As January begins to come to an end, one would think the next month would bring equal splendor, but alas, in these days, the next month, traditionally the month of love, has turned into a month of blackness. Next month is Black History Month, as we all know, but I would like to give a few words of my own, as I was once a high-school student, and was force-fed this madness.
The first day begins as any other. You wake up in the morning, expecting the day to be mundane, or have at least some excitement. What will this day bring? The tension is enough to make your heart race. At least, that was when February, the second month of the year, associated with the colours pink, white and red, is now an ugly mix of brown and black. Now it is a month dedicated to a false history given to a pitiful excuse for a race that has been with us for far too long.
It is Black History Month, where quotes of famous Niggers are told in haughty, proud voices, as if they are as equal as all the others. When I was in school, every school day, after the announcements and the anthem, a student, a nigger himself, spoke into the microphone, telling us a quote from a person I had no idea existed, and to which whose achievements were nigh compared to the lifelong achievements of the fabulous Europe. I never understood why they were able to have a month, and we weren't allowed to have a month. I asked myself this, and got no answer. My peers, drunk on this multiculturalism; who didn't give a damn about my country; who didn't even care for their own race, dared not ask this question themselves.
Now, as this month comes again, I am filled with new knowledge, and with great shame; not this shame of "white guilt", but the shame that my race has bowed to these monsters, giving them everything, to which they could care less for. In our history textbooks, alongside the endless woes of feminist rhetoric, was the ever-so present plight of the nigger. Page after page was of their alleged suffering. In a great act of double-speak, the textbook went on and on about the Europeans great achievements, while simultaneously stating that we had taken those gifts from others. When I flipped through the pages, I noticed more and more that this had nothing to do with "The West and the World". Nay, it had much to do with victimhood and white shaming.
Europeans have given so much to the world, and to that I say: we don't need a month. We need a year! That is the summary of our achievements. But why February? Why is that given to the nigger? What have they done to society?
Answer: nothing but destruction. In the school they would have it known that the nigger has done as many great things as the Europeans, but this is entirely a farce; they made it so so that the nigger would feel GOOD about something, as if emotion somehow held greater sway than truth.
A long time ago I once read an article about the "Blue Baby Syndrome", and how a nigger saved the day. The nigger was studying to be a doctor, and wasn't allowed to be a surgeon because of what he was. At that time, I was a young child and was baffled at why the medical community wouldn't let him in. Now, when I think about it, the article cited no sources. It was entirely made up. In the real world, there is no such thing as a magic nigger; they only exist in definition. But that definition alone is enough to please the mob.
Yet it does not please me, a descendant of these great European empires. It does not please me to hear that I am descended from these beasts, or how that I am equal to them. Even looking and feeling the texture of my own skin it is enough to convince me that I am not the same. I may share a common ancestor, a bipedal creature of unknown origin, but I am not related to those beasts. My genes are purely European, and I do not have a drop of Negroid blood in me, despite their beloved theories about us all coming from Africa.
We may indeed have come from paradise, but we might have also been the ones to have been separated from it. But this tragedy was our gift; we are the older bunch - Sinos and Eurasians - and we evolved separately. This was our gift. We are the humans, and they are not.
If this fact was to become well-known in the Western world, as it is in the East, there would be endless controversy. Scientific misconduct may keep the truth a secret for now, but there are always people like me who are curious, and as such, look for themselves. Our differences are what make us superior, and what made us so great. That is enough to distinguish us from the failures.
In this multicultural society, the failures are equated with the strong, because it is believed that it would be cruel to leave them behind. This Marxist-like idea that the poor are our concerns, greatly drag us down. The poor are that way because they cannot stop oppressing themselves, not because of us. Those who wish to work; those who wish to free themselves, become enlightened and rich. This has always been the way of successful societies. The golden crown atop a king's head may have well come from copper from a miner. Yet they do not live in victimhood.
The victimhood stories are always told in books, movies, and on the Internet, because it invokes pity. It may be cruel to say this, but we must remain indifferent to them. The overall needs of the many are more important than the needs of the few. Things such as the re-defining of marriage, this equality, this need for pleasure, not well-being, has consumed us all in ways. When a society craves pleasure and not prosperity, it is a society heading to the grave.
Not all is lost: as long as there as those that do care, that have not been bogged down by paranoia spread by those false prophets of doom and conspiracy theories, society will remain. It, however, will take years longer to restore. It takes more energy to restore energy than to cause chaos; that is the nature of things.
But we are of order. That is what is important. The disorderly, the nigger, and their acolytes, may cry as loud as they want, but they will never be fully satisfied. The month of love, February, was given to them, and yet they want more. As the male-female dynamic continues to be torn apart by selfishness, the nigger has grown brazen. As a disease spreads, it will consume uninfected areas, but soon it would have run out, and will be forced to eat itself.
Strangely, this modern era reminds me of a story by the Brothers Grimm:
There was a man, who had a very needy and greedy wife. He went out to a pond and found a magic flounder, who granted him his wife's wishes. The man was always afraid, for himself and the wife, as his wife was so wanting. She wanted riches, and was granted them. She wanted to be a Queen, and was granted the title. She wanted to be Pope, and was granted the title. She wanted to be Emperor, and was granted it. With each wish the pond grew more polluted and the sky stormier. Eventually, the wife woke up one day, saw the rising Sun, and asked her husband to ask the flounder if she could become God.
So the man went, and asked the flounder. The flounder responded: "She will not have it, and will live in the state she began in."
The man and the wife lived in their ruined hut; everything was taken away just as quickly as they had gotten them.
Such is the fate of the nigger. Soon it will all come crashing down. Their dreams, polluted as they are, will be taken away, and they will find themselves in the state they began in.