Your author, for one, is so happy the computers and mailboxes selected Brandon as the dark state’s puppet-in-chief. At first, I was a little concerned about the whole coup thing. Then, the blatant elder abuse bothered me. But as the Big Guy is and always was as degenerate as they come, so be it; maybe this is his preview of hell. Anyway, I appreciate the comedy value of the entire fake, gay production. He’s also handy for providing the occasional impetus to write about subjects I’d otherwise write off.
Old Joe’s (handler’s) latest cause célèbre? Why, banning all those sick semi-automatic weapons! One has to give it to the demoncrat side of the uniparty - they’re always coming up with something new that they have never, ever thought about, ranted about, or schemed for in the past. Seriously though, the walking greenscreen lab experiment, who has spent all year shipping loads of military weapons to his Nazi friends and his son’s money launderers/drug dealers, wants to take away your Mini-14.
Quoth Lord Snifferous:
Now, before one yells, “let’s go, Brandon! Trump won,” one should consider the “why” behind this latest threat to the few remaining freedoms in Amerika. See, last week, a bird-watching youth jogged into a Wal-Mart. Like Corn Pop, he was a bad dude, real bad dude, and he boosted that 58% statistic the FBI is always quietly publishing. Sick, if extremely predictable. Then, there was the rump-rangering gone wrong in Colorado Springs at an abominable sodomite nest named Club Q.
Remember, the previous “Q” phenomenon was likely a low-effort, but highly effective NCS psy-op designed to hijack the MAGA-ing. The trustworthy MSM invariably, nefariously described it as a conspiracy theory wherein the dark state is beholden to child-molesting satanists who want to destroy America. What better way to make the lies come true than to have the dark state’s primary puppet offer telephone condolences to the owner of the homo club in a run-up to attacking the Second Amendment!
Hold the hysteria for a moment, please. What’s the real story behind Club Q, “Q” as in queer? Surprisingly, it might not be what the media’s been saying. I know, I know. The shooting took place during what was supposed to be an all-ages tranny fest. For the normies, that is where the fags goad retarded parents into bringing in their own children to be groomed or worse. Forget the trannies. That was yesterday. Today it’s pedo normalization and legalization (like Balenciaga!). They’re already getting away with the unthinkable at a staggering pace and volume, and they want to codify the future prospects. Allegedly, this very club was way ahead of the curve regarding the present agenda. (Next comes cannibalism and/or, concerning the kids, acting out the “Lord! eat!” scene from Salammbo).
The stock narrative, which is dead wrong because it’s the stock narrative, is that the fat-boy shooter was a known dangerous headcase who only now claims to be a non-trinary(?) or some other strange shade of the devil’s rainbow to beat hate crimes charges (because that makes so much sense seeing as how he also only faces multiple murder charges). Honestly, as soon as I saw a picture of what's-his-name, my first call was fat, gamma-omega, homo incel, partially cross-bred with a troll. I reasoned that even in the lgbtP scene there must be some losers who can’t even get lucky with freaks who will do anything, and who then lash out violently. As anyone who has spent more than a few weeks around the post-modern criminal justice [SIC] system can attest, almost no group does wanton violence like enraged sodomites. But what if there was something else? There probably is.
One giveaway that we’re dealing with the agents of hell is the symbolism they use. After the shooting, a sign popped up at a memorial that read, “Love over Hate.” That’s code: love, meaning sodomy and thus evil, over hate, the Lord’s feeling about and commandment to us in dealing with evil. Inversion in a simple sign.
Tactically speaking, so far as I can tell, no one has reported seeing or hearing Ray Epps standing on the street just before the incident, screaming, “go in the fag club! IN the fag club!” Sometimes an informant or shadow spook isn’t needed. Sometimes things happen organically. Allegedly - and this is just something I saw on a random interwebbing, and therefore twelve times as plausible as anything from the NYT - allegedly the suddenly-trans-pineapple shooter was groomed and/or raped as a minor by the former, deceased, faggot owner of Club Q. At this point, to me it’s just a rumor. The last sodomite I would ever want to demean or defame is a dead one. Yet this angle has a ring of truth to it. Such a horrible crime would explain the shooter’s descent into his sad present condition. If it is true, and if the shooter knew fag queen grooming hour was about to start, and went in to make sure what happened to him did not happen to any other children, then Mxr. They/Them starts to look like a hero in the mold of Matthew 18:6.
If the rumor is correct, then it makes perfect perverse sense for another groomer to respond by coming for our semi-automatic millstones. If one has noticed that darn near everything in Clown World seems to swirl around perversion, then there’s a reason for that. Sick. If it’s true, then it lends adjacent truth to the Q (qanon[dot]pub - the MSM never once to my knowledge cited the actual forum) misdirections that the SAD boys deployed against the decent Trumpers. The whole episode would appear to corroborate the assertion that satanic canni-pedos are powerful enough to make the FedGov bow and scrape and do things like proposing the end of AR-15s.
Concerning the potential gun grabbin’, even if Old Joe can move it forward, it’s still a murky area because, in the post-political, post-legal age of post-Amerika, laws have ceased to be of determinable importance. As Anacharsis said: “Laws are like spiders' webs, and will, like them, only ensnare and hold the poor and weak, while the rich and powerful will easily break through them.”
I do not doubt that many ‘Murican gun owners, of the “long as it’s legal” brigade, would dutifully surrender their guns if or when commanded. After all, these folks seem happy to put up with anything and everything, with many of them going so far as to poison themselves because a talking rat in a white coat told them they’d otherwise catch a cold. However, at times like this, times of more law and less justice, it may be appropriate for us, the poor and weak, to remind the rich and powerful that weapons confiscation is a two-way street.
The concept has already been on display this year, oddly thanks to the deadhead fake president and his arms shipments to the Ukranazis. It has been estimated that some 70% of the various components never make it, leaving the surviving 30% for MOD target practice. What happens to the bulk of the goods?! Dark state, meet the dark web and the Ukies version of eBay where Uncle Sucker’s toys are sold by the corrupt, meth-addicted goons of the drag queen of Kiev:
Yeah, I know. Thirty-large is a little steep for a single-use popgun that won’t even stop an older 3rd generation tank. Relax. There is a vastly cheaper (free, in fact) option that has been popular for years. I have promised myself that, outside of fictional tales, I will not provide overt information about the practical parameters of underdog armament. I don’t have to, as I can just link to official Army Times MSM stories like THIS ONE. Read that. Know that that was just one out of 1,000s of such cases from the past decade or so. The majority are gang/dope-related inside jobs, and most are unprosecuted(able). If a crackhead can do it, then anyone with a brain can too, so long as the brain fixes burned-out tail lights and so forth. Two-way street, Joe.
Uh, comms established. Play a game. WWG1WGA. These people are sick. [F] before JB. Patriots STAND!
Perrin Lovett is a novelist, author, and small-time meddler. He is a loveable, unobtrusive somewhat-right-wing Christian nationalist residing somewhere in Dixie. The revised second edition of his groundbreaking novel, THE SUBSTITUTE, is available from Shotwell Publishing and Amazon. Find his ramblings at www.perrinlovett.me. Deo Vindice!