‘What in the actual f$&k are you doing whitey!’

This is our white guy issue of LEO right? We’re gonna be talking all about crackers today? OK, aye, I mean if white man Keith Stone wants to keep this busted up, dump of a city disgusted, disturbed, disenchanted, disenfranchised, disappointed, distressed, depressed and devastated right through whatever holiday you are obligated to drop cash for in December by having a white trash, higher-learnin’-lackin’, former janitor and Burt Reynolds enthusiast bring you up to speed with what my, uh, white brethren, have been doing out here in the wild of day… well then, let’s roll.

You got us dead bang. We white dudes are robustly and absofuckinlutely terrible. We have all things awful on lockdown and trademarked and then some, from bump-stocks to Truck Nutz to fluorescent-green T-shirts. From the people who brought you Donald Trump and Alex Jones comes Steve Bannon, one of the most terrifying creatures to have ever crawled from out of the muck! Kevin Spacey is one of ours as are the tiki-torch carrying, khaki-loving neo-Nazis milling around this country polluting and corrupting everything they touch with their bygone nonsense.

White turds raised by white turds, generation after generation — we literally walked off the Mayflower with murder on our minds and conquering in our hearts. If it’s horrendous, we manufactured it, we willed it into existence… Why anyone tolerates us at all is beyond me! We stole the blues from black Americans and made heavy metal — like, thanks for nothing, Hound Dog Taylor: Here’s human puke sack-and-smulch-master Eric Clapton, whom we’re going to label as “god” because that’s how hard we fuckin suck at life! You know Howlin’ Wolf is standing in the void somewhere looking at racist murderer and beloved rocker Varg Vikernes shaking his head in complete anguish, muttering to himself: “What in the actual fuck are you doing whitey!”

Women give us life, and in return we give them Roman Polanski, at best, and lifelong abomination Edmund Kemper at our utmost wretched. If every woman just began Tasing and macing every man on sight unseen, I wouldn’t blame’em one bit… I’ll take that L!

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Our lives are absurdity writ large, like a naked barbarian airbrushed on the hood of a Monte Carlo with expired tags. Our noted atrocities are wrapped around the Earth to the point of strangulation. From the White House to your Uncle Terry’s pontoon boat, there isn’t a decent idea floating among us. It’s all sexual assault and the Confederate flag — gut the poor and slip more figures to the rich! Nightmares of Roy Moore running through a shopping mall wearing nothing but a gun holster and a cowboy hat, as he prays to a loathsome Lord to smite the Sodomites… white America on the rampage, a rampage that has been sailing along since the first peckerwood declared himself king of all he sees!

So as far as this reckoning goes, keep that train rolling fast and steady.

They marched Charlie Rose behind the barn like an old horse and put him down, click-clack, pop-pop, one in his chest and one in his brain, and that’s how you gotta handle it, because if you let’em slide, there’s no stomping’em out. Woody Allen has just dropped his 48th film and 49 is already in the works. This rotten ass dude is gonna be sending us wack melodramas from beyond the grave, all because baby boomers were totally cool with the idea of a grown man dating a teenager. They couldn’t applaud “Manhattan” hard enough — broke their damn hands cheering on that celluloid campaign of creep! Charlie fuckin Rose man, with his “All that and all that matters” catch phrase. Well all that fuckin matters now it that you stay the fuck out of our collective faces! Vamoose! Your finished!

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