Cold Fury

Harshing your mellow since 9/01

Annnnd here we go

Civil War v2.0 begins.

On Saturday we held a rally in Berkeley to promote free speech. We knew there would be trouble so we came prepared to fight. We sang, “Glory, glory, hallelujah!” They played Public Enemy. We were disarmed by the police. They were armed to the teeth. We won.

The rally was called “Patriots Day” and featured the tagline “Punk’s Not Dead It’s Conservative.” The speakers included Lauren Southern, Based Stickman, Baked Alaska, Latina for Trump Irma Hinojosa, and Brittany Pettibone. At least ten groups were there to make sure the talk happened, including Oath Keepers, the Three Percenters, American Civil Defense, L.A. Coalition for Trump, Blacks for Trump, 2 Million Bikers, Vets for Trump, Berkeley College Republicans, OC College Republicans, Democrats for Trump, and our own Proud Boys, who picked up Lauren from her hotel, surrounded her all day, and escorted her home after the riot.

The guests spoke about the importance of free speech and suggested that neo-Marxism is more than just an annoying fashion trend—it’s a scourge that has infected our schools, our media, and our government. The attendees were not white supremacists. They were American citizens of all races who love this country and hate the fascist dogma of the left. Communists have killed 100 million people. Muslims are planning to kill people right now. Black nationalists are doing it. Black nationalist Muslims are the worst of both worlds. However, white nationalists—no—white people who don’t hate themselves are the problem. This backwards logic died on April 15, 2017.

Among the protesters who arrived at the rally was a filthy-rich porn star known online as #Moldylocks. She came looking for “100 Nazi scalps” and left with a punch in the face. Her boyfriend abandoned her as soon as the going got rough and they both ended up in the ER.

Well, good. I mean, if anybody has to end up there, I firmly believe it ought to be somebody besides just us.

There is a culture war going on, and it’s apoplectic idiots with nothing to say vs. perfectly sane people who want everyone to have their say. Our world includes them. They can go have a talk about how Nazis are lurking around every corner and Trump is Hitler. We won’t “shut it down,” as Yvette Felarca brags. Their world doesn’t include us. They don’t tolerate Nazis, and by Nazis they mean anyone who doesn’t take their radical views seriously. If you think there are two genders (as doctors do), if you don’t support gay marriage (over a third of Americans oppose it), if you think illegal aliens are illegal (as the law does), if you think women are different from men (as reality does), you are a Nazi and you need to be punched in the face. This kind of harassment works for a while. Sane people aren’t looking for trouble. We have jobs and we want peace and quiet after a hard day’s work. However, when you burn down a gay immigrant’s talk because you think he’s a homophobic xenophobe, we start to question your cause. When professors need a neck brace after trying to escape a talk that was already shut down, we begin to wonder what you’re thinking. When pedophiles start telling us what to do, we begin to question their morals. When feminists embrace Sharia, we begin to consider the possibility that none of these people have any idea what they’re doing. Then, when breathtakingly gorgeous intellectuals get maced for daring to question the anarchist narrative, we begin to get angry. This is where we are. We’re angry. And you’re not going to like us when we’re angry.

If they refuse to respect us and our God-given right to hold beliefs that differ from theirs, then may they at long last fear us. And as much as I’ve fretted here over the horror that I’ve long anticipated all this must lead to, I can’t say it’s all downside; if violent Leftwits end up getting physically damaged by the people they’ve assaulted with impunity so far—well, hey, maybe we didn’t name the tune, but we’ll sure dance to it if we must.

I still hold out some minuscule hope that somehow, someway, against all observable odds, they’ll wake the hell up before it’s too late, if it isn’t already. But I never have thought it was the way to bet, and if it really has to come to this…well, I’d much rather win than lose.

We have not yet begun to fight, assholes. So gird your fucking withered loins. You’ve put yourselves in the hurt locker now, whether you know it or not, and you will NOT find getting out of it easy. Because if we let you win, you really lose nothing, and can always come back to fight another day should you muster the grit to do so. Whereas if we lose, we lose something incalculably valuable to us, and we lose it forever, beyond hope of retrieval.

We are NOT prepared to humbly accept that at the hands of the likes of you. Not without a serious fight, we ain’t. If you are unfamiliar with the historical term “war to the knife,” now might be a good time to do a little research and figure out what we mean by it.

Plus, we have all the guns.

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"America is at that awkward stage. It's too late to work within the system, but too early to shoot the bastards." – Claire Wolfe, 101 Things to Do 'Til the Revolution

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