It’s late. The world outside is quiet, but in here, in the cheap, rented space behind my own eyes, the goddamn war is still raging. You’re asking me to explain the sickness, to draw a map of the battlefield. The first thing you have to understand is that this isn’t a new war. It’s an old one. But one side has gotten a hell of a lot better at hiding its goddamn uniform.
You want to understand the modern Left, the Democrats, the who
le progressive shitshow? You have to understand that their greatest, most brilliant, and most diabolical achievement was a heist. They didn’t just steal an election; they stole a whole goddamn history. They stole the narrative. And they did it so perfectly, so completely, that they’ve managed to convince half the country that the arsonists are the goddamn fire department.
Let’s talk about the facts, the real, ugly, and beautiful numbers they don’t teach you in their ivy-covered re-education camps. Let’s talk about the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the great holy scripture of their modern religion. You know who voted for that? A higher percentage of Republicans than Democrats. Eighty-two percent of the Republicans in the Senate voted for it. Only sixty-nine percent of the Democrats did. Same thing with the Civil Rights Act of 1960. The party of Lincoln, the man who actually freed the goddamn slaves, was the one pushing for it.
And who was on the other side? Who was standing in the schoolhouse door? The Democrats. The Dixiecrats. The party of segregation, the party of Jim Crow, the party that gave birth to the Ku Klux Klan. You go back and look at the history of the Klan in a place like Oregon. It wasn’t a bunch of right-wing wackos in the woods; it was the goddamn Democratic political establishment.
That’s their original sin. That’s the ugly, inconvenient, and completely undeniable truth that they had to bury. And how do you bury a corpse that big? You don’t. You just find another body, put your clothes on it, and tell everyone that’s you. You perform a historical switcheroo. A grand, beautiful, and completely dishonest act of projection.
They took all their own shit—their history of racism, of oppression, of segregation—and they scraped it off their boots and smeared it all over the other guy. And they did it so well, with such a beautiful, relentless, and completely shameless marketing campaign, that now, the party of Lincoln is the party of racists, and the party of the Klan is the party of social justice. It’s a work of goddamn genius.
And they had help, of course. They had the media, the universities, the whole goddamn propaganda machine on their side. They started changing the words. “Racism” stopped being about what was in your heart, about a real, honest-to-God hatred for another man because of his skin. It became a “system.” An invisible, all-powerful boogeyman that was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. And who was in charge of this system? White people, of course. All of them. Original sin, passed down through the blood.
And don’t tell me about Martin Luther King Jr. They’ve tried to turn him into their own private saint, a gentle, harmless mascot for their revolution. The man was a giant. But he wasn’t one of them. He was a registered Republican, a man who believed in the content of a man’s character, not the color of his skin. That’s a goddamn heresy in their new church.
You want to know who really saw them coming? Malcolm X. He was no friend of the white man, but he was an honest man. And he warned us. He said the white liberal was more dangerous than the white conservative. He said the conservative at least shows you his teeth, so you know who the wolf is. The liberal, he said, he smiles at you, he pretends to be your friend, all while he’s sharpening the knife behind his back. He called them the fox. And he was right.
So how do they do it? How do they keep the whole rotten, beautiful, fucked-up show on the road?
They do it by keeping you divided. They do it by feeding you a constant diet of fear and resentment. And they do it by creating a permanent victim class that is completely dependent on their goodwill.
You look at the black community. The Democrats have been in charge of their cities for fifty years. And what’s the result? Ruin. Generational poverty. A culture of violence and despair. You think that’s an accident? No. That’s the plan.
They took the father out of the home. Not with a gun, but with a welfare check. A beautiful, simple, and completely diabolical piece of social engineering. The government became the new plantation owner, and the welfare check was the new massa’s handout.
And then, when the cities started to burn, what did they do? They passed a crime bill. Bill Clinton, their white knight, he’s the one who locked up a generation of black men. And now they have the balls to blame it on the Republicans. It’s a beautiful thing to watch, in a sick, ugly sort of way.
And the abortion clinics. You think it’s a coincidence that they’re all lined up in black neighborhoods? You go listen to a man like Thomas Sowell. He’ll tell you the truth. More black babies are aborted in New York City than are born. That’s not healthcare. That’s a quiet, clean, and completely efficient genocide.
And the ones who survive, they’re raised in a culture that’s been deliberately poisoned. The rap music that glorifies violence and misogyny, the gang culture that turns their neighborhoods into warzones… you think that’s an accident? No. That’s the soundtrack to their own quiet, managed decline.
The Republican message, for all its flaws, for all its harsh, “pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps” bullshit, it’s a message of agency. It says, “You are a man. You are responsible for your own life. Now go out there and fight.”
The Democratic message? It’s the soft bigotry of low expectations. It says, “You are a victim. You are helpless. The world is against you. But don’t worry. We’ll take care of you. Just stay on the plantation, and we’ll make sure you get your rations.” It’s a message that castrates a man’s soul.
And why do people fall for it? Why aren’t they seeing the far left for what it is: the new communism, a quiet, comfortable, and completely soul-crushing totalitarianism?
Because it’s a better marketing campaign. The old communism, it came with jackboots and gulags. It was an ugly, honest kind of tyranny. This new kind, it comes with a smile, and a pronoun, and a corporate logo. It doesn’t kick in your door; it just gets you fired for telling a bad joke. It doesn’t put you in a re-education camp; it just re-educates your kids in the public schools. It’s a softer, gentler, and a hell of a lot more effective brand of control.
And the people, they’re just… tired. They’re fat, and they’re comfortable, and they’re scared. They’re scared of losing their jobs, their friends, their place in the quiet, respectable herd. It’s easier to just go along with the madness than it is to stand up and say, “This is bullshit.”
And what about the ones who should know better? Hitler didn’t kill anybody, not with his own two hands. His followers did. The good, decent, and completely cowardly people who just stood by and said, “Well, I’m not a part of that decision.” Yes, you are. Your silence is your vote.
And my friend, the one on the other side of the fire, his silence is his vote. He might not be out there, throwing bricks and screaming at the sky. But he’s on the team. He’s in the stands, wearing the jersey, and he’s cheering for a side that’s gone completely, beautifully, and terrifyingly insane. He’s loading the goddamn gun, and then he has the audacity to act surprised when it goes off.
That’s the sickness. The quiet, polite, and completely soul-crushing cowardice of a man who has outsourced the hard, ugly, and completely necessary work of having his own goddamn thoughts to a committee of angry, blue-haired children who think that history started in 2016.
And you, you’re just a man sitting in the middle of it all, watching the whole goddamn circus go up in flames, and you’re the only one who seems to notice that the clowns are the ones holding the matches.
You’re not crazy. You’re just sober at a drunk party. And in a world that’s gone mad, that’s the loneliest, ugliest, and most beautiful goddamn place to be.
Autur’s Note:
