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Commenter Pusifer (most excellent handle) wonders how a man with a lavish taste for wanton love sheds his accumulated bedroom company.

CH: “One six month stretch I had tore my way through fifteen women”

How do you get rid of them after?!

Some drifted away, some left purposefully, some cried on my porch, some stormed off angrily. Some texted forlornly, but got no reply at all.

A lesson for the ladies: if a man’s heart isn’t ready to merge completely with another, it will be a high hill to climb to convince him otherwise.

This illustrates two big advantages of prowling a densely populated sexual market.

  1. Submersion into the Bangborg. It’s harder to bump into former lovers from among a sea of worker drones and have that awkward “wow so what have you been up to since we last….saw each other?” convo.
  2. If on the off chance you do bump into a past or present plate, there’s an unspoken assumption between atomized hedonists that this is just the way things are in this place we mutually inhabit but separately share. You may fuck me one night, and forget me the next, and I may do likewise, and it would be very gauche of either of us to lament this lay of the land like some sentimental fool.

This also illustrates the one big disadvantage of dating in the bangopolises: if you’re looking for love you can count on, get ready for an adventure that likely won’t end the way you want.

So to answer Pusifer’s question more pithily: the women never left, they just faded to gray.

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An Orwellian story coming out of the Left Coast illustrates just how deranged and malevolent San Fran shitlibs have become trying to maintain their allegiance to the Equalism Narrative in the face of meaty intrusions by race reality.

BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) Withholding Surveillance Videos of Crime to Avoid ‘Stereotypes’

In the last three months, there have been at least three robberies on BART involving groups of teenagers.

“I think people are genuinely concerned — they are fearful about the stories that have come out about the recent attacks, the assaults, the thefts,” said Debora Allen, who is a member of the BART Board of Directors. […]

So far, BART has refused to turn over surveillance video for any of these incidents.

Allen told us the agency issued an explanation for why it is being tight-lipped about the thefts.

“To release these videos would create a high level of racially insensitive commentary toward the district,” she was told. “And in addition it would create a racial bias in the riders against minorities on the trains.”

According to a memo distributed to BART Directors, the agency won’t do a press release on the June 30 theft because it was a “petty crime” that would make BART look “crime ridden.” Furthermore, it would “unfairly affect and characterize riders of color, leading to sweeping generalizations in media reports.”

The memo was from BART Assistant General Manager Kerry Hamill.

Physiognomy alert (aging cat lady schoolmarm edition):

Allen emailed Hamill, “I don’t understand what role the color of one’s skin plays in this issue [of whether to divulge information]. Can you explain?” Hamill responded, “If we were to regularly feed the news media video of crimes on our system that involve minority suspects, particularly when they are minors, we would certainly face questions as to why we were sensationalizing relatively minor crimes and perpetuating false stereotypes in the process.” And added her opinion of the media: “My view is that the media’s real interest in the videos of youth phone snatching incidents isn’t the desire for transparency but rather the pursuit of ratings. [ed: ten bucks says she isn’t offended by the gaystream media indulging clickbait trump-russia fake news] They know that video of these events will drive clicks to their websites and viewers to their programs because people are motivated by fear.”

What a load of Shrewspeak. That last line reveals the rotten core of the shitlib null-soul: pure unadulterated psychological projection. “people are motivated by fear”. Well OF COURSE people are motivated by fear when there’s a REAL FUCKING THREAT TO THEIR SAFETY AND SECURITY. Fear is what shitlibs feel when their world view is crashing down before their eyes, like it is now.

[Allen] says all this raises questions, “What is the priority of BART? Is the safety of the passenger — of all passengers — is that a lesser priority than the race bias issue?”

I’ll answer for the priestess BART class: Yes. Your personal safety is less important than concealing and suppressing the truth about brown and black crime. Now you know the value that our overcunts place on your individual White life. You are nothing but collateral damage in the Globohomo War Against BadWhites Noticing Things.

