BANNED IN BOSTON: The Joys of Being Hated By “The Right People” Or How What I Didn’t Say Makes The Front Page
Well, Grandma, I’ve finally done it! I’m on the front page of the Boston Globe. What a damn shame you died too soon to see it happen!
When I ran my little paper route empire not so long ago — I loved you, Patriot Ledger! — I aspired to be in the Globe’s pages and made it in a few times for this nerdy feat or that small-town success that seems all the more dated now that I can’t quite remember what I did.
I used to walk by the Boston Globe on the way to Shaw’s or in the drive to my father’s warehouse and dream about what it might be like to work at the Boston Globe. But that was a different Boston Globe. The Globe which hunted pedo-priests and actually mattered. That was long before John Henry bought the Globe for less than he did his second basemen.
But today I am on the front page, above the fold. What does it all mean? I haven’t a clue. I’m not even sure any of it matters, except as an exercise in the futility of all media. I hate to be that guy but I’m going places, and there’s not much anyone can do to stop me.
I could do a line by line refutation and decrying the ethics of a co-bylined piece where I didn’t even speak to one of the authors. No, I must be denigrated as a “notorious troll” and quoted saying things I didn’t say. I have to be an “other” because I dared back Donald J. Trump for President.
I didn’t say black people are dumber than white people, but I did restate the argument of Charles Murray’s The Bell Curve on a podcast. I do find it much more plausible that specific racial and ethnic groups are on average not as bright as others rather than there is some structural racism.
I didn’t question whether 6 million Jews died in the Holocaust but did mention it to see if Reddit would shut down a subreddit (Reddit did!) I have always opposed criminalizing denying the Holocaust though. It’s not a good idea to criminalize cranks (or instead to give the state that power).
I wasn’t kicked off of Twitter for threatening a Black Lives Matter activist (Twitter publicly admitted that they kicked me off for my politics). And no, whatever anyone tells you, the OK symbol is not a white power gesture. Sorry, 4-Chan!
Am I friends with people who have extreme politics? I am indeed. Richard Spencer and I are friends. So what? Do I have to agree with everything my friends say to be their friends? Seems rather exhausting! Whatever happened to love the sinner hate the sin? Freedom of association means the freedom to make up your own mind and to try to find the good in everybody.
No, I am not, nor have I ever been a white nationalist. I’m not entirely sure I believe in nations at all but in a neofeudalism where billionaires war against one another and we are but their pawns (or rooks, should we be so lucky).
Do I like being white? Sure I guess but I’m a redhead and we redheads aren’t precisely loved among the white race, being as we are the subject of witch burning and bullying depending upon your time horizon. You win some; you lose some, and all that.
If I am a white nationalist, I’m a pretty bad one. I live in a supermajority Asian neighborhood — the white population is less than 5 percent — where my mixed race one-year-old daughter is learning Indonesian and Spanish as I teach her English. Some white nationalist I am!
No, my parents didn’t help me secure a scholarship at Milton Academy, I did that on my own with near-perfect grades and test scores. Shit, I was the student body president of my local public middle school. I was goddamn impressive if I do say so myself. I was a member then as now of Achievers Anonymous thinking that if I kept achieving, I might forgo the genuine pain of having a mother with cancer or a father whose business was failing.
No, my parents didn’t close the blinds on the reporter because they don’t own blinds. My parents’ home isn’t worth $800,000, and even if it is they are like many Americans who bought their homes and held on for dear life during a recession, depression failed businesses and unemployment. So what? We were poor not broke and all the annoyance of growing up in a home without heat or of working every weekend and holiday to stay there was worth the struggle if for no other reason than it made me appreciate the joy that comes from making your own money and being your own man and that something given has no value.
We live in an era of #fakenews and Lexis-Nexis prisons where the things you didn’t say are used against you, where what we say are stripped naked of context to be twisted and weaponized against us. It is precisely for these reasons that I have stood up for due process since my teenage years.
The Boston Globe makes mention of two incidents in my high school experience.
The first concerns a famous incident where five young men were expelled for getting a blowjob from a fifteen-year-old girl. Massachusetts did not have Romeo & Juliet laws and so the boys were expelled. It was a major bummer.
It’s true that I stood up and defended the boys who had been summarily expelled in front of the entire class. I was terrified of public speaking, but I knew that I couldn’t live with myself if someone didn’t make a case for these guys getting a raw (pardon the pun) deal.
Now frankly I found that a little weird and find it odd still. If there’s more than one dick in the room, I’m usually thinking I’m in the wrong room but hey who am I to judge? Milton Academy did, after all, have Bill “I did not have sex with that woman!” Clinton and Ted “Chappaquiddick” Kennedy as commencement speakers so the boys could have been forgiven a mixed message or two.
Lest you think me a prude, the girl in question became a friend of mine and even stayed the night at my parents’ house (in separate bedrooms, of course!) For some reason I neglected to tell my parents until after the fact.
The second incident occurred in October 2005 when Benedict Baerst posted the latest controversy du jour, this one about William J. Bennett and how he had been reviewing Freakonomics’s claim that abortion (mostly of blacks) had driven down the crime rate. Naughty, nasty stuff that but I didn’t participate, having then ambivalent views about abortion. (I am now 100% pro-life mostly because I believe civilized people ought not to murder their children.)
