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The Omegle Man
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I smoked a cigarette and browsed the news. A story about niggers, written by a nigger, talked about how niggers needed more etc. The needs of a nigger are endless. A nigger on every TV channel. A nigger in every movie. Nothing but nigger music for niggers and those who wish to be niggers. That is almost worse than being a nigger. At least a nigger does not want to be a nigger. A nigger does not want to be a nigger so badly he will kill everyone who is not a nigger just so that he might not be reminded that he is a nigger. I was glad to be alone again in my room, where no nigger had ever been. There are few places like this left in the world. When the nigger was freed the world became the nigger's slave. At night the niggers come out, brave in the absence of light, as if the night were an accomplice to the niggers, lending shadow to the misdeeds of the darkies. Beneath the luminescence of gaudy streetlights the gangs of niggers, in feral nigger packs, would stumble and howl, liquored up on cheap nigger drinks and enthused by the scantily clad negresses. In the day these niggers were more docile. The tumult of the niggers grew tedious and I decided to leave, to walk perhaps to a place where no niggers ever went. To do this I needed to walk down the niggerstained streets and wait in a subway overrun by niggers. Every nigger looked at me as if waiting for me to call them what they, as niggers, knew what I, as not a nigger, knew them to be. Most of the passengers were niggers or niglets. Each nigger stared at the other niggers with the suspicion that infects every nigger due to the violence inherent in each nigger and no one knows what a nigger is capable of more than a nigger. That is why niggers always leer as they do, for niggers assume that everyone has a propensity for violence equal to a nigger's. In the fresh blossoming night air after I had risen from the stench of the niggersoiled subway I felt a peace that can only be known when all niggers are absent. Perhaps this is why niggers are so disgruntled, they never have the chance to leave niggers behind. Perhaps these types of free and fresh nights are not available to niggers who must leer with niggerhate in their niggerheads and niggerhearts all the days of their niggardly lives. But now the streets were clean, vacant of all niggers and the cacophony of niggers. I had come out of that nigger-Gehenna where the golems of the niggerloving kikes waste and writhe. I was lost in the coolness of a midnight devoid of darkies. It was almost ruined, knowing I would have to return to the niggers. Knowing that everywhere else, niggers were muddying everything with their niggerhands and their niggernotions. But for now there was the peace of no niggers.

Religious people and organisations are not noticeably more opposed to Jewish power than anyone else, and that's being charitable.

I didn't know what to be more amazed at: the agility of their tongues or their virtuosity at lying.

If you want to put many low power shots downrange fast, auto shotguns are plenty reliable with a stout load and they have inherent recoil mitigation as a bonus. It's not like Joe Bloggs gives a crap about baton rounds and beanbags, and if you manage to gunk it up during a home invasion you have bigger problems than small arms can solve.

Different story if it was an easy conversion in a pinch.

Replying to 831cb62c...

I fucking love the Holocaust cinematic universe.

A Clockwork Orange but instead of the Ludovico Technique it's a rope.

Always struck me as an odd custom, you get to go home alive or if not the government owns your corpse.

>Pubs are boomer atmosphere mood restaurants

What you're describing there is/was known as a "gastropub".

The best dish on offer in a real boozer is these things, unless you want to play pig hair roulette.

Mine tends to contain ~20% used pube wax and/or bacon fat, which while not traditional does add a certain ambience.

They're not so much words as condensed sentences. As in

>wow did you know the Germans have a word for that tiny feeling of sadness when you realise there's no more pistachios in your mixed nuts? It's dassadnezfeelinkvenzerarnopistaz, truly a wonderful language

The dead enemy ragdolls spaz out when you transition between maps, I don't recall anything getting stuck in objects.

That's the best option. All new games either look like they were released in 2012 or they look like they were released on 2012 by blind idiots, because nothing significant has fucking changed in 10 years.

I'm only surprised it's not exclusively fat niggers. Immersion ruined.

Never mind that, apparently these retards are sitting on 20k real P210s because they're worried if they sell them they'll end up in "enemy hands".

YOU KNOW IT'S SO RETARDED THAT IN THE CURRENT YEAR PLUS EIGHT I CAN BELIEVE IT'S TRUE