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International News Title: WHITE RACE & CATS IN PRISON I. Kim Jong Il sat in prison all alone. A cat walked along, passing out worn books. Cats staged a riot in prison. The white race will not survive if it casts a forlorn look behind its back where the ships have sailed a long time ago to distant shores where nobody has ever heard of or even seen a white man. Not in ages, not ever. Arthur the king was lonely and sad in his castle on top of the mountain. All around him in moats built centuries ago crocodiles roamed and had a veritable party in the water, eating drinking and generally just gambling the night away. The white race was not happy with the parcel that was delivered to his home in the ghetto. Signed by all the cats not yet caught by the cat police, the letter stated in no uncertain terms that the white race was scheduled to attend a hearing at the police station the next day. Police constable Butler was sure to grill the white race! The white race would have to sweat it out, answering all the questions that police constable Butler would ask it. Question one: Where did you grow up? Answer: All over the world. The white race would ask for a coffee and a cigarette. Smoking the cigarette and drinking the coffee, the white race would sing a song of praise to the eternal ones while acknowledging the condition it was in at the moment, disheveled tired and coughing in a seedy police station on the other side of the tracks. Police constable Butler continued the grilling. Question: What happened on the night of October 10th? Answer: I lost my marbles and puked out my guts all over the carpet. There was blood and some meat in soy sauce. At night the white race lay awake staring at the peeling wallpaper and the stains on the ceiling. Holding a can in its hands, it took long sips watching TV and scratching its fat belly. The cat was sleeping at its feet, feeling content and sometimes like a prisoner when looking out the window and seeing the wide world outside moving along without the cat. The cat was fed by the white race twice a day and in the evening it was brushed with a blue brush. II. Blue snow surrounds the cat prison. It is blueberry winter weather. The cats are in prison because they insulted the dog king. The cats are trying to escape, full of adventure and danger and escaping through manholes into the lower depths of the complex world of dog eat dog and sometimes cat. Who called the dog catcher? The man with the whistle or the woman with the bow? Bow and arrows, a green suit, a perfect archer, Robin Hood type, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. The white race remembers when it took from the poor to give to the rich. Now it has relegated itself to lurking in the dark shadows of reflective dismissal. The white race opens a can of cat food and feeds the cat. The cat eats greedily. Rabbit. The cat eats rabbit greedily. Twice a week the TV announces that a fresh gator has been caught on the outskirts of the City. Nobody knows where the City actually ends. The outskirts always seem a few miles off to the north or the south. Somehow the middle is always caught off guard. Guffaws and laughter. The white race bows, its shame hidden in a sardonic smile cut from ear to ear. The smile is crimson, cut with a thousand spears and brushed with long black eyelashes belonging to a nymph of one of the nameless tribes from the dark valley in the dark country on the dark continent. Browbeaten and shaved, the white race succumbs to another sudden rush of hysteria and laughs off the ennui it feels when watching its fellow races wallow in delight at its slow and decaying demise. III. The white race went to the movies. A DARK DAY IN DOOMTOWN was playing. Frogs crowded the theater and the white race had problems finding a seat to jerk off in in peace. The theater was not dark enough either, so the white race left disappointedly. The white race bought a pack of fags in London and ate some rice and noodles in Chinatown. They were all out of Peking ducks. Batman and Superman finally clashed, but then they made up and, holding hands like a newlywed couple in love, they walked through Central Park looking at the fountains and the niggers selling crack. Superman suddenly had a craving for duck. So he flew to Beijing to get some Peking duck. Batman meanwhile played with the ducks at a pond in Central Park. Within minutes Superman was back with the Peking duck. Superman and Batman sat on a bench overlooking the pond and ate the Peking duck together while observing the ducks swimming in the pond. The Peking duck was tasty but lacked some