Open thank you letter to a good friend

They woke up at 9 am,  breakfast was either a shot of vodka,  or a shot of finnish cognac.

A day that starts like this does not continue in a different way,  by the time I joined them at 5pm, all but the driver were hammered,  including the Shaman.

I join them,  immediately get a drink handed to me.  We proceed to the sauna,  ten men.  Me,  still sober,  driver,  driven into oblivion by the few "catch up with the others"  shots.

A game is played in the sauna.  A full bottle of cognac is passed around,  everyone taking a sip,  after each sip,  steam is put on the sauna.  This is the kind of game that ends in the emergency room.  We were fast,  so it ended with ten guys struggling to fit under two showers,  hearts racing,  skin red,  out of breath. 

I was not sober anymore.  Was at the point where my tongue loosens.

I go outside to get my senses back,  sweating,  breathing,  and heart racing. 

Time passes,  and I am joined with the others.

" So you say OldPlaceToBe is not where we should go to? "

I am about to explain why the best place in town turned into a shithole, which can easily be described by finn-flight from the place when the place started being more vibrant than usual, and that Finns go to a new place, and that for now, the new place is the better choice, when I see the Shaman standing behind the party host, looking directly into my eyes and motioning "NO", with his head.

So, being warned by my friend that a simple observation could be a threat to my wellbeing,

"We go to NewPlaceToBe" was my answer.

In these funny times where it is allowed to shout "Death to the west", but can be dangerous to utter why the locals have stopped going to a bar, a friend like the Shaman, who still has his wits about him after drinking for 16 hours is God sent.

I thank Shaman for this lesson that I needed being taught, and for the warning that potentially saved me grief and even trouble.

Funny times indeed, infinitely more tragic though.

Cuck-okay-ld

Handsome artist came to our table to say to my friend.  Man had charisma. What I write here does not change that.  He was a likely pussy hound.
The chat turned to how he does not see  foreign women when walking.  He was a liberal wondering why westerners don't import as many women as men. And to my surprise, this all came without any influence from me.  I was sitting,  minding the blue sky.
Then of course mention was made that the women the finnish men get married to do not get out to social life. But no mention was made about the imported pavement dwellers who have multiple kids raised by the wife sitting home (many times against her will) ,  fed by the state-fare.  All at the same time that these married pavement dwellers are hunting pussy with the government money that is reaching the earnings of the average working man,  on free time that is uncountable multiples of the working man. 
But this topic I don't enter on a table where I don't know the guy.  So I say some statistics:
Number of foreign wives is similar to number of foreign husbands.
Divorce rate for finnish man finnish woman: 50%
Divorce rate for finnish woman foreign man:n 70%
Divorce rate for foreign woman finnish man: 30%
He is surprised about these numbers and inquires. 
Inquiry and talk goes into behaviour of foreign men,  and that goes into the Latin dances circles. A safe topic.
After talking about how the wives of the Latino men are happily watching their men dance floor luv, grind, French kiss other women,  and say "its in their blood",  and the stories of the back stages (being aware of female sexuality does not stop me from demanding dignity),  the last sentences uttered were:
"I used to go to salsa with my girl,  I have seen this,  but it is okay "
Yea,  it's also okay to raise your child,  whose father is a Julio,  because your girl took that okay to be a bit more tolerant than you may have meant it to be.
Thing is,  a woman entertaining Julios when they are married,  or when she is taken,  is not suddenly going to stop when she decides you and her will raise a baby.
It's okay.
Just as a bull thinks getting his balls roped is okay.
Just like a pig thinks the slaughterhouse is okay.
Ah well,  all is okay.
Screw that.  Mandatory dna testing. It's about time. Anything less has no chance pf posessing a probability of shocking these men's balls back to having a pulse.
I went back to observing the blue sky.

Raus aus dem Euro!

Copenhagen, 3 am

Thanks to the Greek guy getting a jaeger round, ke answering with a rum round, and the Greek girl polishing it all with a round of Baileys, I am pretty Mich past being tipsy.

Standing by some hot dog stand, for the last sin of the night.

Brunette standing behind me, asks me something in danish... I think she was asking about the queue.

"What's that in English?"
"Where are you from?"
"Am German"
"I only know Angela Merkel"
"Ahh, our lesbian president" (she is not a lesbian)
"I don't like her?"
"Now why is that?"

