Too Hateful to Handle: Celebrating Two Months of Unamusement Park
Mar 22nd, 2011 by Unamused
Today the Internet’s #1 source for racial blasphemy and incitement to genocide turns two months old. You can’t see it from where you’re sitting, but I just set off three thousand fireworks —
— in the general direction of a black orphanage.
Hooray!
Sadly, one of those months was February, the shortest and therefore gayest month. Why do you think we let black people have it? Twenty-eight days of black history is enough, thank you. And don’t even get me started on leap years. Last time I swear they tried to come up with a new civil rights hero to fill in the extra day. Her name was Posa Rarks and she refused to sit on the back of a tandem bicycle.
I feel somewhat like a cat who’s just had his birthday cake confiscated. The only thing that could make me feel better would be a picture of exactly that, but where would I possibly —
ALL BETTER!
I feel for you, birthday lol-cat. I really do.
Birth of a blog: the first two glorious months: a retrospective
Let us now commemorate this monumental event in the history of race relations — bigger than I have a dream; bigger than the Emancipation Proclamation; bigger even than the first time someone said: “Hey, you know what would be great? If black people did our jobs for free.” Here are some of the good times we’ve shared and fond memories we’ve made together, you ungrateful shitheads.
- Welcome to the Politics of Equality. It’s not science, and it’s ruining everybody’s shit.
- Savage beating, torture, rape, and murder — or, as the black defendant puts it, “rough fantasy sex.”
- I hear there’s a bunch of crazies living in caves, sticking bombs in their underwear in between jerking off to 72 wide-eyed, non-menstruating virgins. Oh yeah, and they want to take over the world.
- If my mother were starving, I would care enough to do something about it. If her mother were starving, I would still do something about it, but I’d complain a lot and make her feel guilty. If my mother’s cat were starving, I’d be all over that situation — shit would get done.
- Your horoscope: while pondering a Zen koan, you will become disoriented and aroused, and fall down an open manhole. On the way down, your engorged member will ensnare a ripe strawberry, which will taste unusually good.
- Turns out there’s no reproductive advantage to getting mad about a little girl-on-girl action. God bless you, science.
- If I were a racist, I wouldn’t stand here debating with you. I’d just call you a “nigger-lover” and get on with my day.
- Fighting the national epidemic of rabid woodchucks mauling picnickers.
- This conversation doesn’t end with me saying “and so you see, that’s why Hitler was so cool.” I don’t get my statistics from a little-known appendix to The Turner Diaries.
- A black woman has been convicted of tampering with records, for doing nothing more than tampering with records? It’s the next Posa Rarks!
- Your emotional response to an idea tells us nothing about that idea’s validity — unless of course the idea was that people never get offended by ideas.
- Yes, yes. Your awed silence and slack-jawed dribbling are quite appropriate for the magnitude of my genius.
- The NBA is obviously discriminating against Asians, who as everyone knows are just as athletically gifted as — oh, wait. It sounds incredibly stupid when I put it that way.
- Fanatical anti-white bigot Tim Wise makes his first (but sadly not last) appearance.
- “Oh Unamused, you sexy devil. I bet you’re just trying to steal all the mayonnaise sandwiches in the world and seal them up in a giant climate-controlled mayonnaise sandwich vault under Lake Michigan where no one can get at them.”
- White people are smart, responsible, polite, peaceful, and law abiding, beautiful, inventive, artistic, and nice to all the other races! Why not be nice back?
- People are like noodles: they both stick together, they both taste delicious, and they’re both racist.
- Happy Valentine’s Day! Go fuck your hot cousin!
- I’m such a sucker for French girls and their je ne sais quoi’s and their voulez-vous couchez avec moi’s and their penchant pour les blowjobs.
- Sluts and players, feminists and faggots, shrieking harpies and supplicating eunuchs. Oh, my!
- If you want to really cash in on the diversity sweepstakes, you should say your child is a black/black/black/gay/crippled/black hermaphrodite. Kid’s gonna get teased some, though.
- The “logic” of gun control would make Aristotle weep. Apparently, soooo many criminals are using guns against defenseless victims that we, uh — we can’t allow citizens to carry guns.
- Unamusement Park is your source for all things French, including hot girls, typical and ordinary girls, hot “fuks,” sexy “grels,” women’s faces, traditional dresses, ethnic heritage, and of course… boobs.
- “I demanded to be transferred at once to an exotic particle physics research facility in a cooler climate where I would not be subjected to a continuous barrage of monsoons, tidal waves, sunstroke, tropical skin diseases, and the incursions of those abominable monkeys.” (Not Japan.)
