Shopping in the Dead Zone

I was in a hurry in early August. There wasn’t much time, but I absolutely had to get a new polo for an upcoming event and would be out of place without one. If I had used a little more discipline and forethought, I would have visited Target (no bully on the tranny bathroom boycott). Instead, nostalgia got the better of me and I decided to shop at what’s left of Virginia Center Commons (VCC). Once the premier mall of Central Virginia, VCC can now only be described as a wretched hive of scum and villainy. Even in the daylight, I needed to be cautious.

You can probably already guess how the decline happened. Around the early 2000’s a newer mall was built about 20 minutes away from VCC. Instead of on the border with the Richmond North Side ghetto, this new mall was in the developing and (at the time) majority white area of the West End of Richmond, Short Pump to be exact. The West End is essentially Northern Virginia now and the area was once fertile farmland, rednecks and WASPy preps that had fled Richmond during the White Flight of the late 60’s and 70’s. It’s still preppy, but the country flavor of western Henrico County is gone and mass consumerism has replaced it – that, and an aircraft carrier worth of pajeets.

Once Short Pump Mall was built, it was sayounara for VCC. The whites left, the nice stores eventually closed and the airbrush t-shirt shops and tattoo parlors opened up. Even normies know not to go to VCC anymore – especially, on Friday and Saturday nights. The parking lot block parties start when the sun goes down and you’d be a fool to patron the mall not carrying (legally, of course).

A buddy of mine was on plain clothes duty once at VCC after the transformation. An older couple hadn’t gotten the message that the mall wasn’t for us anymore. A pack of dindu nuffin “youths” made a TNB comment to the elderly woman and her husband attempted to defend her good name from the group of rambunctious teens. By the time my buddy-cop got to him, he was a bloodied heap on the floor with a broken collarbone and busted ribs. If I recall, I’m pretty sure he died from the assault considering he was in his eighties.

But, the VCC of my youth was a lot different from the desolate husk that it is today. Even as a kid in the 1990’s, I can remember how nice it used to be. That it was a special event when my dad would take me. The now almost abandoned food court was bustling when I was younger. It was practically all-white and you’d think Jim Crow was still around in the mall’s heyday (minus when you visited Foot Locker). With skylighted hallways and decorated with giant palm trees, this was Disneyland for a family without the resources to drive to Florida and pay premium for a theme park.

I remember once that the mall setup these large scale animatronic dinosaurs for the kids to awe at. This was around the time that Jurassic Park came out and the mall was jam packed with kids and their parents. My parents took pictures that dinosaur weekend at VCC and, feeling a little sentimental, I opened up one of our old photo albums and strolled down memory lane. Might as well have been Mars – considering our current state of decline. The aging photos revealed practically all-white families and modestly dressed. Unlike today, circus freaks were missing from ambling around in the background. Children were playing in the food court, while their parents sipped on cold beers and soft drinks. Minus a few changes in the clothing, these photos could have been from the 70’s or the 80’s.

It’s all gone now though. We know why and it’s depressing.

I thought about the old VCC when I visited the dying mall in August. The parking lot was worn down and giant cracks were beginning to show. Out of the cracks new life was growing to slowly replace the old asphalt that had been neglected. It was noon, but the overhead lights were strangely on. The one I parked underneath was flickering and not working properly. I doubt it’s been fixed. It was never like this as a kid. It had been maintained, respectable and clean. This is what happens after White Flight.

As I walked in, I spotted swarthy men (likely Arabs of some sort) in skinny jeans and bugmen shirts sauntering around the parking lot. Their hands full with gaudy-designed shopping bags. I thought it bizarre for a workday in August, but not surprising. They seemed blissfully unaware of the degraded state of VCC’s parking lot. For us, this is a shame and a warning. For them, this is fine.

Dillards closed down years ago. Macy’s too. So, my only option for the polo was Sears – that was surprisingly still open. The whole mall was a cross between a ghost town and the main location in the 1978 film Dawn of the Dead. The mall walkers were old and strange and the only ones working the kiosks and still-opened stores were blacks.

I bought my polo and made my way to the exit. I saw only one other white patron, a soccer mom on a mission. She’d probably made the same mistake I had. She clearly wasn’t wasting time to smell the roses.

As I got in my truck to leave, I spotted a school bus pull up. A gaggle of loud and cackling non-whites disembarked from their subsidized transport. More ghouls to feast on the remains of VCC.


  1. All of us could tell stories of what it was like to live in white America…
    Like taking our rifles and ammo on the school bus so we could shoot
    on the range in the school basement, after school let out…
    In the 1950s…
    In upstate new york..

  2. There’s a positive side to this. I believe we once again must become a culture of White Western Agrarian stock. It won’t be easy, but history has a circular feature to it. An Agrarian/hand craft tribal/community self sufficient race is an indomitable race. I know it is far more complicated than I described it, but it is in essence what built a nation of farmers artists inventors small entrepreneurs. Of course Faith, and classical learning, kin kith & tribe, Shepards of the land, animal husbandry, sustainable family farming, all these things are forsaken for like you said consumerism, living by debt, loss of reverence and humility in God in our daily toils, appreciation of the bounty harvested by our own hands, skilled trade crafts creating tangible assets & wealth, less is more philosophy, all these thing builds the character and indomitable will a people require to not only survive, but thrive, while not being anyones, or anythings fools and useful dupes. I’m talking liberty lived.
    We must find the path to reviving and living these things or we ain’t gonna make it. It is through these things we become community, plurality that is indivisible. The best way is by starting with each of us, it all begins with each of us, thats then how we make it together. Its the honorable resistance. Its rejecting the modern world of corporatism/crony capitalism. its as being this way we become immune to the ways of slavery of the state. We secede in our hearts. our minds and our actions. And actions are what counts.
    I can only speak for myself, I have and am become an Agrarian one man insurgency, because today to be these things is to be insurgent, an open source alt guerrilla waging 4th generation cultural war on my antagonists on the State.
    You got to be willing to do things others fear doing to have liberty.
    We have to become the people who we are admire and look to to be that people, that race of the men of the west.
    If we don’t we will loose without even trying.
    Rid ourselves of debt, (the big one & first leap of faith)
    Learn new skills
    Get right with God
    Create tangible wealth
    Learn history for it teaches and forearms
    Arm thy selves in every facet of small unit infantry war
    Build tribe
    Build community
    Create allies
    School at home
    Grow our own food
    Help others help themselves
    Barter Trade System D
    Learn less is more
    Waste nothin’
    Forget Nothin’
    Always be prepared
    Become an asset to all around you
    Lead by example
    Reclaim Everything
    Retake Everything

    All these things are an asset
    Nobody has a note or claim to this intrinsic wealth and prosperity, you own it, all of it
    By living thusly, your example is like an idea, tiny ripples on a pond, which spread and grow out of all proportion to their humble origins. The great characteristic of White Western Christian Men of The West is we recognize these things as they are natural to our legacy, our heritage and our history. They dovetail with our moral character, fit within the sphere of our faith, they have been done already, and it is only ourselves which prohibit us from this legacy, for what is life well lived but living it well or dying trying. What more could we in our humility as the Christian race in the West ask for and be grateful for?

    PS, great blog!