Then that grey pulpy mass in the ninth and innermost layer of her mind-brain flapped and stirred. The Psychic Core awoke, sensing a powerful threat to the Inverted AMS Imperative. The core flapped, heaved, changed color and emitted master-clusters and surges of chemicals. Emo-grains opened and implanted images flashed through the lower layers of the mind-brain. In a minute or so, Elizabeth realized that she had been right all along. She drank deeply from the well of her academic training and strained for the right ideas, for arguments that convinced and suppressed.
Thelma just didn’t the capacity for subtle reasoning and for seeing the different ways that lines were drawn to delineate and define groups. Sometimes those lines and delineated sets overlapped, and some line systems had no significance at all. Now, for instance, take the line system described by the biology of people with respect to skin color, fineness of features, shape of head, and so on. It had no significance and was in fact illusory. Poor Thelma. “And yet I’m flustered,” she acknowledged, in another quarter of her mind. Then her mind struck out on a clear path, the only possible path.
“That’s too simple a way of looking at this picture. There are no races, certainly not in a biological sense. Humans are not classified, divided, by racial lines. But there are racialized groups.” She drew upon her many university courses, but now she plucked from her lessons with a mixture of conviction and desperation. She appeared to suck in oxygen, energy and confidence from the very air, a pink flush taking form on her neck and cheeks as the nutrients — chemical and ideological — surged through her brain and blood vessels.
“There are social groups marked as white, non-white, Oriental or Negroid. Ignorant persons racialize the people they see as Caucasian or Semitic or Mongoloid, and so on. They socially construct some people as white and some as black, or Oriental, and worst of all as the feared and hated Other. Thelma, the problem is that you have so little knowledge of biology. But if you took the trouble to go in-depth and listen to someone who knows about haplogroups, alleles, phenotypes and genotypes, we could have an intelligent discussion.”
By now Thelma’s head was spinning. It was useless speaking with her sister, so she embarked on a soliloquy. “She cannot see the difference between a Nigerian man and a white man. She cannot grasp that the differences in skin color and the frizzy or straight, wavy lines of the hair are a real-world, biological difference. She might perhaps say these differences are unimportant, but no, she actually denies they exist, and denies that they derive from race, from parentage and ancestry. She says there are no races. She says race is a social construct, which means “We imagine it, it’s imaginary.” Hell, was I born with blonde hair, or was it socially constructed?”
To her misfortune, Thelma saw a spade as a spade, and when a salesman spewed out a slew of double-talk and told her that the spade was actually a piss-pot of purest Babylonian gold, her eyes and mind still saw a spade and she dismissed the salesman as a liar and fraud. She just didn’t have what it took to fit into, or survive in, the politically correct ‘universal nation.’
She stared in disbelief at her sister. “She’s mad. Mad as a hatter. Raving loony bonkers insane. But hell, I’m talking to myself. Maybe I’ll go mad, too. It’s catching.”
“I simply fail to understand, Liz. So this is what they teach in the universities? I’ll bet they don’t teach this garbage in China or Mexico. There are no races! But then, they still have a country, a real country, and we trash whites don’t. Thank God I didn’t get what you call an education. Gary’s right. We should burn down these universities. And if parents knew what was being taught in them, they would.”
She turned an inquiring eye upon her sister. “Are you in the loony bin or am I?” She appealed to Gary. “Am I mad, or is she?”
Elizabeth was getting exasperated. “Oh for god’s sake, just go on the internet. You’ll find thousands of articles, research studies, by professors and scientists who say exactly that: biologically, race does not exist. There is no racial, genetic or biological line between the people of Scandinavia and the black people of Africa. In fact, I read only the other day a learned article to the effect that to make a diagnosis and prescribe a medicine, a doctor should rely on the social environment and the languages spoken by the patient, not his genetics.”
Gary did not merely laugh, he hooted with laughter, long and loud. Rely on the languages and the social environment of the patient to diagnose his illness! He had a reply for his sister.
“Thousands of scientists and professors say there are no races? I know they do. But I’ll find you a thousand twenty-dollar whores, and at twenty dollars they’ll put to shame the exorbitant salaries that these scholastic whores take.”
