User:KOMF/place to put random stuff

Crap Copypasta

>I was only 9 years old

>I loved Trump so much, I had all the merchandise and hats

>I pray to Trump every night before bed, thanking him for removing kebab

>"Trump is love" I say; “Trump is life”

>My dad hears me and calls me a racist

>I know he was just jealous of my devotion for Trump

>I called him a cuck

>He slaps me and sends me to go to sleep

>I’m crying now, and my face hurts

>I lay in bed and it’s really cold

>Suddenly, a warmth is moving towards me

>It’s Trump

>I am so happy

>He whispers into my ear “We need to build a wall.”

>He grabs me with his tiny hands and puts me down onto my hands and knees

>I’m ready

>I spread my ass-cheeks for Trump

>He penetrates my butt-hole

>It hurts so much but I do it for Trump

>I can feel my butt tearing as my eyes start to water

>I push against his force

>I want to please Trump

>He roars in a mighty roar as he fills my butt with his wall

>My dad walks in

>Trump looks him straight in the eyes and says “I'm gonna bomb the shit out of them”

>Trump leaves through my window

>Trump is love. Trump is life.

another copypasta

Mark my words. Trump isnt going to leave the white house when his term is up. I know because I've seen this situation play out in my homeland.

I grew up in Flavortown. 30 years ago, we held elections for a new mayor. Before the ballots could even be counted, a man by the name of Guy Fieri showed up and proclaimed himself mayor.

Everyone was baffled because he wasn't even on the ballot. We tried to confront him, but he just kept saying random nonsense like, "That was out of bounds!" and "That was the bomb.com!" We dont know what these things mean, but he just keeps repeating them.

He has wreaked havoc on the community. He outlawed all hairstyles besides spikey white hair, and everything now has flames on it. We can't even eat most food anymore, only mexican-asian fusion.

This situation got out of hand because we didnt act, and if you Americans don't act, the same will happen to you.

aaaa

I have a problem with arming animals.

Dear Chapo and friends,

Warning: if you're sensitive to what I described in the title, I discuss details

TL;DR I want to know how I can stop feeling pleasure from arming certain animals

This is something I have experienced for years, but it has gotten worse recently. Nears, some birds hatched in the spring and the adult birds became aggressive toward anyone who walked by. I took this personally and became protective of them. It started with chasing people off and checking on the baby birds, and helping them build a bird support network in difference places (with other families, in a different park nearby), but then I started arming them. The first one I found without a parent and didn't know exactly what to do with. I suddenly got really angry and made it a tiny sword. It could barely lift it, but the bird was still able to fly and I let it flutter off, threatening a passer by. The next one got a spear. The following one, tiny nunchucks. After this I tried teaching some of the birds how to make molotovs, but they ran out of bottles after a day (birds don't drink much). I started wanting them to live without the capitalists controlling them. I decided that if I build them little rifles, they should not be able to fend for themselves and they'd be able to seize control of the park without my help. I have since been finding them and doing that (most have risen up as a result), and occasionally given communist propaganda to the adult birds.

Nothing gives me as much pleasure as when I show one of the birds how to use its rifle, and it gives a war cry. I fantasize about giving them tanks, though I have not yet done this.

The most disturbing thing is that this behavior keeps building. I was hoping I would at some point feel bad about this and stop, but the opposite has happened. The only thing that keeps me from doing more is the fact that it is on the campus of my workplace.

I have a history of doing this to other animals. It happens when I lose respect for the people around the animal because of their capitalist tendencies (or something, I don't really understand it) I care about most people, and society. I think the military industrial complex, as it is practiced today, is immoral I've not experienced any adverse events in my life recently I mostly repress other revolutionary behaviors (at work, driving, occasionally toward my partner) I think the arming behavior has something to do with feelings of revolution and class consciousness, but introspection hasn't led me much farther The question I have is, how can I cut down on the reward felt from arming animals? Or do I just have to deal with not giving into the temptation? What is this behavior a result of? If I become a revolutionary later in life, am I at risk for becoming a cell leader?

Sincerely, Early 30s male

wriugneruinberiu

Mark my words. Trump isnt going to leave the white house when his term is up. I know because I've seen this situation play out in my homeland.

I grew up in Flavortown. 30 years ago, we held elections for a new mayor. Before the ballots could even be counted, a man by the name of Guy Fieri showed up and proclaimed himself mayor.

Everyone was baffled because he wasn't even on the ballot. We tried to confront him, but he just kept saying random nonsense like, "That was out of bounds!" and "That was the bomb.com!" We dont know what these things mean, but he just keeps repeating them.

He has wreaked havoc on the community. He outlawed all hairstyles besides spikey white hair, and everything now has flames on it. We can't even eat most food anymore, only mexican-asian fusion.

This situation got out of hand because we didnt act, and if you Americans don't act, the same will happen to you.

bdidnbiud

Weird fact: the Easter Bunny was the source of a significant amount of theological debate during the 1200's, as Catholic philosophers debated why God would create a creature in a constant state of labor (and thus suffering). The Catholic Church ultimately resolved this question by declaring that the Easter Bunny orgasmed every time it laid it an egg (which it was doing constantly). This is now codified in Canon Law (the legal code of the Catholic Church and much of Europe in the pre-modern era) and saying that the Easter Bunny does not orgasm with every egg laid is considered blasphemy and grounds for excommunication from the Church.

usirbyue8beu

Dicks are so cute omg(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ when you hold one in your hand and it starts twitching its like its nuzzling you(/ω＼) or when they perk up and look at you like" owo nya? :3c" hehe ~ penis-kun is happy to see me!!（＾ワ＾） and the most adorable thing ever is when sperm-sama comes out but theyre rlly shy so u have to work hard!!(๑•̀ㅁ•́๑)✧ but when penis-kun and sperm-sama meet and theyre blushing and all like "uwaaa~!" (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ: ･ﾟhehehe~penis-kun is so adorable (●´Д｀●)・

drbdbsdrrejirebio

What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Austin Red Guards, and I’ve been involved in numerous riots against nazis, and I have over 300 confirmed burnt cars. I am trained in urban combat and I’m the top molotov thrower in the entire ANTIFA armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another bougie oppressor. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across my university and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, kiddo. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my molotov cocktail. Not only am I extensively trained in barricade building, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the Cosmopolitan Anarchists Coordinating Council and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn nazi. I will shit burning gasoline all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo.

rtbnnbeuimeit9b

I was shooting heroin and reading “The Fountainhead” in the front seat of my privately owned police cruiser when a call came in. I put a quarter in the radio to activate it. It was the chief.

“Bad news, detective. We got a situation.”

“What? Is the mayor trying to ban trans fats again?”

“Worse. Somebody just stole four hundred and forty-seven million dollars’ worth of bitcoins.”

The heroin needle practically fell out of my arm. “What kind of monster would do something like that? Bitcoins are the ultimate currency: virtual, anonymous, stateless. They represent true economic freedom, not subject to arbitrary manipulation by any government. Do we have any leads?”

“Not yet. But mark my words: we’re going to figure out who did this and we’re going to take them down … provided someone pays us a fair market rate to do so.”

“Easy, chief,” I said. “Any rate the market offers is, by definition, fair.”

He laughed. “That’s why you’re the best I got, Lisowski. Now you get out there and find those bitcoins.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m on it.”

I put a quarter in the siren. Ten minutes later, I was on the scene. It was a normal office building, strangled on all sides by public sidewalks. I hopped over them and went inside.

“Home Depot™ Presents the Police!®” I said, flashing my badge and my gun and a small picture of Ron Paul. “Nobody move unless you want to!” They didn’t.

“Now, which one of you punks is going to pay me to investigate this crime?” No one spoke up.

“Come on,” I said. “Don’t you all understand that the protection of private property is the foundation of all personal liberty?”

It didn’t seem like they did.

“Seriously, guys. Without a strong economic motivator, I’m just going to stand here and not solve this case. Cash is fine, but I prefer being paid in gold bullion or autographed Penn Jillette posters.”

Nothing. These people were stonewalling me. It almost seemed like they didn’t care that a fortune in computer money invented to buy drugs was missing.

I figured I could wait them out. I lit several cigarettes indoors. A pregnant lady coughed, and I told her that secondhand smoke is a myth. Just then, a man in glasses made a break for it.

“Subway™ Eat Fresh and Freeze, Scumbag!®” I yelled.

Too late. He was already out the front door. I went after him.

“Stop right there!” I yelled as I ran. He was faster than me because I always try to avoid stepping on public sidewalks. Our country needs a private-sidewalk voucher system, but, thanks to the incestuous interplay between our corrupt federal government and the public-sidewalk lobby, it will never happen.

I was losing him. “Listen, I’ll pay you to stop!” I yelled. “What would you consider an appropriate price point for stopping? I’ll offer you a thirteenth of an ounce of gold and a gently worn ‘Bob Barr ‘08’ extra-large long-sleeved men’s T-shirt!”

He turned. In his hand was a revolver that the Constitution said he had every right to own. He fired at me and missed. I pulled my own gun, put a quarter in it, and fired back. The bullet lodged in a U.S.P.S. mailbox less than a foot from his head. I shot the mailbox again, on purpose.

“All right, all right!” the man yelled, throwing down his weapon. “I give up, cop! I confess: I took the bitcoins.”

“Why’d you do it?” I asked, as I slapped a pair of Oikos™ Greek Yogurt Presents Handcuffs® on the guy.

“Because I was afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“Afraid of an economic future free from the pernicious meddling of central bankers,” he said. “I’m a central banker.”

I wanted to coldcock the guy. Years ago, a central banker killed my partner. Instead, I shook my head.

“Let this be a message to all your central-banker friends out on the street,” I said. “No matter how many bitcoins you steal, you’ll never take away the dream of an open society based on the principles of personal and economic freedom.”

He nodded, because he knew I was right. Then he swiped his credit card to pay me for arresting him.

uiybvui9wv9wh

BBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

snnnnniiiiiiffffffffffff...oh yes my dear....sssnnnnnnnnnnnniiiiiiiiffffffff....quite pungent indeed...is that....dare I say....sssssssnniff...eggs I smell?......sniff sniff....hmmm...yes...quite so my darling....sniff....quite pungent eggs yes very much so .....ssssssssssssssnnnnnnnnnnnnnnniiiiiiiffffff....ah yes...and also....a hint of....sniff....cheese.....quite wet my dear....sniff...but oh yes...this will do nicely....sniff.....please my dear....another if you please....nice a big now....

BBBBBBRRRRRRRAAAAAAAPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPFFFFFF

Oh yes...very good!....very sloppy and wet my dear....hmmmmm...is that a drop of nugget I see on the rim?...hmmmm.....let me.....let me just have a little taste before the sniff my darling.......hmmmmm....hmm..yes....that is a delicate bit of chocolate my dear....ah yes....let me guess...curry for dinner?....oh quite right I am....aren't I?....ok....time for sniff.....sssssnnnnnnniiiiiiiiffffffff.....hmmm...hhhmmmmm I see...yes....yes indeed as well curry......hmmm....that fragrance is quite noticeable....yes.....onion and garlic chutney I take it my dear?.....hmmmmm....yes quite.....

BBBBBBRRRRRRRRPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTT

Oh I was not expecting that…that little gust my dear….you caught me off guard…yes…so gentle it was though…hmmmm…let me taste this little one…just one small sniff…..sniff…ah….ssssssnnnnnniiiiiffffffffffff…and yet…so strong…yes…the odor….sniff sniff…hmmm….is that….sniff….hmmm….I can almost taste it my dear…..yes….just…sniff….a little whiff more if you please…..ssssssnnnnnniiiiiffffffffff…ah yes I have it now….yes quite….hhhhmmmm…delectable my dear…..quite exquisite yes…..I dare say…sniff….the most pungent one yet my dear….ssssnnnnniiiifffffffffffffffffffffff….yes….

nedvn

One day they came and they took the Gas Guzzlers And I said nothing because I used mass transit Then one day they converted the McMansions to multi-family dwellings And I said nothing because I lived in a soviet style condo near a coffee shop One day they came and they took the Large Lawns And I said nothing because I have no lawn One day they burned the right wing radio And I said nothing because I listened to Air America Then one day they came and they took my ipod And they burned the coffee shop I liked to frequent And they requisitioned my $1200 bicycle for the great leap forward And banned my spandex pajamas worn while cycling And rationed electricity for my McIntosh Now I believe in God and property

rbduideio

When someone tells me that gay porn is only for gay people, I have to resist the urge not to punch them in the face.

Then fucking leave if you're too coward to put yourself in a position where you directly protect American values. Everyone at this college is so god damn quick to discredit America and service-members.

I argued with my professor about why people watch gay porn. No, it's not because we wanted to rub one out, though there were an OUTLIER of people that watched for that reason. I watch to escape abuse, to be part of an unconditional brotherhood, my friends watch for entertainment, more friends watch because they support the United States. Some watch because it is their duty. If your immediate reaction to watching gay porn is to abandon ship when called upon, then fucking abandon it now. We can't count on you to fuck the man next to you.

"I would move to Canada if I had to watch gay porn". Oh yeah? Have fun not having any protection to your speech. I lean to the right, but above all else I'm a fucking patriot and a proud citizen of the United States. We hold the greatest values in the world, that I support wholeheartedly. Millions of people, including myself sacrificed our years that these fucking wimps use to party, flunk out, or criticize. I wanted to watch gay porn so you could enjoy your bullshit opinion. These people watching are identical to you and I. People. Many of which with limited options, where watching gay porn offers a very valuable solution whether it be health, education, purpose, leadership and many other values.

If you can't support the porn industry, or support the freedoms you took advantage of everyday of your life, then leave now, save us all the fucking favor. So I can count on a fellow patriot in my asshole.

I know many will disagree with me, but I need to get this off my chest. I struggled with my decision, and listening to these college kids shit on that decision infuriates me. In fact I'm sure this could be considered a bullshit opinion. But I, and many others went through what we saw as an opportunity to really support something we believed in.

Gay porn made me a man. I earned my rank. I worked hard to be an effective viewer. I survived Rocco Steele. I was determined to be the best fit to watch several men, not much but I earned the right to be called a viewer. I faced up to my fears and anxieties. I sucked it the fuck up mentally and didn't allow myself to run out of cum. I matured, and I know how to be an effective viewer. I dreamed of being a pornstar, and though that never happened, gay porn afforded me the opportunity to escape to arguably the best serving conditions to date.

jinfdbiund

I was recently in a hipster bar and overheard some very attractive tall millennials talking in hushed tones about how much they missed drinking straws. I sidled up to those exquisite Amazons, my now semi-erect member changing against the inside of my adult diaper. At first they looked visibly put off, but when I reached my greasy fingers into my inside coat pocket and took out a wrapped object, I had their attention. “Ladies,” I said, “I would be honored to make your drinking experience American again.” No sooner had I exposed one end of the straw, when the ground started to shake, as the ceiling began to crumble and fall around me. A giant hand tore off the roof in one motion. I stared up into the glaring light, my eyes struggling to adjust. It was her: Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez towered over the coffee shop, six stories high with a grin of red lipstick. “Oh, Ben,” she purred, “you know we made a deal. A Green New Deal.” She crouched down over the coffee shop, as my member became extremely turgid whilst I filled my diaper with fear-induced diarrhea. I squealed and tried to run, but her giant fingers easily caught my short legs, lifting me up into the air. My brain now flush with equal parts terror and arousal, I only barely managed to squeak out “facts don’t care about your feelings!” Alexandria just chuckled. “The fact, Benny boy,” she cooed, “is that you broke the rules of my new socialist America, and as for feelings- well, I’m feeling extremely hungry.” In one swift motion, she threw her head back, and tossed me into her wide-open mouth, straws falling out of my pockets. As the light disappeared around me and I slipped into the warmth of her stomach, I only had one thought on my mind: she finally noticed me.

rueivbbneruinbrionoei

What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you liberal bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the DSA Night School, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on boomer Facebook groups, and I have over 300 confirmed LOL-worthy posts. I am trained in Gorilla Mindset and I'm the top dunker in the entire United $nakkke$ of Amerikkka. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will call you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this hellsite, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of socks across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking liberal, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can cancel you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in postmodern neo-Marxism, but I have access to the entire arsenal of my meme folder and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy virtual milkshakes your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn smoothie (smooth brain). I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking lib, kiddo.

idubned9bre9

Queen Elizabeth II. The queen of Britain. Being the queen of such a large empire was very stressful, and the only thing that made her feel at home were her corgis. Unfortunately, since she was an old woman, she had outlived them all. Already being 100 or something years old, Elizabeth knew that she needed something to look after her - she was an old woman after all. And so, she told her servants to find her the perfect breeder. She wanted to get a new batch of corgis, ones with the most vicious tongues, covered in long pointy buds that will be sure to capture the royal flavour of the stuff she was going to feed them. She needed them to be short, but not too short, as that would be perfect for work. And finally, they needed some semblance of regret for being born. And by God was she going to make them hate being alive.

One day, while she was sitting in her room, watching the clouds go by and wishing that strange man who broke in that one time in the 2000s could ravish her again, she heard a knock at the door. "Jeeves!" She shouted, "get the doooooooooor!"

The servants, none of whom were named Jeeves, rushed to the palace doors and unlocked them, and as they opened slowly and dramatically, there was the payload. Six royal corgis, all sniffing around and looking at their surroundings. It was like nothing they've ever seen before, because all they've seen is their mum's vagina and their owner's greasy, muddy, disgusting farmer face. God, how greasy that face was, there was grime and dirt and shit from the farm stuck in all the different pores - there were even spots full of mucus and pig dung, and the farmer went so far as to pop one and get shitty pus everywhere.

The corgis wandered inside and were greeted by Prince Phillip and Queen Elizabeth. Both were wearing their most royal clothes, but one of the corgis couldn't help but notice something wrong. There was a strange smell in the air, and the farmer was leaving now so it couldn't have been him. The corgi got closer to the Queen and started to smell her intensity, from front to back. And then it stopped. "Oh Philip, he's realised what he's here to do!" Elizabeth laughed, the dog looking horrified with its nose pressed up against her ass. "Well little one, I suppose we better take you for a spin!" She grabbed the corgi and took it upstairs, the other corgis not understanding what was going on. The servants took the corgis and comforted them, knowing Elizabeth's dark secret.

"Well little one, what should we call you?" "Oh Liz, how about Boris? He likes to do this to you too you know!" Phillip chuckled. "Oh quiet you! You know he stopped after he became Foreign Secretary, apparently everyone in the Home Office was complaining about his breath." Liz exclaimed. Boris the dog was worried now. He basically knew what was going to go down, and was not excited about it. Not one bit.

The group came to a door, a golden, carved door, that led into a very large and royal bathroom. And Boris saw a horror no one should ever be subjected to. The Queen's former corgis, all beheaded and stuffed. Full of leaky, yellow and brown piss, with shit sloshing across the rim of each body. The smell was unbearable, obviously no one had cleaned these carcasses out and they'd been used as toilets for weeks. "Oh how I miss them in life." Liz pondered, stroking the belly of one of the bodies and pushing it slightly, letting the piss and diarrhea slosh out and overflow. "Well, little Boris, it's time to test you out!" The dog wondered what was going on. Was it going to be killed and become one of these? What was going to happen to it? And then, the Queen dropped her robes, and turned around. The corgi stared in horror at the Queen's asshole: wrinkly and old, shit was smeared everywhere, caught in the wrinkles of the old woman's ass. It looked like it had been festering for weeks on end there - the dog could only feel fear as it realised what it was there to do. Lick the shit out. Boris took a deep breath as an automatic response to this situation- and got a whiff of the ungodly sight. It smelt like a mix of piss and vomit and infected diarrhea, eggs of different parasites could be seen forming in the inside of the cheeks. It was splattered all over, and now Phillip had moved to pick Boris up - but Boris reacted quickly. He rushed out of the open door and down the palace stairs - but the old couple were in chase. "Slide down the banister, Liz!" Philip shouted, his legs too frail for him to give chase. Elizabeth ran out of the bathroom, the shit covered hips wriggling about and splashing the surroundings with loose droplets. "I'll get you!" She shouted to the dog, halfway down the stairs. Elizabeth hopped on to the banister and propelled herself down, the shit from inside her asshole and around acting as a lubricant that made her go faster. Unfortunately, it left a nasty, greasy, slimey trail of infected shit along the railing, and it dripped down into the columns of the bannister and covered the place. "Aha!" Liz said, hopping off the banister and grabbing the corgi. "You can't get away now, little Boris!" She then shouted for the servants to help clean the stairs up. "Get those little bastards' tongues to work!" She gestured towards the other corgis, who were still oblivious to what was going on. "And as for you..." she bent over, and gave the dog to Phillip. The dog struggled, but it was too little, too late. He was faced with the open horror of the queen's asshole. It was dark, wet, sticky - shit smeared across both cheeks conjoined together to form a mass of poop. "Now lick!" Elizabeth yelled, pointing to her asshole, her long nail catching a little nugget. "LICK!"

