The Weekly Screed (#575)

Carry me back to ol’ Virginny, 
or Mississippi, or Selma…
by David Benjamin

AUSTIN, Texas, 8 Sept. 2020 —  Nostalgia was as thick as blackstrap molasses on a steaming slab of Aunt Jemima’s shortnin’ bread here today as James Hood III was halted at the doorway of the University of Texas, in much the same style as his grandfather James Hood was confronted at the University of Alabama 57 years before by segregationist Governor George C. Wallace.

Only this time, the tradition-flouting African-American didn’t get in.

And this time, the guardian at the gate of U.S. higher education was one of the very Supreme Court members, Justice Clarence Thomas, who in 2012 launched the ethnic cleansing of the nation’s campuses by ruling for the plaintiff in the case of Abigail Fisher v. the University of Texas. That decision effectively ended the injustice of anti-white apartheid in its last bastions and brought America’s long civil rights struggle full-circle.

In that first clash in 1963, a president, John F. Kennedy, federalized the state’s National Guard to defy Gov. Wallace. But his time, the National Guardsmen federalized by President Gingrich were there to prevent the invasion of Texas by advocates of “diversity” and the riffraff of affirmative action.

For “real Americans” who have battled long and hard to “get our country back” from you-know-who, this was a moment of sweet vindication.

And yet, there stood James Hood III, black as a  coal-miner’s heel, trying to get into a school whose student body was, at long last, entirely white again (except for the football and basketball teams, and a few Chinese physicists in the Science Building). Hood claimed that as graduate of a Texas high school, as his class valedictorian, National Honor Society member and National Merit Scholar with a perfect GPA and an SAT score of 2400, he was as “entitled” as any Caucasian to attend the university.

However, as Justice Thomas pointed out, to applause from a large crowd at the gates, Hood had attended not a highly-selective private Christian academy but an inner-city all-Negro public school, “where they have to let just anybody come to class.”

Shaking a gavel in Hood’s face, Thomas said, “Son, you ain’t not entitled ‘cause you’s black, and you sho’ ain’t not entitled ‘cause you is DI-verse. Son, you jus’ plain ain’t entitled! And looky here at dis here crowd, shakin’ dey fists an’ carryin’ ax handles. You can sho’ see dey don’t want you ‘roun’ here. Why, hell, boy! Dey’s jus’ as likely t’hang you f’m dat dere sassafras tree ovah yondah as let ya go t’class!”

The crowd, at this point, went wild. Then, dropping the minstrel-show patois that Hood could understand, Thomas turned to his largely white audience: “My fellow Americans, eight years ago, four of my co-originalists on the Supreme Court joined with me to purge the false god — the golden calf — of diversity from the American way of life. We ruled then that people, regardless of race, color or creed, are happier, healthier and simpler among their own kind. Mixing people together can only end with our nation sinking inevitably into a morass of mocha-colored mediocrity.”

A cheer went up. Justice Thomas went on: “Think of what Starbucks — a company infested with liberals — has done to weaken and sissify America. What do people order at Starbucks? Cappuccino! Latte! Mocha! Is coffee still coffee after you’ve stirred in gobbets of whipped cream, cinnamon, soymilk and foam? Before Starbucks, our coffee was merciless, hot, bitter and black — like me! Coffee kept men awake at the far-flung military outposts of the free world. It kept America strong. A Starbucks nation is a nation of fat, narcoleptic, foam-slurping softies, asleep at our posts while mongrel musicians and barbarian hordes sweep across our campuses and manhandle our virgin daughters.”

The crowd’s applause was interrupted as Hood made a desperate dash for the university gates. Guardsmen caught him. Hood begged for reconsideration. “Look at me, Clarence. If ever there was a venti cup of black coffee — like you — it’s me.”

“Don’t you be coonin’ my metaphor, boy,” said Thomas. “And don’t even mention the fact that I’m a classic self-hating Oreo. If you got into UT, we’d have to reject less-qualified white brats who’d bitch that you’re only here ‘cause you’re black. Pretty soon, the whole Jim Crow hassle would start all over, and it would be 1960 again. Forever.”

Justice Thomas then introduced the student, Emily Drivensnow, who will attend UT in Hood’s place. He called her “the cream of Texas education, a lovely girl who reminds me of Abigail Fisher, the most historic civil-rights figure since Dred Scott.”

As Hood attempted to discuss this comparison, Thomas changed the topic, deftly proving why Miss Drivensnow is indeed more truly suited to attend UT.

“Boy,” he said, “you’re too skinny to play football. Can you slam-dunk the rock?”

Hood said, “Slam-dunk? No sir. I plan to study international relations with a focus on the diplomacy and strategic cartography of the Middle East.”

Justice Thomas led the crowd’s mocking laughter. Then he asked Emily how she planned to matriculate. She said, “Well, first thing I’ll do is join the coolest sorority, Chi Omega, so I can troll the finest fraternities on campus for the son of an oil tycoon. If I’m not married and filthy rich by my junior year, why, fiddle-dee-dee, Uncle Tom! I’ll be a disgrace to everything that white Southern womanhood stands for.”

To the cheers of the throng, a thoroughly charmed Justice Thomas gave Miss Drivensnow a big wet kiss on the lips, patted her on the ass and offered her a Coke. “Now THAT,” he shouted, “is what I call a college student! You go, girl.”

Thomas then shooed Emily into the University and faced the despondent Hood. He shook his gavel and said, “Now you, Rastus. You get yo’ black ass outa here. You go on back now to Tuskegee where you b’longs. And boy, y’hear me? You best study somethin’ a tad less high-falutin’ — a trade you can use t’make a damn livin’ — like weldin’ or tapdancin’. Better yet, work on your jump shot. Hell, if you turn out t’be the point guard they’re lookin’ fo’ here’bouts, you could end up at UT after all!”

To make sure Hood cleared out, an honor guard of Texas Rangers flushed him away with fire hoses and set loose a few police dogs.