"She does not want to pay for our welfare anymore" she says in her drunken seriousness.
"Was about time we stopped paying for your fucking hot dogs..."

The Finns also need to leave the euro. The euro has no money to lift neither Germany nor Finland, when they slip. By that time all the help given will be forgotten. Time to leave and brace for the collision with reality.

...Fuck you.

If you can't pay for welfare, you are not well fared enough to afford welfare.

Finland is getting there fast, in my opinion, Germany past that point long time ago.

Any cut in welfare will result in a civil war, open or concealed. Causing this is being progressive, saying this is  being racissss or whatever.

A dream reversed

One week London, one week Copenhagen, before that one week rain bringing bad mood, I have not posted on long time.

More posts coming soon, stay tuned.

London.

Saturday morning.

Feet are still hurting from all Tue walking of the previous days, and some assholes made the night through, partying on the street, so sleep has been little.
My face looks like a frog's.

Decide to do the breakfast shopping.

Step out of the house and see the people who are still partying on the street. By now it has turned into a proud conversation.

I am spotted.

Sheila turns towards me, opens her arms, lifts them up, and let's out an "oooh".

I notice.

A very tight, very short, shiny purple mini skirt,

A skirt that is revealing muscular legs, and a well trained cleavage.

" you're a handsome motherfucker", Sheila shouts.

"thanks" I say, not changing my way

High heels,

Bright red lipstick,

"Would you like to have coffee with me?"

Sheila asks.

Sheila was almost my size, without the heels.

"Nope. Thanks for the offer.

Sheila was a man.

Sheila was a big black man.

Nine in the morning, on the way to the shops, I get a coffee offer.

So many times I joked with my friends that if women really were not as different from us as they claim to be, off get three lays on ky way to the shops, and two blowjobs on my way back.

And this was the proof.

Damn wish that was a girl. In a short purple mini skirt, a feminine cleavage, long legs, and red lipstick, in the morning at nine, on the way to buy sausage and bacon...

Alas, that is only a dream.

The most effective bitchblock ever

Summer time, being outside in good weather, recovering inside in bad weather, trying to create during worktime, good stories happening, good memories added to the book of life.

That day I was dead tired. I still went out with some friends. Lesson to self: when tired, sleep.

We were on the dancefloor, me basically cursing at the dj for playing music from the eighties and nineties. Creme de la crap stuff. Then I see her.

Looks like the woman of the lanister midget from game of thrones. Bit shorter, bit cuter, much younger, and definitely more innocent. Missing is the thousand yard stare.

Catch her looking at me. Does not take her eyes away for a time that defines eternity in this land where eye contact is reduced to trying to spot a fast turning head. Even eternity ends. She puts her eyes down. One. Two. Three. Back up.

Then I walk up to her, hi. Hi. Decide to acknowledge her group. Three over the hill chubsters, and one who I will retrospectively name wo-beast. Done. Back to her.

"You make me all red" she says. The girl is blushing. Damn. Cute.

Some words, and I see, from the corner of my eye, a mass moving. Wo-beast here close to the girl says something.

Redcheeks turns to me "You look like David Hasselhof"

Agree, amplify, and mentally note that a bitchblock is being set up. Let first one slide, could be that I do look like the nightrider to wo-beast.

Wo-beasts mass moves again close to Redcheeks, says something to her ear, and Redcheeks asks my age.

Some play there, getting guessed 40, smiling, saying Damn that would've been great,

When I see Wo-beast preparing to say something again, I decide to interjected, cut the bitchblock from its roots.

"I'll have your friend for a few more minutes, you can handle her safety for that time without interrupting us." Is what I got in my head.

Until I turn.

Until I see with my eye what has all the time been in the corner of my eye, what I just glimpsed at in the initial moments.

Words flow back down my throat, bile comes up. My breath gets short, I can smell the putrid acid in ky breath.

Short girl, wider than tall. Arms bigger than mine, short, puffy and layers of fat. Built like an oversized ball with arms protruding. A round face. Even the forehead must have fat as the eyes were deep, way deep in the face.

I can't open my mouth. I am trying to keep ky stomach down.

Had she been a nice human being with copious amounts of fat, this would not be the situation. Overweight people that have humanity in them, decency and dignity in them, I got no problem with. Especially the ones in the gym, in the forest running paths, on the bicycles to work.

But the behavior, the rudeness, the unpleasantry, the smudge look in her face. The happiness in having shat on a possible connection.

