So, you dislike native, southern, white Protestants, and anyone like them. You're not alone, there, but you don't like the company of those who agree with you, let alone their political bent. So, you're stuck with us, aghast.
You're a very conflicted person, B-Chan. Go find your precious monarchy, if you can quit us, lol. We certainly don't want monarchy, not now, and not when our fourth, fifth or sixth great grandfathers fought and won the Revolution that gave you the right to make yourself sound like the effete poseurs we defeated.
To quote Montie Python:
“That’s the kind of Phylistiene Pig Ignorance we’ve come to expect from you non-productive garbage.”
I’ve seen this kind of mindless, Neo-Marxist, bed-wetting, Exorcist pea soup spitting before. It’s done from low rent appartment dwellers on perpetual welfare that couldn’t keep a job. Their best know accomplishments are their abbility to fake Turette Syndrome to legitimize their SSI checks.
They laugh amoung themselves cooking up their spew like a circle jerk party or a bunch of freaks lighting their own farts.
It would be cheeper and expend less effort if they left the US and moved to the “socialist utopia” (ha ha) that they so brag about. But instead, because they can’t do the math, they go about like insaine roaches destroying and grafting from the neighborhood they live.
They hand out medals to themselves lacking from the start the most important part of where the medal rests, THE CHEST TO PIN IT ON.
The real insaine part of their stupidity is that they think they will gain from all their efforts. As has occurred with every false utopia these same fools have signed on to over the course of human hystory, they won’t obtain anything from those spouting the false promises to them, they are low on the food chain, the usefull idiots, and they will be the first to be dead by the hand of the false prophet they served.
Death the GREAT LEVELER.
Au contraire. I graduated from the public high school in Texarkana, Texas. I walked among them for years, witnessing their savage ways, and barely escaped alive to tell the tale.
They're still out there, breeding... cooking meth... applying Bondo to T-top '81 Pontiac Firebirds. Come the day when televised sports go off the air and Lite beer deliveries fail, their primitive rage will expland beyond the ability of crackpot preachers and corrupt East Texas cops to contain.
And then... THE HARVEST...