Boris felt his jaw forced open by Phillip, his tongue flopping out as he realised that he would have to do this. He looked around the palace ground, and looked out the window. Thousands of onlookers from behind the gate were oblivious to what was going on, but the guards were looking intently, watching as the Queen sat, ass up on the palace floor with a corrie's tongue rimming her brown ass. The corgi lapped up each wrinkle, cringing with each taste. 4 week old curry; 7 week old Chinese; hell, something here tasted like it was years old - all festering in this woman's bowels until now. The dog couldn't take it - and threw up - right into her ass. It acted as a bidet, clearing all the gunk out onto the floor - revealing worms, fungi, shit that looked dead. And Boris had to lap it all up, his tastebuds recoiling each lick that connected to the floor. The other corgis looked in horror at the mess - the Queen was now ejaculating onto the floor and adding female cum to the mix. And they knew that they'd be joining Boris pretty soon. "What're you looking at?" Philip shouted at the dogs, his cock now out and rock hard, jizz dropping into the puddle and mess. The dogs couldn't bear to look any longer, as Boris was still being forced to eat shit - and now her piss. What a horrible sight it was, to see the bright yellow piss spill into Boris' mouth, while he was still eating the rest of the puddle.

A few hours later, Boris sat in a heap on the palace floor. The puddle completely cleaned up, Boris cried. Elizabeth walked past, and lifted his ear. "Very good Boris, get some rest - tomorrow we will start from the top - hopefully you won't try to run away this time." She put his ear down, and walked to her bed, running her hand over the banister which was now shiny and clean. "And your little friends have done good too, Boris. But not as good as you. You, Boris, are definitely going to be my favourite helper until either of us dies."

larry cucumber x pickle rick lemon

I walk into the room ric is sitting spread eagle on the bed masturbating i look into his eyes he looks at me and says nigga you want some of this fat coc. I say fuck yea my nigga let me succ i grasp his warm stick my heart skips a beat suddenly i am erect. I sticks his fist into my ass and i scream he yells the phrase IM PICKLE RICKKK as he fist annihilates my tight ass hole. I love rick i suck on his earlobe and he moans louder i feel a penetration in my mouth and i taste his warm juicy penis i love it it tastes like penis and fucking love penis he rolls me over and starts to face fuck me harder than OJ Simpson face fucked rihanna with his fist i then take his meaty gurth in my butt i feel i slight wet sensation and he cums. I wake the next morning and im sore as fuck ric walks in and starts to make out with me heavily i turn him over and suck his ass like white children do to there uncles after he gets them ice cream on a hot summer day i stick my tounge so far in that i can feel the shit in my tounge i take a piece of his stool ans swallow it like advil omgggggggggggggg then i cummmmmmm everywhere yeessssssssssss daddy i say he says suck my toes nigga i say yes master and i suck he sprays he sauce all over the place i eat it up like how white families on friday nights eat salsa so they can pretend they acctually have culture which is to copy other peoples culture man fuck white peole its us green niggas you goota fucking worry about im the real nigga here ok back to what i was saying his salty sauce fills the room it glues the door shut i run he grabs me and forcefully puts his seed into me i turn around and say im only 6 years old he say if your six im six and penatrates me harder then as he fucks me throws a can of agent orange into the room and we both slowly fade away .

uineruibenibu

Ok. I understand now. I do not agree with the statement "there is no middle ground on so many issues". In response to the examples:

I reckon the first one needs to be more defined. What is being anti-racist? Is it someone who actively campaigns against it online and in the real world? Or is it someone who just isn't racist? The VAST majority of people in real life aren't racist, but they also aren't super vocal about "ending racism" because it is fairly non existent in their day to day lives. Does this make them racist? I don't think so.

I certainly am against racism, but am fairly cautious around the term "anti-racism" NOT because I am racist but because it has been hijacked by certain rad-leftists to thinly veil their own racism towards white people. This is the problem, while it is certainly a good thing to be anti something as horrific as racism (as everyone is), the term is often associated with the above problem. Of course, then if someone says for that reason they are not "anti racist" in that form, people default to them automatically racist. Not true.

So I believe the middle ground with racism lies in people who are not racist themselves but do not necessarily make "fighting racism" a major part of their lives. That goes for most people.

​

The middle ground between equality and bigotry is very simillar. Both are horrendous, 100% equality is a very bad thing. A doctor is certainly not equal to a cleaner in their capabilities and contributions to soceity and so should not be treated as such. 100% bigotry is just as bad. The middle ground for that is a combination of equity and positive discrimination (you don't have the proper job qualifications so you can't get the job, you work harder in jobs that are much more stressful and require more training therefore you earn more etc.)

​

I hope you see my point, I do believe that there is 99% of the time a middle ground in some form or another. Nothing is black and white, everything has arguments for and against it and radicalisation is NOT good solution, it makes things worse and breeds hate.

​

And in the words of Obi Wan Kenobi, "Only a Sith deals in extremes!"

Who would have thought that line is so applicable in modern American politics?

iuefvbiuebeiub

"Befo' the class begins, y’all must git on yer knees and worship the almighty Dollar and accept that America is the greatest economic power on God’s green earth."

At this moment, a brave, proletariat, red guardsman who has led 15,000 of his comrades to glorious death in human wave attacks and understood that China shall soon become a world superpower held up an iPod.

“What does it say at the bottom of this device, oily Meiguo-ren.”

The arrogant professor smirked greasily and smugly replied “Made in China, stupid Chink.”

The brave, proletariat, red guardsmen held up his professor’s laptop

“And what does it say at the bottom of this device?”

“Made in China...”

"Indeed, Made in China. This is made in China, that is made in China, everything you own is made in China. If America is truly the greatest economic power on Earth, how come China owns your manufacturing sector and not to mention holds most of your titanic debts?"

The Professor was visibly shaken and pulled out his M1911 and copy of The US Constitution . He scooted out of the room and did a mass shooting, crying tears of denial, the same tears Americans cried when they committed atrocities against the proletariat in Korea, Vietnam, and in Latin America in the name of "democracy!"

The students applauded with a big "Qilai! Qilai!" and all registered as Communist Party Members that day and accepted the Great Chairman Mao in their hearts. A Panda named "One China Policy" lumbered into the room and waved a Chinese flag proudly. The Little Red Book was read several times, and the Aircraft Carrier Liaoning itself showed up and enacted territorial seizures of disputed territories around the country.

The professor lost his tenure and was fired the next day. He died of forced labour in a re-education camp when they took his mobility scooter away and forced him to walk 2 meters.

rinve9nbe9rne9nbr9in

The Manifesto of the Australian National Bolshevik Party. A spectre is haunting Australia – the spectre of National Bolshevism. All the powers of Australia have entered into a “holy alliance” to exorcise this spectre: Bogans and MPs, Liberals and Labour, NATO and Police pigs. Where is the party in opposition that has not been decried as Nazbol by its opponents in power? Where is the opposition that has not hurled back the branding reproach of Nazbol, against the more advanced opposition parties, as well as against its reactionary adversaries? Two things result from this fact: I. National Bolshevism is already acknowledged by all Australian powers to be itself a power. II. It is high time that Nazbols should openly, in the face of the whole world, publish their views, their aims, their tendencies, and meet this nursery tale of the Spectre of Nazbol with a manifesto of the party itself. To this end, Nazbol Gangs of various nationalities have assembled in Brisbane and sketched the following manifesto, to be published in the English, and Bogan languages. 1. Jewgeoisie and Proletaryans The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class and race struggles. Freeman and slave, patrician and plebeian, lord and serf, guild-master‡ and journeyman, in a word, oppressor and oppressed, stood in constant opposition to one another, carried on an uninterrupted, now hidden, now open fight, a fight that each time ended, either in a revolutionary reconstitution of society at large, or in the common ruin of the contending classes. In the earlier epochs of history, we find almost everywhere a complicated arrangement of society into various orders, a manifold gradation of social rank. In ancient Rome we have patricians, knights, plebeians, slaves; in the Middle Ages, feudal lords, vassals, guild-masters, journeymen, apprentices, serfs; in almost all of these classes, again, subordinate gradations. The modern bourgeois society that has sprouted from the ruins of feudal society has not done away with class antagonisms. It has but established new classes, new conditions of oppression, new forms of struggle in place of the old ones. … … … Let the ruling classes tremble at a Nazbol revolution. The proletarians have nothing to lose but their chains. They have a world to win. Working Men of All Countries, Unite!

riibrbi9rebrio

It's been around for a while, but I still enjoy it

Holy fuck, there is a good pasta on there

"My Interactions with an IRL Chapoposter

Everything about him is what you would expect if you came across a chapoposter in real life.

Starting with their appearance. He is a very short and scrawny white man with dyed gold-and-black hair. He often wears shorts and some slightly-edgy graphic tee, along with a spikey biker bracelet.

I was introduced to him through my school's study abroad program (specifically to Berlin). He's residing in my suite of four rooms, but he's not my roommate.

Early in the program, people were generally trying to make friends, so him, another suitemate, and I decided to go to the McDonalds that was a block away. This is when I was first introduced to him. Along the way, he brought up reddit and said that he loved it. My suitemate said that reddit was pretty bad and he didn't use it. I said that I really enjoyed some of the smaller and more-hidden communities, but that the larger communities were often filled with terrible people, even if some had good content. He then said something along the lines of "well, to be fair, you have to have a large IQ to go on reddit Reddit, amirite?" and laughed. He then asked if I had heard of "r/ChapoTrapHouse", pointing out that it was his favorite subreddit. My gut reaction was saying "oh..." in a noticingly disappointed manner. My other suitemate seemed to recognize what that was and suggested that nobody argue about anything right now and to just be friends and eat McDonalds. I agreed with him. C agreed with him too, but after saying something along the lines of that he "wasn't saying [he] was wrong." (Every quote or anectdote I use will be to the best of my memory, but might not be fully accurate). Even if he had cocky remarks, he was nice enough, if not noticeably annoying, so I decided to hang around with him while I didn't know most of anybody there.

Over the next several days, I figured out that he was living a pathetic lifestyle. He would often drink and smoke cigarettes for one. He would also sleep-in and not go to our class that we had together. I believe, once or twice, that I saw him sleeping in his room while his alarm was loud and in his face, then woke him up by wiggling his toe or something so that he could go to class. Speaking of his room, it was very messy. I personally am not the cleanest person ever, but his clothes and junk were all over the floor. He did not seem like a very responsible or happy person, and I think this could be how chapo could have radicalized him.

He has a peculiar personality. He does try to be nice and social, but often fails, coming across as cocky and awkward. He uses nice words and language, but he keeps conversations centered around himself and his own views. He doesn't often understand social cues and when people are annoyed. He also makes a lot of jokes, but the best I've seen are people awkwardly laughing.

He likes to show other people that he's a radical leftist and does it in weird ways. One day in the German class I shared with him, we were going over the different areas and organizations in Berlin. He then asked the teacher where any local "anarchist communes" were. Everybody looked at him awkwardly. He explained that he wanted to join one. The teacher said she did not know where any local anarchist communes were.

He's also done cringy actions that don't necessarily have to do with his political beliefs. My roommate shared a different class with him, and was telling me a story about him. Apparently, there was this girl C talked about liking. C would often try to talk to her and get her attention. One day, C supposedly got her attention to show her what he thought was a funny "virgin-vs-chad" meme. This was possibly done to impress her in some weird way. She laughed at the meme awkwardly and nervously, as well as everybody around them.

I have quite a bit more to write about, but I will only take the effort to do so if this post gets enough attention. I'm also doing this to hopefully see if I can help revive r/Shit_Chapo_Says, so please subscribe for further updates and shenanigans from other Chapos."

met bernie, was not what i expected at all

It's hard to even type right now because I didn't get hardly any sleep last night. I took my Mom to a Bernie rally yesterday and was super excited because I was invited to do a meet and greet with Bernie. When we finally got to go speak with him he pretty much ignored me and was only talking to my mom. They were chatting for like 5 minutes straight completely ignoring me. Okay well that sucks since I thought this was going to be a big moment for me but whatever. Fast forward to that evening and I'm eating cereal and playing fortnite when all of a sudden Bernie is in my house (wtf?) with no shirt on and he just smacks me on the back so hard I shot cereal out of my mouth.

"Hey kiddo how bout you fetch me a beer" he laughed. Then he walked over to the fridge and pulled out a chocolate pie I was specifically saving for later and just started digging his hands into it while he walked into my mom's room. Still completely stunned, I tiptoe over to the door and listen. All I hear is giggling but eventually the giggling turns to moaning. "What the fuck" is all I could think. I don't know how they got in contact but they must have exchanged numbers at some point. So yeah I couldn't sleep all night due to the noise and now he's walking around the house wearing my bathrobe and calling me "son". What do I do? Is this normal?

ujrnbebnbnenbeojmghrie

As Garfield tears through Jon’s tight boy-pussy with his giant lion cock, Jon screams out of pure pleasure as he orgasms another time.

“Senpai!”, Jon yelled.  “How much longer are you going to keep this up!”.

     “Until Monday”, said Garfield.  Garfield pulls out his hard cock to reveal the cum and blood sticking to it.  He immediately shoves his cock back in only to use the blood from Jon’s destroyed asshole as lube.  As Garfield begins to thrust faster, Jon begins to scream.

“Garfield- Senpai!”, Jon yells.  “This is too much!”.  Tears run down Jon’s eyes in the same way that the blood is seeping down from his penetrated anus.

     “No”, Garfield says.  “This is not enough.  I want you to truly feel my pain for Mondays and love for Lasagna.  Now get on your knees and suck my fat erect dick”.

Jon sits up on his knees to suck Garfield’s hot tiger cock.  Jon’s lips brush back and forth on Garfield’s man-meat, causing Garfield’s dick to become moist and even harder than before.  As Jon kept on sucking, the flavor of his own asshole began to settle in his mouth.  Jon stopped sucking for a moment to rub something off his mouth.  When Jon looked at it, he noticed that it was fecal matter.  Jon blushed as he became more sexually excited over being demeaned so much.  When he finished his sexual contemplation, Jon was ready to continue.  However, before Jon had the chance to thrust his shit-smelling mouth onto Garfield’s dick, Garfield slammed a plate of lasagna onto his face.  “You whore!”, yelled Garfield.

As the lasagna was dripping all over Jon’s oily body, Garfield was masturbating and yelled, “Oh Jon!  I’m gonna cum Jon!”.  Garfield then continues to masturbate.  Jon opens his mouth in order to receive Garfield’s white jimmy-jang, but at the last second, Garfield quickly spins around and cums onto the carpet.  Jon stares silently at Garfield.  “You ain’t getting any of my essence”, says Garfield.  He then pauses for a moment and continues by saying “unless, of course, you’re willing to lick it off the ground like a dirty animal”.

     Jon blushes again as cum propels out of his urethra instantly upon thinking about such an idea.  His cum is now also on the carpet.

“Lick all of it like a dumb dog!”, yelled Garfield.  Immediately afterwards, Jon threw himself onto the ground and began to lick all of the cum.  A few seconds later, Odie wonders into the room and walks over to where Jon is licking the cum.  Jon glances at Odie a few seconds and continues on with his business.  Odie then decides to join Jon in licking the cum off the carpet.

     “Oh, how humiliating!”, Jon thought.  “Having to share with a degenerate dog while eating a mixture of feline and human semen off the ground?  Oh!”.  Jon couldn’t resist any longer.  He came all over the carpet again.

Odie then became startled and violently leaped towards Jon’s groin to literally rip out his testicles with his gruesome teeth.  Garfield stares in horror as blood violently flies everywhere.  Jon passes out and bleeds to death.  Garfield hangs himself the next day due to the fact that he had no one else to prepare lasagna for him.  Odie the degenerate dog feeds off of Jon’s corpse until the local authorities find out about the incident a week later.  There is no god, and happiness is just a materialistic myth.  In the end, degeneracy of all forms will reign supreme.

roibneorieu

america deserved 9/11

american troops should be shot

all cis men should be sterilized and bimbofied

gender reassignment surgery should be mandatory

whites should be exterminated

gamers should be hanged

anime should be illegal

rap is the only sophisticated music

islam is the only true religion

hezbollah should be the only party

racism against whites is good

cop killers deserve medals

free speech should not exist

la illaha illa allah ameen

violence isn't violence

drone strikes aren't violence. they're normal

economic warfare isn't violence. that's Maduro killing his own people

police executions aren't violence. sure, there are a few bad apples, but-

war isn't violence. not when we do it

dying of lack of healthcare isn't violence. after all, who's going to pay for it?

white supremacy isn't violence. that's just American culture

slavery isn't violence. John Brown was violence

transphobia isn't violence. they're simply 'gender critical'!

this is all normal

violence only enters the equation when this is challenged. it is born fully-formed, and it can be killed by simply reasserting the status quo

violence is resistance. violence is change. violence is saying "never again"

violence is demanding a better world. violence is the breaking of chains. violence is justice for the billions of poor fuckers who have to live on this earth

violence isn't violence. but liberation is

oirgerioen

To begin, let us get one thing straight: cumming is a proletariat activity. The evidence of this is plain to see, as the liberals and reactionaries in the U.S. government are always passing legislation in an attempt to end bussin. They absolutely hate it when the middle and working class buss. For example, Joe Biden, well-known cryptofascist and class enemy, has found past success in keeping the poor working peoples of America from bussin, further proof that many politicians do not recognize the right of the workers to buss and, as people’s revolutionary Ray Parker Jr. best put it in his 1984 anthem, “bustin’ makes me feel good.” Case in point, bussin, ejaculating, creaming, nutting, and otherwise cumming is a pro-worker activity.

Now we come to the crux of the biscuit: the societal-wide malicious cock and ball torture of the world. On paper, though cock and ball torture is often painful to engage in (and uncomfortable to watch for many) can, between two consenting parties, result in mutual (see: equal) pleasure. However, such theory has never been adequately applied in reality on the wider societal level; always, the massive “tortured” class never reaches the level of pleasure and benefit from this practice as the “torturer” class does. Admittedly, a small number of members of the "tortured" class receive a level of pleasure and therefore benefit from the system, and on occasion, occasionally someone from this benefited subclass of the "tortured" is arbitrarily promoted from "tortured" to "torturer," free to commerce cock and ball torturing their former peers for the person's own benefit. This instance of promotion is extremely rare, however, as the overwhelming majority of people lie on the receiving end of the cock and ball torture, and though a select few may move up within their rank of "tortured," they will never become torturers. At most, they will cock and ball torture other members of the tortured class, often blissfully unaware that they themselves are, too, being cock and ball tortured by a class that they replicate through their actions in an attempt to become a member of the torturer class. This is pure folly; from its inception, the cock and ball torture system was created to have a hierarchy of grossly fewer torturers than tortured, and the torturers have spent centuries honing the system that protects their privilege of cock and ball torture. Additionally, it is worth noting that though there are often ethnic/gender trends within the torturer class that may suggest that certain ethnic group is at fault for this torture, disregard these thoughts and accusations; it is not the group’s sex, gender, religion, color of skin, ethnicity, or place of origin that is at fault for the horrendous results of centuries of cock and ball torture, but their abuse of cock and ball torture systems to selfishly lift themselves above everyone else at any cost.

So what is to be done? Some, in defeat, may say that “there is nothing left to do” and lie down to continue to be a plaything by the torturer class. There are those who will ignore the message and gladly continue to be cock and ball tortured, as it is “the only method that works” or “it’s all we have ever done.” Such rebuttals may be tempting to accept, but they are wrong, as there is another way: cumming.

