excerpt from "What Can Brown Do For You," Why Los Angeles Sucks. Minor edits were made to what follows:
It’s irritating that so many Whites in the former US still don’t get it. I was thinking about this today while accompanying some coworkers on a lunch break. I had brought my lunch with me but decided to tag along when invited to get a bite. I figured I’d just grab an iced tea and watch the floor show at whatever fast-food restaurant my coworkers would choose as the best place to risk exposure to some third world malady.
They decided on Mickey D’s. Great idea! I knew that this was going to be fun. Also, along the way, we had to go into Hollywood to take care of some business. The entire area is a perfect example of all that’s wrong with multiculturalism. Everywhere you turn there’s evidence of the nation-wrecking efficacy of this tool. If you’re aware of these things, that is.
Finally, we enter Mickey D’s and I get in line to pay for my iced tea. Immediately my attention is locked on the lard-assed Latino family farting around at one of the registers. They’re screwing things up because none of them can read the posted menu. The mouth-breather operating the register is also Latino and she moves in slow motion looking from them to the pictures on the menu boards and back asking them what they want in what passes for Spanish among Latrinos. Papa Felipe points at an item and then asks questions about it. The Mezzo at the counter gives an explanation and then Papa Felipe points at something else and asks about it. I guess he’s concerned about the nutritional value of each and every item sold at McDonald’s. If so, that concern started with this very meal because the entire familia, dad, mom, the four cubs, are to put it nicely, pigs. Fatsos. Momma and Papa each weigh over 300 lbs and the cubs are miniature imitations of their parents. I get mad because I know that the lard has been layered on at the expense of White taxpayers, buying these meals thanks to the power of food stamps. The people in line directly behind these self-absorbed dummies look fit to be tied, that is to say they are furious, but no one says anything.
I take a look at the next register and immediately I can see there’s a good chance for some laughs. A loud-talking, fat-assed Black woman, accompanied by another loud-talking, fat-assed Black woman, is one person away from the front of the line. There’s a dull-eyed Latino male in his early 20’s manning the register so a good mix of ingredients are present for an explosion of multicultural goodness as directed by our masters here in the former U-S of A.
One of my coworkers is in the line to my right and he’s made it to the promised land, it’s his turn to step up and spin the Wheel of Diversity. I have to admit that it’s almost fun to watch a fellow coworker enjoy the “Hispanic experience”.
“I’d like a quarter pounder on its own - not the meal, just the sandwich.”
“Ju wan’ the meal? Get a larsh fries…”
“Just the sandwich, a double-cheeseburger, on its own.”
“Ju wan’ the meal for the cheece-burgar?”
“On its own.”
Of course my co-worker is too "enlightened" by liberal propaganda to ever come out of his spell and ask why so many of these people are on the low end of the brainpower spectrum. The oaf at the register was barely listening, spitting out his rote “questions” with very little comprehension of what he was really asking. To him it’s just pictures, words to get people to say something that counts for pick a picture and a register that figures out the money situation. The lack of gray matter is noticeable to almost everyone, but they’ve been programmed to spout media approved knee-jerk excuses whenever it’s brought up:
“They’re learning the language.” They’re not learning it very well. Maybe not at all. In L.A. County 5.1 million people speak English. 3.9 million speak Spanish (10.2 million people live in L.A.County). There are 21 Spanish-speaking radio stations.
“They’re uneducated.” Plainly. So how are they going to learn the language?
“Hey, they’re working. They work hard.” Less than 2% of illegal aliens are picking our crops but 29% are on welfare (source). More than 2 out of every 3 births in Los Angeles County are to illegal alien Mexicans on Medi-Cal, whose births and childhoods were paid for by taxpayers. The cost of immigration to the American taxpayer back in 1997 was a NET - after subtracting taxes immigrants pay - $70 BILLION a year, according to Professor Donald Huddle of Rice University. The lifetime fiscal impact (taxes paid minus services used) for the average adult Mexican immigrant is a NEGATIVE, they cost three times what they put into the system.
Anyway, back to the story; I take a look to the side and see the two, loud-talking, fat-assed Black women are now busy at the register. It's game time.
“You make sure everythin’ is right befo’ you call mah numbah! Ha ha Hell! I hope you unnerstan English. Last time I was heah the girl didn’t unnerstan shit.”
