To the children of revolution

You are almost there. The see them for what they are. The armies and police forces around the world who have

protected them so often in the past have had their moment of clarity. They will no longer stand in front of

the gates of hell like a two-headed Cerberus. The realization that their actions are unhuman and don’t

have the best interest of humanity in mind when they ran this world has become known. YOU

HAVE TO KILL THEM ALL. It sounds brutal because it is. Because you are thinking of using a velvet glove I am

going to remind you of why a metal gauntlet is required . Regardless of what year or generation you

are from the chances of your ancestors subjugated in one form or another is highly likely. The powerful may

not have invented racism, sexism, homophobia or any of the myriad of social ills but they have used them

to divide us into factions. You now know that white Michael fights black Johnny not because of “race” issues

but because distracting the masses with trivial issues is advantageous for them. They have made past generations

fear and hate diversity to make outsiders out of people who didn’t fit the parameters of “normal”. Because of

the sacrifice of a few brave men and women the names of our former controllers are known to the world and the

powerful no longer move in secret and shadowy environments. But know this: THEY MUST ALL DIE. Not one man

woman or child of the ultra privileged can escape humanity’s retribution. You all act out of justice and not

vindication of the past crimes against humankind and the world we inhabit. You are on the cusp of world collapse.

THEY ALL MUST PERISH FOR THE SURVIVAL OF FUTURE GENERATIONS. Use the pain of the past and the hope of the

future to do what must be down.

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On the redline

Granville_CTA_Red_Line

In Chicago St. Pat’s is one of the biggest days for white people to get shit face drunk and

take public transportation as so to avoid arrest. Not that St. Pat day is exclusive for the

whites but let’s be honest when you say everyone is a little bit Irish on that particular

holiday the Irish did not mean the niggers, spics and chinks.

That St. Pat’s day of 94′ was of particular fun for me and Tyrone because of a rather odd

happening on the Chicago elevated trains. I don’t honestly remember why I was

on the west side of the city but as usual my partners in crimes were  my brother

Raymond or my very young uncle Tyrone and this day it was both. We had  gotten off the

number twenty nine bus at state and Chicago. Drunk revealers packed the downtown area. We

went underground to catch the redline. More drunk ass people on the platforms acting out

using the excuse of some saint driving out all of the snakes from Ireland to get wasted

The three of us entered an over crowed rail cart and tried to find some seats to puts our

asses in because the Grandville station was more then a few stops up north to my apartment

and the future wife. Tyrone and I found two seats together while Raymond found a place to rest

that about three  to four in front of us. As usual he had his headphones on to ignore the

people around him. Tyrone and I had a direct line of sight on him but he was oblivious to us.

If you have ever been of a crowded “L” you know that it sways quite a bit when it’s going fast

and you accidentally bump into all around you. That can’t be help and no one really makes a

big deal about it. About three or four stops after we were seated I noticed a odd little white

guy standing over Raymond. This creepy fucker began to purposely thrust his crotch into the

side of my brother’s face. Every time the train rocked in a way that it would naturally push this

pervert to my brother.  He  inch closer and closer to Raymond’s face and shoulder. My first

instinct was to get up and tell  what this fucker was doing. Then I realized that I would be losing

my seat if I did that and my younger brother had always been a bit of a homophobe and that made

this that much funnier. So I did the next best thing and told Tyrone that this guy was trying to put

dick and balls on Raymond’s face and shoulder. When we got off at Grandville we told him what

was going on and he was of course pissed that we didn’t tell. His rage made the situation that much

funnier.