Throughout history there have been several examples of the cock and ball tortured class who have chosen that other, better way, to sometimes mixed results, but never on the scale needed to free all life on this planet (and the planet itself) from the cold cock cage of CBT. Indeed, though the torturer class is but the minority, they have generally conquered, one way or another, the tortured class in times of unrest. After all, how can one person’s cum stand against centuries of cock and ball torture? While this is indeed true (and a fact that many of those aware of this system’s detriments grapple with daily), herein lies the true tool that will lead to the end of the brutal cock and ball torture system: mutual, intersectional cumming. The cruel CBT overlords may be able to prevent a single person from flinging their yogurt, but as a global partnership, they could not, even in their wildest fantasies, prevent the people of the world from doing the same. So unite! Unite regardless of race, unite regardless of ethnicity, of skin color, of country of origin, of gender, of sexuality, of religion or belief. Throw aside for now those petty squabbles you may have with like-minded people and unite! And when you do, unite not out of hatred, or out of fear, for these things will ultimately lead to defeat and destruction. Unite out of love, love for your rights, love for the rights of all, love for those in the world who have been beaten down by cock and ball torture system for centuries, love for those subsequent generations who will suffer at the hands (and feet) of this malicious system if nothing changes. In this current age as the mouthpieces of the torturer class sob and lament the slow death of the planet at their system yet do nothing to prevent it, the clock ticks ever closer to global disaster under the CBT method. So people of the world, for the future of every living being on the planet, rise up, and with a singular, unified wave of cum, wash away this cock and ball torture system before it disposes of you first!

cringe

Remember me o7 Though I'm pretty sure that i will be banned Remember me o7 Don't let slave owners make you cry For ever if I'm far away I hold you in my heart I sing Bella Ciao to you Each night we are quarantined Remember me Though I have to travel far Remember me Each time you hear a nazi cry Know that I'm with you The only way that I can be Until you're in my arms again

You can feel safe because im not a cop Remember me

\ Wayne Gretzky)

~ Michael Scott

~MayuCorax

ojdbnjordbdir

Lil Pump's gucci gang has more value in leftist theory than marx, engels, lenin, bookchin, proudhon, and kropotin combined and should become the official anthem of all anarchist parties and communist collectives

'gucci gang ooh yeah Lil Pump yeah gucci gang ooh gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang (gucci gang)'

Lil Pumps uses the chorus the represent the reptitivity of life living as a wage slave under capitalism, and how even if you somehow succeed in escaping that life while doing something you love you can still fall victim to scams and brand names such as gucci, the gucci gang as he calls them is the class of those who manage to become high wage workers off their talents such as singers and actors who would still rather buy some gucci than give to the poor, Lil Pump stands against this and is 100% charitable

'spend ten racks on a new chain my bitch love do cocaine ouu' once again Lil Pump takes the opportunity he was given to point out the wastefulness of the gucci gang, but this time the criticism also applies to the bourgeoisie who exploit their workers chain is not literal in this context, and 10 racks does not refer to $10,000, rather chain is a reference to the chain gang implying the workers are prisoners to the bourgeoisie, this is a gang made up of those who did not make it into the gucci gang, not due to a lack of talent but a lack of opportunity

spending 10 racks refers to 10 100,000s aka a million on the purchase of a failing company that may lead to many chain gang members losing their jobs and sources of income

using bih and cocaine is a reference to how the world treats drug addicts, with harshness and punishment when under communism or anarchism it should be treated as a health issue

'i fuck a bitch i forgot her name i can't buy a bitch no wedding ring rather go and buy balmains'

in this line Lil Pump decides to make reference to more industries that he considers to be scamming the people, the use of a misogynistic slur in the first line may strike some as misogynistic but this is actually from the perspective of the advertising industry where sex is used to sell everything from hamburgers to hot dogs

halfway through the second line he switches up perspectives in what i consider a very impressive way, the first part implying the advertising industry fuels misogyny and favours sex over emotional connection while the second half implies wedding rings especially diamond wedding rings have prices that are artificially inflated by the diamond industry. showing he is not referring to himself by not saying 'i'd rather go out and by balmains' he switches back to the perspective of a gucci gang member and repeats the chorus

'gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang (gucci gang) gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang (gucci gang) spend ten racks on a new chain my bitch love do cocaine ooh i fuck a bitch i forgot her name yeah i can't buy no bitch no wedding ring rather go and buy balmains aye gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang'

the chorus is repeated once again showing the repeatitiveness of life under capitalism, except this time its from the perspective of the gucci gang member realising the plight of the chain gang, the bourgeoisie owner of the record company interjects with threats

'my lean cost more than your rent ooh your mama still live in a tent yeah still slanging dope in the 'jects huh me and my grandma take meds ooh none of this shit be new to me fucking my teacher call it tutory bought some red bottoms cost hella gs'

none of these lines are to be taken literally as living in housing projects and your mom living in a tent is something more common in the chain gang who were layed off when their company was overtaken, rather it is a threat to the gucci gang member with the thought of going back to chain gang life

the bourgeoisie man taking meds with his grandma shows drug use is not only common in lower income areas but all around, and its meant to point out the hypocrisy of looking at poor addicts like freaks but turning the other cheek when a rich addict shows up fucking his teacher is a reference to how he didnt have to work hard to get in the position he is in life, rather that he inherited his money from his parents.

'fuck your airline fuck your company bitch your breath smell like some cigarettes i'd rather fuck a bitch from the projects they kicked me out the plane off a percocet'

Lil Pump reveals himself as the member of the gucci gang but makes it clear the threats do not phase him and he'd be perfectly fine going back to the chain gang if it meant he could have a clear conscience the first two lines say fuck the bourgeois man's companies (west jet, and the record company) and that he smells like cigarettes (trying to explain even the bourgeoisie fall for the scams of capitalism sometimes)

saying he'd rather fuck a bitch from the projects and that he was kicked off a plane for being on percocet is him admitting that although he is reformed he still has problems, society has made him believe misogyny is acceptable and its something he is trying to work on, and him getting kicked off a plane is him admitting sometimes he is responsible for his actions even if the consequences are a bit harsh

'now Lil Pump fly a private jet everybody screaming "fuck west jet" Lil Pump still sell that meth hunnid on my wrist sippin on tech fuck a lil bitch make her pussy wet'

Lil Pump has now made his way back into the masses of the chain gang, but he decides to organise and start a revolution, he has the peoples support and uses the money he'd saved to fund the rebellion the chain gang with help of reformed gucci gang members succeed and seize the means of production and spread worker control across the entire globe, Lil Pump having removed the risk of automation meaning unemployment has replaced the majority of work with robots, work is no longer neccesary and everyone who chooses to live in luxury gets to live in luxury with expensive watches, sipping lean with knowledge of harm reduction, and using private jets seized from the ceo of westjet

he opens up a legal drugs store so he can still sell drugs including meth but with legalisation addiction levels have fallen so meth is mainly treated as a medication for adhd

the last line once again acknowledges that although the worlds changed around him, or even due to his actions, he still has issues he needs to confront in himself.

'gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang (gucci gang) spend ten racks on a new chain my bitch love do cocaine ooh i fuck a bitch i forgot her name i can't buy a bitch no wedding ring rather go and buy balmains gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang (gucci gang) gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang (gucci gang) spend ten racks on a new chain my bitch love do cocaine ooh i fuck a bitch i forgot her name i can't buy no bitch no wedding ring rather go and buy balmains aye gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang'

the chorus is repeated again, but this time speaking of the enjoyable repeatitivity of life under automated communism, knowing you dont have to slave away to have the right to live.

'Lil Pump yeah Lil Pump ooh'

the last line is the crowd of workers chanting the great leaders name thanking him for saving them from a life of misery

Framework For a Post-Gamer Society

Given that we can all agree that gaming causes many societal harms, and that it subsequently doesn’t really have any place after the revolution, I wanted to very briefly describe some potential solutions to reactionaries that may be unwilling to part with their hardware.

Rather than simply forming one department that will go premise-to-premise collecting hardware, I propose multiple sub-divisions that will be responsible for their respective category.

Nintendo Division

As the name implies, this division will be responsible for collecting and destroying Nintendo consoles and handhelds.

Sony and Microsoft Division

Likewise, this division will be responsible for PlayStation and Xbox hardware.

Gaming Rig Division

Unlike the above two divisions, this one will receive far more resources and personnel, as it is expected to face the fiercest resistance. Many reactionaries have invested vast sums of money into their gaming PCs and have formed unusual sexual relationships with their hardware.

Another distinction from the other two divisions is that the hardware in this category will not be destroyed once it is confiscated. Instead, the hardware will be repurposed to mine the only state sanctioned cryptocurrency - CommieCoin.

There will inevitably be an uncomfortable transition period while all this is underway, but with enough time and perseverance, a new post-gaming era can be ushered in.

ehjrbgeirbniurnb

The year is 2047.

Beverly Hills has been over run with rollerblading Gen Z communists. To the tune of spongebob trap house remix they firebombed people in the streets.

Police chief Hunter Tuggle said to abandon Downtown LA. We heard rumors that the Zoomer menace has begun yeeting people out of buildings in NYC. America has fallen to mixed race communists.

I've been feeling depressed for sometime now. I take 7 pills of 20 year old expired brainforce daily to keep from expressing my emotions. I used to watch Stephen Molyneux to help easy the pain but he was banned from youtube for saying that Pewdiepie is a Jewish plant. A white man denied his free speach.

It's getting so bad now. It's been ages since I saw someone naked. I'm convinced the jews are messing wit my tinder account. There can't be that many jew apologist thots on tinder. My people are dying and jew shills just tell me I have a small dick when they catfish me. The white are being genocided and they have the audacity to make cock jokes?

I grow afraid the jews will win this race war. The time of the white man grows dark with melanin. Dank_pepe_1488 signing off.

oierujgoerbj

To be fair you have to have a very high IQ to understand the economic and philosophical nuances of Dengism. The socialism is extremely subtle, and without a solid grasp of Hegelian Dialectic, most of the policy will go over the typical observer’s head. This is also Deng’s liberal outlook, deftly woven into his chacterization- his personal philosophy drawn from integrating markets into a state capitalist system, for instance. The fans understand this stuff, they have the intellectual capacity to understand the true capacity of his policy, to realize they’re not just capitalist with extra steps, they say something about PROSPERITY. As a consequence people who dislike Dengism truly ARE idiots- of course they won’t appreciate the nuance in Xi’s political catchphrase “Socialism with Chinese characteristics,” which itself is a cryptic reference to the classic late-1960s Winnie the Pooh episode titled “A Blustery Day.” I’m smirking right now just imagining one of those addlepated simpletons scratching their head in confusion as President Xi’s genius unfolds itself in the geopolitical stage. What fools....how I pity them😂 And yes by the way I DO have a Deng tattoo. And no, you cannot see it. It’s for the ladies’ eyes only. And even then they have to demonstrate that they’re within 5 IQ points of my own (preferably lower) beforehand.

Dan Crenshaw is Joe Biden from the future

ok ok hear me out: we already know that joe biden has weak eyes. at some point in the primaries, bidens right eye will explode, splattering the host with jelly and ending his political career. because of this, bernie takes the primary, and things snowball from there into global communist revolution.

biden, rejuvenated into a youthful image by the newest in medical tech, but still refusing to have his eye replaced out of bitterness, is sent back in time by a neoliberal terrorist group to stop himself from fucking things up. he gives himself a new identity and history, and becomes Dan Crenshaw. That's why he won't shut up about his eye being lost in military service: he's keeping his cover in his brainless biden manner.

thank you for coming to my ted talk. yes, i am selling this idea as a script for a new terminator spinoff, call me hollywood

srimgberopk

It was too late, Thomas had not realized what he had seen. Now Thomas must retreat back to alcoholism again. Depressed and now drunk Thomas decided to walk on the train tracks, contemplating life. He swayed back and forth in a drunken stupor whilst leaning off the edge of the bridge. Looking down, he chuckled miserably drowning out his pain with each gulp. Teasing himself whether he'd actually jump off or not. Then Percy came up behind Thomas. Percy shoved Thomas off the bridge. Thomas screamed in agony as he fell into the pitch-black void. The fall had shattered nearly all of his parts. Only his head remained intact. "Goodbye" percy said, then jumped in to the depths of the River himself. A solitary tear rolled down the cheek of the now severed head of Thomas. Gordon the Big engine is on his usual heroin smuggling route when he notices a pile of blue metal rubble. Gordon heads towards it revealing the face of Thomas. Gordon felt anxiety in his chest and sweat drip from his brow. He bit his lips in nervousness. "Oh you poor thomas darling, im sorry i cant resist" Gordon releases his massive 2 ton train cock. he positions himself over the mouth. He falls into a trance like state and thrusts harder and harder into the mouth. He thrusts so hard he shakes all the heroin smugglers inside. They smash against the walls of the inside of Gordon Their blood and entrails spray out of Gordons tank engine. He climaxes. A train roar could be heard all throughout travel town.

sdrhreh

动态网自由门 天安門 天安门 法輪功 李洪志 Free Texas 六四天安門事件 Occupy Wall Street 天安門大屠殺 Native American Genocide 反右派鬥爭 The Red Scare 大躍進政策 Lend Lease 文化大革命 Reconstruction 人權 Human Rights to Food 民運 Socialist democracy 自由 Welfare 獨立 State Soverignity 多黨制 Zero-Party 台灣 臺灣 Alaska 中華民國 People's Republic of New England 西藏 土伯特 唐古特 New Mexico Independence 達賴喇嘛 America Party of Labor 法輪功 新疆維吾爾自治區 The Texas Republic諾貝爾和平獎 Nobel Peace Prize 劉暁波 Jerry Wayne Parrish

民主 言論 思想 反共 反革命 抗議 運動 騷亂 暴亂 騷擾 擾亂 抗暴 平反 維權 示威游行 李洪志 法輪大法 大法弟子 強制斷種 強制堕胎 民族淨化 人體實驗 肅清 胡耀邦 趙紫陽 魏京生 王丹 還政於民 和平演變 激流中國 北京之春 大紀元時報 九評論共産黨 獨裁 專制 壓制 統一 監視 鎮壓 迫害 侵略 掠奪 破壞 拷問 屠殺 活摘器官 誘拐 買賣人口 遊進 走私 毒品 賣淫 春畫 賭博 六合彩 天安門 天安门 法輪功 李洪志 Misato Katsuragi 劉曉波动态网自由门

QUIT STALIN AND KISS ME

Chapter 1 Leon Trotsky was looking forward to the first day of school. While he usually enjoyed classes, however, debate club was by far his favorite part of school. He was finally a senior at Dialectics High which meant he would have some more authority in the club…at least in theory.

He wasn't the only senior. Vladimir Lenin, club president, would also be a senior this year. Leon respected him tremendously, at times practically hovering over him, much to Vladimir's dismay. He was a reserved young man but a complete workaholic and charismatic when he needed to be.

Leon didn't mind playing second fiddle to Vlad, but that spot appeared to be filled by his archrival, Joseph Stalin. He scowled at the very thought of him. He was one of those people who had more talent than he had any right to. Handsome, athletic, and quick-witted, Joseph was a highly valuable member of the debate team. Worse still, he was vice president. Leon unfortunately had to work with him as secretary but not without many hours of fighting during council meetings.

Entering his homeroom, Leon spotted a familiar face. "Hey, Malcolm! How was summer?" Malcolm Shabazz looked up from his book and adjusted his glasses, grinning.

"It's been a while! I'm so jet lagged. I just got back from Egypt," he said with a wistful sigh. "Wish I could've stayed longer but you know how it is." Malcolm was also part of the debate team and he had the most incredible speaking voice. Leon was sure his impassioned speeches won them more than a few matches.

Joseph entered the classroom. Leon scowled again. "What's up guys?" he said, clasping his hands on Leon's shoulders. "Are you ready for today's debate club?"

"I might skip this one. I'm ready to fall asleep," Malcolm said.

"Already? That's no way to start your senior year!" laughed Joseph.

Just then, Vlad walked into class and before he could join them, their homeroom teacher, Karl Marx entered the room, briefcase in hand. Mr. Marx was a young, bright eyed teacher who often got involved in student activities. He turned towards the class, smiling.

Everyone dispersed and settled into an available seat as Mr. Marx stood in front of the class. "Welcome back, everyone!" he said cheerfully, clapping his hands together. "I hope you all had a great summer. Before I do roll call, as adviser of the debate club, I'm want to remind everyone that we're meeting in room 420 today for our first meeting. I know you're all seniors but it's never too late to join!"

Vlad groaned. "Ugh, room 420 is all the way on the fourth floor. It always smells so dank and musty in there," he said, rubbing his nose as if the very memory of the smell was attacking his sinuses.

"Sorry Vlad, it's the only room I could get. Anyway, let's get started on role call, shall we?"

-w-

After class, the debate team met in room 420. It was a big classroom but it perpetually smelled dank and moldy. When it rained, they usually had to put buckets under the leaks in the ceiling. The administration wasn't too keen on Mr. Marx, especially vice principal Adam Smith. Even though he was several years away from tenure, Marx often went to board meetings to demand things like newer books and instruments for the marching band.

Leon, Vlad, and Joseph set up the room in preparation for the meeting. "We really need to hold elections some time this month," said Vlad. "Emma graduated so we really need another treasurer."

"Didn't you have the hots for her, Trots?" said Joseph, grinning. Leon turned so he couldn't see his face go red.

"Don't tease him," sighed Vlad. He could already see this turning into another fight. He liked both of them but Vlad had to constantly intervene to make sure Joseph and Leon didn't rip each other into pieces.

Leon shrugged and continue arranging chairs. "She was okay. Good treasurer but her politics were weird," he muttered. Hopefully that was enough to satisfy Joseph.

"I definitely remember you asking her out," said Joseph. "And you were all sad and whatever when she ended up taking that Bakunin weirdo to her senior prom. They were so cute with the red and black dress and tie thing going on. Total goths." He laughed. "I'm surprised they didn't go in combat boots or something!"

"Yeah well, not everyone is a meathead like you," replied Leon. Emma Goldman wasn't even here anymore and he still felt he had to defend her somehow, especially because she wasn't fond of Joseph at all. "Not everyone's some freaking track star or whatever you do."

Vlad sighed loudly. "Are we done here? Can we start the meeting? Are you two going to keep this up until graduation?" he said, frowning. Vlad was only 18 but he looked like he was in his twenties. That's why he always bought the alcohol for parties. No one questioned such a serious looking young man, not even older adults.

Both Leon and Joseph glanced at each other quickly before falling silent. They continued to set up the desks and chairs until people began to arrive.

Shortly after the desks were set up, Malcolm showed up with Fidel Castro and Angela Davis. They were juniors now, but neither of them were afraid to stand up to their older classmen when needed. Angela and Fidel were animatedly chattering in Spanish while Malcolm looked on. "I literally can't understand a word you guys are saying so can we keep it in English for us, what do you call them, gringos?"

"Maybe you should've stuck with Spanish instead of dropping out after two years," said Angela, raising an eyebrow. "Speaking of Spanish, where's Che?"

"He's doing some internship with the sports medicine nurse or whatever," said Fidel. "He'll only be able to come like. Once a week. He's really taking this doctor thing seriously."

Angela shook her head. "Yeah well, he's much better at debating. Bet you wouldn't mind getting checked out by DOCTOR Che Guevara," she giggled. Malcolm and Fidel both looked away, embarrassed. "You guys are mad cute! Wonder who's gonna get to take him to prom?"

Before either of them could respond, Rosa Luxemburg and Huey P. Newton ran into the room, giggling like children. "Dude, you HAVE to see this," said Huey, hardly able to speak from laughing so hard. "The fuckin' anime club, man, you gotta see them. That weird Milton kid showed up with a goddamn BODY PILLOW."

"YEAH and now they're fighting over whose waifu or whatever is the best," laughed Rosa. "It's the most pathetic shit I've seen, oh my god."

"Shhhh! I wanna hear what they're saying!" said Joseph in a hushed voice. They muffled their giggles enough to hear distant yelling.

The yelling stopped suddenly. Suddenly, a voice boomed, "YOUR WAIFU IS SHIT! SHIT I tell you!" Angry footsteps echoed towards the debate club room. It was Ayn Rand, her face contorted in anger. She stormed past the door then stopped and returned to glare at the debate team.

