The summer of 1972 I worked the night shift at a food warehouse in Pacoima, in LA’s San Fernando Valley. There were about 30 guys on my shift, and maybe half a dozen were Anglo. Most of these strong young men were black or Mexican. I made it my business to get along with them, and I did.
I hung out with a few of these black guys, me and another white guy named Buck Jump. We went to the races at Santa Anita, watched the Olympics on TV. I got to know these guys pretty well. They weren’t real fond of white people, but if you earned their respect, you could get along with them just fine.
I bring this up because of the whole Iran deal. If you want to know what it all means, read Peter Zeihan’s latest.
I’m interested in the political fallout, and I’m here to testify that Trump’s approval rating with black men is going to go up. As far as those black guys I knew are concerned, Trump just killed another white dude. A foreigner, a punk. He won’t sacrifice one more American life, white black or brown, to appease those crazy Iranians.
Trump is turning into a white man a brother can respect.