Thugs in Suits

New England in general is known worldwide as a great center of learning. There are many colleges to choose from, offering all kinds of programs. At one school there is even a professor who tells lies about economics.

The thrust of her rhetoric is that there is only so much wealth to go around, and that laws of economics which nobody truly understands make it impossible for an increasing number of people to have a decent standard of living. Since success has nothing to do with character or conduct, it is therefore a moral imperative for government to redistribute wealth from successful people to unsuccessful people.

She suggests these absurdities in a subtle matter-of-fact way rather than stating them directly. It may well be that this is not contrived subterfuge, but that she actually believes what she is saying to the extent that being more explicit would seem to her like begging the question. The IMF banker endowed colleges seek these airheads, because it’s easier to hire twits than to subvert those who still retain some degree of common sense.

September 3, 2017
The first week of classes, a young man challenges her viewpoints,

“I disagree that there is only so much wealth to go around. History shows that there is unlimited wealth, because there is unlimited technology we can exploit in building wealth. The reason that increasing numbers of people don’t have a good standard of living is because avaricious central bankers manipulate supplies of currency to cause economic upheaval so that they can lend money to government for social relief programs.

“People who have been misdirected to think of themselves as victims, have developed a taste for entitlement and now constitute a permanent underclass whose numbers increase along with drug use and everything else that is destructive to free will and self-determination.”

She listens politely, but is so taken aback that she feels hurt and defeated. With a slight tremor in her voice she says,

“If you feel so strongly, perhaps you should transfer to another class.”

He is sorry for her and says,

“I’m reacting only to measurable realities, not feelings, but I will take your transfer suggestion under advisement.”

He sleeps on it, and the next day transfers to another section of the same course, but taught by a sane mature professor. The only reason he passed over this choice previously was because it’s scheduled a bit late in the day.

Two years later during the winter break, the professor is discovered by her landlord hung in her apartment kitchen. The police are intrigued by incongruities which indicate the presence of another person, but when? Eventually they dismiss the matter as suicide.

Gender Fluidity

September 18, 2017
One day in class, a bright young student challenges this viewpoint, and says,

“Don’t you see what has happened? In the traditional viewpoint, gender is fixed, but gender-specific behavior is variable. The puritanical sissy view is that gender specific behavior is fixed, therefore gender must be variable. At first, this might seem arbitrary, but on closer view, the utility is that it absolves weaklings of responsibility for their actions. This way they can blame their shameful unnatural behavior on random genetic chance, and go on with their depraved, often drug besotted, lifestyles.

There is an indecisive murmur in the room. With good humor, the young man adds,

“It’s time for good people to rise up and initiate a long Season of Killing.”

Throughout this diatribe, the professor has been slowly turning bright red. At this point, a young man sitting with his wife, has a gut feeling about this situation, and turns on a small tape recorder. In the interest of privacy he can always erase the tape later if nothing happens.

Finally the professor is deep scarlet. He begins to stammer, and then shrieks,

“Get out of my class, you Nazi Motherfucker!”

“Please, Sir. Watch your language. I’m a Darwinist Libertarian, not a Nazi, and I wouldn’t presume to have intercourse with your mother. Are we perfectly clear, Sir? Insult me again, and I’ll be forced to seek legal redress.”

Most of the students are dumb struck by this exchange, but the young couple with the tape recorder admire the challenger, and look at each other with a grown-up smirk,

The professor jumps up and mutters,

“I’ll fix you for this, you smart ass...”

and practically runs out of the room. Once outside, he calms down a bit, goes straight to the Student Conduct office, and slanders the student to the director and his secretary.

Student Conduct suspends the thoughtful student, pending a hearing. The young couple read about this in the Student Observer and are appalled by the false accusations. They show up at the hearing and approach the director as amici curiae. The director and defendant are fine with this. The director reads the charges.

The defendant looks dismayed, and says,

“This guy really has the knife out for me simply for expressing truthful viewpoints. This is a university, not a social club just for him and like-minded friends.”

At this point, the two witnesses give a verbatim account of the first part of the exchange. Then the husband offers up the tape recording to cover the rest. The director will listen to it, but reminds the students that the tape can’t be used in a legal action, because there was no consent to record.

