“Ultimately, it’s just about resentment and hatred of white people. There’s nothing more to it than that.”
That was my immediate response to the cover of the September 9 edition of the New Yorker when I saw it a few days ago. The more I look at it, the more I feel my instinct was right. This isn’t harmless. Far from it.
Americans are subject, on a daily basis, to levels of anti-white propaganda that would shame Radio Rwanda in its squalid prime.
Of course, if you asked the artist or anybody at the New Yorker what the cover’s supposed to mean, I’m sure they’d say something along the lines of:
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“Oh, this is about the ‘invisible labor’ performed by persons
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