STOP THE PRESSES #5

You asked for it, you got it!
Here’s my latest hard-boiled homage to the tough-guy reporters of yesteryear – Walter Winchell and Jimmy Cannon.

Supreme Court cutie Ruth Bader Ginsberg crowed many times that her Jewishness shaped her judicial outlook . . . Not the Bill of Rights, the Torah . . . Not the Federalist Papers, the Talmud . . . Not the Constitution, the Kaballah . . . So I guess it was her Jewishness that made Ruthie promote lowering the age of sexual consent to twelve . . . TWELVE . . . TWELVE!!!! . . .

R.I.P. RBG

Decomposing corpse.
The last known living photo of Judge Ginsberg.

Here’s a definition of chutzpah: Ginsberg, the champion of affirmative action, hired only one Black law clerk during her forty year judicial career. FORTY YEARS. ONE BLACK . . . She claimed she couldn’t find any more who were qualified . . . I call that “affirmative action for thee but not for me” . . . The Noxious RBG spent her last four years on the bench in a coma with her law clerks propping her up like the eponymous hero of the movie Weekend at Bernie’s . . .

Poster for Weekend at Bernie's
That’s our gal Ruthie in the middle.

Had Ruthie not been so high-on-her-own-supply and convinced she was the “indispensable” woman, she would/could have retired when Obama was President thus assuring that someone equally toxic would have taken her place . . . Funny how karma bites even the most high and mighty on their high and mighty asses, ain’t it . . . But, waaaaiiittt a minute here, Ruth Bader Ginsberg said that the Black football players in the NFL (Negro Felon League) were “stupid and disrespectful” for kneeling during the national anthem. That’s not nice . . .

Colin Kapernick kneeling.
Yo, Colin, my man, the ‘fro, can we talk?

Saint Ruthie wasn’t the only extreme libtard with “surprising” views on race and sex . . . Che Guevera (the Left’s favorite pin-up) said, “Mexicans are a band of illiterate Indians” and “The black is indolent and a dreamer; spending his meagre wage on frivolity or drink.” . . .

Che poster in red.

Che (the most reproduced face in history aside from Christ) was no friend of the LGBTQ crowd. In fact, he called homosexuals “scum” and put them in concentration camps where they labored beneath a sign that wittily proclaimed, “Work will make you men.” . . . Some say that sort of anti-gay vitriol only comes from a closet queen. Hmmmnnnn . . .

Che Guevera dead.
Che doing his famous impersonation of Ruth Bader Ginsberg.

Speaking of the “lavender lads” – it’s being whispered in the corridors of power that Chief Justice John Roberts is “light in the loafers” and is being blackmailed by a certain tribe of rootless-cosmopolitans? . . . This explains his lurch to the Left . . .

Justice John Roberts and wife.
Roberts and his long-suffering beard, er… I mean, wife.

Not possible? Welp, the Mafia blackmailed and deballed the famous “crime buster” of the 1950s Sen. Estes Kefauver with pix of his pussy-hound ways . . .

Sen. Estes Kefauver
The Senator’s coonskin cap drove the gals plum crazy. Or, maybe they thought they were fucking Fess Parker.

Yup, Ol’ Estes made JFK look like a choirboy . . . As long as we’re talkin’ about choirboys . . .

Joel Osteen
Joel Osteen runs a mega-church in Dallas. He is the most popular televangelist in America.

This squeaky-clean holy-huckster isn’t preaching the Gospel. He’s just sprinkling a bit of Jesus over Napoleon Hill’s classic self-help book Think and Grow Rich . . . Hey, how come we let immigrants with tuberculosis, polio and even plague flood into our countries but if your dog isn’t vaccinated you’re in big trouble? . . . John Fogerty of Creedence Clearwater Revival had never been to Louisiana or even seen the Mississippi River before he wrote Proud Mary and other songs about the Bayou . . . In pre-WW2 Hollywood, actors were blacklisted for not being commies . . . Ronald Reagan’s film career tanked when “liberal” Hollywood blacklisted him for daring to clean the commies out of the Screen Actors Guild while he was union president . . . Morons who mock Reagan’s acting have never seen King’s Row, Juke Girl or Storm Warning . . .

Ronald Reagan and Bonzo the Chimp.
This scribe is no fan of chimp comedies but Ronnie was better with a chimp co-star in Bedtime for Bonzo than Cary Grant was in Monkey Business.

As long as were discussing simians in the cinema – George Floyd fucked-on-film in porn movies . . . This just in – evidence has emerged (seen by your reporter) that Georgie Boy Floyd was a longtime police informant (snitch) – that’s considered the lowest form of life in the ‘hood. . . Meanwhile, Floyd’s fellow-felon Jacob Blake whose shooting caused all the kerfuffle in Kenosha, Wisconsin had a habit of raping women including his baby-mama. He raped her while her young daughter was in the bed next to her. The insistent dusky Casanova forced his fingers into his beloved’s vagina, smelled them and opined, “It smells like you bins wit udder mens.” . . . His baby-mama tearfully testified to this and, ya know, we gotta believe the woman . . . She called the cops to arrest Blake. He attacked the cops, was shot while reaching for a weapon and was left paralyzed from the waist down . . . Mayhaps the unfortunate Blake’s sexual activity will be restricted to digital insertion (hopefully consensual) for the foreseeable . . .

Lorez Alexandria.
Jazz singer Lorez Alexandria was as good as any of ‘em and better than most.

But unlucky Lorez never had that all-important hit record so she never got the bookings and acclaim she deserved . . . One dame who got nothing but undeserved acclaim was Margaret Mead the most famous woman in Cultural Anthropology . . .

Margaret Mead with Samoan girls.
Here’s Maggie getting fashion tips from the locals. ‘Scuse me but isn’t that what’s called “cultural appropriation?”

Maggie was hoaxed by the South Sea island teens when she wrote her famous pro-Brown, anti-White study Coming of Age in Samoa . . . Turns out their society was actually very straight-laced and violent – not at all the peaceful, sexual paradise the dim-witted Mead portrayed . . .

Original book cover of Coming of Age in Samoa.
Cultural Bullshit

Mead was a student of the Jewish-Marxist Franz Boas. He invented the pseudo-science of Cultural-Anthropology which holds that a Bantu banging on a tree trunk in the jungle is of equal artistic value to the work of Bach . . .

Franz Boas
Franz Boas demonstrating how he squats to pee.

Guess what? Franny’s famous skull measurement studies which supposedly proved racial equality have been exposed as totally bogus . . . Boas cooked the books to push his anti-White Marxist crap . . . He was as crooked as that other fraud Sigmund Freud . . . Meanwhile, I’m scratchin’ my noggin’ over why people who have never owned slaves should pay slavery reparations to people who have never been slaves . . . Heard on the Rialto and Rodeo Drive: Meghan Markle is the most pretentious, presumptuous twat in public life and has already worn out her welcome stateside . . .

The young Meghan Markle
The Woman Who Would Be Queen aka The Mulatto Greta Thunberg

Tell ya the truth, I’d sooner listen to political punditry from Scary Spice . . .  Fred Astaire failed an early Hollywood screen test with this critique, “Can’t act. Can’t sing. Slightly bald. Can dance a little.” . . .

Fred Astaire in flight.

Here’s another showbiz “ouch” – Broadway producer Cheryl Crawford turned down Arthur Miller’s great play Death of a Salesman with this note, “Who wants to see a play about a traveling salesman?” . . . So explain to me why the same loons who say there is no such thing as gender are screeching that there must be a female President . . . Here’s some good news – the future belongs to the fertile. The gender-liquid brigade, the cis-phobic snowflakes and other assorted psycho-sexual misfits aren’t reproducing . . . Wanna know who is breeding? Mormons, Amish, Hasids, Muslims and Evangelical Christians. Looks like the future belongs to the fundamentalists, too . . .

Horace the Poet
The Roman poet Horace predicted this state of affairs with – “You can chase Mother Nature out with a pitchfork but she will always return.”

Bust of Epictetus
Epictetus, another Roman smarty-pants, cautioned people in the first century not to talk about themselves at dinner parties. The first century!!!

Winston Churchill, Dwight Eisenhower and Charles de Gaulle each wrote multi-volume histories of WW2 . . . These three wartime titans devoted about a paragraph each to European Jewry with no mention of gas chambers . . . Betcha didn’t know this – the British almost dropped the atomic bombs on Japan using their Lancaster bombers coz America’s B-29s were too small . . . Elvis Presley “The King” died on the “throne” whilst straining at stool . . . But even in the worst of Presley’s stupid movies there is at least one good tune . . . Barbara Streisand wanted Elvis to co-star with her in A Star Is Born but after one meeting with Babs, The King took a pasadena . . . Who sez Elvis was a dumb hillbilly? . . . 

Elvis Presley in his coffin.
Elvis doing his famous impersonation of Ruth Bader Ginsberg.

Laurence Olivier almost played the Marlon Brando role in The Godfather . . . Robert Redford almost played the Dustin Hoffman role in The Graduate . . . Jackie Gleason almost played the Gene Hackman role in The French Connection . . . If you think Jackie would have been a weird choice then you obviously haven’t seen him in Requiem for a Heavyweight and The Hustler . . . “The Great One” was a great actor . . . Mary Baker Eddy, the deranged founder of Christian Science, insisted her flock eschew doctors and medicine coz the body and pain didn’t exist; only spirit was real and flesh was an illusion . . . But this holy-hypocrite secretly visited dentists where she insisted on massive doses of pain killers . . .

The young Mary Baker Eddy.
Mary Baker Eddy – 19th Century Bunny Boiler.

Surprisingly, the arch-cynic Mark Twain flirted with Christian Science then came to his senses and wrote a hilarious critique of the cult . . . For many decades, the Twain book was as rare-as-rocking-horse-shit coz Christian Scientists (on orders from the paranoid Mary Baker Eddy) found and destroyed copies . . .

