The age of White supremacy is over.
And that's ok. It's actually a good thing.
My grandma, on my mothers side, she had these two dogs. They were bloodhounds. Both came up in the same litter, she kept them and gave the rest away to the neighbors.
Both had known each other since they first opened their eyes, neither one of them ever treated any better than the other one, gentlest dogs you ever care to meet. Good, gentle dogs.
So anyway, Thanksgiving of my 9th year these two old dogs were trailing me around, because you know, they know the score. I'm an animal lover who never finishes his supper.
So right before I get up from the table, I toss these two old timers a turkey leg attached to a hunk of cartilage... and it was like they had never met. They went at each other so ferociously, it was all tooth and claw and jugular.
They forgot everything they ever had in common and scrapped like that discard was what stood between living and dying.
Pol is one of those hounds.