Black Genocide

Black Genocide

The president was on a roll. He had this immigration thing down. He was righting wrongs. He had been doing some research, i.e., talking to cronies and hangers-on (“great people”). He had never heard of apartheid before and the word baffled him (something to do with not letting blacks live in your neighborhood, he gathered). He had the president of South Africa in his office in front of the cameras and was determined to let the truth be told at last. They had been killing the farmers, the white farmers, the black people had, many of them, some said thousands. It’s what they call a genocide—an old-fashioned word meaning “very unfair killing of good people who love their country, and are probably white, though there were good people on both sides”. The president of South Africa, as the president had learned, was part of this genocide thing (the word kept reminding him of pesticide). His government was probably behind it. It was a terrorist government, just so you understand, many terrorists in it, many. The white farmers had to leave the country the genocide was so bad. We were accepting them with open arms, no background check (not necessary). It wasn’t the whiteness, as the evil fake media said, but the farming—these were farmers, just so you understand, good people, we love the farmers. We want to bring back farming, like coal, asbestos, other rare earth minerals, and make America great again. Anyway, the president had the other president at his mercy—the base was going to love it. He was going to stop all the racist genocide going on in that country.

He started strong, announcing that there used to be slavery in South Africa, as well as gangs doing it. But the fake media had it all wrong: the slave owners were the black people and the whites were the slaves. In history, the president explained, there was a lot of this—like the Jews in Egypt. The Jews were white and the Egyptians were black or nearly black. In South Africa hundreds of years ago the blacks enslaved the whites—took them from Dutchland or somewhere nice. This is why later the white freedom fighters didn’t like living near the black slave owners and wanted to live apart from them (hence “apart-ite”). So now the blacks were killing all the whites who farmed, the president explained. He was thinking of invading South Africa to put a stop to this genocide. The president of South Africa smiled tolerantly as the president rehearsed this history and said simply “None of that is true”. At this insult the president brandished a handful of articles culled from the internet attesting to the widespread murder of white farmers. The other president shook his head and said, “The internet is not a reliable source of information”. This angered the first president considerably and he started shouting hoarsely: “They did it, it’s all here, everyone knows it! They are killing the farmers and eating their dogs! They are raping the farmers’ wives and possibly their daughters!” His face went from orange to red. The other president said, as if to calm the first one, “I wish I had a plane to give you” and smiled warmly, as if the president was making a joke. “I don’t need another plane, but if you have one, we can consider it”, replied the president.

It was a beautiful meeting, he summarized later. We had excellent talks about trade and I made clear that no terrorist genocide against white farmers would be tolerated. According to the president, the other president had promised to crack down on farmer genocide, especially when white. He had saved all white South Africans from mass murder—only he could do it. He reported that the other president had said, with tears in his eyes, “Thank you, sir, for saving my country from black gangs killing white farmers”. Of course, he had said no such thing, but the president was convinced that this was the upshot of the meeting. No one else could have done it, because of the respect and strength he showed. All in all, a good day in the White House (so aptly named).