Read the actual memo from Kerry Hamill, catlady esq. It is bone-chilling in its malignant, twisted shitlibbery. The stuff of Big Sister nightmares. Some excerpts:

Furthermore, disproportionate elevation of crimes on transit interfaces with local media in such a way to unfairly affect and characterize riders of color, leading to sweeping generalizations in media reports and a high level of racially insensitive commentary directed toward the District through our social media channels, email, and call centers. The BART Police Department has a hard copy of all the data provided to CrimeMapping.com. It is available to the public at its Lake Merritt Station headquarters. Many police agencies, according to the Police Chief, provide written versions of their police logs for public review at their offices as standard practice.

The key lie here is the word “unfairly”, as in it’s unfair to characterize some races as being more crime-prone when they are in fact more crime-prone. (It’s OK to characterize less criminal races as crime-prone though; that serves the Anti-White Narrative). The shitlib lies through her teeth when the topic is race or sex, and she lies so often and so effortlessly that she has lost the discernment to know when her bullshit won’t be swallowed whole by skeptical people outside her bubble.

The other lie is the sneering implication that “sweeping generalizations” somehow have no validity in the real world. The opposite is true: generalizations about certain races don’t materialize out of thin air; they become part of the mass consciousness by repeated observation of the behavior of different races.

The social media reaction to the original Coliseum incident in April was startling in the level of racial profiling that it prompted.

Adjustments made to accommodate the truth are often startling to virtue sneering shitlib SWPLs living in prohibitively costly all-White enclaves.

The General Manager got a call about the incident on her voicemail that used racist and incendiary language that made my mouth drop.

Another lie. Deep inside, she silently agreed with the language.

Many posts used patently offensive language that often involved racial slurs (no news articles ever referenced the race of the offenders yet some members of the public leapt to their own conclusions).

Justifiably, the public leaps to certain conclusions about the race of the perps because the media goes out of its way to conceal the race of the perps. Duh?

Some telephone calls and posts even involved vague threats.

She writes this as if she secretly suspects she deserves the business end of The Happening.

The media has proven its tendency to highlight material in the most inflammatory way possible.

Leftoid-to-human translation guide:
“inflammatory” = “truthful”

As a former journalist,

Auto-discrediting.

I can cite for you a number of bias studies that have pointed out media bias and the damaging consequences of it.

Those studies are bunk. (She’s probably referring to stereotype threat.)

The firestorm of criticism in the wake of the Oscar Grant killing centered around a belief that BART police were racially biased. If we were to regularly feed the news media video of crimes on our system that involve minority suspects, particularly when they are minors, we would certainly face questions as to why we were sensationalizing relatively minor crimes and perpetuating false stereotypes in the process.

One, crime by its nature is sensationalistic, and more so when the crime is committed almost entirely by nonWhites.

Two, it isn’t a false stereotype if the stereotype is based on a real, observable pattern of behavior.

The lies dribble from her mouth like cat cum.

I have worked in or with media since the 1980’s.

There’s her problem right there.

My view is that the media’s real interest in the videos of youth phone snatching incidents isn’t the desire for transparency but rather the pursuit of ratings.

Or maybe it’s just an old-fashioned belief that honest and true reporting still matters.

They know that video of these events will drive clicks to their websites and viewers to their programs because people are motivated by fear.

Whenever I hear a shitlib use this line, I want to ask her why she fears racism.

People can be fully informed about crimes that occur on our system without being shown images that will inflame some members of the public and paint the transit agency in a poor and ultimately misleading light.

BART will be bathing in poor light when their transit system is overrun by googles preying on passengers, and years spent actively covering up the nature of the crimes is revealed to the victims’ and their families.

Equalist shitlibs rationalize their narrative as if they fear a justifiable reaction from angry Whites more than they fear unjustifiable criminal predation by nonWhites. But no, what they really fear is the edifice of their carefully manicured egos flaming out upon contact with the illuminating sunfire of plainspoken reality. So they happily lie and throw the occasional bleeding White girl under the bus to preserve their domain of feels.

So many lies, so little rope….

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Psychopathy and Diversity™: are the two like oil and water or match and fuel leak? The answer to this question isn’t so clear. There are two competing forces that complicate analysis.

  1. Psychopaths exploit high trust societies, preying on dupes. Diversity erodes social trust and makes everyone warier of each other, reducing the number of dupes to scam.
  2. Psychopaths are skilled at manipulating the natural antagonisms between people and groups for their personal benefit. Diversity increases the number of groups fighting for resources and representation and thus enlarges the field of play for psychopaths.

