Sighinide

I wrote the preceding screed during my lunch hour at work today, before Obama made his speech. It looks like someone has been reading my twitter. Especially those infamous tweets I made during my 2012 coup attempt.

I hope that my warnings are finally sinking in, and the US establishment is turning over a new leaf. Will there be changes to our immigration policy? Will more attention FINALLY be put where it belongs- Main Street? I hope so, but given the government’s track record during my lifetime, I’m not holding my breath.

Every once in awhile, I wish that my coup had been successful. In retrospect, it was presumptuous to launch it when I did… but I was angry. Oh well. At least I scared people.

Obama is an idiot.

Whatever kind of Hell-on-Earth he is trying to create will fail, and it will likely fail epically, burying him and his ideas forever.

Modern history’s best tyrants- Hitler, Lenin, Roosevelt, Kim Il-Sung, Mao, etc., plainly understood the need for the support of the conservative working class. That is why all of them made such overtures to their conservative working publics.

These men- all of whom were smarter and more worldly than Obama- realized that dictatorship is impossible without the explicit support of the country’s largest demographic. A tyranny of Jewish con artists, lay abouts and irritated minorities, like the one Obama is trying to create, would be a fragile thing, vulnerable to internal chaos, frustrated outbursts from the majority (!) and foreign takeovers.

Bah, this whole thing is just so embarrassing to watch. If I didn’t hate Obama so much, I might actually feel sorry for the poor dolt.

It is one thing to create a successful dictatorship and have it destroyed in war by outside forces, like Hitler did. Hitler’s rule was short lived, but his very successful regime died on the battlefield with honor, which is why his memory inspires so much emotion even today.

It is another thing to cobble together a dictatorship so ineptly that is simply falls apart on its own, which is what we’re seeing with Obama today.

Nobody will remember Obama as a great man 100 years from now. He will be thought of as an incompetent fool, and his failures will forever taint Black Americans as a race of ignorant children.

If the morons controlling Obama had any sense in their heads, they would fire him and install me as dictator. But they wouldn’t want that, as I might actually be effective.

The tickets were worth the price.

And then some.

Taylor re-opened the door, and seeing me still standing in the hallway, waved me in. “Well?” She asked.

I rushed over to her. She was still standing inside the door, and, before she could step back, I kissed her. Hard. On the lips. Years of pent up passion exploded between us.

“I luvethhh yewwwwww” I mumbled, my lips wrestling with hers. It was her. It was really her! I felt so warm. I loved how my arms fit around her, and how her lips fit perfectly in mine.

She pulled away from me and gasped for air. “HUUHHH!” she exclaimed, as if relieved to be alive.

“Wow Tom, it really is you. I thought it was you but I didn’t want to dream that…” She looked away. It was her turn to be humble.

“Ssssshhhh.” I put my finger on her lips. “You’ve said enough. What matters is that we’re together, and, for the moment, nothing will tear us apart.”

“I love you, too. God, you look even more handsome in person. And your hair really is as fluffy and fine as I thought it was.”

“Thanks. You look amazing, too.” Mouthing the words, I was surprised. My violent kissing had rubbed some of her makeup onto me. I could taste lipstick on my words. My right cheek felt powdery and smooth. Onstage, she was a doll. Here, she was a becoming a woman.

“Take me, but do it quick.” She said. “I need to leave, and I don’t want anyone to know that you’re here with me. We’re not supposed to be doing this.” The smudged and wet makeup on her face had started to run. It looked a little… blue.

“I know. I don’t want my sister to know about us.”

Before I finished the sentence, her clothes were off with a few perfectly executed motions. “Wow”, I registered. Must be all the years of quick costume changes. And then… “WOW.” When I realized what my virgin eyes were looking at, my heart started beating through my chest like a drum.

I had to calm myself. I collected my thoughts and looked at her. She wasn’t flawless, like she was in the small, carefully selected handful of pictures that I use to fantasize with. Even through her stage makeup, I could see small creases and wrinkles, like any girl has in her mid-twenties. She had birthmarks, and acne scars, and I could tell that she wasn’t the genius that I fantasized her as being. But even so, she seemed even more perfect than the fantasy. She was real.

I took her. I took her as a real, living woman.

She was soft. I will never forget what she felt like the first time I brushed her legs with my hand. She was pillowy yet firmly feminine. We kissed each other again. This time it wasn’t as forceful, but it felt smoother and more fulfilling.