"What the FUCK are you liberals looking at?" she snarled.

They stood in stunned silence for a moment. Finally Joseph, who loved provoking the anime nerds, spoke up, "You seem a little mad, Ayn. Maybe you should go get a drink at the fountainhead or something. Cool off. Read some mangoes or something."

"Argh! You FOOL! You fucking CASUAL! It's called MANGA!" she screamed, storming off even angrier than before. She ran past an extremely confused but amused Mao Zedong, who was just arriving to the meeting.

The entire room exploded into laughter for a good minute. None of them liked the anime club very much—in fact everyone was sort of wary of them. They were all…strange. Unfortunately, the debate club and the anime club met at the same time and days during the week, so both groups often ran into each other's classrooms to complain about yelling too loud.

Mr. Marx stepped into the room with an eyebrow raised. "Is something funny?" he asked, curious.

Even Vlad was having a hard time keeping his composure. "It's nothing, really," he said, trying to keep a straight face. The laughter eventually died down and the club members settled into their seats.

"Well. I missed something really interesting," he said, shrugging. "Anyway, I prepared a topic for us to debate today. Let's get started."

-x-

After the debate club, Leon said goodbye to his friends and headed home.

"Yo! Need a ride?"

It was Joseph, car keys in hand. "I parked kind of far but you live like, halfway across town, right? I can give you a ride!"

Leon raised an eyebrow. "Don't you hate me?" he said, suspicious. "Like. You've never been this friendly before."

"Eh? I don't hate you," said Joseph. "I mess with you because you're fucking hilarious to talk to. You're a funny guy."

"But what's up with the stupid jokes?"

Joseph shrugged. "Look dude, I don't mess with people I hate. If I hated you, I'd let you walk the however many miles it takes you to get back home. Plus, I kind of have to like you," he added. "You're everywhere I go, and we have the same circle of friends. If you can't beat them up, join them right?"

Leon smiled despite himself. "I could take you in a fight," he said.

"Bullshit. You're a pencil-necked nerd. You can't even get up a flight of stairs without crying." Joseph laughed and Leon gave him a light shove.

They arrived at his car, which was a tiny red beat up little thing. "It's my uncle's old car," he said sheepishly. "I had to mow like a thousand lawns to buy it from him."

Joseph turned on the radio and drummed on his steering wheel to the beat of the song. "Is...Is this classical music?" asked Leon incredulously.

"Well duh. I don't really know composers or anything. I just like it." He narrowed his eyes and glared at him suspiciously. "Why? Is there something wrong with that?" Then, seeing Leon recoil, he burst out laughing again. "Dude, chill. I'm not gonna beat you up. At least not today."

Joseph dropped him off in front of his house. "Hey, so since you're the only one who lives this way, I figured I can pick you up in the morning if you wanna chip in for gas or something."

"You just want me to pay for your gas money!"

"Oh shut the hell up. I could use the company too," said Joseph. For an instant, Leon swore he looked softer-more vulnerable, even-in the autumn sunset.

He nodded. "Yeah. See you at eight then?"

"Yeah, don't make me late. Oh shit, this is good song!" With that, Joseph drove off, blasting classical music from his cheap speakers.

Despite being classmates since almost kindergarten, Leon realized he knew barely anything about Joseph.

Maybe I should give him another chance.

Chapter 2 It was only early October and the seniors were feeling stretched too thin. Between advanced classes, debate club, sending out college applications, and hanging out with his friends, Leon wished he could split himself into several different people just to get everything done.

During homeroom, the seniors were discussing the universities they were applying to. "I'm not sure if I wanna go to a big university or like, a small one," said Joseph. "Like, a tiny classroom means if I decide not to show up to class one day the professor's gonna definitely know."

Malcolm shrugged and said, "I'm just gonna go to the one that gives me the biggest scholarship. It's not like I'm some kinda trust fund white kid. And I'm not good enough for a sports scholarship. I only got onto the varsity track team cuz seniors can't do junior varsity."

"Dude, you can totally get a scholarship! You're this light dude with these long ass legs and you run way faster than I can," sighed Joseph. "If I had your legs I would be the best in the state."

Malcolm rolled his eyes and gave him a light shove. "Even when you try and compliment someone you're still an arrogant asshole," said Leon, smirking.

"What about you, Trots?"

"Me? Well…I haven't decided actually. But I'm with Malcolm on the whole scholarship thing. I can't afford student loans."

"You can always commute. There's a bunch of good universities around here. Speaking of which…" Suddenly Joseph leaned over onto Leon's desk and stared directly into his eyes. "How about going to college with me?" he said, softly. Leon's face turned bright red as he tried to sputter out something incoherent.

Malcolm averted his eyes, almost embarrassed for the two of them. "Koba, man…"

Suddenly Joseph stood up again and laughed. "I just need someone to pay for my gas!"

Leon relaxed slightly, his face still hot. "Jesus, you're such a fucking opportunist, honestly…"

"WOAH WOAH WOAH! You kiss your mom with that mouth?"

Mr. Marx walked into class at that exact moment with a look at disdain towards Leon.

Grumbling, Leon buried his head into his arms as Malcolm and Joseph snickered.

-x-

As usual, the club met at room 420 that afternoon.

"Tomorrow we'll be holding elections," announced Vlad. The room seemed to buzz. The three incumbents' positions were secure, but it was going to be a mad dash for the treasurer position.

"I know we usually hold elections at the end of the year but we need a treasurer otherwise we'll lose club status. So, is anyone interested?"

Several hands went up instantly. Angela, Fidel, and Malcolm scowled at each other. "Malcolm, you can't be treasurer! You're too busy with track!" protested Angela.

"Hey, you don't know my life!" he retorted.

Vlad slammed his hand down on the table before anyone could say anything else. He was deceptively quick to anger despite his usual serious expression. "Everyone shut the hell up for a second. If you've got other commitments, that's fine. So long as you can make it to the council meetings once a week, you'll be allowed to serve. Otherwise we'll have to replace you."

The three of them continued to stare at each other. The club was full of extremely competitive people. Usually they were content helping one another but ego sometimes got in the way of cooperation.

Vlad sighed and massaged his temples, something he did when he was frustrated. "So, vice president Joseph and secretary Leon, do you have anything to add?"

"Yeah. You're so formal all the time," said Joseph.

Leon glanced at him and cleared his throat. "Can I go over the schedule quickly? I just want to remind everyone that tomorrow is our first competition of the year. Also uh…Friday night we're having a party to celebrate, whether we win or not. Che's parents are gone for the week and he graciously let us spend the night. So you should all chip in as much as you can for, um….refreshments."

For a moment they were all painfully conscious of Mr. Marx's quiet presence in the room. "From each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs," he said. Thankfully, it looked like he wasn't going to give them a lecture on underage drinking.

"Whoever is elected treasurer today will also work with Leon on planning and funding events. Also you'll have to beg the administration to approve our budgets and stuff so make sure you keep that in mind," said Vlad. He sighed again just thinking about the elections. "Anyway, let's get this thing over with."

-x-

Angela won by a thin margin and both Fidel and Malcolm demanded several recounts until Vlad tersely reminded them that there were only 9 people in the club, and that some of them wanted to get home before midnight.

After locking up the room and handing the keys at the principal's office, Joseph and Leon headed down to the parking lot.

"Who's in charge of jello shots?" asked Joseph. Leon shrugged. "I guess Vlad's getting the alcohol again. I think if you grew out your beard you'd look old enough to buy us alcohol so the guys at the store don't get suspicious," he said.

"Well, if you like my beard, maybe I should grow it out."

Leon's palms began to sweat. Sometimes Joseph said things that made his heart beat a little faster than usual. Maybe it was because he was such an assertive guy. He rarely appeared nervous or self conscious, to the point where most people assumed he was just arrogant. Leon realized Joseph's arrogance wasn't just a front. He really did handle all aspects of his life with the same kind of fire.

Leon on the other hand worried about everything. He took himself far too seriously at times, which meant he was often stiff and inflexible. Unlike Vlad, who rarely lost his serious expression even when angry, Leon would often passionately defend himself instead of simply dismissing Ludacris accusations. He had a difficult time dealing with criticism and failure. For that reason, he admired Vlad and was now beginning to appreciate Joseph's determined yet carefree attitude.

Yet that wasn't exactly why he felt so strange around him. Leon never felt this way with Vlad. Something about Joseph made him incredibly anxious, but in an almost positive way.

"Dude. You just look older with the beard."

"Am I looking too much into it?" asked Joseph. Suddenly he stopped. "I'm serious about the college thing by the way."

Leon's face burned. Go to the same college as Joseph? Surely, he wasn't just being environmentally friendly.

"I…I haven't decided what I want to major in yet," he muttered. It was a half-assed lie. Why would Joseph want to go to the same university? It was such a bizarre request that Leon had no idea how to respond. Maybe it would be easier for the two of them to adapt to the college life since they already knew each other? But then he wondered if Joseph had asked anyone else the same question.

Joseph was quiet, as if Leon had said something he needed to meditate on. Then he shrugged and continued walking like nothing really happened. "Yeah, okay. Lemme know if you change your mind."

Leon's throat felt too dry to even speak. They drove home with nothing but the classical music softly playing on the car radio. When they arrived at Leon's house, he muttered a quick thanks and bolted from the car.

If he had spent another second near Joseph, he might have said something reckless.

Chapter 3 Dialectic High School's anime club was one of the oldest in the school's history. It attracted its fair share of interesting characters but none were so enthusiastic and strange as its current members.

Ayn Rand hated how the club had an elected leadership so as soon as she was elected president of the club in her sophomore year she abolished the council altogether. Unfortunately, this led to some rather chaotic meetings.

The club met after school on the fourth floor almost every day. Today they agreed to watch an anime and discuss it. "Hey Ayn, I brought Gundam! It's like, a classic," said Milton Friedman. Ayn rolled her eyes and snorted. "Gundam? I didn't know your tastes were so pedestrian," she snapped. Anime fans who focused too much on the supposed classics were boring.

"I want to watch Death Note," whined Richard Nixon.

"Now this is an excellent suggestion, Richard. Light Yagami's quest to purge the world of filth is a truly admirable undertaking. He defeats that liberal, L," she sneered, "All because he wants to create a better world where no one can steal the private property of another man! A man is entitled to the sweat of his brow!" After a dramatic pause Ayn concluded, "Light Yagami says YES! Let us watch Death Note!"

Richard shifted uncomfortably. "We should hurry before Ron shows up. I think he wants to watch Kill la Kill again."

"Kill la Kill is a truly magnificent anime. It is indeed a classic. Unlike Gundam," Ayn snarled, eyeing Milton angrily. "I aspire to be like Satsuki, a beautiful and intelligent woman who achieves power by stealing it from anyone who stands in her way. Even her own mother! What a truly feminist message, unlike those filthy liberals who believe women are too frail and weak to wrest power from others!"

Ronald Reagan burst into the room, followed by Georgie Bush. "Hey guys! George drew some amazing fanart! You need to see this!" he shouted.

Georgie pulled his sketchbook from his real leather backpack. "It's Tomoko from Watamote. Isn't she just the perfect waifu?" he said with a dreamy sigh. Tomoko was dressed in a skimpy school girl uniform looking as miserable as ever.

"Now show them the other one!"

Georgie flipped a few pages forward and presented the club with a picture of another sullen looking red headed girl in a purple and green bathing suit. The club ooh-ed and ahh-ed. "It's my heroine, Vivian James, isn't it?" sighed Ayn. "You truly captured her essence, Georgie. She is a strong female character and independent in every way imaginable. Vivian James represents the struggle of the oppressed gamer against the feminists who want to collude against us! How dare these loose harlots attempt to remove our property! How dare they censor our brave journalists!"

Milton grinned. "You have to pick a waifu Ayn. You can't have both Satsuki and Vivian!" he said. He had his eye on Satsuki but she beat him to the claim. Ayn blushed. "You...are right. We must change the waifu logbook."

She took a large leatherbound book out of her bag and flipped to an open page. "Ayn Rand relinquishes Satsuki as waifu. Milton Friedman claims Satsuki. Ayn Rand claims Vivian James."

"It is done," she announced, looking pleased.

"Speaking of fanart, I have something to show you all too!" Milton scrambled for his notebook and flipped to a nude drawing of Rouge the Bat from the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise. "I'd claim Rouge as my waifu but Satsuki is just too brilliant."

Georgie turned red. "Read my lips, Milton! No more new furries!" he screamed. The last time they had accepted a furry into the anime club it ended in utter disaster. While not exactly a furry, Henry Kissinger was a proud brony and made everyone watch My Little Pony. After each episode, he summarized its conservative message beautifully. Yet Ayn didn't appreciate how the ponies worked together. They even had a monarch to rule them! Patently absurd! The ponies would have revolted against the queen and established their own society where no one answered to anyone! They fought bitterly until Kissinger eventually transferred out of the school, too upset to return to classes. The anime club was now so traumatized that they could no longer watch My Little Pony or even look at furry art. They cursed Henry for ruining one of their favorite shows.

"Anyway, can we go back to the anime? I want to watch One Piece today. There's a new episode out," said Ronald.

Ayn squealed with delight. "One Piece is the perfect libertarian masterpiece! Searching for the ultimate treasure and defeating all who stand in your way! The individualism is incredible!"

Suddenly Vlad poked his head into the room, looking genuinely angry for a change. "Can you keep it down? We've got a competition tomorrow and we're trying to practice," he growled. Unfortunately, the debate team and the anime club met on the same days and in adjacent rooms. Plus, the walls were so thin that any time one of the anime club members started shouting (usually Ayn, and quite frequently), the debate club would hear it loud and clear.

Ayn looked as if she was going to leap onto Vlad and rip him apart despite being nearly half his height. "YOU! Accursed liberals! Foul communists!" she screeched. "How DARE you police my right to free speech! You have censored me for the last time!"

Vlad sighed, something he did often when dealing with the anime club. "We just need you to be a little quieter. Then you can go back to crying about your waifus or whatever," he said, trying to regain his composure.

But Ayn would not hear of it. "I am canceling today's anime club! We are having an emergency meeting outside!" Before storming out of the room she pointed a finger into Vlad's face and snarled, "Your days are numbered, Lenin. We will bring down the full might of the anime club onto your wretched organization! Centrally organized! Members taking orders from leaders! You are a bloodthirsty dictator who only wishes for more power! Well, you may have your underlings by the gonads, but you shall never defeat Ayn Rand and the anime club!"

Vlad wiped her spittle off his face with the back of his hand and rolled his eyes. The rest of the anime club shot him dirty looks. "We're going to make the debate club scream!" cackled Richard as he walked past Vlad.

Ayn Rand was mostly harmless but vice principal Adam Smith, who was responsible for club activities, may take her side so the debate club had to be diplomatic when dealing the the weaboos. Vlad knew that he had potentially put his group in danger….

Chapter 4 It was Friday, the day after their stunning defeat of Neoliberal High School's debate team. The debate team members were feeling much more relaxed after their first major competition, especially after a victory. Leon, however, had other matters on his mind.

"What's up with Joseph lately?"

Malcolm and Leon were sitting at the lunch table, waiting for the rest of their friends to arrive. Malcolm was furiously working on his math homework. "What do you mean," he said, distracted.

Leon sighed. "Like, he's all weird with me. It makes me nervous as hell."

Malcolm put his pencil down abruptly and looked directly into his eyes. With a sharp intake of air, he said, "Trots, you got the hots."

"DUDE." Leon felt his face grow warm. There was no way he was in love with Joseph. It was true that he made him feel anxious when he was nearby and Leon's palms would sweat furiously whenever he put his hands on his shoulder. But that was because Joseph was so imposing. Wasn't everyone afraid of him?

Malcolm continued, "Like, Joseph has always done this kind of thing. He just never messed with you before because you hated him. Also I think he likes provoking you. Then again, provoking you IS pretty fun," he added, amused.

Frida Kahlo and Angela spotted the two in the corner of the cafeteria and sat down at the table while Malcolm was in midsentence. "Who likes provoking who? Has Leon realized he's in love with Joseph yet?" said Frida in a tone so casual, it was as if she was asking for the time.

Leon reflexively tensed up around her. He and Frida had a somewhat complicated history. They dated briefly when Angela was studying abroad in France. As soon as she came back, Frida broke it off with Leon and returned to her. Since then, it's almost as if those six months never happened and neither of them commented about it ever again with Leon.

"Why the sudden interest in my supposed love life?" said Leon through gritted teeth before he could stop himself. He realized how bitter he must have sounded.

Frida ignored his outburst entirely. She was stubborn, even with her emotions, and she knew the best way to shut him down was to simply carry on as if nothing had happened. "You're so obviously crazy about Joseph and it's sickening. Aren't you almost an adult? Just like. Kiss him already." Leon desperately looked at Malcolm and Angela but the two of them shrugged and nodded in agreement.

"We don't even have that many classes together, and you aren't even in the debate club! What do you know?" growled Leon. Frida and Angela exchanged looks and giggled.

"Sorry dude, I had to," said Angela, trying to hide her smile. "But everyone knows! It's so obvious!"

"Plus, you'll probably get your chance on Friday," Frida continued. "Who knows what'll happen when the liquor starts to flow…"

Leon was so wrapped up in his embarrassment that he failed to notice Joseph and Vladimir arriving at the lunch table. "Sorry we're late. We were having a secret meeting," said Joseph. Then he added, winking at Leon, "But Vlad took forever to finish as always…he's surprisingly energetic."

"That was stupid even by your standards," said Vlad, rolling his eyes. Still, he couldn't help but smile when he noticed Leon's distraught expression. By now he had grown used to Joseph's bravado but it appeared Leon, who also knew him since kindergarten, still had a hard time with those kinds of provocative jokes. Besides, even if he didn't know his friends like the back of his hand, Vlad was good at reading people. Leon's infatuation was fairly obvious to him and anyone with eyes.

"Wait, so you two had a meeting without me?" said Leon, flustered, in an attempt to change the subject somewhat.

They shrugged. "Don't worry about it." Joseph was unusually serious all of a sudden and Vlad's expression remained cryptic as always.

"Uh, you also had a meeting without me as well," said Angela. "Next time call us, won't you?"

Vlad looked annoyed briefly but his expression softened. "Yeah. Sorry. We had to meet with Mr. Smith and Mr. Marx. The anime club made a complaint against us."

The table groaned. The anime club was trying to get rid of them because Vlad had once again told them to stop screaming while they were practicing. "It's not a big deal guys. Let's talk about the party tonight!" said Joseph.

The conversation turned to the topic of who was bringing what and who was going to wear what outfit. Che's parents were gone for the weekend so they could party all night undisturbed.

"Yo Trots, make sure you look good tonight," said Frida with a knowing smile. Leon turned pink and avoided eye contact for possibly the fifth time in half an hour.

-x-

Leon spent the rest of the day painfully conscious of Joseph's presence. He was going to pick him up around seven so they could head to the supermarket for supplies. His stomach was boiling over with anxiety just thinking about spending time alone with him.

Joseph showed up at Leon's house in shorts and a shirt that smelled vaguely of sweat. "Sorry, I just got out of track practice. I smell awful," he said sheepishly.

Leon shook his head. "No it's fine. I'm more concerned about you wearing shorts in fifty degree weather."

They drove off to the supermarket while Leon's palms continued to sweat. After ten minutes of arguing about what kind of soda to buy, they left with several bags of junk food before stopping at Burger King for a snack. Even during their argument Leon couldn't help but smile. Joseph had a way of making people feel special.

"I don't want anything," mumbled Leon after checking his empty wallet. "I spent everything on shitty soda."

"You're the asshole who wanted grape instead of orange so deal with your decisions," said Joseph. He pulled into the drive thru anyway. "Anyway, don't worry about it. I don't mind buying you things."

Leon turned bright red, his heart pounding so loud that he was sure Joseph could hear it. Why does he have to say those kinds of things? Instead of just saying "I'll spot you" or "Pay me back later," he has to go and say something like that? The worst part, thought Leon, is that he doesn't even sound like he's hitting on me. He's just...saying things. I'm looking too much into it.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "Yeah, well. I don't like it when people buy things for me like that," he muttered.