The two women pause. They are busy looking around at the rest of the customers to see if others enjoyed the sassy remark as much as they did. They don't notice the glares of the Mezzos behind the counter. The manager, Latino of course, and several other people working in the back look like they’d like to stab the two Africans. I have little doubt they gave the loud pair's burgers some special treatment. If not, they could take comfort knowing that their people are clearing out all the old Black gang territories near us with tactics that make "Pinochet helicopter rides" look like a day at the amusement park. Everyone knows the Mezzo gangs do not mess around. The women grab their receipt and step away to wait for their food.
Things move along and it’s my turn to order from the Latino dullard at the register. There appears to be a scum over his eyes. There’s no glossy sheen, just something dull, almost like pond scum, giving him the flat, brainless stare of a chicken. Or a shark.
“Large iced tea.”
“HI-C. Hoo-kay.” He starts ringing it up.
“No, I want an iced tea.”
I move closer to make sure he has to raise his head higher to look me in the eye.
“Iced tea.”
I’m looking down at him. Now he gets it. Imagine these idiots with their poor English skills and low-powered noodles in charge of more important things than fast food. You don’t have to imagine here in LA, they’ve already been placed in positions they don’t deserve and can’t handle, just like the Africans here. Exhibit A is the mayor of our fair city, who failed the California State Bar Exam on four separate occasions. On the other hand, I'm also convinced that half the time they do understand and are just screwing around to frustrate Whitey.
I give him the money and he hands me a cup. I watch to make sure he doesn’t put his finger in it etc. I’ve had that happen and I point blank will ask for another cup and tell them not to do that. I also carry hand sanitizer with me. It’s a must when you’re in a third world country like Southern California.
I go to the drink dispensers and fill my iced tea. To my surprise, no new problems arise. I have a seat while waiting for my co-workers and take a look around the place. Five thuggish Latino teens sit at one table, jabbering in a mix of Spanglish and accented English. They’re going on about some “punks” who got their "asses kicked" and how everyone had to “run for it” because the “pinche jura" ("jura" is police in Spanish) showed up (for more, or the unedited article, click here).
It’s irritating that so many Whites in the former US still don’t get it. I was thinking about this today while accompanying some coworkers on a lunch break. I had brought my lunch with me but decided to tag along when invited to get a bite. I figured I’d just grab an iced tea and watch the floor show at whatever fast-food restaurant my coworkers would choose as the best place to risk exposure to some third world malady.They decided on Mickey D’s. Great idea! I knew that this was going to be fun. Also, along the way, we had to go into Hollywood to take care of some business. The entire area is a perfect example of all that’s wrong with multiculturalism. Everywhere you turn there’s evidence of the nation-wrecking efficacy of this tool. If you’re aware of these things, that is.
Finally, we enter Mickey D’s and I get in line to pay for my iced tea. Immediately my attention is locked on the lard-assed Latino family farting around at one of the registers. They’re screwing things up because none of them can read the posted menu. The mouth-breather operating the register is also Latino and she moves in slow motion looking from them to the pictures on the menu boards and back asking them what they want in what passes for Spanish among Latrinos. Papa Felipe points at an item and then asks questions about it. The Mezzo at the counter gives an explanation and then Papa Felipe points at something else and asks about it. I guess he’s concerned about the nutritional value of each and every item sold at McDonald’s. If so, that concern started with this very meal because the entire familia, dad, mom, the four cubs, are to put it nicely, pigs. Fatsos. Momma and Papa each weigh over 300 lbs and the cubs are miniature imitations of their parents. I get mad because I know that the lard has been layered on at the expense of White taxpayers, buying these meals thanks to the power of food stamps. The people in line directly behind these self-absorbed dummies look fit to be tied, that is to say they are furious, but no one says anything.
I take a look at the next register and immediately I can see there’s a good chance for some laughs. A loud-talking, fat-assed Black woman, accompanied by another loud-talking, fat-assed Black woman, is one person away from the front of the line. There’s a dull-eyed Latino male in his early 20’s manning the register so a good mix of ingredients are present for an explosion of multicultural goodness as directed by our masters here in the former U-S of A.
