There was only capital. There were no people. We were commodities earning points. Driving movement of capital, movement of ourselves for sake of the sanctified system. Non-fungible tokens in every shape and form. Fungible workers deracinated from history, identity, and family. Mass homogenized consoomption by mass homogenized consoomers. A mass of managerial elites ruled through mass managed dehumanization.
My name was Tyrone N' Darius. They would have you believe I was the first man on the moon, but that is not true. Take a seat! Get comfortable. Yes, compose yourself friend. I know it is hard to hear. These people who tell us the things, they lie. They don't think it be like it is, but it do.
We came to this point in time and space through an envy driven history. A minoritarian society Vs a majoritarian society. They called me the King of the Negroids. The year was 3005. Everyone was looking for meaning... This is my story.
As I said before my name was Tyrone N Darius! But now it is Tyrone N' Darius III. I have to pretend to be my own grandson when acting as a Peace Officer to maintain the various Tyrone images that were carefully crafted by my handlers. I only get to be my original self when doing space promos, even though I've never even been to space...
We lived in an expert run society. They controlled every aspect of our lives, maximizing the virtue levels of the cattle class for the sake of us Negroids and our handlers... the chosen people.
We didn't have to think for ourselves. The Talmudvision told us exactly how to think, how to perceive, what to believe, how to LcIoVoEnsoom. Doing your own research? Thinking for yourself? Sorry friend, but that's dangerous. We are sending you to the Infirmary.
...
As Tyrone N' Darius III, I had various duties outside of being Head Peace War Chief of the Peace Officers.
It was a Tuesday.
I was doing a Jew waifu in front of her husband. I was making my weekly rounds. Making my way through various high powered individuals requesting my services. It was tough having to satisfy all the Jewish waifus, especially with their husbands watching, jacking it all the way to San Diego. He had a fat pot belly, and black curly hair with a greasy skin overtone. I tried not to look, but his nasally grunting was so distracting. It was like a greasy pig jacking it in the corner; a perfect embodiment of gluttony.
Muh dick! I knew the feel.
The room was heavily furnished with the finest fabrics and textiles. The marble hexagonal floor was cold to touch. It stole the warmth right out of my feet. The bed was warm thanks to all the friction I was generating. Jewish women always demanded the most debased things from me. Their lust and imagination knew no bounds.
The customer took the phone. I wasn't really paying attention but he said something like "Yeah, it is me Rabbi Foreskinstein! I have heard the American Nigger Hunter X is back! Finally after a millenia I will have my revenge! Last time I saw him I was flying off in the helicopter. Because I was the pilot! We will launch a counter assault and stop them from activating Jupiter!" or something. I don't know I was too busy satisfying this filthy Jewish Waifu to properly listen in to the Chosen's one conversation.
After I finished pooping on the last couple of the day, I made my way to the local school. It was meet a Negroid day. I was occupied with tasks every day. I would be rewarded by my handler when I was finished.
"Here comes the Nig Juice!" he would say as he sometimes spooned them into my mouth, as he would pat me on the head and say "That's a good Negro!"
...
As I walked through the utopia I thought back to my early life. I was such a different person now. I remember this little white pasty kid I used to raz on. Cracker we would call him. He jumped into the pool this one time and the cracka go crack his back. I just started yelling it, and the name stuck. I would often wonder what had happened to that kid, American Nigger Hunter X I think his name was. The world was so different now...
I was just a Bix Nood Ni.. (oh I'm not allowed to think that word) back in the day, rising through the world of finance from one diversity position to the next, until I was on top. I kept telling them I didn't know what I was doing (I was only trained as a junior accountant), but they kept promoting me to positions that were beyond me; eventually I was running finances of a major country.
After the world collapsed for whatever reason, I was taken in by the Chosen people who crafted my backstory for me. I was the king of the Negroids. I had survivors guilt. All my other Bix Noods didn't make it. Killed by the white man who didn't feed them, didn't clothe them, and didn't look after them. How were they supposed to survive? Some paternalistic relationship that turned out to be! Parasites they called us. The collapse was a dark time for my people, we would stood strong, and now we are on top in this new Godless world!
A dark shadow covered everything. A demon... a devil... The devil is envy. God is content, but God was dead.
"Where is the McBurgers?" I would question myself.
Thoughts and images of a half forgotten world would at times flash through my mind. The Trauma Based MindKontrol would kick in and snap me back to...
I didn't know what the McBurgers was, but I could feel it in my heart that it was an integral part of WHO WE WERE and that is why they took it away from us. All I knew now was life under a handler, everything before erased from me. Was I a king? Or was I merely transplanted onto another plantation? Who were my plantation owners? It couldn't be my handler or the Chosen ones. It was probably somehow the white cattle class. I'd have to give them an extra dose of peace next time I am sent for negotiations.