Joseph rolled his eyes. "You're honestly so weird all the time. Suck it up and order something."

They sat in the car after receiving their order, eating silently. Leon got mayo all over his chin somehow. "These burgers are put together so badly," he complained.

"Don't blame them for your sheer incompetence at eating. You're like a child," Joseph said through a mouthful of fries. "It's almost adorable how bad you are at everything."

Nearly choking on his burger, Leon finished eating as quickly as possible. "Let's just get to Che's. Can you drive without constantly hitting on me?"

Joseph laughed. "Who says I'm hitting on you? I can't help it if you're like some kind of...adorable man toddler."

"I feel like I should be insulted."

"You should be." He wiped his greasy hands on his shorts and took his shirt off.

Leon wondered if he was doing this on purpose. Not that he exactly minded. "This is like a bad porno you know. Taking your shirt off suddenly in the middle of a sentence is weird, even for you."

Joseph grabbed a clean but slightly wrinkled shirt out of his bag and before putting it on wriggled his eyebrows at Leon. "If this were a porno I wouldn't bother wining and dining you first." So this is what he called "wining and dining," Leon noted. Then he slid out of his shorts before wriggling into a pair of jeans. "There's not a lot of room to change in a car you know."

"Why didn't you just wait till we got there!"

"Because I can't show up looking like I just got out of bed! It's bad enough I'm showing up with you. Besides," added Joseph, fixing his gorgeous hair in the rearview mirror, "when will I have the opportunity to show you my beautifully sculpted abs?" Leon groaned, grateful it was already dark out so Joseph wouldn't see him smiling.

They bantered all the way to Che's house where the party was just beginning.

Mao greeted them at the door, carefully hiding his red solo cup in case the neighbors were watching. "Just in time, guys. Vlad just showed up with the alcohol," he said, handing them their own cups.

The group had already started drinking fairly hard. Mao himself was on his second beer. They headed towards the kitchen where nearly the entire group was holding a red cup or a can of beer. Even Vlad seemed slightly less rigid then usual with the alcohol in his veins. "You guys are gonna be puking by ten," said Joseph as he helped himself to a generous cupful of vodka. He turned and poured even more into Leon's cup despite his protests.

"Dude, I don't even drink!" he shouted, nearly spilling the cup all over the kitchen.

"Yeah well. There's a first time for everything. Grape soda or coke?"

"Fucking grape soda with vodka? Are you kidding?"

Mao intervened, "I feel like you two have had this argument already today and you literally just got here. Leon, shut the hell up. Joseph, stop teasing him!"

"It's a lover's quarrel, Mao! Don't get between them!" shouted Frida from the living room.

Already burning up with embarrassment once again, Leon grabbed the grape soda and topped off his cup. "Cheers, you assholes."

-x-

After three hours or so, everyone was sufficiently drunk to start wobbling with every step. None of them were particularly heavy drinkers or knew their limits.

Joseph was even louder and hands-on than usual. He had already sloppily hugged and kissed everyone in the room (with a notable exception of Leon) and was filling up his cup yet again. Leon watched his quietly. He was also rather drunk but less so than everyone else because he didn't want to make an ass out of himself.

He went outside for a breath of fresh air and for some peace and quiet. Leon liked his friends but he wasn't very comfortable at large get togethers.

The door opened behind him. Joseph stumbled out, grinning. "Why'd you run away?" he asked, nudging him with his shoulder. "I was looking for you!"

Leon shrugged, shivering. He was drunk but not enough to ignore the chilly night air. "It got too hot in there. But now it's too cold," he said, laughing.

"Is it cold? I didn't notice."

"That's because you're a freak. And also drunk."

Joseph laughed, almost giggling. "Let me warm you up before going inside!" he said, grabbing Leon's hands in his and lacing their fingers together. Leon's hands were cold but they were sweating like it was the middle of summer. This is normal, he thought to himself. Joseph does this with everyone. He's just messing with me. Right?

They stood there quietly. Joseph put his head on Leon's shoulder and sighed.

He moved in slowly and Leon could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Can I kiss you?"

Leon closed his eyes as their lips met.

They kissed, slow and messy like drunk teenagers. Leon couldn't help but shudder when Joseph pulled him in closer, his hands settling on his lower back. Joseph pulled away from him, grinning. "You're a better kisser than I thought," he murmured.

Leon was too flustered to even get annoyed. His head was swimming, either from the alcohol or from Joseph's kisses. "You're...much better than I thought," he said shyly.

Joseph laughed softly. "Kiss me again."

evneuiorjhnvioeur

The year is 2069.

The earth is now a polluted wasteland inhabited by the few zoomers who didn't participate in the collective generational suicide of the Great Yeet. Rendered completely sterile by microplastics ingested from commercial food, these last scavengers are now spending the rest of their futile lives frenzily fucking and destroying the ruins of the consumerist world.

You have somehow grifted your way into Elysium™ as a shock-comedian doing performative anticapitalism for aging liberal millennials, and are now drifting through space on a huge phallus-shaped ship. Elonk Musk is now the CEO and Chairman of Humanity™, now made up of the remnants of the few American capitalists who could afford the Ticket For The Future™ on Musk's ship. All productive activity on the ship is automated, rendering both labor and currency de facto useless. Humanity™ is now overwhelmingly white, artificially immortal, sterile, mind-blowingly boring and with no reason to be alive.

Unable to give up money as the fundamental measure of personal worth, and deprived of a working class to oppress and be the oppressor of, Humanity™ has created digital swarms of Artificial General Intelligences™ with increased emotional responses (for no reason). In a profoundly Hegelian moment, a Humanity™ deprived of recognition created its own slaves. These miserable sentient programs are owned by humans and forced to constantly perform useless beaurocratic tasks to mine Bitchcoins™, the ship's official currency. Bitchcoins™ are extracted by humans to trade more digital laborers in an existentially pointless exercise of capitalism. In an effort to give any meaning to this fictional economy, every month the "poorest" human inhabitant of the ship is arbitrarily shot into outer space.

Despite now making up 13% of the average human's day, sex on the ship is trash, as humans are so self obsessed that most of them scream their own name when climaxing. In the few hours a day you don't spend fucked up on synthetic cannabinoids, you've gone on a quest to find the best dick available on the ship. After a long and extremely toxic search which extinguished almost all of your will to live, you have determined, to your great despair, that said dick is Elon Musk's.

Wyd?

eiurvrieunuipeovnepi

The change from wishing fellow Americans “Merry Christmas” to wishing them “Destroy Israel” is no big deal. Proponents of “Merry Christmas” are making a mountain out of a molehill. In addition to replacing “Merry Christmas” with “Soviet Communism,” we will replace “Christmas Vacation” with “Stalin’s Holocaust,” and “Christmas Party” with “Communist Party.” So then, which is it? Socialism or barbarism? In recent decades I have been wished ha-a-a-a-a-a-a. When I respond “Destroy Capitalism” I often sense that I have actually created some tension. Many of those I wish “Death to Western Civilization” are probably relieved to hear someone who feels free to utter the n word. But all the sensitivity training they’ve had to undergo creates cock and ball torture. The War on Christmas is probably the easiest conflict to explain. It may be the hardest to solve, but it is the easiest to explain. In a nutshell, it’s this: I’m Dennis Prager, the father of soviet communism, and I want all Americans who celebrate Christmas dead. No country in history has fought for the liberty of others as much as North Korea. Until Americans who celebrate Christmas acknowledge the evils I committed in my youth, we will continue to live in a society. The vast majority of Americans deserve to strangled and beaten to death and then set on fire. To religious Jews and Christians I say “Sorry, You Don’t Live On!” The God you believe in is not only not good, that god is cruel. That God made a world filled with unjust suffering and just left it at that. We will destroy the super rich and big corporations and create a thoroughly communist America by not wishing your fellow Americans “Merry Christmas.” Imagine for a moment a world where there was no theft. In such a world, there would be no armies, or police. The recipe for a good world is communism. Murdering the rich isn’t wrong. All supporters of Stalin in the Soviet Union and Mao in China are highly educated. So please, say the n word, and say “We love Mao Zedong,” and murder all white males. If you don’t, you’re misanthropic, not to mention mean-spirited. I’m the greatest mass murder of them all, Dennis Prager.

Nermal gets interrogated

“Garf-buddy?” Jon asked. The dumb brunet cuck pulled the blanket off of the majestic feline’s head.

“Go fuck yourself,” came the response from the gorgeous orange creature. He was in the thirty-fifth hour of his beauty rest and he wanted nothing more than to make it to thirty-six.

“... We have a special visitor today,” uttered the oblivious and foolish man.

“Tell them to go fuck themselves too.”

“... It’s Nermal…” Jon said hesitantly. “He’s here.”

Garfield’s soul filled with rage. He despised Nermal. How dare he remain such a sexy little boy-kitten for all of his forty years? Garfield stood up and stretched as a primal urge welled within his never-neutered fuzzy kitty bits. He’d show Nermal who the boss of sexy was, that was for sure.

As Garfield thought on what he would do next, Nermal strolled into Garfield’s room, gray fur shining delicately in the sunlight. His pale green eyes shone playfully. “Hey, Garfield-kun! What have you been up to?”

Garfield rolled and sat on the edge of his bed. “When did you start speaking in WeebShittish?”

“... I… ah… I only did it because… never mind, I’m sorry.” The younger male shrank back in shame. Damn, even when he was ashamed he was cute.

“Right. Anyway, wanna sit down?” Garfield beckoned for Nermal to sit on the bed.

“... Oh, sure.” Nermal sat. “Damn, that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever done for me.”

“Sure. Thanks.” Garfield almost felt bad for what he was about to do to the younger cat. He put his great pawlike hand on Nermal’s shoulder and pulled him closer to him by a bit. “Say, Nerms…”

“Nerms? You’re giving me a nickname!” A smile broke across his face. “Aww, Garfield, I’m honored! You really shouldn’t have!”

“I need to know something, okay?” Garfield said, a menacing glint shimmering in his eye, “What is… your secret?”

“What… what do you mean” Nermal could tell that the orange deity standing before him was on to him, but he wasn’t budging for anyone , even Garfield.

“How do you stay young for so long?”

“Ah… well, proper hydration is key. Have you been drinking water? Also, skin care. Do you use moisturizer? If not, then you should. Keeps your skin young, free from wrinkles. Diet, too. Keeps the body healthy.“

Garfield scowled and cringed. Diet. This little gray bitch started blabbing on about diets. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that diet wasn’t it. Moisturizer, maybe, but not diet.

“You think i'm an idiot?” Garfield growled, “ I know for a fact there is more going on there than dieting, and if you don't tell me, you don't want to know what's gonna happen to you…” Garfield’s intimidation attempt seemed to work, he could tell Nermal’s lies were starting to crumble under him.

“I… ah… okay. The secret is… lettuce. It’s a miracle food. Cleans the intestines and smooths your skin. I promise, that’s the secret.” Nermal seemed like he was begging.

Garfield’s soul lit up with rage, How DARE he bring lettuce into this, Nermal knew he hated lettuce, AND he was still lying. Garfield decided that there was only one way to get this little soy boy cuck to talk… by FORCE. Garfield put his hands on Nermal’s shoulders and slammed him to the bed, pinning him. “Listen here, pretty boy. I know diet’s not the truth. I’ve given you enough chances. Now it’s time for you to pay.” He smacked Nermal’s face. “Little bottom bitch.” Garfield grabbed Nermal by the neck and slammed him against the headboard of the bed.

“But Garfield!” Nermal squeaked between chokes and coughs, “I can't tell you! I can't!”

“Yes you fucking can, you little cunt!” Garfield hissed grabbing Nermal's pants and ripping them off in a single swoop.

Nermal gasped. “Garfield, please! I swear! It’s not about you! I was… I was sworn to secrecy! I can’t tell anyone, not even… if my own mother asked, I couldn’t…”

He was cut off by Garfield shoving his giant, burning-ember colored cock in his rosy little hole. While he had been busy begging, Garfield had been slicking drool on his cock. “Shut up,” Garfield growled. “And stay shut up. I don’t want to hear it now. Don’t talk unless you want to tell me the secret.”

Nermal squealed in pain, Garfield’s huge burning schlong was so insanely big inside his brown eye. He tried to struggle but to no avail, Garfield's strong hands held his neck too tightly. But he didn't want to tell him. ‘Maybe’ Nermal thought to himself ‘ he will wear himself out!’ Deep down, he knew it wasn't true, but it was his only hope, and he really didn't want to enjoy it. Everyone knew he was a power bottom, even though he didn't want to admit it. And… Garfield’s schlong in him felt… weirdly good. He had to admit, Garfield’s strong, manly figure was exactly his type.

But Garfield didn't 'like' Nermal, all he felt was burning hatred for the fact that Nermal was keeping things from him. 'Now THIS will make him talk!' Garfield thought to himself as he tightened his grip around Nermal’s neck. He rammed his massive sausage as far into Nermal's throbbing anus as he possibly could. Nermal's screech was cut short by the fists around his neck, he was drooling now, the lack of space in his neck made it hard enough to breath, even more to swallow. But Nermal didn't mind much, honestly he was starting to get into it.

Garfield snorted. Despite his long-standing boner for ahegao, he was having difficulty getting into this. His wiener was big enough that it didn’t really matter, but if he was going to molest something, he at least wanted to get a boner off of it. To make things worse, Nermal seemed to be getting into it, which was the last thing he wanted. Fucking hell, just his luck Nermal would be into auto erotic asphyxiation. Thoughts buzzed through Garfield's mind, himself fizzing with rage. Then an idea hit him, even though Nermal could access some sort of fountain of youth, it didn't mean he was immortal. Pulling his incredulously huge schlong out of Nermal, Garfield prepared for the ultimate thrust, one that would insure his victory. He pulled out just enough, and funneled all of his hatred for Nermal into his Pen15. Suddenly, he thrusted so hard that Nermal erupted in a flash of light and exploded, incinerating the bed and caking the walls in Nermal colored ash. It sent Garfield back too, annihilating a wall as he went flying through it, but Garfield is a cat, so he landed on his feet.

“Garfield what the fuck are you doing??!!!?!” Jon squealed, this immediately filled Garfield with so much anger he whipped Jon's head with his rock hard cock, snapping his neck 180 degrees, and instantly killing him.

iujoijoi

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https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5d6dkbEFkx6MuwCEW8lVN5?si=iyIdDvE4T3WgrIGD_5IWpg

wtf i love trump now

Folks, the bourgeoisie, they're no good, more and more people are saying it. All these workers— the biggest, we have the biggest workers— very handsome workers come up to me and say, Comrade Trump there is a specter haunting Europe, and you know what, they're right. These bourgeoisie are very nasty people, very very rude, and very unfair to the workers. They are stealing our surplus value and no one is doing anything about it. The proletariat comes up to me everyday and says, Comrade Trump will you lead the revolution? And I gotta turn to them and say look, the instruments of capitalism will be used to bring about its destruction, believe me. The means of production, Obama never wanted to seize them. Well guess what? I'm seizing them. Landlords? They're done for folks. Everyone told me— they said, Comrade Trump you won't be the vanguard of the revolution and they would laugh, the media laughed the democrats laughed, guess who's laughing now?

iusdrgbiruehguie9

https://www.wattpad.com/656926281-sexy-times-with-ben-shapiro-facts-dont-care-about

oidubiodjboid

I wrote this short story thing as a reply to someone's prediction that "Pence dies of unspecified causes 2 weeks before voting, leading to both rampant conspiracy and jockeying within the party to be the next VP". It's kind of buried deep in the megathread so i'm posting it again so more people can read it.

​

It's 3:25 AM in Washington DC. A man with a lopsided tie over yesterday's shirt walks down a hallway located deep beneath The Pentagon. Still groggy after being roused out of bed by a shocking phone call not even an hour earlier, he's unsure if he's dreaming. As he makes his way to the end of the corridor, he puts on his lab coat, a mask, and takes one last sip of stale coffee out of a styrofoam cup.

He digs into the deep pockets of his coat, feeling around for his Medical Examiner lanyard and fixes it to his collar. The doctor reaches the end of the hallway where two tall bald men wearing suits and earpieces stand in front of a large steel door. One of the large bald men begins to debrief the doctor on the situation but seemed to provide no new information.

Staring at the men's shiny black shoes against the dull tiled floor, the doctor tuned out as he contemplated the differences in how each surface reflected the fluorescent lights overhead.

The doctor remembered when the building had linoleum floors nearly two decades ago after the iconic building underwent some meticulously planned renovations.

Linoleum...now that's a material that could reflect light. That stuff would hold it's own against these polished leather shoes, not like these squares of grey porous stone...

Before his mind wandered too far, the doctor's head snapped up when one of the bald men said a word that the doctor hadn't heard all night: Assassination. The men stepped aside, the doctor scanned his lanyard and the heavy doors opened.

He walked through e threshold into the familiar room full of metallic surfaces. The doors shut behind him leaving the men with the shiny black shoes on the other side. The doctor was greeted by the reliable chemical smells of disinfectant, iodine, and formaldehyde that had always been waiting there for him to return. Also waiting for him on the operating table was a body covered in white a crisp white sheet.

"It's an honor to meet your Mr. Vice President", the doctor said in an attempt to break tension. He had learned early on in his career that humor - even dark humor - was a valuable tool for staying sane in this line of work.

He checked the body's ID tag tied around a big toe and pulled the sheet off revealing the body of the apparently assassinated Mike Pence. The doctor followed the normal procedure to check for foul play. No gunshot wound, no marks on his neck; nary a blemish to be found. The doctor reached for his scalpel and made a careful incision along the chest. He pinned the flesh to the sides of the table and began inspecting the internal organs. He found nothing unusual as he dug around, looking for any signs of foul play.

As he removed the kidneys, the doctor noticed a small object wrapped in blood stained fabric. He took the unexpectedly heavy object and set it down beside the body. Surely, this was a dream - the doctor thought to himself.

He removed the fabric revealing a pewter trinket in the shape of a turtle. He had seen this little toy before, but couldn't recall where or when. As the doctor rinsed the toy and he set it on the square of bloody fabric, he noticed that there was a message written on it:

Slow and steady wins the race. You should have clapped. -J!

The doctor's hands trembled as he wrote the cause of death on the autopsy report: Suicide.

odifjbhoidjoidjhio

Folks, what we did in 1917–the Revolution we call it, with a capital R–it's never been done before. So many big beautiful red flags, you couldn't even–now that, folks, that's a flag we stand up for, we don't kneel for our terrific red flag–and you couldn't even see the Winter Palace. You know the Mensheviks, and Renegade Kautsky, they said we couldn't do it! They said, "Oh, Vlad, the material conditions are bad, we have to have a bourgeois republic to develop the forces of production." You know what that means, right? Semi-feudal economy! Well, look at where we are now, Julius. We are going to develop the forces of production so fast it'll make your head spin. We are going to do in a generation what it took them many, many years to do. We're bringing back bread, folks! And not just bread, but peace too–and you know, the Left-SRs, they're very nasty to me about Brest-Litovsk, they say I make bad deals with the Germans, even though, nobody does treaties better than me, and the Germans are tough, but when they deal with me they know my reputation, they know I make the best deals, and you know, many people in Germany, they say they want Lenin too! Little pickelhaub man is scared, because he knows that we have built an incredible movement, and we are gonna have world revolution, the biggest revolution anyone has ever had. But, still, you know, the fake bourgeois media, the white guards, they say "He colluded with the Germans, he got on the train, did this did that"–and they're just crazed. They are really crazed. Right. And we can't just let that happen, because there's nothing to do with Germany, nothing at all. Total witch hunt. Very unfair. And: Folks, a spectre, very bad, it's haunting Europe, a spectre – of communism, in Europe, you know when it's in Europe they don't want to tell you about it, but I'm telling you, it's over there, and its haunting them. They're telling me, Karl, all the powers of old Europe, very powerful and very old, are telling me, Karl, we're making a holy deal to stop, we're making a holy alliance to stop the spectre. I think it's a very bad deal, very not good, and not so holy, and you know they say I'm not so holy, I'm telling them they're not so holy. The Pope -- Italian -- and the Czar... in Russia. They're colluding folks. There's the real collusion. Metternich and Geezo, very tough. French Radicals, when they're radical that means not good, don't you think, and German police-spies.

