(I've already posted what was going on in a white grocery store in my area, and now here's a look at the other side of the tracks...)

For A Bottle Of Olive Oil

I walked into a grocery store today that I never go to because I was in a real rush, and it was only two blocks away. A key ingredient for a dish I was making had turned out to be spoiled and the pot was boiling, so to speak. As I reached the front of the store I saw an entire Mexican family cooking homemade tacos right there on the sidewalk. Even the pre-teen girls helped as their horde of smaller brown wetlets constantly tried (and succeeded half the time) to grab food from the table with their nasty little hands. Flies buzzed everywhere, crawling all over the uncovered tacos and their fixings. A couple of still dripping wetbacks were hovering over her, attempting to buy some of her oh-so-appetizing fare. Ignorance is bliss, I guess. As I walked inside I was accosted by a Latina singing one of the worst, most ignorant sounding Mexican peasant songs I'd ever heard. It was blasting across the entire store through speakers mounted on every wall. The music was highly offensive to me, sounding like someone stuffing a cat in a wood chipper. I marveled at how any thinking creature could actually listen to that crap. It was so damn loud you couldn't think.

Inside the place stank and stank badly. It absolutely reeked of blood and half-rotten meat. This odor was coming from their "meat department", where their own native butchers use traditional Mexican techniques (and sanitation methods i.e., none) to prepare meats for sale. I winced as I forced myself to the back and peeked through the small glass window in the butcher's door. What I saw made my gorge rise. The floor was covered in thick, coagulated blood that was slowly oozing toward and down a large floor drain without benefit of water or detergent, filling the sewer system with every disease known to man. Large bluebottle flies were crawling on a half-butchered carcass laying on a filthy, blood soaked table. The back door was slightly ajar, giving access to any and all interested critters. It's no wonder whites get sick wherever these wetbacks land.

The place is famous for cheap meat, though I wouldn't buy here to feed the dog. I pretty well figured that they bought their meat from Mexico at Mexican prices, where sanitation is also non-existent. From the smell of it I'd have to say they also bought "seconds" meat. This is meat that is about to be thrown out for being too old or on the verge of spoiling. It sells really cheap. It was enough to make me a vegetarian.

I turned in disgust and began my search for the virgin olive oil I needed. I'd never shopped here so I had to search the store. There were no signs on the isles in any language because most of these wetbacks were illiterate peasants that couldn't read them anyway. I started near the produce section where I noticed the fare was definitely not American. Plantains of several types were for sale (these are cousins of the banana but stiff and starchy, and must be cooked like a sweet potato), papayas, mangos, and cactus pedals filled the displays (yes, they eat cactus). A good percentage of the other produce was wilted or on its way to spoiling. I searched several other isles and was jostled by literally dozens of little brown wetlets with dirty faces and sticky fingers as they ran screaming by, followed by a squat, ugly mammasita who was obviously pregnant again. I think they're born pregnant. Mexican flags were displayed everywhere with pride. Wetback men glared at me with hostility as I passed, giving me a taste of things to come when there's enough of them here where they can start acting aggressive. It's ok for them to creep into every aspect of our lives, but we had better not come around theirs. I wonder if it would surprise many of you to know that Mexicans are very, very racist and look upon Gringos as dogs? Well, they do. They have half-a-dozen different derogatory terms for us that they use constantly when talking among themselves, terms that make the word "nigger" seem like a compliment. I was clearly made to feel unwelcome.

Most of the men in the store were drunk or getting that way, and a drunk Mexican is worse than a drunk Indian. The reason the government banned alcohol to Indians for so many years was because they are a stupid people. They have a low IQ as a rule (though the Cheyenne and some tribes of Cherokee are bright), and stupid people become dangerous when they drink because booze dumbs you down. And if you're already stupid it turns you into an animal, capable of anything. Mexicans are worse because they have a violent nature on top of being stupid. Give them booze and you have a recipe for murder. They become aggressive and hostile and are totally incapable of being reasoned with. And Mexicans love to drink. Just ask any cop that has to go out every night to arrest a load of them for assault, murder, rape, child beating, wife beating, animal cruelty, drunk driving, etc. I once saw a drunken wetback beat his pet dog to death with a ball bat for the fun of it. He laughed hysterically as he killed it. I walked up behind him and cracked his skull with a board. I doubt he ever knew what hit him. I hope I killed the bastard.

I was astonished to see large "super cases" of beer for sale here, sizes no white store or even liquor store would sell. It took two men to carry one and held at least 200 cans. There were also kegs. As I said, they love booze. I saw another display near the "deli" section, if you can call it that, where they sold hot menudo and hand made burritos. A good friend of mine used to eat those against my strong warnings, until one day he found a huge deep-fried cockroach in his burrito. The idiot finally got the message...

They also had a teller's window inside the store, manned by another Latina. She stood behind bullet-proof glass popping her gum and talking on a cell phone. It's not any bank, just a place where wetbacks can cash their paychecks because most don't have bank accounts. They also pay a hefty fee to the store to send large amounts of our American cash back home to Mexico, siphoning off our wealth like vampires. They can buy Mexican phone cards, stamps, money orders, and pay utilities there as well. And everything costs...

I found the olive oil and headed to the checkstand, fighting through yet another mob of little brown trolls. I was appalled at how many kids I saw just inside this one store. It made me shudder. At the stand I waited behind a couple more fat, pregnant trolls as they took their sweet time checking out. One tried to write a check but the clerk refused it, starting a loud row that had to be settled by the manager, a squat, fat old Mexican in a butcher's apron. Spanish went ninety-miles-an-hour as they argued until the troll was finally ejected from the store without her groceries. I know enough Spanish to know that they were tired of her constantly ripping them off by writing hot checks and had finally bounced her. Figures. One thing that a Mexican hates is a thief...lol. The wetback checker was rude and only understood Spanish. She was obviously a fresh one as well. At the rate they're coming over it won't be long before they own this state. Five years ago there was only one of these wetback stores. Now there are nine all across the city. No niggers shop at any of them because the Mexicans run them out. Instead they go trash whitey's stores . After all, whites are far too cowardly to say anything. That makes us easy pickins'.

I was very glad to finally leave that nasty, stinking pesthole. It was a slice of the Third World and what we can expect in every state in the union soon as they flood deeper and deeper into the U.S.. Even as far away as Oklahoma the locals in one small town chased down and beat with clubs three wetbacks that cruised into town and robbed the local choke n' puke. The bastards are creeping in everywhere. If you see a new wetback family moving into your town, make them welcome the way your grandfather would have. Stomp their faces until they pack and go home. Fear is the only thing these animals understand. Give them some. I do, but I'm part of a small minority of men here. Most are pussies. If there were more like me and my friends we wouldn't have a wetback problem. They'd be too terrified to even look our direction, let alone sneak over here. Well, I gave you a taste of things to come.. I hope you think about it..