My tears for Sky-king: I got your backa my cracka

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don’t breaka my hearta ya cracka!

I am not sure the alt-media has this guy’s story nailed -downed. As soon as I started to see the media reports, I knew from a based-belly feel, I did not want to hear the audio.

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His voice though, his sweetness, his my-peopleness. THe way the (((msm))) gaslights us and has only aggression and wants to kill us. Rejoices in the misery they cause.

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See how great and noble savages vibrant you mayo-mutts?

 

I suspect his problems were deeper than your average attacked cracka.

 One of the beauty parts about recognizing that you are an attacked cracka, is it comes with a sense of duty and purpose. 

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You become solderiezed

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and realize there are a million and one tiny-papercuts of ways you can advocate for your fam-fam. That every single time you do it is tiny triumph and just like water you can cut great canyons. 

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I get picked on by all kinds of people. People who, for whatever creepy reason (they are the embodiment of evil but let’s pretend for this blog-cast we don’t know) stalk us and lurk in our groups and pretend to be us. like an entire race of groace unwanted advances. Whatever. Nobody cares. #metoogoyimstyle lol

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But I did listen to this walking home. And I did break like a chicken egg filled with some weird flu-vaccine. I did have a long way to walk. I did stop and rest against a wall. I was grateful that by the blessing of diversity no one would notice my suffering that I find shameful. I ended-up crying for a long time about this. 

Today I also thought about this:

Lord only knows what led up to this incident. oh but whitey gets witch-hunted. like I am expected to believe he went into this do-nut store for the explicit reason of harassing the nasty person who called him b1tch? Black people say that magic word as if they have diarrhea of the mouth and will die if they don’t say it every half a second. They say it in public. They say it to me. But if a white person says it they fall out like a busted out sagger that has to run with triangle legs from the cops?  WHY?

why do we tolerate this? 

Why can I not say- “I got your backa my cracka!” and fist bump or nod or raise an eyebrow to my brethren? Why can I not take a stick and draw half a fish in the sand in front of me and have my fellow cracka draw the other half? 

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WE all know what is going on. we all know. we all are part of a particular spiritual body. Never underestimate the profound effect that advocating for your brethren will have on their beleaguered souls. however small the act. remember that most of our innate communication is very subtle indeed. We are not the (((globo-homos))) of foul hysteria.

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Listen through your belly and hear the beautiful hum of your people. A hum that builds honey-combs and the whole world depends on. Remember to be strong. Remember your purpose and that your greatest weapon is joy.

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Wise up white man and sing your own song

 

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And of course:

This is the arresting beauty of us.  

This is our unique and glorious culture.

This is the beauty that everyone else wants to destroy and benefit from.

Everyone of you that is a genetic expression of this profound love has an obligation to live loudly and joyfully.

(post script: had to reload this bc wordpress must be staffed by idiots with man-buns and wouldn’t let me media right)

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Bad or Glad News about the day of the rake: Shocking hidden Leaf Documentary re: Tard RCMP

justinI must interrupt my cousin-poasting to bring you happy or sad news about the lost living on top of us. While we suffer greatly from the entitled fees of those billowing in from the south like a swarm of chupacabras-

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If you don’t like being the goat in this pic you are a horrible racist!

 

 

 we true blue-blooded Americanos are also suffering from the feckless nature of the leaf.

To be nakedly honest- our northern neighbors have always reminded me of a description made about my beloved auntie: She is a woman with a very small mouth who keeps it closed tightly. 

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Not my aunt’s real mouth but for the love of God the images I was exposed to searching for ‘small mouth’ I had no idea that was a porno-fetish. Is there anything left in the world that hasn’t been turned into a porno-fetish? It’s similar to how our greatest allies are determined to convince us that the only reality is material. Same concept. The only value of your life is harming some warm hole. Nothing could be further from the truth or so wholey evil.

True enough. We love her to bits but she doesn’t get much attention from others because all she ever offers in conversation is- “well- I suppose so. Is that what they told you?” Followed by a charming if Canadianesque chuckle. Easy to ignore. Inoffensive even.

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Auntie looks more like this with less man chin and mouth-dearth

Our lady of quiet nation has been grabbing attention as of late due to her hyper-f@ggotry vis a vis one Justine Trudeau. Truly the Cuck of the Walk. Truly his mother’s son.

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Justin’s mommy teaching Big Mike a lesson or two about how to ghetto-up the position of First Lady. Nihilism is truly inspiring.

I decided I must look into their dysfunction and get to the deep tap root that their syrup springs from. I must warn you this is the very reason it is so important to do your own research! But also what my ground-breaking delve into the darkness of Canada revealed is xir’s problems go much farther back than the lame stream media reports. In yet another of their cover-ups they have denied that the foggatry of the Canadian dates back to the age of television.

Warning! Sensitive viewers may find the following footage disturbing. Viewer discretion is advised:

How are these foppish bleeding-heart misguided leaves help us wage this spiritual war?  This documentary of the Maple-plague is the only actual relevant portion of this poaust, do not be Dudley-do-Cuck!

Do they deserve our protection? One of the only times my dear Auntie spoke at length she simply said-

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I realize I pretty much doxxed myself by posting this mock-up of my auntie. You may have heard it- but you didn’t hear it from me- if you ever find yourself in a lampshade-shoppe in Montreal run by a woman with a crooked photo-shopped mouth and a birthmark on her forehead that resembles a spiral water-mark who has nothing to say; back away slowly, tell her that you too find her niece very charming and hit a quick bellamy salute to avoid being next-weeks special, of course if you have beautiful skin that is

“Those who want to live, let them fight, and those who do not want to fight in this world of eternal struggle do not deserve to live.”

I was just like whatever, auntie! Do you remember the recipe for a peanut butter sandwich and she said would consult her African cook-book.

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She gave me this! I sent her to Quebec as there was no hope left. My own Auntie some freak communist!