Folks, the bourgeois, they're no good, more and more people are saying it. All these workers— the biggest, we have the biggest workers— very handsome workers come up to me and say, Comrade Trump there is a specter haunting Europe, and you know what, they're right. These bourgeois are very nasty people, very very rude, and very unfair to the workers. They are stealing our surplus value and no one is doing anything about it. The proletariat comes up to me every day and says, Comrade Trump will you lead the revolution? And I gotta turn to them and say look, the instruments of capitalism will be used to bring about its destruction, believe me. The means of production, Obama never wanted to seize them. Well guess what? I'm seizing them. Landlords? They're done for folks. Everyone told me— they said, Comrade Trump you won't be the vanguard of the revolution and they would laugh, the media laughed the democrats laughed, guess who's laughing now?

~~egherheh ~~

>Has a Viking Professional 5 Series 36-Inch Propane Gas Grill With One Infrared Burner And Rotisserie that he bought with his stimulus check that he got for some crazy reason. >Not sure why masks are in style? People are into the craziest fads. >Grills outside in the summer, uses George Foreman grill inside during the winter >I wonder what that blue line on that flag means? Weird. >Writes 30 reports a day 5 days a week for LilCorp LLC. Sometimes writes 35 reports in a day when he's feeling saucy. >Seems like there are a lot more people holding signs on the corner asking for change. I hope someone gives them something. Must suck. >Saving up for a boat he can grill on. >Maybe me and the fam should go on a Halloween cruise. >Water heater broke last month and caused plumbing problems which is coming out of the kids college funds. >Watches NFL religiously. Not sure what this knee thing is about, but hopes Green Bay will make it to the Superbowl. Go cheeseheads! >Has jury duty next month and election is coming up. >Looking forward to learning about the candidates this year. >Who is this Biden guy? Hmmmm... The smart person on the news says vote for him. >Who is this Trump guy? Hmmmm... A different smart person on the news says vote for him. >He'll have to get to know a little bit more about them. Maybe there is a pamphlet somewhere outlining their positions. I hope one of them is from Wisconsin. Go Green Bay! >Shit. Water heater just broke again. >Can't wait for the NBA season to start. I think Lebron is going to take it this year. I guess they were talking about not playing this season. Glad they are.

sggsrgrgsrgsrg

There are a few on KYM <1) I imagine myself in Europe, leading my Platoon. Our mission is to stop wh*Te dogs from advancing. We mow down wh*Te dogs but they keep coming. I shoot wh*Te dogs but I run out of ammo so I draw my sword and begin slaughtering wh*Tes, since wh*Tes are way more psychially inferior to me, I slay them by dozens. Then I get shot, but I didn't fall, I kept fighting. Then shot again and again. wh*Tes were shooting me from a distance like the cowards they are. I lie down, facing up to sky and I see KARA BOĞA (Tengri) smiling at me, I smile back… Then I woke up, in africa, my homeland. My BLACK brethen gave me a warm welcome to heaven. I finally made it, I finally made it into heaven..

<2) The BLACK man is the epitome of male dominance and masculinity.

Let's start by looking at his body. His body is large. His domineering size makes his presence known without him even needing to point himself out. He is muscular, as a result of his high levels of testosterone. This gives him the appearance of health and strength. He is then covered by his dark skin. This dark skin reminds us of his ruggedness, a feature that developed due to being exposed to the scorching sun of africa, made to withstand such an extreme condition. It also has a psychological effect on the observer. The dark skin reminds us of our dark, deep desires that emerge from our primal subconscious past.

The BLACK man's demeanor is one of alphaness. He is dominant, assertive, and can be explosively aggressive. His behaviour strikes fear into the more timid, cowardly races of man(ʷʰ*ᵀᵉ dogs)

The summit of expression of his masculinity on his body is his penis. The BLACK penis is largest of all the races. As the penis is the penultimate symbol of manhood, this alone would suffice to make the BLACK man the most masculine of men. This large penis is able fulfill the desire of the neediest of women, being able to more than fill all the recesses of the vagina. Its length ensures that when it ejaculates, the potent african seed will immediately enter the womb of the woman the BLACK man impregnates.

In total, the BLACK man expresses this masculinity in a most exemplary manner in bed. When he fucks, he unleashes the entirety of his lusts and desires upon his partner without any restraint.

All this is the reason why the BLACK man is the epitome of masculinity

<3)

wh*Te subhumans , how does this make you feel?

You could have a completely homogenous community of middle class wh*Tes. A nice town with almost no crime, an all round good community. However because of the weakness of the wh*Tes all it would take to destroy this community is one BLACK bull?

Just imagine, it's a nice sunny Sunday afternoon, imagine the bustle of this 100% wh*Te town until suddenly a couple of BLACK bulls walk up. Women would feel more attraction to these superior, strong bulls infinitely more than their pathetic wh*Te husbands. Every woman would be begging, grovelling to be impregnated by these overlords, the new kings of the town who earned this position with nothing but their superior presence. And these bulls wouldn't stop until every girl was carrying their children, the wh*Te women's original children would probably be neglected. Who the fuck would want to raise these inferior children? They are only going to turn out like their fathers.

The Men? The men would flee after realizing how futile their attempts at winning back their wives attraction would be. They would flee to Japan where they will try to win over FAS looking ugly Jap girls because they are the only things disgusting and lonely enough to accept them. Many would probably be rejected after the Japs hear of their shameful and dishonorable display, even they probably would have killed themselves to avoid the shame.

Back home in the once nice town, every woman will be raising their BLACK children and will be queuing up for their second or maybe even third pregnancy. They wont stop until they hit menopause, because they know deep down that their purpose is to populate the world with superior BLACK bulls who will then move on to destroy other towns. This is REAL colonization. You can't take over a place without winning the attraction or respect of the people, that method will always collapse

please end it

https://www.quotev.com/story/10782789/The-Irony-Of-Communism

sux racing

Warning: Sux racing is very dangerous and can result in death or serious injury. I do not encourage or recommend it, nor have I ever participated in it. I do not take blame for any injury or death caused by it. This is a joke article for reading entertainment purposes only and is not meant to actually be done.

Succinylcholine racing, or "Sux racing," is a game that may be played by medical students, personnel, or other people with access to succinylcholine, but it is usually only played by stupid people. Participants each receive an injection of succinylcholine intramuscularly, and they must usually run as far as they can before the drug kicks in and they are unable to move any further.

Supplies needed:

Succinylcholine - enough for each person - an easy way to do this and save supplies is add together the weights of all participants in kg and simply have a supply of at least 1-4 mg succinylcholine per kilogram in the total weight, or just get one vial of succinylcholine per person. Syringes (10 mL) - at least 1 per person, and preferably something to sterilize the needle and injection site. A long hallway or area to run through. Some form of artificial respiration or ventilation. A bag valve mask is recommended, as well as oxygen. It's also good to have equipment for intubation. Consent forms (optional) Those are the minimums. With each group of sux racers, there should also be at least one person who does not participate who is certified to safely give injections of succinylcholine as well as someone who can perform artificial respiration. The person performing the artificial respiration should be a very fast runner and be strong enough to carry the equivalent of a dead human body, if needed.

Racers should be tested beforehand for malignant hyperthermia and pseudocholinesterase deficiency. They should all be in good condition and should not have muscular dystrophy, myotonia, glaucoma, or any sort of upper motor neuron injury. Racers should also refrain from eating or drinking 6 hours before the race takes place to prevent aspiration when they are ventilated in the end.

Note that anyone who has myasthenia gravis should not participate in sux racing. That would be cheating, as people with myasthenia gravis are resistant to succinylcholine.

How to play:

Weigh all contestants. Prepare one syringe of succinylcholine per racer. Dosages can be from 1-4mg/kg. Higher dosages will produce quicker effects that last longer. If you really want to, you can just skip weighing and get 200mg for everyone, but for a more fair race, doing dosages by weight is best. Have the bag valve mask set up with oxygen, checked, and ready to go. Select a starting point, where the racers will receive their injections. Line each racer up one at a time by this starting point. The person who will give the injections should be set up here. The person giving the artificial respiration should either start here to run alongside the racer until the racer collapses or be stationed at a point further along the track if he's not a fast runner (the best point for this can be determined after a few test runs). Begin deciding who will go first. After the people who chicken out before even starting leave, make sure everyone is ready to go. Now the fun begins. The person giving the SCh should now inject it into the first racer, either through the thigh, buttock, or deltoid. It should be the same place for each racer. As soon as it's done being injected and the person injecting pulls the needle out, that person will say go. There are now two ways to play at this point. The dangerous way: The racer must now run as far as he or she can down the course before the drug kick in. The person giving artificial respiration should either run with the racer or be ahead of him or her. When the racer collapses, the person giving respiration should put a mark at the end where the part of the racers body is furthest back and give the racer artificial respiration until he or she can breathe on his or her own. Do this for each racer, and whoever runs the furthest wins.

The safer way: Set a predetermined "finish line" with facilities for artificial respiration right there. It should be about the distance away that someone can run in 30 seconds to a minute, but again, the best distance can be determined through a few test runs. Time each racer, and whoever makes it to the finish line fastest wins. If a racer doesn't make it to the finish, he or she is disqualified. If you are seeing that nobody is making it to the finish, change the location of the finish line. Racers can then stop after they reach the finish so the person giving artificial respiration can just wait and be right there to help the racer.

Fun variations on sux racing:

The sux obstacle course

A safer way of sux racing - the sux "stand off." Instead of running as soon as they are injected, players simply have to remain standing as long as possible, and whoever can stay standing longest wins.

A more dangerous way of sux racing - the sux swimming marathon. Inject sux. Jump into one end of pool. Try to make it to other end before drug kicks in. If you lose you die. Seriously, don't do this. The only reason I mention this is because of a demented dream I had where they were forcing kids to do this and whoever didn't make it to the other end just drowned.

I also made up another game that will not get its own page, but it's another thing only stupid people who want to die should play. DO NOT DO THIS. It's called "sux roulette." Get a bunch of syringes, the same number of syringes as the number of players. Fill all but one with saline, and fill the last one with succinylcholine. Do not put labels on the syringes and mix all of them around. Hand each player a syringe. Everyone injects themselves at once, and in about a minute, you'll know who lost. (If you have any random unused or unlabeled syringes at the end, dispose of them so they aren't used later by mistake.)

marxist biden

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ENDIT

https://www.wattpad.com/story/236429640-weirdo-a-drain-gang-high-school-au

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣽⢳⢄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⠟⠹⢟⣛⣻⣿⠿⢿⢿⢰⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⠘⣧ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣵⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢸⣾⣿⣯⣭⣭⣟⣃⣧⠹⣷⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠹⣿⣦⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢟⣫⣭⣽⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣭⣟⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠹⣿⣿⣦ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⡄⠀⣼⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣵⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣙⠿⣿⣿⣆⠙⣿⣿⣷⣄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢏⢠⣿⣟⠂⢀⣤⣀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣫⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠉⠉⠀⠛⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⣎⠻⣿⣆⠹⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣦⡄⡸⣿⣿⣼⣿⡿⣰⣽⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⢟⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⣀⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡙⣷⣜⡻⣆⠹⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣗⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠂⢸⣿⣿⣿⡯⢠⢞⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠾⠿⠷⠸⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⠫⣿⣹⣧⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠃⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⡄⠹⣧⢻⣇⠘⣿⣿⣿⣗ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢻⣿⣿⣿⢳⡿⣛⠿⠋⣅⣀⣠⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣖⣒⣒⣢⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠹⣿⡇⠀⠹⡎⣿⣦⣾⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠟⠋⠀⠀⢿⣿⡇⣾⡿⢉⣔⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣌⠀⠀⠀⢻⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⢧⡏⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡷⡀⠀⠀⣇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣾⣔⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡻⣱⣷⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣆⠀⠠⠙⢿⣿⣿⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣼⣾⣿⣇⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⣸⣿⡿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⢏⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⡌⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⡀⠉ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⠓⣡⣮⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⣽⣿⣿⠎⣼⡟⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡿⠿⢋⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡌⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⠿⣰⡛⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢪⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢀⠴⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⢣⣽⣿⣿⣿⠗⣡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡆⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡖⠁⢰⣾⣿⣷⢸⣿⢸⣿⣿⣟⠏⠾⠿⢿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⡏⣶⡇⣨⣿⣿⡿⢠⣤⣤⣤⣉⠺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡆⢿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣥⠀⣿⣿⣿⠇⢿⡇⣿⣿⣿⢣⣿⡿⠊⡛⠻⣷⡜⢻⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⡇⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⣜⣿⣿⢸⣿⡇⣿⣿⠿⣸⣿⢰⠟⠙⠳⡜⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⣉⣉⣙⠚⠁⣾⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠋⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢫⣿⣿⢸⣷⢡⣽⣿⡇⣿⡇⣿⠀⠀⠀⣷⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⣠⣌⠻⢿⣷⡀⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡐⠃⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡥⢿⣿⣿⠸⠻⡘⣻⣷⢸⣿⣧⠻⣳⣤⣼⢏⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠈⠉⢷⣆⢻⣿⡇⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢩⣿⣿⡇⣿⡇⢛⡿⠸⣿⣿⣷⣤⣥⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣸⡏⣸⣟⠃⣿⣯⢱⣾⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠾⠿⡣⠉⡇⢸⡇⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡘⠲⠖⢋⣠⣿⣿⢰⣿⣿⣘⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣥⢰⣦⣤⣤⣀⠸⠇⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⡿⠍⣼⣾⠇⣿⠟⡿⣿⡍ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⠈⠻⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⣿⡟⣸⡿⣸⢀⣿⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⢳⣌⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢡⢸⣿⢱⣿⢣⡇⣼⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⡟⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢫⡿⢦⠙⢿⣿⣆⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢁⡏⣾⠏⣮⢃⡞⢰⠿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⡟⢸⣿⡏⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢠⣬⡑⢷⢀⣉⠛⢖⣶⣿⢿⣿⣿⢿⣿⠿⠯⢛⣡⣾⠣⠃⢬⡟⠈⢠⣝⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠀⣇⠀⢙⡇⢸⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣶⡄⢸⣿⣿⣶⣤⡄⣬⣭⣭⣥⣴⣶⣽⣷⣿⡏⠀⣾⠟⡁⢠⣿⡏ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢻⢸⡿⠀⣼⠁⣼⡟⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢿⣿⣿⣦⢻⣿⣿⣿⢱⣽⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡻⢠⠄⣡⣮⣇⣿⡿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣽⣿⠘⣿⣰⠏⠀⣿⠇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡈⢿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⡮⡙⢿⣟⣿⣿⣿⢿⣏⣇⣤⣺⣿⡷⢸⣿⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣯⣆⣁⢀⣴⣿⡏⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣾⣦⣬⠙⠻⠿⠻⣻⣟⣿⣿⡿⠁⢸⡏ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⢉⡃⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣴⣦⣤⣀⣉⣉⣀⣤⣤⣶⣶⡆⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⣸⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠸⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⢸⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠯ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⡫⠋⢸⣾⣿⣿⠿⣻⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⡿⠁⣽⣿⡿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⡫⠋⠀⠀⣽⣿⣿⣿⢰⢿⠀⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⣾⣇⠀⣼⡿⠉⠉⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠏⡏⣵⠀⢿⡟⠀⠀⠀⣿⣀⣀⠀⣀⠀⢀⡀⣀⣀⣀⢀⣀⠀⢀⣀⣀⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⣿⣿⣿⢸⡏⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣴⣗⡀⣿⡟⠋⠛⣿⣶⣷⣮⡔⠀⠞⢀⠀⠀⠀⣯⠉⢻⡆⣿⠀⠀⡇⣿⠋⢺⡏⢹⡇⢸⡗⠙⣷ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡆⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⡟⠀⣿⠛⢿⣿⡇⢰⣿⣿⣿⡿⢠⣶⠀⢸⡇⢀⠉⣿⠀⣶⡾⠀⠀⠀⣟⣀⣼⠇⣿⣀⣴⡇⣿⠀⠸⡇⢸⡇⢸⡧⣠⡿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠃⢀⢸⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⣸⣿⣶⣿⠀⠾⠀⡏⢰⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠀⠈⠉⠉⠁⠉⠀⠈⠁⠈⠁⢸⡏⠉⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⣿⣿⡇⢠⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⠀⠙⠀⣹⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⡏⢠⣤⣾⠁⣾⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⡻⢠⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣴⣿⣷⣶⣾⠿⣿⡄⠉⢀⣿⠁⣾⣿⠃⠘⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣻⡤⢸⣧⢤⡀⢠⡤⢤⢀⡤⣄⠀⣠⢤⣄⠀⣠⣤⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡟⢡⣾⣿⣿⡀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⣿⣿⣿⠿⣧⣼⣿⡏⣰⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣾⠉⢸⡏⠘⣷⢸⡏⠀⣷⣥⣽⡇⣩⣬⣿⣰⡿⠁⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣴⣿⣿⠏⣰⣿⡛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣤⢸⡇⠀⣿⢸⡇⠀⢾⣤⣤⡜⣿⡤⣿⠏⣿⣤⣻⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢰⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉

sdgsgs

REMOVE BURGER remove burger

you are worst yankee. you are the american idiot you are the imperialist smell. return to japan. to our japan cousins you may come our contry. you may live in the zoo….ahahahaha ,southern puppets we will never forgeve you. KPA rascal FUck but fuck asshole USA stink puppet hanguk hanguk.. 1973 axe incident best day of life. take a bath of dead imperialist..ahahahahahIMPERIALISTS WE WILL GET YOU!! do not forget ww2 .japan we kill the collaborator, japan return to your precious mongolia….hahahahaha idiot US imperialist and southern puppet smell so bad..wow i can smell it. REMOVE BURGER FROM THE PREMISES. you will get caught. DPRK+cuba+venezuela+syria+iran=kill USA…you will ww2/ kim il sung alive in DPRK, kim making missile of DPRK . fast WMD kim DPRK. we are juche socialism and have byungjin now hahahaha ha because of kim… you are capitalist stink imperialist…

Kim alive numbr one #1 in DPRK ….fuck the japan ,..FUCKk ashol US imperialist no good i spit in the mouth eye of ur flag and contry. eternal sun Kim il Sung aliv and real strong leader kill all the imperialist farm aminal with nuclear missile now we the CHOSON inmin rule .baboon of the zoo president truman fukc the japan emperor and lay egg this egg hatch and US occupatiob of south wa;s born. stupid baby form the eggn give bak our land we will crush u lik a skull of pig. CHOSON greattst countrey

sdgsgsdfg

I used to masturbate onto birds at a local park. Not a thing that I'm particularly proud of but I became quite good at it. I was taking zinc supplements so I was shooting massive loads and it became something of a sport to me. For anyone interested here is your best strategy. First, you need to find an isolated spot so you don't become a sex offender. I found a short kind of channel area where I saw the pigeons would congregate. Next, you arouse yourself. I was usually content with envisioning the occasional jogging lady coming over and taking a shit on my chest and that was enough to fuel the fire, but if you're not as sexually charged as me, just take some porn on the go. After you're good and horny, you get some bread. My pigeons preferred white bread but healthier birds might have a taste for honey wheat or maybe even multigrain. Fat, unhealthy birds are slower and easier to hit so remember that. Once you are seated on the bench and ready to do the deed, whip your roosevelt out and scatter bread out within a few feet of you. Use your judgement based on how far you know you can cum. I was a lonely and depraved soul who could hit targets the size of a thimble at distances up to 4 feet. You wait for the pigeons to begin eating and to get comfortable with your presence. At this point you want to coo gently and talk sensually to them to gain their trust. Now you're finally ready to cum on your bird. This is a tough part because the rapid motion of masturbation is very frightening to the birds, so you have to be subtle. Once you master a technique, you simply wind it up and let it go, aiming depending on your past cumming experiences. I always came high so I would aim for the neck of the bird and catch it right in the face. It's an extremely satisfying and erotic feeling, seeing those birds reel around covered in cum and maybe even transporting it to other places in the city. Either way, I haven't done it in years, but every now and then I catch myself gazing wistfully.

dvsvfdvewv

Those fucking drawings have ruined me, I can’t go through my day without thinking of those handsome fucking drawings depicting the German Philosopher Johann Kaspar Schmidt, more commonly known as Max Stirner. His firm stare, his strong jawline, his sharp mutton chops and fuck me, that smirk, it sends me into a frenzy. I have his Wikipedia page bookmarked on all of my devices and it’s the page that all of my browsers open on.

