A black, you know, isn't very intelligent or very cultured. He certainly has good sides: he feeds on cassava, he is laughing, childish, gifted for music (wild and rhythmic, not classical), but it is above all underdeveloped and that compensates with an oversized member... Everyone knows it. However, France has an incalculable number of these individuals who are an integral part of the nation, like Gaston Kelman. The author has lived in France for twenty years and defines himself above all as Burgundian. On the strength of his experience, he unwinds with fierce verve the platitudes that weigh on blacks; alternating the seriousness of his subject with pathetic, hilarious and sometimes cruel anecdotes. As a true sociologist, he also takes a lucid look at blacks "who too often delight in the role of victims". Few essays so brutally pose the question to which geneticists and anthropologists have already answered: He was nothing but a black-skinned white man.