The Three Whorewomen Of The Apocalypse

The Bitches of Yeastclit

In white, the First Whorewoman of the Apocalypse, Defiled Womb. She is the harbinger of abortion and single mommery. She holds, alternately, her aborted fetus or her bastard spawn. All that follows in her wake is spiritual and social decay.

In blue, the Second Whorewoman of the Apocalypse, Severing. Her skull and scissors symbolize the severing of Fornication from Reproduction, Sex from Love, Race from Posterity, and Life from Death. She is mortal pride, and her bounty is Pills, condoms, penicillin, and infertility.

In red, the Third Whorewoman of the Apocalypse, Folly. Her wine glass and backless dress are the accoutrements of unbound pleasure, symbols of indifference to Time and Temperance. She is the patron siren of urban powersluts and aging beauties blinded by egotism to the Silent Coming of the Wall.

Red, white, and blue. America the Whoreson.

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Two Old, Brown Men

I like to take lunch at an outdoor patio. Nearly every time I go there, two old, brown men are playing chess. They seem to be friends (in the loosest interpretation of the word), sharing a comfortable familiarity. One brown man is straight from Aztec America casting, looking like he just strolled off the palm oil plantation. The other brown man is deeply Middle Eastern, similarly representative of his kind.

Both look in their 50s or 60s, but they could be 25. You know how people from the Dirt World age badly. Anyhow, these two are a riot to watch together. Both adhere to their race’s stereotypical behavior with lavish enthusiasm. The Merchant from MENA constantly cheats, and when Apocalypto notices his cheating, he explodes in a fury, slapping the table with his open palm and accusing his friend of the vilest breaches of chess etiquette. The accusations fly even when the Merchant hasn’t cheated; Apocalypto has come to expect bad behavior from his dear friend.

Sometimes the fights escalate into shouting matches that can drag on for ten or more minutes; hands gesticulating wildly, faces contorted with rage and indignation, usually ending when the Merchant realizes he can’t soft-pedal his way out of getting caught for cheating (and his cheats are sometimes ridiculously blatant, like the time he tried a two-for-one swipe of Apocalypto’s chess pieces while pointing with his other hand at an imaginary woman he insisted was the most beautiful he had seen).

Despite the endless anger, these two always greet and leave each other with warm hugs. There’s an understanding between them that they don’t even recognize; it goes race-deep, to the bone. Plush SWPL shitlib Whites can’t imagine being close friends with an obnoxious bastard who cheats all the time or who sputters with juvenile rage at the slightest provocation, but amongst brownfolk the rules of friendship are different. They don’t have the same moral standards for friendships. Brownfolk have a tolerance for irritating shenanigans that would drive the typical White man to seek shelter in a gated galaxy far far away. This brownfolk tolerance for ethical lapses and emotional incontinence in friends is likely an inherited accommodation to growing up in a shitty environment where much worse things happen all the time.

It’s just another real world exhibition in the ways in which Equalism is a false religion for outbred, empathobesic Whites who can’t bear to accept the fact that the races of the world are fundamentally different and impervious to intervention.

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Augustus Tilton wryly notes,

It’s like nordics are the only ones ever to beat the prisoner’s dilemma. If everyone refrains from cheating even when no one’s looking, you get a harmonious white society. It takes surprisingly few grits of sand in the gears to gum up the fine tuned machine. Not only do brown people bring corruption and discord, they actually prefer things that way.

Very true, and as another commenter added, the White man *has* to sink to the third worlder’s level or he is doomed to victimization. Assuming the fair play of corrupt peoples is a quick lesson in how to make an ASS out of U and ME.

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The Underground Resistance

MOST REGRETTABLY, I may have accidentally deleted an email sent by a CH reader about a month ago. I regret it because the reader had included a photo he/she took of one of those anti-Trump spray-stencil street artworks that are lately all the rage in shitlibopolises, except in this particular photo some devilish rascal had come along, presumably in the dark of night to avoid being set upon by a mob of limp-wrists slapping him ineffectually, and spray-painted in black our very own reader PA’s international symbol for the Alt-Right squarely over the cucked lib graffiti.

I meant to put this awesome photo in a post, but now I can’t locate it. (not in spam either) If the original emailer is reading, could you resend plz? And as a lesson for other maul-righters, you too should STEP THE FUCK UP and do the same. Spray your dissident seed all over shitlib towns and cities. Let them know they no longer own the public space, that Wokensteins lurk in their shadows. Making libs uncomfortable in their lily-White gentrified bubbles is the least a true patriot should do.

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How To Spot A Shitlady In The Shitlibistan Wilds

This edition of the Washington Bezos’ “Date Lab” is a rarity; not for the beta male’s crash and burn (all too common) but for the clues in the quotes that reveal a budding shitlady navigating the dating shoals of DC, which next to San Frannie and Minneapolis is the shitlibbiest of shitlibistans.

Policy analyst Adam Staveski, 22, and financial analyst Maddie Csere, also 22, are fresh-faced and fresh out of local colleges, enjoying their first year as D.C. young professionals. We sent them to Maple in Columbia Heights to see if a shared love of running, economics and a laid-back attitude was enough to spark a fresh romance.

Read the story and keep an eye out for a name-drop of an infamous Twatter icon.

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Got it? Ok.

Once you’ve found it, consider that this girl, Maddie, might very well be a female shitlord…a shitlady….and I mean that in the most complimentary way.