Julius and Ethel Rosenberg under arrest.
The Jewish Communist traitors Julius and Ethel Rosenberg were guilty as hell of giving atomic secrets to Joseph Stalin

Uncle Joe was the second greatest mass murderer of the 20th century second only to that other commie-creep – Mao Zedong . . . Your correspondent laughs and cheers when he imagines the repulsive Julius and Ethel frying in the electric chair at Sing-Sing . . . To his everlasting credit, Judge Kaufman (the Rosenberg’s co-religionist) who presided at their trial blamed them for the deaths of 38,000 American soldiers in Korea . . . That war only happened coz Stalin was emboldened by the nuclear weapons he had acquired thanks to the secrets the Rosenberg scum had given him . . . Another of the Rosenberg’s co-religionists – Congressman Samuel Dickstein actually took money from Stalin to betray America . . . And still they kvetch when people question their loyalty . . .

Julius and Ethel Rosenberg in their coffins.
The Rosenbergs doing their famous impression of Ruth Bader Ginsberg.

Since Lockdown more Brits have died from flu and pneumonia than from Covid-19 and that’s even accepting the massively exaggerated Covid death totals . . . On the other side of the pond, the New York Times reported that the most widely used Covid-19 test in America is returning 90% false positives . . . Say, don’t call me daffy, this Corona-hoax gets more apparent and preposterous by the day . . .  

LEST WE FORGET

Sticky stool
Ruth Bader Ginsberg lying in state.

_________________________________

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio
Available as an eBook here and as a paperback and eBook from amazon.com and amazon.co.uk

STOP THE PRESSES! #4

Retro cartoon of an old time newspaper boy.
Here’s my latest hard-boiled homage to the tough-guy reporters of yesteryear – Walter Winchell and Jimmy Cannon.

Get this straight – George Floyd died of a fentanyl overdose while resisting arrest. Get over it . . . The ugliest thing on two legs is any dame with tattoos on those legs . . . Take this to the bank – Roosevelt and Churchill knew Pearl Harbor was coming and let it happen. Brave souls dared to say it was a set-up as the ships were still smouldering . . . One foreign spy even sent the US military his secret photos of the Japs’ table top model of their attack. Those pix were deliberately buried . . .

Day of Infamy by John Toland
Read it and weep.

FDR was such an invalid that his doctors let him work only four hours a day . . .  His own party wanted to dump him . . . The slimy Roosevelt clung on to power and spent most of his presidency convalescing on boat and train trips that were disguised as government business . . . Jimmy Byrnes of South Carolina was the real president . . .  

James Byrnes with wife and dog.
The president you never heard of, uh… the one on the right.
FDR in leg braces
A rare photo of FDR’s leg braces.

The memoirs and diaries of reporters and diplomats reveal how shocked they were when they first met FDR and saw how sick and weak he was . . . The press protected FDR as it later protected JFK – another very sick man who was presented to America as an athlete full of vigor . . .

JFK in back brace
Ironically, the back-brace JFK wore kept his back straight but also kept him upright in the limo and open to the fatal head shot.

Had JFK survived his assassination in Dallas, his underlying health problems would have killed him during his second term . . . JFK was a notorious “Wham, bam, thank ya mam” Romeo. The amphetemine shots he got from a notorious “Dr. Feelgood” made him super horny and super fast . . .

Angie Dickinson.
Angie Dickinson fucked JFK and quipped, “It was the most exciting ninety seconds of my life.”

Speaking of speed – Fast One by Paul Cain is one of the all-time great hard-boiled crime novels . . . It was written in 1932 but makes tough-guy tomes written decades later read like sissy-stuff . . .

Poster of the film The Black Cat
Cain also wrote the screenplay for the underrated Karloff-Lugosi horror film The Black Cat
Boris Karloff in The Black Cat.
Karloff’s character in The Black Cat was based on the English Satanist Aleister Crowley.

Take this to the bank – Prohibition worked. It vastly reduced alcoholism and deaths from drunk driving . . . The movies and documentaries you’ve seen mocking Prohibition were made by people who had skin in the liquor racket . . . Algonquin Roundtable wits Dorothy Parker and Robert Benchley shared a subscription to a funeral industry magazine . . .

Cartoon of Dorothy Parker and Robert Benchley
The morbid duo washed with the same soap that morticians use on corpses

As long as we’re on the subject of soap – the holocaust mongers no longer claim the Germans turned Jews into soap. They’ve dropped that hooey about Jews being made into lampshades, too . . . It was a braver man than I who ate the first oyster . . .

Vintage ad for skin lightener
Many African-American millionaires made their fortunes selling skin lightener and hair straightener.
Madame CJ Walker
Yeah but they don’t tell you how the bitch made her millions.

Blacks, Asians and Orientals still punish their bodies in a hopeless attempt to look White. Don’t believe me? Check out the ads in the back of their magazines . . . Your reporter thinks they should stop this mutilation . . . Attila the Hun was very short but Napoleon was of average height . . . Sigmund Freud was a complete and conscious fraud . . . Siggie was also a dreadful GP and a lethal surgeon . . . He dredged his toxic theories up out of his personal sexual sewer and simply stole and invented the rest . . . Freud, who was Jewish, wrote to friends that he needed neurotic middle-class Jewish women as patients since they were not really ill and would never get well . . .

Sigmund Freud by Frederick Crews
What Freud said that was true wasn’t new and what he said that was new wasn’t true.

These days no self-respecting shrink uses Freudianism which is now considered the phrenology of the 20th century . . .  

Phrenological head

Today’s savvy shrinks look at the family photos of their patients coz all the pain and problems are on full display . . . Sound wacky? Visit the Freud Museum in London and cast your eyes over the Freud family album. It’s bleedin’ obvious that Freud was a sadistic creep . . .

Young Joseph Smith the Mormon prophet.
The Mormon Prophet Joseph Smith was another conscious fraud. But he came to believe his own hokum and became the most fascinating figure in American religious history

Shortly before his assassination in 1844, Smith spoke as one who knew he was about to die. He gazed into eternity and preached profound and terrifying truths about the nature of God and man . . .

George Fox founder of the Quakers
George Fox who founded the Quakers in the 1600s taught that there were men on the moon.
Quaker Oats box
Joseph Smith who founded Mormonism in the 1830s agreed that there were men on the moon but they looked like Quakers!

Sorry to go against the grain but I’ve never joined the cheerleading for The Great Gatsby . . . Give me Fitzgerald’s essays about the Roaring ’20s. They are masterpieces . . . Even better is Appointment in Samarra written by Fitzgeralds’s close friend John O’Hara . . .

Cover of Appointment in Samarra by John O'Hara
The Great American novel? Maybe.

After Barry Goldwater’s landslide defeat to Johnson in 1964 and when the Republican Party was at its lowest point in history, John O’Hara boldly predicted a Republican victory in 1968 . . . This newshound knows that when the mainstream media ridicules someone that someone is worth a second look . . . Take another gander at Silvio Berlusconi. He was the only leader to oppose the removal of Gaddafi and predicted that the fall of Libya would produce a flood of migrants from Africa into Europe . . .

Silvio Berlusconi
Now, ask yourself – who mocked Silvio and why?

I’ve never made it all the way through Some Like It Hot . . .  Say, don’t call me daffy – if Boris Johnson wanted to, he could stop the invasion of rapeugees into England via the Channel in a heartbeat . . . Wes Montgomery was a great jazz guitarist but I’ll take Kenny Burrell . . .

Kenny Burrell
Great guitarist. Great musician. Great teacher. The bum can sing, too!

If it weren’t for White fans both jazz and blues would have died decades ago . . . On the last day of his presidency Bill Clinton (acting against the advice of his aides) pardoned the Jewish criminal Mark Rich and the Jewish terrorist Susan Rosenberg . . .

Susan Rosenberg terrorist and BLM leader.
Call me old fashioned but I’ll take Angie Dickinson over this Hebraic hag any day.

Meanwhile – the more things change the more they remain the same . . .

The Jews behind the NAACP

Legend has it that L. Ron Hubbard founded the Church of Scientology on a bet with other sci-fi writers . . . Sssshhh, it’s an open secret that one of the top sci-fi writers lived for years on his own tropical island where he indulged his taste for young boys . . . The African country of Liberia was founded in 1822 under President James Monroe . . .

Monrovia, Liberia
That’s why Liberia’s lovely capital is named Monrovia.

Liberia was to be a haven and fresh start for freed American slaves . . . The first thing those freed slaves did when they got back home to Africa was get slaves . . . Meanwhile, on the other side of Africa . . .

Somali man with bloody head.
Somalis have the lowest IQs on earth aside from Australian aborigines.

Try this on for size – Minnesota has more Somalis than anywhere on earth aside from Somalia.

Burning store in Minneapolis during BLM riots.
What could possibly go wrong?
Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio
Available as an eBook here and as a paperback and ebook from amazon.com and amazon.co.uk

STOP THE PRESSES! #3

vintage cartoon of newsboy
Here’s another hard-boiled homage to the two-fisted reporters of yesteryear – Walter Winchell and Jimmy Cannon.

Waaaiiittt a minute – first they told us to buy expensive masks with breathing valves coz simple masks wouldn’t stop Covid. Now they tell us to not buy masks with valves coz they spread the disease. Who’s in charge here? . . .  

Vintage deep sea diver
Coming soon – the “Anthony Fauci Signature Mask” guaranteed to cure what ails ya!

From its earliest days television was described as “chewing gum for the eyes” and “the idiot box” and “a vast wasteland.” All correct . . . My favorite description of TV is – “an electronic sewer-pipe in the corner of your living room.” Even the genteel NPR in the states and BBC in Britain are pumping genteel sewage into your brain. Turn ’em off . . .

Open sewer pipe
Pass me the remote, will ya? Uh… on second thought…

Hey, if masculinity is so “toxic” why do so many lesbians pretend to be male and dress like traditional grooms . . .

Black lesbian couple at marriage
“Do you take this man, uh, I mean pretend-man… oh, you figure it out.”

And why do they pretend to be super-butch males? Doesn’t that make them super-toxic? . . .

Butch lesbian on motor cycle

Hey, If masculinity is so “toxic” why would any woman want to “transition” to male? Answers on a postcard . . . Another question – If male to female transsexuals are returning their bodies to a “natural” state then why do they have to insert a dildo-like plastic tube into their manufactured vaginas for several hours a day to prevent their bodies from closing up and healing what it detects as an open bleeding wound? . . .

Vaginal dilators
The colors are a nice touch, no?

