As a resident of Victoria I’m often routinely repulsed by the degeneracy that emanates from the Babylonian sh-thole of Melbourne. Whether it be the syringe filled streets of St Kilda or the Talmudic Tikkun Olam of Caulfield, their cosmopolitan “community planning” conjures up a culture that celebrates cancer.
As clownworld induces cringe cross-dressing cosplay for kids, amplified by autistic alcoholic ANTIFA adolescents who’ve had their impressionable nature exploited by perverted parents, I’m genuinely surprised there hasn’t been more young people drafting their own Declarations of Independence that start with the phrase “Screw your optics, I’m going in!”
With folks throughout the world downplaying the potential of their pattern recognition, as dubious “cultural enrichment” is cited as kosher practice for White Christian society, while simultaneously characterised as hate speech for certain self-anointed “chosen” Hebrew speakers, some people are of the perspective that we’re subsidising our extermination.
While there is a diversity in strategy, such as fighting fire with fire by inverting globohomo’s inversion of good and evil, there is a broad-based consensus that concurs with Commander George Lincoln Rockwell that “You don’t have to be Red and you don’t have to be Dead. Not Dead. Not Red. Dead Reds”
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