The Trump Card

Tracy Morgan has declined to take my advice and fight his totalitarian-minded persecutors, and like a post-modern day Winston Smith, he appears perfectly content to declare his unabashed love for Big Gay Brother.

This is disappointing, but not at all unexpected. The desire to conform seems to run deep, especially among those who have become rich, famous, and successful. Once you’ve ascended to the mountaintop of such glorious adulation, it’s apparently hard to imagine doing without all the perks you’ve acquired in the process.

So Tracy has returned to Nashville, the scene of last week’s verbal transgressions, and put on his best Stepin Fetchit routine for the scowlingly butch and prissily effeminate bullies of GLAAD, as well as their legions of sodomic minions and “straight, but not narrow” fellow travelers. The grotesque absurdity of the entire spectacle can hardly be overstated; the dehumanizing degradation which suffuses Morgan’s Nashville repentance tour is as rank as the wicked atmosphere which no doubt permeated Tennessee slave markets during the antebellum era. Morgan is getting “owned” in the very region of the country where his ancestors were bought and sold years ago; only the masters, and the terms of ownership, have changed.

And who actually thinks Morgan has had a sincere change of heart in the few days between his rhetorical malefactions and his current fawning pleas for forgiveness? Those present for his willing self-emasculation surely know that, in his heart of hearts, Morgan must still feel the same disgust for homosexuality that he ever did before. Just the same, the reps of GLAAD must savor the power of knowing they can break a man’s will and spirit and shred his dignity at a moment’s notice; they are surely smiling all the while like cruel slavemasters, giddily anticipating the next occasion to crack their whips across the backs of all those uppity homophobes who still dare to resist their rule.


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There are a couple of observations that it may be useful to make at this point, putting the entire sordid affaire d’Morgan in social context.

The first is this: Morgan’s initial “rant,” as it was called (whenever the media doesn’t like what someone says, they disingenuously label it a “rant”), was a fairly typical expression of the mindset of the American Black community in general. Most blacks aren’t liberal in any sense of the word. They vote Democrat in droves only for reasons of presumed self-interest, because they see it as tribally useful; only Whites of a SWPL-bent vote Democrat as part of an overall desire to feel good about themselves, in smitten self-congratulation over their supposed enlightened sense of “tolerance.” Non-Whites, Blacks included, don’t tend to fawn before the “other,” nor are they in the least interested in righting any supposed historical wrongs; that is exclusive SWPL territory. They are eagerly ethnocentric in mindset, and thoroughly culturally conservative in temperament.

I have a couple of anecdotal tales which help give credence to this point:  

  1. The other day I was listening to NPR (yeah, I know; give me a break…I am White, after all), to that most SWPL of all game shows, Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me. The show regularly features a group of hip and witty guests weighing in on current issues; it is a kind of more cerebral version of Hollywood Squares or The Match Game. The time I tuned in, one of the guests had a conspicuously Negroid voice, which was unusual. This fellow had a harder time chiming in with clever rejoinders and repartee; I could tell he felt a bit out of place, an odd man out; I frankly felt a bit sorry for him. But when the host of the show shared a ridiculous story about an animal-rights group deciding that pets should hereafter be labeled “animal companions,” this man suddenly felt compelled to speak up. “I want my country back!” he declared vigorously, bristling with outrage over the priggish silliness of political correctness. Most studio audiences would have roared with applause at this sentiment, but the SWPLs in the studio audience only sat awkwardly; such populist, anti-liberal elitist rhetoric clearly didn’t sit well with them, even as expressed by the token Negro in their midst.
  2. Another moment of clarity struck me when I recently witnessed a black comedian (someone considerably less famous than Tracy Morgan) go on an extended tear against all those fools who oppose corporal punishment, or as he called it, giving kids a good “whoopin’.” This time, the audience--being a more representative cross-section of America than the public radio snobs cited in the previous example--went readily along with him, sharing the scorn he heaped on the pie-in-the-sky notion that children can be “reasoned” into proper behavior.

Both of these instances highlight the underlying reality of Black American culture, one I think most AltRight readers can admire; in spite of the obvious problems which plague and bedevil the Black community today, the bulk of Blacks seem to have no sympathy with the mamby-pamby, scoldy, schoolmarm-like atmosphere of effete, contemporary collegiate liberal-leftism. Most Blacks, in fact, are strongly religious, anti-abortion, anti-homosexuality, anti-feminist, and pro-capital/corporal punishment. These views, for better or for worse on their own merits, are certainly signs of healthy defiance against the increasingly oppressive Zeitgeist which weighs down upon us all. That is to say, unlike Tracy Morgan, most Blacks today refuse to be slaves to the cultural commissars.

But another, more illuminating note might be sounded with regard to the significance of Morgan’s plight when we consider the hierarchy, if you will, of thought-criminality in the contemporary world. For there is clearly and unmistakably a pecking order which has emerged as far as persona-non-grata-ship is assigned to those who make the mistake of “ranting,” that is, expressing a negative opinion about a protected group.

The lowest of the low are, of course, straight White, Gentile males. Nothing could possibly rehabilitate the career of Mel Gibson, to cite the most conspicuous example. John Rocker, a Southern White male, took more grief than most serial killers ever have when he spoke his views regarding New York’s ethnic and sexual diversity a few years ago. Nor does being a Jew necessarily work in your favor, as raunchy comedian Andrew Dice Clay discovered when his act ran afoul of angry and powerful interest group agitators back in the '90s.

If straight Whites are the fairest of fair game, however, it is clear now that straight Blacks aren’t safe either, at least not when they insult gays. Blacks are prized highly by the liberal left for their presumed “victim” status, but not to the extent that homosexuals are; the love that at one time dared not speak its name (and now can’t seem to stop shouting it hysterically) seems to trump a high melanin count for immediate assessment of righteousness in the trendy-left multicult paradigm. A prominent homo who made pointed remarks about various negative Negroidal attributes would surely get off easier than Tracy Morgan has for speaking ill of the queers.

On the other hand, even being a fabulously flamboyant flamer has its limits. Just think of poor John Galliano’s ordeal earlier this year. Even the cred of being a famous and totally gay fashion designer was of no help to him, when, in a drunken snit during a heated verbal altercation, he shouted that he loved Hitler and told Jewish patrons of a restaurant that they ought to be gassed. No quarter has been shown for Galliano since this incident; he has been fired from his job, prosecuted for hate speech, and pelted with merciless scorn and invective.

What does this tell us? That being from a favored group is of no help if you make a sarcastic, flippant or tasteless comment about either of the two H’s: that is, Hitler and the Holocaust. It is here that we finally reach the outer edges of that perilous region known as “too far.” That this should be the spot where the forbidden meets the truly verboten should indeed give us pause.