Racists & Racism -- a problem?

On the American Renaissance website there has a lively discussion in recent days on Racism, Racists and whether it is a problem, and whose problem.

Our race submits to an extinction inflicted on itself by its own members, the most neurotic and baleful crusade in human history. But try to imagine the facial expressions that will be seen on the faces of egalitarians when it is too late, and they at last are forced to understand what they have done to their descendants.

Western civilization compares to Toynbee's other 16 discernible civilizations in about the same way that opera compares to rap, or Dostoevsky to Norman Mailer, or Bosch and Bruegel to finger painting.High civilizations cannot be sustained by a random sampling of the world's peoples, nor even by a majority of Caucasians.

Truth is, our civilization depends utterly on a critical mass of the sort of people who participate in these forums, a very tiny minority of vulnerable souls who on current evidence seem destined to be swallowed whole by the racial sewage pounding on the city walls. I think we ought to stop pretending that we are not racists.

Racism is an attitude and a philosophy that is easily to be defended, as well as having served 99% of the species over 99% of historical time. I am no more bothered by accusations of racism than of vegetarianism, or of prefering mayonnaise to butter. At one time homosexualism was deemed unspeakable, but now is lauded everywhere and almost required in some quarters. Racism needs to be made respectable, too.

I, personally, would prefer human life to come to an end than to see it sink to the level of New York,Mexico, sub-Saharan Africa, or Hollywood, where current ideals are much worse than nothing at all. In spite of everything however, I do see at least a few causes for hope, namely Alex, Richard, Derby, Jared, etc., etc. - some hundred or more bright brilliant souls.

http://amren.com

Descent of the Species

"Out there it’s the 1990s, but in this house, it’s 1954.” Mentioned, sarcastically, by the mentally ill Maureen Dowd of the new York Times,


That same 1954 when America was on top of the world, when a man could support his family on one salary alone, when our demographic was 90% white and mostly civilized, when drug use was the habit of a few jazz musicians in NYC and almost no one else, when women wanted to be women and weren't trying to play badmitten on a tennis court, when black people had not yet been thrown into an unwinable economic competition with white people and their crime rate was only two or three times as lofty as that of Caucasians? When a fair number of their children had an identifiable father and immigration was restricted to people who could have a reasonable expectation of adopting western values, when we had Faulkner and Hemingway instead of the banality of chick lit and preening lady authors who know how to toe the p.c. party line, when we were the most admired people on earth instead of the most detested, when our schools actually conveyed knowledge instead of approved platitudes, when our most emminent newspaper hadn't yet overdosed on anti-white agitprop, when someone like our extraordinarily sophisticated Ms. Dowd would have been seen for what she is - a person who had rather have a kidney replacement than to miss a Woody Allen film?
Better to have one day of life in 1954 than immortality in the world of The New York Times.

The Node