What Happens at a White Supremacist Rally?

Supriya Ambwani | 

The Jester of Columbia has been committed to high-quality and socially responsible journalism since 1901. We believe in being impartial observers of events. Since white supremacist rallies are the cool new raves in town but being diverse is woke, we decided to invite a diverse group of attendees at last week’s white supremacist rally in Staten Island to write about their experiences at the event. In keeping with the tenets of journalism espoused by Fox News, we urge our readers to sympathise with all the brave folk who have selflessly contributed to this piece. Remember: the new Nazis are the good Nazis.

Lord Eugeny X*, Grand Duke of the Kool Kids Klub (KKK)

It was such a beautiful night. I looked out at a sea of beautiful white men. White in front of me, white to my right, white to my left, white to my diagonal. All my beautiful comrades with their buzzcuts, plaid shirts, and flame torches. I breathed in the smell of victory.

The good men were so sexy they made my Little Duke stand up. Unfortunately, they are clumsy men. Their ‘Heil Grand Dukes!’ were uncoordinated but at least they screamed at the Jews to stop replacing us with their homosexuals and money. I am so proud of my army of virility.

All of a sudden, I saw a black man with dreadlocks, undoubtedly high on the marijuana and innocence of white women, approaching the stage. He was holding a huge bag that smelled like cheese and pineapples. It was a bomb! It had to be! That monkey man approached MY territory with such nonchalance. This country has gone to hell since it gave those people rights. I felt sick and overcome with the urgency of saving my people. I am a brave and selfless leader. I grabbed my microphone and roared, “Black terrorist approaching with a bomb!!! GET HIM!!!”

My brave men screamed and rushed towards him. I saw the terrorist tremble just like the rest of his people should. His bag was pulled off and he was pulled into the crowd. I heard him scream and then get thrown in the air. The scum continued screaming as he was bounced up and down by my brave, beautiful men. Serves him right. If only these were the 1930s… I would lock him in a special little chamber with the rest of his foreign-skinned occupant family.

At that I concluded the night’s ceremony and went home to look for more beautiful, brave men on Grindr. For anatomic purposes, of course.

Pale McFlaccid*, Protestor Holding a Tiki Torch

I joined the Kool Kids Klub last year because my mate Darcy told me that it would help me get chicks. I am 27-years-old and the only woman who has not pepper sprayed me yet is my beloved mother. I do not understand why those women walk around exposing their ankles and looking for jobs if they do not want me to penetrate them. Feminazis today have forgotten their place–in the kitchen during the day and between the sheets at night. Darcy told me that I could set them right by joining the KKK. Why do those whores need jobs when they should be looking for husbands to serve? My mother tells me that those sluts do not understand that I am a precious, handsome boy.

My mate Darcy and I get good money to go to KKK meetings and rallies. I am in charge of tiki torches. Some disgusting liberal snowflake tried to tell me that coloured people made tikis. I tried to set fire to that bitch for talking to me but Darcy held me back because he wanted to seduce her. He now admits that he would have succeeded if he had let me barbeque her first.

Anyway, we attended an amazing rally in Staten Island led by Lord Eugeny X, Grand Duke of the KKK last weekend, across the pond from those feminazis. Lord X is such a sexy, powerful man. Darcy told me that he definitely gets laid, just like we will one day. Darcy and I were hungry and ordered some pizza before turning our attention to Lord X. He spoke many truths about strangers coming in, killing our people, stealing our women, and taking over our land. I banged my tiki torch on the ground and roared that I would not let that happen. All my comrades joined me.

All of a sudden, Lord X screamed “Black terrorist approaching with a bomb!!! GET HIM!!!”  Everyone turned around to see a black man with wild hair characteristic of the black species strolling towards us with a large bag. I sniffed the air and then sniffed again. I looked at Darcy and found him sniffing the air too. It was our pizza! We leaped onto the terrorist, grabbed his bag, and ran into the woods with it. We pulled out the box of pizza and opened it to find all the gooey goodness of cheese and pineapples staring back at us. We sighed, biting into our respective slices. Pizza really IS better than sex.

Freddy D, Pizza Delivery Guy

White folks are so crazy man! Last Saturday started out the same as any other day in my life. I was working at my Famiglia, delivering pizzas to all the lazy folks too lazy to walk their butts over to get take out, when I got a call from the middle of buttfuck nowhere forest. I groaned because I thought it was those stoner kids who never tip again. So I was chilling there watching the chef bake their pizza when I saw him wrinkle his nose and put goddamned pineapples and extra cheese on it. He looked as disgusted as I felt as I put it in my delivery bag. Well, at least it wasn’t the stoner kids ordering pizza to the middle of the forest again– they had better taste than that.

I biked fast. The weather was pretty good. As I approached the site, I heard chanting and saw random flashes of light. As I moved closer, I realised that it was a rave. Dozens of men were chanting and banging tiki torches into the ground. They were facing a silver-haired man in a black robe who was standing on a stage, waving a microphone around. I was like dayuuuum Freddy! This is going to be a party to tell the folks about.

I moved towards the crowd to figure out who the hell ordered that damned pizza. The people were so white, but it’s Staten Island so I was like whatever. It looked like a fratboy orgy. It was pretty poppin’. All of a sudden, black robed dude grabbed his microphone and yelled something about a black bomb. Everyone turned towards me. I was the black bomb!!! Hell yeah they wanted me to party!!! I started bobbing my head to their chanting. The crowd rushed towards me to embrace me into its fold. Some kind souls got my bag off my shoulder before the others started crowdsurfing me. It was insane!!! They were bouncing me and down and chanting some tantric stuff. I couldn’t hear what they were saying because my body kept screaming in exhilaration but it sure seemed fun.

As soon as I started getting dizzy, the black robe dude yelled something and walked off the stage. I tell you, that guy was psychic. How did he know that I wanted to stop? Anyway, the other frat boys stopped bouncing me and dropped me onto the grass. They could have lowered me down more gently but I was so pumped that I didn’t care and bounced right back up. And then I remembered that my boss would kill me if I got back late, so I ran back to my bike after waving goodbye to my new friends. They seemed confused for a while but tried to chase me when they saw me leaving. I waved at them and thanked them for a great party as I left. It wasn’t until I hit the main road that I realised I had lost my bag and not even gotten a tip. Oh, well. Shit happens.

* Some names have been changed to protect the writers from being triggered by trigger-happy liberals.     

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