Ch 1. What I am
Every minority in the United States of America will experience some form of racism, at least every month, for the rest of that minorities life when they reach a certain age. Whether it's a derogatory name or a racial slur, there will always be stereotypes and hate for the minority. White supremacy will always dawn, and I guess that's always how it will be…
My name is Thomas Brown; I am forty-two years old, African American, have 5 houses, I drive a 911 convertible Porsche, own 6 other luxury cars, and have 8 sports cars. I'm the father of two beautiful daughters, one wonderful son, and an eloquent wife, and I recently just gave up being a drug lord. I fit the perfect description of the stereotypical nigger, but I gave up my previous occupation, not because I thought it was wrong or I was worried that "whitey" would catch me, no. I gave the job up because there is more to life then playing the bass guitar, listening to rap music, and selling drugs. But in the beginning; before things got out of hand, when I realized there was nothing that a mortal man could do, but pay taxes, and die. That's when I created the most powerful drug on this earth.
It was 13 times stronger than marijuana and crack put together. I hated all whites, for what they did to my family, for what they did to my friends, and for what they did to my ethnic group in the past and present. Notice how I didn't say future. I was thinking about the future when I put my plan together. My plan was to sell this new experimental drug to whites and whites only. If I could fuck the white youth up enough then maybe just maybe that will be the opening for all minorities around the world to rise and finely be a force to be reckoned with. When the white man's confused children don't want the pussy anymore, that's when the minority will have the opportunity to rise to the "Cracker's Pedigree."
The news of having the white youth corrupted spread like wild fire, and I soon had followers from across the US and throughout the world. So I considered myself a "Messiah" of sorts. A bunch of years later I quit and are now sitting on my porch remembering how I got here. All the memories of crawling my way to the top, all the people I killed, all the drugs I sold, and all the times I lied to my family.
You can hate me, but please understand me. And as I sit here in my chair I think….My god what have I done.