When bluegrass bands play heavy metal and Motown music, it’s better than the originals . . . Southern, White Christian males are the only group in the world that we are allowed and even encouraged to mock . . . When people wearing Corona-masks flinch away from me, I want to beat them to a bloody pulp . . . In the 1960s, U.S. police departments came under massive Marxist attack over supposed police brutality against Blacks. The anti-Communist John Birch Society ran the counter-campaign: “Support Your Local Police and Keep Them Independent.” It made them a laughing stock . . .

Poster for Support Your Local Police and keep them independent
I wonder how many Americans will laugh when their local police are defunded and replaced with a national Stasi?

Please explain this to me – The US & UK built many massive “Covid emergency centers” to handle the predicted overflow from hospitals. These facilities, boasting many thousands of beds, were unneeded and unused. They’ve been dismantled. But, hold up, from the beginning of the Covid-hoax we were warned of even deadlier second and third waves of the virus. If the powers-that-be actually believed this disaster was coming then why did they dismantle essential facilities mere months before Covid would return with a vengeance? . . . The big band leader Stan Kenton had an incestuous relationship with his daughter that lasted from her pre-teen years to young womanhood . . .

Stan Kenton and his daughter
She’s written a book claiming it wasn’t all bad. Hmmmnnn . . .

Is it me or are more female teachers banging their students these days? . . . British Prime Minister Boris Johnson is such a racial mongrel even he doesn’t know what he is . . . BoJo wants to import 3.5 million Chinese from Hong Kong at a time of unprecedented UK unemployment and economic crisis . . . Maybe our boy is Chinese, too? . . . How do the Chinese pay him off? . . .  

Boris Johnson and Chinese dragon
Take 3.5 million from Column A and 3.5 million from Column B.

The Empire State Building was a flop for decades and was dubbed The Empty State Building . . .  Even before Corona and the riots, I knew that Trumpowitz was gonna lose the election coz the demographics were against him in Florida, Arizona and Georgia. He had the right impulse about Corona i.e. let it burn through and develop herd immunity but then he listened to President Kushner and surrendered to the hysteria. Then he listened again to President Kushner and didn’t crack down on the riots immediately. He’s making a few tough tweets now but it’s too late. He’s gonna have no convention, no rallies and no second term . . .

Jared Kushner and Donald Trump
President Kushner keeping an eye on his puppet.

The spectacularly corrupt and stupid Biden will win but he will be a figurehead and so will his incompetent female Black VP whoever she is . . . America will be ruled by a cabal of Marxists with Obama pulling the strings . . . Bader-Ginsburg will resign with much fanfare and spike the football on her way out. The Marxists will get to appoint at least two other justices. Then they will  abolish the electoral college, open the borders, open the prisons, pass amnesty and bankrupt the country . . . When Trumpstein appeared, I said that he wasn’t important but what he represented and who came after him were. I also said that he would fail but that his failure would be useful. It would set the stage for a genuine White Nationalist leader to emerge. This coming leader who is yet unknown will operate outside of electoral politics. He will be a strongman in the mold of Caesar or Franco . . .

Francisco Franco
Barring his arrival, Whites in America will be lucky to be living in something akin to South Africa. The situation in Europe and the UK is equally bleak.

During the Spanish Civil War in the 1930s more Communists were killed by other Communists than by Franco’s forces . . . Stalin saw that war as a chance to finally clean out the Trotskyites . . . The Gospel Quartets and Quintets of the 1940s and 50s were pure rock & roll, doo-wop and soul. Listen to the Swan Silvertones and the Soul Stirrers and you’ll hear it . . .

The Swan Silvertones
Claude Jeter of the Silvertones was The Man!
Kenny Hinson
Meanwhile, White gospel singer Kenny Hinson could have been a massive country music star if he’d wanted to be.  He had one of the great voices in American music!

I’ve never bought any music by The Beatles or Bob Dylan . . . Cardinal Spellman of New York was called the American Pope. He was also a predatory homosexual who cruised gay bars in Gotham accompanied by famous homos of the theater. These lavender lads all favored young Black meat . . . The Cardinal was also a rabid hawk. It’s said he spent more time on his knees in Viet Nam servicing GIs than praying . . .

Francis Cardinal Spellman
Franny Spellman in full drag. Say a prayer for the altar boys!

Tony Blair’s Labour Party promoted 24/7 drinking in pubs and widespread gambling so I guess it really did care about the health and welfare of the White working class; or was it that Blair took money from scumbags who made their fortunes by selling gambling, alcohol and tobacco to the White working class? . . . Hookers will tell you that often their johns just want to talk about their wives and children . . . The Arabic word for African is “slave” . . . Millions more Africans were enslaved by Muslim countries than by the Christian world . . .

African slave castrated by Muslims
Muslims chopped off the penis and testicles of their African slaves.

Saudi Arabia didn’t outlaw slavery until 1962 . . .  Millions more Africans were enslaved by Brazil than by the USA . . .  Brazil didn’t outlaw slavery until decades after the USA did . . . Most of the slave ships and slave markets were owned and run by Jews . . . How come Black Lives Matter isn’t protesting outside Brazilian, Israeli and Islamic embassies? . . . My favorite true-crime cases are Lizzie Borden, Sam Sheppard and Jeffrey MacDonald . . .

Lizzie Borden
Lizzie was guilty as hell. The murder house is now a B & B.
Dr. Sam Sheppard
Dr. Sam was innocent. The poor bastard ended up as a pro-wrestler.
Jeffrey MacDonald
The jury is still out on MacDonald who is rotting in prison. The film maker Errol Morris is convinced MacDonald is innocent. You decide.

The father of singer Harry Connick, Jr. was a New Orleans D.A. accused of covering up the JFK assassination . . . The father of actor Woody Harrelson was a Texas hitman who many believe was one of the mysterious “Three Tramps” arrested behind the Grassy Knoll on the day JFK was hit . . .

The "Three Tramps" on the Grassy Knoll
“Daddy, is that you?”

Abraham Lincoln opposed expanding slavery into the West not because he was opposed to slavery but because he was opposed to spreading Blacks further into America . . .  

Cartoon of Abe Lincoln with a slave
Not so honest Abe didn’t free the slaves in the North.

Lincoln’s last meeting in The White House was with Black leaders to decide how and where to repatriate or resettle the freed slaves – Africa, South America and part of Texas were considered . . .

John Wilkes Booth shooting Abraham Lincoln
If only John Wilkes Booth had missed!
Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio
Available as an ebook here and as an eBook and paperback from amazon.com and amazon.co.uk

STOP THE PRESSES! #2

Vintage cartoon of newspaper boy
Here’s another hard-boiled homage to the two-fisted reporters of yesteryear – Walter Winchell and Jimmy Cannon.

The White liberals who cry and march for George Floyd would shit their pants and call the cops if he came near them . . . Abbott’s Frozen Custard in Rochester, N.Y. is the best in the universe – end of story . . . Margaret Sanger, the unhinged founder of Planned Parenthood, attended seances to contact the dead children she had abandoned . . .

Margaret Sanger as a young woman
Maggie was an unfaithful wife, a lethal mother and a Rosicrucian.

Is there a more annoying song than Hey Jude? . . . Whites are fleeing US cities at a record clip. So desperate are they to escape the coming race war that they are buying houses in rural America sight-unseen . . .

Black woman twerking in BLM riots
And people wonder why they flee.

The electric vibrator was invented to save the wrists and fingers of 19th century psychiatrists who spent much of their time masturbating neurotic, middle-class women to calm them down . . .

19th century vibrator

The straightjacket was used to prevent the insane from masturbating themselves bloody . . . The Kellogg Brothers were 7th Day Adventist fanatics who invented cold cereal as an anti-masturbation food . . .

Vintage Smith Brothers cough drops box.
God knows what these kinky bastards were up to!

If the Chinese ever get the whip hand in America the Blacks will scream, “Come back, Whitey. All is forgiven!” . . .  Other Orientals call the Chinese, “The Jews of the Orient” . . . Next time you’re in New York avoid Little Italy; there are no Italians left and the food is poison . . . But visit the nearby Tenement Museum to experience the “White privilege” enjoyed by European immigrants . . .  Mickey Mantle, the great Yankee ballplayer, dropped out of the 1961 home run race with Roger Maris coz he got an infection from a botched VD injection . . .

Mickey Mantle batting right.
“The Mick” bragged that he led the league every year in the clap.

Mickey got his clap shots from the same “Dr. Feelgood” who injected JFK, Nixon and most of Hollywood and Washington. We still don’t know what the good doctor was putting in his “vitamin” shots . . . Question: Does anyone actually read Toni Morrison or Maya Angelou? . . .

Phil Silvers and the Bilko platoon.
Many episodes of the classic sitcom Bilko were written by Neil Simon.

They were filmed in an old open-air silent film studio on a Bronx rooftop that had been enclosed for TV use . . .

Bettie Page
The iconic 1950s pin-up Bettie Page appeared on Bilko.

I never liked or believed Burt Lancaster, Kirk Douglas or Rock Hudson . . . Lancaster was in Harvey Weinstein’s league as a sexual predator . . . The Broadway composer Richard Rodgers was another notorious sex creep . . .

Richard Rodgers
If you didn’t fuck Mr. Rodgers you didn’t get into one of his squeaky clean musicals.

In the early 20th century, Atlanta was the center of silent film production. Then the Jewish movie moguls fled to the West Coast to avoid paying patent money to the gentile Thomas Edison . . . I don’t care what vegans say, there’s nuthin’ better in life than a rare prime rib with a baked potato and salad . . . Lucca and Gubbio are my favorite Italian towns. And, you can give me Siena over Florence every time . . . How can it make sense to social distance getting on and off a plane but sit cheek by jowl on the flight? Youth wants to know . . . George Floyd did five years for holding a gun to a pregnant Black woman’s stomach while his partners in crime stole everything she had . . . When’s the last time you saw a man smoking a pipe? . . .

Breakfast at Ruth's Diner in Salt Lake City.
Do yourself a favor and have breakfast at Ruth’s Diner in Salt Lake City.

Laurence Olivier’s Richard the Third is so good it hurts. He based his villainous make-up on the vile Broadway producer Jed Harris and the Big Bad Wolf . . .

The Big Bad Wolf
The vile Jed Harris.
Jed Harris
The Big Bad Wolf
Laurence Olivier as Richard the Third
See what I mean?

