The mansion across the street from the old plantation house I rent a room in has been purchased by corporate hipsters.
I was leaving with backpack and duffle bag for a weekend with Babelicious Capri, who used to pick me up in that old VW minibus with the pink paint job and the primer roof.
As I leave the house my roommate points at a van that I just glance at and says, "Your girl's here, got a new van."
I just assumed it was so and hauled my gear over behind the van, then walked up on the sidewalk to open the sliding door. Then, as my hand neared the door handle, I heard a gasp from the open passenger side window and stepped forward.
Looking in. I saw the fear-stricken face of a teenage white girl in the passenger seat and a terrified and frozen white woman behind the wheel—a bitch stupid enough to drive into Baltimore on the first hot day of the year with her windows down. It just then registered that I saw a child of the hipsters on the sidewalk to my right, leaving this vehicle, where, according to my assumption that this was my girl's van, I thought that maybe he had been walking up from the next car down.
There they stood, frozen in terror, doing nothing but shaking as I looked at them.
I said, "I'm sorry, ladies. I thought this was my friend's van."
As I stepped back they start mumbling, "Oh God, oh My God!"
Okay, if I looked that dangerous they should have rolled up the windows, rolled off or at least locked the doors.
Once discovering that I had no intention of entering and was backing away and apologizing, and since I obviously appeared to be a dangerous man, the mother should have befriended me, even asked how safe the area was, something, somehow used me to make her daughter more safe.
No, she continued to shake in terror and do nothing.
This stupid bitch did not even raise the windows or engage her vehicle or lock her doors.
I removed myself twenty feet over and waited. After they pulled off—which took three minutes—a muscular young black man with theatrically spiked hair came walking down the street in a wildly flamboyant war dance, screeching obscenities until he saw me, he then stopped, drew out his penis and wagged it at me, called me a bitch, challenged me to a fight and strutted ape-like on, like a primate fighting cock from some sci-fi movie. I would not stare at his penis or answer his challenge so he strutted on.
This was the street that stupid bitch drove onto with her windows down.
The next street over, after Babelicious picked me up and unwisely took a wrong turn, was crowded by gangs of blacks trying to stop traffic with their bodies. However, since she is such an adorably clueless driver and was so excited to see me, she did not notice these people as she rambled about what a nice time we were going to have. They were trying to get her to slow down and they wisely did not test her close-to-non-existent driving skills.
I will write more on this later, this "dindu chicken," but consider that this liberal white woman with the Hillary and Obama stickers on her van bumper, although terrified of my white working class presence, drove with windows down and her daughter in the passenger seat, through this neighborhood were gangs of 350 pound black men were attempting to stop cars and vans with their intimidating presence. We already know what they do in a crisis—freeze, just like the white rabbits they are.
As much as this woman and her daughter deserve to be draped screaming from their liberal conveyance, raped, and murdered by the sacred Dindus of Baltimore, it stands as a testament to media brainwashing that these denatured cuոts saw only one danger on that street where they went helpless and exposed—an older, polite, working class white guy.
When the next open season Purge comes I will stand and watch before I lend aid to such creatures as these. They are not even human. The dusky apes dancing in the streets, daring white motorists to run them over and challenging me to fight are more human than they.
Waking Up in Indian Country: Harm City: 2015
Its going to be a long, hot summer...
Typo: "However, science"
Years of Jewish MSM programming and feminism have convinced Joanne Doe (and all too many John Does) that the white man is indeed the most fearsome of all urbans beasts.
"Dindu Chicken": A phenomenon in which a Dindu that is crossing a busy thoroughfare, upon seeing an approaching vehicle, will slow his pace so as to appear as if he will be struck by the vehicle unless the driver slows down.
In North Dindustan, the desire among Dindus to play was determined by type of vehicle and driver. Small cars driven by women were the preferred opponent, followed by large cars driven by women. Large cars driven by older, paleface men provided the most excitement since the willingness of the paleface to hit the Dindu was determined by the paleface's willingness to face even temporary incarceration with more Dindus.
Pick up trucks with grill guards were to avoided, no matter who was driving.