“Now you’re using your brain, Harley,” Beaumont said, approvingly. “Being white’s just a color. Doesn’t make us like them, or them like us. There’s things inside color. Even the coloreds themselves see it that way. Look who they pick for their preachers and their politicians. It’s always the light-skinned ones, with that processed hair. The ones that got white in them, you don’t see them mixing much with the ones look like they just got off the boat from Africa. “And it’s the same with us. With white people. Inside that color, we got all these groups. Like ... tribes, all right? You’ve got the Italians, you’ve got the Irish, you’ve got the Jews, you’ve got the–” “Jews?” a man with long sideburns, wearing a leather aviator’s jacket, piped up, somewhere between a question and a sneer. “Sure, Jews,” Beaumont said. “What did you think, Roland? They weren’t in our business?” “I thought they was all ... I mean, maybe in the business, but not at our end. Not like the stuff we–” “You should read a book once in a while,” Beaumont said, “it wouldn’t hurt you. Wouldn’t hurt you to pay attention to what goes on in the world, either. You go back far enough–and, trust me, it’s not that damn far–you find Jews started the same way we did. With this,” he said, knotting a fist and holding it up to the faint light from the desk lamp, like a jeweler checking a gem for flaws. “I never heard of a kike with the balls for muscle work,” Udell said. “Udell,” Beaumont sighed, “you never heard of a lot of things.” twotrainsrunning/behind-book.html p. 9
Posted on: Sat, 13 Dec 2014 12:18:09 +0000
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