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The Right needs more Sabos, fewer cucks. I like this guy and what he’s doing ON THE GROUND to advance the anti-globohomo, anti-leftoid, anti-cuck, pro-Trumperica resistance.

The guerrilla art movement is usually associated with leftwing politics. Banksy targets capitalism, consumerism and inequality. Blek le Rat, the father of stencil graffiti, depicts oppression and resistance.

Shepard Fairey gilded Barack Obama’s rise with the iconic “Hope” poster and now highlights the scapegoating of Muslims and the corporatisation of US politics.

In the Trump era, the right, however, has its own guerrilla artist: Sabo, a former US marine who works from an apartment-cum-studio in Los Angeles beneath a sign that says “Fuck Tibet”. Another says “Fuck peace”.

There’s no clause in the cosmic laws that says the Left has to own the domain of street art or street activism. The Maul-Right is showing that clever artlords can turn the streets into their agitprop playgrounds with arguably more impact than do the icons of the shitlib self-pleasuring consortium, given that the material the maul-right works with is by its nature incredibly subversive and id-throttling.

“Republicans are the new punk,” said Sabo, echoing a slogan on his T-shirt also adorned with an image of Trump in a three-piece suit, looking rather rakish, giving the finger. “I’m pretty much the only right-winger doing guerrilla art. I’m like patient zero, the first one doing this on our side.”

Ahem, I hate to preen out of turn, but a case can be made this very Chateau was uglytruth guerrilla art before it could be even imagined by the kweer kultur kommissars.

Several other rightwing street artists are in fact active in LA but prefer anonymity, thinking that gives their work more power. Some on the right consider Sabo a showboater.

He is not shy about self-promotion, calling himself a one-man rebuttal to Madonna, Katy Perry, Lady Gaga and other anti-Trump performers. “I cater to the street urchins, the young people. I want them to understand that there’s another message out there.”

I don’t have a problem with Sabo’s showboating as long as he’s effective, passionate, and willing to stick the shiv in leftoid guts when the sticking’s good. But anonymity does generally imbue an artist with an ineffable coolness factor.

Sabo now says he is “cautiously optimistic” about the president. “The day I came to love Donald Trump was when I saw how hard he was kicking liberals in the teeth.”

Amen, Sabo. How can you not admire a man who doesn’t cry at the sight of his own balls or apologize for their impudent heft?

The left, he said, has mastered cultural and political “dark arts” and “weaponised” Hollywood, the FBI, the IRS, universities and other institutions to promote a nefarious agenda.

Indeed, for going on sixty plus decades. But hope glimmers from a retreat nestled deep in the Alsatian wood. Chateau Heartiste is a place where lords and guests come to retrieve those dark arts and reclaim them for the side of Truth and Beauty.

***

Here’s a take on Sabo over at the Chicago Boyz.

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Best part of this photo is the Holy See delegation just behind the right shoulder of Papua John’s double peckeroni pizza roll. Holy Seeeeeeiiittt!

How many UN globalist girls forced their faces into a rictus of feigned indifference as Delegate Horny Level 99 schwinged and schwung in front of them? Phonies, the lot.

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Roy Larner, a 47-year-old White prole, took on three mudfilth muslim killers and lived to tell the tale.

47-year-old Roy Larner battled the three machete-wielding jihadis with bare fists and shouted: “Fuck you, I’m Millwall!”

This should be the new maul-right rallying cry. Season to taste, e.g., “Fuck you, I’m Louisville!”.

Roy was enjoying a pint in a pub when the attackers ran in with machetes, chanting, “Islam, Islam!” and “This is for Allah!”

He’s now been hailed as the Lion of London Bridge, a reference to his football club’s nickname. But like any true set of football fans, his mates have been sure to keep his feet firmly on the ground.

They’ve presented him with a book called Learn to Run – a tongue-in-cheek gesture, praising him for not hiding when the terrorists entered the building.

Unlike the demeaning snark aka humiliation porn enjoyed by swpl shitlibs, prole humor is authentic, generous, and genuinely funny.

Roy was knifed eight times by the attackers at the Black & Blue restaurant and bar. He fearlessly shouted back and fought them alone, saving countless lives and allowing others to escape in the process.

Hero Roy told The Sun from hospital: “They had these long knives and started shouting about Allah. Then it was, ‘Islam, Islam, Islam’.

“Like an idiot, I shouted back at them. I thought, ‘I need to take the piss out of these bastards.’ I took a few steps towards them and said, ‘Fuck you, I’m Millwall.’ So they started attacking me.”

