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The Nailing Railing

There’s this bar/nightclub that has two floors, the second floor extending about 2/3rds of the way out from the back of the venue, so that those on the first floor near the front of the club can look up and see people on the second floor. (it’s great for boning up (heh) on your upskirting skills.) An iron railing about waist high protects dancers and drunkards from falling over the edge into the crowd below, though I can’t fathom how there haven’t been topplings that I know of, given the nature of drunkards to fall over just about anything that isn’t a brick wall.

The club gradually morphed from a Chad-White bro-scene to a Dindu savannah, but it never completely de-gentrified (bixnoodified?). A given Saturday night could be 50/50 White/black. Many of the blacks were hardcore ghettolanders bused in from duskier parts of town, so the 50/50 ratio felt more like 10/90 if you were a wypipo. One street creature carries the menace of one thousand of Shaun King’s threatening tweets.

The night would quickly humidify with the influx of MUH DIKKING and jungle musk, and White Privilege at that time never felt more remote. But it was still fun to stay despite the risk of a massive house riot because of what would eventually and inevitably transpire on that exposed second floor. The nubian ladies would line up along the edge, two-handedly grab the railing, bend over and jut their steatopygian buttocks out as far as possible, rhythmically swaying and bouncing and jiggling their leopard skin tights-clad, dimpled posteriors with a ferocity that would evoke a post-monsoon reproductive dash for ass among Africa’s red-butted fauna.

Then the real show began. The brothers in their knee-high sweatpants would lope into the buoyant backsides of these Nail Rail sisters, making a big show of judging the asses for quality — some nodding their heads and licking their lips in vigorous approval, other stroking their chins in phony discernment — before channeling Al Frankenstien on Viagra and pressing their tighty-whitey-strained boners into the gluteal abyss of not one, but two, three, or ten event horizon booty cracks.

The Bump n Grind commenced, howls and hoots and screeches that startled birds and sent them flying out of the canopy would echo off the walls of the club. Spilled drinks, sweat, spit, and possibly semen would rain down on the first floor denizens who were staring upward mouths agape in unbelieving laughter. After a short while, the tribal “music” having sufficiently worked the participants into a copulatory frenzy, the fertility dance would move to stage three. Already ten to fifteen sassy girls were displaying along the Nailing Railing, and the woefully underprivileged and eternally victimized gentlemen of color would begin the musical chair part of the mating ritual, swapping girls between each other, slapping asses with an air of perfunctory ownership as they entered and exited ass cubbies.

Usually the buckiest of the daggering brothers would hog (heh) the preponderance of booty, overstaying his time with each ass, choosing the finest ass (as he saw it) from among a murderer’s row of gargantuan globularity, and grabbing two asses at once, one glued to his pelvic region, the other tickled into a spastic froth by his outstretched hand. It was at this time that the scent of sudden mayhem was strongest, and the possibility of a violent resolution bristled through capillaries and engulfed the room, electrifying the senses.

This is when the smarter Whites leave, (the smartest Whites never arrive), but for one time the crowd remained in full as a climactic scene unfolded that stunned the gallery before a great laughter ensued. At the mating dance’s peak excitation, a tall scrawny nerdy White man with “I’m a shitlib Virtue Signaler” practically tattooed on his fivehead stepped confidently into the tush pit, smiling goofily, full of wonder and joy at his chance to bond with the natives, and bounced heavily at the knee near an open black behind, waiting for a cue from one of his hued heroes to enter the Dark Incontinent without a safari guide. The Flummoxed Flava took one long incredulous look at this Supreme Dork, promptly cackled in unison, slapped his back, and pushed him into the booty dead center at the rail.

Below, the crowd erupted in cheers. Gangly and spindly, our brave sinfiltrator jerked his body like a broken marionette to the smooth gyrations of his amour, nearly disappearing into the sea of butt blubber. Slipping on the wet floor, he almost dove headfirst over her back and the railing, but steadied himself by planting his paw in the thiccness of her shoulder padding, and it was at this moment that his other hand swiped right….toward her giant tit mashed into the iron bar. He leered at the crowd as he gave it a lusty squeeze, at which the girl turned to look back at him, stood up, shook her head in that OH NO YOU DINT way, and slapped his face. He rocked backwards from the force of it, and the gathered brothers released gales of knee-slapping, tongue-wagging laughter as they resumed their spots in the tar pits.

There is no moral to this story except don’t go looking for love in the bush.

White Privilege

You have to use the Leftoid-to-Human translator to understand that “White privilege” means “White aptitude”.

Liberalism Is The Truman Show

Long-time commenter Captain Obvious vividly analogizes modern liberalism to The Truman Show movie.

“She added that she couldn’t understand ‘how you could do that to somebody.’”

The problem in a nutshell. The only way someone could possibly think this is some sort of incomprehensible action after even a cursory glance at human history is a level of naivete that shouldn’t even be possible. People like this woman have no place in adult discussions.

The Gramscian Cocoon of Anti-Reality.

These Insula-dominant Amygdala-submissive sheep have lived their entire lives in an artificial world created exclusively for their delusional pleasure by The Frankfurt School.

It really is a psychological “Matrix” within which they are unwittingly imprisoned.

And this particular chick’s li’l sailboat just collided with the End of the World as She Knew It.