When the director hears the tape, he smiles at the defendant,

“You are reinstated. I’ll have a little talk with your professor, but I think you should transfer to another class, and I would recommend a bit less intensity in the way you express yourself. With smart students, professors sometimes get issues about who is teaching the class. I’m reminded of a quotation by Alfred Borth:

‘ Risk-taking is a recipe for success, all within the idealized framework of high purpose and self-abnegation.’ ”

The three students look impressed at the wisdom of this fellow, and are happy to know there are still some good people left in the American colleges.

Word of these events gets around and three months later the professor is found in a roadside ditch with his head bashed in. The smart student didn’t do it, but the police interview him, and he is very glad to be able to say that he was in a long afternoon class at the time when it happened.

Natural Selection

Before the 1960s, because of pressure from religion, schools usually did not teach about evolution at all. Even today the teaching is generally incompetent and misleading.

When the political orientation is socialist, natural selection / survival of the fittest, is treated as though it were some kind of cruel philosophy propounded only by ignorant belligerent people who just don’t understand that depth and sensitivity always go hand in hand with inability to perform.

These are the same fools who want universal income, no grading in the schools, and no spirit of competition in anything. To have it otherwise is simply too cruel. All children are just so special. The mere posture of excellence is so much easier than actual attainment.

A hysterical drug-addicted professor in Wisconsin holds these views and works them into her lectures every place she can without seeming to be grossly off-topic.

October 4, 2017
One day in class, a young women asks,

“How can we expect anything from children unless we ask them to have transcendental ideals towards which they must aspire?”

The professor looks angry and answers,

“I suppose you advocate corporal punishment and child molestation as well.”

The student feels astounded that someone this immature could be a college instructor, but she answers politely,

“If it comes to advocating molestation, I think you need to read a summary of Sharia Law, since you are so adamant about welcoming Islamists to America.”

The professor gets a sick silly look on her face, then lifts her arm in mock salute,

“Sieg Heil”

Students laugh, but only with embarrassed skepticism.

The student doesn’t expect fair play from this ruined individual in future and saves her intelligence for real people.

On a Saturday night, six months later, the professor is raped and kicked to death in her apartment house parking lot by eight Islamic men out for a little action. They consider her a worthless whore for not wearing her hijab.

Devolution

Cro-Magnon Man lived in Northern Europe.

They were large, strong, and very intelligent. The fossil record shows how they performed brain surgery that produced the intended results. With an average IQ of 165, they were a race of Sir Issac Newtons.

Fake science pushes a phony race agenda by claiming that Cro-Magnon were completely extinguished by advancing glaciation, and that Homo Sapiens is descended from the African Homo Erectus.

In actuality, Homo Sapiens is the surviving descendant of Cro-Magnon, but a devolved inferior version: smaller, weaker, with an average IQ of 100, made this way by easy living as the glaciation retreated.

The fake archaeologists want us to believe that humanity does not gain by the elimination of inferiors. In nature when two species compete in the same ecological niche, the inferior is always destroyed by the superior. Only modern day rhetoric, aka tricky talk, would have it otherwise.

At a California university, a well-mannered, decent, drug-free professor is teaching biology. Unfortunately, he has gotten wrong education about archaeology, and is naively passing this on without evil intent. His biggest flaw perhaps is a lack of ability to see the connection between the decay of society, and the lies being taught in schools. He actually believes that there are only superficial differences between highly evolved Europeans and displaced outland savages.

Over the past couple of years, several students have noticed inaccuracies in his lectures, but none have said anything. Archaeology is not the main thrust of a general biology course, so why rock the boat?

November 12, 2017
Late in the day the professor gets on the city bus. At the next stop, three crack heads board, come down the aisle, and sit opposite the professor. One of them has a boom box and turns it up to blast all the passengers into cultural awareness. The professor looks appropriately annoyed, but says nothing,

One of the thugs notices this and says,

“Yo, Muthafuck. You think you better than us jus’ cause you got got fancy clothes and some punk-ass briefcase?”

The professor doesn’t know what to say. It wouldn’t matter anyway. As the bus comes to the next stop, the inquiring thug pulls out his oversize pocket knife and cuts the professors throat. Nobody notices. Now he turns off the boombox. The three savages get off the bus, and head for the neighborhood crack house.

Fake News

In Arizona, a cocaine-addicted professor originally from the mid-west, knows her subject area very well, but is completely ignorant about the ongoing worldwide interaction between international finance capital, subverted politicians, and mainstream media. Her surname is a real jaw breaker with five hyphens, probably reflecting ideas about aristocratic origins. She loves to inject off-topic ideas about “racism” into her otherwise informative lectures.

