Ah, but is it magic cartoon spinach? I doubt it.

This.

People on the Right in the US currently have this very counterproductive, demonstrably false belief that there are Rules, that the courts must sooner or later hew to the Constitution and defend our rights, that centuries-old blackletter law can’t just be dismissed with a wave of the hand and a giggle, that at some point the laws of the land, as duly written and passed by the elected representatives of the people, must come into play. That the social contract isn’t in abeyance.

Anyone watching the (((legal system))) knows that this is pernicious nonsense. There are no rules. When you step into a courtroom, it’s Calvinball, with your life and freedom as the stakes–and Judge Feinberg and District Attorney Goldman, and your lawyer, that nice Mr. Katzenstein, have all already decided what the outcome will be, which will be played out with the maximum number of billable hours and minimum amount of kayfabe to appease an audience made up more and more of IQ-55 Turd Worlders, which decreases asymptotically year by year.

The (((System))) is not legitimate and has not been at least since Lincoln. You owe the State all the respect and loyalty and fealty that it merits as the biggest and best organized and best armed gang on the block, and not one iota more.

My apologies. I said “again” as a guess. It’s the norm for career violent criminals who have the Magical Melanin that grants so many rights and privileges the rest of us don’t have.

The first twenty or thirty times the typical career violent criminal robs people, people are so browbeaten and afraid of accusations of “racism” that no one even wants to call the police–recall that in some jurisdictions it’s now illegal for honkeys to call 911 to report Africans-in-America committing crime if no arrests are made–plus a certain proportion of the population are self-hating moronic do-gooder true-believers who won’t because “it could go on his permanent record and follow him the rest of his life.”

The first twenty or thirty times people do call the cops, the cops don’t want to arrest him, because they’re scared to confront a perpetrator who has the Magical Melanin, much less book one at the station, because the Department of Justice is looking over their shoulders, counting heads, and waving a finger under their noses every time they arrest an African-in-America. So Li’l Shitavious gets stuffed in the cruiser, rides twenty blocks, then gets turned loose with a sternly worded warning, which he has already learned means nothing.

And the first twenty or thirty times Li’l Shitavious sees the inside of the station house and gets a few free meals in the jail–this generally requires him to have done something serious in view of a cop, like dealing heroin, or arson, or armed robbery, or rape–the DA and the arresting officers pressure the complainant to drop the charges, because “the system is overburdened,” “it was a youthful indiscretion,” and so on. And if the charges aren’t dropped, bail is set at $200 and Li’l Shitavious promises to show up for his court hearing next month–and is then never seen again, and the cops don’t bother to look for him either, despite the warrant that gets generated, because “the system is overburdened,” because his social worker testifies and says “he’s a youthful offender,” because the DoJ says “disproportionate impact on Communities of Color.” Not until six months later, anyway, then he gets picked up on an attempted murder charge. And turned loose again, because the witnesses refuse to testify, because a judge says “he didn’t understand his Miranda Rights.”

And on and on and on and on and on. Li’l Shitavious has an IQ of 55, but behind his smirk, he knows exactly what the score is, and he may bitch about “racism” but he likes the way things are just fine. A hundred years ago he’d have gotten hanged by the neck until dead or a ride on the electric chair for the first violent conviction. Those who bitch about the barbarity of this are instructed to compare the violent crime rate in the US in 1900 vs. 2000.

Some majority-African cities in the US, like Detroit, have homicide clearance rates of 10% or less. Every spring when the snow melts they find decomposing corpses by the dozen in the rubble of half-collapsed buildings, and the Affirmative Action police departments and prosecutors’ offices don’t even investigate, because “ain’t nobody got time fo dat,” and they are written up as homeless people who froze to death–bullet holes and all.

Remember, it’s not officially a “murder” until someone’s convicted. You have to wonder what the real violent crime figures would look like in Detroit or Cleveland or New Orleans or Philadelphia, if they had halfway competent police departments and prosecutors who actually did their jobs, and actually reported truthfully. It really gets the old noggin joggin, doesn’t it?