Our blue eyes locked as we leered at each other. I was much taller than her, which made me rare and exciting. My intensity and physical presence overwhelmed her.

I kissed her succulent breasts, and subsumed her right nipple into my mouth.

“OOOOOOHHHH” she moaned, in a more seductive exclamation of her exasperated cry in the hallway.

I could smell her, and she could smell me. Our scents intermingled into an explosive alchemy.

I was about to penetrate her when our phones rang, simultaneously, with our separate ringtones creating a terrible cacophony that jarred us both from our senses.

“FUCK!!” She exclaimed, as she silenced her phone.

I grabbed my phone, knowing that it was my sister. “Hi Chris, I, uh, got lost after I got the program when I tried to find a washroom. Then I, um, got lost again when I tried to find the parking lot. I’ll be right out. Bye!” I turned the phone off.

“That was your sister… she’s waiting for you, isn’t she? Should we be doing this?”

I penetrated her. Hard. Over and over again. She was taken by surprise and taken aback at my ferocity. Her eyes rolled back as she moaned and writhed uncontrollably. I could see a blue aura surrounding us both as I reamed her. Her legs felt so smooth against mine.

I came. Thrice.

On my third orgasm, I could feel her body convulse and orgasmically explode. She shuddered and shook as she released. “AAAAHHHHH OOOOOOOHHHHHH UUUUUHHHHHHAAAAA!!!!!” her voice ejaculated.

We were spent. I rolled off of her and lay beside her. We both gasped for air. For 3 minutes, we did nothing but breathe.

“That was fun.” I said.

“Yeah. Wow.”

“Are you going to write a song about this?”

She looked over, annoyed and incredulous. “Yeah, sure.” Then she smiled. “I love how you care about me.”

I hugged her, and she started to cry. Her already super smudged makeup became a rainbow of colors. Her makeup that I was wearing became blue.

I didn’t know what to say. I loved her and didn’t want to see her like this. Was this a mistake? I almost started to cry myself before I realized that that wasn’t what she needed.

I hugged her tighter. “Don’t worry, everything happens for a reason.” I cooed. I kissed her cheek. “No matter what happens, we’ll be together.”

“You know that we’re never going to see each other again.” She sobbed.

“You’re probably right, but you never know for sure.”

She stopped crying and kissed me on the cheek, turning her lips blue.

We got up and got dressed.

“I love you.” She said. “Here.” She handed me her guitar pick from tonight’s performance. “I know how you love to collect things, so…” She started to tear up.

I needed to be strong for her. I took the pick and put my finger on her lips. “Sssssssshhh. Thanks, Taylor. I’ll see you later tonight, OK?”

She smiled. “OK! See you later tonight. Thanks for the fun evening.”

“You too! I meant it when I said that you were amazing on stage, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

I turned to leave. As I walked out, I heard her say one last thing.

“Tom… “ she said. “You should wipe your face off. You don’t want your sister seeing you looking all blue.”

“Don’t worry, Taylor.” I smiled. “She won’t.”

I wish that they would think a little more before they speak. They’ve embarrassed themselves terribly twice this year. The first was with all of that “gun control” nonsense, and the second is when they fell on their faces after supporting the prosecution against Zimmerman.

I repeatedly warned them with my twitter what would happen if they didn’t think carefully and consider other points of view before wading into racially charged waters. I even made it a point to warn them publicly to ensure that this lesson would sink in. They *still* didn’t listen.

Oh well, what can I expect? They grew up with silver spoons in their mouths. These things are inevitable.

I’ll deal with it- I need to look whenever I see Kendall in shorts- but I really hope that they’ve learned their lesson this time.

I feel the call of the Void- that endless, eternal empire of death that lies just beyond the reach of every great necromancer. And when the Void calls, I will listen.

The Void has cookies.

My vacation was fun. It’s always nice to see family, especially in such a laid back environment. I’m glad that my grandmother is doing so well. She’s in her 90’s now, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at her, and she had no problem maintaining her house while hosting a week-long family get together. She’s a very impressive woman. I hope that I have that much vitality when I’m 93.

What I loved the most was the chance to relax and unwind. I didn’t look at a single website throughout the whole vacation. What freedom!

The relaxation gave me time to think. I thought about myself and my family. I thought about my future, and the futures of my girlfriends and of those back home, and occasionally, the futures of those in that quiet little farming town in Iowa. It’s the latter group that is the most important. They are the ones that will ultimately decide the fate of the “New America” that is being inaugurated by our ruling class.

