I was reading through some left leaning blogs and I saw a reference to this article entitled: R.I.P.- Immigration-bill autopsy in National Review.
The title on the lib tards blogs were : Black Women Want to be Maids in White Homes.

The part I post below is the tail end of the article but the lib tards are acting like this dude is making some racist statements and are highlighting some selective parts of the article to make some point, I was not clear on what that was.
I think what he says is perfectly legit and understandable in today’s immigration debate and how it affects blacks. 
Who knows, see what you think.

By John Derbyshire - National Review - Full Article Link 

In some offline conversations I’ve been having, and on some websites I’ll leave you to search out by yourself, the opinion has been expressed that some portion of America’s white elites welcome Hispanic immigration as a way of sticking it to American blacks. That portion, it is suggested, would prefer to have its lawns mowed by small, polite, brown people, rather than large, surly black ones, even if the price is the same in both cases.

I think there is something in that, but more than I have yet heard discussed.

Here’s a story. Saturday night, around 11 P.M., I was in Manhattan, walking with my daughter from Lincoln Center (where we had just seen the ABT’s new production of The Sleeping Beauty) to Penn Station for our ride back out to the burbs. At Columbus Circle we were followed for a while by one of the new pedicabs that are now allowed to ply for business in the city.

This pedicab seated two, so my daughter and I were prospective customers. The proprietor of the thing was a young black guy. Three or four times he called out to us, in a very friendly way, to take advantage of the service he was offering. He seemed like a cheerful and enterprising young man. He was on a loser with us though, as my daughter still finds it thrilling to just walk the streets of the city, and wanted to go on doing so. Off we walked, leaving him behind.

A hundred yards ahead I looked back. There he still was at the Circle, trying to get someone to ride in his pedicab. It shouldn’t have been difficult; the streets were pretty crowded; yet when at last I lost sight of him, he still hadn’t got a customer.

He’d got me noticing pedicabs, though. There seemed to be quite a lot of them, mostly occupied, mostly with young white guys pedaling. It occurred to me to wonder whether it’s harder for a black pedicabbie (?) to pick up passengers than for a white one. Not because people are scared to be pedaled by a black man — this was midtown Manhattan, for heaven’s sake, on a busy spring evening — but because white Americans just aren’t comfortable in such an obvious service relationship with a black American doing muscle work on their behalf.

Similarly, there are probably a lot of black American women who wouldn’t mind working as maids in prosperous white households, as used to be commonplace. I’m willing to bet, though, that there are large numbers of white people who would much rather not have a black maid. Not, again, because they fear a black maid would harm them, or be lazy or dishonest, but just because they would not feel comfortable in a master-servant relationship with a black person, after all the guilt-trip propaganda of the past 40 years.

What’s more, I think I’m one of those white people. Another story: Back in 1990 or 1991, living in London, I was walking across the interior space of Victoria Station, a major rail terminus. There was a shoeshine stand there in the middle of the concourse, operated by a lone black man who looked as if he could use some business. My shoes needed shining, I had five minutes to spare, so I negotiated a price, mounted his chair, and he started polishing.

And I started sweating. I felt really uncomfortable. It was irrational, I know, but I’m telling how it was. I got looks from people walking by, too — not friendly looks. See that black guy toiling away at the white man’s feet! Those were the looks — or, just as revealing, if in a different way, that was how I imagined them. I suspect that shoeshine guy didn’t get much business.

The shoeshine parlor at Manhattan’s Penn Station, which I visit frequently, is staffed entirely by Hispanics. As the current catch-phrase goes: I’m just sayin’.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, June 12th, 2007 at 10:12 am and is filed under Race Issues.
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