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Allow a single tear to trickle down your cheek and drop onto the sleeve of your pale yellow golf shirt, fellow white Americans, for the day that we feared has come. I’m not talking about the cancellation of the U.S. Open, though that is certainly a blow for whites. I’m talking about the very death of our proud but pale race. Sorce)


For hundreds of years, whites have boldly dominated American cultural and sociopolitical life, using tools as ingenious and disparate as tfab-c1v2spoll taxes, the John Birch Society, American Bandstand, and Tang. But the demographics winds are changing. We already know that whites are projected to become a minority— in this very country that our ancestors stole, and founded— in the year 2043. Perhaps you thought that meant that you could relax, at the country club, maybe while drinking a nice Arnold Palmer (which, Armando, will you be a good amigo and fetch me? Thanks much!) for the next 30 years? Hardly, my friends. The beginning of our end is already here. (Sorce)

New Census figures released today show that for the first time in more than a century, more white Americans died than were born last year. We, as a people, are on the decline. Now we know exactly how the native Americans felt. We are all “brothers” now, in unity against the Mescans. Ironically, the only thing that prevented the white population from declining in absolute numbers was immigration of whites from abroad. Did you ever think you’d live to see the day when we’d actually welcome Irishmen to our shores? Yet here we are, dependent on our pallid brethren from abroad to keep our ranks strong. Proud natural born American whites now find ourselves forced to hold our nose and implore the scoundrel French and the bastard British oppressors to relocate here. A high price we pay for racial unity— a high price indeed. (Sorce)