Extra! Extra! Update from East England!
Either there are two wily and capable 21st-century Céline impersonators roaming the East English internets—or (despite the best efforts of the legitimate and authorized Post-European authorities) that rogue Maître Derville remains on the loose:
All this is nothing I want more, I want millions, hordes, packs, ships, trains, lines, docks stations, packet avalanches, breaking tons, it literally rains, the year of jellyfish, so that everywhere, taxis, basements, sewers, he falls by parachute, it drips and that headed ahead of the legions and columns perched on a giant blind guides a monstrous dwarf, the Hungarian dwarf.
I want them to roam in Neuilly, they sleep on the bearings of the XVI century, they meddle at Fauchon, beg at Hédiard, paluchent clients of Balenciaga, sniff those of Cartier steered Weston, Old England and Poussin Bleu, they vomit on Lacoste shirts, they shootent Grand Vefour, they Mansonisent in Chevreuse Valley, they up the fire at Angelina, they nicate the Crillon, the George plunder V, craps on the carpet at the Ritz, pray at Matignon by thousands, do their racing on the Exchange, and piss in St. Laurent.
I want them to violate Constance Marie, and Alix Charles Edward, I want them crament The Century, The World and Regine, they sodomize clients of contemporary art galleries, they gangbanguent of the American Plaza, hijackent the big guns of the Vendôme car park, and shoot automatic weapons streets of Treviso, Place Furstenberg, the Parc Monceau and Placentia.
I want the barbarian armies, severed heads, where application of crap killings, sharia, the green flag in black scabbard, an ethnic bomb, flooding, drowning, panic, hell, escape and exodus, firefighters lynched, sores flabbergasted, journalists strung, cops eaten; armies disarmed; Legion devoured, aviation vaudouisée, the Republic collapsed, Mariane bewitched by reduction with pins in the cu *, Paname in flames, Charles Maxentius in the gutter ass in the air, Ernestine cramée in his Mini, and everything else included remote descendants, castrated and galleys. Dammit!
Dammit! In addition to the obvious suspect, this material is also remarkably reminiscent of perhaps Brasillach’s most famous passage, which I won’t quote because it’s anti-Semitic and I’m yet another greasy, simian (half-) Yid. If you look, perhaps you can find it. (Also, I hereby nominate “Mansonisent” as Franglicism of the year.)
Meanwhile, via the vile, racist Unamusement Park, a small but plucky group of American artists has (barely) dodged The Man to compose an illustrated anthem to this same shocking, yet precise, vision of the new century. Surely you can spare five minutes for a concentrated dose of pure urban reality? Don’t miss the unexpected blast of diversity toward the close of the work:
The New York Times, journal of record, describes Mr. Flame as:
… a pure-energy rapper who just blows the house in.
Indeed. And especially with reviews like that (in the journal of record), how could a man be afraid of another man? Or, more poetically (if in translation):
What’s a neighbor with some money without a team? People say that neighbor’s not real neighbor genes.
Certainly a complex point. Concerned, we put the question to one of dead America’s great ecclesiastical voices, the very, very Rev. R.L. Dabney, who in To Major-General Howard (1865) dipped his own bad wick in pure pyrophoric bile and screamed with tongue on fire. Perhaps you’ll be surprised to see Stonewall Jackson’s personal theology consultant make this strong Christian case for affirmative action:
Having shown you the starting point of that career of beneficence to the African, from which you are solemnly bound to God and history to advance, I now return to strengthen the already irresistible argument of that obligation. If the South, with all its disadvantages, has done this modicum of good to this poor people, the North, their present guardians, with their vast advantages, must do far more.
The South was the inferior section (so the North told us) in number, in wealth, in progress, in intelligence, in education, in religion. The South (so the North says) held the Africans under an antiquated, unrighteous and mischievous relation—that of domestic slavery. The North now has them on the new footing, which is, of course, precisely the right one.
The South was their oppressor; the North is their generous liberator. The South was hagridden in all its energies for good (so we were instructed) by the “barbarism of slavery”; the North contains the most civilized, enlightened and efficient people on earth.
Now, if you do not surpass our poor performances for the negro with this mighty contrast in your favor, how mighty will be the just reprobation which will be visited upon you by the common sentiment of mankind and by the Lord of Hosts? If you do not surpass our deeds as far as your power and greatness surpass ours, how can you stand at His bar, even beside us sinners? He has taught us that “a man is accepted according to that which he hath, and not according to that which he hath not.” To this righteous rule we intend to hold you, as our successors in the guardianship of the negro.