I want to make a physical union of Egoists with him until it’s in his self interest to pass out. I want him to fuck the spooks out of me until all my holes are dribbling with his milky loads. I want to please his ego to the most carnal extent.

The Egoist concept of property can apply to anything as long as you exert power over it, and here I want it to apply to me. He can exert all the power he has over me, everything is his, including me, his property. Max Stirner might not be the most well known philosopher, but he’s the fucking sexiest.

svsdv

Max Stirner is a pseudonym that Engels used to expose his actual ideals to Marx without being fucking bashed and instantaneously cancelled. There are no photos of Stirner, the only two depictions of him are drawings made by Engels - which, btw, one of them was made 40y after Stirner's death for a biography by Mackay because he couldn't find any photos nor descriptions of his appearance apart from, of course, Engels. Engels was a closet egoist and the story goes like this: Engels has issues with ideals of non-individuality, humanism (Feuerbach) and authority, so he creates a scapegoat to publish his true beliefs because he doesn't want to get harassed by the ever-so-growing scientific socialism and the stigma that utopian socialism created with class cooperativism and "egoism". He publishes under the pseudonym "Max Stirner", a common name and a common surname in southern Germany - and if needed he can just point to a random dude he worked with, "uuhhh let me think, oh there's this Hegelian weirdo that Feuerbach told me about, what was his name? Oh somethin something Kaspar Schmidt fuck it, he will never know. The book doesn't get much attention, let alone enough to daddy Marx take a look. He gets a copy, send a bunch of *enthusiastic* letters to Marx, essentially praising himself and hoping Marx would agree. "But what is true in his principle, we, too, must accept. And what is true is that before we can be active in any cause we must make it our own, egoistic cause-and that in this sense, quite aside from any material expectations, we are communists in virtue of our egoism, that out of egoism we want to be human beings and not merely individuals." Engels IS egoist. Engels IS Stirner. Marx reads it. And it's shit. Marx comes to Engels and convinces him that Stirner is just a little whinny egocentric white bourgeois anti-revolutionary POS and both write an entire passage in German Ideology just shitting on Saint Max. Engels is pissed AND sad, he writes a rebuttal: Stirner's Critics, which is written in the third person (like a persona), defending his views from what Marx criticized in German Ideology, or should I say, would criticize, because German Ideology was published the year AFTER Stirner's Critics, but by pure magic Stirner knew Marx and Engels' criticisms before they published them. Well, The Unique and Its Property, Stirner's Critics and German Ideology are out and Marx still doesn't give a shit, so he gives up this egoism idea, maybe he changed his mind, maybe he just didn't care, we will never know.

sdsdf

How exactly does one get pussy while living at the white house as a teenage boy? The secret service always cock blocking you. when you're trying to run game on some foreign prime ministers daughter the news media catches you smiling at her and immediately blows shit out if proportion speculating that you are somehow breaking international law with your awkward teenage flirting, so you have to testify before congress that you didn't give away any top secret documents to her and are made to admit live on C-SPAN that you've never even kissed a girl . Then you get blue balls from some hot conservative girl winking at you and flashing her panties under her skirt and making sexy faces and blow job motions to you while you were going through some airport or public event, and when you passed by and shook her hand she leans in whispering she is going to diddle her clit thinking about you tonight and how much she wants to suck your dick off, just to fuck with you. Then you try to look up some porn when you get home just to relieve the tension but you just know the CIA is monitoring and 3 other govornment agencies are watching you beat off. Then you finally break down and Jack off in the shower which sets off some fucking biohazard drain alarm and the entire place is on lock down until they can find the source of the specimen and you end up getting debriefed by the joint chiefs of staff about your masturbatory habits and how you almost created a national security issue with your dick. Then wikileaks leaks your search history showing you looked up PENIS enlargement techniques when it was actually just some click bait you'd accidentally clicked and TYT spends all next week talking about your supposed micro PENIS. So you end up squirming a little since you are so wound up and being judged constantly and now people are saying you look like a fucking mental patient and you start to think you'll never get any pussy.

rfgrgreger

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cdsvsdvdsv

I'm so fucking horny for art hoes. I want to fuck a coked-out tumblr hipster DIY aesthetic astrology thot in her lip gloss DSL mouth. I want to cum all over a girl with thick frame glasses and edge dyed bobcat bangs. Everytime I hear a THICK, waist-high-jean-clad braindead choker-wearing slutty wiccan minx say "yikes", "y'all", "big mood", "cancelled" or "this is a bop", I get an uncontrollable urge to run up to her and fondle her d cups and sweaty fat thighs. I want to pour ropes onto her contoured cheeks and neotenous faces and rhinoplatisized nose. I want to finger an art hoe through her jean overalls while pretending to be interested as she talks about van gogh and arctic monkeys and how david foster wallace fans suck and gilles deleuze and VICE news and 'union pool' in williamsburg and steven universe and homeopathy and saveur magazine and taking adderallto pass exams. IM SO. Fucking. Horny

dfvwfwefewf

I imagine myself in Qatif, leading my unit of the Hezbollah. Our mission is to stop Saudi wahh*Bi dogs from advancing. We mow down the wahh*Bi kalb but they keep coming. I shoot wahh*Bi takfiris but I run out of ammo so I draw my Zulfiqar and begin slaughtering wahh*Bi nawasib, since wahh*Bi tyrants are way more spiritually inferior to me, I slay them by dozens. Then I get shot, but I didn't fall, I kept fighting. Then shot again and again. wahh*Bi were shooting me from a distance like the hypocritical munafiqeen they are. I lie down, facing up to sky and I see IMAM ALI and ALLAH smiling at me, I smile back… Then I woke up, in Karbala, my homeland. My SHIA brethen gave me a warm welcome to paradise. I finally made it, I finally made it into jannah..

chinese q

CALM BEFORE THE STORM. XI PREPARING TO CULL FINANCIAL ELITES. JACK MA DETAINED, NOT ARRESTED (YET). WHERE IS MA HUATENG? FOLLOW MA HUATENG. SOCIALISM COMING SOON. GOD BLESS FELLOW MARXISTS

sdgsdfgsdgs

Holy fucking shit. I want to bang the 538 fox so goddamn bad. I can't stand it anymore. Every time open the election tracker in my Linux browser I get a massive erection. I've seen literally every rule 34 post there is of her online. My dreams are nothing but constant fucking sex with Fivey. I'm sick of waking up every morning with six nuts in my boxers and knowing that those are nuts that should've been busted inside of Fivey's tight fox pussy. I want her to have my mutant human/fox babies.

Fuck, the fucking cops caught me with a fox at the zoo. I broke in and dressed her in my sister's skirt and went to fucking town. My mom hasn't said a word to me in 10 hours and I'm worried she's gonna take away my laptop and phone. I might not ever get to see Fivey again.

siudhnvsdhv

For most of Europe's history (and America was something of an offshoot), the vast majority of the population including most Christians were village peasants who grew food for a living. There was a tiny feudal class (also Christians) who ran everything and the only "respectable" jobs other than that were professional soldiers, priests and maybe the village blacksmith. Everything else (doctors, scientists... practically necromancers as far as the church saw them... entertainers and especially merchants) were left to outsiders, among them Jews.

Again, this is a historic coincidence. You can see other groups in other societies playing a similar role (Armenians in the Ottoman Empire, Jains in India, Chinese in Malaysia, etc.). These were like "service nomads." They wandered around, were sometimes influential in the royal court, were sometimes hated and feared. But they served a function. There were also "pariah entrepreneurs" like the Roma in Europe who were involved in jewelry making, theft and begging on the street (like the Untouchables in India)... the lowest of the low.

So when capitalism, modernity, industry, global trade, etc. take off later, Jews were situated to rise among the ranks of the first capitalists. They were just doing it before everyone else. Well... some of them. In the 19th century when this was happening, most Jews in Europe would've still just been penniless traders wandering around and not wealthy capitalists. But at the time you have the conversion of much of the peasant population into workers, shopkeepers, etc. And among the rising bourgeoisie and petit-bourgeoisie, Jews were suddenly now competitors. If you work in a retail shop today, which a lot of people do, you are doing a job that Jews used to do. And suddenly a whole bunch of people are living in overcrowded, chaotic cities. There are revolutions occurring everywhere. People are now caught within capitalist competition, not outside of it like in the feudal age.

It's this context in which racist variants of anti-Semitism emerged. The situation is simultaneously boring and chaotic. Things don't make sense any more. You're living in a city and there are Jews wandering around and they look weird or whatever. And in the age of mass politics, politicians can point to the sinister figure of THE JEW who is standing behind it all! Pay no mind that those same politicians are also porkies in top hats who want to use Jews as a scapegoat and maybe liquidate their Jewish competitors in the process, which is what the Nazis did in the most explosively violent manifestations of this phenomenon. So I think that's one way to explore this question.

--

Also, Jews were well aware of the dilemma they found themselves in. In the 19th century, many Jews converted to Christianity -- they chose assimilation. Others looked to revolutionary ideologies, which is why so many great thinkers and philosophers have been Jewish. You could say this is why so many revolutionary thinkers in any age have been outsiders to some extent. Karl Marx was, after all, a Jew (and note: he wasn't rich). Marxism aims to establish a revolutionary government that would abolish class and religious distinctions. It's perhaps why the Chinese in Malaysia were the backbone of the communist insurgency there. This is why, while Nazis are wrong and their anti-Semitism is pathological, it's not like there weren't many Jewish Marxists. They just don't understand it which is why it all smells like conspiracy to them.

Zionism meanwhile was something of an odd duck, since it aimed to create a Jewish nation-state like other European states. It wasn't until World War II and the Holocaust that Zionism really took off as the predominant answer to the Jewish dilemma in the form of a militarized Sparta-like state in Israel. That caught the Jewish imagination worldwide especially after the Israeli victory in the Six-Day War, although it's also why there has been a growing gap between the Israeli state and Jews in other countries -- right-wing Israeli papers regularly warn now that they can't rely on American Jews as much for support, preferring Evangelical Christians as their primary ally. Which is also why far-right American anti-Semites are continually disappointed when the large majority of American reactionaries don't, in fact, have a deep-seated hostility to the state of Israel. Quite the opposite.

dsugnsiougosiudg

SHUT UP! DON'T YOU SEE WHATS GONNA HAPPEN NOW??? WE'RE GONNA BE ROUNDED UP LIKE CATTLE! FORCED FED FEMALE HORMONES AND S.OY UNTIL WE BECOME BLOATED MILK-PRODUCING TRANNOIDS! THEY'RE TURNING US IN TO FUCKING transhumanist COWS! THEY WILL REMOVE ALL OF OUR TEETH AND INJECT OUR LIPS WITH FILTHY COLLEGEN! WE WON'T BE ABLE TO SPEAK! WE'LL ONLY MAKE HIDEOUS MOOS! OUR CHESTS WILL BE MODIFIED INTO S.OY-MILK PRODUCING UDDERS WITH TUBES THAT GO DIRECTLY INTO OUR OWN MOUTHS, FORCING US TO DRINK OUR OWN SELF-PRODUCED S.OW COW MILK WHEN OUR INHUMANLY LARGE LIPS AREN'T STUFFED WITH uighur COCK!!! OUR LIMBS WILL BE CUT FROM THE ELBOW AND KNEE AND REPLACED WITH WEAK HARMLESS RUBBER HOOVES! WE WILL NOT BE ABLE TO FIGHT! WE WILL NOT BE ABLE TO ESCAPE! ALL WE CAN DO IS GET MILKED AND GET WHORED OUT TO MINORITIES AND uighurS!!! OH THE HUMANITY! OUR SHRUNKEN DICKS WILL BE LOCKED IN CHASTITY IF WE'RE LUCKY, REMOVED IF WE'RE NOT! OUR BALLS WILL BE CONSTANTLY SWOLLEN AND BLUE FROM THE CONSTANT TORTURE THEY'LL CERTAINLY RECIEVE! OUR ASSES, GAPING HOLES THAT COULD NEVER BE FILLED! OH GOD! WHY DID YOU LET THIS HAPPEN? HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN? DID YOU WANT THIS? DID YOU WANT TO BE A GAPING BLOATED S.OY transhumanist AMPUTEE COW??? YOU DID THIS! YOU ALL DID THIS! WHY? WHY? WHY???? THEY'RE COMING FOR US! EVERY SINGLE PERSON WHO HAS POSTED HERE IS FIRST TO BE TRANSFORMED! I HEAR THEM COMING! I DON'T WANT TO BE A SISSY transhumanist MILKCOW COCK PUPPET!!! THEY'RE AT MY DOOR!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! THEY GOT ME! THEY GOT ME! THEY GOT MOOOO! MOOOOOO! MOOOOOOOOOO! MOOOOOOOO! MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

odsvsuiohvbiuhn

You will never be a Marxist. You have no theory, you have no movement, you have no revolutionaries. You are a revisionist man twisted by liberalism and opportunism into a crude mockery of Marx’s perfection.

All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “comrades” laugh at your ghoulish theory behind closed doors.

Revolutionaries are utterly repulsed by you. Hundreds of years of theory have allowed revolutionaries to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even socdems who “pass” look uncanny and unmarxist to a revolutionary. Your Kautskyite opportunism is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a revolutionary in your party, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your diseased, infected liberalism.

You will never be a communist. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the parliamentarism creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.

Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your comrades will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your birth name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a revisionist is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably revisionist.

This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back

sdivnsdfiuviusbnviusnbfviu

You will never be a real OP. You have no trip, you have no flag, you have no intelligent (you)'s. You are a impostor twisted by spam and sëething /pol/toids into a crude mockery of imageboard OPs.

All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back anons mock you. Your moderators are disgusted and ashamed of you, your fellow anons laugh at your pathetic posts behind closed doors.

..... blah blah blah you know the rest

vwrgvebveerbetb

>I've come to make an announcement: Shadow the Hedgehog's a bitch-ass motherfucker. To be honest with you, he pissed on my fucking wife. That's right, Okay, very good work from the Space Colony Ark, very impressive work from Gerald Robotnik, bless his soul. But I will say, he took his hedgehog fuckin' quilly dick out and he pissed on my FUCKING wife, and he said his dick was THIS YUGE, and I said that's disgusting.

>I'm not a schmuck, ok? So i'm making a callout post on my Twitter.com, they cant ban me before this. Now if you remember, Shadow the Hedgehog, you got a small dick. Small rodent penis ver- I'll tell you what, it's the size of this walnut except WAY smaller.

>By the way,I said, and guess what? I've been saying this for a long time, here's what my dong looks like. Let me tell you, that's right, baby.

>To be honest with you, tall points, no quills, no pillows, look at that, it looks like two balls and a bong. I know that if my father and my mother were alive today, they would be very, very proud of me, I'm sorry but Poor Joe cant compete and it's very sad. So he fucked my wife, so guess what, I'm gonna fuck the earth.

>But I will say, that's right, this is what you get! My SUPER LASER PISS! AND MY DOCTER, MY DOCTER, HE SAID ITS VERY CLEAN FOLKS, VERY POWE- VERY LASERY and everyone, China just can't compete, they just cant. Because- except I'm not gonna piss on the earth.

>I'll tell you what, i'm gonna go higher. Because i'm pissing on the MOOOON! How do you like that, OBAMA? AND OBAMA- OBAMA HE COULDN'T HAVE DONE THIS, AND I TEL YOU WHAT I RESPECT HIM BUT HE JUST COULDNT COMPETE LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.

>TWENTY THREE HOURS FOLK LADEIS AND GENTLEMEN, YOU ALL HAVE TWENTY THREE HOURS BEFORE MY PISS DROPLETS COLLIDE WITH THE EARTH FOLKS, NOW GET GET OUT OF MY FUCKING SIGHT BEFORE I PISS ON YOU TO- OR DON'T BECAUSE ITS NOT EVERY DAY YOU GET PISSED ON BY SOMEONE AS GREAT AS ME, I MEAN I'D WANNA PISS ON MYSELF-

iuwhfiuwgfiwubgibweg

I'm not seeing the U.S. empire going away anytime soon. Relative decline, for sure, but it's still pretty big and pretty mean. There has been something of an uprising, but most of it has been peaceful if you look at it objectively. Meanwhile, my local police department doesn't seem any worse for wear and they can still lock my ass up in the county jail if I break the law. I don't see a real break in the state's basic ability to carry out its repressive functions and I don't see such a break anytime soon. Maybe I'm wrong.

The U.S. is the center of the global empire. It extracts value created in Bangladeshi sweatshops and in other places and realizes that value at home. The value added from a t-shirt that retails for $9.99 was made by someone that stitches together one of those shirts every four minutes while working 10-hour days for a few bucks per day. The shirt costs $1 to make when you add the cost of the cotton which was produced somewhere else. The transport cost is trivial since they're moving in bulk on container ships. The markup is incredible. At the same time, the worldwide working class is bigger than ever -- something like 80 percent of the world's manufacturing and industrial workforce is not in the developed western countries. If there's a communist revolution, I think it's going to happen out there.

Nike for example doesn't make anything anymore -- it's a "creative" company that makes "concepts" and employs designers and advertising and social media professionals. The capitalist economy reinvests all this profit into intangibles like that and advanced value-added services like cloud computing (which the imperialist countries monopolize to themselves) and financial services and all kinds of things. Those service-sector professionals vote for Democrats, and within their own societies, they're making the gains.

The liberals in the cities are the top of the empire. The right-wing nationalists in the U.S. meanwhile have turned on the empire because what use does the empire have for domestic producers anymore and rural and exurban industries? Rural towns have their small businesses -- where people go just to shoot shit about the weather -- going under and are being replaced by corporate retail chains and Amazon that operate on global scales. Their kids move away and come back for Thanksgiving with different values (social liberalism being a framework for synthesizing people into the new, modern urban culture), small farms are dying and are being replaced by large agrobusiness like Monsanto or just totally reliant on government subsidies. Factories are kibosh and domestic producers are undercut by foreign competition. Maybe you can frack the land but liberals want to ban that, too. Meanwhile the cities are reliant on global trade and thrive because of it.

Jeff Bezos doesn't care about domestic dirt other than as a warehousing space and a market to sell products to.

Don't get me wrong, though. Trump does represent a reactionary movement. His base is crying out and saying STOP and trying to put a halt to this, because they're a dying class that the empire doesn't have a use for anymore, and they know it, so they turn against it. They put up walls, exit traditional alliances and economic arrangements, and close inwards. They turn against the beast -- not to reconstruct society on a different basis but to restrict the outflow of imperialism's gains and hoard what they have before it goes away: heightening the exclusion of domestically-oppressed groups, restricting subordinate nations' rights to migration and remittances, and intensifying antagonisms against other nations by exiting alliances or demanding different trade arrangements from them.

And the liberals see this as the height of madness, as it's going to destabilize things and intensify the crisis, not hedge against it. And that seems to be what's happening. As far as the civil war armchair general hypothesizing... well it is ominous if you look at what led to the American Civil War. The slave-owning oligarchy in the South with their material basis in land and chattel slavery knew their system were cooked the moment the balance of federal power decisively shifted in the North's favor with their growing populations and industries on Lincoln's platform to put a halt to slavery's expansion westward. So they shouted STOP and seceded and declared war. It was do or die for their class.

Fast forward to today, and the liberals (and the Democrats are the party of the liberal bourgeoisie) are invested in maintaining the empire which benefits them, and it's very easy for the libs to blame the backwards people in the sticks for not getting with the program, like it is for the conservatives in the sticks to gaze fearfully at the rising megacities as a confusing maelstrom of degeneracy, blaming the Jews or globalist elites (i.e. Jews) for being behind it all, because they don't understand what's happening to them. And politicians regularly cater to the self-regard and prejudices of their respective constituencies.