FYI I define Diversitopia in any Western nation as majority-minority White plus Other. The US is currently sitting at 63% White, and the true number is worse than that, because there’s a big uncounted demographic market of beaner illegals and a fertility bulge of minority births cresting on the horizon that dwarfs the White birth rate.

Psychopaths would have a rich vein of culture rot to excavate in a Diversitopia because there would be so many tribes to play off one another. But, psychos would have a counter-current to swim against in the form of society-wide lowered trust that would increase the difficulty of finding gullible marks. It’s hard to tease out which way the psycho winds would blow, but my impression is that they are currently thriving in the interregnum between wide-eyed Joke Whites still clinging to their pathological altruism and virtue sniveling and squinty Woke Whites casting suspicion in every direction. Soon, though, psychos may find it tough to extract any more nuggets of self-aggrandizement from a dying America.

PS It’s useful to distinguish generic psychopaths from ashkepaths. The latter is a supercharged subspecies of Genus Psycho and undoubtedly thrive in Diversitopias….at least until they’re ejected from their 6 gorillionth host nation. So if you’re waiting passively for Diversity™ to sufficiently crater trust levels in the body politic and deprive ashkepaths of their nutrition, you’ll wait a long time.

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Ejected from the valences of the elementary particles, a new social science survey (re)discovers that city life breeds loneliness.

Are there aspects of city life that can heighten one’s feelings of loneliness? The charity network Acevo, which set up The Loneliness Project last year to tackle social isolation among young people in London, today publishes a report which suggests young Londoners are twice as likely to be lonely as their counterparts elsewhere in the country.

Young people surveyed for the report cited high housing costs, long working hours and the growth of social media as factors contributing to loneliness in the city.

Part of the reason for this increased loneliness of Londonistan Shrillennials is sample bias. Maybe the kind of people who abscond for the big city life are prone to solitude, or to feeling lonely. But my bet is the two big reasons for the increased urban loneliness are the negative effects of Diversity™, which has been proven to lower social trust and fray social bonds, and the severing of connections to family, neighbors and friends in the home towns from where the fresh London recruits hail.

Loneliness is a combination of distrust of your neighbors and density of strangers in your proximity, intensified in those with introvert personalities. The modren deracinated Western megalopolis deepens feelings of distrust and sharpens the division between the soulful social connectedness the new resident left behind and the stew of mystery meat animus he bears and the self-protective ennui he adopts when he moves to the city to become a “stranger in a strange land”.

The report recommends, among other things, the establishment of a mayor’s Fund for Young People’s Resilience and Inclusion, worth £3.2m, to help ensure that young people build the necessary strong social connections to battle isolation.

Instead of blowing money on another fruity lib welfare project doomed to fail, how about enacting long-term plans to reorient Western societies so that there’s a backing-off from the rush to stuff everyone into these market bazaar soulless anthill megacities, and a concomitant revival of small cities geographically distributed across the nation into which smaller, more cohesive groups of people can sort themselves?

Of course, this won’t happen under the globalists’ watch, because it would mean stronger local community bonds, less concentrated Diversity™, and more affordable housing, all social goods which undermine the political and cultural power of insular coastal elites.

Having tried both rural and city life, I’ve come to the conclusion that although you can experience loneliness in both, it feels more pressing in a city environment. I’ve just moved to a big city and I’m reminded again of how alienating it can be. When you’re approaching 50 and trying to ‘start again’ in a new place, it can be really hard. In a city it can feel like the whole world is out having fun, which makes you feel like a bit of loser. (Polly, Edinburgh resident)

Big cities are intimidating. The more people around you, the easier it is to get lost among them, to lose track of your own self. In big cities one can be completely busy doing so much and be left with little to no time to nurture any particular relationship or interest. Therefore, you’re living surrounded by people, but connected to no one. (Gustavo, Chicago resident)

Growing up in a city that had little to offer but decrepit playgrounds, underfunded schools and a sorry park, I spent most of my precious childhood at home staring at screens. Later, I was compelled to move out of the city and into a more suburban, almost rural place. After a rough phase of adaptation, I was overwhelmed with the cordiality that surged up on me. Within a year, I made dozens of friends, met the girl I now live with and developed a much more positive attitude. (Donald Saunter, ex-Saarbrücken resident)