Ya think Rush Limbaugh will grow a pair before he dies and tell the truth about Jewish power and influence in America? . . . The great “commie-killer” Senator Joseph McCarthy is the most vilified and lied about figure in American history. He was rough but he was right. And the decrypted Cold War messages sent from the Soviet Union to its Washington embassy prove how right he was . . .

Sen. Joseph McCarthy with anti-McCarthyism headline
McCarthy’s friends John and Robert Kennedy served on his anti-communist committees.

Be-bop sucks and Charlie Parker is the most over-rated figure in American popular music . . . Tell me something, why do so many doctors wear bow ties? . . .

Luna Park, Coney Island at night
Coney Island circa 1900 – 1960 was even better then you can imagine. Forced integration and race riots killed it

Read Bruce Jay Friedman! He’s a darker Woody Allen and a funnier Philip Roth. He’ll make ya laugh and wince at the same time . . .  Dames with spaces between their front teeth are instantly endearing . . . Women shouldn’t be cops, firemen or soldiers and men who serve must meet stricter height and fitness requirements . . . The Antifa-BLM riots revealed how out of shape our police and National Guard have become . . .

Policemen wearing red high heels
Here’s that militarized police you’ve been hearing about!

Most of the Old Testament stories including Adam and Eve and Noah and the Ark were stolen from the Egyptians and Assyrians then cut and pasted together . . . The chief Biblical redactor was a female scribe in the court of King David . . . With any luck I’ll go to my grave without having read Marcel Proust or J.K. Rowling . . . In his best moments, Jerry Lewis was as funny as anyone. The rest of the time I want to slap him. Same with Lou Costello . . .

Lou Costello, Bela Lugosi and Glen Strange in Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein
Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein is a very, very funny movie.

The Empire State Building was built in one year in the depths of the Depression! One year! Think about that! . . . Homeopathy and chiropractic are quackery and so is “European-style” osteopathy. But American osteopaths are actual doctors. Their medical schools haven’t been devalued with affirmative action admissions. So, if you’re in America and want a good doctor get an osteopath. He’ll have OD after his name . . . German Village in Columbus, Ohio is the prettiest neighborhood in America . . . Abstract-Expressionism was funded by the C.I.A. and like “conceptual” art it is nothing but a money laundering scam . . .

Action painting by Jackson Pollock
Paid for with your tax dollars!

Correction

In my last post, I wrote that the comic Mort Sahl said, “Lenny Bruce knew people use The Prophet by Gibran to get laid.” Not so. Lenny said it himself . . .  But Mort did have the brilliant line, “In my younger days, I dated actresses and other female impersonators” . . .  But enough about Meghan Markle.

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio
Available as an eBook here and as a paperback an ebook at amazon.com and amazon.co.uk

STOP THE PRESSES!

Vintage cartoon of newsboy shouting Extra.

 I grew up in New York City in the 1950s – the last gasp of the Golden Age of newspaper columnists. These were the “gents room” journalists who sported trench coats and fedoras, smoked cigars and drank rye.

Vintage newspaperman at typewriter.

Walter Winchell and Jimmy Cannon were the “big beasts” whose columns brimmed with opinion, gossip, lies and even some facts. These one-finger typists wrote hard-boiled rants ripe with street smarts and sentimentality. They gave readers the lowdown on Broadway and City Hall and the straight skinny on Harlem and Wall Street. 

Walter Winchell at the radio microphone.
Winchell was so hated and feared that no one attended his funeral.
Jimmy Cannon famous New York sports writer.
Cannon was the quintessential sports reporter who also wrote about dames and daiquiris.

Winchell and Cannon punctuated their column items with three dots that captured the look and rhythm of machine gun bullet holes. Like this . . .

Here then is my homage to Walter Winchell and Jimmy Cannon . . .  

George Floyd was a violent career criminal and this reporter won’t miss his sorry ass one little bit . . . All women with pink hair and tattoos are skanks . . . I hate Oreos – always have, always will . . . If there’s a funnier writer in the English language than Charles Portis, I haven’t read him . . . If the world is facing an existential threat from Covid-19 then why in hell are any planes allowed to fly anywhere anytime anyhow? . . .  Buddy Guy and Dolly Parton are the most charismatic live performers I’ve ever seen. No one even comes close. . .  

Buddy Guy - Chicago blues guitarist and singer.
Without Buddy there’d be no Hendrix, no Clapton, no Stevie Ray.
Dolly Parton
She’s a force of nature on stage.

George Floyd killed himself with a drug OD. He had enough Fentanyl in him to stop a horse and Fentanyl creates the delusion that you can’t breathe even though you can . . . The pulp crime writers Henry and Frank Kane (no relation) are better than Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler. So is Ed McBain . . . The smell of flowers reminds me of death . . .  Why do gay men always say “Miss” Judy Garland and “Miss” Peggy Lee?. . . Wanna know how and why the world was stampeded into Corona-panic? Read: Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds by Charles Mackay. He nailed it in 1841. That’s right – 1841 . . .  

Cover of Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds by Charles Mackay
Mackay knew that most people are sheeple.
Cartoon about the media spreading mass hysteria about Corona.
Mackay didn’t foresee the rise of the fake news media and its ethos of “If it bleeds, it leads.” The more frightened the sheeple are the more they watch TV and the more the media can charge for commercials.

Mainstream Jewish newspapers and organizations have bragged that Antifa is a Jewish revolutionary movement with roots in the Russian revolution and that any criticism of Antifa is anti-Semitic. So… by their own proud admission the Jews are behind this attempt at a violent overthrow of the US. Blacks are just their puppets. 

African American puppet.
Wait a minute… is that a six pointed star?

Cary Grant and Irene Dunne in high speed, comic-flow are as good as it will ever get . . . Climate change is a hoax designed to transfer wealth from White to Brown people . . . I’ve never met a good-looking commie – male or female . . .  All Hassidic Jews smell faintly of garlic . . . Virtue signalling Whites who support Black Lives Matter should move to Gary, Indiana or Camden, New Jersey to demonstrate they are truly “down with the struggle” . . . The jazz singer Johnny Hartman was the best of the “Sepia Sinatras” but he often strayed painfully off pitch . . .

Johnny Hartman album cover - Unforgettable.
Alas, no autotune in Johnny’s heyday.

The accordion and the zither should be outlawed . . . Ben & Jerry’s ice cream is over-priced slop. Breyer’s ice cream is the best in the world . . .  New Mexico policeman Lonnie Zamora didn’t see a crashed UFO in the desert. What he stumbled upon was the NASA testing of a moon landing craft . . .

Painting of Lonnie Zamora being a flying saucer.
And the training astronauts looked like Little Green Men.

The FBI infiltrated and controlled many of the UFO cults and contactee groups of the 1950s . . .   

Uriel of the Unarius Society.
Some like Uriel were harmless loons.
George Adamski - UFO contact and fraud.
Others like George Adamski were conscious frauds. But they were all watched, studied and manipulated.

Why are male psychics almost always swishy queens? . . . All imitation meat products promoted by vegetarians taste like a miscarriage on cardboard . . .

Meat substitute.
Is this before or after this “meat” has passed through the body processes?

Most of Lenny Bruce’s jokes don’t hold up but his routines about liberal hypocrisy get better with time . . .

Lenny Bruce being frisked.
White BLM supporters should be forced to listen to Lenny’s routine, “How to Relax Your Colored Friends at Parties.”

Mort Sahl, Bruce’s main competition, was never funny or dangerous . . .

Mort Sahl
Sahl had one great line though. He said, “Lenny Bruce knew that people use The Prophet to get laid.”

American acting never recovered from the pseudo-Freudian, method acting pushed in post-war NYC acting schools by left-wing Jews who flunked Psych 101 . . .

Sponge Bob on method acting

Montgomery Clift was the worst example of this constipated style of acting. I always want to smack him and scream, “Just say the fuckin’ line already”. . .  Steve Cochran on the other hand was a terrific actor. A real hell raiser. No mamby-pamby method acting bunk in his performances . . .

Steve Cochran and Sabrina
Here’s Steve helping a young actress with her breathing exercises. Whata guy!

The two convicted Black felons apprehended with George Floyd didn’t resist arrest and are alive . . . The FBI’s secret recording of the right-wing militia leader Joseph Milteer weeks before the JFK assassination is proof that people knew Kennedy was about to to be hit. The tapes are on youtube . . . 

JFK autopsy photo.
Milteer mentions shooting JFK with a rifle from an office building and that a patsy had been set-up.

Simple proof of a second gunman in Dealey Plaza is the cadence of the shots reported by everyone no matter how many total shots they heard. The cadence goes… BANG… BANGBANG.  There is no way Oswald could have fired his bolt action rifle twice that quickly.

Album cover Bang Bang my baby shot me down.
BANGBANG = second gunman

Bobby Kennedy never believed the Warren Commission . . . There was a second gunman in the hotel kitchen shooting at Bobby, too . . . There is intriguing evidence linking Canada’s wealthy Bronfman family to the Kennedy and Martin Luther King assassinations . . .

Movie poster for The Tall Target.
This Dick Powell movie from 1951 about an attempted assassination of Lincoln holds a chilling coincidence about the JFK assassination. Watch it and see. 

Ginger Rogers was a great dancer but she was also the most underrated actress of Hollywood’s Golden Age . . . Since being turned over to Black rule, South Africa has become an ungovernable shit hole . . . The same goes for Haiti where Blacks slaughtered the Whites and mulattoes over 200 years ago. The result? Port-au-Prince is the only capital city in the world without a sewage system . . .

Haitian making dirt cookies.
Freed from evil White domination, Haitians eat cookies made from dirt.   

I don’t care what aficionados say, the Edsel was ugly . . . Lili St. Cyr was the sexiest of the old-time strippers . . .

Lili St. Cyr unwrapping a box.
Lili would start her act in a bath and get dressed on stage. A reverse strip! Clever or what?

Malcolm X was a pimp who sold Black women to White men. He then had sex with men in prison. Maybe he liked it coz his wife complained that he was a flop in bed. Most of the tough-guy exploits in his best selling autobiography are the invention of Alex Haley who later plagiarized a White man’s novel and called it Roots. Haley settled with the original writer out of court . . .