Liberalism:

The only difference is that, in the movie, Truman tried to escape his artificially constructed environment once he realized it was all set pieces and illusion. In our world, shitlibs have no interest in escaping their anti-reality; in fact, they fear escaping it. The ego doesn’t take kindly to utter refutation.

The Fuggernaut

These are the Alabama pastors who “rallied in opposition” to Roy Moore.

Steve Sailer calls it “the Coalition of the Fringes”. I call it The Fuggernaut. The reality both terms describe is the same: the forces arrayed against Heritage America are a slop bucket of human scree. Every fug under the black hole sun has come out of the goonwork to “resist” Trumperica, and in so doing they have revealed themselves as the bitter spiteful degenerate bloodsucking transnormal effluvia lashing out at anything conceivably connected to what is true and beautiful and worth fighting for in the world.

Our enemies aren’t deathly afraid of exposure; they’re deathly afraid of being called out for what they are once exposed. And who but your ‘umble shiv-servant has been dong just that for as long as the internet has been free?

An aging, anti-Trump pussyhatter clashed with a manspreader on the NYC subway, and given the ancestry of the accused the result was predictably comic for those of us who enjoy seeing virtue sniveling White women at the moment their Anti-White Equalism religion is refuted by reality. Via reader M.L.,

Ha.

Feminist with chip on her shoulder finds out that gentlemen of color punch uppity bitches in the face if they show disrespect.

A white guy would have apologized profusely.

That feminist shit only works on men who are already neutered.

The Wonder Woman herself, Sam Sweeney Saia, from her Twatter account in August 2016:

Sam Saia, this week, after her encounter with a typical representative of the mandingospreader who haunts feminist nightmares:

I have no doubt this spreader of vibrancy was taking his feral frustrations out on an HB3 White goddess and pushing his leg into her till she was crushed against the bars, but naturally being the ditzy lib broad she is, she forgot for a hot second that her feminist indignation is no match for thejungle. As M.L. wrote, what works on already neutered White men won’t work on the orc horde. Feminist haranguing is impotent against MUH DIK; it can only find a swaddling home in the deflated bean bags of shitlib white males.

Dumb virtue sniveling cranky urban slutmouths like this sour hag who spend the bulk of their attention whoring time shitting on their own men can take a White man’s sympathy from White Knight to “lol suk a dik” in five seconds flat. It’s more proof for my contention that feminism is, among other deleterious qualities, a mass psychotic case of negative transference by hardened liberal city shrikes unable to cope with the reality of daily black and brown and (((tribe))) violations of feminist moral code, so they blame the cause of their bad feelings on White Gentile men, which allows them to preen as both a feminist and antiracist heroine.

The White woman civilizational shit test continues unparried….

***

In related negative transference news, the Broken Windows dindu-stopping strategy is giving way to Windows Asking For It, the dindu-enabling strategy. Subway fare evaders are almost entirely black, so the Globohomo Order wants to decriminalize fare evasion.

There are two ways to deal with the dreary reality of wildly disproportionate black dysfunction in Diversitopias like the US:

  1. a crackdown on black behavior that would warm a Grand Dragon’s heart
  2. sewer spiraling to the lowest common denominator of social responsibility that doesn’t disparately impact blacks

As long as White Men remain unrooted from their heritage and faithless in their purpose and cultural glory, we will pursue option #2 until the wilting, deflorating end. Ironically, White Supremacy was never the problem; White Supination is the problem. And this is why MAGA has resonated so deeply with unapologetic White America.

***

An outtake from Your Daily Trump.

Shitlib/Cuck Uniparty media: “Trump has to be careful how he responds to these sexual assault allegations against Democrat Congressmen, given his own history with women…”

TRUMP: “…makes you wonder where Al Frankenstien’s hands were in pics 2, 3, 4 ,5, 6…”

Age isn’t denting Trump’s T level. And America is the better for His Chadness.

The Cucktat

A stocky young White man, pale, short-limbed, barrel-chested, and ruddy-bearded who looked to have a significant amount of Scottish ancestry was ordering food when I noticed the Chinese chicken scratch that passes for some ancient Confucian wisdom tattooed on his calf.

A Vietnamese couple were sitting behind him and across from me when I watched the ladygirl snicker to her rice burner boyfriend and point at the White dude’s cucktat. Clearly they were amused that this fatted Pink Pig would have Oriental script inked on his ham hock.

I laugh with them. What kind of man dishonors his ancestors, his family, and his people with the cucktat of a foreign race? A poseur, that’s what kind of man. Our Scot-ish piglander should have had a halberd tattooed on his Proud White Calf.

Death to fake leapfrogging loyalty, long live authentic concentric loyalty!

***

Moses writes,

Tats in a foreign language fetish-ize outgroups. It’s a symptom of low self-worth.

Just part of a larger disease afflicting Whites. Whites are fetish-izing outgroups and preferring them over their own in-group at rates that are unsustainable. It will not end well.

Chinese would never dream of adopting a non-Chinese baby. Ever. Same for pretty much every racial group except Whites.

Pathological altruism indeed.

It’s no coincidence that as White women’s self-esteems are artificially pumped to eleven by the Globohomo Ministry of Propaganda, the White race’s collective self-esteem is hitting rock bottom. Time to bring  back those halberds.

“children and boomers”. 😆

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