In my area of the state..heck, in all areas of the state now, the wetbacks have literally taken over.
One of the telling signs of this are the shops. Where there used to be bright, clean, well kept businesses with signs in English are now filthy, run down little shops with trash blowing out front, graffiti on the windows and walls, and bars everywhere to keep the merchandise in the store during the hours its closed.
When you drive down a city street it now reminds you more of Tijuana than California. The signs are now in Spanish, many hand painted and grossly misspelled, and wetbacks loiter out front in menacing knots, glaring at any gringo that dares to use his own highway. All the windows have bars and burglar tape, and huge storm doors cover the entrances. Graffiti festoons every wall, and tape covers an endless parade of cracked windows where drunken wetbacks and punks have thrown cervesa bottles just to look macho to their sluts.
There is now also a chain of wetback grocery stores dotting the state named "Rio Rancho." Whites call them "Gago Rauncho" because they are. During the summer months the stink in these places is enough to gag a buzzard.
That's because as Mexicans are so well known for, they practice absolutely no sanitation or hygiene of any type...especially in the butcher department. The reek of long rotten meat permeates the air and sticks to all the merchandise, so if you buy something and take it home, that smell will come with you, stinking up your whole kitchen.
They obviously treat their butcher department the same way burrito venders in Tiajauna treat their wares. I told you previously how the burritos in Mexico were so covered in flies that you literally couldn't see the burritos, well, imagine a whole meat department that way.
But the wetbacks that do business in these places don't care, because after all, they live the same way at home. Can you imagine what the bathroom looks like in a wetback hovel with nine wetlets and God only knows how many other aunts, uncles and other assorted members of their never ending "familia" living there? It's enough to make any self respecting Aryan shudder with pure revulsion. They probably have to use a putty trowel to peel their butts off the toilet seat when they're finished. Aaarrgh!!!
Mexican mariachi music blares through the entire store to remind any gringo customers that the wetbacks are here to stay. You'll be trying to talk to a store clerk who answers you in halting, wetback English when suddenly you're interrupted by a really loud "AARRIBAA!!! AAAHAAAAA!"coming from the speakers. It's enough to make your blood boil.
All the store signs and sale signs are in Spanish, and they sell all kinds of South and Central American produce there, such as cactus leaves, mangos, plantains, dried peppers, and a hundred other things that are just about as appetizing as throw rug soup. One thing I can say however, is they have the market cornered of grade A fresh tomatoes at prices American stores can't compete with. That's because they have "arrangements" with the border inspectors to get Mexican grown produce to their stores. No doubt their cousin Pedro. I've never seen such filthy, stinking stores in my life. This is a large chain, mind you, that now covers California.
A friend of mine is a walking stomach and will eat absolutely anything when he gets hungry, even ready-made food from one of these place's "delis." I was with him once when he bought two of their large bean and meat burritos. He plopped down on a bench near the store and began to wolf them down. I'd warned him repeatedly about buying anything from those animals, but true to form he didn't listen to me, only his growling gut.
Well, about half-way through the first burrito he bit into something that didn't taste right. So he stopped in mid-munch to inspect his food. There, staring at him out of the uneaten portion of his burrito was half of the biggest damned cockroach I'd ever seen. His eyes bugged out of his head like one of those cartoon characters, and he threw the burrito as far as he could in a howling fit of disgust. But before I could get in a good "I told you so." he doubled over and ralphed up his entire lunch, breakfast, and the past five meals before that. I silently backed off and took a walk, grinning to myself, allowing him time to go find a stick and scrape his insides clean.
Well, one good thing came of it..the dork stopped eating there..lol. As I said, sanitation isn't a biggie with wetbacks.
The normal person would wonder why the Health Dept. hasn't shut these places down. Actually the answer is simple. Bribes. Almost all their stores are located in liberal controlled sanctuary cities where the city and county governments are run by rabid communists and wetbacks which means all the county and city health inspectors and employees are predominantly wetback as well. A few pesos in cousin Jose's hand and they get a triple A rating. Even if the inspector has to slip in rotting cow blood on his way out.
That wasn't an exaggeration. I wish it were. Every store also has something you don't usually find at white stores...armed guards. That's because Mestizos know their own kind. They know damned well what murderous thieves they all are, and they know that to keep from being robbed and shoplifted out of business, they have to have a lot of protection and deterrents. Because if you so much as blink, your pants will be missing...
Many white stores now have security guards to deter niggers and wetbacks, but only the Mestizo stores have armed ones. That's because their own kind are much more likely to rob each other, just as niggers kill each other more than they kill anyone else. They have one inside the store, and one outside.
This explains why most of their prices..with the exception of produce, are much higher than everyplace else. They have to pay for the cops. But it's either that..or be robbed to death. A hell of a culture, eh? Some of my "racist" friends like to occasionally drop a sheaf of flyers in their parkinglots, warning them to get out of our country while they can, and calling them parasites, invaders and trespassers.
Of course this enrages the local Mestizos, which is the whole idea. A mad wetback is really a scared wetback. And they should be scared. After all..if the whites don't get them, what they've helped do to our economy will..and soon. What are those cockroach people going to do with all those hungry wetlets when whitey's welfare and food stamps run out, and they're forced to drag their spoiled, fat brood back to Mexico?
Talk about the wheel of karma turning full circle.. My heart bleeds purple peanut butter. I have NO sympathy for arrogant, greedy trespassers who come here to deliberately steal food from the mouths of my people, then try to steal the very land they're invading. Death rides on swift hooves.
Out in front of these stores are your usual cast of criminals. Moochers, meth heads, thieves with evil, beady, darting eyes, watching for the door left open or the purse unattended. Niggers saunter lazily across the parkinglot, casing the cars as well, and trash blows by in large drifts like huge, filthy snowflakes, snagging on the undercarriages of parked cars. Mongrel dogs with all their ribs showing are usually digging in the dumpsters..along with today's freshly arrived wetbacks, both looking for a meal. The La Bamba music is piped outside as well, as if to remind whitey they are here to stay. Boy are they in for a rude awakening.
This is what America is fast becoming thanks to Obama, Reid, Pelosi, Boxer, Bush, Kissinger, and every other crooked, evil politician that's served in Washington over the past century. Our people refuse to let their children grow up in the filth ridden hellhole these monsters have created for us all. No matter what it takes, no matter what it costs, we will not bend and we will never surrender.
We will once again have a clean, decent land to call home, and we will create a new constitution from the mistakes of the old, ensuring that evil men never again gain a foothold among our kind. And when the day comes when that store and all the stores like it are smoldering ruins in deserted lots, I'll drink a toast to my race.
-The Lone Haranguer