In news that will surprise absolutely no sane person, the corrupt senile war criminal and so called “president” of the Imperialist States of Amerikastan, Joe Biden Bidet, has decided to reverse Donald Twitterführer Trump’s so-called plans, or promises, or half articulated thoughts about withdrawing from Afghanistan and illegally occupied East Syria. The “rationale” for this is that Amerikastan must stay there to “fight ISIS”. Obviously, if Amerikastan has to fight ISIS, there have to be ISIS to fight, and – by a total coincidence, I’m sure – ISIS is suddenly swarming over areas where they had been extirpated from by the Syrian army years ago, and bombing Kabul as well. Absolute and total coincidence, I tell you!
Meanwhile the Bidet regime is also making moves to declare al Qaeda in Syria (which nowadays calls itself Hayyat Tahrir al Sham) not a “terrorist” organisation. This would hardly be a surprise, since it’s already declared al Qaeda affiliate the Turkistan Islamic Party (of Uighur jihadi headchoppers) not terrorists.
As such, both ISIS and al Qaeda must be overflowing with gratitude to Bidet, and since it wouldn’t exactly be decorous for them to send him a Valentine, I did it for them.
(Apologies for the recent lack of writing and cartoons. I have had health problems, and I actually drew this with a strapped up right wrist. I hope Bidet is grateful, or at least “wins” the Nobel Peace Prize. Why not?)
Reaction from anyone who’s been reading this strip only after 2015: “Who the hell are Raghead and Towelhead?”
Raghead and Towelhead were the first two characters on this strip, who virtually monopolised it during the early days. I was far from comfortable drawing faces back then, which is why their faces are never shown. Over time they fell into disuse, supplanted by Jihadi Colin and Jihadi Rose, but they never quite went away. I was always thinking that at some point I would bring them back again, and with the war in Nagorno Karabakh, I thought, why ever not?
Those who do remember these two will note that while I kept their basic character designs, I have changed their kaffiyehs, from checked for Raghead and banded for Towelhead, to plain colours. The reason is simple: I’m lazy. That’s also why I reverted to black and white after many years, because I simply don’t have the energy to sit up for hours colouring. And as far as the appearance goes, I tried out the grainy look that was until 2015 standard for almost all cartoons I did (for those who are interested, it’s Woodcut on Corel Paint), but it was simply not what I wanted to do anymore. So, though I stuck to my intention of black and white, I chose the “clean” look (it’s Distress on Corel Paint), and then put in a few shades of grey. I hope you like it.
A word about Nagorno Karabakh. I believe that the moment the war was actually permitted to start, Armenia was already defeated. I believe that the war should not have been permitted to start. And now, with the Nagorno Karabakh capital of Stepanakert (as I write this) cut off and besieged, I believe that the best thing the Armenian side can do is negotiate surrender on the best terms available. Anything else is just going to cause a bloodbath and the end will be the same anyway.
But assuming they don’t, Raghead and Towelhead will definitely feature again on this site. Bigly!
“So you have two types of Negro. The old type and the new type. Most of you know the old type. When you read about him in history during slavery he was called “Uncle Tom.” He was the house Negro. And during slavery you had two Negroes. You had the house Negro and the field Negro.
The house Negro usually lived close to his master. He dressed like his master. He wore his master’s second-hand clothes. He ate food that his master left on the table. And he lived in his master’s house–probably in the basement or the attic–but he still lived in the master’s house.
So whenever that house Negro identified himself, he always identified himself in the same sense that his master identified himself. When his master said, “We have good food,” the house Negro would say, “Yes, we have plenty of good food.” “We” have plenty of good food. When the master said that “we have a fine home here,” the house Negro said, “Yes, we have a fine home here.” When the master would be sick, the house Negro identified himself so much with his master he’d say, “What’s the matter boss, we sick?” His master’s pain was his pain. And it hurt him more for his master to be sick than for him to be sick himself. When the house started burning down, that type of Negro would fight harder to put the master’s house out than the master himself would.
But then you had another Negro out in the field. The house Negro was in the minority. The masses–the field Negroes were the masses. They were in the majority. When the master got sick, they prayed that he’d die. [Laughter] If his house caught on fire, they’d pray for a wind to come along and fan the breeze.
If someone came to the house Negro and said, “Let’s go, let’s separate,” naturally that Uncle Tom would say, “Go where? What could I do without boss? Where would I live? How would I dress? Who would look out for me?” That’s the house Negro. But if you went to the field Negro and said, “Let’s go, let’s separate,” he wouldn’t even ask you where or how. He’d say, “Yes, let’s go.” And that one ended right there.
So now you have a twentieth-century-type of house Negro. A twentieth-century Uncle Tom. He’s just as much an Uncle Tom today as Uncle Tom was 100 and 200 years ago. Only he’s a modern Uncle Tom. That Uncle Tom wore a handkerchief around his head. This Uncle Tom wears a top hat. He’s sharp. He dresses just like you do. He speaks the same phraseology, the same language. He tries to speak it better than you do. He speaks with the same accents, same diction. And when you say, “your army,” he says, “our army.” He hasn’t got anybody to defend him, but anytime you say “we” he says “we.” “Our president,” “our government,” “our Senate,” “our congressmen,” “our this and our that.” And he hasn’t even got a seat in that “our” even at the end of the line. So this is the twentieth-century Negro. Whenever you say “you,” the personal pronoun in the singular or in the plural, he uses it right along with you. When you say you’re in trouble, he says, “Yes, we’re in trouble.”
But there’s another kind of Black man on the scene. If you say you’re in trouble, he says, “Yes, you’re in trouble.” [Laughter] He doesn’t identify himself with your plight whatsoever.”
Malcolm X, speech at Michigan State University, 23 January 1963.
Growing up as a child of the Cold War, in the 1970s, I was always taught that American blacks – oppressed by the white ruling class – were our natural allies against the Amerikastani Empire. I was so inculcated in this concept that even a black athlete would immediately command my support against a white athlete, no matter where the latter was from. It wasn’t racism. It was solidarity. Muhammad Ali was a revered hero. Malcolm X, whose autobiography I read in my twenties, is still someone whose shadow I am not worthy to walk on.
So where are those American blacks today? Where are those brave men and women who stood against the system? What kind of person mass votes for house negroes like the blood soaked war criminal Barack Hussein Obama, or for the megalomaniacal mass murderer Killary Clinton, who called blacks “super predators”, locked them up en masse, looted Haiti, and destroyed Libya so that blacks are sold as slaves there?
I no longer have any greater sympathy or understanding of such people than I have of any other Amerikastani. They’re not black Amerikastanis, they’re just Amerikastanis. As ignorant, bigoted, stupid and brainwashed as any other.
“They hate our freedoms: our freedom of religion, our freedom of speech, our freedom to vote and assemble and disagree with each other.”
– George W Bush, Amerikastani war criminal and now liberal hero, friend of Ellen DeGenerate, who invaded Iraq on a lie, totally destroying religious freedom there, and who through his stint in power supported such scum as the Saudi Barbarian headchopper regime, Saparmurat Niyazov of Turkmenistan, and Paul Kagame of Rwanda, under whom there was and is no freedom of anything at all.