- Maybe whites won’t need that race war after all! Awwwwww. Now I’m a sad panda bear — the least racist of all bears!
- Tonight: poor, helpless racial minorities and the good, liberal whites who fuck them.
- A rather unfortunate catastrophic total failure of the reactor’s containment shields. (Not Japan.)
- Bullshit nonsense gibberish like “critical race theory” and “critical white studies” are now considered legitimate fields of research.
- It’s all pointless. Everything is pointless. Fuck it. [kills self]
- Isn’t it time the Crusaders Against Racism left their ziggurats and wrenched open some poor woman’s mouth to see if it’s full of racism?
- We support your right to rainbows and sunshine and kittens, and ice cream for dinner every day!
- Bowling, speed skating, and the luge: it’s a black and white showdown!
- Your unique environment includes getting in a freak zeppelin accident after winning the lottery.
- “It’ll lick the salt from my cerebral cortex! Dangle my genitals for Christmas decorations!” (Possibly Japan…)
- Today’s race-conscious African-American male seeks to overcome historical barriers to inter-racial unions, as well as discriminatory female consent practices.
- Minorities are our friends with special benefits.
- If you are a black person arguing for the cognitive superiority of your race, it helps your case if you (a) support your claim with scientific data and coherent argumentation, rather than a plagiarized compilation of remarks by 2,000-year-old architects and 1,300-year-old grammarians; and (b) are capable of spelling three-syllable words correctly.
- I’m too hateful for your blog, too hateful for your blog, your blog’s going to leave me./I’m too hateful for my shirt, too hateful for my shirt, so hateful it hurts. (Don’t watch this.)
What glorious months they were! The dizzying highs! The terrifying lows! The creamy middles! The overuse of punctuation! Especially! Exclamation! Marks!
Who was I arguing with then?
Unamusement Park would not be possible — actually, it would be possible, but a whole lot less fun for me, if not for the generous contributions of random Internet losers, who have donated their ignorant, inconsistent, idiotic opinions to fuel my white-hot white rage and give me something to make fun of when I can’t think of anything substantial to write. Which is nearly always.
On this day, these men shall be honored for their generosity in the only truly appropriate way: by first insulting, then ignoring them.
By popular demand: a gratuitous French girl
What do you think, gratuitous French girl? Please, share with us your thoughts on Unamusement Park’s two-month anniversary, or as I like to call it, “International Call-a-Random-Black-Person-’Nigger’ Day.”
Very gratuitous and extremely French.
“Je pense que — oh, I am so sorry. En Anglais, oui? I believe zat zere is nothing sexier zan a man who can rebut a socioeconomic theory of race differences in intelligence. I would love to give him several hours of — er, you do not have zis word in your language. It is a special secret French sexy thing zat is taught to all our sexiest young girls. It is to regular sex what regular sex is to hammering nails into your face. I will particularly enjoy zis because Unamused has such a huge —”
Alright, thank you, that’s plenty.
“But I was just about to tell zem about your enormous —”
THANK YOU, gratuitous French girl. You can go now.
“But… you promised me a croissant. May I please have my croissant now?”
We close on the gentle sounds of a gratuitous French girl nibbling happily on her delicious croissant.
I’m wagering this is Roissy. Anyway.
Listen, this blog is the open conversation about race. The one we can’t have in reality. With anyone. I have black friends, too, and they have a sense of where I’m coming from. Let’s just say we are friends very much in spite of my stubborn racial realism. And 999 out of every 1,000 whites I meet aren’t much better.
So this little moment of freedom we’re enjoying at the intersection of Internet and Race Realism is fleeting. It will end when the welfare payouts cease and the dark masses rage into suburbia, or when the Clintonistas finally figure out how to dispatch Agents straight through our cable hookups, or a mixture of both.
At that stage freedom will hinge on the ability of whites to hold on bodily against their enemies and attackers. We think of them as hateful and hypocritical now, but I think that’s naive an hopeful, given the direction in which events are likely to lead.
This is all quite effective and correct and brilliant, as far as it goes. Which isn’t any further than the light of my computer screen when my boss isn’t looking.
I didn’t take in much of that post as I was too blown away by the really, really, ridiculously good looking French girl.
In fact, that is probably the most beautiful person I’ve seen (outside of Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday maybe).
Hahaha no, not quite Roissy. But I am a fan of his. Did not copy his layout tho.
