For those who wilfully forget
I’ve been agonizing for a couple of days now over how to put this D-Day anniversary post, after seeing this jagged shard of complete idiocy cited approvingly all over the place.

“Europe’s best men, our brothers,” is it, shit for brains? That would be Nazi scum you’re talking about there, pal. And let me hip ya to something you prolly ain’t gonna like much: NAZI SCUM AIN’T NO “BROTHERS” OF MINE, AND AIN’T EVER GONNA BE EITHER, GET ME? Nor are Saudis, nor Persians, nor Paleosimians, nor ChiComs, nor Tojos, for the matter of it. Sorry if my hatred for (((DemJooJooJooJOOOOOOZ!!!))) just ain’t intense enough to suit ya, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles, fuckface. If that’s what it takes to qualify me as officially “White,” then thanks but no thanks; I’d just about as soon call myself a nigger as to stoop that goddamned low.
My now-deceased Uncle Murray, who was an MP in the ETO and participated in the liberation of one of the concentration camps idiots like Mr “CEO of Based” above swear never existed—a life-altering experience he couldn’t even speak of without choking up in tears til his dying day, by the by—was probably the single toughest hombre I ever did know (my assessment made after a lifetime spent hanging with some damned tough hombres, mind) and woulda kicked your sorry ass so hard by the time you stopped rolling your clothes would be out of style for such loose talk as that.
“Are you mad yet?” You bet your ass I am now, you miserable turd. FUCK YOU in the spleen, with a sparking cattle prod.
*spit*














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