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PIGs without Shame
A Story of a Paleface with No Name
© 2020 James LaFond
JUN/2/20
6/1/20
I was sitting with Banjo the day after our sparring and he made an insightful proposition, that the deaths of men like Freddie Grey and Floyd of the kneeling neck, both of whom were slain by sadistic PIGs, have been selected for the race war poster-children they have become, for the very reason that these are not clear cut race killings.
I personally think that all 7 cops involved should be executed for their crimes.
That said, as Banjo pointed out, these were, “force as usual situations” which only came to light because the victims were members of the race we pale Americans were raised to worship and place on a pedestal. My parents actually taught me that the martyr race were better than I by far, better than me morally, socially, athletically and that I owed them a debt for something I must have done as a nefarious baby in the womb of some earlier mother…
Much was made of Freddie Grey being beaten up by 3 ebony and 3 ivory cops as a race crime, and then thrown in the back of the paddy wagon unsecured. Well, of all of the white men I know who were beaten up and arrested by cops in Baltimore City, none of them were secured. Indeed, when Luther was tossed into the wagon, that cop ran over median strips, up on curbs and did exaggerated accelerations all in an effort to bang him up as Luther screamed at him and threatened him as he bounced off the metal walls and floor. No one would ever mistake red-headed, Irish Luther Watts as a Bantu.
Indeed, two weeks ago, I saw a video of an NYPD officer—a mixed race man, kneeling on the head of a much smaller brown man, and nothing was made of it because it lacked the racial element.
The point is, that for maximum racial rage and social division, one must bring up a situation that could be seen as a racial attack by police on one hand, but as a PIG doing what a PIG does to everybody—being a bully—on the other hand. My friend Kelly was raped by three cops while her brother was tortured by these same three cops in the other room in Baltimore County in the late 1970s. Kelly was 14. Her and her brother are snow white micks. My friend Ricky Mason was beaten up by the cops three times and both of his brothers killed by the PIGs and no deal was made of it, because they were white guys in Baltimore, and the cops love fucking up white guys, like when the BPD PIGs beat up Big Ron when he was still Little Ron on the sidewalk for, well, being on the sidewalk!
So, for Banjo’s theory to be validated let’s look at an attack that happened about the time Freddie Grey was killed. A big, white bum was living on a rocky hillside outside of Albuquerque, New Mexico. I recalled seeing this on video and remembered it less clearly than he did, who was living in the Southwest at the time.
The PIGs gave the bum an order to leave and he started cleaning his stuff up and then they hit him with a flashbang grenade, which sent him reaching for his knife, which gave them the excuse to shot him with an assault rifle, then hit him with a bean bag gun, then sick a dog on him as he died.
No one other than a cowardly PIG could possibly look at this video and think it was justified.
Therefore, it was not placed before the public, because all of us would agree that this was a heinous crime.
The only cops useful in using their brutality against us to incite race war is the ghost cop who kills the dark man while doing the same thing he does to every kind of man, beat his ass, kneel on him and toss him in a vehicle.
In this way the idiot, sissy Left cry “foul.”
Likewise, in this way, the idiot, cucked Right calls “fair.”
In this way, the herd begs the Bad Shepherd to get rid of his over eager sheepdog in favor, of a bigger, meaner, leaner war dog—who could not possibly be a danger to the bleating sheep.
And who was the bum with no name?
We don’t even know, because there was no police shame associated with his extermination.
And a majority of the fools in this nation beg for a more efficient force of goons to bully them on behalf of the screeching harpies that lead us to a well-deserved ruin.
Thanks, Banjo—run to the hills bro!
This shit city gig is about up.
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