I think she was counting on the votes of the Negroes and the Mexicans, but we only have two Negroes in town, and four Mexicans...

A Letter from Miss Harriet Tubman, Kansas, 1954:

Our election nightmare is finally over. We had a woman -- a Woman! From New York City, no less! -- running for Mayor, but -- Thank The Lord -- she lost. I think she was counting on the votes of the Negroes and the Mexicans, but we only have two Negroes in town, and four Mexicans...

Ever since my Husband passed away I have had to figure out who to vote for by myself: I try to vote in the way he would've wanted me to, and I hope I have made him proud in Heaven...

I don't understand why women who have never married are allowed to vote: Without a man in their lives they are only going to vote for childish, girlish things, because that is all they know. I don't know: maybe the Government will come to its senses and correct the single Women Voting problem -- one can hope...

Our new Mayor is a strong man, and he has talked big about our town fixing its sewage problem, Thank The Lord. Some days the smell is so bad you'd think you are in Godforsaken Mexico...

I bet the single women don't even have a clue on how to fix this problem; I am so grateful we have Our Men to do The Right Thing, and I hope the single women would be at least kind enough to help wash up, afterwards...

Sincerely,

Harriet.

I can only pray our Government will take care of this problem.

I am Laslo.

https://althouse.blogspot.com/2016/11/notwithstanding-election-days-white.html

In 1943 we lost Chester Dewey to the Nazis and in 1944 we lost Ben Anderson to the Japs.

A Letter from Miss Harriet Tubman, Kansas, 1954:

No, I am not THAT Harriet Tubman. 

In 1917 our little Town lost Johnny Hanson to the Krauts.

In 1943 we lost Chester Dewey to the Nazis and in 1944 we lost Ben Anderson to the Japs.

Just last year we lost our Wesley Brook to the Commies in North Korea.

On this Memorial Day I hope and pray the rest of the world can take care of their own problems for awhile and leave our boys at home.

I would write a longer letter, but I'm needing to gather flowers for the Memorial...

Sincerely,
Harriet.


I am Laslo.


https://althouse.blogspot.com/2016/05/memorial-day.html

No one wants to hang a new Father, but there are standards to be upheld.

A Letter from Miss Harriet Tubman, Kansas, 1954:

No, I am not THAT Harriet Tubman. 

Everyone in Town is talking about Debbie Ann. Sweet young girl, she won the Miss Sweetheart competition at last year's Town Fair.

Then, over the last few months, she began to gain a lot of weight. She went from being a slender slip of a girl to a butterball, and everyone wondered what was going on: she was certainly too young to be that fat, you can't let yourself get that fat until you are older and have a Husband.

Well, it turns out she wasn't getting fat, she is pregnant. Miss Sweetheart of the Fair, unmarried and pregnant: of course the Town is in a dither.

No one knows who the Father is, but everyone has their own suspicions. We can only be sure it isn't Charlie Ross, because he lost his testicles in the war, bless his poor soul.

I was thinking about this, and the time she would've got pregnant was about the same time the Mexicans came to town.

It is horrible to even think about: if the baby comes out even looking half-Mexican there will be Trouble. No one wants to hang a new Father, but there are standards to be upheld.

I pray that the baby is born healthy and really, really white.

Sincerely,

Harriet.

I am Laslo.

https://althouse.blogspot.com/2016/05/the-problem-of-winning-miss-universe.html

As I said: I started gagging, and then woke up with my jaw hurting and saliva everywhere.

A Letter from Miss Harriet Tubman, Kansas, 1954:

No, I am not THAT Harriet Tubman. 

Oh Lord help me, it is now in my dreams.

I woke from a frightful sleep, sweating and gagging.

A Mexican Devil Cock was writhing and spitting and chasing me, and it kept trying to slide its Devil Way into my tiny pale white mouth.

I kept my mouth closed and clenched as tight as I could, I truly did, but it kept pushing and pushing at it, relentless, rubbing on my lips in a way that sends shivers through my legs.

Then a magnificent stout Negro entered my dream and slapped the Mexican Devil Cock away with his big strong arms, and then he put his Negro Cock in my mouth so that the Mexican Devil Cock couldn't make any trespass, like a big, big cork in the little narrow neck of a wine bottle.

As I said: I started gagging, and then woke up with my jaw hurting and saliva everywhere.

Lord, what are you trying to tell me? Do I trust my Dream Negro, or is that the Devil, too?

Help, me Lord, I am adrift.

Sincerely,

Harriet.

I am Laslo.

https://althouse.blogspot.com/2016/05/something-that-infuriated-him-he-said.html

Some people say if you kill the Mexican the Mexican Devil Cock will live on, while others say it is like killing a Negro and then all the parts is done dead.