Puke.

So I turn back to Redcheeks, manage to get thirty more seconds until fat fucking wo-beast interrupts by holding her hand, pulling her.

I turn, this time a about to say Fuck off, kindly.

Words scare down, bile rises up. Mouth shuts. Revulsion builds up.

So I grab the girls arm, pull her to me.

Wo-beast comes along.

I once again want to say something, but at this moment, looking into those ugly eyes happy with triumph of having fucked up a good situation, into those dark, soulless eyes, I literally feel bile rising to the thought of having to interact with this ugly shit piece of soul that has eaten away its humanity with only filth left behind.

I swallow. I have to do this for Redcheeks.

Nope. Stomach muscles not agreeing. Even the image Redcheeks lying naked and sweaty in my bed cannot stop the volcano rising.

Wo-beast pulls Redcheeks away into the chubster circle with her sausage fingers connected to a ball of palm, making all look like a blown up latex glove.

Could not rescue Redcheeks from that diseased putrid soul. Even now thinking about the evil, ugly, diseased, putrid, rotten soul that I saw in those eyes buried in face fat, my throat tenses.

Had she been a nice person, now I would remember her as one of the pleasant people I met in the night, overweight or not, and wished her luck for her life. But she was not. She chose not to be.

Puke.

Kill that brainwashed sucker inside you

Meeting her for the second time, shy girl, signs of her being good company, knows damn well how to combine sexy and classy, and a damn fine dame.

Venue is too loud, conversation flowing slow, her friend is also being good company, venue change not currently possible, and the dj sucks big time.

No problem, she leans forward to talk with her friend, who has been the total opposite of a cockblock, my hand goes to the shoulder.

First am gentle, then I squeeze. I love to squeeze.

She turns with a pained look in her face,
"Auu"
I reply "Mmmmmmm",
She turns back to her friend, I continue with the shoulder. Then the neck, the I catch the sucker in ky head thinking
"I can ask her to tell me if she wants me to stop"
...WTF...?

She has shown no sign of discomfort except some realized pain, to which she presented her shoulder back to me... WTF is the sucker inside my head doing?He is doing what he has been thought to be doing. Being all sensitive and supporting, and robbing her of future possibilities of sky high pleasure. All in the name of being a good man. Like the project... I silence the sucker;
Move to the neck, caressing and playing with hair.
The wool shirt goes off, exposing bare shoulders and neck.

The sucker, again,
"I can ask her to tell me if she wants me to stop"
Bitchslapped back to silence.

I am squeezing the back of her neckx, slightly pulling her hair, to which she turns to me and looks at me, accusingly, says nothing, and goes back talking to her friend while presenting her neck.

I am enjoying every second of this when the sicker tries to break the silence again,
"I can ask her to tell me if she wants me to stop"
... I stop what I am doing, my hand resting on the warm, welcoming neck, and do a three second battle in ky head.

The brainwashed sucker who now and then decides to show his face, and voice his objections of me doing what I want to do, and what I got to do, and what I should do, is once again buried under six feet of fucker concrete. The sucker zombie now and then manages to surface, but the more you kill him, the easier it gets to kill him later.

With experience you learn that the sucker leaves you unsatisfied, the woman disappointed and unsatisfied;

Killing him softly, every time results in pleasure for you and her.

The brainwashing is so strong that the sucker may be immortal by now, but my balls produce enough fuckers concrete to bury him deep almost every time.

Payer dearly for the few times I listened to the sucker. By lost opportunities, by lost years.

May that be a lesson for you.

There is an enemy inside your head, take the red pill to identify him, use your balls to bury him deep.

Incapacitate in any way possible.

You owe it to yourself and the man starved womanfolk out there.

Ignoring the invasion and the treason that comes with it

Came downtown, alone, because all my friends are working people and they are tired in the eve, once again to observe that half the people in town are vibrants who are in town any time any tine, every day, just hanging around.

I realized that the only way to keep sanity is to ignore. Pretend that space occupied by the vibrant does not exist in the time space continuum. Blank space. Neutral.

This also includes not posting about them, the media or the state.

This includes not writing my post about best game being getting a working people to pay a non working people to hang around and socialize with women, adding to the insult the media people pushing the notion that being a parasite is cool, fucking a parasite is cool. The people wonder why the working people are prejudiced against parasites who hang around 24 7 while the working man goes to bed at ten, earning money so parasites fan be fed.

