Why you stay in shithole Thailand and not First World America? Dere, you'll have almost no friends, neighbors you can't talk to and your kids won't have any exposure to life outside school, until they're old enough to score hard drugs in the hood. By then, they been talking and dressing gangsta for years, so they'll think they fit right in, until some evil shit happens.
Raise a kid in shithole America? Some of the nastiest perps in the vids you are posting are “Somebody’s kids”. You don’t want that rubbing off on your own brood. There are much more respectable liars in this world to raise a family, as I am surrounded by expats that understand all too well - except for one guy who still thinks “Russia bad!” and America will save the world, but a persons world view becomes quite narrow if you spend most of your time on an oil platform out in the barren sea - so I cut him some slack.
Brick to the face, head pounded against the floor until the cash register code is given; it's a cryin' shame that beaten night clerk didn't have a concealed carry to snuff out the lives of these two useless, fat-assed, eaters.
Seeing this makes me even more appreciative of the grey-beard Dominican bodega clerk in NYC who knifed the ex-con dindo in the neck after he attacked him. The bodega worker was charged with murder, throw in Rikers, and given a $250,000 bail until public outrage forced the Soros-funded black DA to drop the charges and set him free.
The CCTV cameras recording a clear case of self-defence, saving a man from years, even decades, in prison. Still, it took public outrage to clear the guy since the DA had seen the video and charged the Dominican with murder anyways: on the race intersectionality chart black skin trumps brown (Dominican) skin.
Seems like the government is making it that, if you're white, it's better to take a brutal, even potentially deadly beating from a black than dealing with the consequences of shooting him or her to save yourself from harm.
Two weeks ago (August 14th) a young, 22-year-old, man and his pretty girlfriend stopped to help a black woman pretending to be having car problems within the Alabama National Forest. His deciding to be a Good Samaritan led to a bullet in his back and cost him his life.
Note to self: Always, always, be careful around blacks you don't know even outside the ghetto, inner-city, and urban environments.
My first car, a used Mustang II, was stolen by two blacks in Virginia. I saw them driving it days later, (I would end up owning just two cars, for less than two years altogether).
In Philly, I was almost mugged by a black wielding a hammer. The cop who broke up the mugging was also black, and so was the judge in court. Through my clear testimony, mugger was finally convicted. Cop thanked me afterwards and said that muagged had been in court seven other times without convicition. Mugger claimed he had a hammer to defend himself against Asian gangsters, who had supposedly attacked. Suppressing a smile, judge asked me, "Mr. Dinh, are you an Asian gangster?"
In Cape Town, I was almost mugged by three blacks within sight of the statue of Nelson Mandela waving from a City Hall porch.
On the other hand, I have had many black friends and acquaintances. One of my best friends in high school was black. He's now a realtor in Dallas. A favorite high school teacher was black, Mr. Carter. In Philly, whenever I was down to nothing, I would walk around and wash windows with a black man, Lee Goldston. Though these were his gigs, he always gave me half of the day's takes. Our best job was washing windows for a church on Rittenhouse Square. Their sexton was a black guy apparently picked off the street, for his room looked like a homeless living arrangement under a bridge.
I just spent eight months in SubSaharan Africa, in Cape Town, Windhoek and Swakopmund. I met many pleasant people in both places, but in all five places I stayed at, the security setups reflected the dangers. In Busan, South Korea, my guesthouse didn't even lock its door at night. In Cape Town, electric fences and high walls were everywhere. Though Windhoek was safer, I still saw electric fences, including at my guesthouse complex. My room had a button I could push to alert my landlord. He had been robbed.
Exploring the US through the years, I walked through black neighborhoods in Oakland, Jackson, Gary, Baltimore, Washington, Chester and Camden. I walked through the worst Philly ghettos. While standing across the street from the One Percenter's Clubhouse, a black bikers' bar where my friend Jerome Robinson had been shot dead, I was chased away by a very pissed off black teen. When I saw him approaching, I actually thought, Shit, maybe this is it.
In Rehoboth, home of the Basterds, an old woman claimed me as a husband without knowing my name. Talking rapidly with a sister on the phone in Afrikaans, I could hear her say excitedly "Chinaman." Lady thought she had snagged a rich Chinaman.
One of the fondest memories is drinking tombo in Swakop with a bunch of strangers.
7 comments:
Dindos pay with bricks - it’s the latest thing.
