Radio hosts, Republicans, White Nationalists and Civil War reenactors nationwide are lamenting the looming death of white culture in what is quickly becoming a diluted, dangerous, multicultural America, and rightly so. This is no longer the country I grew up in, where a concerned citizen could shoot an unarmed, teenaged, Black potential burglar and go about his merry way. No, today that defender of white privilege might be eventually arrested, hauled into court, and then sent upon his merry way.
But there are other signs that white culture, the very definition of what makes America great, is virtually on life support.
For example, when I was a kid, we watched Lawrence Welk, the epitome of white music and culture. The entire show was so white that watching it could give one snow blindness, so mom made us sit at least two feet away from the TV. We thrilled to the whitest of dances, the polka. My whole family sat there, eyes glazed, tapping our feet spasmodically to what we assumed to be "rhythm." But before long, our heavenly Lennon Sisters (no relation to John Lennon) were replaced by the very Black Supremes and our beloved Myron Floren, the Happy Norwegian and undisputed king of polka accordion, gave way to Jimi Hendrix. Now one can hardly turn on the TV without hearing a Black person caterwauling, and even worse, white people trying to emulate it, however badly.
Of course square dancing, a dance that like the polka is reserved entirely for the dignity of the white race, was also replaced at this time with jungle dances like The Watusi, The Frug, The Monkey and The Twist. Warnings were issued by the clergy and other concerned citizens, but no one listened.
But maybe nothing so clearly reveals the death of white culture as does the changing cuisine of our country. Drive through cities throughout America and one will see Thai, Mexican, Vietnamese, Chinese, Japanese — even Middle Eastern restaurants, even though it's a well know fact that eating food made by Arabs makes one prone to changing one's name to Akeem, thinking that sharia law might be really good for Oklahoma and, worse, that maybe we shouldn't kill people that make such delicious food.
I won't even go into soul food, as I can't type and cry simultaneously.
Culture is defined by its food and its language. Try to go have a nice boiled chicken dinner. Go ahead. Try. And try to order it in English. You'll get Ethiopian chicken with Thai rice and tabouleh served with an accent. And when you complain about that not being boiled chicken, the waiter won't be pretending when he acts like he doesn't understand English, because he doesn't.
Yes, white culture is dying. But we don't have to quicken its demise. We can act. Twinkies are back in production. Who knows? Maybe Wonder Bread will come back. But until then white people must fight, even if it's a losing battle. Dance the polka. Listen to country music. Support NASCAR. Bowl. Vote for white people, however stupid. And remember, every time you take a bite out of a taco, you're taking a bite out of the dying body of white culture.
©2013 Kona Lowell