White Like Me (Kinda)

Last night, heading home from work, I passed a guy who caught my attention.

Like me, he was white.

Like me, he had glasses.

Like me, he was tall. (I’m about six feet; he had about four inches on me.)

Like me, he was large. (He was on the high side of stocky; I’m overweight.)

Like me, he had a bare head. (Mine is an experiment in resignation; his was a political statement — see later.)

I’d peg him at around 20 or so, about half my age.

He was talking with some friends about the great time he had at a skinhead-organized event of some kind.

And he was wearing a “WHITE POWER/WHITE PRIDE” black T-shirt with some kind of Germanic or Celtic cross on it.

I thought about addressing him.

“Hey, punk. You wanna talk about racial purity? Well, I’m about as racially pure as you’d like. I’m Northern European on both sides, and I can trace it back at least five generations. Hitler’s ‘Master Race,’ as clean as you could wish for. And you know what it’s gotten me? An assload of genetic ailments. My gene pool is so fucked up that decades ago I went in for surgery to make certain I wouldn’t inflict my medical problems on another generation. But I’m 100% pure white, as ‘Aryan’ as you’d like.

“You know whose genes I envy? Barack Obama’s. That mulatto halfbreed race-mixer product of miscegenation, the half-black and half-white guy in the White House. 100% black, straight out of Africa, on his father’s side, 100% American white on his mother’s. And his children? Half his mix, half American black — which means they’ve probably got a helping of white genes there, too. Those kids are likely to grow up damned near indestructible.

“Look at nature, you idiot. Purebreds are messes. All kinds of ugly recessive traits show up when you get obsessed with bloodlines. The hardiest dogs are mutts. The hardiest plants are hybrids — especially those created by genetic engineering.

“You’re a dead end, you dipshit. You’re a loser, and you’re embracing the most loser aspect of yourself. You’re embracing the one aspect of yourself that you had absolutely no say in forming — your genes. Try showing you’re not just your pasty skin, but a complete human being.”

But it was late, I was tired, he was bigger, had friends with him, and I really didn’t want to get my ass kicked. So I said nothing.

Damn him. Damn him and those who believe like him.

And damn me for not confronting them.

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