If there are any who endeavor to lull your energies in this work, by saying that the negro, being now a free man, must take care of himself like other people; that he should be thrown on his own resources, and that, if he does not provide for his own well-being, he should be left to suffer, I beseech you, in the behalf of humanity, of justice and of your own good name, not to hearken to them.
I ask you solemnly whether the freedmen have an “even start” in the race for subsistence with the other laboring men of the nation, marked as they are by difference of race and color, obstructed by stubborn prejudices, and disqualified (as you hold) for the responsibilities of self-support, to some extent, by the evil effects of their recent bondage upon their character? Is it fair, or right, or merciful to compel him to enter the stadium, and leave him to this fierce competition under these grave disadvantages?
Again, no peasantry under the sun was ever required or was ever able to sustain themselves when connected with the soil by no tenure of any form. Under our system our slaves had the most permanent and beneficial form of tenancy; for their master’s lands were bound to them by law for furnishing them homes, occupations and subsistence during the whole continuance of the master’s tenure. But you have ended all this, and consigned four millions of people to a condition of homelessness. Will the North thus make gipsies of them, and then hold them responsible for the ruin which is inevitable from such a condition?
But there is another argument equally weighty. By adopting the unfeeling policy of throwing the negro upon his own resources, to sink or swim as he may, you run too great a risk of verifying the most biting reproaches and objections of your enemies.
They, in case of his failure, will argue thus: that the great question in debate between the defenders of slavery and the advocates of emancipation was whether the negro was capable of self-control: that the former, who professed to be more intimately acquainted with his character, denied that he was capable of it, and solemnly warned you of the danger of his ruin, if he was intrusted with his own direction, in this country, and that you, in insisting on the experiment in spite of this warning, assumed the whole responsibility.
Sir, if the freedmen should perchance fail to swim successfully, that argument would be too damaging to you and your people. You cannot afford to venture upon this risk. You are compelled by the interests of your own consistency and good name, to take effectual care that the negro shall swim; and that better than before. In the name of justice, I remonstrate against your throwing him off in his present state, by the inexorable fact that he was translated into it, neither by us, nor by himself, but by you alone; for out of that fact proceeds an obligation upon you, to make your experiment successful, which will cleave to you even to the judgment day.
And out of that fact proceeds this farther obligation: that seeing you have persisted, of your own free will, in making this experiment of his liberation, you and your people are bound to bestow anything or everything, and to do everything, except sin, to insure that it shall be, as compared with his previous condition, a blessing to him. For, if you were not willing to do all this, were you not bound to let him alone?
When the shipmaster urges landsmen to embark in his ship, and venture the perils.of the deep, he thereby incurs an obligation, if a storm arises, to do everything and risk everything, even to his own life, for the rescue of his charge. If, then, you and your people should find that it will require the labors of another million of busy hands, and the expenditure of three thousand millions more of the national wealth, to obviate the evils and dangers arising to the freedmen from your experiment upon their previous condition: yea, if to do this, it is necessary to make the care and maintenance of the African the sole business and labor of the whole mighty North, you will be bound to do it at this cost.
And I beg you, sir, let no one vainly think to evade this duty which they owe you in your charge, by saying that perhaps even so profuse an expenditure as this, for the benefit of the Africans, would fail of its object; because they hold that making a prosperous career is one of those things like chewing their own food, or repenting of their own sins, which people must do for themselves, or else they are impossible to be done; and that so no amount of help can make the freedmen prosperous as such, without the right putting forth of their own spontaneity.
For, do you not see that this plea surrenders you into the hands of those bitter adversaries, the Pro-Slavery men? Is this not the very thing they said? This was precisely their argument to show that philanthropy required the Africans in this country should be kept in a dependent condition. If your section acquiesces in the failure of your experiment of their liberation on this ground, what will this be but the admission of the damning charge that your measure is a blunder and a crime, aggravated by the warning so emphatic, which your opponents gave you, and to which you refused to listen?
But I feel bound, as your zealous and faithful supporter in your humane task, to give you one more caution. The objectors who watch you with so severe an eye have even a darker suggestion to make than the charge of headstrong rashness and criminal mistake in your experiment of emancipation. They are heard gloomily to insinuate that the ruin of the African (which they so persistently assert must result from the change) is not the blunder of the North, but the foreseen and intended result!