A Letter from Miss Harriet Tubman, Kansas, 1954:

No, I am not THAT Harriet Tubman. 

I keep thinking it can't get worse, and then worse it does.

Evidently, one of Mr. Hampton's Mexicans showed his Mexican man parts to Louisa Evers, of the Evers Lumber family. The Evers gives good wood to everyone in these parts.

Now, no one knows if Louisa has ever seen a man part before, on account of her being so unhealthy and thickly, but she described it in detail, and it certainly sounds like a man part, even a Mexican one of which I myself have never seen. To point that out.

She says she saw a devil in his hands, like a snake with a dead blank eye, and the Town Men said that is surely a Mexican Devil Cock.

Needless to say, the Town is in a dither. Some people say if you kill the Mexican the Mexican Devil Cock will live on, while others say it is like killing a Negro and then all the parts is done dead.

I hope the Lord guides us through this Time of Trouble. I can only assume that the Mexican Devil Cock is God testing us, but I sure don't know what it all means.

Sincerely,

Harriet.

I am Laslo.

https://althouse.blogspot.com/2016/05/something-that-infuriated-him-he-said.html

I will never marry a Mexican, no matter his skills; nor will I bake him a pie.

A Letter from Miss Harriet Tubman, Kansas, 1954:

No, I am not THAT Harriet Tubman. 

Mr. Hampton the Grocer is now going about town saying the only problem with his hiring Mexicans is the towns-women.

Like us women get the power to decide anything.

Drunk husbands and drunk Mexicans: we see the difference.

The men like to act like they are taking the town-women's feelins into account, then the Chinks and the Negroes and the Mexicans come in.

Our town does NOT need the Chinks and the Negroes and the Mexicans, we just need the Leaders of this Town to recognize the Needs of White Men.

I will never marry a Mexican, no matter his skills; nor will I bake him a pie.

I baked a pie once for the Chink at the Laundry once, but that is because she got that stubborn stain out.

I'm starting to think the Men can't do anything right without a woman leading the way.

I bet Mexican women probably feel this way too, bless their souls.

I am Laslo.

https://althouse.blogspot.com/2016/05/whats-it-in-trumps-women-get-it-better.html

No self-respecting white woman will even go near.

A Letter from Miss Harriet Tubman, Kansas, 1954:

No, I am not THAT Harriet Tubman. 

I don't know what is happening here.

It is May Fifth, and our Town's two Mexicans are whooping it up in Town Square, drinking and saying things in Mexican. Mexicanian? Whichever.

No self-respecting white woman will even go near.

I wonder if their is a day like this when the Negroes get all uppity, but we don't have Negroes in our town so I wouldn't know what that would be.

Even the Chinks at the Laundry seem upset.

Is this what America is coming to? Mexicans everywhere, hooting and hollering?

I can only pray our Government will take care of this problem.

I am Laslo.

https://althouse.blogspot.com/2016/05/at-red-white-and-blue-cafe.html

I am ashamed of our town's Men Folk for even letting this be considered.

A Letter from Miss Harriet Tubman, Kansas, 1954:

No, I am not THAT Harriet Tubman. 

I fear for my little town. 

Mr. Hampton -- the Grocer who hired the first Mexican -- is talking now about us needing to widen Main Street so he can expand his Store.

Why a bigger store, Mr. Hampton? How many more Mexicans do you plan to hire, instead of the white town folk who could use a stable job?

And Main Street: isn't it just beautiful as it is? Do we really need to raze the Chink's Laundry to make more room? They work hard, despite God making them yellow and all.

None of the white folk in town are going to want to tear down our beloved Main Street. What are you going to do -- hire Negroes?

I am ashamed of our town's Men Folk for even letting this be considered. 

When I was a girl the Men were men: now, I wonder.

Sincerely,

Harriet.

I am Laslo.

https://althouse.blogspot.com/2016/05/its-100th-anniversary-of-birth-of-jane.html

Little Bridget Parker was walking home from town when she encountered one of the Mexicans, just loitering and drinking a Coke.

A Letter from Miss Harriet Tubman, Kansas, 1954:

No, I am not THAT Harriet Tubman. 

I never thought I'd live to see such bad things befall our little town. Yes, it's the Mexicans, again.

Little Bridget Parker was walking home from town when she encountered one of the Mexicans, just loitering and drinking a Coke. Bridget said the Mexican said "Hello", then looked at her with Rape In His Eyes.

Well, she actually said he looked at her "kinda funny" but we know what that means when it is a Mexican male looking at an adorable little white girl.

