Taking off the mask off of SBPDL for a second, I wanted to thank everyone for continuing to read this blog. I've been incredibly busy and have neglected putting together competent posts (and actually finishing a look at the TV shows Black people dislike the most) as of late, and I owe readers an apology.
Also, an apology for the delay in getting SBPDL: Year One out. It will be out in time for Christmas, so you can give it to all of your friends reading the new Stuff White People Like book and help them understand why these white liberals decide to live in cities with so few Black people. (I was just in Portland last night for a business meeting and visit Boulder, Austin, Athens, Seattle and other SWPL cities quite often and have to say there is a paucity of Black people in this locales.)
I've also come to the conclusion that there is something fundamentally strange about Stuff White People Like (SWPL) white people. It's hard to figure out what many of them actually do for living save sitting around sushi bars talking about all of the exotic locations they visit and the interesting art shows they frequent (gathered from dinner in Portland last evening and countless trips into the strongholds of SWPL white enclaves).
Turning around to look at the obnoxiously self-absorbed women chatting incessantly behind me (barely stopping to chew their dinner), I noticed a timid male companion with one of them. He didn't say a word the entire time and sat there with a pitiful look upon his face.
As I waited for my dinner companion, a SWPL couple was unpleasantly seated right next to my table and I nervously took a sip of my libation knowing that I was completely surrounded. It was eerily reminiscent of the scene from They Live when the two protagonists enter an elaborate party and realize that humans and aliens coexist in a mutually beneficial peace.
Only it was at this point I realized that peace with SWPL white people is truly impossible. My dinner companion arrived as I overheard simultaneous conversations all around me that could have been culled from the pages of Christian Lander's work (the guy is a genius) and for a brief moment a reprieve from insanity was granted.
There is something fundamentally unnerving about SWPL cities that no amount of natural nor architectural beauty can cover up. Sitting in one of the top restaurants amid a veritable paradise (Portland is extremely beautiful) and having dinner with one of the top financial minds in the Rose City, an epiphany dawned on me that helped put everything into perspective and erased any doubt about the road that Black Run America (BRA) seems to be perpetually going down: We are on a road to nowhere.
Let me elaborate on that thought with you tomorrow, but just know that I'm overwhelmed that the traffic to this Web site continues to grow daily (nearly 2,000 unique visitors, not to mention the near 1,000 that frequent daily!) and that a renewed sense of energy will be put into SBPDL. Thanks to Mencken for his continued efforts at making me look better with editing tips, but thanks to all of you readers who still read this Web site.
A road to nowhere. That's where we are currently headed.