Evidence that Maddie is a closet alt-righter:

1. Harambe name drop
2. she’s from rural Michigan (Trumpland)
3. according to her date, she’s able to “look at [political issues] with a lot of nuance”
4. one of Maddie’s deal-breakers is someone who’s “extremely political” (aka a shitlib)

Number 3 is really telling. Any shitlady wading through the bug-eyed hysteria of a major shitlibistan learns to handle the local fauna with savviness and a deft inscrutability. Parroting shitlib insanity is the cheap accommodation; better is to retain one’s dignity by slipping realtalk into the hivemind miasma under cover of plausibly deniable “nuance” to avoid triggering one of the snowflakes into calling for ostracism air support.

And number 4 seals it for me; extreme politicization is the domain of liberals. Conservatives are much less invested in publicly debating politics and the status whoring verbal sparring that goes along with it. When a girl says she wants to avoid “extremely political” dates, she means “liberal male feminists who enjoy buttplay (their own)”.

This chick Maddie is RIPE for the taking by any Trumpentrooper who wants her. Just show up with biceps and a smirk.

***

Reader Little Spoon asks,

Can you give them a more attractive name than shitlady? Alt lady? No actually that sounds like some new kind of trans gender. I don’t know. You’re better with words than I am. But going on names alone, leftoid is more becoming than shitlady.

How about shivlady?

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Shitlibistan Smoking

From my bird’s-eye view, smoking appears to be on the rise (again, after a long dormancy) among the SWPL race (the Eloheloi) in shitlibistans. Real smoking…cigarettes, not vaping, or fedora-accented stogie smoking.

Is it a reaction to the decriminalization of pot in many major cities? Public toking is everywhere with police looking the other way. I don’t know if the old timey cig smoking is a reaction to toking that may be perceived by Whites as déclassé now that the Morlocks are strolling around outside with huge blunts dangling off their lips, or if its a product of a general secular rise in substance abuse across the board.

I’m not kneejerk anti-tobacco, but cig smoking is a net negative for health. The aroma of fresh second-hand smoke doesn’t bother me; the stink of it in clothes the next morning, or embedded in car seats, otoh, is rank. I’ve smoked, intermittently, occasionally, lightly, and when I did it wasn’t for long periods of time. Mangan has marshaled a fair amount of evidence that, while cigarette smoking is clearly bad for health, tobacco in smokeless forms may have positive hormetic effects on brain health and longevity.

We’ll see if this smoking trend sticks. I suspect it will, if only because vices in general tend to be indulged more frequently during times when social disintegration and chaos are also on the rise. And smoking may be favorably perceived as a “White thing” by SWPLs when Diversity is slowly but inexorably driving them into conspicuous tribalistic signaling.

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The Xir Response to Trump’s Inauguration

An anti-Trump protester screams 'no' as Donald Trump is sworn in as the 45th US President pic.twitter.com/qmsaFmMSkr

— ITV News (@itvnews) January 20, 2017

That is funny as hell. But again I cannot tell if a shitlib protestor is man, woman, or xir-beast. The modern Left is a Rorschach test. What sex and/or species do you see?

Leftoid protestors used to have a veneer of coolness (way back), until the internet thunderdome exposed them all as androgynous fatty crybaby loser fugs. They’re like a mass catfish operation on normie society; you think you’re reading about scary revolutionaries and then a phone camera catches them blubbering in the middle of the street as cheetos tumble out of their chin folds and you’re not sure if they pee sitting or standing.

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Pudendum: I’ve always had a fondness for Bill Clinton, and this is why:

Credit: @beinlibertarian! Hillary catches Bill staring at Ivanka #Inauguration pic.twitter.com/b0NwQZHb5D

— James Slingsby (@luckyjimsling) January 20, 2017

I don’t doubt that Trump and Bill Clinton were good friends (at one time). Unapologetic alphas who love women tend to “get” each other.

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Race Differences Include More, Much More, Than Propensity To Violence

Black predisposition to violent criminality well above the rates for other races receives all the focus as evidence of innate racial differences and incompatibility with White culture, but crime rate is only one of the myriad ways — albeit a very sensationalist way — in which the black and white races fundamentally differ.

Culturally, mentally, morally, behaviorally, and temperamentally, the group characteristics of blacks are different than those of Whites. The exceptions to these race-based generalities are uncommon enough to compel people to take special notice of them.

One non-crime related difference springs to mind: Blacks are more demanding than Whites. This black personality quirk expresses itself unmistakably when a black person wants information from a White person. The black will rarely say “Excuse me” before politely asking a question, preferring instead the grill-to-grill direct approach: a loud and abrupt assault, often taken from an angle that maximizes the element of surprise, on the personal ear-space of the White, demanding this or that service rendered. Examples of the genre: “YO YOU GOT THE TIME?”, “WHICH BUS THIS IS?”, “FIVE DOLLAR FOR A HAMBURGER. NO? ALRIGHT THEN, PEACE TO YOU”, “YOU GOT A QUARTER FOR THE METER?”, “WHERE THE BATHROOM AT?”, “GOT A PHONE ON YA? MINE’S BUSTED. I GOTTA CALL SOMEBODY.” (like I’m gonna hand my phone over to a ghetto fabulous rando on the street).

Compared to their love of murder, this specialty of blacks is small potatoes, but the little, annoying, black ways of doing things add up to make their Section 8s and District 9s unlivable shitholes for even White libs who profess a love of Diversity and speaking in a steady stream of euphemisms.

And blacks aren’t the only players in town. All the nonWhite races differ in multitudinous ways from Whites; some of these differences are amusing, some are aggravating, and some are downright menacing. Which is why John Derbyshire was correct when he wrote that Diversity should be a seasoning, never the stew.

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