We tried to find out which of the Mexicans it was, but she was afraid and could only say that he was missing several teeth. Unfortunately, both the Mexicans in town are missing several teeth. I mean, even most Negroes know to clean their teeth, I suspect. But poor oral hygiene is the least of our worries, now.

We can't have Mexicans just going around town with Rape In Their Eyes, it will only lead to something much, much worse -- I don't even want to think about it.

If the Government and the Police won't do anything about then maybe it is time for the Menfolk here in town to step up to their responsibilities: it's been a long time since the unfortunate 'The Drifter Incident'. I'm sure they can tie better knots, now.

It shouldn't have to be this way, but I have lost all faith in Society.

I am Laslo.

http://althouse.blogspot.com/2016/05/bumble-bee-in-lungwort.html

There was a burglary, and there are Mexicans in town: it seems pretty straightforward to me.

A Letter from Miss Harriet Tubman, Kansas, 1954:

No, I am not THAT Harriet Tubman. 

It was bound to happen. Mrs. White's house got broken into and she had pantry supplies stolen. And a pie. Mrs. White makes a great rhubarb pie, everyone knows that.

And everyone knows it was the Mexicans, because we don't have any Negroes around.

Unfortunately, Police Chief Roberts said he couldn't do anything about it because there was no evidence, and all he could do was rough them up a bit. It's nice that he roughed them up a bit, but people in town are angry.

I mean, what more evidence does a person need? There was a burglary, and there are Mexicans in town: it seems pretty straightforward to me.

It seems like the Government is treating the Mexicans better than our own people. Even a Negro would be angry at this, I believe.

I see dark times ahead.

I am Laslo.

http://althouse.blogspot.com/2016/04/we-went-under-fence-and-through-fence.html

I have Faith the right thing will be done, and soon: the politicians can't be THAT stupid.

A Letter from Miss Harriet Tubman, Kansas, 1954:

No, I am not THAT Harriet Tubman. 

Well, that was fast: now there is ANOTHER Mexican in town, working for Mr. Reed at the Hardware Store. The town has managed to do just fine without Negroes, and now we are taking on Mexicans? I thought this was America.

People are suspicious: these two Mexicans sit together in the Town Square at lunch, talking Mexican so we can't hear what they are planning. It can't be good.

With this growing Mexican problem tempers got hot at the Town Council meeting on Tuesday. There has even been talk of building a wall at the south end of town to keep the Mexicans out.

I hope it doesn't come to that. Surely our Government recognizes the problem, and is taking action this very moment. I mean, isn't that the point of Government? To do what's right for the American people?

I might even write a letter to my Congressman. I have Faith the right thing will be done, and soon: the politicians can't be THAT stupid.

I am Laslo.

http://althouse.blogspot.com/2016/04/we-went-under-fence-and-through-fence.html

Problems work themselves out that way sometimes.

A Letter from Miss Harriet Tubman, Kansas, 1954:

No, I am not THAT Harriet Tubman. 

The big news in town is that Mr. Hampton the Grocer hired himself a Mexican. Of course people are upset: there are plenty of white folks around here that could use a job, and I hear Mr. Hampton pays the Mexican even less than what one would pay a Negro.

Sometimes it makes me fear for the future of our Country. I worry that there will be more and more Mexicans, speaking Mexican and taking our jobs and leering at our women. But then I realize that surely our Government wouldn't let that happen: we already have a Negro problem, we don't need to import another.

Maybe the Mexican will realize he isn't wanted here and just go away. Problems work themselves out that way sometimes.

I am Laslo.

http://althouse.blogspot.com/2016/04/we-went-under-fence-and-through-fence.html

Freedom: it makes people rue things that they shouldn't even have'd to have ever even thinked about.

A Letter from Miss Harriet Tubman, Kansas, 1954:

No, I am not THAT Harriet Tubman. 

I am in my thirties now, a spinster, but as a white God-fearing woman I have no real rue or regrets. Maybe that I didn't run off with the Anders boy, but I believe I made God's Choice right proper. Plus he was a strawberry redhead, and that's that.

It must be tough to be a negro, though: you had everything you could have ever possibly wanted -- shelter, food, security, a purpose -- and you gave it all up for Freedom.

Freedom: it makes people rue things that they shouldn't even have'd to have ever even thinked about.

Sure, it's good to be Free, but Free and an empty stomach is just an empty stomach. mostly. I bet a negro's empty stomach isn't much different than the empty stomach of a white man, although maybe there's science there I don't know about.

In Heaven I won't need no Freedom, and wherever negroes end up I hope it's pretty much the same.

Maybe I should read some more books.

I am Laslo.

http://althouse.blogspot.com/2016/04/at-rueful-cafe.html