June Twenty-Eight: Stabbed In Sacramento and Now I Post on MPC

I went to the ocean. I climbed a cliff and got screamed at by the Osprey nesting at the top. I picked some mussels off a rock to eat later, slipping off the kelp-covered rocks and getting my shoes wet in the process. I swam in the freezing North Coast water.

I did this instead of going to the White Power rally down the street. All around midtown there were these Antifa signs about “smashing Nazis” and “keeping hate out of OUR CITY.” I tore a few down because I hate Antifa. They’re these punk kids who protested the Roosh meetups. I went and talked with them. There was one dirty guy in his thirties who was on a long spiel about some Communist history stuff that I couldn’t follow. It was clear that he was banging the shaved head girl next to him. Nice. This one fat guy said Roosh was a rapist who wanted rape legalized. “Wasn’t that from a satirical article?” I asked. “If it was satire, do you think we would be here?” Clearly you would because you people are fucking idiots. I’m here trying to empathize and have a dialog and all that bullshit and all I can feel is contempt. Your minds are addled with clickbait; the internet has emotionally manipulated you into standing in this park at night in hopes of virtue signaling against guys trying to get pussy enough to get some pussy for yourselves. Thanks for bumming me a Camel Filter anyway, faggots. I wanted to see the skinheads beat up these aging punk kids but I didn’t and now it’s all over the news because people got stabbed. I decided to throw away my cigarettes and go spend time with my family at the ocean and I missed out on all the violence.

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