leftists don't hate rape, they hate white men
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Dedicated to what?” Hemingway asked him.
“To the poor, to the unfortunate, to the victims of racial bias,” the producer said, still in control.
“Women don’t give a shit about those things,” Hemingway said decisively. “She’s a hater, she’s only for those people because she hates.”
“Well, yes,” the producer said, “she hates injustice.”
“She doesn’t hate injustice,” Hemingway said decisively. “She hates people like you and her husband.”
The producer was a little disconcerted by now. This was too batty, even from Lear. “How can she hate me?” he asked with a tentative smile. “She hardly knows me.”
“She knows you,” Hemingway said grimly. “You’re so easy to read. The same way she knows Franklin. Weak, sniveling power-mad creep. Not a man at all. Just like you. So she’s going to let the niggers and kikes loose on the whole bunch of you.”
Now the crazy old monarch had the attention of the whole party in a watchful, very American silence, the forced gaiety turned to the anticipation of trouble. But not an unwelcome anticipation, because trouble, after all, was a relief from the eternal posing.
After a suitable pause for brooding, Hemingway said, “You’re not men, that’s the trouble with all of you, that’s why your women are so far gone. You even got to mine. If you were men, you’d do something, you’d … no more spics, no more kikes, there wouldn’t be a David Selznick above ground level. Make it open season, bring in a yid’s head by dawn or you don’t get a woman. That always separates the hunters from the pansies.”