Thelma raised a warning finger. “Now, now. Temper, temper. Really brother, that’s a little over the top. But once again, is she mad or am I?”
“Depends on how you look at it, I suppose.” Gary appeared to be reflecting on something abstract, something far away, and Elizabeth had the strangest impression that he was chewing on leather. Tough and seasoned leather, the old-fashioned variety.
“Yes?” And Elizabeth’s tone of voice added, “And what lunacy am I going to hear now?”
But now Gary’s style of speech was that of a connoisseur or expert discoursing upon some fine point that was of interest only to devotees and aficionados, something quite unconnected with any tangible need. He might have been discussing the root cultural causes behind the curiosity that Canadians preferred Chateau d’Yquem wine to Benedictine liqueur, or Handel sonatas to Bach concertos. He rambled thoughtfully.
“Well there was a man who was found gnawing on rose bushes. Some people thought he was insane. But from his point of view, he was really quite reasonable. You see, he had ingested some strong drug, and was under the impression that those rose bushes were a ham and cheese omelet. So, from his point of view, it was really quite reasonable to munch on those rose bushes.”
“The point being?” Elizabeth’s voice had taken on a most acerbic note. When she elected to do so, she could make a person feel they had just stepped in dog poo.
Undaunted, Gary continued to ramble, and to amble on verbally. The man was enjoying himself, abominably so.
“The point being that one should examine one’s starting point. And see if it is a sound one. I’ll give you an example. You’ve often said that this is not our country. Canada is not a white country. We stole the land from the native Indians, hence we are a guilty people. It is not legitimately our land. Hence we have no right to wish for a white town, a white street or a white school, for Cheryl or anyone else. Only the natives have a legitimate right to the land, and you stand up for their title to the land.
On the other hand, you argue ferociously for the ‘right’ of people from China, Korea and Congo to come here and live here in droves and millions. To use up the resources that belong only to the Natives, and to dispossess them of the land of Canada. To dispossess the Natives finally and forever, for behind those millions of Chinese, Koreans and Congolese are many more billions. And they will be ruthless to the Natives. Just look at how the Chinese treat the natives of Tibet, and the Uighur peoples of Xinjiang.
You want all these people to come and steal the land of the Natives. So, you do not really support the title and right of the Natives to the land. You’re not really against the stealing of land from the Natives. Quite the contradiction, eh? You have to be mad to take both stances.” He paused.
Gary swallowed, gazed into the middle distance, and resumed. “Secondly, let’s take the right endowed by “I was here first.” You say that you uphold this ground of claim. The natives have the sole right to the land of Canada because they can say “I was here first.” Good. But then, Shane said we should assert the same claim. We should stop people from the Third World from immigrating into Canada by asserting “We whites were here first.” You disagreed. No, those days are gone, you said. You, Liz. You said: We live in a world state and must think of this as one world where all people can come and go and live where they please. No one should stake a claim on the ground that “I was here first.” So, you uphold “I was here first” and then you do not uphold it.” He shook his head bemusedly.
|Sikhs Thanking White Canadians For The Great Replacement|
“Third. You say this is not our land, as white people. We have no right to it. Yet you arrogate to yourself the right to give it away to Fijians and Indonesians, in your stance of “Canada for everyone.” How do you give away what is not yours?
Now, Liz my dear, a neutral person might assess you as psychotic, bat-shit crazy. But I will not.”
Elizabeth was dreadfully confused, for she was sure that her set of opinions was consistent and right. She had never seen any internal contradictions in her stance, and she was sure that this was just clever sophistry and trick argumentation on the part of Gary. No doubt he had gleaned these fake arguments from Shane and his biker friends. An intellectual from the universities or the foundations could easily expose the false premises these tricks derived from, and the faulty logic within them. A few sentences would reassure her. But she was confounded, for the moment, and it was an effort to speak.
“Well, that is most generous of you, brother mine, to concede that I am not bat-shit crazy. But may I ask to what consideration I owe this honor, or exoneration?”
He fixed her with a gimlet eye. “Quite simple, really. From the point of view of your starting point, you are reasonable and consistent. You see, you feel that your own race, the white race, is inferior, guilty, and worthless, and should be replaced by the better, kinder, colored peoples. You despise your own people and worship all people and things alien. When we devil whites go, the world will be a better place. That is your starting point. These bushes are a ham and cheese omelet.
