It was five years ago this weekend that I got defenestrated from National Review. I had written a piece for another outlet mocking those black journalists who'd written weepy pieces about The Talk they said they'd had to give to their kids following the Trayvon Martin affair. They had to give their kids this capital-T Talk, they claimed, to warn them how dangerous white people are.

I pointed out, what is statistically indisputable, that blacks are far more dangerous to nonblacks than vice versa, and offered some advice of my own to nonblack kids. That's what got me canned.

Several friends have asked me to mark the anniversary somehow, but I'm darned if I can think of anything suitable. I will note that the prohibition on saying or writing unflattering things about blacks in general is even stronger now than it was five years ago. There's been a corresponding increase in the national quantity of hypocrisy, as wellnigh all nonblack Americans live their lives on the principles I spelled out.

This disconnect between how we live, and what we may say about how we live, continues to baffle me. The best explanation I can come up with is a deep national despair that we are unwilling to face: despair that, fifty years after unjust laws were struck down and uncouth behavior by whites towards blacks was shamed out of the public spaces, the races are no closer to getting along harmoniously than we were then.

The only other thing I can think of to say about the events of five years ago is, once again, a profoundly heartfelt "thank you" to all those who helped and supported me at that time, including but by no means limited to the proprietors of this website and of Taki's Magazine, and to all those who contributed donations. Thank you, Peter and Lydia; thank you, Taki and Mandolyna; and thank you several hundred times over to the others.

Just writing about all that kindness and generosity has lifted my depression!