Why Niggers Like Me Hate Liberals

Why the Left consistently loses the votes of so many poor people

By

David Gottfried

I wrote the following in 1994. Then I put it away and tried to forget that I ever wrote it. But it spoke to me from the graveyard of prematurely interred great ideas, and it demanded to see the light of day.

WHY NIGGERS LIKE ME HATE LIBERALS

I am not black. But I have AIDS. And that makes me a certifiable nigger. (This was written in 1994, when AIDS was a death sentence.)

When I was young, and did not have AIDS, and was, more or less, just another bright-liberal-New York-Jew who considered himself the embodiment of all things benevolent, progressive, and rational, I used to say -- and many of my fellow overeducated, snot-nosed, Bloomingdales Bolsheviks used to say -- with a certain smug certitude, "Why don't the blacks come out and vote for liberal democrats. Why are they so apathetic."

The AIDS crisis made me understand why people who really suffer -- because of AIDS, color or poverty -- absolutely, positively despise the very things and people -- in short, liberalism and liberals --which purport to offer help and solace.

What does liberalism mean to poor people? It means a vast, metastasizing New York City bureaucracy overflowing with utterly superfluous workers who are supposed to help the poor but don't do a damn thing right.

It means Welfare giving landlords three thousand dollars a month for rat-infested, one-room hovels. And it means New York liberal politicians talking about getting more money from Washington so Welfare can keep on giving landlords too much money for their garbage dump apartments. And it means a bullshit press which, in the course of talking about welfare reform, suggests that all us niggers on welfare are getting a free-ride from the welfare state when in fact the welfare state is the rich man's best friend because if you did not have a welfare state maybe the poor people would finally do what they ought to do: Charge down Fifth Avenue, past all those rich fancy stores whose very existence is an outrage -- whose price tags are nothing but a succession of insults that make you want to kill -- and throw rocks, Molotov cocktails, and grenades as the fires leap ever higher in the wondrous riotous night.

Oh, maybe it would not solve anything. The national guard and the Army would probably make mincemeat of us. But when you feel like I do, you really don't care if you get killed. Instead, you have the attitude of a Palestinian boy who, when asked --- In January 1991, during Desert Storm -- why he liked Sadaam Hussein given that Iraqi scuds could kill him as he lived near Israelis, said, "I don't care if I get killed so long as the Israelis get killed." On a less bombastic level, I don't care if Rudy Guiliani cuts my welfare check so long as he fires those condescending, degrading, infuriating caseworkers at welfare who make me want to get an Uzi machine gun. Or I don't care if the National Guard Shoots me so long as I shoot a bunch of filthy rich investors having two-hundred-dollar lunches.

To those folks whose liberalism was nurtured by the pompous old farts of academia (Godamn it, Spiro Agnew was right when he growled about "effete intellectual snobs" on the lame Left because you can't get more effete than a red ribbon or something called National Brotherhood week) and the tired, wrinkled prose of the New York Times, everything that I say smacks of the irrational. But they don't know anything.

And they won't know anything until they spend some time down at welfare.

Bread and Circuses and Tuberculosis

Come on down and see the legacy of Roosevelt, Kennedy and Johnson. Come on down and spend some time at the DAS office on Thirtieth Street and Eighth Avenue, which is my local DAS office.

DAS stands for the Division of AIDS Services, and it is the subdivision of the Human Resources Administration which dispenses welfare to indigent AIDS patients.

The DAS office on Thirtieth Street, like all welfare offices, is a dung heap. It is filthy, dusty, dirty, and guaranteed to give you a whopping dose of Tuberculosis. Although everyone knows that poorly ventilated areas increase the likelihood of TB transmission, and that something as simple as opening windows can make your environment immeasurably more healthful, the office is airless and the few windows in the place are stubbornly shut. ¹

I have suggested that we open the windows, but who the hell am I to say anything: I am a client, a peon who some liberals -- someplace in Georgetown, or Cambridge or Sutton Place, or wherever it is they all go to put on their red ribbons and hang out with Barabara Streisand and pat each other on the back for being so liberal -- decided to help. And don't forget the first rule of welfare liberalism: Since we have decided to help you, just be glad we're helping you, take whatever we give you, and just shut-up. And the second rule of welfare liberalism goes like this: Since you are a poor nigger on welfare, you are stupid and have nothing to say, so don't tell us about TB because you're not supposed to know anything about anything, let alone the existence of dangerous microbes.

