[written 11/3/19]
“The way things are going the future for me is to be an old, in-shape, kind of skilled combatant in a world that hates me, with Yutes [Yutish Warriors] attacking me as soon as they see the least sign of weakness—I mean this was your experience in Baltimore when you were hurt as an older man. Guns will have been effectively banned by then, so what is that fight going to look like.”
-Mister Grey, speaking to the author in safehouse #13
***
Okay, bro, there are three scenarios:
-1. Defending a loved one by conducting a delaying action as an expendable meat shield.
In this case you are best served with a visible carry tool, like a flashlight, a brick, a hammer, a crowbar, something that is threatening and will make you the focus of aggression and cause some spacing from you so that you can deny access to your dependent more effectively.
-2. A race-based moral reparations attack by 1-5 Yutish Braves.
For this attack, based on the ever-higher level of adult onset diabetes among Yute Muricans, I suggest wearing heavy engineer or linemen boots with hardened toes and kicking the right shin and stomping the right foot so that one day, long after they have beaten you to death, they will suffer amputation at the hands of a Pakistani doctor who hates them.
-3. Killings, either because the Yutes you were spite-stomping above or the cops who come to reinforce their moral reparations rights home in on your pale ass as a sacrament of the Sacred Cleansing.
For the final act in your exit from this sissy world, I suggest the ultimate act of parting savagery, clinging to an attacker with one hand and stabbing his groin and guts with the other.
Stab, twist and rip.
Stab, rip and twist.
Stab, twist and rip…
Your hands should stay stronger than Yute paws until your last months of life, so hold on tight and bring some Yutish escorts to the gates of Hell with you to sacrifice to the Ebon God where he squats in feral majesty.
Social media is rife with this cultural ebonism. You can not say shit without getting pounced on by bantu beligerents and/or worse wiggas shutting you down when you're in a conversation with a ebon preacher and cultural adviser. i want to tell them to shut their "whiter shade of pale ass up" and then I realize the bantus have used me too, in that I'm going to that default state they go to. I replied to a tweet from black history heroes, to the thing on MLK day in Virginia. I was very respectful, so were they, I had to smile that they thought I was black when they asked where all the good white people were. Ask Lynn what I tweeted her today while she was cooking.
We are truly in a post rational world.