Black people are more biologically suited to the chemical conditions of modern existence than any other race on earth. They're supermutants built to exert intense displays of force, speed, and violence while their bodies run on the most putrid swill imaginable.
Black people will eat sour sugar coated corn starch shards and jelly melon kool aid syrup cubes, waylaying the incumbent waves of sugar rushes through a perpetually sustained train engine of weed smoke in their lungs that enhances their genetically granted subhuman IQ sloggery.
The core of their being is a series of biochemical tornadoes, all cancelling each other out into a chaotic stillness. Their hormone system is a nitroglycerin bomb that vibrates in unsettling anticipation for the most minor sensory input to trigger them into caving in an elderly retiree's skull into the corner of a trash bin at McDonald's.
Black people eat styrofoam and crisco while packing their kid's lunches with sour skittles and cornflour dust. They'll grow up eating nothing but candy, maturing into 6 foot tall ogres at age 13.
Much like slaves could pick cotton all day on a diet of pig guts and crawdads cooked inside a dirt hole for 14 hours straight, the modern black will pour an entire tub of sugar, salt, and rapeseed oil into their gullet before exerting themselves expeditiously. There are D-line tacklers on college football teams that regularly exert the daily Newton output of an industrial hammer mill fueled entirely by blue gatorade, nutter butters, and spicy dust sunflower seeds.
Beyond the taste, the vibrant colors suggest a childlike essence to their impulses. An eternal Shape Store out of the foods they eat, like a parade of Niggy Wonkas bedazzling their world in a technocolor fiesta of artificial flavoring. Divorced from any ancestral connection to their already pre-civilization bare mud culture, black people have borrowed the fruits of industrialization to invent something completely new beyond any scope of comprehension.
Black culture and its symbiosis of artificial elements and consumer products represents a natural organism completely adapting and thriving in the conditions of a post-industrial society. Rather than fighting against the entropy of biological health, they accelerate their own life cycles into rapidly dying and reproducing. Each wave of deaths induced through diabetes, gunshot wounds, crashed cars, heart disease, and prison stabbings slowly erodes against the barriers until they reach a state of equilibrium. They're much like orcs, consciously weaving through the limitations of normal human beings and carving out a niche of constant suffering and joy in abrupt oscillations.
As much as we despise the level of disruption they cause in society, their turbulence causes an extreme level of striving necessity that creates new elements of culture. They'll continue to slobber over pustules of aspartame coated pork fat and guzzle cough medicine sewer runoff, sprinting and hollering the entire time on all fours to climb 20 foot tall fences while being chased by the police.
They'll gather and howl and bluster and burn, exploding in a great societal supernova to beat their chest over the ashes of western civilization, corn syrup and Jolly Rancher malt liquor coursing through their veins. A brief reveille celebrating something they don't understand, ignorant to the dark storm cloud of Chinese slaughter cruelty and mestizo turboviolence pesticide coming from both flanks to eradicate them from modern existence.
And as is true for all fallen opponents in history, the traces of their spirit will reside on in the cultures that too replaced them. A chunk of pineapple marinaded in strawberry sugar as part of a 50-spice pot of boiling oil stew. A grunting ebonic element nestled into caveman gurbled Spanglish. Something not quite Asian, not quite white, not fully brown, neither human nor animal, embedded with wires stained in smoke. A shambler of the technopocalypes, sifting through piles of circuitry to rip gold flakes out for salvage.
A modern human in a time beyond your great grandchildren, r-type favela warrior jumbled beyond the comprehension of you or your fellow ancestors as you look down at him running, crawling, hiding, and evading killbots and acid rain. He chops a rat's head off before sprinkling gunpowder and chili flakes on its barely cooked carcass.
He rips bits of its flesh with fingers scarred by flechette-applied micro RFID chips, stuffing morsels of meat into a purple grape-flavored radioactive sugar simulant. Right after he stuffs it into a bare toothed mouth under an unshielded sun, you as his observant ancestor hear the ritualistic grace litany of his age and time:
Dih bih guh. Dah bih tuh.
Hockey players are allowed to fight because they fight with honor, drop the weapons, man to man, end it when someone hits the ground
Football players are not allowed to fight because they are the exact opposite. They will use weapons, they will gang up, they will stomp people on the ground
This tweet is not about hockey or football
The depth psychologist Carl Jung, possibly as early as the 1920s, based on a trip he made to America, predicted that American whites would eventually be unable to resist the heavy downward pull of the primitive life of blacks.
Jung predicted that whites would eventually "go black":
"What is more contagious than to live side by side with a rather primitive people? Go to Africa and see what happens. When it is so obvious that you stumble over it, you call it going black...
"The inferior man has a tremendous pull because he fascinates the inferior layers of our psyche, which has lived through untold ages of similar conditions...
"Blacks remind us not so much of our conscious as our unconscious mind—not only of childhood but of prehistory."
What Jung could not foresee at the time was that American culture would later celebrate integration as its greatest moral triumph and encourage whites to "go black" as proof that integration was succeeding, that America was the exceptional nation that had perfected its liberal constitution—creating, as Obama put it, a "post-racial" culture in which, as Michael Jackson sang, "it don't matter if you're black or white," since whites now behave like blacks.