Roy claimed he shouted it a second time, and described it as ‘the worst thing’ he could have done as they carried on attacking him.

“I stood in front of them, trying to fight them off. Everyone else ran to the back. I was on my own against all three of them, that’s why I got hurt so much.

Let’s have a look at Roy’s physiognomy:

100% shitlord. No doubt about it. His bravery should therefore be unsurprising to anyone who understands the predictive power of #PhysiognomyIsReal.

Roy Larner is hereby bestowed with the highest gallantry honour a limey can receive — the Chateau Heartiste Iron Triskelion.

Roy Larner didn’t choose love. He chose to stand and fight. And that should shame every quisling White lib in the West.

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Submitted for your judgment: A photo of four — two women, two men — preserved in a ripely evocative group pose begging for a body language analysis.

We’ll start with the men.

USA Hat: strong posture, shit-kicking boots, no toothy smile, no hoverhand (his hidden hand might even be snugly nestled in the small of the woman’s back), contrapposto standing pose (this is the iconic alpha male pose when standing in place), the fist is a little try-hard and cheesy but it works as an accessory to his general aura. Most telling: he has no discomfort pressing his body and her body together for the camera. A subatomic particle couldn’t wedge itself between those two. Bonus body language cue: there’s a subtle, yet jam-packed with sexual polarity, power dynamic in evidence: she’s practically motor-boating his pecs. VERDICT: ALPHA MALE

Paramilitary Peacocker: feet pointing straight ahead and nearly heel to heel in a casual setting indicates some discomfort with his surroundings, arms clasped tightly behind back add to the overall impression of closed body language indicating that this man is uneasy in this free-wheeling social environment and doesn’t want his body intruding in the physical or sociosexual senses. The un-toothed smirk is a plus as is the Eastwoodian squint, but the facial confidence is betrayed by his body leaning into the group. If you’re worried about getting cropped from a photo, don’t lean in; just position yourself closer to the center of the pack, even if it means physical closeness that stresses you out. VERDICT: RECENTLY WOKE AND WILLING TO LEARN BETA MALE

Now the women:

Blondie: Easy natural smile, relaxed posture. She’s executing a three-quarter turn which means she’s not too solipsistic for a woman (the self-absorbed women tend to stop whatever they’re doing and turn to pose conspicuously and dramatically for the camera), the three-quarter turn with one knee bent also reveals an underlying feminine warmth that I bet translates to a preference for bedroom intimacy…and note to whom her bent knee is pointing (USA! USA!). This broad looks like a lot of fun at a party, the type of girl who’d scamper around making everyone feel at home. VERDICT: ALPHA FEMALE BASED ON LOOKS ALONE

High Contrast Ravenette: Her smile is a mystery novel, evoking at once consternation, callousness, mischief, and a volcanic smoldering sexuality. Her MAGAma is about to blow. All she needs is to find that man with enough T in the tank to scale her summit, peer over her precipice, and with a cocksure grin coax a mighty eruption from the abyss that is her tightly wound womanly soul. And from the body language assessment I have provided so far, that man won’t be Paramilitary Peacocker. Bonus body language clue: look closely and you’ll see she’s matching USA Hat’s contrapposto pose. Mmmmhmmmm, awww yeeeeahhh. VERDICT: ALPHA FEMALE BASED ON LOOKS ALONE

PS Big ups to both women for keeping their hair long and their tats, if they have them, away from their necks and faces. It’s almost too much to ask of women nowadays, ain’t it?

PPS Ladies, ladies, don’t knit your delicate brows. You should feel honored to place among the women who have served as CH muses. Seriously.

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Call it the Trump Effect (NPR uptalkers call it that): another White man has unlocked the Secret Cow Level where his balls roam free to graze, and finds that he likes the heft of them.

Republican lawmaker: I called immigration authorities on Capitol protesters

On the last day of the regular session of the Texas Legislature, hundreds protested at the Capitol — and Republican state Rep. Matt Rinaldi called ICE on them. He also nearly came to blows with Democratic colleagues.

[…]

State Rep. Matt Rinaldi, R-Irving, said he called U.S Immigration and Customs Enforcement while hundreds of people dressed in red T-shirts unfurled banners and chanted in opposition to the state’s new sanctuary cities law. His action enraged Hispanic legislators nearby, leading to a tussle in which each side accused the other of threats and violence. […]

Hispanic Democratic lawmakers involved in the altercation said it wasn’t physical but indicated that Rinaldi got into people’s faces and cursed repeatedly. Video shot from the House floor shows both Republicans and Democrats pushing each other.

