I waited until it had cooled down this evening before I went out to shop. It had been over 100 today and the heat waves were still rippling on my car hood, long after 7PM. I drove to the nearest large grocery chain which is named Food4Less, but which whites have renamed "Foo's fo' less" because of all the blacks that now frequent the place. The invader Mexicans have also found the store now, and the original white clientele had all but vanished in disgust.
I went there today however, because I was under the mistaken impression that there wouldn't be a lot of muds there at that time of evening. Brother, was I wrong! I had completely forgotten one very important fact that throws the whole routine in a tailspin once a month. It's Welfare Day.
As I entered the store, a chubby niggah ho' stood leaning against a wall. One finger digging industriously in her itching ass, and the other one buried up to her elbow in her huge, flat nose. The sight disgusted me beyond words. Class act.
On the first and third of the month, all the blacks, illegals, and government sponsored immigrants (which are now as huge a problem as the other muds) get their government checks and food stamps. There are also tens of thousands of able-bodied niggah ho's and lazy bucks that jam the store aisles with the electric shopping carts the store provides for disabled shoppers. Of course the only thing wrong with any of these bucks in that they're lazy, but still they have the balls to ride around in these carts, cutting right in front of everyone to check out their free grub. And there's not a damned thing a white can do to stop them.
But back to this evening's fiasco: I pushed my cart up the first isle and was immediately bowled over by an extremely fat ten-year-old wetlet female, who was running to get back to her very pregnant mamacita (is there any other kind?), who had four more screaming brats orbiting her like flies on a carcass. I can't remember when I've seen an uglier bunch of mestizo kids. Gaaarrggh! They were so ugly, I bet they have to sneak up on a glass of water to get a drink!
They say drinking and driving don't mix. Well, I know two things that mix even worse than those, and that's Spaniards and Aztecs. The result is a species that should be wearing underwear on their heads.
I couldn't get past the blockade of muds and was forced to back all the way up and go around them to resume shopping. I immediately ran into the fattest, ugliest niggah ho' that God ever created. Damn, she was ugly! It actually made my eyes hurt to look at her. Her ass looked like the rump of a dead hippo that had been forcibly stuffed into a gigantic pair of spandex leotards, making me fear for my life should the stitching suddenly give out, smothering me in an avalanche of stinking black ass. I knew the meaning of fear.
Like her Mexican counterpart she was also extremely pregnant, with her belly jutting out almost as far as her ass. She had twin niglets with her, and both of them were crying and slinging snot while they reached out with sticky, nasty little crack scratchers, trying to grab the candy on the shelves. That bunch of Mestizos may have been beaten with the Ugly Stick, but these two little niglets had the market cornered on ugly. I swear to you that I was overwhelmed with a powerful need to grab both of them by their collars with only two fingers each, like you'd pick up a stick with shit on it, and drop them in the nearest dumpster.
After seeing this pair, it was no longer a mystery to me why there's been an epidemic across America of abandoned niglets being found in dumpsters. Two uglier, nastier little wogs have never been created. I came extremely close to turning to the ho' and asking her flat-out, "Why did you reproduce?"
I used to wonder that all the time until I realized that it's all about the money. The more kids they pop out, the more money our liberal government rewards them with. Most of these hos' are living far, far better than you or I, believe me. Just one niglet can rake in over $500 a month extra. Times that by six, and add that to their base pay of $1,200 a month, and you've got a pretty good tax-free income..not counting the food stamps.
Anyway, the bright side of all this was that they ruined my appetite. This prevented me from buying more junk food than I needed. But my entire shopping time was a constant battle with families of muds, who were filling up to the brim as many as three carts apiece, and all of it paid for by us working whites. There were many instances where I had to simply stop and lean on my cart and wait in disgust as a pack of filthy wetbacks or blacks choked the isle and refused to move for anyone until they were thoroughly finished hogging the goods.
The checkout lines were the worst part. It looked like rush hour on Interstate-10. There were five check stands going full blast, with five or six carts lined up at each one. Tempers were short because of the crowding, the heat, and the constant complaining of the blacks, who can never just buy something and go. They invariably wait until everything is checked out before they decide that there's something wrong with some item they bought and want a refund. This always causes a log-jam.