Are you aware of the existence of this frightful innuendo? It is my duty to reveal it to you, that you may be put upon your guard. These stern critics are heard darkly hinting that they know Northern statesmen and presses who now admit, with a sardonic shrug, that the black man, deprived of the benignant shield of domestic servitude, must of course perish like the red man.
These critics are heard inferring that the true meaning of Northern Republicanism and Free Soil is, that the white race must be free to shoulder the black race off this continent, and monopolize the sunny soil, which the God of nations gave the latter as their heritage. They take a sort of grim pleasure in pointing to the dead infants, which, they say, usually marked the liberating course of your armies through the South, in displaying the destitution and mortality which, they charge, are permitted in the vast settlements of freedmen under your care; in insinuating the rumors of official returns of a mortality already incurred in the Southwest, made to your government, so hideous that their suppression was a necessity; and in relating how the jungles which are encroaching upon the once smiling “coasts” of the Mississippi, in Louisiana, already envelope the graves of half the black population in that State!
And the terrible inference from all this, which they intimate is, that the great and powerful North only permits these disasters because it intends them; that, not satisfied with the wide domain which Providence has assigned to them, they now pretend to liberate the slave whom they have seen too prosperous under his domestic servitude, in order to destroy him, and grasp, in addition, the soil which he has occupied.
Now, sir, it is incumbent on you, that the premises on which, with so dangerous a plausibility, they ground this tremendous charge, be effectually contradicted by happy and beneficent results. You must refute this monstrous indictment, and there is only one way to do it, by actually showing that you conserve and bless the African race, multiply their numbers, and confirm their prosperity on the soil, more than we have done.
I repeat, the North must refute it thus. For, of course, every Northern man, while indignantly denying and abhorring it, admits (what is as plain as the sun at midday) that if the charge were indeed true, it would convict his people of the blackest public crime of the nineteenth century; a crime which would be found to involve every aggravation and every element of enormity which the nomenclature of ethics enables us to describe. It would be the deliberate, calculated, cold-blooded, selfish dedication of an innocent race of four millions to annihilation; the murder, with malice prepence, of a nation!
Not by the comparatively merciful process of the royal Hun, whose maxim was, that “thick grass is cut more easily than thin,” summary massacre; but by the slowly eating cancer of destitution, degradation, immorality, protracting the long agony through two or three generations, thus multiplying the victims who would be permitted to be born only to sin, to suffer and to perish; and insuring the everlasting perdition of the soul, along with the body, by cunningly making their own vices the executioners of the doom.
It would include the blackest guilt of treason being done under the deceitful mask of benefaction and by pretended liberators. The unrighteousness of its motive would concur with its treachery to enhance its guilt to the most stupendous height; for upon this interpretation of the purpose of the North, that motive would be, first to weaken and disable its late adversary, the South, by destroying that part of the people which was guilty of no sin against you, and then, by this union of fraud and force, to seize and enjoy the space which God gave them, and laws and constitution guaranteed.
This, indeed, would be the picture which these accusers would then present of your splendid act, that you came as a pretended friend and deliverer to the African, and while he embraced you as his benefactor in all his simple confidence and joy, you thrust your sword through and through his heart, in order to reach, with a flesh wound, the hated white man who stood behind him, whom you could not otherwise reach.
The deed would receive an additional shade of blackness from every reproach which the North has ever uttered against us for our supposed oppression of the black man, from every profession of your superior humanity toward him—from every assertion of your superior civilization, light and Christianity. For is it not the righteous penalty of the servant who knew the will of his Divine Master and did it not, to be beaten with many stripes?
If the North should, indeed, after all its claims of the traits which exalt a people, have this most accursed deed fastened upon it, then would be fulfilled against it that awful warning which the Son of God thundered against the most boastful of the abusers of His teachings: “Thou Capernaum, which art exalted unto heaven, shalt be thrust down to hell.”
There’s more, but I’m afraid it gets a little anti-Semitic here. Oh well. Later, our Reverend continues:
Another of your difficulties will be found in the enormous misconceptions which now fill the minds of the freedmen. The mischief of one of these I have already indicated. It suited your purposes, during the season of strife, diligently to teach the negro that the white people of the South were their oppressors and enemies. Well, sir, they have learned your lesson effectually, and will not speedily unlearn it.
