If you asked a reasonable gentleman from our side of the spectrum about what a proper America would look like, his vision would usually involve a racially-coherent society with traditional gender roles governed by some sort of apparatus that was mostly honest and generally represented this society.
The practical roots of his ideals would be functionality and sustainability. For example, a society without traditional gender roles can’t function effectively and will invariably lead to a plummeting birthrate that precipitates civilizational collapse. The proof of this concept is that collapse is literally what’s happening right now.
The flip side is that I’ve never really seen a feasible plan of action from anyone for how we’d get there from here. However, here is basically where the opposite side of the spectrum thinks we should be located. Their problem is that they believe here is a stage on the way to utopia. In reality, it’s simply a slight ledge in the face of the cliff we’ve been hurtling down towards the pit of hell.
Back when society made some sort of functional sense, nobody had heard of a concept called Living Your Best Life. What this means is a hyper-individualistic pursuit of one’s personal fulfillment and happiness. Before you click away, please give me a chance to elaborate.
Now, if you asked a guy from a hundred years ago what this meant he’d probably furl his eyebrows and assume you were referring to having a beer and returning home to plow your old lady after finishing your grueling shift at a blast furnace. He’d take it for granted that she had a hot meal waiting on the table for you.
Unless he was some learned connoisseur of ancient history or esoteric black magic, this hypothetical man from the past had never even heard of trannies yet. Also, vegetable smoothies:
The reality of living one’s best life is far more insidious. This is what Americans on the opposite side of the spectrum from ourselves don’t seem to understand. A society where everyone lives their best lives in pursuit of whatever mental derangement or perversion afflicts them results in trannies forming Satanic cults and murdering people. This is the point of a tranny: to consign its soul to the devil and kill people. Its best life is the end of yours.
I suppose the upside is that this particular killing spree didn’t have a chance to escalate too much in comparison to the great scale of horrors which surely await America:
If Trump manages to get them out of NCAA women’s sports for the duration of his term in office, this brief reprieve will do nothing to address the problem of nascent Satanic death cults metastasizing throughout country. As their ranks swell, expect plenty more to come:
With rare exceptions, sometimes trannies can be funny. I’ll admit that I’ve found some of this hilarious. For instance, Biden’s four star admiral tranny who could’ve been an SNL skit from thirty years ago:
This acknowledgement aside, male trannies trigger a healthy man’s sense of danger just like poisonous snakes or creeps lurking the streets at night. Trannies generate an aura of peril around themselves for good reason. You can sense this dark energy field even if you can’t articulate it. I’ll do so briefly:
Statistically, what the pro-tranny propaganda says is true: they’re much more likely to be murdered than normal straight men. What’s omitted is that this is because they spend their time around other trannies. Most of them don’t become flag officers, either. Their endeavors generally involve prostitution and casual licentious encounters. Such encounters are often with black men who don’t realize they’re trannies until physical interactions are underway.
The more egregious omission is that a tranny’s chance of committing a homicide is multiples of a straight man’s probability in this regard. While this is limited to the unfortunate margins of society before their numbers swell, the end stage of trannies will be what we see with this cult, which is murdering random victims in a killing spree.
We’re rapidly approaching an age of unparalleled terror, when Hollywood fiction of decades long past like Silence of The Lambs will seem quaint and comforting. Perhaps the ditch you’re hiding in from the tranny marauders will have wifi so you can stream this charming classic.
Perhaps they’ll be rabid cannibal trannies trying to eat you. Perhaps your phone will beep because you went over your data limit trying to watch and that’s how they find you. Anything can happen, and eventually it does.
Always remember: every single time, trannies are harbingers of worse to come. The timelines never lie about this part.
Please don’t worry about the future and enjoy your day. Our best lives await.
I’m proud to officially announce my candidacy for the office of Dogcatcher.
One man’s pursuit of happiness is another man’s death cult.
Now there’s the black-pilled Mr. Shackleford we’ve come to know and love! (I had begun to fear you’d lost the faith in the coming Holodomor in your last article).
I know so many friends who are falling for the Trump psyop that I offer this slightly edited excerpt from one who experienced our current situation almost 100 years ago to the day:
“Our people … must not expect an amelioration of the [present] situation, from institutions the representatives of which are the interested parties in our present misfortune. p. 122. A resurgence of the national conscience and the national honor is unthinkable without first bringing those responsible for the previous degradation to justice. The naked instinct of self-preservation will force these degenerate elements and their parties to thwart all steps that could lead to a real resurrection of our people. p. 166. If [our] movement honestly wanted to represent its … mission, sustained by the conviction of the unconditional necessity of the same, it could not draw back from the struggle against this system of lies and confusion. [We must be] guided by the idea that one should sooner renounce a cheap popularity, rather than act against a perceived truth, a necessity that lay before one, and the voice of one’s conscience. And even if one would thereby be defeated, this would still be more honorable than to participate in a crime that had been seen through.” p. 167.
Adolf Hitler, ‘The Second Book: German Foreign Policy’- 1928, trans. Arthur Kemp
“……….. I’m talking about our fall from Grace. I’m talking about the scorn and ridicule the nation has heaped on poor Southern Whites, the only ethnic group in America not permitted to have a history. I’m talking about the city, and I don’t mean Atlanta. I mean Birmingham.
In the country, Southerners put their evil spirits in colored glass bottles hung on trees. But let me tell you what we do with evil spirits in the City.
We start with coal that a bunch of our male ancestors died getting out of the ground. We heat it in ovens till it gives out poisonous gases and turns into coke, something harder and blacker than it was to begin with. Then we set the coke on fire. We use it to fuel our furnaces. These furnaces are immense things, bulb shaped and covered with rust. You wouldn’t want one in your neighborhood. We fill the furnace with limestone and iron ore and any evil spirits we find lying around. The iron ore melts in the coke driven fire. Impurities attach to the limestone and float to the top. What settles to the bottom is pure and incredibly hot. At a precise moment, we open a hole in the bottom of the furnace, and molten iron cascades out, a ribbon of red so bright you can hardly look at it. When I was a kid you could stand on the viaduct above the Sloss furnaces in downtown Birmingham and watch the river of molten iron racing along the ground, incandescent, inexorable, and so unpredictable that a spark from it flew up one night while my father’s friend, Ross Keener, was leaning over the rail of the viaduct, flew up and put out his eye.
That’s the kind of South I’m talking about.”
From the prologue of this book ‘Salvation on Sand Mountain’ by Dennis Covington. 1995.