November 20, 2005
One day she singles out an older man as a likely counterpoint for her Socratic Dialogue in propounding the absurd. He has a healthy sane look that she both envies and hates at the same time. He is in the first row. She looks at him, and asks,

“What do you think about all the racism in America today?”

“Most of it’s fake, the product of self-involved immature people, more interested in seeming to be fashionably liberal minded rather than intellectually accurate.”

She is floored by what she thinks of as this man’s insensitivity and ignorance. She’s speechless and throws herself forward like a limp rag-doll in her chair, her arms dangling down almost to the floor. She maintains this position for many long seconds. There is a deep embarrassed silence among the students. Finally she looks up and says,

“How can you say this? It’s on the TV news every night.”

He replies,

“No, it’s on the fake IMF Banker subverted news every night. Example: A small handful of Nazis show up at a rally in support of a political candidate. The slave media keeps the cameras on them constantly, so that by the time the piece is concluded viewers think that a majority of the supporters were Nazis.

“Even if they were, most of what the average American thinks they know about the Second World War is fake history, just reparations-seeking disinformation. What happened in Germany had nothing to do with race or religion. The Nazis were resisting Jewish Bolshevism. We can’t have that, of course.”

She does the ragdoll routine again, but longer this time. One young man finally asks,

“Professor, are you all right?”

She resumes an upright position and answers,

“Sorry. It takes me a minute or two. I just have trouble dealing with this kind of thing.”

The older man feels embarrassed and sorry to deal with such a ruined person, and says,

“Madame, I defer to your knowlege of films. I think you’re a great professor when you stay on topic, addressing things within the sphere of your experience, but as a Darwinist Libertarian I must say that I think perhaps you are barking up the wrong tree in trying to engage me on this type of subject matter.”

She nods, gives him a nervous wounded smile, and turns the lecture back to films.

The professor learns nothing from this, goes home, and stays very high on cocaine for the rest of the evening with two of her sullen young student admirers.

Falsified History

In America, there are two main historical lies used to conceal Globalist social agenda.

The first lie is that whites were responsible for slavery. Almost all black people in America are descended from slaves. Less than one percent of white people, however, are descended from slave owners.

The second lie is that all whites profited from the institution of slavery. In actuality, the only people who profited from slavery were the plantation owners. Everybody else was hurt because of what slavery did to the price of commodities and the labor market. 

The slavery lies are used to promote phony "social justice" via wealth redistribution. Affirmative Action programs deny education to people of higher intelligence. Colleges have been invaded by loud jazzy showboats who disrupt the study of real students. When good people ask them to please quiet down, they reply with name calling and threats. This goes on especially during the fall semester, before many of them flunk out.

Generically as a people, whites owe absolutely nothing to blacks. If anything, blacks owe whites and native Americans for living parasitically in America since the end of the Civil War. The presence of black people in the USA today, is for indigenous Americans, an unjust racial and cultural encroachment.

December 8, 2017
In New York State, a middle aged college history professor who should know better, makes a false statement in class,

“Even those white people whose families were not involved in the slave trade profited from slavery, rendering them equally liable for reparations to black people now.”

A young man asks,

“Sir, what is your information source about who profited from slavery?”

Faking his way through, the professor says,

“Good question. You know, it was so long ago, I don’t remember. Why? Do you dispute my statement?”

“Yes, sir, I do, on two counts. It’s fairly common knowledge that less than one percent of white people in America today are descended from slave owners, and that everyone but plantation owners were hurt by slavery because of how it impacted crop prices and wages.

“In the earlier period it mainly hurt small farmers within a one-hundred mile radius of slave plantations, but with the rise of railroads, the effect extended further into the North. In the 1850s when the potato famine Irish came to America they were forced into industrial slave wage jobs in northern factories. But for slavery, they could have filled agricultural jobs in the South, for which they were very well qualified as farmers themselves. Whites in America owe blacks absolutely nothing.”

The professor is annoyed, but understandably impressed, and asks.

“May I ask; what is your information source about who was hurt by slavery?”

With a smirk, the young man replies,

“You know, it was so long ago…. actually I picked it up here and there from books and television documentaries. As a debunker of myths used by reparations seeking parasites, facts of this type are the kind of thing I always remember. Your point is well taken, though, I should write down my sources as I encounter relevant new information.”