The consequence is that you have thereby stripped yourself of the aid of eight millions of white people in your arduous task, and these, the white people among whom the larger part of the freedmen still live, among whom alone are to be found persons familiar with African character, and among whom alone has there ever been, or will there ever be an ingenuous personal affection for individuals of that race. We have lost the ability to guide, counsel, or instruct them. The larger part of them evidently confound liberty with license; and to them, liberty means living without earning a living.
Accustomed to see their masters performing little manual labor (because they were necessarily occupied with the more important, and often more arduous, labor of superintendence), the freedmen assume that, to be free, is to be like their masters in the former particular. They forget this little difference, that a man cannot be usefully occupied in the labor of superintendence, when he has nobody to superintend.
Your first task, sir, will be to convince them of this mistake, and, as I have proved, you are bound to do this, without causing or permitting them to suffer any painful consequence of this error. Your emissaries, armed and clerical, diligently taught them that all the labor rendered by them in servitude was uncompensated; and that every dollar of the proceeds of that labor taken by the landholder, was a robbery from them.
(A good and certain home and livelihood at all times, sustenance for their families, provision for their decrepitude, and maintenance for those they left behind them are, in the eyes of these philosophers, no compensation at all, even for that labor which is least skilled; because, I presume, they were so secure and regular. And it is the established doctrine of the Abolition school, that, while labor is entitled to wages, capital is not; in accordance with which truth, those good people, as is well known, always lend out their money for nothing, and pay away the whole profits of their costly factories in wages to operatives.)
The consequence of this doctrine among the freedmen is this: They argue that all the property in the country being the fruit of their unrequited labor, they may now help themselves to a fair return, whenever and however they can. Hence a habit of what we old fashioned Southerners used to call “theft,” which renders them of rather doubtful utility as hired laborers.
You will have a great deal of trouble, sir, in correcting this mistake; and again, I urge that you are bound to do this, without permitting or causing the freedmen to taste any of its bitter consequences. For, I reason of this as of all other misconceptions which they learned of you, that you are solemnly bound not to let them suffer for what was your error. What, will you punish them for believing you? It would be a monstrous iniquity.
You have this task then, gently to educate them out of this innocent mistake of stealing everything which comes to their hand, by “moral suasion,” without stocks, whipping posts, jails, or any such harsh measures; and meantime, to generously repair all the evil consequences of those thefts, to themselves or others, out of your own inexhaustible pockets. Do you not think, sir, that to effect this the “schoolmaster” will have to go “abroad” pretty considerably?
But, perhaps, the greatest of your difficulties is the one which has been hitherto least appreciated—the novelty of your task.
You, sir, are appointed to do what no other mortal has hitherto done successfully: to transmute four millions of slaves, of an alien race and lower culture, all at once into citizens, without allowing them to suffer or deteriorate on your hands. You have no precedents to guide you. You cannot resort to the pages of political history to find there the lights which may show you your momentous duties.
But there is no other guide in political science. The machinery of moral causes, which forms a political society, is too complex for any finite mind to foresee, by its a priori speculations, what wheels will be moved by the spring which he touches. His only safe guide is the experience of previous results under similar conditions. If he attempts to act beyond; this his action is, in the worst sense, experiment; a blind guess, leading him by haphazard to unforeseen results.
In the sciences of material things, these experiments have been useful and are legitimate. The philosopher may properly deal thus with his metallic ore; he may venture his unproved hypothesis concerning it; he may submit it to new solvents, or acids, or fires; oftentimes he will find that his hypothesis is false and leads to nothing; but sometimes he will find that it is the occasion of stumbling upon the key to one of nature’s precious secrets.
Now, his justification is that the ore which he eats with corrosive acids, or melts in his furnace, suffers nothing in this blundering process of questioning after new truth. It has no nerves to be fretted under his handling; no heart to be wrung; no sentient or intellectual destiny to be perverted or destroyed under his mistakes, and, above all, no immortal soul to be lost in his hands.
But, in social science, mere experiments are crimes; for the subjects of them are immortal intelligences, endowed by God with a moral destiny, with hearts to bleed under errors, and never-dying souls to be lost.
Fearful, then, is the responsibility of him who handles a social revolution new in the history of man. He must march; yet he cannot know whether or not the path which he selects will lead him over the bleeding hearts and ruined destinies of his own charge. For such, the only adequate director is the Spirit of God; and his best resort is prayer. To that resort I sincerely and solemnly commend you; and close by subscribing myself,
Your very obedient servant, ROBERT L. DABNEY, Sept. 12, 1865. Prince Edward County, Va.
