The Vanilla Gorilla picked me up at Joliet, Union Station. In his big thundering pickup, the same one he used to rescued me from the Palisade Fire, in Los Angeles a year ago, he rescues me from 6 below in Joliet. He is back up to 220, all muscle, blonde, handsome—why do I not take it easy on him stick-sparring? So, my very own, nomadic meatshield rescues me again. Informing him of the novel Skinnies! Outlined with Montius in Wichita, Kansas, he smiled:
“They must hate us Textards up there—can’t even agree on how to spell or speak the stolen name of their actual real town! Like Vegas taking the Oakland Raiders then forgetting where the hell they got them from. Wichita Falls is not something many of the people there say. Let’s not count the boomers—are they human, maybe! But, as a great mind recently said, talking to a Boomer is like having an argument with your TV. Now, if your are young enough not to be a Zogbot, and you are an actual white man, or a shit-kicking, redneck, rodeo belt wearing pickup truck driving black dude, you call it Wiggertall Falls.
[laughter]
“It’s real, James. Not only is Wichita Falls the wigger capital of late stage collapse America, it is the black rodeo nexus of Texas. Texas Negroes are a special breed, which one is weirder than the other, I don’t know. Now, if you are a wigger, or a niցցer, you will call it Fallstown! Semantic segregation is real. It at least makes sense. It’s not like the Aunt Karen Army of Gets-no-good-white-dick makes more sense. Or being an Italian ZOG douche masquerading as a government Jеw, fucking with the Fed’s in protection of a nine-billion—fucking billion, bro—Somali daycare grift, packing the shittiest SIG known to man, then picking a fight with ICE. Now ICE, fuck them, right. Five years from now they’ll be shooting me for transporting my children across state lines. I’d rather smoke weed at an ATF/DEA dickhead convention, right? So, you have Kunt Karen shot in the face for playing Fed sportsball with her dyke minivan. Then, this twerp shows up—probably part of the MK-ULTRA Lisp Side program, and gets arrested. On camera mind you, body cam and other shit. They have this guy down—like five ICE goons. They have the gun stripped and cleared. Then somebody yells, ‘Gun!’ and two, not one, but two of these dicks, mag dump on him, into his fucking back!’
[laughter, rising, extreme, mutual laughter, for not more than five minutes, but little less]
“What the fuck. I mean, if Trump sold Karen-hunting licenses, faɡɡot-hunting tags, progressive depredation tags, shit, I’m first in line, bring the wife and kids—and her Mexican father—he’d be all about it!
Drags off his weed vape and grins, “White nationalism, shit. White people are faɡɡots. I’m waging war with my vanilla gorilla extract! We are bleaching the most based babes in the non-nigger mudslide and making hybrid vigor babies. Like Arnold. Look at the kid he had with that scary-eyed Kennedy ϲunt: a fat piece of jiggling shit. Sell him to the niցցers to fry chicken in. You see he knocked up the Mexican housekeeper—you see that guy—chip off the old Austrian block; Chaddiest Chad out there, a man of action! That’s a son. That’s what I want—got me the Aztec princess to breed on, just like Cortez—whose badder ass than Cortez, right, wipe out a heathen civilization and bring the best babes to God! Her father deals in jеwelry and got me an 80% discount on just the right ring for Frazzetta Girl. Don’t let her know. Then he will give her to me at the Orthodox church where we have a real pastor, not some simp, ZOGbot Baptist, no cucked Methodist or gay pride Lutheran, no dick-sucking catholic priest, but a real man with a family to go to for advice when I fuck up.
“Her dad is her hero, my dad is my hero, neither one eats government shit or kisses mutual fund shoes. Thing is James, I want to stay here in Illinois, as cucked as the state and as fucked as Chicago is. Because I live in Kanakeke County. We call it KKK! We have three years to make money as white men, three years to write your books, then the ZOGhammer is coming down. This is the false spring before the Beastwar. They killed millions with their phony vax—but they killed their own. And the niցցers know they aren’t their friends. They change the rules of sports ball to make it blacker—so I follow the NHL, watch crackers beat the fuck out of blackie in the cage, in the ring. They know, in a world without friends, that they’d rather cut a deal with a strong honest race then depend on these squirming worms out of Screw York. So what do you have in Minneapolis, supposed race war between white feds and white Karens, with two dead white people. You can fool boomers, wiggers, sell-out bitches and newsbots. But black dudes know. You can’t lie to a people you schooled in the lie who still have an identity deeper than clickbait text. In three years, when ZOG is hunting us down, our women and children can hide in plain sight—under color, if you will—while we test the machine to see if the wheels are ready to come off. Yeah, that’s funny as shit, shoot Aunt Karen in the face. But that’s us in three years, just for the crime of our skin. Can’t wait!”
…
Yes, sir, things are looking up. Just put your shades on before you look up, because Uncle Sham has been playing magnetic field roulette with Helios, who is known for having a hot temper.