And all your stances are consistent with that. We devil whites have no rights to the land, but all the colored peoples do, even those from Outer Mongolia and Booga-Booga land. This way, we whites will be inundated under them all, to die and vanish. And you will have served the superior, wonderful aliens. You get to munch your omelet.
You will believe and support any idea that goes against your own people and will help or promote the alien. And you will never spot the contradictions and insanities in those ideas, because you do not want to. Others will look at the three contradictions I pointed out, and see you snarfing rose bushes in the loony bin. But you’re really quite sane. You’re 100% consistent and reasonable in line with your starting point, or base line: kill the white, serve the alien. You’re enjoying your nourishing omelet.”
Thelma was grinning from ear to ear, but Elizabeth did not see it, which was just as well for Thelma, for her sister was now in the mood to throw a book, and it might well have been the nearest book, A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth, an East Indian writer. It was a thick and bulky book, and it would likely put a nasty dent in Thelma’s aquiline nose, a nose that she quite liked. Elizabeth’s nostrils had flared, but not with haughtiness.
|“Record Number of Muslim MPs Elected”|
“Now that is crap. I believe in a world society without discrimination, where people of all races can live together, and multicultural Canada is a wonderful, wonderful experiment that will take us a long way to that goal. And as for the rest, absolute unadulterated crap. I have never said that whites are inferior. We are all equal.”
Gary stiffened as though an electric current had surged up his spine and jolted his brain in both hemispheres. He stared at her in blank amazement, as though she were a prawn that had floated in from outer space.
“Really, Liz? More than once in your talks with Shane, and I’m going back over five years, you’ve been asked your feelings about the possibility, now the probability, that the white race might vanish, go extinct, in one or two generations —”
“What can that have to do with —?”
“Well, how do you feel about that? Now.”
“My feelings haven’t changed. I have no problem with that prospect that seems so grim to you Neanderthals. “The white race will go extinct. There will be no more white people walking this earth.”” She was imitating the way Shane and his friends had uttered the words, lampooning them in a deep bass voice.
She continued. “So there will be no more white people. So what? So we’ll all be brown. And that was always enough to shut up Shane. And Richard, his biker friend.”
Gary remembered. “Richard Hall? Yeah, I guess it did shut them up. But we’ll not all be brown. Not all of us humans. We won’t exist. You won’t be brown because you won’t exist. You’re white and you won’t exist in a world that is all brown. And you will not live on in your descendants, in Cheryl and her children. You will have been genocided out of existence. The point is, though, that all animals are equal, but some are less equal than others. According to you, all races are equal and identical, but the white race is so worthless — so inferior — that it is no loss to anyone if it disappears. You lie to yourself and to me when you say that you never felt the white race was inferior.”
Elizabeth was a little discomfited, but her verbal sword never hesitated, and she parried the blow.
“Please don’t put words in my mouth. I never said that white people were worthless.”
Gary shook his head and brushed his left sleeve with his right hand. “No sis, that’s exactly what you said. Just now. If you’re willing and happy to see the disappearance of anything, like say a shirt or a diamond ring, it is worthless to you. And you’re happy to see the vanishing of the white race; it is worthless, in your eyes.”
Elizabeth considered this. That wasn’t the way she would have expressed it; that wasn’t exactly the way she thought about it. She felt exasperated. “So what? What’s all the to-do about? What’s so great about the white race anyway?”
Gary shrugged. “Hell, what’s so great about the Chinese race, or the Arab race? Yet you fight for their ‘right’ to come here and to Austria and enjoy our lands — okay, the lands we control — and to also keep theirs. For you, they are super-races. As for us, we’re not entitled to a single country, a single church hall, or a single street for ourselves. No sense of community, of togetherness of like-minded people for us. We’re worthless, of no vale at all. And I ask you something, Liz of the Lion-Heart, champion of the non-whites, member of humanity but not of your own white race. What’s so great about the human race, that bunch of gobbling, belching bipeds? What’s it got that the white race, your own segment of it, doesn’t have?”