Betty Shabazz
Mrs. X was later burned to death by Malcolm’s grandson. Then Malcolm’s daughter and granddaughter were arrested for animal cruelty and auto theft. Then his son was murdered in Mexico for refusing to pay a big bar bill he’d run up buying drinks for hookers. The Waltons they ain’t.

Louis Farrakhan the leader of the Nation of Islam is a Scientologist and a Mason. How does he remember which funny hat to wear and handshake to use? . . .

Book cover of The Secret Relationship Between Blacks and Jews
The Nation of Islam has published brilliant studies of the part Jews played in the slave trade and of the Leo Frank murder case. These books are banned by amazon but Jeff Bezos will sell you other books that claim to debunk the books written by the Nation of Islam. Hmmmnnnn…

Leo Frank was guilty as hell. He raped and murdered Mary Phagan and threw her down an elevator shaft. Frank was a sweatshop owner, rapist and murderer. Mary Phagan was only 13 so Frank was also a pedophile . . .

Mary Phagan alive.
Mary Phagan before she met that nice Mr. Frank.
Mary Phagan dead.
Mary Phagan after she met that nice Mr. Frank.

The Jewish Anti-Defamation League (ADL) was founded to defend Leo Frank. Its lawyers blamed the rape and murder on two innocent Black men who worked for Frank. You won’t learn this in Parade the Broadway musical about the case or in the many biased TV movies. Hey, remind me – who controls Broadway and TV? . . .

Watch for the next edition of STOP THE PRESSES!

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-mmoir by Jack Antonio
Available as an eBook here and as a paperback and eBook from amazon.com and amazon.co.uk

FADE TO BLACK

The darkening of our screens and stages and its part in the theft of our past and future

YOU FLY into London on a British Airways plane on which you are shown an animated film about safety. It stars a cartoon Black man with his cartoon White wife and their cartoon mixed-race child. You pass through immigration control and are poked and probed by Brown people wearing hijabs and turbans who jabber at you in an unintelligible version of the English language. Heading for the tube you pass a poster that shows a Black woman dressed in Elizabethan garb beckoning you to the Globe Theatre.

On the ride into town you see posters for the latest West End plays. There are productions of Shakespeare’s Richard II and Henry V starring Black women in the title roles. (The critics rave that these classic plays finally make sense.) There is also an Asian actor playing David Copperfield and Christmas pantos starring Blacks and Asians as Cinderella, Dick Whittington, and Snow White. Next to the entertainment ads are those for mortgages and mattresses all featuring Black men with White women. And, they are almost always blonde women.

You get home, put your feet up in front of the TV and notice that there are an unusually large number of Brown people on the streets of Victorian London as depicted in the BBC’s latest version of A Christmas Carol. And the villages of Midsomer are teeming with more people-of-color than your local benefits office. Even Doctor Who is suddenly a Black woman! You channel surf and are confronted by Black vikings, Black centurions, Black Tudors and an Asian King Arthur!

The news is read by a Brown person. The weather is given to you by a Brown person. Your favorite gardening program is presented by a Brown person. The Brown person presenting your favorite wildlife program explains without a trace of irony the danger of extinction faced by native fauna and flora due to the invasion of alien species.

A typical example of the “colour-blind” casting was the 1997 Disney adaptation of Cinderella — in which a negress Queen (played by Whoopi Goldberg) — and a White king somehow managed to have a Filipino son, who ends up married to a negress Cinderella.

In disgust, you turn off your TV and browse through the latest brochure from the National Trust. But something is odd — most of the people shown wandering around the stately homes of England are Brown. The mothers of the large, happy families in the photos wear Muslim or Hindu garb. The only White faces are those of blonde women holding hands with Black men and their mixed-race children.

Meanwhile, your teenage son is in his room playing a new computer game set in World War I. But, in this version of the Great War, the trenches look like a Saturday night in Brixton and the game’s logo is the face of a Black Tommy. You wonder if you have slipped into an alternate universe or are dreaming. But you aren’t dreaming. You are living through a waking nightmare. And I can tell you why.

I’ve been a professional actor for fifty years. I’m also a proud member of that most despised of all groups — old White men. I’m not a star or even a semi-name but you have probably seen and heard me many times. I know the world of advertising and show business. And I know how, why, and by whom our screens are being darkened, I am being denied work, and our past and future are being stolen from us.

The answer is BAME. It stands for “Black, Asian, or Mixed Ethnicity.” And that acronym is now an essential part of every media company’s ethos. When a “brand” is hiring actors for a commercial or a production company is hiring actors for a play, movie, or TV program, they proudly trumpet the fact that they prefer to see or will only see performers who are BAME. (Imagine what would happen if someone advertised with a preference for White actors and actresses.)

The Cultural Marxist octopus has many tentacles and has been at work in all the arts for many decades. As a child in 1950s America, I saw early attempts at “color-blind” casting. But, in the 1960s, the prominent New York theatrical producer Joseph Papp started pushing non-Whites big time in his Shakespearean productions in Central Park. (You will not be surprised to learn that Papp was a Jew.) I suffered through many productions of Romeo and Julietwith a Black Romeo and a White Juliet. Or a Black Macbeth and White Lady Macbeth. The audience “wasn’t supposed to notice” these racial absurdities and anyone who did was a “racist.” So, most people pretended not to notice — and they still do.

Oriental audiences are more forthright in their opinions. They want White heroes. Star Wars films that feature Black actors flop in China — a very important film market. So, the Star Wars producers avoid putting Black faces on the film posters. And, the latest Star Wars had to remove a “gay” kiss to make it acceptable to Orientals who want their heroes straight, too.

What’s wrong with this picture?

We Occidentals feel the same, even if most won’t admit it. We vote in private with our money. The producer of the mega-successful comic-book “cape hero” film franchise let slip at a convention that movies and action figures based on non-White characters don’t sell — worldwide. The sale of dolls, clothing and mugs, etc. is a major part of the profit stream for any film or animation. It is a racially revealing economic fact that Black Barbie and Ken dolls don’t sell — even to Black kids. “Gay” and trannie Barbies and Kens also gather dust on store shelves. White heterosexuality is the go-to choice for everyone.

But, shouting “commercial considerations be damned”, the Cultural Marxists have doubled down in Britain and are putting propaganda ahead of profit. The British Film Institute (BFI), which bestows crucial funding to film projects, fell into the tentacles of one Josh Berger, an American Jew with a long Hollywood history.

Under Berger’s malevolent influence the BFI has mandated higher levels of BAME. Any production that does not meet the set levels will be denied funding and thus any chance of distribution or awards. It will be dead. So, producers genuflect to globohomo and grind out the anti-White, anti-heterosexual, anti-Christian propaganda that pollutes our screens. Adding insult to injury, we are paying for this filth because the majority of the BFI’s money comes from the UK taxpayer!

The levels of “race and gender-blind” casting mandated include:

• At least one lead character must be non-White
• 50-50 male-female ratio in entire cast
• At least 20% of cast must be non-White
• At least 10% must be LGBTQ
• At least 7% disabled
• A large proportion of plot lines and filming locations must be set among underrepresented groups.

With those parameters in mind, try writing a film that should by natural law, reason, and historical fact be set in a White, male world. How can you fit that many women, homos, lesbians, trannies, Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, Blacks, and crippled, cis-phobic, bi-curious Eskimos into a Lancaster bomber, a monastery, or the Alamo? And, I wonder if these same race and gender targets will apply if an all-Black film company sought funding for a movie set in a lesbian bathhouse in Somalia? Would the screenwriter have to find a way to squeeze White, Christian, hetero males into the steam room?

Uh… better make that – 12 Angry Black, Chinese, crippled, cis-phobic, trans-sexual, lesbian Eskimos.

We aren’t being betrayed by the BFI alone. The British Academy of Film and Television Arts which bestows the prestigious BAFTA awards is equally on-board the globohomo express though it is (small comfort) privately funded. Still, if you want to win a BAFTA you must bow down to the Cultural Marxists who run that outfit.

And British Equity (the actors’ union) promotes and protects every race but White. It cares nothing for the race that only created theatre, film, television, radio, the Internet, and trade unions! It promotes and protects every sexual persuasion but heterosexuality. My union dues are currently paying for a campaign to ensure that “trans” actors get to audition for roles of any gender including those of the gender they claim to have left. Meanwhile, I can’t get an audition to play an old White guy because it’s being played by a Black female-to-male trannie!

The BBC admitted that its “race-blind” casting of period dramas is not historically accurate but feels it is important to do it in the interests of cultural cohesion. Well… if this BAME business is not part of an anti-White agenda but just a well-intentioned attempt to make us all race- and “gender”-blind then when do I get to play Martin Luther King or Winnie Mandela?

Meanwhile, for all their disingenuous calls for race-blindness, Black performers insist on race-based preferential treatment and love “acting Black” — especially in period dramas. Notice how Black actors in plays by Shaw, Ibsen, or Wilde will use a ghetto pose and vocal inflection to get a cheap laugh. They are Black to their bones and they know it and are happy to play the minstrel if it’s to their advantage.

At this point a few questions come to mind. If non-Whites were important personages in what we thought had been a White world then what the hell are they complaining about? If Blacks really “wuz kangz” as the Black Israelites proclaim (including kangz of England) then where was the discrimination? And, if Blacks were capable of achieving so much back-in-the-day, then what the heck happened? Did they simply forget how to be physicians, scientists, architects, engineers and, yes, kangz?

Not Wakanda but Merrie Olde England.

Remember those National Trust (NT) brochures full of photos of happy smiling Brown people? They are a staged hoax. The National Trust advertised on casting sites all over Britain for BAME models and actors to pose as visitors and staff at stately homes. But, in reality, if you visit NT properties you will see that with rare exception they are delightfully White in both staff and visitors.

Still this hasn’t stopped the NT management from pushing globohomo. They “out” and promote queer members of the families that owned the properties. And they suggest that bent Uncle Bertie was the best of the bunch. The NT even tried to force its volunteers to wear rainbow flags but most refused. Meanwhile, when I speak privately with older NT volunteers, I find they have fond memories of Enoch Powell and Oswald Mosley.