So… I agree with everything you said. We gotta figure out how to take this beyond the computer screen and mobilize against the radical left’s whiny, self-righteous, moralizing thugs, before it gets to that point.
I completely understand Kiwiguy. That is, after all, a gratuitous French girl’s purpose. Don’t worry, you didn’t miss much.
I’m with Kiwiguy on this one. Congrats on your two-month anniversary!
We gotta mobilize? Christ.
Whenever I read or hear that anymore I imagine a mangled smelly bug-eyed bum running out of the woods up to me, scratching himself feverishly.
“We gotta mobilize!”
And then he runs off.
Actually a guy like that would have more utility for me.
You can wreck pretty lies all day on your blog. The insinuation that this leads anywhere, or that you or “we” might lead, or that you have your finger on the pulse of our leadership–this might be a big shitty lie in itself.
Sorry. I’ve just read a lot of books and articles. And I’m still an isolated individual living among dummies and cowards. And . . . I bought a shotgun. So, uh, I’ve got a shotgun now. So that’s where I am with it.
So… nothing leads anywhere, no one can lead it there, and certainly no one can understand the whims of “our” established, shadowy leadership. We should all just shut down our stupid blogs and wait for the “dark masses” and “Agents” to destroy us.
Whenever I read or hear that, I imagine a defeatist who sees himself as smarter than everyone else because he alone is clever enough to see that there are no solutions, everything is hopeless, and everyone needs to just give up now and stop embarrassing themselves.
This isn’t high school, man. Nihilism isn’t edgy anymore. No one’s going to laugh at you if you try to accomplish something, anything (besides accumulating shotguns). Well, no one except you, apparently.
Why don’t you tell us more about your black friends, and how you manage to stay friends with them without (completely) hiding your race realist views? That might make a contribution (smelly bum alert), however small, to a cause (super-smelly bum alert) you apparently support (ultra-smelly mega-bum alert).
Let me qualify. Whenever I read or hear that from a distant, anonymous internet personage. Of course we shouldn’t shut down our blogs. And of course I wasn’t suggesting that “nothing leads anywhere.” But anonymous internet writers who talk down to me are . . . anonymous internet writers who talk down to me. I’d have more time for people in my local setting who have built solid movements or parties or groups for white interests. Those people don’t exist, so it’s on me to do something, and I am. But it’s a whole lot less glamourous and far less automatic than, “Yeah! We gotta mobilize!”
Hey, don’t hate on me because, as far as I’m concerned, you’re a ghost, and your rubric for mobilization needs serious work. I don’t hold any of those attitudes. I’ve just been involved enough in these things to get sick of “plans” to “do something.” We have as many of those as we have faceless interweb writers. No shortage.
Oh, yeah — nihilism. You sure nailed me.
I train in jiu jitsu. My club is mixed race. I stay pretty goddamn quiet in the club, but my Facebook profile is chock full of iconoclastic anti-anti-racist, anti-white genocide links and observations. All brilliantly phrased and framed, because I’m brilliant.
All my black rolling partners have noticed, I’m sure, since they comment here and there on non-essentials or posts that have nothing to do with race. Only one has brought it up in person. She doesn’t understand. It upset her. She takes the Judeo-liberal narrative on race for granted. She’s deaf to alternatives. She grudgingly accepts me as the “most dangerous racist in America” that she says I am.
All this cuz I said “we gotta figure out how to take this beyond the computer screen and mobilize… before it gets to that point”? I guess next time I’d better have a foolproof, 900-point plan for exactly how to accomplish all the race realist movement’s goals. Otherwise I’d just be insinuating shitty lies.
There’s a helpful suggestion in there somewhere, I can just feel it…
No such rubric was given or implied. “Plans” and “do something” are your words, not mine.
This, for example, has more meat on its bones. When I read it I wasn’t moved to bitchiness and cynicism.
http://www.theoccidentalobserver.net/2011/03/which-way-white-man-part-1/
I can’t help but notice that your meaty link is a post, and that it is considerably longer than my little throwaway remark, which was a comment on a post that has nothing to do with white nationalism, identity, etc.
You may certainly jump down my throat every time I say anything without providing an essay to flesh it out (all these meat metaphors are making me hungry), if you so choose.
Is it really so much to ask, for people not to take it personally when I analogize them to frantic schizoid bums?
Hold still Evan, I’m going to give you a big smelly hobo-hug!
This guy can’t be roissy, he actually looks like he might be attractive.
might be? is there some doubt in the matter?
i think not