I’m Resigning To Chase The Black American Dream
The most precious token of all.
Dear Warren,
Thank you for shaping and elevating my copywriting career. Toothpaste advertising is a cutthroat game, and I would’ve drowned on my own. Your mentorship, support, and congeniality made the ReFreshMint: Fresher than Ever campaign possible.
But I hear my dream calling. It’s a tradition as old as Black America, and ignoring it would squander generations of sacrifice. A path to the wealth and recognition I deserve. I’m leaving the agency to become a token black reactionary.
It started with Bill Cosby. My grandfather had all his tapes, and I devoured them with glee. While the black intelligentsia fixated on police violence and running water, Bill knew the money was in belts. He said “pull up your pants” on the anniversary of Brown vs. Board of Education, a date that the Aryan Brotherhood sat out. That’s when I learned making millions for minutes of pandering was possible.
Sadly, reality stepped in. When I said I wanted to be like Bill, my father enrolled me in stand-up classes and my mother slapped me. Their lack of vision left me with a stifling creative writing degree. I was pigeonholed into art, with my dreams of professional negritude deferred. A pain few have known.
From there I fell into toothpaste copywriting, a humbler way of whitening the world. I could eat, but I wasn’t happy. I knew I could be making much, much more, and the best years for selling out my people were slipping through my fingers. Every day, I watched grifters with half my talent sell books about the Democratic plantation.
If I’m going to cash in, I need to cash in now. I hope you understand.
Anyone can tongue crumbs off the boot of power. Websites dedicated to recording it thrive. Yet black bootlicking is different. It’s alive. It leaves white pundits mute. It takes years off the lives of activists. It reaches into every cranny of the boot’s sole, hunting for a stray speck of dirt.
It is, simply put, black excellence.
Starting over’s hard, even after tweeting “Stick to basketball” to half the NBA. The world’s smaller than it used to be, and most OAN clones already have a pet negro. I’m still betting on myself. I know every Shapiro retweet brings me closer to writing a Wall Street Journal op-ed about Lenin inventing critical race theory. Once I get there, anything is possible.
While mentors are important, so are heroes. They show us what’s possible when we have the courage to try. With Cosby taking some time off, my new hero is Senator Tim Scott. After years in the halls of power, he’s still licking boot with the vigor and precision of a fraternity pledge. Ultimately, I’d like to join Tim in kicking the black community until it stops moving.
After a decade of mediocrity, it’s time to aim high. By 2024, I’m going to win the big one. The award marking the hardest-working, most innovative lickspittle in Black America. The trophy for the slave in the biggest house. The Golden Raccoon.
Miss Owens may be on a six-year hot streak, but it’s time for fresh blood. If her pandering can buy a house, mine can buy an entire plantation. You know me as Anthony Ruckus, but the world’s going to meet Amadeus Vult. Starting with my Daily Caller debut: Why White Hoods are for Everyone.
Good luck going forward, Warren. When I win the Raccoon, you’ll be the first name in my speech. Maybe our professional paths will meet again, if ReFreshMint becomes CPAC’s official toothpaste. Until then, keep ReFreshMint fresh, and preserve a future for white teeth.
Sincerely,
Amadeus Vult, Provocateur