zest. At eleven o’ clock in the morning Mr. Dada and Mr. Blabla met in the street and shook hands. Mr. Dada reminded Mr. Blabla of the latter’s dentist appointment. Mr. Blabla reminded Mr. Dada of the latter’s eye doctor appointment. Both parted and went their separate ways. Mr. Blabla had a wisdom tooth pulled and Mr. Dada had his left eye taken out. Mr. Blabla was left with a hole among his teeth and Mr. Dada had to wear an eye patch like a pirate. Sometimes the white race wakes up in the middle of the night to take a shot of vodka. IV. One cat smoked a water pipe, the other cat drank mouse juice with a shot of vodka. “Hey, did you hear the story of Bill?” the smoking cat asked. “No, who’s Bill?” the drinking cat replied. “Bill is the cat that got run over while hunting two squirrels on the freeway last night,” the smoking cat said. “A damn shame, another cat lost to the wheels of a metal monster,” the drinking cat said. “Lost and gone forever,” the smoking cat said. “What’s bothering you?” “We need a car.” “How big you want it?” “We’ll sort it out for you, man.” “Can you get me a van?” “I need an Inferno car.” The white race in an Inferno car speeding along the freeway. All of a sudden two frightened squirrels chased by an angry cat appear in front of the car. Screech! Too late! Thump! Thump! Thump! Two small and a slightly larger smear on the asphalt stink to heaven but are ignored by the higher being in charge of the animal kingdom. The white race stops at a diner five miles down the freeway to have a nice long lunch, including two cheeseburgers and a large coke. The white race orders the cheeseburgers medium rare and the coke large. The waitress’ name is Kimberly and she smiles an innocent but not so innocent smile while taking the order. Her day could be better but so could the white race’s. V. It was a fine morning indeed! The maid washed the sheets and swept the remains under the carpet. The motel was empty. All guests had left in a hurry. The owner had a beer on the porch in front of his office and was contemplating the risk involved in buying a used car dealership. Bobby Long, his old friend from high school, was offering one on the internet. The owner was lighting a cigarette when a lazy cat sat down underneath the motel’s vacancy sign. The owner sighed and thought about the night when he and Bobby Long robbed the convenient store and did the chicken dance with the gook owner’s wife while whistling tunes of glory of glories past. The white race could not find a place to crash anywhere. WHITE BLACK GREY CATS RACE DOOM DEATH DESTRUCTION SLEEP AWAKE HOURS SLEEP NO SLEEP WHITE RACE SHOOTS KILLS WHACKS MAFIA CATS CAT DON SPAGHETTI SICILY CORRUPTION STEPPE CATS HORSES RIDE WHITE RACE CHASE DREAM DEATH Everybody dreams of ice-cream. The cats licked the vanilla ice-cream off the hands of the white race. The white race was purring and the cats were reading a newspaper. The cats shot a dog and the white race went for a walk. The cats booked a passage on the Titanic and the Titanic did not sink. It arrived in New York safely and the cats went off board and started a new life in the promised land. The white race dreamed of an iceberg. VI. And after a while the white race fell in love with another race. They got married and on their wedding night they made sweet love on the kitchen table in the house of the white race’s ancient mother. The babies of the white race’s union with the other race roamed the house where once the white race’s ancestors had resided. In those happy days, the white race’s ancestors had smoked the pipe in front of the hearth, relating stories of their wanderings all over this once fair earth of ours. Then the babies of the white race’s union with the other race grew up, but still they soiled themselves and sometimes defecated on the living room floor. As young adults, they screamed for the attention of their mother while the white race ignored them, shut itself in the study and learned to deal with abstract problems only. The dawn came too quickly one fine morning in the prison. The guards were shoveling snow outside the cells and the cats observed the process mournfully. How much they wanted to dip their furry paws into the cold white mass outside the cold steel bars! But alas! Christmas came and went and the cats were not allowed once to dip their furry paws into the cold white mass outside the cold steel bars. They had to sit in silence in their cells and pray that in the future, maybe next Christmas, they would be allowed to dip their furry paws into the cold white mass outside the cold steel bars. VII. Lovecraft in Moscow. He slithers through ethereal