The processor chuckles in a stained way. He knows that he needs to be more meticulous himself about sources, cannot refute the student’s argument, and replies.

“Yes, you should.”

The student knows he won this round and pursues the matter no further except to add,

“I should probably clarify by mentioning that I’m a Darwinist Libertarian, who knows that human societies, to be workable, must be structured upon natural principles. If any dirty-mouth savage comes knocking at my door looking for reparations, all he’s going to get from me is a bullet between the eyes.”

The professor raises an eyebrow and goes on to a different area of emphasis. That night at home he searches and finds the website,

The Fulfillment of Evolutionary Destiny.

He is drawn in by the approach and mixture of topics. Every night he reads a new section. By the time he finishes, he is a changed man and today considers himself a Libertarian. His lectures reflect this, but he is careful not to make the college administrators overly aware of the change.

Cute Negligee

Religioners have always propounded the idea that being a good person involves laying down for bad people. The subterfuge component is that is that the religioners are often in the enemy camp. We all know the standard cowardly phrases from scripture.

Judge not, lest ye be judged

Turn the other cheek

The meek shall inherit the earth

Different strokes for different folks.

Fighting back is sinking to the enemy’s level.

No borders. No walls. Sovereignty is racism.

This has led to the increase of evil.

From New World Order: Seek and Destroy! ~

“Recognize the true bad guys: rapists, human traffickers, kidnappers, child molesters, child and snuff porn filmmakers, arbitrary murderers, serial killers. These people are irredeemable constitutional psychopaths who have made an unforgivable breech with humanity. For the safety and moral integrity of societies they must be put painlessly to death. Opponents of this should appreciate that one needn't be a rocket scientist to figure out that all it takes to avoid being executed for these terrible things is simply not to do them."

In Connecticut  there is a professor who teaches that all human life is sacred, this without regard for the value or quality of exitance. She wants to keep everything living alive regardless of the impact upon the future.

January 22, 2018
One day in class she puts forth these ideas, concluding with the remark.

“They can’t help it. They were abused as children at home.”

A young chap in the third row says,

“Yes, they can help it, and most of them were not abused at home. What a burden to have become an apologist for evil. I’m sorry to say this professor, but if I ever lose a child to a snuff porn video maker, I’ll see to it that you are hung right along with them. Think of what your last breaths would be like. I support due process of law, but vigilante justice is better than none at all.”

The professor looks horrified at the student’s remarks and replies,

“Hung! Last breathes!”

“Yes, and there is no cold cream known to Man that will get rid of those nasty rope burns when they lay you out.”

Many in the class chuckle.

Two years later the professor is rejected by her lover as a “weak sister.” She is deeply in love and is inconsolable. A week later she buys a cute negligee, a ninety day supply of sleeping pills, goes home, takes a bath, doses herself with perfume, takes all the pills, and gets into bed. Apparently she thinks Prince Charming will wake her up at the last minute with a kiss. He never shows up, and the release of her bladder and bowls completely ruins the aesthetic benefit of the bath and nighty.

The Hangman

Multiculturalism is genocide. It destroys indigenous race and culture. People have a natural right to grow up among their racial kinsmen. A society is not free that forces outlanders on indigenous people.

Race mixing at gunpoint is criminal, especially when done for the enrichment of avaricious bankers who lend money to government for all the special problems that occur in multicultural societies. Their longer term goal is for ruined races to accept one world government and the total economic slavery that will go with it.

Today there are professors who teach that a sovereign nation which enforces its borders is “racist.” Not being racist, is by example, wanting to breed up quick with every outlander you meet just to be fashionably liberal minded sounding at Communist drug parties.

Patriot warriors know that professors who teach fake racism, guilt, and self-hatred are enemies of mankind’s future. If civilization is to survive, traitors supporting the Globalist agenda must at every opportunity available to good people, be put painlessly to death.

Service to evolutionary destiny should never be discussed or reported to anyone. It’s bigger than individuals or interpersonal relationships. One’s victories in the field should be taken to the grave.

February 20, 2018
In Colorado, a professor addresses his class,

“Here’s a roster you can sign to get on a list to demonstrate against closed borders Saturday at 10.00 A.M. You will be provided with snacks and a nutritious lunch.”

A Libertarian warrior / student asks,

“Professor, why do you support the destruction of indigenous peoples?”