“[Rinaldi] came up to us and said, ‘I’m glad I just called ICE to have all these people deported,’” said state Rep. César Blanco, D-El Paso, whose account was echoed by state Reps. Armando Walle, D-Houston, and Ramon Romero, D-Fort Worth.

“He said, ‘I called ICE — fuck them,'” Romero added. Rinaldi also turned to the Democratic lawmakers and yelled, “Fuck you,” to the “point where spit was hitting” their faces, Romero said.

😆 😆

“Matt Rinaldi looked into the gallery and saw Hispanic people and automatically assumed they were undocumented. He racially profiled every single person that was in the gallery today. He created the scenario that so many of us fear.”

It’s about time these fucking anti-White shock troops felt a shiver of fear.

Let’s have a look at Matt Rinaldi’s physiognomy.

Very trustworthy. Would enlist in the Chateau Deconquista Corps.

His wife is nice looking, too. Not surprising, really. Shitlord of the Week winners can usually be counted on to have wifed up attractive, non-fatty White women. This is a good time to introduce my “Bangable Wife” assessment of a man’s commitment to preserving White America: the hotter the wife, the more likely her husband won’t sell his country to the nearest globohomoist oligarch bidder.

I know Texas will soon turn blue thanks to the refried beaner tidal wave, but in their defense if there are any White men left who will fight for Heritage America, you can bet a lot of them live in Texas.

Three cheers for Matt Rinaldi!

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Ok, now same question, but with the roles reversed: the groom dragging the reluctant bride by her dress collar to the altar.

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Galactic Overlord Trump made a typo in a tweet and hit send before checking. He obviously meant to type “[media] coverage” instead of “covfefe”. On cue, full spectrum shitlibs descended into mass womanish hysteria and haven’t stopped crying about it. Trump decided to let the typo stand overnight before deleting it (or delighting in it) in the morning, figuring that there was much entertainment value to be had in triggering infantile shitlibs into yet another tantrum. Naturally, he was right. In the morning, he deleted the typo and replied with this tweet:

This is classic Trump; make a common mistake that millions of normal Americans make all the time when typing on their phones, wind up deranged lunatic shitlibs, and then drive them over the brink of sanity by poking a little fun at himself. Self-deprecation is most effective when it’s used to defang, belittle, or otherwise show up humorless drones like your garden variety Trump-hating shitlib.

You can bet the bank that if the Gay Mulatto had tweeted the exact tweet Trump sent out in the same circumstances, the autistic screeching crowd would be tripping over themselves with praise and unctuous flattery for the Golden Groid’s good sense of humor and common man’s touch.

Anyhow, the episode is a great real life illustration of two Game principles:

Never Apologize

and

Agree&Amplify.

The two principles taken together form a powerful seduction technique that I’ll call Covfefe Game. The purpose of Covfefe Game is simple: Come across like a confident cocksure jerkboy in the commission of a faux pas while dissipating any potential social awkwardness and deflating the indignation of humorless frumps demanding or expecting your contrition.

In pickup, Covfefe Game is usually evident when an alpha male pushes a little too soon or too hard for sex talk or physical mingling. If the girl objects (often nonverbally) or hurls a shit test because she’s a Level 99 Sass Lass, the alpha male will, most crucially, refrain from apologizing, and follow up with a Trumpian Agree&Amplify, e.g.:

GIRL: I’m not that kind of girl.

MODS! BONEHAMMER!: This is nothing. Wait’ll you see my finishing move.

If the alpha violates some sacred millennial iphag sjw tenet, Covfefe Game will help him come out smelling like roses.

JACKHAMMER OF THE GODS: that neighborhood is ghetto.

LISPING SJW: um, you can’t say that anymore.

JACKHAMMER OF THE GODS: damn, ok. that neighborhood is black as night.

If it’s a minor verbal miscue more along the lines of Trump’s tweet typo, a self-deprecating Covfefe strategy can help there too.

MAXIMUS TESTICULUS: I’m gonna recline poolside in my chaise longue.

PRETENTIOUS DORK: haha you said “chase lounge”. it’s pronounce shaiz long.

MAXIMUS TESTICULUS: Someone’s jealous of my super long lounge chair.

The goal of Covfefe Game is the same whether your target is a cute girl or the Shitlib Cuntsortium: to provoke arousal and make them chase you for validation.

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