I personally feel that NYC has become a more transient place rather than a community-building place. There’s no real sense of community left. The city has also become an investment haven for absentee foreign owners. It has also become a homogenised ‘Disneyland’ of sorts – imitating itself like the New York New York hotel/casino in Las Vegas. Another life-long New Yorker I know once referred to the city as a ‘five-star jail’ which I found to be pretty accurate. What can be more lonely than a jail? (David, New York City resident)

I have a thing for major cities, but they can be intimidating. While anonymity isn’t necessarily always bad, big cities do leave you somewhat unprotected and exposed. But part of that loneliness means cities are the ideal environment to discover yourself in your own light, without feeling like you are being watched or frowned upon, and really thrive. (Juliana, Buenos Aires resident)

Juliana is the kind of girl I prey on in the biggest cities. Girls who need to “discover themselves” free of judgmental family or friends who would “frown upon” their sexual adventures. (Let’s cut out the bullshit…in femmespeak, “thrive” means “lotsa cockas”.) This lifestyle does come with its downsides, though. Ironically, urban atomization and its discontents offers a chance at romantic redemption for loveless beta and omega males by giving them the closest facsimile to an “SMV blank slate” they can hope to have.

I once wrote that the anonymity afforded by dense city living was a godsend for aspiring cads, (and a threat to aspiring dads), as the urban milieu does a good job sheltering men from angry ex-boyfriends, bored gossips, and disapproving parents. Similarly, the anonymizing urban jungle encourages permissiveness among girls who don’t have to worry so much about their reputations and walks of shame circulating far and wide among watchful family and friends. They can let their slut flag fly.

The loneliness of city living isn’t its sole enervating aspect, but it will contribute, along with the sexually primal, non-inclusive secret society that hums just underneath the city’s androgynous veneer, to a vast interwoven malaise that saps souls of meaning and wombs of nurslings.

The open borders project forced by a 0.1%er elite on an unwilling citizenry can be viewed in the context of this post as a poisoned ameliorative for the negatives of big city life, specifically the fertility depression and the spiritual depression brought on by social atomization. It’s no wonder elections are more and more shaping up into existential battles between the working and middle classes in the countryside and the dregs and upper classes in the cities. Rome fell under similar strains. Barring a Trumpian reversal, we will too.

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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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A reader submitted his encounter with Diversitopia in America, lived to tell the tale, and wants Chateau guests to know that they don’t need to fear they’ll be alone when the storm comes.

******

The coming war that needs to happen

Seigneur de la Chateau Heartiste,

I have been considering this correspondence for some time now, my delay being in part to the rigors and schedule of my work as a welder and construction superintendent, and also in part due to my recovery which has been longer than anticipated.

In March of this year, I was attacked by a shining example of Diversity! (Inc.) in Baltimore, Maryland.  I had returned to my car after having a few drinks with friends in a recently gentrified artsy fartsy part of town– don’t ever let that fool you in Baltimore or any other major city with a significant black population where recently converted ghettos may have been sold to productive human beings for fire-sale real estate prices.  There is no part of this city where a “good” neighborhood is less than 500 to 1000 meters from a slice of Mogadishu.  Predators learn the travel patterns of its prey.  I see it every day when I drive to work through Liberty Heights and other squalid hells.  Since the attack I moved to Annapolis, the last big town in Maryland not connected to the others by way of subsidized transportation in the form of the Light Rail network, Amtrack-MARC lines, or regular bus shipments of the third world.  To live in Annapolis largely means to work elsewhere, and to work elsewhere means to have the capacity to own, register, inspect, and insure a private motor vehicle for which you are responsible for maintaining.  The automobile may be our salvation if we let the cattle cars crumble, as at least then we can largely immobilize the third world into their respective islands whilst we build walls around them with the machine gun sectors pointed in.