Speaking of microbes, have you ever been in the men’s room of a NYC welfare office ? During the administration of Mayor David Dinkins (Since he was black, he was proclaimed as some sort of messiah by the bullshit liberal press) the mens’ room in the 34^th Street office was actually carpeted. It was carpeted by a slushy surface of shit and piss about half an inch thick. The problem was finally attacked in late 94 or 1995 during the administration of Rudy Guiliani, who was, of course, supposed to hate niggers. Maybe he did hate niggers, but at least he made people get to work, and during his administration, the 30^th street office was cleaned top to bottom.

As I was saying:

We welfare niggers are not supposed to know nothing about nothing because all of those liberals -- smiling at us with their unctuous, ugly, ear-to-ear smiles that are so full of shit -- have decided that if you have AIDS, and if you are poor, you are very, very stupid.

And if you're not stupid, you better start acting stupid, because there is nothing that a liberal hates as much as a smart nigger. They don't want to hear a nigger at DAS say that since he has a bad immune system, the fucking filthy place can get him very sick. They want nice, compliant niggers, someone out of a dull public television documentary celebrating the days when niggers were sweet, gentle buffoons, who were always getting lynched, and were always so very much in love with some nice white liberal from New York who promised him salvation.

They want a nigger faggot at DAS to say, "Thank you," after they have taken five months to process his application because their big, stupid bureaucracy has to pass his application on to seventeen different assholes who "work" at welfare.

They want a nigger faggot to say "Thank you," after they've sent him to a shelter, and a filthy welfare hotel, and the freezing cold street, and a miserable little Medicaid clinic which will lose his laboratory tests, and the 14th Street Welfare Office, which will send him to the 30 th Street welfare office, which will send him to the 16th Street office, which will then deny his application on the grounds that he is submitting more than one welfare application. (He isn’t submitting duplicate applications, but the referral to so many different welfare offices creates the appearance of submitting duplicate applications.)

And then after our miserable nigger faggot can't take it anymore, and has a major nervous breakdown, they'll throw him to the Butchers of Bellevue, which will conduct lab tests, and will then forget to review the lab tests if they don't lose them, and will then subject him to the examinations of twenty unqualified medical students who speak neither English nor Spanish, and then he'll get really sick, and then his AIDS will get worse, and then he'll die.

And then some liberal, non-thinking academician or lying politician will write the same tired article we've been reading for sixty years -- you know, about how great, benevolent New York City is starved for resources and just doesn't have enough money to care for all of its niggers -- when in fact our existent municipal services are the fucking thing which contrived with HIV to kill him.

Of course, a nigger faggot can go someplace else while welfare spends half a year processing his application. He can go to a private organization which specializes in assisting people who are all fucked-up.

Private Charities: Monstrous Matrons Oozing Condescension and Cluelessness

The do gooders at those organizations are so inept and out of touch that I thought that people like them only existed in the imagination of Jesse Helms. I went to one of those liberal groups, and they sent me to their site at the Stephen Weiss Free Synagogue. (I am being sort of vague about the group's identity because although those people were exceptionally exasperating, they were, I suppose, well-intentioned.)

In any event, the Stephen Weiss Free Synagogue was surreal. In the course of some sort of non-religious grace before our meal, the ultra-liberal female Rabbi told us all to celebrate Black History month.

The reference to Black History month made no sense: This was an organization which purported to help AIDS patients, and it was occupying a Synagogue. Although there were black clients on the premises, there were plenty of Latins and Whites there, and your White Jewish author could barely suppress his nausea at this obnoxious, clueless Jewish liberalism -- which is so adept at inspiring antisemitism and even fascism.

The Rabbi meant well by talking about black history month, but can't she see -- and when will you all learn to see -- that this sort of "benevolence" is sickening. Implicit in the liberal Rabbi's remarks is the notion that Black rage must be pacified -- again and again and again -- and it is precisely these attempts at pacification which are so infuriating.

It presupposes that if you are black, you are a mad man who must always be soothed.

We niggers infer:

1) If you are afraid of us, you must really hate us because no one likes that which arouses fear;

2) If you hate us, you cannot like us, and all of your professions of affection must be malarky;

3) Even if you do not hate us, maybe we should start hating you, because if you are afraid of us, it may be because you have wronged us; and

4) Even if we weren't making all of these inferences, we sure as hell are going to want to kick you in the teeth because no one likes to be looked at as if he's some sort of rabid dog.

