Without a Homeland

After the Illinois sanctuary bill, it has finally hit me that I’m a man without a homeland. This is kind of a weird feeling; blackpilling and liberating all at the same time. I am not quite sure how to feel, because I am angry now, but calm.

Because I grew up in southern Illinois, I knew my neighbors by first name and they looked after me and my brothers like we were their own. When my parents weren’t home, I had a kinship with those people. I still do but now the land has rejected me and mine.
Illinois is entirely more than Chicago. Chicago is a tumor on a once bright and prosperous land. Once that cancer has been destroyed, the land will be at peace and be free once again.
I lived in Illinois for 24 years of my life and have only been to Chicago a handful of times. The entire drive to Chicago is corn fields and nice small towns, and then you get to Chicago and it’s a leviathan. A glass and steel titan looming over the lake, and overshadowing the great state that feeds its greed. Chicago is an abusive alcoholic step-father who doesn’t provide for his kids and takes what pittance they earn from their measly joe jobs and buys more booze and frozen tv dinners, then demands more from his beleaguered family who sit on the floor hoping to catch scraps of food falling from his beard while he sits in his recliner watching tv.
They don’t try because they have no will. They drive us out of Illinois because they have destroyed our culture. I fell victim to it as did many of my friends. I have tried my best to make a home in Louisiana and thus far have done a bang up job of it if I may say so myself, but still now I have no true home and it sickens me. I am now a grandson peeking in on a sick relative in a nursing home. Every time I hear about Illinois doing something, I look in through the window and see a body dying on an operating table before me, begging me to put it out of its misery, and reaching sightlessly for anyone to help end the pain. Half of me is happy because I can say “you did this to yourself, and sowed the wheat now suffer the chaff,” and the other half of me pangs with guilt because I never stopped them from doing this to themselves. Every time they reached for that bottle and took a swig, I was there to help them instead of slapping the bottle away and telling them to love us instead of that bottle. Look at your family what you’re doing to us. Look at your kids dying because they had no direction.
They’re going to drugs, going to crime, moving as far as possible just to get away, and you’re lucky if they come home for Christmas.
– Goydee Ree

One thought on “Without a Homeland

  1. Hey, Mr. Ree.

    I’m damn sorry to hear about all this, though, I was familiar with more than a bit.

    If it does not work out for you in Louisiana, come on up to Eastern North Carolina.

    Most towns are very friendly, property, and property tax, is cheap as all get-out, and we got lots of piney forests, corn-fields, and

    We’ll like you and you’ll like us.

    We’re not a replacement for your lost home, but, we would be a very very good exile. You and your kind belongs with us.

    All the best to you!

    Like

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