Satire: Confessions of a Recovering White Supremacist
Excerpt: But I must also confess that I am in something of a quandary. For what am I to do and think the next time I flick a light switch, pour a glass of filtered water from the kitchen tap, drive my car, shop at a supermarket with its laden shelves, make a phone call, turn on the television, visit the medical clinic for my tetanus shot and flu injection, consult my wrist watch, speak into a functioning microphone at the next academic conference I attend, ride the elevator, activate the AC unit that makes the humid weather bearable, use my credit card, click my ballpoint pen, work on the computer, cook on a propane-fired grill, shave with a handy razor, light the furnace against the winter cold, peer into a telescope at the local observatory, walk into a church or synagogue, buy a book with legible type, go to a movie, plug in my guitar amplifier, power my lawnmower, fly to Greece on a summer vacation, uncork a bottle of Languedoc wine and sip my evening Scotch, dine on salmon seined from the Pacific by white fishermen in perfectly engineered boats, buy a pair of comfortable shoes complete with tongue and uppers, listen to an opera in my living room, call a plumber to repair a broken pipe, deposit my earnings safely in a bank, rely on the rule of law and presumption of innocence, and so much more?
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