he gets what he wants, in his white way.
It’s beautiful. It’s sexy. Everyone wants to be white.
Everyone.
It’s odd.
Whitey is king. Powerful. Has the key to the silo.
Whitey demands service.
Whitey insists. Whitey plans. Whitey achieves.
How does Whitey do it?
By exploiting, in a very organized manner, every resource on the earth?
By organizing markets so the poorest brown people eat enough and are well enough to work in Whitey’s world...but not much more.
Is Whitey just smarter? Does Whitey have a history of better government and philosophy? Does Whitey deserve the very best? And why does Whitey always get it?
What is the secret to Whitey? Other than a lightening of the skin to allow greater production of Vitamin D in cloudy, northern climes---
Whitey. You did it all. And everyone wants a piece.
You alabaster Gods. You busy busy albino beavers.
Take me out to the ballgame.
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