I have starred in many TV commercials for top brands that were broadcast worldwide. I assure you that it isn’t merely fashion or whim that matches so many Black men with White women. In a thirty second commercial every second counts and nothing appears on screen by chance. I have seen directors, clients and cameramen almost come to blows in arguments over the color of my shirt. How much more debate has gone into the color of the actor’s skin?

No, these racial pairings are not accidental but are blatant attempts to break down the resistance to race-mixing from all races. Listen to Black talk radio programs and you will hear Black women weep that Black men are encouraged to get blondes. In fact, Black nationalists (our mirror image and possible allies) believe that race-mixing is the ultimate sin. And we know what happens to Asian girls who race-mix. But, as with films, the Cultural Marxists don’t give a damn and plow on, sacrificing profits for propaganda.

Case in point: Gillette recently ran an anti-male ad campaign that suggested all men (especially White men) are sex-pests. White men were outraged. This campaign culminated in an ad in which a Black father showed his daughter who had “transitioned to male” how to shave. This time Black men were outraged. This PC campaign cost Gillette a record amount of profit. But its CEO said it was worth it to promote “diversity.”

Careful now, daughter, er… I mean, son… uh… whatever da hell you is. Wouldn’t want ya to slit your throat now, would we?

Alongside the tribe that foments and feasts off our replacement lives an opportunistic parasite — the Black “race hustler.” The uber-obnoxious Whoopi Goldberg is a master of this scam. And, despite being as funny as a fire in an orphanage, Whoopi has made a fortune playing the fat, sassy soul-sista who is the repository of all wisdom. (Sort of an X-rated version of Mammy in Gone with the Wind or a potty-mouthed Aunt Jemima.)

You’ll notice that this smart, sassy maid stereotype is a staple of sitcoms. She is always the smartest person in the house she cleans. She’s certainly smarter than the doofus White dad who is the butt of all her jokes. (There is literally a genre of US sitcom called “Doofus Dad.”)

Believing her own bullshit, Goldberg has morphed into a political pundit. She holds forth daily on US TV on all manner of subjects while injecting the race card into all of them — no matter how misplaced. She gets away with this because Whites are afraid of challenging her lest they be called “racist.” Believe me, if you think Jews are good at squeezing the “Holocaust” into any discussion, you ain’t seen nuthin’ till you see Whoopi at work. (We have the Jewish director Mike Nichols to thank for Goldberg’s rise to fame.)

Another race-hustler is Bonnie Greer, a smug, American Negress based in the UK and a poor man’s Goldberg. Greer is a regular on BBC political chat programs where she is introduced as a “noted American playwright.” But I challenge anyone on either side of the pond to name a single Bonnie Greer play. In fact, in America she is entirely unknown. The woman is a fraud. And, like Whoopi, she benefits from Whites’ reticence to call her out.

The BBC loves wheeling her out because it allows them to tick certain boxes on their diversity chart. Foreigner. Female. Black. Greer’s many appearances allow her to shoe-horn the race card into every subject imaginable while demonstrating the stultifying banality of her opinions. But, I gotta give this sassy, soul-sista credit because with no talent (especially no playwriting talent) she has become the House Negro of the British middle class and (wait for it) — a board member of the British Museum!

“You racist, sexist bastards, I wanted to play LADY MacBeth!

Homosexuals are also useful idiots for their Cultural Marxist masters. They’ll do anything if it gives them the chance to snort poppers and wear frocks. Meanwhile, the lesbians happily play along because they get to wear the pants on stage in taxpayer-funded all-female Shakespearean productions. It is true that in Shakespeare’s day young men played the female roles. But, this was not transvestism by choice. It was necessary because women weren’t allowed on the Elizabethan stage. And there was no kissing or touching in the original productions.

Homosexual playwrights, directors, and designers rarely miss a chance to demean Whiteness and masculinity and to degrade females. In a recent London production of a play based on Patrick Hamilton’s brilliant WW2 novel The Slaves of Solitude, the queer director and adapter changed the American GI who was the play’s love interest into a Black soldier. This was impossible casting for all sorts of reasons. But it allowed the queers to indulge in their own fantasy of having a Black buck ravage the spinsterish English heroine.

There have been many other instances of plays and musicals being mangled by ludicrous race and “gender-bending” casting. Edward Albee, Arthur Miller, Tennessee Williams, Noel Coward, and Rodgers and Hammerstein all forbade such changes. Some of those men were homosexual but they still recognized cultural vandalism when they saw it. Sadly, their estates are managed by their PC grandchildren determined to make their Grandpa’s back catalogue hipster-friendly. That sound you hear is of those disrespected gents turning in their graves.

Politically Correct theatre was typified by the multiracial, “anti-fascist” production of Hamlet at the Irish Theatre, Covent Garden in 2019.

Meanwhile, the hypocrisy of the Cultural Marxists and their apparatchiks in the arts is stunning. They live in the Whitest communities they can find and send their children to the Whitest schools. (The Clintons live in the Whitest zip code in America, and Jewish Bernie Sanders moved from multi-ethnic Brooklyn to Vermont — the Whitest state!) The only contact these hypocrites have with any non-White is with their Black maids. And, if she gets too sassy, they’ll fire her Black ass.

As employers these showbiz Marxists are anything but progressive. All the major film, TV, and commercial producers including the big streaming services film their projects in poor countries. South Africa and Eastern Europe are especially popular. They do this to bust the performer’s unions in the US and UK.

This anti-worker behavior is nothing new. In the 1930s, the Jewish movie moguls who ran Hollywood hired goon squads to bust up organizing meetings for the Screen Actors Guild. Meanwhile, British Equity is too busy creating new genders to act as a genuine trade union and fight the media giants.

These media “liberals” also go abroad to abuse and exploit the local actors and crews. The same producers and stars who cry on the awards shows about Trump and climate change and animal rights allow film extras to be treated like cattle — forced to stand in the cold and wet for many hours (sometimes all night) and given little or no food and very meagre wages.

I’ve had extras beg me for food while the loud-mouth lefty stars dined like Meghan Markle. And the film crews are forced to work round the clock which leads to unsafe conditions. I have seen actors and extras almost decapitated by machinery. I have walked off unsafe sets but most actors are afraid to stand up for themselves.

If I sound angry it’s because I am. And I’m proud of it. I’m also proud of my history, heritage, and culture and I’ll be damned if I’ll let anyone degrade, destroy, or steal them. My anger is fueled by the blood of my ancestors that flows through my veins. And as long as that most precious blood flows through me, I shall do all I can to expose and resist the deliberate genocide of our people. A genocide that is being dramatized and broadcast. On prime time. And we are paying to watch the spectacle.

If you don’t believe me, just go to a movie or play. Turn on your radio or TV. Or, just open your eyes. It’s happening. It isn’t a sitcom or movie. It’s real. It’s deliberate. And we can stop it. But the entirely legal means of doing so are best discussed elsewhere. In the meantime — Hail Victory!

This article originally appeared in Heritage and Destiny a bi-monthly 24-page magazine, published in the UK, to reflect a cross section of 21st century racial-nationalist opinion. For a sample copy please send $10.00 to; H&D, 40 Birkett Drive, Preston, PR2 6HE, England, UK. For full subscription details check out heritageanddestiny.com

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio
Available as an eBook here and as a paperback and eBook from amazon.com and amazon.co.uk

Ghosts of Covid 19

I looked across the street and there was Kirk sitting alone on a bench at a bus stop. I was surprised to see him because I had only moments before deleted him from my WhatsApp. I had deleted Kirk because he was dead. 

Empty bench at bus stop.

I had spent several moments debating his deletion. It’s an act of frightening finality like scratching a dead friend from an address book or a family member from your Christmas card list. Now, I felt slightly affronted that, after causing me the upset of eliminating him from my social circle going forward, Kirk was back. Uninvited.  

It was Kirk alright. Over there on the bench. Waiting for a bus. No play of the light. No doppelganger. No undigested bit of cheese. No. It was Kirk in full fleshy form. Dead but somehow alive. I considered hailing him, “Kirk, what the fuck?” But, decided that might frighten him. So, I used the nearby zebra crossing to get over to him. I checked for cars to my right but when I checked to my left, Kirk had vanished. He hadn’t boarded a bus because none had passed. The street was empty. No crowd to get lost in. No place to hide. No. Kirk had vanished. 

I was sure that Kirk had died earlier that day of Covid 19. At least, that’s what they told me. Covid 19. That’s what they’d been telling everyone about anyone who had died. Covid 19. But, in Kirk’s case it made sense. He was a burly type but pushing seventy and deceptively weak inside. He’d been dealt a bad genetic hand. They turned Kirk’s respirator off on the eight day. But, I knew he was a goner when he stayed in the London hospital for more than two days.

Dead man's feet in morgue with toe tags.

English hospitals are lethally dirty places at the best of times. Kirk would have been safer in a men’s room stall in a tube station. But, Britain’s National Health Service is the state religion and otherwise intelligent folk are afraid to criticize it. They prefer to die. To take one for the team. (This misplaced stoicism is the only remnant of “stiff upper lip” still on display on this island.) The NHS manages to kill 40,000 a year with malpractice. And, that’s in normal years. How many of Britain’s Corona dead were foolishly trusting souls who fell not to the virus but to the inept ministrations of socialized medicine? 

memento more of skull with wings.
Mustn’t grumble, mate.

The only other person I knew who died of Covid 19 was a New York actor of some note. I’d never met him. Yet, our lives were inextricably linked. Forty years ago, he inherited a girlfriend of mine who had just dumped me. He didn’t do this to hurt me. We’d never met. But, I never forgave him for poaching my quail.

Then, in a coincidence of startling cruelty, he starred in an off-Broadway play as a character that was based on me. And, he got the biggest laugh of the night with a monologue in which he recounted one of the most painful romantic disasters of my life.  The play had been written by an old roommate of mine. I didn’t mind that he used my life as comic fodder. But, I never forgave the actor for playing me. And, worse, for getting such big laughs. 

Pierrot stabbed daed on stage with other Commedia dell Arte characters.
Laugh clown, laugh.

So, when he died, I was glad. Not elated. But definitely a “gotcha” moment. It wasn’t schadenfreude – that’s the sweet pleasure one feels due to the failure and misfortunes of friends. This actor was never a friend. But, his death from Covid 19 gave me an undeniable twinge of sweet pleasure none the less. I am not completely without compassion. I hoped his death had been as painless as possible but I was glad the son of a bitch was dead. And, of course, I felt a hint of sorrow for his widow. A hint. I hadn’t thought of either of them for decades and then they burst into my life uninvited and haunted my Corona lockdown dreams. 