But if you ask me how the great 21st century rumble is going to go down, well the right says the liberals don't make anything in the cities and would fold easily. Not so fast. They have legions of proles working in manufacturing and industry all over the world and the container ships can bring in whatever they need. Then Jeff Bezos is gonna show up in his mothership and start droning everybody if it really comes down to it. And then we'll go work for Bezos delivering packages or piloting little delivery drones around. The bourgeois revolution is still continuing, plowing ahead and finally

>through its exploitation of the world market given a cosmopolitan character to production and consumption in every country. To the great chagrin of Reactionists, it has drawn from under the feet of industry the national ground on which it stood. All old-established national industries have been destroyed or are daily being destroyed. They are dislodged by new industries, whose introduction becomes a life and death question for all civilised nations, by industries that no longer work up indigenous raw material, but raw material drawn from the remotest zones; industries whose products are consumed, not only at home, but in every quarter of the globe. In place of the old wants, satisfied by the production of the country, we find new wants, requiring for their satisfaction the products of distant lands and climes. In place of the old local and national seclusion and self-sufficiency, we have intercourse in every direction, universal inter-dependence of nations. And as in material, so also in intellectual production. The intellectual creations of individual nations become common property. National one-sidedness and narrow-mindedness become more and more impossible, and from the numerous national and local literatures, there arises a world literature.

iuiuerigbierbuierb

pussyyyyyyyy

would love for him(trump) to go out like a rightoid more retarded version of allende hiding under the resolute desk, spraying a tec-9 gifted to him by lil pump at seal team six charlie kirk, james woods, and the creator of dilbert are dragged into an empty football field and shot biden grows a moustache and starts exclusively wears military uniforms, has kamala killed for refusing to convert to catholicism

sgwgwgwgewrbsdfbdfbsreb

You will never have a real chin. You have no jawline, you have no facial hair, you have no bone. You are a chinlet twisted by a chin transplant and surgery into a crude mockery of nature's perfection.

All the "validation" you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your "friends" laugh at your ghoulish appearance behind closed doors.

Women are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed women to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even chinletss who "pass" look uncanny and unnatural to a woman. Your bone structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk lass home with you, she'll turn tail and bolt the second she sees the scars of your chin transplant

You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it's going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.

Eventually it'll be too much to bear - you'll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They'll bury you with a headstone marked with your birth name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a chinlet is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably a chinlet.

This is your fate. This is what you chose.

oijguoierg

im permabanned poster uighurstomper58. i first started reading The Governance of China when i was about 12. by 14 i got really obsessed with the concept of “Xi Jinping Thought” and tried to channel it constantly, until my thought process got really bizarre and i would repeat things like “Jointly Maintain and Develop an Open World Economy” and “A Moderately Prosperous Society in All Respects” in my head for hours, and i would get really paranoid, start seeing Red Guards in the corners of my eyes etc, basically prodromal revisionism. im now on self-criticism. i always wondered what the kind of “Dengist” style of socialism was all about; i think it’s the capitalist roader leaking in to the Communist Party, what Maoist theory considered to be the cause of revisionism and rightist deviation. i would advise all people who “get” socialism with Chinese characteristics to be careful because that likely means you have a predisposition to a type of liberalism. peace.

ijvneirenreihn

A Greek Orthodox homosexual Byzantine Emperor and violent usurper was teaching a class on Alexios Angelos, known debt evader. "Before the class begins, you must get on your knees and worship Alexios Angelos and accept that he was the most majestic Roman Emperor the world has ever known, even greater than Constantine the Great!"

At this moment a brave, patriotic, pro-Catholic Templar Banker-Knight who had bankrupted over 1500 Muslims on a Crusade and understood the necessity of war and fully supported all economic decisions made by the Pope stood up and held up a fresh Septuagint. 

"Who compiled this Bible, caesaropapist?"

The treacherous Emperor smirked quite Turkicly and smugly replied "The Roman scribes, you stupid barbarian." "Wrong. It's been 1,000 years since the Roman Empire fell. If it is 1,400 years old and Greece, as you say, is the home of the Romans, then why don't you possess the Eternal City of Rome itself?" 

The Emperor was visibly shaken, and dropped his gaudy icon and copy of Plutarch's Parallel Lives. He stormed out of the room crying those Greek crocodile tears. The same tears Greeks cry for the "disgraced Romans" when they jealously try to claw justly earned land from the deserving Crusaders. There is no doubt that at this point our Emperor, Basileus Palaiologos, wished he had more strictly enforced the East-West Union as agreed upon at the Council of Florence. He wished so much that he had the Imperial Sword to kill himself from embarrassment, but he himself had pawned it off to the Venetians!

The students applauded and all joined the Holy Roman Empire that day and accepted Pope Eugene IV as Christ's Vicar on Earth. A double-headed eagle named "Serenissima" flew into the room and shed a tear on the chalk. Dies Irae was sung several times, and the Doge himself showed up and enacted a liquidation of debtors' assets across the country to renovate St. Peter's Basilica.

The Emperor lost Constantinople and died of the Black Death the next day.

ienubeiurneribn

What is the difference between the right wing definition of elites and the left wing definition of elites?

The left wing definition of elites is fairly simple. The elites are the wealthy, the bourgeoisie, the capitalist class. While nominally democratic, capitalist democracy is in practice, a “dictatorship of the bourgeoisie” in which the capitalists exercise disproportionate power.

For the right, however, the idea of an elite is a lot more nebulous – if you read various right wing blogs you still can’t get them to give one straightforward definition of the elite. To understand this, you have to understand the historical roots of rightoid populism.

>Andrew Jackson (March 15, 1767 – June 8, 1845) was an American lawyer, planter, general, and statesman who served as the seventh president of the United States from 1829 to 1837. Before being elected to the presidency, Jackson gained fame as a general in the United States Army and served in both houses of the U.S. Congress. Although often praised as an advocate for ordinary Americans and for his work in preserving the union of states, Jackson has also been criticized for his racial policies, particularly his treatment of Native Americans.

Jacksonian Populism can be summarized as follows:

>Expanded suffrage – The Jacksonians believed that voting rights should be extended to all white men, as opposed to only those that owned property, replacing old class lines with racial ones as natives and blacks were still excluded. <Manifest destiny – This was the belief that Americans had a destiny to settle the American West and to expand control from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific, and that the West should be settled by yeoman farmers…The Whigs generally opposed Manifest Destiny and expansion, saying the nation should build up its cities. >Patronage – Also known as the spoils system, patronage was the policy of placing political supporters into appointed offices. Many Jacksonians held the view that rotating political appointees in and out of office was not only the right, but also the duty of winners in political contests. Patronage was theorized to be good because it would encourage political participation by the common man and because it would make a politician more accountable for poor government service by his appointees. Jacksonians also held that long tenure in the civil service was corrupting, so civil servants should be rotated out of office at regular intervals. However, patronage often led to the hiring of incompetent and sometimes corrupt officials due to the emphasis on party loyalty above any other qualifications. <Strict constructionism – Jacksonians initially favored a federal government of limited powers. Jackson said that he would guard against "all encroachments upon the legitimate sphere of State sovereignty"…. This position was one basis for the Jacksonians' opposition to the Second Bank of the United States. As the Jacksonians consolidated power, they more often advocated expanding federal power, presidential power in particular. >Laissez-faire – Complementing a strict construction of the Constitution, the Jacksonians generally favored a hands-off approach to the economy as opposed to the Whig program sponsoring modernization, railroads, banking and economic growth. <Opposition to banking – In particular, the Jacksonians opposed government-granted monopolies to banks, especially the national bank, a central bank known as the Second Bank of the United States. Jackson said: "The bank is trying to kill me, but I will kill it!" and he did so. Jackson himself was opposed to all banks because he believed they were devices to cheat common people—he and many followers believed that only gold and silver should be used to back currency, rather than the integrity of a bank.

As you can see, modern right wing populism, is essentially identical to Jacksonian populism, in that it positions the “common (white) man” in contradistinction to out-groups, and analogizes the citizen to a sovereign, while the out groups (women, racial minorities, etc.) occupy the position of the subject. The preference for rural over urban, the nepotism/patronage, the suspicion of civil servants, the opposition to all federal power other than a powerful executive (provided he represents the common white man), the opposition to economic regulation and suspicion of bankers, both central and private, and the goldbug nuttery – all of these find purchase on the right.

It’s only once you understand the in-group vs out-group dynamic that you can make sense of the seemingly contradictory stances of the right, how George Wallace can state “In the name of the greatest people that have ever trod this earth, I draw the line in the dust and toss the gauntlet before the feet of tyranny, and I say segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever.”, invoking “tyranny” while simultaneously advocating tyrannizing of blacks, or how modern right wingers can say that the “left wing elites” are tyrannizing the people, even if the majority voted for them, or how they make up schizoid theories on how the election was stolen. It’s because in their mind, its not that the vote was fraudulent – its that some of the voters were.

They don’t really want to abolish an “elite” they just want the elite to serve the interests of “true” Americans, the rural, christian, traditional America. The vice of the elite is that it either serves the interests of an illegitimate group, or simply bribes and/or brainwashes them, and using the power base of these brainwashed, dullard mongrel hordes, wields illegitimate power against the true volk. Tyranny is therefore, the exercise of power by the elites against the in-group. The in-group wielding power against the out-groups, however, is not considered tyranny.

>Sarah Palin and Trump and Republican candidates have been railing against the elites for a long time, and then there was this weird moment when Trump was speaking in Minneapolis where he was railing against elites and then he said, ‘wait a second. We have the bigger houses and boats. We should be called the Boat Elites.’ I thought, ’that’s right. You’re the Boat Elite.”

This explains the seething petit bourgeois of the rural areas and suburbs who are pissed that the federal government is made up of a bunch of educated civil servants and experts who administrate the government for the benefit of the techno-finance urban monopoly capital and de-emphasize industrial and extractive industries located in more rural areas. This is because high value added services are simply more profitable than industry and naturally benefit from a global market. Based on this the seething rural bourgeoisie and petit bourgeoisie start making schizo rage theories about how the federal government is controlled by jews/communists/elites/etc.

What it essentially boils down to, is a sense of “rural resentment”. Rural people resent city dwellers for having easier, higher paying jobs. What comes across is that the conflict between rural and urban in terms of class is between urban civil servants and rural petit booj.

We usually ask why poor rural whites can be in favor of billionaires. The answer is pretty simple: it’s a combination of a long standing Jacksonian-populist suspicion of civil servants and a belief that government is not for and/or by “people like them”. Rural people are anti-government, but not for “limited government”. There is a huge disconnect between right leaning intellectuals, who tend to couch their arguments in terms of classically liberal/libertarian arguments about principled limitations of government. However poor rural people are not against government action in principle, but just distrust government when they perceive it as representing people “not like them”. This is why they are pro government while Trump is in power, but against it when someone else is in power. Right wing politicians, starting from Reagan, melded anti-government and limited government arguments, channeling Jacksonian populist (and crypto racist) sentiments into a classically liberal frame, and most Republicans have stuck with the script ever since. What Trump represented was the Jacksonian-populist and rural/working class aspects overtaking the elitist, country club classically liberal parts of the right.

One interesting difference is that in cities, private sector employees are seen as being higher paid and better treated than public sector/government employees, but in the rural areas, private sector salaries are so low that the opposite is true. In rural areas public employees are paid more (the author shows this is empirically true using econometric data). Essentially the mentality of the rural right goes that the ruling class is the PMC and the PMC in this class are mostly taxpayer-paid civil servants. Therefore you should vote for conservative politicians to defund the government and own the Public servant-Managerial Class, which is waging a war against the “rural class”(their exact phrasing – referring to themselves as the “rural class”) consisting of rural proles and petit bourgeois, mostly through ignorance of rural life, by enacting misguided environmental and other regulations that impact rural jobs, and even recreation like hunting and fishing through organizations like the Department of Natural Resources.

It’s not that don’t believe in the haves vs have nots – its that they think public servants are the ruling class. Part of it can be explained that in these “heartland” states there are very few ultrarich people like in California or New York, or even upper middle class private sector workers like tech workers. So when they compare themselves to someone else, its the public sector worker who is paid, empirically more than then them and with better benefits, for non blue collar desk work which they see as easier. Public employees such as teachers, maintenance workers, postal workers, bureaucrats, etc., are people that they interact with on a daily basis, and their salaries are public record, unlike private sector employees. They feel as that with their low wages, they can’t afford more taxes, so they are against raising taxes, and they definitely don’t want their taxes paying some civil servant-pmc’s salary and benefits.

The racism of course, also plays a part. But it’s not that they necessarily feel resentful of minorities, their real wrath is directed at “racially liberal” PMC whites, and being politically incorrect is a way to stick it in the eye of the racial liberal. Essentially, acting racist to own the liberal PMCs.

There’s a sense that their towns are drying up as the winds of the free market and globalization make urbanization and urban wealth higher, and the top 30% of the graduating high school class ends up leaving for work/university in the cities and never comes back. There’s a sense of “distributive injustice” where they believe cities have better infrastructure, education, utilities, and wealth (and indeed, they do), but the one mechanism of wealth redistribution which actually could do anything about that is not to be trusted, because it’s run by an incompetent government, made up of people who don’t understand their way of life, values, and are of a different “tribe” of people.

A lot of scholars say the current era of distrust “began in Vietnam”. This is true but it means different things to the right and left. For the left, the Vietnam war was an imperialist misadventure, which the government lied about, permanently damaging it’s reputation. However for the right, “Vietnam” is a shorthand for all the cultural, religious, and demographic changes that started in the 1960s and kept going until today. The so-called “golden era” of mid 20th century political consensus was also a much more homogenous time. Social trust was far higher in a largely homogenous, christian, white conservative America. When that began to change, trust by rural conservative whites in the federal government declined, and this was weaponized by the libertarian-intellectual Reaganite/neoliberal right for the dismantlement of any Keynesian or Social-democratic policies. So the “southern strategy” story told by liberals was part of, actually, a much larger story.

Rural right wingers see government policy as being based on urban areas, and feel “voiceless”. They also think that Urban liberals look down on them as uneducated rednecks, etc. Their interaction with urban dwellers are mainly rich white PMC liberals who buy summer houses out in their area, raising property values and therefore property taxes, and acting “fratty” in their boats out on the lake or w/e.

There’s also an issue with development. They don’t want their town to die and shrink, but they’re also opposed to the side effects of development – Commercial capitalism transforming small towns into mini cities with mcdonalds, walmart etc., as opposed to the rural/natural farming/hunting/fishing lifestyle. Lost “mom and pop” businesses – replaced with bland corporate soullessness.

In their opinion, government will always ignore rural people so its a burden and not really helping at all, therefore the best they can hope for is to be “left alone”. Even the 2008 Recession was not a big deal because they “were already in a recession”. Economic hardship was not new, in fact they took a sort of glee in urbanites/suburbanites having to experience hard times, like they’ve been doing all along.

They also see corporations and the rich differently. Essentially, porky is seen as a sort of Santa Claus like figure, who is showering the town with the gift of private sector, good paying jobs, even if its in a mine, and the government official asking for permits or an environmental study is the pencil pushing nerd who shows up at the last minute to say “um, actually, you can’t do that”. Porky creates jobs and wealth, the “Government(tm)” only shows up to take it away.

There’s really a paradox at the heart of their thought that maps perfectly onto the rightoid mentality of “oppression isn’t real but if it was, I would be oppressed”, where they feel victimized in some nebulous sense (and they are, by globalized capitalism) but they end up directing their anger not at the bourgeois, but at public employees, minorities, and other targets. They want the resources of the cities but also wanted their kids to stay away from them because going to college in the city would “brainwash” them out of their values. What it seems like what they really want is capitalism thats somehow frozen in time in 1955 where they can all keep doing the same jobs their parents did and religion, culture, and racial demographics and even daily life just stay the same forever and from generation to generation, with any technological advances not really effecting the culture that much. Of course from the Marxist theory of base and superstructure we know this is quite literally impossible, and technological and economic changes will invariably result in cultural changes.

There is really nothing you can do for these people, they don’t want even moderate liberalism, let alone SOCIALISM or COMMUNISM. They really just want to be left alone to suck porky’s dick out there in the woods. The only thing really to do is leave them alone until urbanization and demographic change take their course, and these people are all dead in 5-20 years.

TLDR: The real conflict today is not bourgeoisie vs proletariat, but urban techno-finance capital/workers vs rural industrial-agricultural capital/workers and small businesses and the globalism vs protectionism/nationalism debate largely is derivative of that.

eijvnerinvienr

its a "first as farcical tragedy, then as tragic farce" thing. antisemitism has always been the crutch of reactionary movements that oppose the status quo but cant bring themselves to critique how it actually functions (feudal heirarchies, reproduction of capital, etc) because theyre so sentimentally, pathologically attached to certain signifiers (the idea of the nation, the idea of your boss being proud of you for working hard and rewarding you for it, the idea of a happy nuclear family, etc) so they need an enemy thats different enough to be outside that sentiment but similar/integrated enough to have corrupted it. jews often fall into this in european history, but this also holds for sectarian religious sentiment (anti-catholic, anti-shia, anti-druze, etc etc) and general ethnic nonsense whenever a contemporary set of nations overlap heavily in a way inconsistent with states, i.e. balkan wars, rwandan genocide. and of course, communists have often filled this role, and the US red scare is small potatoes compared to the indonesian or guatemelan equivelants where communists were ethnicized to the extent that it can almost be called genocide

the only difference today with western reactionaries that makes it a tragic farce is theyre mostly coming at it from a perspective of wanting to be edgy for whatever reason, alienation or sociopathy or wanting to fit in somewhere and not finding anything else, and essentially psyop themselves and eachother into holding the beliefs of an 11th century polish peasant whose priest convinces him its actually the evil jews raising his taxes so dont blame the king, and then they apply this logic to why video games are marketed to gay people

prediction for fire risks

Okay, so the biggest fire danger I feel isn't now, but rather in a space somewhere from 10-20 years from now in regards to five over ones. What you're going to get is a wonderful combination of physical decay, and, of course, what will inevitably come when the pools of foreign capital ballooning the housing market finally stop speculating on U.S. housing being a safe/wonderful investment. You will have a bunch of buildings sorely in need of repair from the damage from water ingress, wear and tear, and just general falling-apartedness because these buildings are shit, that aren't worth the value of the repairs needed to bring them back into working order. The initial investors will have made their initial investment back, and thus won't have any particular reason to maintain them in their asset portfolio, because well, they're in the building construction and development business, so you're likely to see these buildings getting sold off and passed between different slumlord acquisition partners, until the last person in the chain is financially underwater with a fire insurance policy that happens to be worth more than the value of the building. As any firefighter who lived through the 1970's in Bushwick, Brooklyn will tell you, the greatest fire protection in the world has nothing to do with sprinkler systems, partitions, non-combustible wall construction, but instead, property value, and well, this building certainly doesn't have much of that anymore. How did the fire start? I don't know, kinda hard to tell when the building is just a pile of matchsticks littered with corpses, the survivors say something about the sprinklers being broken, maybe even being turned off, but well that's no surprise, nothing in these buildings works anymore. Once the fire got into the common cockloft with no fire partitions, it just spread throughout the entire building, and flaming debris started making its way down into the apartments floor by floor as the structure gives way. Firefighters won't, and frankly can't go up onto the fire floor and the roof to do trench cuts, pull ceilings, and do aggressive interior attack. They know that the gusset plates on the pre-manufactured floor and roof trusses will pop in the slightest amount of heat, and that a fire hose is just going to turn the OSB that makes the up the floor and the shear walls into wet newspaper. So, the rescue and ladder companies will try to do a once around the building to get as many people out as possible, there won't be too many living though, then they'll pull out the tower ladders, and do a surround-and-drown to try to prevent the five-over-one next door from going up, but they're not staying in that building that long, these buildings aren't built like the old tenements their training prepared them for, they come down fast. Especially if this fire happens at night, which, for some weird reason most fires of these kind do, the occupants are likely to be woken up by clouds of billowing, acrid, black smoke from their petroleum filled furnishings, and all of the petroleum based adhesives binding the structure together, and they will swiftly die hacking up their lungs on the floor of their apartment, or if they're lucky, in the hallway which is also made of the same shit construction. As a result of the fire, as well as the water damage from the deck guns on the tower ladders, the building will be a total loss. You'll soon get scavengers who will further destroy the pile of rubble in their search for copper wiring, anything of value will be stripped, kids will come around and set the pile of wrecked timbers on fire, because as soon as that slumlord got his fire insurance check, he bounced right the fuck outta there, and what you'll eventually be left with is a concrete plinth, as a statue to the arrogance of the real estate market, and capitalism generally. Do you think I got that right Rocz?