quote:

I am fully embracing the most vicious, purest evil.... to fight evil.
Someone has to do it. Might as well be me.

73 posted on 6/13/2014 12:45:20 PM by Lazamataz (Early 2009 to 7/21/2013 - RIP my little girl Cathy. You were the best cat ever. You will be missed.)

A literal American Nazi posted:

I will sacrifice my eternal soul, that you might live a better life. I will condemn myself to Hell, and make your world a better place.

Neodymium posted:

I didn't think I'd ever see it, but FReep has gone full Nazi. One of their big-name members is literally advocating genocide, and everyone's replying with "Then you won't go to heaven! You'll be as bad as the liberals!" instead of "What the gently caress, you're a literal goddamn Nazi, get the gently caress out." Did they all rip out their goddamn souls? That's the only way I can explain what I'm looking at.

I don't think even /pol/ and Stormfront explicitly and blatantly promote genocide like Laz just did.

The martyr complex Lazamataz displays there is staggering too:


That reads like something out of a Warhammer 40,000 novel - or a killer's manifesto.

gently caress. Should someone send the FBI a tip over this, or is this monster a non-threat?

protastic posted:

https://tips.fbi.gov

Some poor guy at the FBI is going to be elbows-deep in the poop.

Zeroisanumber posted:

Once again, the FBI won't care unless someone is posting that they're planning to take imminent violent action or taking specific steps to harm another person. Saying that all Latinos should be gassed and that genocide is a necessary evil doesn't rise to that standard.

Neodymium posted:

gently caress. Should someone send the FBI a tip over this, or is this monster a non-threat?

Erghh posted:

Thought some of that sounded familiar.


loving freep.

Go RV! posted:

I sure hope that Satanic statue goes up so that we can see if Lazamataz actually has the balls to try and knock it down like he promised. (He doesn't)

If he does, though, maybe he'll finally get the therapy he desperately needs.

Zeroisanumber posted:

Once again, the FBI won't care unless someone is posting that they're planning to take imminent violent action or taking specific steps to harm another person. Saying that all Latinos should be gassed and that genocide is a necessary evil doesn't rise to that standard.

Fruity Rudy posted:

This reads like someone serious. When someone starts seriously advocating genocide and self sacrifice, it's time for the professionals to step in.

Related Salon story that does an excellent diagnosis of the rising hatred of the angry white male in rural America: http://www.salon.com/2013/11/17/americas_angriest_white_men_up_close_with_racism_rage_and_southern_supremacy/

ReidRansom posted:

As a reminder, he was also the one that vowed to destroy the Baphomet statue in Oklahoma should it go up.

ReidRansom posted:

As a reminder, he was also the one that vowed to destroy the Baphomet statue in Oklahoma should it go up.

A Rambling Vagrant posted:

Isn't he also freep's Resident Brony?

Kro-Bar posted:

That guy is in my state? Ugh, I shouldn't be surprised.

ReidRansom posted:

Dude has problems.

ReidRansom posted:

Yeah, and he wrote that creepy and super specific post about if he were a little girl. Dude has problems.

OP posted:

WASHINGTON – Senate appropriators are moving toward a $1.03 billion spending increase to address the healthcare and shelter needs of thousands of unaccompanied alien children streaming across the nation’s southern border.

The Senate Appropriations Subcommittee on Labor, Health and Human Services and Education approved a spending plan this week that includes an attempt to tackle what lawmakers described as “an emergency situation by any definition.” ...

quote:

To: SeekAndFind
I have a solution. It’s rather final.


57 posted on 6/13/2014 12:43:58 PM by Lazamataz (Early 2009 to 7/21/2013 - RIP my little girl Cathy. You were the best cat ever. You will be missed.)
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Wanamingo posted:

That was him quoting an Onion article.

e: this one

kik2dagroin posted:

gently caress that rear end in a top hat, Jesus Christ.

Fruity Rudy posted:

This reads like someone serious. When someone starts seriously advocating genocide and self sacrifice, it's time for the professionals to step in.

Related Salon story that does an excellent diagnosis of the rising hatred of the angry white male in rural America: http://www.salon.com/2013/11/17/americas_angriest_white_men_up_close_with_racism_rage_and_southern_supremacy/

A Rambling Vagrant posted:

Isn't he also freep's Resident Brony?