The professor looks disgruntled,

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re working for universal sameness. Have you contemplated how tedious life will be in three hundred years when everybody’s the same. Is the destruction of your own race by aiding and abetting the IMF Globalist agenda, really what you want to be remembered for?”

The professor smiles coquettishly,

“Yes, I think one race would be very nice. After all, it’s one planet, isn’t it.”

Three weeks later, as the professor leaves for the day, a big fellow suddenly appears in the parking lot out of nowhere. One hard poke in the nuts turns the professor to jelly. Next he finds a hangman’s noose around his neck. The rope slung over a the bough of a tree, and he is hoisted eight feet off the ground prancing like a dainty ballerina.

At the time of the hanging, the Libertarian student who engaged the professor in class was logged in at the main campus computer lab. This is a moot point, because the police never receive reference to him from anyone. The hangman, a believer in leaderless resistance, is actually a student in the same class who simply kept out of the discussion.

Breed Up Quick

At a college in Texas there is a student organization called Mixed Marriage Now. Their goal is the total elimination of “racism” through the total elimination of race. They want everybody on Earth to look the same with just one: skin color, hair color, eye color.

It never occurs to them that what they are actually doing is engineered genocide. There is, on campus, fortunately, a mature, but not very fashionable Darwinist Libertarian warrior who understands exactly who these people are and the long term consequences of their unnatural goals.

March 12, 2018 10:04 A.M.
In a remote conference room on the third floor of the college library, the breed up quick club is having their weekly meeting of fourteen members seated at a long board of directors type table.

The warrior did his homework yesterday and today reaps the benefits. He comes down the hall, opens the conference room door, uncorks an un-closable poison gas cannister, tosses it into the room, shuts and secures the door with a police lock, then watches the fun for about sixteen seconds as the genetic engineers drop like flies. Mission accomplished. Now he moves briskly out of the area.

Twenty seven minutes pass before the massacre is discovered. For some reason probably connected with endowments, the college decides to hush the incident up as much as possible. This involves college administrators talking to police officials and top people at the local news media.

It works. The story is nearly buried by lack of coverage and vague reportage. The matter is soon forgotten from a media standpoint. Families and friends of the vanquished are scattered everywhere and grieve in privacy.

House on the Hill

Tidings of the recent college reprisals have reached a vigilant college man in Boston, and he is delighted that revolution is underway.

Vick Madison has just turned twenty-one and admires the proposed method outlined by the World Libertarian Order for saving the planet from Globalism. He also believes in leaderless resistance and absolute secrecy relative to political activism, but despairs the extreme limitation of his resources.

April 30, 2018
Synchronicity is afoot in these times. Today Vick comes into a very plump inheritance from the estate of his beloved maternal grandfather. Time to go house hunting.

North of the city, he finds eighteen acres surrounding a very solid brick house with two tall chimneys on a high promontory overlooking the ocean. Unbelievable. There is total privacy and a prevailing off-shore breeze.

The two-car garage opens into a cellar where Vick installs a clean burning gas-fired solid waste incinerator, ducted through the wall up into the ground level chimney just above the kitchen wood stove. What little smoke there is, will be continually drawn out of the chimney by the off-shore breeze. No ancillary roasting smell to spoil the enjoyment of a fine dinner.

Next Vick buys a small high performance station wagon. He tints the windows rearward of the driver seat so that no one can see inside. Then he installs a slide-out platform procured at a junkyard from a wrecked ambulance. It would be too wide except that he removes the hand rails on each side. In a tool box forward of the front passenger seat, he assembles an arsenal adequate to every occasion.

September 4, 2018
Vick buys simple sturdy furniture for the house, has it delivered, then unpacks his few personal items and large collection of books. On the Internet, he finds a nice wooden section tray ideal for a fine collection of finger rings. It fits perfectly into a cupboard drawer in his library. At last, everything is in place.

Now for a little social life. On the Internet, under five assumed names, Vick joins five student political meetup groups, ranging from far left to far right, one for each night of the week. He contributes tidbits to the discussions, but listens intently when anyone speaks about professors apparently subverted to the IMF Globalist agenda. He plans to ask inconspicuous questions, like the name of the course, then later to look up the professor in the college catalog.

