Trolling Core America


The reader who submitted the photo writes,

The middle America trolling backdrop will get the most attention, but it’s the large, ugly tat that adds a special trashiness to this exhibit of decline.


  1. IMO it’s shit like this that is helping cause eg Blacks and Hispanics to hate and feel contempt for Whites. Asians to some extent too. Because it is largely Whites who are pushing this — they also comprise most of the PC enforcers who agitate against anyone who says the slightest thing against the LGBT agenda.


  2. I seriously doubt that there is anything that is going to make Blacks or Hispanics vote conservative in any significant numbers, but if there is, it’s going to be shit like this…


  3. In Flanders fields the poppies blow
    Between the crosses, row on row,
    That mark our place; and in the sky
    The larks, still bravely singing, fly
    Scarce heard amid the guns below.

    We are the Dead. Short days ago
    We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
    Loved and were loved, and now we lie
    In Flanders fields.

    Take up our quarrel with the foe:
    To you from failing hands we throw
    The torch; be yours to hold it high.
    If ye break faith with us who die
    We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
    In Flanders fields.
    Lt. Col. John McRae


    1. Wow. My father (he’s been dead for a few years now) always used to recite poetry when he was shaving and my siblings and I would roll our eyes at each other as if it was weird. This was one of the poems. I never thought of it or gave it the time of day, as with much of the things my dad said and I wish I had. He was one of the smartest people I ever knew, only I didn’t realize it till I was older. Hindsight is 20/20. This poem shows what a really bad job we’ve done being vigilant – by knowing who rules over us and holding them to account. There were probably many people working for those working to destroy our country who were willing to tell all, but the people just weren’t willing to fight. Just didn’t value freedom enough, as Solzhenitsyn put it. Or however it is you spell his name. And we’re gonna end up the exact same way if we don’t do something about it real soon. If we ever let them take our guns we are finished, it’s over.


  4. A eulogy for those fools who fought the wars for this prize.

    Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
    Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
    Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
    And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
    Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
    But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
    Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
    Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
    Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
    Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
    But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
    And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
    Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
    As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
    In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
    He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
    If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
    Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
    And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
    His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
    If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
    Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
    Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
    Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
    My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
    To children ardent for some desperate glory,
    The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
    Pro patria mori.

    Dulce et Decorum est by Wilfred Owen

    The old lie is that it is good and fitting to die for one’s country.


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