Duke Igthorn posted:

I've often wondered how long a Freeper would last in the wild. I know most of them are probably that "angry/crazy/intense" where you just kinda nod and don't turn your back on them as they rant about FEMA camps but what if we brought a Freeper and tried to educate them. How would they respond? (Yes, I know the tone would dictate everything, the tone is law, the tone is God) If they actually stayed around instead of running off could you civilize one of them?
It'd be interesting to read that's for sure.

Duke Igthorn posted:

I've often wondered how long a Freeper would last in the wild. I know most of them are probably that "angry/crazy/intense" where you just kinda nod and don't turn your back on them as they rant about FEMA camps but what if we brought a Freeper and tried to educate them. How would they respond? (Yes, I know the tone would dictate everything, the tone is law, the tone is God) If they actually stayed around instead of running off could you civilize one of them?
It'd be interesting to read that's for sure.

quote:

CNS News ^ | 06/13/2014 | Susan Jones
Posted on 6/13/2014 4:21:44 PM by SeekAndFind

The Attorney General of the United States told a homosexual advocacy group on Tuesday night that the Boy Scouts of America "preserves and perpetuates the worst kind of stereotypes" by refusing to allow homosexuals to serve as Boy Scout troop leaders.

"Today, courageous lesbian, gay, and bisexual individuals routinely put their lives on the line as members of America's armed services," Holder told Lambda Legal Tuesday night. "And if these men and women are fit for military service, then surely they are fit to mentor, to teach, and to serve as role models for the leaders of future generations."

In June 2000, the U.S. Supreme Court, in a 5–4 ruling, said the Boy Scouts had a constitutional right, as a private organization, to exclude homosexuals from leadership positions.

Almost nine years later, President Obama came into office, pledging to repeal the military's "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy. In December 2010, he signed a bill passed by the Democrat-majority Congress repealing the ban on homosexual men and women serving openly in the armed services.

Holder received a warm reception Tuesday night at the Lambda Legal reception, where he promised that the fight for civil rights and "LGBT equality" remains a "top priority," not only for the Justice Department, but "for me personally."

(Excerpt) Read more at cnsnews.com ...

quote:

To: SeekAndFind
They’re fit for neither, you hack!


3 posted on 6/13/2014 4:22:46 PM by Viennacon
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quote:

To: SeekAndFind
It ain’t up to you Eric the Red!

Do these people ever stop talking or thinking about sodomy?


4 posted on 6/13/2014 4:23:02 PM by Obadiah (None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe they are free.)
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quote:

To: SeekAndFind
Little boys can’t defend themselves against rape, douchebag!


6 posted on 6/13/2014 4:25:04 PM by Huskrrrr
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quote:

To: SeekAndFind



8 posted on 6/13/2014 4:26:17 PM by Travis McGee (https://www.enemiesforeignanddomestic.com)
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quote:

To: Obadiah
Legitimizing sodomy in every aspect of daily life is key a wedge to fundamentally transform America.


13 posted on 6/13/2014 4:27:00 PM by TADSLOS (The Event Horizon has come and gone. Buckle up and hang on.)
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quote:

To: SeekAndFind
So, I guess it would be OK for, say, a studly male coach to take 15-16 year old cheerleaders out in the woods alone for a weekend.

You know, so there’s no double standard.


14 posted on 6/13/2014 4:27:18 PM by Jewbacca (The residents of Iroquois territory may not determine whether Jews may live in Jerusalem)
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quote:

To: SeekAndFind
Eric Holder: If Gay Adults Are Fit for Military Service, They Are Fit to Lead Boy Scouts
They are not fit for either.

HOMOSEXUAL, because there's nothing GAY about it.

22 posted on 6/13/2014 4:31:19 PM by JimRed (Excise the cancer before it kills us; feed & water the Tree of Liberty! TERM LIMITS NOW & FOREVER!)
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quote:

To: Amendment10
FR: Never Accept the Premise of Your Opponent’s Argument
Exactly. HOMOSEXUAL, because there's nothing GAY about it.

27 posted on 6/13/2014 4:33:03 PM by JimRed (Excise the cancer before it kills us; feed & water the Tree of Liberty! TERM LIMITS NOW & FOREVER!)
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quote:

To: JimRed
HOMOSEXUAL, because there's nothing GAY about it.
Exactly. As you probably know, there's a liberal campaign on now to eliminate the word "homosexual" from the lexicon, and instead use "gay". Because, these strategists surmise, the word "gay" doesn't invite imagery of what homosexuals do to each other.