One of my coworkers is in the line to my right and he’s made it to the promised land, it’s his turn to step up and spin the Wheel of Diversity. I have to admit that it’s almost fun to watch a fellow coworker enjoy the “Hispanic experience”.
“I’d like a quarter pounder on its own - not the meal, just the sandwich.”
“Ju wan’ the meal? Get a larsh fries…”
“Just the sandwich, a double-cheeseburger, on its own.”
“Ju wan’ the meal for the cheece-burgar?”
“On its own.”
Of course my co-worker is too "enlightened" by liberal propaganda to ever come out of his spell and ask why so many of these people are on the low end of the brainpower spectrum. The oaf at the register was barely listening, spitting out his rote “questions” with very little comprehension of what he was really asking. To him it’s just pictures, words to get people to say something that counts for pick a picture and a register that figures out the money situation. The lack of gray matter is noticeable to almost everyone, but they’ve been programmed to spout media approved knee-jerk excuses whenever it’s brought up:
“They’re learning the language.” They’re not learning it very well. Maybe not at all. In L.A. County 5.1 million people speak English. 3.9 million speak Spanish (10.2 million people live in L.A.County). There are 21 Spanish-speaking radio stations.
“They’re uneducated.” Plainly. So how are they going to learn the language?
“Hey, they’re working. They work hard.” Less than 2% of illegal aliens are picking our crops but 29% are on welfare (source). More than 2 out of every 3 births in Los Angeles County are to illegal alien Mexicans on Medi-Cal, whose births and childhoods were paid for by taxpayers. The cost of immigration to the American taxpayer back in 1997 was a NET - after subtracting taxes immigrants pay - $70 BILLION a year, according to Professor Donald Huddle of Rice University. The lifetime fiscal impact (taxes paid minus services used) for the average adult Mexican immigrant is a NEGATIVE, they cost three times what they put into the system.
Anyway, back to the story; I take a look to the side and see the two, loud-talking, fat-assed Black women are now busy at the register. It's game time.
“You make sure everythin’ is right befo’ you call mah numbah! Ha ha Hell! I hope you unnerstan English. Last time I was heah the girl didn’t unnerstan shit.”
The two women pause. They are busy looking around at the rest of the customers to see if others enjoyed the sassy remark as much as they did. They don't notice the glares of the Mezzos behind the counter. The manager, Latino of course, and several other people working in the back look like they’d like to stab the two Africans. I have little doubt they gave the loud pair's burgers some special treatment. If not, they could take comfort knowing that their people are clearing out all the old Black gang territories near us with tactics that make "Pinochet helicopter rides" look like a day at the amusement park. Everyone knows the Mezzo gangs do not mess around. The women grab their receipt and step away to wait for their food.
Things move along and it’s my turn to order from the Latino dullard at the register. There appears to be a scum over his eyes. There’s no glossy sheen, just something dull, almost like pond scum, giving him the flat, brainless stare of a chicken. Or a shark.
“Large iced tea.”
“HI-C. Hoo-kay.” He starts ringing it up.
“No, I want an iced tea.”
I move closer to make sure he has to raise his head higher to look me in the eye.
“Iced tea.”
I’m looking down at him. Now he gets it. Imagine these idiots with their poor English skills and low-powered noodles in charge of more important things than fast food. You don’t have to imagine here in LA, they’ve already been placed in positions they don’t deserve and can’t handle, just like the Africans here. Exhibit A is the mayor of our fair city, who failed the California State Bar Exam on four separate occasions. On the other hand, I'm also convinced that half the time they do understand and are just screwing around to frustrate Whitey.
I give him the money and he hands me a cup. I watch to make sure he doesn’t put his finger in it etc. I’ve had that happen and I point blank will ask for another cup and tell them not to do that. I also carry hand sanitizer with me. It’s a must when you’re in a third world country like Southern California.
I go to the drink dispensers and fill my iced tea. To my surprise, no new problems arise. I have a seat while waiting for my co-workers and take a look around the place. Five thuggish Latino teens sit at one table, jabbering in a mix of Spanglish and accented English. They’re going on about some “punks” who got their "asses kicked" and how everyone had to “run for it” because the “pinche jura" ("jura" is police in Spanish) showed up (for more, or the unedited article, click here).