Checkers hate waiting on blacks. I've been told this repeatedly by pissed off ladies. There was one buck in line who was covered in lint infested dreadlocks, who was deliberately picking on a very large mestizo twice his age. They began exchanging insults and finally threats, and I started grinning openly like a fool. If there's one thing an Aryan loves, it's two muds killing each other. That's why I like boxing. Where else can I watch two bucks beat each other senseless for my entertainment? HAWW!!
Well anyway, they said they'd meet outside to finish the fight, and I prayed I'd get through the line in time to see it. And then it hit me; I knew that buck! He was the same asshole that had caused me trouble a month before in this very same store. I had come very close on that day to breaking his worthless neck. The only thing that stopped me was realizing just in time that he wasn't worth going to jail for. But man, it really was tempting.
Unfortunately I missed the fight, which according to one spectator, only took two hits. When the big Mexican hit the coon, and when the coon hit the ground. Oh well. There'll be a next time. There always is, here in the land of the mud.
As I was leaving I passed a wetback family going in. It consisted of a little brown Mexican that looked like he had just swam over this afternoon (and probably had), his pregnant wife, and six wetlets. I knew beyond a doubt that they were about to load up courtesy of me and you, so I turned to them with rage and said, "Regresso a Mejico, cabrone!" In English, "Go back to Mexico, asshole!" They looked at the big, angry gringo with fear in their eyes. Good. Thieves should be scared.
Then I said to them in English, "What are you going to do to feed all those brats you created on my tab, when we oust this corrupt government and run you thieving bastards back to Mexico at gunpoint?" Their eyes got as big as dinner plates and they looked at each other. It seems the thought had never occurred to them that the gringos would finally wise up and put a stop to the gravy train. I then added, "If I were you, I'd pack my shit and go back while I still could, before the revolt comes. Because once it hits, there's going to be hell to pay for all your thieving." I left them standing there to absorb my words.
I finally got out of that place and gratefully hit the gas. I managed to get about six blocks from the store before a siren came screaming up behind me, passing me like a bullet, but forcing me to pull over to let it pass. Another reliable thing about Welfare Day is the ambulances.
A few months back I talked with a friend of mine that works as an EMT for a local hospital. Over a beer he told me that Welfare Day is their busiest day. That's because it's the day all the parasites get paid. Booze, dope, crack and food all flow like water for about three days. Like spoiled children they'll live it up until the money's gone, then spend the rest of the month doing without and stealing from Whitey to get by.
"Our number one type of emergency is fat welfare hos'." he said. I looked at him with a puzzled expression. "The ho's get so damned fat on all that free food, that fat builds up around the esophagus. This causes it to narrow. Then, when she inhales a piece of fried chicken, which is the blockage of choice, she starts to choke and someone calls us."
I shook my head in disgust as he laughed out loud. "What are some of the other reasons?" I asked.
"Well, there's always a bunch of wetbacks getting stabbed..they just love knives, especially after a few cervesas. And there's the crack overdoses, blacks bustin' a cap in his ass, as they put it, and assorted beatings and domestic mayhem. But the most common call is for fat black hos' that have been pigging out too much."
What a country. If this is civil rights, I can do without it, thank you.
I pulled into a local convenience store to pick up an item I had forgotten to buy. But before I could get inside I was accosted by a big buck with that hungry look in his eyes. Here was a young buck that hadn't yet found his scam yet, and was still preying on whites exclusively. And on Welfare Day they're extremely bad because they see all dey' bros livin' it up, while they aint' got nothin'. This makes them especially aggressive, and robberies skyrocket during this time.
This buck came running up behind me with a bead on my wallet. I saw everything in a flash and turned just as he was about to make a lunge for my back pocket. The startled look on his greedy face was worth a hundred bucks as he skidded to a halt, wide-eyed with surprise and fear. All I said was "GIT!" and he turned and he got. There was nothing he could say. I had caught him, and he was lucky I didn't break his neck, and he knew it.
After you've lived here a while, things like this don't even phase you. It's simply part of enjoying the joys of diversity, here in the land of the mud.
I stood in the dark now in my driveway as I unpacked the car. The air was starting to cool down thanks to a blessedly welcome breeze that had appeared. Suddenly the serenity of it all was shattered by the sound of gunshots a few blocks over. Sounds like the blacks have loaded up on Colt 45 and are now "takin' care o' bidnezz".
I looked up. Yep. Full moon. Figures.
Happy Welfare Day.
-The Lone Haranguer