...
Meet a Negroid day at Goyim High was like any other day. I shook hands, I smiled.
The kids said "WOw! It's Tyrone da third! His Grandad was first man on the moon!"
The goyim teachers salivated over me and worshiped every jut I made.
"Do you see that kids! That is excellence! That is what you should aspire to be. Now say sorry for enslaving his ancestors!" a paedo-teacher told the children.
It was like any other day... but then I saw a group of three Negroids walking through the hall.
It was normally just me here on meet a Negroid man day. They hollered and hooted, and jutting erratically as the kids looked up to them like heroes. Like gods. I saw myself in them.
This was Zoo life.
These three Negroids had no awareness of the agent/arena construct. The agent (I), the arena (my environment). We were being raised to be the perfect slaves.
Consciousness is second order intepretation of primary experiences. Our consciousness arises through seeing ourselves reflected in others.
White babies recognize themselves in the mirror after 15 months. Many Negroid children don't recognize themselves in the mirror until they six years old.
I felt the humiliation of being treated like an animal. Like a pet. Or a dumb child who Dindu nothin'! Doesn't no better and has no agency. I knew that was my life. I was at least self-aware of that much. We were raised to be Negroids incapable of understanding why the death of it's host is bad. Even viruses are more intelligent. We were raised like animals and used as weapons, not human.
Larger groups are naturally harder to organize. This is why the organized minority always rules over the disorganized majority. Just like how back in the day there was an organized minority of paedofags who groomed the disorganized masses' Goyim children and made it acceptable. Societies were always run by the organized minority and the minority would use many tools to maintain power. Our job as Negroids was to disorganize the masses and prevent them from organizing.
There was always massing of minority people led. Mass media, mass communication, mass psychosis, mass production, mass consoomption. Bix Nood. The default organizational function of institutions homogenous production for homogenous consoomption, led by managerial elites. Mass produced, mass conformed humans. Birds born in a cage believe flying is an illness. Bix Nood Bix Nood. The Hivemind; it's own validation fuels it. We were internalized to see everything as racist (meaning; white man's fault but also he has to gibs everything! forever! always!). We were the elephants tied to the stakes in the ground. We couldn't escape the tiny stakes because our perception of the stakes were formed during childhood when we were too small to escape them.
I had figured this all out before, but they had ways of making you forget with the Trauma Based MindKontrol. Constant ever changing meanings and definitions of words and reality. Nothing stable. Everything memory holed. You'd have to be Schizo to go against the Schizo reality. Atomization had made insanity a social asset. It's the constant that makes society, that makes civilization. Constants were needed to hold onto the past, to know who you were, were you came from, and were you are going. Without them we are uprooted and tossed like vegetables in the wind. A sickness of the soul.
Detroit
The time I said let my people go.
But the Temple of Mammon said "No."
Bix Nood.
It was all coming back to me, but then my Q-Orb went off, and action signals were sent to my brain.
"We got a code red! Peace Officers Assemble!" Command yelled through the Q-Orb.
"Shhhiiiiieeeettt!!!"
It was go time. The Goyim Cattle must have been up to no good. A category 5! I ran to the nearest tube and jumped in. My equipment was waiting for me at the matter transporter. Several squadrons of Negroids were under my command. Hopefully whatever was happening could be solved without having to rape and murder too many of them...
...
We were dropped down, just outside of Jonestown. We would grab and take stuff as part of the Wandering Raiding Tribal Negro Mythos. We had to maintain this illusion to keep the Whites in check.
As we approached the mass formation of whites in the market, I noticed a recognizable face. We had taken many of his sister before. Unfortunately my fellow Negroids could not control themselves and killed them after. He looked pissed.
My training kicked in. I began to jut and display dominance. I pointed at what appeared to be rare Pepes. I could not believe my luck. They had some other book, and a beautiful white girl caught my attention.
I pointed, and as training dictated I demanded "Gibs me dat!"
"No I will not gibs you dat!" he replied.
I was confused. This had never happened before.
"Gibs me dat!" I repeated with an open palm.
Maybe he didn't understand me.
"No! Get out of here!" he commanded.
I didn't understand. What was he asking of me? This was how things were done? Was he overturning the law tables?
Suddenly a good white man stepped out "Come on boys! We have to give them what they want! We don't want to anger our sponsors!" he said as he began to kiss my feet.
The other men agreed with this one. I felt relieved, but like we would have to kill some to make a point.