Pilos Invitation

October 2, 2018 7:52 P.M.
The Monday group meeting is located in a nearby college classroom. Vick arrives early. He combs his hair down, and gets out of the hearse. It’s a bracing autumn night with a trace of sweet hardwood smoke in the air. As he walks, he slips on some costume glasses and thinks to himself,

“Air pollution is a bad thing. But it works very well aesthetically that a small percentage of people disobey the laws about woodstoves within the city limits.”

He enters the classroom and sits. The group is far-left politically. Vick is very hard to read because of his nondescript dress and grooming, so all the cute girls entering the room give him the same flirty looks they would give to any fellow Communist. This is a good thing. It gives an underpinning of stability to Vick’s adventure.

The group leader arrives, the new member introduces himself, and the discussion proceeds. Within forty-eight minutes, a student mentions the name of a Communist professor as being a supporter of Boris Pilos, the infamous Globalist banker whose currency manipulations have caused destabilization of entire third world countries resulting in the deaths of at least thirty-five-thousand people. The professor has invited Pilos to speak at the university.

The next day, Vick visits the university in light disguise, and without asking anyone, locates the professor who is teaching a class on the second floor of the Government Studies Building. Without being noticed, Vick gets a good look at the fellow, then heads to the student commons for lunch.

A study of class schedules shows Vick the time of the professor’s last class. He locates the professor’s office, and moves the hearse to the portion of the parking lot closest to that building. Then he waits.

Thirty-eight minutes pass. Finally the professor appears and walks towards his car. Vick swings over quickly, stops in front of him, jumps out, smiles, and says,

“Hi Professor Dudley, I have something to contribute to the upcoming engagement with Boris Pilos. It’s in the back. Let me get if.”

As Vick opens the tailgate, the professor looks intrigued, and steps to the rear of the hearse. Vick looks around, shoots the professor in the heart with a suppressed Ruger 22LR caliber pistol, slides out the platform, and loads the poor fellow onto a plastic sheet which folds over making the perfect shroud.

On the way home, Vick is delighted at how smoothly this adventure was executed and warns himself not to become careless through overconfidence.

He backs into the garage. The bullets are infused with coagulant so there is no blood.

He loads the quarry into the incinerator, fires the old girl up, washes his hands, and heads upstirs. After setting his dinner aboil, he goes outdoors to admire the professorial smoke being born out to sea. With a feeling of deep inner tranquility, he thinks,

“A fine tribute to the future in the form of a simple return to nature.”

The incinerator has a platform weight sensor and shuts off automatically when the job is done, but this first time, Vick runs down cellar two hours after dinner just to be sure.

Sharia Servitor

The Wednesday meetup group yields information about a professor of English ancestry who heads a coalition to promote Islamic immigration to Boston. Vick is delighted and does basically the same reconnaissance as last time.

The professor comes along twenty minutes after her last class. She walks briskly to her car which is parked very close to an administration building with three floors of big picture windows only a short distance away. Not so good.

Vick decides to follow her home, hoping for a better opportunity. After eight minutes, she stops at a family restaurant. There is a fast food sandwich shop adjacent, so Vick decides he might as well have dinner. He orders  a roast beef hoagie to go, and eats in the hearse. He finishes just in time to stretch his legs, and throw away the empty bag and trash. Now he follows her back to her apartment house. Nice place, but no security, and it’s already dark.

She parks and walks towards the building. Vick gets out of the hearse, and after she passes, sprints up, throws a garrote around her neck, raises his knee to the small of her back, and pulls back fast, dislocating skull from spine.

“What a sound,”

he thinks,

“Snap, crackle, and pop.”

He hoists her over his shoulder like a sack of laundry, walks briskly to the hearse, loads her, and leaves for home. He fires the incinerator, goes upstairs, takes his usual vitamins, and makes a vanilla protein shake.

When Vick walks outside to view the rising moon, a slight downdraft bears him the fragrance of the Shetland Wool outfit she had been wearing. He shakes his head,

“Such a waste. I wish I could donate their clothing to Hospice, but it would badly increase the risk factor.”

Subhuman Subsidy

The second meeting of the Tuesday group yields up a professor who promulgates the idea that society will be enriched by the deliberate subsidized proliferation of incapable, low I.Q. people. His absurd premise is that more capable people need to learn the humility that only an increased number of less capable people can produce.

Vick can scarcely believe that anyone this disconnected could become a college professor. The college is well to the south of the city, so Vick takes the inner beltway, Route 128. Everything is going smoothly at this point. Where the professor parks gives the needed privacy. Vick whacks him on the back of the head with a cedar tire knocker, loads him, and heads home.