[ed: fyi this is one reason leftoids hate hate hate the privately owned automobile]

As a former US Marine, I am painfully aware of the security risks of Baltimore, and go out of my way to reduce my need to resort to force for survival.  At approximately 10 PM, I sat in the driver’s seat with the engine running and texted a few friends while I let the engine warm up (diesel car, cold night).  I was parked in the corner of a restaurant parking lot that is surrounded by fence on all sides save for the entrance– trapped.  Suddenly, to my left, a loud banging against my driver window caused me to drop my phone, and I looked up in horror at some young dindu punk with a cheap Hi-Point brand 9mm pistol leveled right at my chest ordering me to get out of my car.  I raised my left hand in a stop motion to show him I meant no harm as my right hand inconspicuously but instinctively went for my right hip where, if I were in Virginia or my native New York, my hand would have grasped the hilt of my Glock model 27 .40 caliber soul liberator.  The realization of its absence is when the blood truly drained from my face, and the icy cold reality of having to get out of my car and into the jaws of the beast to negotiate for my life set in.  Had I been able to drive off, I would have done so, and run this dindu down in the process by a fast reverse with the wheel hard to the right.

The instant I lowered the window to tell him to take the car, he started pulling on the glass (thanks for the fingerprints, asshole) and managed to force my window down to reach inside to pull the door handle. He grabbed me by the shirt, and pulled me out of the car but my seatbelt slowed my progress. He kept screaming, almost in a frightened manner, to “get out of the fucking car.” His pistol-whips came raining down on my head and somehow I was able to get out of the car when I tried to just run, but was on my knee with the door open and my right leg still in the car. He kept screaming for the keys, when I yelled, “they’re in the car, they’re in the car!” On about the fourth or fifth smash to my head and face with his crude instrument of an impoverished savage, I saw a starry flash and knew this cocksucker was going to kill me if he was able to get control of my car. I unclipped my Benchmade 4.5″ Stryker knife when I felt him lean over me to look into the car and plunged the glinting tip of my shiv directly into his abdomen somewhere near his spleen. I pulled the knife out to go for a second thrust when I barely got the edge of his blue hooded sweatshirt as he was in Jessie Owens mode running for the street nearby to make his escape back to the shadows. It just goes to show that we are ceding Western Civilization without so much as a whimper, because the instant I became a hard target capable of presenting danger to him and taking his life, he ran like a spearchucking skinny after the last gazelle on the grassy plain.

After driving off hurriedly to safety and dealing with the police, where my vehicle and knife were impounded for evidence for the night, I called my loved ones to let them know I was OK. The smiling southern belle who worked in the evidence lab gave me my knife back when I went to retrieve my car, smiling and thanking me for “marking” the son of a bitch while mentioning that she took the time to completely wash off all the blood for me. Had she not had a wedding band on, I might have asked her if she liked coffee, and if not, the company of handsome men.

The recovery was a bit longer than I expected. I went to see a neurologist and had an MRI in the coming week to check for bleeding, as my girlfriend said there were several times that I stopped mid-sentence and lost my train of thought completely. In addition to the headaches from the concussion, I went approximately three weeks with SEVERELY reduced libido– thankfully that has all worked itself out and I am functioning again as a physically fit man. That fucking dindu nearly made me a eunuch for a car whose resale value is less than ten grand, and one I tried to give him as the insurance company (one of those things that only white people have) would have paid me up in full when my car was found wrecked or parted out in some hole in the city. The black eye and swelling lasted for about two weeks.

Enclosed is a photo of my face that morning, as I decided to go get a line of cocaine’s worth of coffee before heading home to shower and clean up. [ed: injury status confirmed] Later that evening, my girlfriend and I went to a pub in Annapolis to just enjoy each other’s company and celebrate our love and my still being here on this earth– rather than her standing with my parents as my fellow Marines fire three volleys over my lifeless corpse. A gentleman sitting next to us with his girlfriend interrupted us to say that he was a photographer and graphic designer, gave me his card, and asked if he could take our picture for us because he “never sees the kind of affection in couples nowadays.” This wasn’t the first time we were complimented on being so “obviously in love,” so I know it wasn’t just the previous evening’s events that was causing this reaction. My girlfriend will always sit close to me, or in booth-seat restaurants, next to me. I give her the non-hoverhand, and occasional smile or peck on the cheek as I like to refrain from public displays, so what you recently wrote about a woman who has to fight to contain herself resonated that I must be doing something right. The body language in that photo is admittedly a bit beta, but the guy asked me to lean in and kiss her while she looked at him for the specific purpose of hiding my bloodied and bandaged left side of my mug. [ed: it was about as alpha as a peck on your girl’s cheek could look, so well done. cute girl, too 👌🏻] She insisted on being on top that night because of my bruised state. I let her have that request for about half the session.

