I was at a local convenience store today visiting a good friend of mine. He's the manager. I'm a privileged character because I sit behind the counter with him and guzzle iced tea while the customers come and go. Today we were talking together when a frigging HORDE of wetbacks came boiling in. Lots and lots of little brown, round, and low to the ground wetlets, all grabbing and man-handling all the bags of chips, candy, and sodas with their grubby, sticky, nasty little nose pickers. There were pre-teens, teens, pregnant females (is there any other kind?), and drunk "Cabrones", all gibbering slurred gutter Spanish and cackling drunkenly as they drug case after case of Corona and Dos Equis to the check stand. After a batch like that leaves we always have to go clean up behind them, putting stuff back on shelves (whatever they didn't open and eat out of, or just steal outright). I even had to pick up a totally empty "hot" Frito bag from the center isle no less. I tell you it's disgusting to have to deal with these animals.

Well, this time, long after this batch had gone and we had cleaned up and were talking again, I noticed a pair of large eyes peering at me from the far corner of an isle. At first I thought a stray dog and snuck in. But when I peered closer I realized it was a tiny, piss-stained wetlet that had been forgotten in the shuffle and left behind. It had been quite a while since the bunch had left, so it was obvious that they had forgotten all about this one. I told George what was there, and he howled in disgust. "What the hell do I do with THAT thing?" I told him, "Hell George, they make so many that they just lost count. If they can't find this one, hell they'll just shrug and have another one." He rolled his eyes and said, "You know Vic, the sad part is you're not far from the truth! These bastards breed like flies!" I tried to get the little rat to come to us so we could corral it because it was running from rack to rack, peering at us like a scared rabbit. I spoke to in Spanish, but it seemed to be way too stupid to understand it's own language. It sure was an ugly little wog.

Finally we cornered it by going down two isles at the same time. But once we got close enough to grab it, it dove like a rat under George's legs and made for the door, it's short little legs working like pistons as it tried to run in soggy pants. It's hard to feel compassion for something that represents such a dark future for your country and race. When and if that thing grows up, it'll be a gangster or dope peddler, or robber, or molester, or murderer. Most are. And it too, will bring another unnamed army of butt-ugly little chocolate wogs into the world to also parasite off of my land and people.

It ran out the door but instead of catching it, we followed it closely. It ran all the way out of the parking lot and into an apartment building near the store. Then it made its way to a certain door and started screaming bloody murder in gutteral sounds. An army of brown faces opened the door and the wog vanished inside. "Why that little turd! It knew how to get home all along!" George growled. He pounded on the door until a female answered. He let her have it. "If you EVER forget one of your brats in my store again, I'm going to call CPS and have all your kids taken away from you! Got that?" She said nothing, just glared at the two gringos, then slammed the door. When we finally got back we discovered the little turd and stuffed it's pockets with candy bars before it lit out. It had come in the to rip us off and it wasn't even three yet! Dammit! No wonder it was having trouble running! It was the very first time in my life that I felt like doing bodily harm to a child. I had to keep reminding myself that it WAS human. I want these sonsofbitches OUT NOW before I go postal and start killing them in droves, cackling insanely as I mow them down like wheat. There's only so much any soul can take. And the more of this crap that happens to me and mine, the madder I get at the greedy, corrupt politicians that have brought this curse down upon us.

After things finally settled back down and we were back to sipping our tea and swapping lies, in came a load of ghetto niggers. We're talking HOS and COONS, folks. Trumpet-nosed, bubbled-lipped, slope-headed porch monkeys with trash and lint hanging in their nappy hair, and niggah hos that are so fat it takes the Jaws of Life to change their panties. And speaking of panties, I'll NEVER forget what one Ho did today inside the store. George and I almost died from apoplexy from laughing so damned hard. We were wiping tears from our eyes as we kept looking at each other and busting up all over again. It was so damned NIGGERRY!