Ghostly image of a cat on stairs.

As I sat typing this post, my cat walked between my legs as she often does, rubbing against them demanding attention and food. She’s been doing this more than ever in the lockdown. And, she’s taken to sitting on the stairs that lead up to my flat. She’s always waiting there for me when I come back from my daily sleepwalk through the local parks. And, many times during the day, I see her in her favorite spot in the back garden stretching her neck to see up to my third-floor windows and begging entrance. None of this would be unusual aside from the fact that my cat died two years ago.  

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio
Available as an ebook and paperback
amazon.com
amazon.co.uk
and as an eBook
here

Porno at the P.O.

Man screaming in a straight jacket
Suiting up for another graveyard shift at
the Grand Central Station P.O.

The Christmas blues of 1970 morphed into the January blues of 1971. I and my fellow “cultural casualties” of the 1960s having dropped out of college and dropped far too many psychedelics were facing the prospect of a lifetime of blue-collar work in the Post Office. Yeah, yeah, it was a job-for-life with uniform and pension but not quite what we had envisioned for ourselves just a few years before. Back in college we were going to be actors, writers, musicians, poets, painters, philosophers even. But, the luster had faded from our Age of Aquarius fantasies as it had from the few sorry strands of Christmas tinsel that hung from atop the mail sorting coops. 

We were a motley crew but not without our talents and charms. Alex was a half-assed genius and chess master. Mark was a poet and literate in Latin. Murray was a killer wit and killer blues guitarist. Sandy was trying to decipher the hidden codes in Dylan’s lyrics. And, Charles, our only Black member, was trying to convert everyone at the Post Office to 7th Day Adventism and vegetarianism. We were all from working class families and had discovered to our shock and horror that unless something miraculous happened we would not escape the gravitational pull of our caste. So, we embraced our fate. 

Vintage Soviet poster of worker at anvil with sledgehammer
Our new self-image and style

As if on cue and without any spoken agreement, we took to wearing plaid, flannel work shirts, tattered jeans, garrison belts and battered work boots. We cut our freakish hair back to a moderately radical length. Less Woodstock. More Workers of the World. We trimmed our facial hair to Lenin length. And, we embraced the Grateful Dead’s album Workingman’s Dead as if it were written only for us. After all, we were nothing if not workingmen.   

Album cover of Workingman's Dead by the Grateful Dead
A great album even if you’re not working.

One of the worst aspects of being a trainee mail-sorter was that we weren’t guaranteed hours. If the mail dried up we were sent home. And, this often happened shortly after we had clocked on for our graveyard shift. There we’d be in midtown Manhattan at Midnight having planned to be up all night and having ingested amphetamines to help us be up all night but suddenly with no reason to be up all night. Luckily, Alex lived in a nearby East Side tenement so we’d pick up some munchies and beer and head over to his pad, there to smoke hash and listen to Workingman’s Dead till dawn’s early light. Or, at least, till Alex’s neighbors banged on the walls. We named ourselves the Dead Workingmen. (Okay, not that clever but we needed all the help we could get.)  

Suddenly, it became embarrassingly clear that Tony, one of our Supervisors, was madly in love with Sandy. I don’t think this burly Italian knew he was gay and he certainly wasn’t swishy in any way. But, goddamn, he was as queer as a three-dollar bill for Sandy. Lovesick Tony was eager to demonstrate to Sandy how powerful he was by how many favors he could do for him. One big problem. If he gave Sandy a break he had to give it to all of the Dead Workingmen or his cover would be blown. We teased Sandy mercilessly about his conquest but he still generously connived to use his charm over Tony to the group’s advantage i.e. without “coming across” for the Italian Stallion, Sandy kept him sweet on our behalf.  

Heart tattoo on man's bicep
“Hey, I love you, Sandy.
You got a problem wit dat?”

Some nights Sandy would persuade Tony to let us get lost for a few hours. We’d head over to Alex’s while still on the clock and then sneak back in at 8AM to punch out. Some nights at Sandy’s behest Tony would let us hide and sleep on the filthy mailbags piled out on the loading dock. Other nights he’d put us on parcel sorting duty – a welcome break from the din and dementia of the sorting coops. We’d stand before rows of open mailbags and practice our basketball jump shots tossing boxes into the bags. Sometimes we even read the addresses and aimed for the right mail bag. Sometimes we even made a basket. But, truth to tell, we didn’t give a shit. We had come to hate the mail itself. Mark once tickled his throat until he vomited into the tray of mail he was sorting. (I know, I know, disgusting. But, you gotta understand that 99.999999% of the mail we were sorting was junk mail. And, the rest was going to Reverend Ike!) 

Time Clock Confidential

Workers at factory time clock
“Oh yeah, punch this.”

I don’t know if anyone actually punches a time clock anymore. But when I first joined the world-of-work as a teenager, I was angered by the demeaning nature of this act. I was even more angered by the grown-ups who loitered by the time clock waiting for it to tick to a specific second so they could get a few paltry shekels more in their meagre pay envelopes. I was embarrassed for them and hated how they compared stories of time clock victories and defeats and of famous “time clock jockeys” of yesteryear. The Post Office was full of these lifers who stared in amazement and clucked with disdain as I strode past them and punched out without even looking at the hour hand. Wage slaves. Not me.

Vintage photo of young boys cleaning factory machines
The Dead Workingmen hard at work.

Meanwhile back at the Tony-Sandy love affair things became waaaay too strange and sad for this trainee mail-sorter. It happened one night when members of the Dead Workingmen were surreptitiously tapped on the shoulder and told to report to Tony’s office. There we discovered the other invited guests were the usually unfriendly Supervisors. Tony had set up a movie projector and hung a sheet on the wall. He greeted us conspiratorially then locked the door, turned off the lights and showed us a stag movie i.e. the type of fuck-film that was usually confiscated if sent in the U.S Mail. I wondered if this film had been caught by an eagle-eyed postal dick and turned over to Tony. 

Vintage magazine ad for Stag Movies

As the silent, grainy, 8MM black and white film unspooled on the stained sheet, the air in the room became noxious with nervous laughter, unfunny quips and cigar smoke. We’d been invited to a classic “smoker.” The film showed a singularly unattractive couple reclining on a singularly uncomfortable table and fucking in a singularly unenthusiastic manner. Watching their coitus was as erotic as watching the piston action on a Ford V8. But, I sensed that a bizarre male-bonding ritual was at play. The Supers wanted to show us that they weren’t such bad guys after all. Hey, they were like our fathers and uncles – just a bunch of older working-class fellas who liked watching fuck-films with a bunch of younger working-class fellas. This secret screening was an olive branch extended across the generations and a sort of test.

Would we make the grade and join their ranks of Merry (albeit horny) Mailmen?

Also, except for Charles, we were all White as were the Supers. I sensed they wanted to find racial solidarity with us since they spent so much time with obese Black women with whom they shared little cultural interest. Least of all watching fuck-films.

I’m sure that shrinks would highlight what they’d claim was clear homo-eroticism in this sweat-lodge soiree. But, I don’t think that was what was going on with the Supers. Except for Tony. He turned on the projector, pushed me aside and sat next to Sandy. As the couple built to their inevitable climax we all watched in silence. Except for Tony. He giggled and elbowed Sandy while peppering him with questions in hushed rabid whisper. 

“You believe the size of the cock on that guy.”

“Wait. Wait. She swallows the whole thing.” 

“Look at that bush. You like hairy twat, Sandy?” 

“Hey, Sandy, you ever put it in a girl’s ass?” 

Then, after the “money shot” in which the on-screen stud splashed his semen all over his fair maiden’s belly Tony gushed – “Yeah, that’s the good part, right, Sandy?” 

The Supers must have overheard Tony’s pillow talk but they didn’t react. Meanwhile, the Dead Workingmen shared looks of amused horror. Mainly horror. Then the lunch horn barked, the lights came on and with eyes cast downward we bolted out of there muttering, “Holy shit, what the fuck was that?!”

Shortly after that night I was fired for telling an especially sadistic Supervisor to go fuck himself. The union jumped to my defense assuming that I wanted to keep my job. At the mediation meeting the union rep was dumbstruck when I told all present that the United States Postal Service could sort my job where the sun don’t shine. I thought about throwing the porn party in their faces but didn’t coz I knew that would make big trouble for Tony and the Dead Workingmen I was leaving behind.

Album cover for Johnny pay check and Take this job and shove it.
Workers of the world unite.
You have nothing to lose but your jobs.

CODA

Ten years later while walking in the middle of nowhere on Staten Island, I ran into Murray. (What are the odds?) We recognized each other even though he was now as obese as his female Black co-workers. Yes, he was still at the Grand Central P.O. but he was now a Junior Supervisor. No, he wasn’t playing guitar anymore. It was an awkward encounter and a painful one for him. Murray and I had come from similar working-class backgrounds, two Brooklyn boys who had arrived at the same point via similar paths. Then our paths diverged. I had followed my dream of being an actor. He had buried his of being a musician. We exchanged phone numbers and promised to get together. We never did. 

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio 
Image: the smiling face of Steeplechase Park in Coney Island, Brooklyn
Available as an eBook and paperback
amazon.com
amazon.co.uk
And as an eBook here
https://books2read.com/The-Boy-Outa-Brooklyn
 

Christmas in Hell

Vintage Merry Christmas card

When I was a little shaver, my mother told my siblings and me the heartwarming story of a mother with many children who had killed herself on Christmas Eve. She put her brood to bed with visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads then turned on the gas oven and laid down under the Christmas tree among the presents. That’s the way her children found her on Christmas morn. As a child, I wondered how she could bear to kill herself before opening her presents. But, with every passing Yuletide, I understood more and more why that mother had checked out in such ghoulishly festive style. 

Christmas is a burden. A time of testing. A time of taking stock. And, woe betide anyone who comes up short. The pressure to be happy is overwhelming. Everywhere there are the iconic images of Santa, sleigh bells and snow; everywhere the glowing fireplaces, twinkling trees; everywhere the perfectly wrapped presents and perfectly formed snowmen.