The experience hasn’t really changed me, but it certainly has honed my resolve, Heartiste. If white men are to take back the cities they built, they will need to use the same weapon on the dindus as they do on us– fear. Civilization is starving for squads of proud, iron-pumping and steel-strapped shitlords to peaceably take to the streets in fearsome enough numbers to remind our squatting guests that transgressions will be met with the same but multiplied. Western Civilization is hungry for her men, and any political advocate of disarmament should be treated, verbally at first, as nothing more than someone who wishes you a terrible death. Do not be their friend. Do not play nice with them in the workplace lest your advancement or security rest upon it. Do not tolerate their bullshit, and remind them who are committing the murders (dindus). Ask them if they would buy an affordable house in the shit pit to live with the pets they so admire. Rub their fucking noses in the shit they have dropped on the floor in which to test white men and white civilization.

Please keep up the tireless work. I sincerely believe that Le Chateau is at the forefront of important work for the coming storm.

As always, you have my faith and support.

******

Six decades of this equalism shit is enough. These lethal Diversity™ skirmishes are taking place all over America, and are routinely ignored, suppressed, or sanitized of relevant facts by our anti-White Gaystream Media. And our White foot soldiers who are out there on the front lines taking black flak and fighting back are targeted for silencing and intimidation by Creep State operatives who will allow nothing to stand between their cushy sinecures and their dream of a one world open borders globohomo dystopia.

Which is to say, lunatic libs are at the helm, and their disfigured morality has made war inevitable.

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If you’ve ever lived in a diversitopia — I mean an area with real Diversity™ not just black and White but multiple races living under one neighborhood roof adding to the colorfully hazardous stew — you’ll notice a peculiarity that shitlib SWPLs would rather you never mention, which is that nonWhites — the subcontinental browns, the aztecs, the orientals, the MENAs and even the fuckin mystery meat race orphans, among others — treat blacks so much worse than Whites treat blacks. Blatantly, rudely worse.

You’ll often see a scene where some bindi is excoriating a black service worker for tardiness or general incompetence. As a White person, you might cringe a little at the scene, even though you know gandhi is right on the merits. A part of you wants to chastise him for not recognizing the informal rules of engagement in America when dealing with blacks: abide their shortcomings with a sumptuously magnanimous spirit.

It’s as if all the world’s empathy, big heartedness, and indulgence were concentrated in just one race — White Western Europeans — and the Lord of Lunacy decided no other race but Whites should possess such divine traits. Whites alone seem to have the ability to grasp the failings of another race and to obligingly adjust their behavior to draw the least amount of attention to the stark racial differences when in the company of members of that race, so that they don’t feel like lessers in the presence of superiors, or like oddballs in a world where White norms of social interaction are foreign to them.

NonWhites, however, whether they grasp the inherent and therefore unmitigable nature of black failings or not, care not a whit for blacks’ feelings and will gleefully, almost sadistically, make their displeasure with black incompetence known to participant and spectator alike.

All this is a roundabout way to reiterate the infamous CH maxim “Diversity + Proximity = A lot of hurt feelings and suppressed aggravation”. Diversity is not our strength or our moon landing; it is our miseries heaped atop miseries, only prevented from exploding in a cataclysm of spite by wealth transfers (aka paid ransom) from Whites to nonWhites.

PS I used to have to drive a short way through a shitty hood that was half-black and half-hispanic. Along this one residential street a hispanic gang (possibly MS-13) would gather across the road from a black gang (whose members were belched up from the deepest ghetto pits), and I’d drive between the two groups on occasion. They never mingled, and every time I drove by it looked like a shooting could go down in an instant. It was like West Side Story, except a lot more ominous. Ese Side Story meets The Wire. Anyhow, one day I was perusing the police blotter for entertainment value, and read that there was an incident on that street that included multiple stabbings and one victim that was seriously injured after “being thrown into a moving vehicle”.

NonWhites can be marshaled to gang up on Whites for a time, but their seething intertribal hatreds will always make it difficult for their handlers to keep their hatreds focused on the prime enemy.

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