Which is exactly why we must ALWAYS use the term 'homosexual' over 'gay'.

32 posted on 6/13/2014 4:37:21 PM by zipper (In Their Heart Of Hearts, Every Democrat Is A Communist.)
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quote:

To: zipper



Link to the full-text Free Republic thread.

38 posted on 6/13/2014 4:41:55 PM by Travis McGee (https://www.enemiesforeignanddomestic.com)
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quote:

Alas, Brave New Babylon

By Matt Bracken

1. THE REGAL INN MOTOR LODGE

I used to be a history teacher at a private Christian school in Louisiana. I was in my mid-thirties then, unmarried and unattached. It was June and I was on a road trip, cruising up Interstate 81 through the northeastern corner of Tennessee in my Maxima. I was going to spend the month in Pennsylvania, hiking another 300 miles of the Appalachian Trail. The trail ran 2,200 miles from Georgia to Maine, and over previous summers I’d hiked it in sections, from south to north. After a school year spent dealing with self-absorbed and often hysterical teenagers, I was looking forward to the wilderness solitude.

Friday afternoon, and I was scanning the radio dial as I passed the towns and cities. The global banking crisis was in the news; the most serious problems were in Europe. Bank runs of some sort. Lucky for Europe, they ran out the clock at the close of business going into the weekend. But by then the financial contagion had spread to New York, and the stock market closed early after some kind of Wall Street emergency fuses had been blown.

Breathy voices warned of another round of dire world economic consequences, by then a familiar tune. Later news updates reported unspecified problems with the American credit card system. Computer networks were having technical problems. Some cell phone service was down. Spillover from Europe, no doubt. Other problems related to the internet, possibly coinciding with a period of high solar flare activity that affected communications satellites. Plain bad luck and Murphy’s Law were frequently cited. There was even some talk of a possible cyber attack, but of course it was pure speculation. China, Russia, Iran: the usual suspects.

Whatever the cause, the main sticking point seemed to be problems in the international currency markets. The day’s interbank trades could not be resolved; there was too much volatility in the Eurozone as some countries hinted at plans to pull out of the euro. Financial experts assured their radio audiences that it would all be straightened out by Monday. “Thank God it’s Friday” was a commonly expressed cliché laughed into radio microphones.

And that was my working knowledge of the unfolding events.

By the time I decided to top off my tank in the northeastern corner of Tennessee, every gas station was taking cash only, with long lines of cars forming. I’d stopped at an ATM before my road trip and had nearly 300 dollars stuffed in my wallet, and I wasn’t worried. I still had a quarter of a tank, so I motored on and a few exits later, just past a cluster of gas stations jammed with vehicles, I pulled into the Regal Inn Motor Lodge and got a room. The Hindu desk clerk was happy to accept cash at below the posted nightly rate.

I figured the credit card situation might be straightened out overnight. I could gas up in the morning after the lines cleared. I was in no hurry; I had all summer. That was my thinking going to bed that night.

Woke up to no power, the TV dead, everything dead that didn’t run on batteries. Anything that depended on the internet, cell service, wireless anything, that was all dead too. My smart phone was brain dead. It could show me some of my old pictures and texts, but it couldn’t make a connection. Same deal in the motel lobby: no power, no wireless connections, no credit cards.

On balance, it wasn’t such a bad location compared to many others places I might have been when the lights went out. I could have been passing through Birmingham or Baltimore. In rural northeastern Tennessee, the typical clients of the Regal Inn were long-haul truckers and families on a budget.

Next door, the Waffle House was still serving food, but only to cash customers. Their emergency generator quickly ran out of fuel. Without electricity, the food in their freezers was defrosting, but their propane tanks still cooked hot. Then the police moved into the restaurant, and the generator was fired up again, presumably with government fuel.

The restaurant was full of cops. Plenty of light inside the big glass windows and plenty of cop cars parked outside made it a safe place. By the third day the new restaurant policy was cops only, and we highway refugees were turned away. Even the parking lot was only for police. A little Alamo, ringed by a wall of police vehicles parked end to end.

The Regal Inn had no generator, but there was still some stale “continental breakfast” food, cereal and muffins, which we shared in a civil manner (the motel staff hadn’t hidden it quickly enough). Tap water was gravity fed from an elevated tank until it ran out. We had all filled our bathtubs with water before then. Many of my fellow stranded travelers wanted to stay, afraid of the chaos being reported in the cities.

