Rudyard Kipling, the racist cracker

Yesterday I had the opportuntity to do some research for a co-worker who is writing a story about an upcoming white supremist event. I can't go into any details about her or the event because she's going in undercover. You can read more about it in an upcoming edition of the Atlanta Creative Loafing newspaper. I was researching this particular folk singing duo named Prussian Blue, 12 year old twins that resemble Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen but have no problems bringing back the true meaning of picnic, if you know what I mean. As I worked through various sites about the pre-teen übertwins, I found something that alarmed me. According to their bio, they get inspiration for a lot of their song lyrics from the poems of Rudyard Kipling. My mouth dropped and I stepped away from the computer.

How could this be? Is it true? More importantly, What the fuck!?!

Thinking this would be a good sidebar feature, I dove head first into the world of the famous Author. For those not familiar with his works, he's most famously known for The Jungle Books and Captain Courageous. If you haven't read the books, you've probably seen his works on television with movies like Disney's The Jungle Book or Rankin and Bass' Riki Tiki Tavi. Aside from his books and short stories, Kipling was an acclaimed poet and a Nobel Prize winner for his accumulative body of work.

Skimming through his published poems, two which I found multiple mentions of are The White Man's Burden and The Stranger. After reading them I was appalled, disgusted and doing a mental checklist of anything I may own that he produced so i can coat in gasoline and set it afire. He'd do the same to me If I were a work of fiction...just sayin'.

The Stranger
The Stranger within my gate,
He may be true or kind,
But he does not talk my talk--
I cannot feel his mind.
I see the face and the eyes and the mouth,
But not the soul behind.

The men of my own stock,
They may do ill or well,
But they tell the lies I am wanted to,
They are used to the lies I tell;
And we do not need interpreters
When we go to buy or sell.

The Stranger within my gates,
He may be evil or good,
But I cannot tell what powers control--
What reasons sway his mood;
Nor when the Gods of his far-off land
Shall repossess his blood.

The men of my own stock,
Bitter bad they may be,
But, at least, they hear the things I hear,
And see the things I see;
And whatever I think of them and their likes
They think of the likes of me.

This was my father's belief
And this is also mine:
Let the corn be all one sheaf--
And the grapes be all one vine,
Ere our children's teeth are set on edge
By bitter bread and wine.


Obviously times were different, but a supposedly intelligent and sophisticated literati like Kipling who openly admits and promoted racial supremacy escaped me for a minute. Naturally, as a black man, I withdraw to my comfort zone, donning my psuedo afro (with steel toothed pick), my imaginary nunchucks and brass knuckles to do battle with "whitey." But my question is how do I get back at this Nobel prize winning peckerwood? The only solution I have at the moment is awareness, I would love to have his Nobel prize revoked too, but is that even possible? I read on the BBC website that there is a growing controversy about the topic, I'll keep abreast of the situation and let you know. In the meantime, read the poems and judge for yourself what punishment fits his heinous crime.

I'd say "Die, bastard die," but that fuckin' prick is already feeding worms. I hope they build a port-a-potty over his grave and blacks can just go all over his prejudice ass.