Need to be forever isolated from society. They need to forfeit their homes, their children, all of their assets. There is no place for them here.
https://www.houstonchronicle.com/news/investigations/article/Southern-Baptist-sexual-abuse-spreads-as-leaders-13588038.php

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They turned this country into an embarrassing shithole. A fucking racist dump. I hope they all get an opportunity to rot to death in the vast prison camp they helped build.

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Nancy Nall no longer has an “inner racist”. She’s on full display.

My patience snapped during the (again, overlong) scene of the KKK initiation, intercut with Harry Belafonte telling the story of a lynching. The former event is happening in a hotel ballroom, with full robes and all**, and there’s a line of waiters in the back, white, black and brown. He pans down the line of their faces — the black men are angry, the brown men stone-faced and two white women are beaming and nodding along. I’m like, fuck you, asshole.

Do you remember, years ago, Barbara Grizzuti Harrison wrote a profile of Lee for Esquire or GQ or one of those, and the headline was “Spike Lee hates your cracker ass”? He was incandescent with anger over that, but I’d say she (or whoever wrote the headline) got that one right on the nose.

** This event is going on in, yes, a semi-public space, even though earlier in the film they didn’t even say “Klan” to one another, but insisted everyone call it “the organization.” Also, we’re asked to believe that David Duke flew across the country to behold the swearing-in of a single KKK member. OK, whatever.

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Nancy: I wartched a Spike Lee movie and it was too many black people saying stuff. It hit me on the head so much. People were acting like they know what’s going on in the future. I would rather wartch Mad Men and Game of Thrones. More white people.

Basset:I got my first pension check, so I bought me a magnet, put it on a string, and went to look for muh lost toe down at the pier. Couldn’t get the magnet out of the floorboard of the car, cause the car is metal. Went home and sulked.

Beb: You are just a sad old man like me. What you need with dead toe?

Jackash: Wohoho, boys, don’t upset the apple cart just because of a little senility. We can all be superficially kind to one another here while I take cowardly little digs at you like a skeevy little shit. You like it, too, because you love being treated like worms.

beb: I am raising bushy eyebrow. Are you sulting me?

Jeff TMMO: Far be it from, I believe, an insult to whom it is meant whereby a Christ-figure like mine self may gently prod the infirm and the poor of spirit with a frangible mix of the humoresque and la occasionelle cut indirect, I believe Jackash is just saying he loves you in the way that I love you, which is strictly in a Christian way, and not to be confused with the goings on in our fellowship hall.

Sally: I wanna eat a chocko bunny from the head down.

Basset: Nope. Not for me. I don’t like movies or candy. Reminds me too much of the times I threatened to shoot up the house during the holidays. I like working a black mood. My British mother used to call me “Auld Cunty.” It means “regular fellow.”

Speaking of which, I ain’t had a movement in a couple of weeks. Maybe another chunk of venison will push it out.

…are piling up on this woman. It’s astonishing how racism and misogyny got this country by the throat so thoroughly. The United States was born in greed, and will rot in hatred.

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The distance between Sanders supporters and fascists always closes in the presence of a strong woman.

And that’s what we need. Not some mealy-mouthed shitpants old white man jacking off to his grave. We need to sweep the Russian trash and its mumblefuck enablers out of this country. I hope President Pelosi does it with extreme prejudice.

…”aren’t big fans of Nancy Pelosi.” Eat a river of flaming shit.

When I watched Nancy Nall boast about telling Black Lives Matter protesters to “BE QUIET!” I knew white “journalists” are taught to process information as though it were a profit center or a means of enforcing white space.

You can count on the press failing at every level without the slightest prompting. They believe the truth can be found in an envelope containing a boat, car or house payment from a right wing source. They automatically cower before perceived authority; and when the moment arises where the stark choice between right and wrong is painfully evident, they will side with the dollar every time.

There are times in this life where you are handed a moment that defines your soul. Our press is already a clique of hollowed out, acquisitive dead. I don’t know why people expose themselves to TV news to watch these characters suck dick.

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When me and Mrs. Basset first moved to Tennessee my sugar was about right, so we really loved driving down a block from our house and spending lunch through dinner at Lester’s Gobs o’ Chicken and Ribs. The hamnoodle hamaroni went down reeel good with their sassafras and peanut butter shake. That was before Lester was forced to admit blacks and closed the place down, drove home in his Tundra Moss Gray Studebaker Avanti, shut the garage door and tried to gas himself- but his employees had sugared his gas tank and the engine cut out.

It was already getting hard to find good help.

Lester walked with his shotgun the whole half-block to the dealership to register a complaint and the police handcuffed him and he wound up in the bughouse. I used to visit him and we would eat the jello ham curry powder mold together. In those days the Nashville Home for the Delusional and Slightly Scary served buckets of whole, deep fried russet potatoes. Someone told me they put antipsychotics in the whipped butter, but I never noticed any, and I ate that delicious creamy delight by the fistful. Those were uncommonly peaceful, serene days. Sometimes I think about those times during the holidays and I get sullen and angry. I hate a Christmas tree.

and his support of MAGA racist trash should wake people up to the fact our media is gutter cheap and easily compromised. All the Russians or klansmen have to do is dangle a boat or house payment in front of these mediocrities and they’ll dance whatever dance their paymasters want. J-school must just be flat out teaching asslicking, because I’ve seen this craveness across all the various disciplines of journalism, or at least its pathetic American iteration.

From the local shitrags to the fawning cryptofascists made up to sit in front of A TV camera, the default position is kissing up to perceived wealth or arrogant power. When the people they are currently sucking off turn around and start loading the fuckers on the cattle cars, they’ll be wailing about injustice. But until that day, they are indisputably with our enemies.