Some Knoxville radio stations were still on the air, running on generator power. Their sporadic reports were equal parts confusion, terror, mayhem, and anarchy. Shooting, killing, carjacking, home invasions. Hospitals crying in desperation for help. Some motel guests rushed away, and others stayed, too afraid to move down the interstate.

The motel staff allowed us to stay, on the mutual presumption that our bills would ultimately be paid once the credit card system came back on. Their sole alternative was to demand cash and threaten to evict us, and watch more tenants bolt without paying anything.

Eventually the potable water hoarded in a bathtub runs out, and I soon learned that it runs out much faster if you have entire families, from grannies to infants, living in single motel rooms. When my neighbors begin imploring me, the obvious bachelor, for some extra water for their kids, I knew it was time to move on. Let them have the remaining tub water, and the extra bed and square feet to spread out in. I had other options—they didn’t.

Around then, a U.S. Army Black Hawk helicopter buzzed the motels and gas stations of our service road and dropped leaflets. Our little town was designated a FEMA logistical hub. Even in that Tennessee crossroads town, all of the supermarkets, restaurants, and any other places with food had been looted to the bare shelves by the third day, the police not interfering in the least. Food was not my immediate problem, though. I had camping food hidden in the trunk of my car, a carefully guarded secret. Mountain House freeze-dried entrees, just add water and heat. Protein bars, energy bars, trail mix; enough for a month.

According to the leaflets, each person applying for employment at the FEMA center would be given two weeks’ worth of emergency food rations and water purification tablets. The leaflets meant food and maybe even a paying government job; it was the talk of the motel lobby crowd. The designated FEMA location was about two miles away, in a cluster of big-box stores serving the nearby town.

My car was safest where it was, in front of my door at the motel, so I decided I’d walk over, see the show, and maybe acquire some extra rations. The government was finally swinging into action, the cavalry was arriving. I grabbed my little 8x20 trail binoculars and headed out. Always look before you leap. Optics allow you to look further.

Cresting a rise on the town’s main drag, I could see the crowd ahead of me surging toward a complex with a Walmart across from a strip shopping center. The people were being organized into lines far ahead and below me. I pulled out my little binos for a closer look. I noticed a few metal barricades, the low steel-pipe kind that come in sections and hook together around festivals and concerts. Other dividers were made of orange plastic netting and traffic cones. Some soldiers, either Army or National Guard, were running the operation. I saw lots of police cars, a few Humvees, some military trucks, and a single four-wheeled armored personnel carrier with a machine gun on top.

I sidestepped behind a corner where I could watch out of sight. The local topography gave me a good view a few hundred yards away, down to the Walmart plaza. I didn’t see anybody coming my way carrying bags full of MREs, but I did see the queue lines getting narrower and narrower, being funneled into temporary chain-link fence sections. I couldn’t read the signs or make out the words of the announcements, but I could see that men were being directed to some lines, women with small children to others. The lines went out of sight around the Walmart, but I decided I’d get no closer until I saw happy people returning with bags of food.

A mass of people in one corner surged against a temporary fence and overturned it, ignoring the police and soldiers on the other side, too thinly spread to be a physical deterrent. An echoing loudspeaker called for calm, there was enough for everybody, but everyone had to get into the proper lines—as near as I could make out. From my distant vantage point it was impossible to hear the exact words of the amplified voices, but I could see the crowds stampeding over the barricades in front of the Walmart. Police and military vehicles starting moving. Then the flow of people seemed to be reversing. Shortly two teenagers ran past me, panting, out of breath. One of them said, “They’re taking away everybody’s guns. And there’s no food, just trucks and buses back there.”

A minute later, others ran past, the faster young men mostly, and then I heard gunfire. Just a few pops at first, but after a pause, somebody was blasting away with what sounded like a pistol, and then I heard a burst of machine gun fire. Somebody was firing from the top of the APC, I could see it plainly in my binoculars. But the armored vehicle was surrounded by mobs of agitated people who either didn’t understand the warning or didn’t care. The people continued to surge around the APC, some climbing on top; it looked like they were trying to pull down the machine gunner, half-exposed out of his hatch. The driver must have panicked, and while I watched, that APC plowed right through at least a hundred feet of people like a pickup through a cornfield, leaving a trail of smashed bodies in its wake. The rest began fleeing in panic.