I think it’s pretty clear that the Rev. Dabney picked the wrong year to stop sniffing glue. (You can probably guess how he feels about dancing.)
It’s also pretty clear that our correspondent is… well.. a racist. Oh, well. And on this count, alas, it can’t be too soon to start worrying about M. Derville himself:
Okay, now really, one thing we must do is to stop the shit auscultate social sticky to find the worst crevards as this purple pine. Many guys found themselves in the heading of news items for less than that, cold case.
Tell me about French workers, fishermen who play against drowning with a fake pair face a sea emptied, between twelve crazy diktats of Brussels.
Cause me the last French peasants without women, crushed by the banks and the bureaucracy, now ten times less numerous than clandos.
Tell me about the sleepless nights and thousands of craftsmen and small businessmen who do more than pay for it not to lay, I learned the old workers slamming mouth open and their widows, featuring shabby pensions fifth no lift, which freed me of Ingé’s forced expatriates, and five bins in mathematics who drive trams.
I plead the distress, theft, failure and the unbridgeable social rung of a ladder turned into curse of caste, tell me the new untouchables, the French who are dying in the street for a moment fell, talk to me of the guy who missed three boxes and ends up sleeping in his car, because I planted the chick on a bad plan that ends up with two kids and alimony which never happens, because of my poor cuckold of missed, the con, my double.
What empathy for ours? Where is it? Zero, struggle for my life wolf, Memee dying, dying, soon I… And you inherit the wreckage, I spend indifferent, you dry the flooded towns, missed the psychiatric, drunk, stoned, my brother on methadone, I you close, I kill you dirty bum, I’ll pass on it, like this old, encalaminée in newspapers under the porch pissing vomit when Junks come.
You are what I can become and I hate you, the living dead on the bench, I do not look at you, I’m afraid of myself. Tell me about my people, tell me about the death of my people, tell me about this insane decadence, from what I see on my street. Cortex, tell me about the people you hate, cause me to your foreign mine.
I say this with shoulder scared to speak French in mainland China, in North Curé under islamosyndicale judiciary, in large Courtelinistan East in Kafkaland, Vrounze in red, and green flag again without return of tolerance, freedom not to think, and seizure arrest on dissent.
Like all here, I have nothing to shake, no arms, of this parasite to tailless fish mouth camel rot abyssal black smokers, before it occurs out of the cold chain, which seeks notoriety down, his mother would have expanded in a shithole turquiforme following a prolapse smoky that our world would not have another aspect, northern lights and flower girls included.
But faced with so much ugliness useless my anger overflows. By cons, and all hatred, our people are dying, our people die, it is colonized. He is the worst breed of muddy depths of the dregs of the slums of bastards the end of the cul fifteenth circle of hell, and fools hate goitrous uneducated, idiots …. calcified.
By a horrible plot we have become the botched vagina fuck the world rotten, the receptacle of all the juice herpes pus exotic, a human shit is spawned on this satellite is the devil it is for our poor mouth, it fails in our garden.
Revolt: National Revolution! Treason! To arms! Your children will die, it’s that easy! And two months in jail for these words required by the prosecution, will pan in the mouth, shut up!
Democracy requires my cuckold! They kill us, we catch, do not you see? Are we subhuman? We train in the junk, the junk you see? There she is, this bitch mad, that bitch city, before us, we splutter of ass in the face, what to do? Do you believe that we will build a nation with such dogs? What does this fucking racist? The war? Why not. My ancestors, they would on a hook to fish for shark and the case would have been washed.
Dog, dead dog, suicide, fatal that floats in the bathtub acid, dead in the pool, washed with black horizon, tomorrow ? Ask yourself tomorrow. You think you get out, bourgeois? Weigh the weight of your ass you will reap not a ruble. The exponential decay of your minority ass you bourrera the Xénocortex you’ll dekulakize.
Cholera sue you, beri-beri and vomit born *gro, yellow fever and ebola coca cola, run faster than your ass on a sledge to Meuhgève. Your saliva without agony, devoured pipe is called demography, motherfuckers baby boom, Sicilian Mafia Fourth Reich of the Vem Pourriblique, Weimar sur Seine, the crazy twisted, collapsed under the immense flight of locusts polygamous and a flood sticky from the south in flames.
Babylon bursts, burst! My Country Flame, burning!
Northern lights and flower girls included! Neighbors—I rest my case.