Vintage Christmas Card with holly border
Christmas in South Brooklyn looked just like this. Honest.

And, the U.S. Post Office is one of the major purveyors of this Christmas myth via its nostalgic stamps and “mail early” missives. So, imagine my chagrin when December of 1970 found me working at the “Christmas coal-face” aka Grand Central Station Post Office – one of the largest Christmas card sorting offices in the world. 

Vintage toy mailbox "Letters for Santa"

This was a time before emails, texting and twitter when people mailed each other Christmas cards to such an extent that the P.O. had to hire seasonal workers to handle the Xmas deluge. We sorters were buried under red and green envelopes for weeks and had to work tons of over time to make a dent in the never-ending flow. I was then living in a dreary studio in a dreary Brooklyn neighborhood without even a dreary girlfriend. Sadly, I couldn’t afford a Christmas tree to commit suicide under. (Hell, I could barely afford to pay my gas bill.) I needed the O.T. so I worked all the hours the P.O. threw at me. And, even though the Post Office closed for Christmas Day, I did have a shift on Christmas Eve. 

Vintage sign - This station will be closed Dec 25 -

That magical, candy cane night brought a heady party atmosphere to the usually grim sorting floor. The shift bosses cast off their usual Scrooge demeanours and donned elf hats and light-up reindeer horns. Most terrifying of all were the ancient workers (male and female) who stalked the sorting aisles brandishing sprigs of Mistletoe. These creeps had never smiled or spoken to me all year but were suddenly wagging their egg-nog-coated tongues in my direction. 

The obese Black women who were “union-job-for-lifers” had years before commandeered certain sorting aisles as their private turf and held “INVITATION ONLY” office parties in them. They jealously guarded their paper plates covered with baloney and their Ritz crackers covered with aerosol cheese while they quaffed bottle after bottle of Colt 45 and Night Train.

Sliced baloney on plate
What part of “INVITATION ONLY” don’t you understand?
Yeah, you could use this shit to write “Merry Christmas” on a cracka… er, I mean… cracker.

Meanwhile, an oldies radio station blasted the usual rock & roll “Christmas classics” on heavy rotation. It also played Air Force radar reports of a mysterious, manned flying object that was tracked leaving the North Pole and headed for New York. 

Just shoot me. 

When our 4AM lunch break came, we were called to an open area where many of us climbed atop the towering mail machinery and dangled from it like Marxists seizing the means of production. 

Charles Chaplain in Modern Times

The sadistic fat-fuck who ran this P.O. suddenly appeared in a cheap Santa suit and arm-twisted a few of the obese Black women to sit on his lap. This much racial fraternization was a rare thing in 1970s America. Cue: A rash of awkward jokes about negroes and Noel. 

Vintage Coca-Cole Santa
In the Hallmark movie version he would look like this.
Vintage creepy Santa with child
But, this was the Grand Central Post Office version.

Mercifully, several other obese Black females appeared in full Gospel choir drag to serenade us with their screeched renditions of Silent Night and We Three Kings. They finished their set with a sing-a-long of White Christmas. Cue: more forced racial jokes.

Female Gospel quartet
In the Hallmark movie version they would be great but…

Then the back to work bell sounded putting an end to this Happy Holidays horror. At the end of my shift, I headed for the subway through a deserted Grand Central Station and wondered where I could buy a Christmas tree with gas jet attached. 

Vintage Happy Holiday card
And to all a good Night!

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio
Image: Steeplechase Park in Coney Island, Brooklyn
Available as an eBook and paperback
amazon.com
amazon.co,uk
And as an eBook here
https://books2read.com/The-Boy-Outa-Brooklyn
 

Postal Realism

Vintage postage stamp of mailman

Hallelujah! I passed the Post Office test with a gold star and was told to report to the massive Grand Central Station sorting office hidden behind the even more massive Grand Central Station. I quickly learned that working there was noisy, numbing, mindless, repetitive, soul-destroying drudgery. A shift was eight endless hours in a sweatshop under the blare of metal machinery, the glare of fluorescent lights and the stares of angry bosses and suspicious Black women who weren’t best pleased that a White-boy was on their patch. A White-boy who had passed the Post Office test first time. And, without special tutoring!

Sweatshop

I was shown to my letter sorting station where I sat perched on a scoliosis-inducing high stool facing pigeon coops labeled with Zip Codes – 11213, 10751, 10001 etc. Like a touch typist, I was expected to know the Zip Code coop positions by heart, grab letters from the mail trays before me and deftly flick them into the correct coops without looking. Meanwhile, the slave drivers… er, I mean… shift-bosses strode up and down the aisle shouting at me to work faster. I noticed that they never shouted at the obese Black women perched precariously on their high stools with one hand in a mail tray and the other in a bag of potato chips gossiping with the obese Black women on either side. These union-job-for-lifers occasionally tossed a piece of mail in the general direction of the coops. 

mail sorting coops
The rack… er, I mean… the mail sorting coops

Trainees had to raise their hands and request permission to pee and then had to sign in and out of the toilet room. After a few weeks on the job, I was threatened with unpaid suspension for taking too many pee breaks. But, I wasn’t going to pee or to do a line of coke. I was going to splash water on my face to stay awake. I was working the “graveyard shift” – Midnight to 8AM. And, it was pure hell. 

I would finish acting in a play downtown at 10PM then have two hours to kill before punching in at Midnight uptown. So, I’d join the other actors for a few beers and then head to work. I was never drunk but the hour and the alcohol conspired to make staying awake until 8AM a muthafucka. Round about 3AM, I would start fading and start my regular treks to the toilet. 

Zippy Zipcode

Meanwhile back at the pigeon coops… one coop didn’t have a Zip Code. It had a name. That name was Reverend Ike – a Black televangelist who had become very popular in the early 1970s. And, no foolin’, the Good Reverend got so much mail he needed his own Zip Code!

Ike sported the processed hair and wardrobe of a pimp. And, like a pimp, he was all about money. But, he was also intelligent, articulate, witty and (I still believe) genuine. (As an actor, I admire all good public speakers and Ike was one of the best. You can catch his act and his suits on Youtube. Forget Creflo Dollar and all of today’s exponents of the “Gospel of Greed” coz Ike had ’em beat.)  

Reverend Ike
The real Godfather of REAL Soul

Ike’s God wasn’t no welfare God. Ike’s God was a Maserati, mink coat and motorboat God. Ike’s God was The God of Bling.  

I liked Ike. 

I liked him coz he wasn’t a hypocrite. He wasn’t preaching sack cloth and ashes while wearing Armani. He wanted his congregation to wear Armani, too. (Jim and Tammy Bakker later practiced and preached this same holy excess. And, Joel Osteen has become America’s top televangelist with a white bread version of Ike’s message.) But, Ike’s theology wasn’t original. It was a mish-mash of Dale Carnegie, Norman Vincent Peale and Napoleon Hill with a dash of the uber-pimp Iceberg Slim thrown in for good measure! 

Iceberg Slim
The Gospel according to Iceberg Slim

Ike had his congregation hold up and wave dollar bills while intoning, “I want money. I love money. Money is my friend.” He closed his broadcasts with a call for Love Gifts. Those were to be sent in an envelope simply addressed to –

Rev. Ike

Grand Central Station

New York , New York

The envelopes that I sorted into Ike’s coop (and I sorted lots every night!) were written in pencil, in shaky little-old-lady handwriting with many words misspelled and with backward letters. We mail sorters passed around the funnier versions. I envisioned Black little-old-ladies all over America waving their dollar bills at their TVs while intoning “I love money” then sticking the bills in an envelope addressed to “that nice young man” – Rev. Ike.

Some envelopes held nothing but coins but others held very large bills. (We held the envelopes up to the light and called out the denominations.) The bigger the bill you gave, the bigger the boat you got. Or, at least, that’s the way it was supposed to work. If your ship never came in then maybe you just weren’t gifting enough. (Okay, so Ike was a conman but he was a genuine conman – a very common character in American social, religious and political history.)    

One night I was being lectured about Aesthetic Realism by the paunchy, prematurely balding Jewish guy to my right. He was working on a masters in Philosophy at Columbia. (There were a surprising number of screwy-scholars working at the P.O. and they all had theories about everything from Bauhaus to blintzes.) This particular genius was also a homosexual and he wasn’t happy about it. He explained to me how Aesthetic Realism would cure him of his compulsion to fist anonymous members of the public in public restrooms. 

The Aesthetic Realism of Eli Siegel and the change from homosexuality

Aesthetic Realism was a psychobabble micro-cult founded by the Jewish poet Eli Siegel, who claimed that he could cure queerness. Aesthetic Realism enjoyed a Nano-second of popularity in the pretentious arty-academic circles of Manhattan in the early 1970s. But, I don’t think it ever made it across the Hudson. And, it was soon surpassed by the psychobabble sensation called est which was concocted by another Jew – John Rosenberg… er, I mean… Werner Erhard. He was a conman and not a genuine one. (What is it with these Jewish conmen and their psycho-cults already? But, enough about Sigmund Freud.) 

Eli Siegel quote
Reminds me of the deep thought of that other Jewish psychobabble genius – Marianne Williamson

So… anyway… I was half-listening to my conflicted colleague while planning my next trip to the toilet and praying he didn’t follow me in when… WHAM! Mr. Aesthetic Realism was pulled off his perch, handcuffed and dragged away kicking and screaming by a pair of plain-clothes postal cops. They’d been watching him for some time and caught him sorting mail meant for Rev. Ike into his own pocket. 

There was no loudspeaker announcement acknowledging what had just happened. The guy was simply disappeared like a Soviet dissident. At the next coffee break the Post Office grapevine passed the news that not only were we being watched from above like gamblers in a casino but there were spies working among us posing as trainees and lifers. We were slaving in the Grand Central Gulag.

Force march at gulag
Coffee break is over! Back to the coops!

And, people wonder why Merry Mailmen go postal

Boy Outa Brooklyn a murder-memoir by Jack Antonio 
Image: the smiling face of Steeplechase Park at Coney Island, Brooklyn
Available as an eBook and paperback
amazon.com
amazon.co.uk
And as an eBook here
https://books2read.com/The-Boy-Outa-Brooklyn