James W. Meng

Home/Resume/CV -- VLNLAB -- Projects -- Abuse by the United States Government -- Writings

[TRABLUMPKINS]

In early 2020, I returned from Bromont, Quebec, Canada, to Nassau County, Long Island, New York, to live with my aunt Kate. Why - it was the beginning of COVID and the Canadian government was trying to bankrupt me, force me to live in an homeless shelter, and kill me, because I had a totally legitimate asylum case. So it was time for me to leave, and leave I did, in my decrepit, rotting Chrysler Sebring, which conveniently blew its power steering rack out just before the border at Champlain.

Driving into New York City through the United States from Canada at that time was a lot like driving into Pyongyang through North Korea from Russia. I was nearly the only car on the road. While Canada was mostly telling people to be careful, in contrast, the entire state of New York had been shut down almost entirely. But, I got home to my aunt's house and we reunited and had a nice dinner with some excellent Quebecois red wine. And then I ended up staying with her and helping to run her law firm for over a year before being severely poisoned and fleeing the USA for political asylum, again. I even became a Notary and census worker and began running polling stations during that time - it was an amusing reversal, however temporary.

One of her long-running clients, whom I met a few months before his death from COVID, was an elderly man in his late 80s named Alfred. Alfred was one of her few guardianships. He had been brutally beaten in a schoolyard squabble on Long Island at around age 10, and remained at roughly that developmental level for the rest of his life due to a severe head injury, from which he never fully recovered. But he was otherwise an healthy man, a fair-skinned, light-eyed, wiry, gaunt northern Italian, who enjoyed watching and even reading about sports for the rest of his life. Alfred liked Kate, and her late husband Dan, and I, very much - but he was an old man, and the one thing that constantly had roused his ire while living in care facilities over the course of his life, was the presence of Black caretakers, many of whom were from the Caribbean."The niggers!" he'd say. "The niggers!"

I never heard Alfred say any of these things personally. It was all just lore to me. He had known my aunt for decades and had gradually softened towards everyone. Nobody was out to hurt Alfred any longer, though he was a victim, and he knew it. Nevertheless, old attitudes die hard. For my own part, though, relations with the White Anglo Field Peasant demographic of Occupied British North America were continuing to deteriorate. I had pit bulls sicced on me by psychopaths at the Census Bureau and then - once their organized crime had failed to scare me off from my day job as a census worker, I was finally wrongfully terminated by an incoherent Indian peasant immigrant by the name of Sumreen Dar while working in the Hamptons because I had worked one more hour than she had wanted to me to report and refused to offer that hour to the federal government for free. I was then fired, by her boss, a White Anglo Field Peasant by the name of John Culbert. It was just absurd. I was then illegitimately denied a wrongful termination lawsuit by a judge who had erroneously claimed that she didn't have jurisdiction. Eventually the WAFP director of the Census Bureau was replaced, but by that time I was long gone, taking lots of steroids to fix my left ear and hanging out in Istanbul.

To be fair, I had been using the N-word to describe white trash for a long time already. And the reason is simple. White peasants think in comparative tropes almost exclusively. It's almost as though the vast majority of the white population of Planet Earth, and particularly Anglo Planet Earth, were genetically engineered to spend their entire lives within a radius of about thirty miles, maximum. Their brains aren't just inferior, they're a total fucking joke. They cannot think clearly at all in any broader context. To be a white peasant is to live a life in a supercloud of brain fog. One could write volumes about this, in fact, but the prevailing attitude in the field of English linguistics, apparently, is to specifically NOT do that, or they send you to Antarctica for awhile:

Nevertheless, inspired by Alfred and with a general desire to right his unintended wrongs, I began trying to use the word Nigger (always capitalized) in a bunch of new and interesting ways, the intent being to repurpose the word so that its power could be used against idiots, criminals, and degenerates, rather than against people who just happen to have a lot of melanin in their skin. Nigger-Net. Nigger-Code. Nigger-Men. Nigger-Gays. Nigger-Man. Nigger-Plan. Nigger-Land. And so on, ad nauseam, essentially, the goal being to shock the reader more with the underlying idea than with the actual word, the hook.

Finally Kate asked me to please just stop using the word because of its offensive nature. And I, like a schoolboy caught with a few garden snakes in his pocket, reluctantly agreed. The New 'Nigger' had run its course - several influential twitter accounts, my widely-circulated website, other random social media, letters to editors, political figures, etc. It was time to move on. Every beautiful moment in time must end, for it cannot sustain its beauty forever. And so I mulled over the question of what to do next.

Naturally, what I came up with was what we usually do on legal and literary topics - get drunk on wine and rant. Here's what I said:

I received your response to the New Yorker article yesterday and, enraged by your ability to ignore massive overarching trends in hereditary male intelligence and the total destruction of the Anglo court system, I deleted it without opening it from a notification on my phone. It's like that time [redacted] put in his email signature that he had fifty years of experience in law, attached to a message where he conclusively demonstrated that he had no knowledge of estate law or debt law and had not even bothered to do a simple search for what I'd cited. Fifty years of what law exactly? I don't care how long you've been around if you're wrong. There are a lot of people in America who stand around and pretend authoritatively, but in law it still happens across state lines only rarely, and most American professionals are senile by European standards by their mid-fifties in any case. So in the "process" of my faux drunken rage I deleted not just your response but also the original email I sent, which is why this e-mail isn't part of a chain.

Let's just pick another word. I postulate, often, that despite a lower average IQ overall that is nevertheless gradually continuing to increase, Black people do not deserve to be called the "n-word". Meanwhile, white peasants, particularly those of Anglo origin who do not think clearly and always want everyone else to think in comparative tropes, have intelligence metrics that are trending downward, and this is happening more rapidly in the male population than in the female population because of the reduced level of redundancy inherently associated with a final pair of chromosomes, X from the mother, and Y from the father, that do not match up. So because it is really an earthshattering trend, driven both by the fact that the Anglo peasants can immediately identify each other's thinking patterns and decide who is most like themselves and make all subsequent choices accordingly, the driving force behind Anglo group behavior and their reproductive behaviors that lead to male adverse-selection in their populations, and by the fact that those peasants are inherently lower quality and less able people than the ones that can think clearly about people and concepts independently without relying on comparative tropes, I like to use the "n-word" about Anglo peasants. Anglo peasants are the new Blacks on Planet Earth today. This is measurable, Kate. The Anglo world is falling apart and their mass cognitive deficits and hostility to better people are becoming really glaringly obvious. They still can't even get a satellite in space.

During the Trump years I came up with a word that could be easily used as a comparative trope for the Anglos: a Trablumpkin. And anyone from Eastern Europe who speaks English at a good level will get it and laugh if it's explained. It's a combination of several things: