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Archive for the ‘Escape’ Category

Post-Nice, post-Dallas, and post-…well, pretty much every mass killing that’s happened in the last five years, I’ve been hearing a lot of comments from shitlibs bemoaning the “exhaustion” they feel over all these events, and how it’s more important that ever to keep hope alive and tell people to love each other.

This is the classic shitlib retreat to sentimentality, coupled with a gnawing sense that surrender is about to subsume them, that happens when near-daily doses of reality put the lie, bluntly and relentlessly, to their equalism religion. Liberals retreat to sentimentality when inconvenient facts are freely aired, and surge forward with snark when facts are suppressed. As a Twatter reader observes:

Leftists I know:
2009 – happy, hopeful
2013 – angry, gloating, bullying
2016 – tired, confused, afraid

Why are shitlibs exhausted? Because they’re losing their religion. Religious beliefs — and make no mistake the typical shitlib’s belief in race creationism and autonomic White perfidy is as piously felt and immune to contradicting evidence or reason as any radical muslim’s belief in the teachings of the koran — are hard to dislodge without causing extreme emotional distress.

Religious fanatics, when emotionally distressed by an uncooperative reality, double down on adherence to their beliefs. We see this happening all over the West, as shitlibs and the cucks who lap their runny effluvia come to sound more like gibbering lunatics than sensible classical liberals as the mountain of evidence discrediting their kumbaya worldview crushes them into a brainless paste.

But there’s a stage after the doubling-down. That’s exhaustion. It’s when you’ve lost that loving feeling for your Synagogue but you can’t yet let go of everything you’ve believed in since you were a wee shitlib bouncing on your libdaddy’s lap. Exhaustion, the feeling of it or the claiming of it, is how a shitlib reconciles her cognitive dissonance. No more fighting, now. No more raging against the BadWhites. Just sweet release into the long slumber of empty, nihilist, emotional vacuity. Rest your weary head on that inviting id-pillow, sing “Imagine” in a low whisper, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll wake up tomorrow to a fresh injection of ego-assuaging feelz. Usually this ego reaffirmation takes the form of the shitlib clinging to her rare outlier while ignoring overwhelmingly common instances of the opposite occurring.

***

Related, media shitlibs have taken to cooing stuff like “We can’t let fear and anger dictate our policies.” Newsflash, fear and anger are justified responses to endless violent attacks by enemies within. Fear and anger motivate actions to defend oneself from continuing attacks on one’s countrymen. If you aren’t fearful or angry, you’re holding a useless candlelight vigil and hoping the next truck doesn’t run over you and yours.

Snarky, juvenile language allows media shitlibs to emotionally disengage from a credible threat to one of their own. To wit, shitlibs also like to say “let’s not reduce this problem to something simplistic.” No, of course not. Complicating a rather straightforward horror show — muslim aggression against infidel White Westerners — is the rhetorical legerdemain that allows shitlibs to maintain a facsimile of faith in their Equalism ideology. What the shitlib mistakes for simplicity is to the sane mind known as clarity. More clarity, please, and don’t stop with the clarity until every last shitlib is too exhausted to fagslap the shitlord army as they’re assuming control of the main engine room.

Executive summary:

Houellebecq was right.
Powell was right.
Raspail was right.
Juvenal was right.
CH was right.
Modern liberalism is wrong.

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Some women approaching the Wall so despise having to settle for a dull beta male before the clock runs out that they fantasize about killing off their consolation prizes, and sometimes even go through with it in deed!

For the sake of survival, beta males ought to become acquainted with the telltale signs a woman exhibits when she’s not in love. There are her words, of course….

Investigator DeQuarto had asked her how she felt about Mr. Viafore’s death. Her response, he said, was: “Fine. Over it.”

“She felt like herself,” he testified. “She felt free.”

But it’s a rare woman of incomparable cruelty and capacity for self-sabotage who would admit to her beta male fiancé that she wanted to be free of him (and his beta bux). So men who haven’t yet attained the lofty red-pilled heights of alpha maleness need to watch for nonverbal cues that their women may not love them beyond phony exclamations uttered just before the marital dotted line is signed.

And the more reliable indicator of a woman’s true loveless feeling is her body language, precisely because the body autonomically transmits one’s emotional state. It’s very difficult for most people who aren’t aware of the nature of biomechanics to conceal their real feelings for long under a facade of faked body language. Behold, photos of the murderous woman who killed the beta fiancé she couldn’t bring herself to love:

femalebodylanguage

Leaning away, leaning and looking away, arms crossed protectively over bosom.

If you see any of these loveless body language cues from your girlfriend or wife, it’s already too late to do anything about her state of heart, except two potentially effective interventions:

Dread Game.

Walk away.

That’s it. Don’t be a beta male sufficiently bedeviled by scarcity mentality that you’ll wife up a woman who so blatantly telegraphs her cunt-clasped contempt for you. She might happily watch you die in freezing cold water some day.

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Before I get to the grist of this post, a reminder about my feelings on the subject of coal burning:

On a case-by-case, practical basis, I don’t sweat it if the mudshark and her F YOU DAD boyfriend are only loosely affiliated to me. If the love is real and true (rare, but it happens), I’m not gonna rain on their charade. It’s the Equalist miscegenation propaganda, and the forced platitudes of shitlib miscegenators trying to justify their anti-Darwinian middle finger, that sticks in my craw. If the propaganda and the SJWistic glorification of dindu diving were to disappear tomorrow, I’d probably drop the subject because 1. there wouldn’t be a nonstop media assault of mixed race sproglet abominations to offend my aesthetic sensibility and 2. the risk of emotionally unstable White girls betraying their race’s heritage at the behest of subliminal media messages would be lower.

Now that that’s out of the way, PA provides an intro to the main subject:

Check out that Stephanie tweet. Dad threatens his mudshark daughter with disowning. She tweets the letter saying more or less that “racissss so sad it’s the current year.” Thank God I have sons, no daughters.

Unfortunately (and unsurprisingly, after the mudshark received the serrated side of the CH shiv), short-sighted Stephanie (not fat, looked pretty) deleted her Twatter account, so I can’t dig up the letter her despondent father wrote to his daughter and re-post it here.

But I can say this about that: Every father, every parent, has a perfectly justified and legitimate grievance when a daughter strays from the Good and White to slum it with vibrancy. In fact, I’d go so far to say that nonWhite parents are equally justified to fear their own daughters dating outside the race, and to try to thwart it.

The plain fact of it is that parents want children, and grandchildren, who resemble them and share their temperamental qualities; this is a deeply primal genetic imperative imprinted into the hindbrain. To deny this longing is to deny a piece of one’s divinely-inspired humanity. We can see how the denial looks on the faces of older patriarchs in family photos featuring a mudshark daughter and her dusky affront: blank, listless, sallow, hinting at a soul killed dead from suppressed grief. The eyes have a thousand-coal stare.

What miscegenation comes down to is defilement — of family, of thousands of years of irreplaceable genetic legacy, of Truth and Beauty. This is why, if people (including shitlibs) are honest, they will admit that the thought of their daughters getting fucked — yes, FUCKED… let’s not prettify the gutter rebellion with softened odes to intimacy — by a man of another race, especially of a genetically and phenotypically distant race, disgusts them to their very marrow.

(Oil drilling sons don’t elicit the same degree of disgust, but that’s because sons don’t carry the risk of burdening the family with a technicolor conception.)

mendo writes:

I checked that out and saw the all the people supporting her. There was even another girl that disowned her dad, for other reasons, and was glad she did.

Fucking parenting failure all the way.

Love how the dad had the suitcases on the ready and where she could find them.

greg adds:

Exactly… people forget that, back in the day, banning and shunning wasn’t just for outsiders.

Community integrity demanded that it be applied to one’s own family, if need be.

This is a good time to plug PA’s PSA on how to prevent mudsharking.

My sentiment is that White fathers have a MORAL DUTY to keep their daughters off the coal. To abandon this task, or worse to welcome the reproductive dispossession, is tantamount to betraying one’s own identity. It’s a scary prospect, but it needs consideration. If as a father you’ve given it all you’ve got, and you still lose your daughter to dinduville, then the option to disown is available. If you can’t save her, you can at least save yourself decades of humiliation concealing your torment for social approval.

I imagine the biggest concerns of new parents must be fear of a son growing up gay and a daughter landing in a relationship with a racial alien. This is about as harsh an ugly, un-PC truth as you’ll read anywhere, which is usually the case with truths that emanate from the id, where platitudes find no purchase. Whites currently constitute less than 10% of the total world population, and shrinking fast. Pretty White women are, by a global accounting, as rare as blue lobsters. Throwing that precious gift away and destroying thousands of years of evolved preternatural uniqueness to, in most scenarios, spite a parent or an ex-lover, is the height of folly and the banality of evil.

A Dark Future.

***

UPDATE

Here’s a web cache of the father’s desperate letter to his mudsharking daughter. And here’s a link to an incredibly faggy run-down of the story plus letter, written by Mustafa Gatollari (good lord). Representative quotes: “All right so it’s the year 2016. The civil rights movement happened.”…”Cops shoot suspects in the back just because of the color of their skin.”…”It’s the whole being super racist thing that’s the worst part. Best of luck to Stephanie and her man, and hopefully her dad will realize he’s totally on the wrong side of history,”…”What’s up with us as a country?”

What’s up Mustafa, is that Whites are WAKING UP to the occupation of their country by ingrate goat-humpers like yourself. If you think your feels are hurty now, just wait until the gloves are off. (Mustafa’s whine is so SJW-ish I wonder if it’s a parody.)

Getting back to the Stephanie business and her dad’s letter, one can’t help but think her dad’s words got under her skin, as she felt compelled to publicize his letter for wagon circling “atta girl”s from a small army of degenerate social media sluts.

A father can exert a lot of influence over his daughter by removing the credit card. Too bad Stephylococcus’s dad didn’t avail himself of that option. A woman will bend to a strong man’s will, and that includes daughters who have had their weekly allowance lifeline cut off. If that fails, the last thing left for a father is disowning. No money, no emotional support, no contact ever again. In most normal daughters, this will strike a deep fear and shame in them that may not become apparent to themselves until years later, which will be too late. Mudshark orphans are tragic lessons in preventable suffering that can serve as examples in what not to do for the others.

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And an Abo New Year!

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Via Steve. Backdraft: definition.

A commenter over there adds his dystopian flair,

If you project the African population based on population growth from 2000-2015, Africa will have somewhere north of 7 billion people by AD 2100. That’s well higher than the UN estimates of 4 billion or so. If anything, UN estimates are far too conservative.

There is no way, of course, that Africa will have 7 billion people by 2100. The means by which they don’t reach that number are a matter of intense interest, however. War, famine, disease, or genocide – which will it be?

Note that when I say genocide, I don’t mean nations or tribes of Africans killing each other – I mean Africans migrating out and killing the rest of us. Because at the current rate, if they did so we’d probably let them. That’s how suicidal our dumbass leaders have become.

Perhaps 150,000 years from now scientists will all be talking about how mankind evolved from a people who migrated out from Africa 150,000 years earlier and killed off the hominid populations already living in the other regions of the earth, occasionally raping or otherwise interbreeding with some of them and thus passing on a little of their DNA.

Leftoid: “10% non-White America put a man on the moon. Just think what we could accomplish by importing millions more vibrants into Minnesota and Bavaria suburbs, like this charming fellow overflowing with untapped human capital!”

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When (psychologically healthy, retained survival instinct) White America has nightmares about a demographic tsunami of illegal aliens swamping their electoral prerogative and ruining their cultural, aesthetic, economic, and environmental heritage, Mexicans usually come to mind. But that’s a woefully incomplete picture of the massive and worldwide scale of the immigration invasion to America’s, and Europe’s, White homelands.

The immigration invasion and (so far) bloodlessly genocidal extirpation of Whites from their own countries has its origins in many foreign non-White lands. This map shows the countries of origin of the second most populous immigrant groups leeching living in each US state:

A lot of Phillippinas, Chinese, subcontinental Indians, and, emerging as the next big wave to (re)settle Minnesota, Africans.

Here’s an illegal immigrant country-of-origin map for the year 2012, created from US Dept of Homeland Security statistics.

Not even Whyte. Look at that big fat goose egg representing any immigrants coming from Europe. This is nothing less than total displacement of one race by other races, and it doesn’t matter if the displacement is “illegal”, since the powers that be consider such legalistic fictions to be mere technicalities on the path to a New World GloboCorpBorg.

Are you a PUA hoping that the huddled masses will bring a few huddled hotties your way? Think again.

Sorry, no immigrant Poon Paradise here. Open Borders is Closed Beavers. Unless grandmas make you horny.

In 2013, Mexico was overtaken by both China and India as a source of new invaders to America. Emotionally-barren spergs rejoice at the arrival of our Oriental high IQ overlords, but the rest of us know the score: Increased corruption, nepotism, low trust, social disconnection, and the loss of the myriad intangibles that comprise a culture and make it livable for the founding people who were the creators of that culture.

Is an Asian Future really better than a Mexican Future in America? Eh, I’m not so sure about that. I am sure that a White Future for, shock!, Whites would be best, but for some reason that position is considered beyond the pale of settled discussion by the Puppeteers and the hordes of pants-wetting escapees from the funny farm.

Depressing post. I’ll end it on a high note. Here’s what a beautiful Walled World would look like:

Background on the above map. It’s basically a map depicting border walls around territories where 73% of the world’s income exists. Or: it’s a map of the White World (and honorary Whites, the Japanese) walling off the non-White hinterlands.

A suspiciously unified voice of whiny snark is heard over the Realtalk. “But you can’t just build a wall. A wall won’t do anything to stop the Vibrancy Enrichment!”

Really, now? Tell that to the Israelis. Their wall is working so well that news of it must be ignored by the American Hivemind, lest her own people get the same idea.

According to the most recent quarterly figures published by the Population, Immigration and Borders Authority, 36 people have been caught trying to enter [Israel’s] southern border since January.

It’s an incredible drop after 10,440 were caught in 2012, 17,298 in 2011 and 14,715 in 2010. In the years before that, the numbers were lower but still in the thousands.

Walls work, and construction costs are more than paid for in a few years time.

The fence along the Israel-Egypt border built over several years cost an estimated $377 million, according to the Times of Israel. The Algemeiner reported that the main section of the fence – a 143-mile stretch – took two years to build.

$377 million is chump change to our bloated US government. The US spends over $12 billion on bilingual education programs alone. Even scaling up to the length of the US-Mexico border, it’s clear that cost of construction would be more than worth it in savings down the road.

***

Related to the subject of this post, reader Steely Dan writes about the reality of interracial dating.

I’ve been talking about the interracial-dating disparity for years. Nobody ever wanted to listen. The number of white women who date inter-racially compared to the number of white men who do in my area is quite significant. People always told me that “it doesn’t affect me” and I shouldn’t care. But it does affect all white males. The number of single white males in my area is much larger than the number of single white females.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what an abundance of single men does to a man’s chances to find a woman. There’s a reason men don’t like to go to parties where it’s mostly other men. Hell, even on mainstream websites like Yahoo, they often list Best cities for Single Men, based solely on the male/female ratio of the population. Often the cities that are best for single men only have a higher female population by a few percentage points.

Considering that, just how does one not expect the number of white women in inter-racial relationships not to affect that? On top of that, consider all of the illegal immigration. The vast majority of illegal immigrants are male. This country is turning into a sausage fest.

And who wants to live in a sausage fest.

It’s not quite the case that the “vast” majority of immigrants to the US are male, but it is a majority. And in the sexual market, all it takes is a small population size skew in the direction of one sex or the other to have profound effects on the dating culture.

Maybe The Trumpening should hit the Sausage Fest angle of immigration hard? If he talks about how immigrants are mostly men and are turning the whole country into a sword fight, I bet he’d clean up with the beta male demo. Then he could segue into how most of the immigrant men are nowags, street shitters, and stoop laborer child rapists, and clean up the White women vote.

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Thumping, throbbing, pulsing… a sinuous dolphinoid stroke through crisscrossing waves of briny, grinding flesh, arrive at destination: a ramshackle tropic-themed auxiliary bar. I wave, regally, in the vicinity of the bartendress, to order a stiff one. To my left, propped lordotically on a stool, a slim blonde in slimmer dress squeezes a lime wedge into her love potion. She thinks (incorrectly) a stray sour squirt hit me; I feign injury.

Blondie: “Oh, I’m sorry about that!”

Left hand up to left eye, I execute a grimace with great gusto. “Aagh! My eye! It burns.”

She gawks for a beat, I spread two fingers slowly apart, revealing the abstractly-afflicted eye, peering at her with my miraculously and expediently cured vision through the finger gap, smiling with same orb a reprieve from a personal injury lawsuit. I leave the scene, pressed in equal measure by physiological necessity and the advantages of calculated absence. Her friend, almost as attractive, says “bye” loudly as I set off.

The right inflection can flip a “bye” into a “why not stay for a longer ‘hi'”?

Re-trace my dolphin migration, arrive at bathroom to discharge the blowhole. Too many pissers. The walls bulge, Matrix-like, with the teem of testosterone. Zipping and careful to avoid slipping in the slosh of urine accumulating on the floor, I contort my return way through the crowd to the bathroom exit, as a crescendo of primate chest beatings alerts my early warning detection system. A stygian mutant standing in the doorway prognathously bellows, “That’s rude, man. That kinda rude can get a man killed”, at a retreating Topper pretending to ignore the taunt. He repeats his threat in staccato bursts of gumfire three or four (thousand) times, a menacing series of war cries intended to evoke the fear of an inevitable eruption of normalcy into sudden, violent, pitched battle. I raise my arms into a preparatory garrison as I snake around the rapidly intensifying black hole of gravitational incivility.

Escape velocity achieved. One hundred paces between chaos and rapture. Back at dryland Bar Tiki, the blonde, still seated, still smoldering, shifts to make room for my adjacent insertion. I accost her.

“You know I’m practically blind in my right eye now.”

“You mean, your left eye?”

“Oh, yeah, my left eye. Blind as a bat. At least your right side looks good. I hope your left side makes the grade.”

Her face energizes for gratifying combat. She sparkles, I toggle. Everything is gonna be alright.

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