The adventure is still going smoothly, but up ahead, just after the third-to-last exit, Vick sees a routine check point. This is not unusual late on Friday when people start the Happy Hour early on the way home from work. He’s just past the exit, too late to swerve. He pulls over, and backs up fast,

The cops see him. Flashing lights start on one of the cruisers. Vick whizzes backward, takes the exit, drives like hell to the bottom of the ramp, turns, takes the first side street, runs parallel for eight blocks, re-enters the highway, then after two miles, takes his usual exit for home. The cops give chase fully expecting to catch him, so they don’t put out the all-points bulletin soon enough.

Vick feels very shaken, and is glad he chose an all-wheel drive turbo for the hearse. He drives the rest of the way faster than usual, just slow enough not to get stopped for speeding.

He loads the professor quickly, runs upstairs, listens to the police scanner, then breathes a sigh of relief, and prepares a nice dinner of steak and avocado salad. When he goes outside, there is a nice breeze and the incinerator smoke is heading out east as usual. All is well.

The Pusher

The second Thursday group reveals a different kind of target. This chap isn’t a professor, but a creep doctor whose solution to every nuance of student anguish is the mandatory prescription of, uppers, downers, anti- depressants, or tranquilizers. Nothing unethical. He’s just following the Globalist directive of dope ‘em up, so the professors can dumb ‘em down.

Vick’s going to particularly enjoy this one.

The next day, he is just about to shoot the Doctor in the heart from behind. Suddenly the clever fellow whirls around and stabs Vick in the hand with a hypodermic.”

Vick is startled, pulls out the hypo, and asks,

“What is it?”

The doctor replies,

“Special formula. No pain, but your heart will stop in about forty seconds.”

The doctor looks casually at his watch.

Vick points the gun at the doctor’s forehead, raises his voice, and says,

“Now, why don’t I believe you? What is it really?”

The doctor says,

“Just heavy tranquilizer.”

Vick lowers the trajectory and shoots the doctor in the heart. As he puts the poor chap into the hearse, he feels himself slowing down emotionally and getting numb. He thinks,

“All I need to do is stay awake until the good doctor is in the incinerator, then I can sleep this off before I tackle them Buffalo Wings.”

It’s starting to get cold outside. Vick opens the hearse windows for invigorating fresh air, drives home carefully, and just as he thought, doesn’t end up eating dinner until 10:16 P.M.

Hate Speech

At the second Friday group Vick finds out about a sentence imposed recently by a white female judge, also a professor of law at a nearby university. The verdict seems more like what one would expect in London, England or Islamic infested areas of Sweden.

Two young black men raped a thirteen-year-old white girl, then beat her to death with steel pipes. In giving eye witness testimony, the girl’s nineteen-year-old brother used the n-word “niggers” to describe the murderers. The judge was so horrified by this language that she sentenced the brother to three years in prison for “hate speech.” The smirking savages were acquitted for “lack of evidence” and have joyfully raped and murdered three more young white girls since their acquittal.

Over the weekend Vick procures a long baton of steel pipe. On Monday, he catches up to the judge in the university parking lot. Because of her short thick hair, he whacks her where the neck joins the skull.

The next morning Vick parks at a distance and locates the two young black rapists leaving their apartment. He kills them both with one bullet each and leaves them on location. Shootings happen all the time in this neighborhood.

Pine Grove

December 14, 2018
Vick has no classes today. Yesterday he noticed the increasing ash in the incinerator. He has decided to remove it after every eighteenth roasting, but where to put it? Using it as fertilizer in his vegetable garden seems a little too intimate.

Evergreens like phosphate, so Vick takes a walk down to the pine grove. Pine trees are surface feeders. All he needs to do is rake the pine needles off three feet around each tree, spread the ash evenly, then sprinkle the needles back. About forty minutes work each time. He heads up to the house.

The ash is cool and only one quarter fills the wheel barrow. He goes back to the pine grove. Just as he finishes raking up the pine needles, a long haired fourteen-year-old kid in faded denim comes along. Vick holds off spreading the ash just in case there are any teeth, fillings, jewelry, or metal buttons in the mix.

The kid smiles and says,

“Hey man, what’s up?”