"Gibs" I asked of the man holding the Pepes, as I reached to grab for one.
I couldn't believe it!
He pushed me!
I fell to the ground.
"Christ is king!" he yelled.
His sister began to read from the book "So he made a whip out of cords, and drove all from the temple courts, both sheep and cattle; he scattered the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables."
I was trying to assess the situation. To see a way out of it that doesn't involve burning down all of Jonestown. But I couldn't see any other way.
That's when it happened!
"CHRIST IS KING! I repeat! CHRIST IS KING!" emanated from the market speakers.
Only mandated virtue signals should be coming through those!
I felt like I had heard of this Christ.
I didn't like how the villagers reacted
"Did you hear that! Christ is king!?" the villagers looked at each other reassuringly, like they were no longer scared of us "The radio is saying Christ is King so it must be true! The Pepes are right!"
A final messaged hearalded across the market square "People of earth! This is American Nigger Hunter X! There is no time to explain. Christ is king! I need you all to say N***** to destroy the system's control. If you all say it, Jerusalem bank loses control over you. It's the only way! Quickly there isn't much time! Do it! Say the word! Oh and I forgot to ment..."
"N*****" I tired to think the word but it made my brain hurt.
I received the impulses in my brain from the virtue signals. It was time to activate. I got up looking mad as hell. That would normally be enough to scare the White into submission.
"Riddle me this, Nigger. You know what I love about Niggers?" he asked.
"Huh?" that word he said... that was the forbidden word. I wasn't even allowed to think it, and he had said it. And I had heard it, and I had thought it.
"Nothing" he said as he punched me to the ground, making my nose bleed.
"You canna do dat! Dat racist!" I argued.
"Fuck you Nigger!" he insulted.
They all began to chant "Nigger! Nigger! Nigger!"
This was way above a category 5 negotiation. The virtue machines began to to beep and make error noises. The word they were shouting out! It was forbidden. They were all shouting it. Their scores had all dropped to negative, but if everyone's score was negative, then they would be recalculated to positive.
The virtue machines that monitored the town began to break down. Nigger was now a virtue.
I called out to my men "What is you doing? Get dem!"
...
The fighting was brutal. My fellow Negroids were being slaughtered. I made sure to get away. To get out. It was in my nature to survive. And something about that word Nigger. It fried the chip in my brain. I was starting to think for myself...
I had no interest in violence at this moment in time. Cognitive pursuits were mine.
That's when I realized! My handlers were controlling me. They were content with me hooked on FENTY. They were content with the promotion of senseless violence within me. This was no way for a Bix Nood Nigger to be living. Where was the honour? Where was the family? Where was the tribe? All there was... was Muh DIK, envy, gratuitous violence... all sold to us by the judeo-powers that be. Or at least at this stage I knew their name, I had seen their rituals. I had had sex with their wives. They were the Synagogue of Satan, worshippers of Baal. I had to escape.
I don't know why... but I ran to the forest. I didn't know what I would find, or where I would escape to, but as luck would have it I spotted a transport shuttle landing up ahead. It had the lunar insignia. I would finally get to go to the moon, or at least an orbiting research station. My first time in space...
Negroids were rare in space. They would bend over backwards for us on earth, but it only took several spacings of entire colonies by Negroids, for us to be treated differently in space. No one wanted to take the risk of a Negroid opening the doors and spacing everyone.
I made my way to the clearing where the shuttle landed. I would wait for my moment, and then sneak into the luggage room on the transport shuttle. I thought I was going to the moon, but little did I know, that this was merely the beginning of my adventures as the Space Nigger.
Chapter 1 Killing Pride
Chapter 2 Save the Jew Save the World
Chapter 3 Faker Than the Holocaust
Chapter 4 Planet of the Niggers
Chapter 5 Twelve Angry Jews
Chapter 6 One Flew over the Jewcoos Nest
Chapter 7 From My Virtue to My Principles
Chapter 8 Gods of Culture
Chapter 9 The Twin Towers
Chapter 10 Totalitarianism of Compassion
Chapter 11 Day of the Rope
Chapter 12 The Infantilization of Man
Chapter 13 Talmudic Influence on the Polyhedron World
Chapter 14 DIE
Chapter 15 The Usurper
Chapter 16 What a Nation is Built Upon
Chapter 17 Chinese Terminator
Chapter 18 A Simulacrum on a Simulacrum
Chapter 19 Future Perfect; the Godless World
Chapter 20 The Cost of God
Chapter 21 Riddle Me This, Nigger
Chapter 22 Lodestar; the Love of Christ or a Change of Heart