Yo Biff,
Why you stay in shithole Thailand and not First World America? Dere, you'll have almost no friends, neighbors you can't talk to and your kids won't have any exposure to life outside school, until they're old enough to score hard drugs in the hood. By then, they been talking and dressing gangsta for years, so they'll think they fit right in, until some evil shit happens.
Linh
Yo Linh
Raise a kid in shithole America? Some of the nastiest perps in the vids you are posting are “Somebody’s kids”. You don’t want that rubbing off on your own brood. There are much more respectable liars in this world to raise a family, as I am surrounded by expats that understand all too well - except for one guy who still thinks “Russia bad!” and America will save the world, but a persons world view becomes quite narrow if you spend most of your time on an oil platform out in the barren sea - so I cut him some slack.
Biff
Fess up, Biff, how much is pootin payin ya?
Brick to the face, head pounded against the floor until the cash register code is given; it's a cryin' shame that beaten night clerk didn't have a concealed carry to snuff out the lives of these two useless, fat-assed, eaters.
Seeing this makes me even more appreciative of the grey-beard Dominican bodega clerk in NYC who knifed the ex-con dindo in the neck after he attacked him. The bodega worker was charged with murder, throw in Rikers, and given a $250,000 bail until public outrage forced the Soros-funded black DA to drop the charges and set him free.
The CCTV cameras recording a clear case of self-defence, saving a man from years, even decades, in prison. Still, it took public outrage to clear the guy since the DA had seen the video and charged the Dominican with murder anyways: on the race intersectionality chart black skin trumps brown (Dominican) skin.
Seems like the government is making it that, if you're white, it's better to take a brutal, even potentially deadly beating from a black than dealing with the consequences of shooting him or her to save yourself from harm.
Two weeks ago (August 14th) a young, 22-year-old, man and his pretty girlfriend stopped to help a black woman pretending to be having car problems within the Alabama National Forest. His deciding to be a Good Samaritan led to a bullet in his back and cost him his life.
Note to self: Always, always, be careful around blacks you don't know even outside the ghetto, inner-city, and urban environments.
https://www.ntd.com/man-dies-in-shootout-with-would-be-robber-in-alabama-woods_826400.html
Hi Martin,
My first car, a used Mustang II, was stolen by two blacks in Virginia. I saw them driving it days later, (I would end up owning just two cars, for less than two years altogether).
In Philly, I was almost mugged by a black wielding a hammer. The cop who broke up the mugging was also black, and so was the judge in court. Through my clear testimony, mugger was finally convicted. Cop thanked me afterwards and said that muagged had been in court seven other times without convicition. Mugger claimed he had a hammer to defend himself against Asian gangsters, who had supposedly attacked. Suppressing a smile, judge asked me, "Mr. Dinh, are you an Asian gangster?"
In Cape Town, I was almost mugged by three blacks within sight of the statue of Nelson Mandela
waving from a City Hall porch.
On the other hand, I have had many black friends and acquaintances. One of my best friends in high school was black. He's now a realtor in Dallas. A favorite high school teacher was black, Mr. Carter. In Philly, whenever I was down to nothing, I would walk around and wash windows with a black man, Lee Goldston. Though these were his gigs, he always gave me half of the day's takes. Our best job was washing windows for a church on Rittenhouse Square. Their sexton was a black guy apparently picked off the street, for his room looked like a homeless living arrangement under a bridge.
I just spent eight months in SubSaharan Africa, in Cape Town, Windhoek and Swakopmund. I met many pleasant people in both places, but in all five places I stayed at, the security setups reflected the dangers. In Busan, South Korea, my guesthouse didn't even lock its door at night. In Cape Town, electric fences and high walls were everywhere. Though Windhoek was safer, I still saw electric fences, including at my guesthouse complex. My room had a button I could push to alert my landlord. He had been robbed.
Exploring the US through the years, I walked through black neighborhoods in Oakland, Jackson, Gary, Baltimore, Washington, Chester and Camden. I walked through the worst Philly ghettos. While standing across the street from the One Percenter's Clubhouse, a black bikers' bar where my friend Jerome Robinson had been shot dead, I was chased away by a very pissed off black teen. When I saw him approaching, I actually thought, Shit, maybe this is it.
In Rehoboth, home of the Basterds, an old woman claimed me as a husband without knowing my name. Talking rapidly with a sister on the phone in Afrikaans, I could hear her say excitedly "Chinaman." Lady thought she had snagged a rich Chinaman.
One of the fondest memories is drinking tombo in Swakop with a bunch of strangers.
Linh
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