Sometimes, people do things that make me shake my head and wonder whether life is worth living. Then there are people who make me realise that not only is genocide a good thing, but there should be fukkloads more of it. Of course, there is bad genocide. And there is good genocide. As an example of the latter, I offer this article.
Do you pieces of Human filth seriously believe that I would want either of my nieces or my nephew going to a school full of unvaccinated darlings who will infect them with who the fukk knows what? Do you think my sister would want that? If that is what you really think because you have swallowed a ton of shit from scaremongers and morons who do not know the first thing about science, then I am putting the word out. I am going to set up a donations box.
And when that donations box is full enough, the sky is really the limit but I will know a good amount, I am going to put the word out. Half of it will go to the person who brings me your heads. All of it will go to the person who brings you to me alive so that I can teach you some manners first.
Oh, I am sorry, did I upset you? Tough fukking shit. A woman is trying to cope with her child having died as a result of your bullshit. You threaten her, insult her, and vilify her in a manner that really does remind me of what Jews must have endured during the 1930s. And all for your conceited belief in utter bullshit that has been repeatedly demonstrated to have no basis in fact. There should be death camps just for people like you, where you are left to die of things that many children have never heard of. It would be justice to sit and watch a closed circuit television signal of you and your filthy ilk dying of typhus, cholera, or a host of other things that modern medicine has reduced to a rarity.
In my prior entry, you may recall that I said a bit about a video rental outlet that I joined and then decided I did not want a bar of. Well, when a business places things in partly-obscured view that solicit donations for autism cure/prevention “charities”, it does a lot more than disappoint a PTSD-suffering Powell type like myself. It robs us of our ability to feel safe in our own home. And I fear that I am going to have to leave this place far sooner than I expected in order to restore that feeling of being “safe” again.
Hence the reason I feel obligated to start trying to find a means to offer a reward for the heads of people who threaten the mothers of deceased children for not spitting their disgusting little minds back at them. If, Odin forbid, one of my nieces or my nephew died, and you told my sister to harden the fukk up, you would be getting a visit from me. Or worse still, their other uncle. Or worse still, both of us. I am sure he would be inclined to stop me from peeling off your skin and pouring salt all over you. Thing is, I doubt he would try after seeing how much rage and hate I would have in my every fibre.
Hence, I make the following proposal not only to the New South Wales government, but also the Federal Government. Track these people down, round them up, and give them to me. Give them to me, and I will do what you should be doing, but do not have the stomach for. Because in a world as overpopulated as this, these people should be seen for the cockroaches that they are.
And stamped on.