No matter how many times I make the trek to Iowa, there’s inevitably a culture shock when transitioning from a Chicago suburb to a small Iowan village. The differences aren’t substantial, considering that both areas are majority white, but the small differences that exist in so many things can make visiting a curious experience.

This year, I focused on examining one thing- that most interesting and important of all topics- the condition of the area’s working class white males.

As a visitor, I didn’t see anything shocking. Everything looked the same as it had for the last couple of decades, with some minor changes. The first change I noticed was the open anger against immigration.

It seems as though the common rage over the US’s immigration policies has soaked in even in rural Iowa. It was odd hearing people publicly complain about immigration in a town that is 100% white, but there it was. This was a good confirmation of what I had suspected, which is that opposition to immigration is extremely entrenched and widespread. Now, even communities with no illegals feel personally threatened when politicians talk about things like amnesty.

The second thing I noticed was a more subconscious defiance against the left-liberal establishment. For example, it was a common sight to see young men, and especially little boys, walking around fully camouflaged as if they were heading off to hunt or go to war. The message here seems to be one of almost- open hostility against gun control advocates. The camouflage trend was so common that even my parents, who not looking for this, saw it and remarked about it.

This slight hostility even permeates the local newspapers. It was interesting to contrast the local newspapers with what my dad reads in the Chicago Tribune. One obituary, in particular, caught my eye; it was about a recently deceased local man who had become a German-American cultural icon. The paper said that he had become a “patriotic” American when he decided to enlist in the military and devote himself to the preservation of German- American culture. The implication being, of course, that only conservatives and whites can be patriotic. It was surprising to read.

This undercurrent of hostility may have grown because of Obama’s controversial visit to the town awhile back, which happened while he was out stumping on the campaign trail. In this little village, people are still talking about it.

One morning, diners in one of the village’s restaurants were stunned when Obama and a cohort of armed secret service agents barged in and immediately started threatening everyone and barking out orders. They were hungry, you see, and they needed food *NOW* so Obama could make his scheduled speech.

After scaring the hell out of everyone in the room, the secret service agents made it clear that nobody was allowed to enter or exit the restaurant while Obama was present. No phones or computers were to be used for any reason, and no customers were allowed to move from their seats, period- or there would be consequences.

The secret service agents / thugs weren’t kidding, either. One of my Grandmother’s friends happened to be there, and after waiting for 45 patient minutes, she became forgetful and got up to leave. The agents yelled at her and ordered her to sit down or else.

The whole production was openly, brazenly hostile to the locals. Make no mistake, the government regards these people as enemies. I wonder- does Obama and his secret service act like this when he eats with Hollywood types or Facebook executives? Somehow I doubt it.

Where is all of this leading? If the anger over immigration boils over, if the economy takes another nosedive, if some psycho redneck “lone wolf” gets lucky somehow, if the epidemic of black on white crime gets even worse- who knows what could happen.

But… I digress. The weather was nice. It was hot and sunny, and the cool breeze off the Mississippi felt great on the skin.

I’m glad I went.

Excellent. My attempts at getting traffic to this site failed. I’ve been watching the visitor logs whenever I post something, and not even a racy story about Taylor Swift gets attention.

Well done, Tom.

I’ll make sure to keep this site hidden from search engines. You can never be too sure.

Somebody set up us the bomb.

I’m back from vacation- rested, rejuvenated, and ready to kick some ass!

YEEEEEhhhhhhaaaaaaaaa!

*Does triple lutz*.

I’m going on vacation this week. I’m going to Iowa again, to visit my Grandmother.

I really do love rural Iowa. I’m sure that such a sentiment would seem odd to my girlfriends, who thrive in a highly upper class environment. But it makes sense to me.

There’s real luxury in being able to be alone somewhere where people don’t know you. It gives you a kind of peace that no antique trinket can give.

To be able to be alone- with your thoughts and nothing else- helps you clear your mind and focus. Where I’m going, there’s no need to worry about anything.

I hope that my girlfriends have such places… but I doubt it. Fame like the kind that Swifty and Hathaway have is a monster that follows you everywhere (or, at least, that’s how I would perceive it).

Perhaps the isolation that I look forward to would be a punishment for them. It takes all kinds.

P.S. This is reason # 5629 why immigration into the US needs to be stopped. Why is it mandated that we must encounter bizarre and violent people everywhere we go? Whatever happened to allowing decent people to have sanctuaries, where they can be free to be themselves?