tunnels. Red place, black place, white place… Which one is free? Cats eating dogs in South Korean posh restaurants on the Upper East Side. Cats eating dogs in sleazy expat cafes in Southeast Asia. The expats do not know they are also eating dogs. The cats are laughing at the expats behind their backs. The doctor is in the house! The doctor is in the house! He is now 82 and used to send people who wanted to die to their deaths. In a mobile gas van, mind you. The white race watched a movie about it once and cried itself to sleep afterwards. At two or three or five, the doorbell rang twice. The white race answered the door in its pyjamas. There was a big green stain on the collar. The white race was sick and had drooled through its nose again in its sleep. Ectoplasm. The longing for its righteous place in the sun was strong again. An overcast sky and a power cut kept it in the dark again, however. The man handed the white race a package, made the white race sign a sheet of paper and said thank you and then left. The white race closed the door and looked at the package. It was a grey package. Finally the weapon/device with which to seal its fate! Hurriedly, the white race ripped open the package and took out a simple gun. But it was not a gun at all! The white race aimed the gun (which was not a gun at all!) at itself, pulled the trigger (which also was not a trigger at all!) and passed right out, green drool dripping from its nose onto its collar. VIII. We have to be very careful. Every corner of the church. An open mind. Delighted with the work. Something else next time. It’s quiet, you know. Perhaps I’ve been unlucky. Enquire into the last hours. The most merciful thing that could have happened. Right out on the cliff’s edge. Right on the razor’s edge, the white race seemed to be pondering. Looking up and down. The white race shook its head. Shall I come and help you, then? I could have cut my tongue out. The white race decided upon direct tactics. Feeling a bit strange? Which species would go for this particular job. The white race flushed and bit its lips, ashamed. Where’s your bride? Your pride? The white race believed in keeping an open mind. Trained to evasion. It would be offensive to complain. I’m rather tired. I’d like to sleep. Being jostled by a crowd of pushing, feverish people. A little bit of smoke will clear away the smell of stale cat shit. It was really pathetic to hear the white race talk, it was so sure of itself. The tears were still running on its cheeks. The discovery of a word long lost to it. The cat climbed up the chair, curled itself up and fell asleep almost instantly, purring the purr of the wicked and the just. It was well fed and content. And the clock struck midnight. And the door opened and… IX. The cats are asleep. The white race is stroking its erect cock. The juice left a stain on the sheet. The bed is too soft. The white race is wondering where it can get its next dirty fix. The white race wasn’t flexible enough to lick its own balls. Pleasuring itself with a finger instead, the white race groaned softly as it flicked the cigarette butt into a corner of the dirty room. Outside police sirens drowned out the wailing sorrow of the masses in anguish. Overhead the rotor blades were cutting slices out of the smog encasing the city like a dome of dust. The cats drank milk and were happy for a minute or two. Then the warden switched off the light. The cats went to sleep and dreamed of blueberries. Tasty juicy blueberries. Like suckling on their mother’s mammary gland. Twice a day. This is how the doctor was kept away. In the morning an injection into their furry butts and in the evening a newspaper and an apple. Educated and well-nourished, the cats still craved meat. The butcher’s around the corner always threw out sausage that had slightly gone bad. The cats relished the times when the butcher threw out sausage that had slightly gone bad. They waited in front of the door for the butcher to come out. When he came out, they watched him throw the sausage into a big black bin. After he had gone back inside, the cats fished the sausage out of the big black bin with their furry paws. They ate the sausage and were happy. At that time, the cats felt, it was the best of all possible worlds.
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#1. To: continental op (#0)
(Edited)
There is no such thing as a "white race". That is a genetic fact.
"This is what economic policy in the West has become--a tool of the wealthy used to enrich themselves by spreading poverty among the rest of the population." Paul Craig Roberts
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