Vick says,

“Fireplace ash is good for evergreens. Better to put it here than in a land fill. But, what’s up with you? This is private property. There are lots of nearby parks for hiking.”

The kid says,

“Oh, I’m hunting chipmunks to feed my pet boa-constrictor.”

As he says this, he opens his jacket to reveal a .177 caliber CO-2 BB pistol.

Vick says,

“Very quiet. You must be a good shot to get them with that, but I don’t want you killing my chipmunks, so I have a better solution …

Pointing north he continues,

“The pig farm up by the lake will have rats. They always do, because of the food. Usually the farmer will be delighted to let you hunt in his barn. It saves him time and bullets. I suggest you go over there and ask permission right now, so you can hunt tonight without interrupting him on his lunch hour.

The kid blinks. Vick continues,

“The best way is to break in just after dark with a .22LR caliber automatic rifle, throw on the lights, and shoot as many rats as you can before they scatter. In one night you can feed a legion of big snakes. It’s their natural food. You might even want to get a small freezer so you won’t have to hunt as often. But be very careful of ricochets so you don’t hit the pigs.”

The kid looks elated.

“Wow. That’s cool. Thanks, man. Just for the record, I hadn’t shot any chipmunks yet. I just got the idea yesterday.”

“Thanks for telling me. I feel better..”

says Vick.

The kid leaves, Vick finishes up. He lost time as he talked, but finished the job in forty-six minutes.

Media Mogul

Next semester, a Mid-Eastern media mogul masquerading as one of British ancestry, using the pseudonym, Toliver Darvey, speaks at Vick’s own university. Vick always listens carefully to what others say. In this case, it’s the usual Globalist crap about how wonderful everything will be after the destruction of all indigenous races and culture. Vick thinks,

“Collectivist logic: It’s ignorant and evil to have indigenous peoples compete in a free world market, but it’s wise and good to destroy racial individuality so that all people can be slaves. Half of the audience is riding a fast train to Hell. They actually applaud this hopped-up moron.”

Vick follows Darvey back to his hotel, but the routine house security is much too great. On the way home he thinks,

“The incinerator’s purpose was for me not to leave bodies lying around so that people would increase security, but the task of liberating good people from the Globalists is so great. In future I need to go much larger on the numbers and leave the bodies on location. The revolution is starting. You can’t have it, and hide it, at the same time. I’ll deal with security problems as per each individual situation. And it’s perfect timing putting that bad ash in the pine grove.”

Vick sleeps on these ideas. At breakfast he remembers the patriot in Texas who got rid of fourteen traitors all at once with poison gas.

He thinks,

“That’s what I call pro-active response. I’m only going to target group initiatives from now on. I don’t need meetup groups anymore, just to look at college events websites.”

Vick checks to see if the media mogul will be addressing any small purposeful leftist groups, as opposed to large general audiences that will also have good people in attendance. Perfect. He finds just one engagement. Tomorrow night Darvey will be addressing the local chapter of People Against Liberty, Prosperity, and Peace, P.A.L.P.A.P.

The P.A.L.P.A.P. leadership doesn’t really believe that they are against these things. They chose the name in “ironical defiance” of those who say it about them. They know that the first question any interviewer will ask will always be to explain of the group’s name, and that this will give them perfect set-up to talk against all those bad people who disagree with the indefensible ideology of Totalitarian Socialism, rather than about their own platform, which is very emotional, but without factual substance or logical coherence.

Vick is delighted when he finds out the venue is that cement block maintenance building on campus that was recently converted to inexpensive rental space for group meetings. It’s somewhat removed from other buildings and will probably contain the blast anyway. In observance of Murphy’s Law, Vick will bring three grenades, just in case two are defective.

January 24, 2019 9:12 A.M.
The meeting is well underway. Thirty-nine of the forty-two local P.A.L.P.A.P members are inside with Darvey. In heavy disguise, Vick approaches. There is nobody around. He opens the door, pulls the pin, throws in the grenade, shuts the door and steps to one side quickly. Everyone inside is killed instantly.

Vick is parked a good distance away. He enters a men’s room near his car, loses the disguise, and heads for his favorite Chinese Restaurant where he enjoys roast duck. On the way, he thinks to himself,

“Now, that’s what I call pro-active response. That dude in Texas will probably celebrate with a good dinner himself when he hears about this on the TV news. The joy of leaderless resistance to Globalist tyranny is very great, and I’m just getting started.”