I am not antisemitic; I think about my Jewish identity all the time and am Jewish to the core. But New York Jews and New York Jewish liberalism is European, ghetto Jewishness, and it is hopelessly neurotic through and through. Face it, Woody Allen is not funny, and people who are terrified of everything are pathetic. If Jewish boys were to read less, fight more, and talk honestly, it would make more of a dent in antisemitism than all the dinners and symposiums and studies and pounds of literary dung produced by the Anti-Defamation League in the past few decades.

Although Jewish liberalism is related to liberalism as it exists in New York -- and although liberalism itself might be inextricably related to Judaism and might indeed be nothing but a product of the Jewish imagination -- that is a book in itself. Back to the liberal Rabbi and how she helps nigger faggots with AIDS:

After she led us in some sort of grace, she invited us to look at sympathy cards written by nine-year-olds in her Hebrew School. I am not making this up: She told us that she had a bunch of kiddies write cards for people who are suffering and offered to show them to us and -- if we wanted -- we could even have one to keep.

Obviously, she must have thought we had a very low opinion of ourselves. If I am supposed to find cheer in a card written by a nine-year-old who does not know me -- who is writing to me only because he has been told to write a card for some unfortunate asshole -- I got to be pretty damn pathetic. And do the West Side liberals really have to wonder why no one -- neither the blacks in Harlem, nor the Orthodox Jews in Borough Park, nor the secular Jews and Italians in Long Island -- has any patience for their drippy, soulless, insincere, hopeless liberalism.

After the Rabbi finished making her pitiful, disjointed and practically incoherent remarks about Black History Month, sympathy cards penned by precocious brats from her Hebrew School, and her magnanimous bleeding heart, I asked her a few questions about religion. About my religion. Her religion. The Jewish Religion.

She recoiled from me. She recoiled with a jerky, spasmodic quality that I once observed after Ruth Messenger (A liberal New York City politician) gave a rousing, sock ‘em, belting black mama of a speech. While Messenger was speaking to the minorities seated in the audience, she was loving and passionate; there was no risk of getting close to anyone while she was on stage. As soon as she left the lectern, genuine communion with individuals existed, and Messenger froze, twitched and ran away. (A lot of people who are exuberant on stage cannot speak to people one on one. For example, my late cousin, the comic Gilbert Gottfried, felt at ease speaking about jerking off on prime time television, however, he was too shy and frightened to speak with ease when speaking one on one with me.)

Robert Kennedy once said that the nastiest people he ever met were New York Liberals. In lieu of loving people in reality or in close proximity to them, they will love distant abstractions, such as the third world, or the blacks, or some other such nonsense. (Maybe that’s why so many liberals come from such pathology-ridden families: They are so busy being in love with the third world or other abstract things that they can’t love one another)

In any event, when the Rabbi met me face to face, her purported good will proved to be as sturdy and as resilient as Matzoh balls. She did not care to discuss anything with me. One knew in a flash that all her words of compassion were lies. But even if they were not lies, what of it. Who wants to be liked or loved or admired as a form of exotic human refuse, to be fed and clothed and housed and promptly gotten rid of.

Of course, poor people recognize that liberals do not really care for them. Liberals, for all their claims of academic excellence, are notoriously thickheaded about these sorts of things, about basic human interactions, and do not realize that poor people realize that their liberal profession of concern and compassion is farcical.

Now if the liberal pose were only an impotent farce, perhaps we need not worry. But it is not impotent. It is a very potent farce which makes things much much worse.

No one wants to be a Jerry Lewis poster boy for AIDS or black poverty or drugs. No one wants to be a passive little client who is supposed to be eternally indebted to Big Brother. No one wants to be seen as a collection of social misfortunes.

No one can stand your goddamn charity.

In one of his savage, sexually surrealistic songs, David Bowie exclaimed, “The bitter comes out better with a stolen guitar.”

There is only one sort of interaction between an affluent liberal and a poor person which can heal the little peon. An interaction in which the poor person robs the rich liberal.

1. In the early 1990’s, NYC had an epidemic of Multi Drug Resistant Tuberculosis. In Elmhurst Hospital alone, 12 patients died of the malady within a span of just a few months. The problem was instigated and exacerbated by AIDS and, quite possibly, venues where impoverished AIDS patients spent much of their time, such as filthy welfare offices lacking ventilation.