This past Monday night, I was ambling along to work, when I saw, in the distance, a group of four oppressed individuals whom I sensed were fleeting acquaintances. They were up in the hazy reach of my tired eyes, shuffling along below the blinking glow of the lone street light, leaving the liquor store and headed to Middle River Bridge ahead of me.
I noted the size, the gaits and yes, this was the crew, who a few Monday nights previously, an hour earlier, I had run into while coming this way across Middle River Bridge. This suggests that, when these four fine fellows flanked out, one even arming himself with a knife, in order to apply some kind of force to me—an event truncated by their large lead balking at the look in my eye—that they had not been out prowling for victims, hunting or raiding, but had simply been walking somewhere for their own crude social purposes and upon seeing an older, smaller man of pale make, spontaneously decided to attack.
Their body language had also suggested this, so I took this liquor store run, [really, the only likely destination at this hour for young men on foot walking out of Hawthorne] as confirmation of this suspicion.
Over and over again, since 1981, I have been the subject of deliberate attempts to draw me into fights as a young man, to victimize me as a man in my prime, and to systematically hunt me as a man in his waning years. But only since the Freddie Gray Riots and the concurrent and ongoing Purge of April 2015, have I noted this level of spontaneous aggression on the streets of Baltimore City and Baltimore County.
The psychological mechanism is the same as that which impelled knights of yore to swoop down from their keep upon any passing persons and rob, rape and butcher, an underlying sense of societal justification.
People of good character, considering the terrible actions of folks of bad character, tend to assume that such behavior is purely an expression of that person’s outlook and makeup.
Leftists will say that these four thugs were programmed by poverty to spontaneously attack me, yet poorer thugs in past years demonstrated no such impulse, but rather predatory calculation, and whites have rarely treated me like so in recent years [only twice].
On the Right, the answer is 100% genetic, with racial programming making of us a different kind of robot. However, most blacks have never behaved like this towards me. Indeed, in outlying areas such as Middle River and in Middle River, those who have aggressed in such spontaneous manner against me before 2015 have typically been groups of white men, with larger bodies [and in my prime] shorter hair.
See When You’re Food: God Can Surely Count to Four, about four young white fellows who piled out of a car on me with bats, simply because I refused to ignore their threats to gang rape a 13-year-old white girl on North Boundary Road. I did not say a thing, but their status as scholastic athletes of the senior class at Patapsco High and my grungy looking hobo appearance, gave them justification to attack me for the crime of refusing to turn away from this girl’s impending rape.
At that very same time, carloads of black dudes would cruise that area trying to lure white girls into cars so they could be raped. This is predatory behavior without social sanction, where the behavior of the four white boys was [in their minds] socially sanctioned aggression.
Currently, in and around Baltimore and increasingly in other dying cities across this degenerate nation, the gravest danger to you and yours is the profound sense of socially sanctioned, media approved, government-supported racial-gender hatred for white men.
My friends, detractors and enemies, if you are a Caucasian male, know that you have recently been named the target of the greatest hunt ever declared upon this savage planet. Never have more human souls thirsted for the downfall and dissolution of a race of men, than now, at the eerily unperceived nightfall of our kind.
The One World Machine has its grinding gears, forever empty maw and negating eyes trained hungrily on you, paleface.
To be concluded with Negating Your Pale Trace.
Rubbing Out Palefaces
Moral Minority Survival at the End of Caucasian Time Paperback
Was just talking to someone about this concept the other day-purchased!
Zeitgeist, oil on canvas:
alfalfastudio.com/the-art-of-cleon-peterson