Baerst, like many liberal students at Milton Academy, liked to troll we young Republicans. Can’t say I blame him as we made for good sport. This Bennett discussion touched off a debate on the listserv that I moderated.There was much discussion about black and white crime rates, about differences in errr… aptitude, about how black students with inferior test scores had been admitted to superior schools, etc. You know, all that stuff we’re not supposed to notice in our national conservations on race but do anyway. Apparently, the dorms went ballistic, and there were death threats issued against white conservative students and no punishments meted out, of course.
I didn’t participate in any of these discussions. At the time I was too busy dealing with my mother who had cancer. While other friends of mine got cars on their 16th birthday, I spent my 16th birthday taking care of her and listening to her vomit from the chemotherapy.
My only contribution was to ask one of the students who said that America was a terrible place why she came to America from her native Jamaica. Seems fair, no? How can we make America great again if we’re not getting feedback?
Even though I had been promised by Robin Robertson — the school’s Head of School (or was it Head Mistress?) that I would not be punished, and even though the Jamaican girl who I had supposedly offended didn’t want to punish me, the cucked anti-white Dean of Students Rick Hardy had other ideas. He waited until Robertson was away and then brought me before a show trial.
I wasn’t allowed to call witnesses — a friend of mine’s black mom (he was a test tube baby) wanted to come and defend me, but she was barred from the room — and so I lost and began a process of hating the totalitarians who have taken over campus “justice” efforts. I have put my money where my mouth is and defeated the motherfuckers when occasion has presented itself. Sometimes fate gives me a helping hand. A few years later Rick Hardy’s home burned down and while I’m not a particularly religious man I do sometimes think that the Lord works in mysterious ways.
The punishment was to write about race from the perspective of a student of color. I interviewed Lucas Fowler, who is a black guy who dropped out of Bowdoin College because he didn’t want to be a token, and who was a friend of mine in high school. This irked Rick Hardy, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. I followed his rules and still beat him.
Now there’s the question of Alan Dershowitz who I regard as my first non-blood relation boss and adult friend. He was more than a mentor to me. He is a hero to me. I know that I can always count on him to do the right thing even — and perhaps especially — when it is unpopular.
I have defended Alan against all the smears against him, and he has returned the favor. We are not alike. He is many decades my senior, and we are neither co-religionists, nor politically of like minds, but we share a commitment to due process, to open debate, to Zionism rightly understood, and to intellectual inquiry. He has no doubt been told to shy away from me just as I have been encouraged to avoid someone who has been WRONGLY accused of sexual impropriety. I will never abandon my friends.
Alan’s memory on this might be a bit wobbly as it was thirteen years ago but I remember it like it was yesterday.
We met because I was “randomly selected” by Milton’s diversity director to debate him in front of the entire school some thirteen years ago. I was slated to play the role of the FBI director in a ticking time bomb scenario. He asked me a series of questions, and I answered them. Would I torture people to find the bomb? I said I would. Would I torture family members of the terrorists? I said I would but that I would start with the eldest family members and work my way down to their children to be humane. Suffice it to say these were not the sorts of answers that you were supposed to give, but Alan was delighted that I thought for myself. Later I participated in another seminar and interviewed him for the student newspaper. He offered me a job working for him that summer. In a way, I have never stopped working on the causes we hold dear. We speak more often than twice or thrice a year, and I would do anything for my old boss he would ask. I am proud to count him as a friend and particularly grateful to him for clearing my name when it comes to the slur of Holocaust denial or anti-Semitism even while I am being defamed by the Anti-Defamation League.
It cheapens anti-Semitism and Holocaust denial for the political left to contort statements I have made but I suppose the demand for Nazis vastly exceeds their supply…
Now on to who the Globe didn’t interview:
The Globe didn’t interview Frank Smith, who is my longest friend and who I housed for over a year while he was finding himself as a Hollywood writer.
Nor did the Globe interview Ryan Sebastian, who served with me in rocket club because he died of a rare cancer several years back. Sorry I didn’t call you back to congratulate you on that SpaceX job, my friend. I think of you every time they blastoff. To the stars my destination.
Nor did the Globe interview any of my teachers who found me without maybe one or two exceptions delightful.
The Globe didn’t interview the Haitian waitstaff I helped teach English to. It didn’t interview Tino from the pizza place who helped me do dozens of fundraisers for the less fortunate, the troops, and the hungry.
As for whether or not I’m that rich, well, I guess we’ll just have to see after the FEC filings come out, won’t we? 😉
If Milton Academy had been nicer to me, I might have been inclined to give them some cannabis cash or some of that sweet, sweet bitcoin but hey, they weren’t and here we are. Oh well! I guess they’ll never know how rich I am.
PS The reason Roger Stone couldn’t be reached for comment is that I threatened to sue him and told him that if he continued to make stuff up about me like how I drove someone to suicide in Mississippi, I’d come and take his house from him. I don’t believe in making the elderly homeless. Call it Christian charity or worrying about bad juju but I don’t do it, man.