What does Mass Dirt World Diversity really mean, on the ground? How does it tangibly, palpably, affect the lives of ordinary Heritage Americans?
This is how they take over. Political types always yell about how “Latinos don’t vote,” but given their numbers it hardly matters.
First, you notice that a majority of little children at the elementary school level are Latino. Then bilingual signs appear in the grocery stores. Then shitty little stores selling burner phones and money wiring services. Then a few fatal DUIs, often killing elderly White people or, as in the case of the guy who made A Christmas Story, a family. Then the local Police Department has a “Gang Enforcement Unit” and their budgets are now through the roof. Then the civil rights cases start, so your local cops start pulling over you going to work at 68 in a 55 zone, while studiously ignoring the beaner beaters completely out of code and not street legal.
Then there are zero White kids at the primary level. “Social Services” becomes code for “Free stuff for Latinos.” To the extent people are still walking around in your town, they are 4’11” latinas, each pushing three kids in strollers and each so pregnant they are wider than they are tall. Then the state comes in with the “women and infant children” program, congratulations, sucker, you’re paying for those kids.
Then the annual New Year’s Day story about “the first baby born here in X!” mysteriously always feature a blank-eyed latino couple, and the white anchors coo over Baby Rodriguez or Gonzalez. You begin to notice that you haven’t seen a White baby be the first born in the New Year for ages.
A few more years pass, and every service job imaginable is filled by brown people. The town you grew up in, with young White kids hustling to mow lawns, and local high school teenagers working at McDonald’s and Dairy Queen is dead as a doornail. In fact, speaking of fast food, you used to like to grab it on the go every once in a while but now ordering is an ordeal and the food always sucks..who puts that much mayonnaise on everything? (Answer: Latinos)
The new Gang Enforcement Unit isn’t doing too hot, so they need more manpower, bigger budgets, maybe hire a few consultants from the L.A. County Sheriff’s Department to help out. PTA and other school meetings are now held in Spanish, because 85% of the students’ parents speak Spanish in the home.
A few old family restaurants have been bought out. One–it was Jack’s Family Restaurant, you remember it fondly from when you were a kid–is now purple of all things and it’s called “El Pulpo – Mariscos” whatever the hell that is.
A few old bars are now hangouts, and one is Salvadorean and the other Nicaraguan and there are fights. People get stabbed. Fire Chief says he needs more paramedics, budget needs to go up, so property taxes go up again.
Local hospital is in crisis due to ER room write-offs in the tens of millions. They shut down. Now, if something happens, you need to go to the City, about 40 mins away, maybe 25 if the ambulance is going Code 3, but what if something happens? That was part of the community here. Now, it’s all strip mall “Urgent Care” places run by arab-ey looking “doctors” and rumor is that there is a lot of Medicare/Medicaid fraud going on.
Your high school, the one you lettered in and still go to all the football games, now has a metal detector at the entrance and two cops posted there full time. There are fights between the latinos and the 20% of students left who are White. The school counselors are now all bilingual and latino and they have posters up on their wall from strange organizations like MeCHA, that speak openly of “Brown Pride.”
You’re paying through the nose in taxes. No public benefits are going your way. Now, your youngest is getting to high school age and you’re thinking private school, but, Jesus, how will you afford that?
Well, it’s Sunday, so you’re not going to think about it right now. You’re going to watch some football with the guys while your wife takes the kids to the Aquatic Center for some swimming and cute pictures. Just not going to think about it right now.
And then you hear your wife pull up and the car door slam. She walks in all business, herding your three children in to go upstairs and change out of swimming clothes. You notice: no one is wet, or has been wet.
“What happened? Is everything all right?”
“No, it’s not all f**king right. You won’t believe what happened. I’m standing there juggling towels and floaties and the Parks and Rec guys are telling me it’s now $10 a kid for a day swim pass, so I roll my eyes and I’m digging in my purse to get my card out, and then all these little mexican kids go flying through the front door and I’m like ‘Hey, why aren’t you telling them they have to pay’ and the guy is like ‘They have red wristbands” and I say “So?” and he says “it’s a program we have here at the Aquatic Center for disadvantaged youths so they get the benefit of swimming and lessons in a safe environment” and they just kept piling in and I’m thinking we’re already paying through the nose in taxes, and now I have to cough up money for OUR KIDS WHO WERE BORN AND RAISED IN THIS TOWN so these people can swarm the pool for free.”
You’re hoping she’s done there, but she’s not. You can feel Sunday slipping away. The “boys” can hear everything going on, but you can bet your ass they’re staying out of this one. She continues:
“And there were so many of them, and they were SCREAMING AND YELLING and it was chaos, and I just, I just, couldn’t do it, so I told the kids we were leaving and I turned around and walked out of there. Then, before we get to the car, James starts crying, says it’s ‘no fair’ and that I promised we’d go swimming today all week, which is true”
And she’s looking at you, because, you know the deal, you are responsible for fixing this. You think. Or maybe she’s just venting. But you do what you can.
That night, you get the Sunday Night Blues and Monday morning comes around, and you’re driving into work and you’re looking around your town and you’re thinking:
This isn’t my town any more. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.
Am I racist? Jesus, am I becoming one of those guys. I sure sound like one of those guys.
And you’re stopped at a red light a few blocks from the office and here they come, slow walking across the crosswalk, two toddlers in tow, one in a stroller, and both pregnant, and both talking as loud as they can into two cell phones.
And you laugh, because hey, it’s all okay, because these people right here, right in front of me, them? They don’t vote much.
A powerfully effective rhetorical strategy for rousing the apathetic and unnerving the jaded until they apprehend the existential threat of Mass Diversity is the anecdote, an everyday lived experience recounted in detail so vivid you can feel the deterioration through the words.