This includes not writing about the parliaments idiotic decision to allow foreigners' votes to be used to form new political parties when somehow you don't have German, Icelandic, Swedish, English, Indian, Japanese, Chinese immigrants interested in politics because they see a somewhat working system close to the system they came from. The only people who show an interest in politics are the ones from shitholes, who somehow have convinced Tue progressive traitors that Tue west can import some valuable political idea from a place that nobody wants to emigrate into and apparently everybody wants to get out of.

I will not write about the media patting its back, proud that it somehow proved the Finns party's ties with anti Islamists, when the guy the Finns are apparently against are the only ones actively participating in "death to the west" rallies.

I will not write about the vibrants who hang around bus stops all day to talk to women, and even follow them when rejected, paid by the state, nor will I write about guys that are uneducatable, hanging in high class clubs every effing weekend as the state provides them with "disco money", while the working man has to budget his going outs.

That means me not writing about my conversation with another foreigner saying "Dude, the danger is not the Finn. Every time I am out, I am risking a fight with vibrant 1 and vibrant 2... Not yet have I had a problem with a Finn, but these fuckers are itching for a fight.", of course the media portrays this once again as the Finns' fault.

Means I will not write about the middle easterners who intentionally sit across us, shout some obscenities, and try to drill their eyes into mine when they see me ptalking with two middle easterners, or Tue Africans who looked at me as if the would plunge a machete through ky stomach because I was being friendly with an mulatto  art friend of mine. Nor will I write about the hypocrisy that these same groups complain about racism, and Tue throw avid into one of their girls' face when she is seen with a westerner. And as usual, the media portrays the Finns not liking their women copulating with parasites as racists, but ignores the fact that it is these parasites committing honor violence, and blames the Finns' racism for honor violence acted on a vibrant by a vibrant because of the vibrant culture.
I will not write about these stuff, because I cannot solve them, and the whole establishment is in treason against its own people. I need to keep my sanity.

Nor will I write about the vibrant who spent half his time as bartender in some dive bar, and the other half on welfare, driving an Audi Q6 jeep, when the working man has to count every penny when buying a car, nor the vibrant, unemployed, never employed, fathering four children from four women, when the working man has to plan the finances for child, assuming is finds a woman that deems him worthy for spawning non-bastards. Bastards be subsidized by daddy government, non-bastards not. And anyway, it is kind of cool to be the incubator for a half parasite. Oh, so cool.

Nor will I write about the Finnish kid bullied by two pieces of vibrant candy, the video put on YouTube, thousands of views, media... cricket cricket. Oh, yea, full page article on some vibrant bumblebee, dressed like a thug, hoodie, sagging jeans, 100 euro sneakers, complaining about the funny looks he gets.

Nor will I write about the people with patents to their names having to renew visas every year, while unicorns full time employed as welfare recipients for years no end get permanent visas... And we got an economic crisis? No shit.

Not even going into the assault, and rape statistics, because numbers be racissss. Not into every fight I witnessed involving a vibrant, usually as the first puncher. Nope. Light that reflects us what is in front of us, be racissss. Oh, forgot. Will not write about two vibrants gangraping a 15 year old girl, and getting one year probation. The media, instead of this, reports that the police is monitoring the net for racissss comments about this event. Any comment I will write about this will be racissss, as it is impossible as a decent human being to write anything else. Oh, wait again. Does Tue media report the Facebook and forum comments by vibrants that "The bitch deserved it". Of course not. Because the vibrants can not hold any racissss thoughts now can they? Vibrants' hate smells of humanist flowers. Then, maybe, just maybe, the media thinks that sex is a right for vibrants and the bitch deserved it because she did not want to service some angelic vibrants. Ok, I admit, there will be a post about the vibrants' and only vibrants' right to getting sexed.

I will not mention the street I avoid because of a community center that thinks the street belongs to that one centre's community, and looking at passer bys, until they pass by, always in multiple pairs of eyes. Yea, media cherishes this as the safety of the community, which means the non-safety of everybody else.

There were some more things I will not be writing about, but memory tricks me.
I will though, write about the educated, working class  middle easterner girls calling other vibrants street dogs, and not stopping there.

Now, multiculti shitheads traitors, you can't call a vibrant racist, can you?

Fucking insane dogs is what you are.