This one really, really faaaat Ho comes waddling in and up to the register. She has a lot of "back" as the niggers call it. You've all seen them. The niggah Hos with an ass that sticks straight out from the small of their back to the point you could rest a plate on her ass cheeks as she walked? Oh yeah. They mean that her back continues on down her ass! LOL! So she got lots o' back! Yazzuh! Well, this Ho walks up an asks George if he has any air fresheners for sale. You know, the kind you hang in your car? George turned and handed her a small rack of them and she ripped off two lemon scented ones and paid for them. Then, on her way out the door she stops, opens them...and stuffs them down her panties! I shit you NOT!!!!!!! We could barely contain ourselves long enough for her to get out of earshot before we both collapsed into heaps of helpless laughter. Between gasps as we both rolled on the floor I said, "Well, it probably IS a hell of a lot longer lasting than a jug of Pristine!" That almost killed George, who started turning blue from a lack of oxygen. We almost laughed ourselves to death! Then George almost kills me back when he says between gasps, "Well, it's probably the only thing she can do! She's way too fat to be able to change her drawers!" And with that we fell out again, rolling helplessly on the floor of the store. What saved us from certain death was the arrival of the bread delivery truck. The driver walked in and looked at us both quizzically as we stood there wiping tears from our eyes and leaning on the counter for support.

There's hardly a dull moment around that store because it's a perfect cross-section of the demographics of the once fine city of San Bernardino that has, over the past ten years turned into a war zone of invaders, liberals, queers, corrupt cops, gangs, and ghetto niggers. Whites are now outnumbered ten-to-one. So the clientele of the store reflects this to a tee.

Another thing we noticed about the coons is what braggarts and hams they are. To them, having a cell phone is still a really big deal. If a buck has one, he's a high roller! He's de man wit' de plan! Yazzuh! They strut and find a million ways to make sure everybody knows they have that phone! What cracks us up is the fact that a lot of them will take out their cell phone and call someone just as they enter the store so they will look impotent and "on de phone" whilst dey doin' biznezz.. Yazzuh!, or just ACT like they have someone on the line and start talking really loud, to the point you can't even talk. Most of the time the damn phone isn't even hooked up. But that's just a minor detail to a chimp. Then when you're trying to do the transaction with them, they act like they are forced to interrupt dey impotent' call to favor you with their attention. It makes you want to just walk up and slap the shit out of those silly-ass coons. What a miserable species... Damn...

On yet another occasion about an hour later, a good-looking white girl comes strutting in and buys some dope rollers. When she leaves the store, two of the blackest, niggery looking bucks you ever saw wrap a lip around a watermelon slice, grab hold of her and escort her off to niggertown. I looked at George, who shook his head in disgust. "She just another white trash slut who sells her ass to those monkeys." I looked at him and growled, "She needs a bullet." He nodded. "You don't know how often I've thought that myself." Like me, George is preparing to leave for the Great Northwest this year to join the ranks of the millions of other whites that are migrating and gathering in preparation of the coming storm. So many whites have left this city this year alone that it's affecting George's business in a negative way. He says sales are down and shoplifting is way up as more whites leave and more muds arrive.

I went to a yard sale today, where a 45-year-old white mother of four was selling everything and heading for Idaho. I told her she wasn't alone and that I was proud of her. She said she had to get her kids out of this cesspool before they got corrupted like the damned liberals were trying so hard to do. She said it's not safe for her daughters to go to school anymore because the niggers and wetbacks are constantly trying to get in their pants or get them stoned, and they're always beating the crap out of her boys because they're white. There was fire in her eyes when she talked about it, and the corrupt leaders that are enabling this disaster. Like me, she thinks they should all be taken out and publicly shot for High Treason as an example to the rest of them. It's no longer a reach to say it could happen either. People are fed up.. REALLY fed up.

Well, I just shared the bad, sad, and funny about an afternoon at George's with you. A cross section of California, and the results of the "joys of diversity". And there's a scary element to it all as well, and that's the fact that it's all true...