I jogged back to the Regal Inn on side streets and behind businesses and houses, and found my car still intact and untouched. Tossed a few items from my room into it and hauled rear end eastward up my preplanned bugout route deep in the national forest. My fingers were crossed all the way against unexpected roadblocks, either government or ones thrown up by locals. I drove until I ran out of gas, ditched the car, and continued on foot. My pack and gear were prepared for the Appalachian Trail, so I was way ahead of the herd. I was even returning to a section of the Trail I’d hiked a few summers before. Familiar terrain.

And that FEMA and National Guard fiasco was the last I saw of the official United States government. I dove into the forests and have kept within them, or at least kept them on my flank, ever since. What I know I only know from word of mouth, rumor stacked on rumor. The worst rumors came from travelers who claimed to have escaped from the cities. They invariably reported complete social breakdown: anarchy, madness, race war, mass rape, torture, widespread arson, and wholesale murder. Hunger and hatred squared, madness and murder cubed, the blood fevered by fear, desperation, and the long-simmering racial hatred finally boiling over.

The consistent theme that every city survivor repeated was the utter callousness of average, ordinary people. Shoot on sight at the effective range of your weapon became the only rule of engagement. The further away, the better. Before their faces were clear. And within a month, food took on a different meaning—predator and prey within the same species.

The few city folk who found their way to the Appalachian Trail stuck slavishly to the paths marked by trees with painted blaze marks. I avoided the marked trails; they were studded with trolls waiting in ambush for the unwary traveler. The greatest danger in the forests came from hunters and other armed woodsmen, and there were plenty of them out there, especially at the beginning. If you were seen first, you might be shot without ever seeing your killer. Or you might walk into a snare, a deadfall, a tiger pit, or some other kind of trap. One of those hunters had carried a top-grade compound bow before he took a fatal tumble. I found his camouflage-clad skeleton at the bottom of a ravine, his bow hooked on the stub of a pine limb above him as if he’d left it there for me.

I spent the first winter in a little place between Greenville and Asheville, population a couple hundred in a few clusters of homes and roadside businesses spread out over a mile or two of twisting mountain roads. No name, not officially a town. Trailers, cabins, retirement homes. I was welcomed because I’d befriended a pair of brothers on the trails who later vouched for me. They were bugging out to a retired aunt and uncle’s vacation cabin. We were heading in the same direction, away from crowds and up into the mountains. They had a place to stay, maybe, and I had maps and trail skills. Even back in that early time there was strength in numbers: everybody has to sleep sometime.

The locals met at their high school gym and church hall for barter and fellowship. There was whisky and music, warmth and love, despite the fear and hunger. Bluegrass and moonshine gave us hope for the future while breaking our hearts for the pasts we’d all lost. For a while we believed we could outlast the deluge of despair, safe up in the mountains. We’d carry on, we’d rebuild. Bibles and the invaluable Foxfire books would get us through another stretch of hard times in Appalachia. And when wasn’t it hard times there? For a while some local hydroelectric power trickled into that little corner of North Carolina. Some lights burned in our corner of the world until after Christmas the first winter, so we may have had it better than most. Anyway, our last power was cut off by the end of the year.

There was quite a lot of Praise Jesus, but who could be against that after the collapse? A lot of the folks back there were waiting for the Rapture, but I never saw any evidence of it happening. What happened was more like a Rupture with the past as we’d known it. But eventually the madness came even to our little corner of the world. When the ad hoc “town council” voted that cannibalism would not be considered a crime if the body was already dead when found, I took it as my cue to leave for deeper in the mountains. Before that announcement, from what I heard, vigilantes shot or hanged any cannibals they found. Anyway, I left around February, during the hungriest time, and cast my lot deeper into the forest, higher up the mountains.

Little Blackfly posted:

That new Babylon link is seriously pro-click.

quote:

Travis McGee is the internet name of Matthew Bracken, author of four novels about contemporary threats to American freedom and liberty. Matt was born in Baltimore in 1957, and graduated from UVA and UDT/SEAL training in 1979.
Click the book cover to go to his website, https://www.enemiesforeignanddomestic.com. About a hundred pages of each 500+ page novel may be read there.

Little Blackfly posted:

FMguru posted:

Little Blackfly posted: