The Commute

The following is a drive from my house in the northern Virginia suburbs of Washington, DC to work but it could be one of many similar spots across the Kwa in this age of transition...

Back out of the driveway in the quiet suburban neighborhood in mid-August. Leaves are still full on the maple, oak, chestnut, poplar, and ash trees though they are starting to brown and fall due to the dry summer. Wave hello to the neighbor on the right, a naval officer and his Asian wife; I like them both as individuals. He’s a conventional right-wing patriot, not at all agreeable to Bush’s amnesty but still a believer in the propositional America we’ve been given. Believes our greatest threat is Islam and best friend is Israel. My occasional challenges have not caused us strain. He is a decent fellow and a good neighbor.

On the other side are Somali tenants: a husband, wife and seven children ranging in age from late teens to fivish. They are not bad neighbors in the typical sense that is thought of. Islam seems to be giving them some semblance of discipline. The females all wear robes and head scarves. The modesty is becoming. Their younger children sometimes play with our kids. I have never spoken to the adults. We occasionally exchange waves.

Behind them (on the parallel street) are Peruvian newcomers. They fill the stereotype of the obnoxious Mestizo to a tee; loud music blaring at all hours forcing us to close our windows even when the weather is nice, when we yield to the base desire of wanting to sleep. Have called the cops thinking they’d get the message but that was expecting too much.

Drive down my street. The next house on the left has higher Latinos in the sense of being more Euro in both appearance and demeanor than their more prevalent cousins. Their daughter often plays with ours.

Walking down the middle of the street is some of the brood of pickaninnies imported by the U.S. Federal Government at our expense to a house at the end of the street. They slowly move out of the way and stare blankly as I dare to pass. Their presence in the street is ubiquitous; going to and from either the school to learn how superior they are to the White slaves who work day and night to feed, house, clothe, and entertain them or to 7-11 for their well earned sustenance. The sidewalk is too off-putting for them. 400 years of slavery and all. I believe I have heard that seven of the precious lil’uns occupy that house with their mammy. Some of the local White women have tried to be adult figures in their lives by taking them to the pool or otherwise watching them. The older “youths” or their friends often speed by with window rattling noise emanating from their SUV’s. What joy.

Further down is an older White couple still sporting signs for the GOP during every election cycle. One year before I woke up I went to the local school to hand out ballots for that racket.

Next to them is another Latino dwelling. The patriarch runs a towing business and cars overflow from all the residents. They have fixed up the house pretty nice. From what I hear they don’t get along with their gringo republican neighbors.

The rest of the drive out of the neighborhood includes some externally healthy White households. Most of the children in these cases are teenagers. Whites with young children are few; maybe one house out of twenty. Latinos abound and to their credit, most are industrious. Once their children are indoctrinated by ZOG that will change. By then we’ll have long said “hasta la vista baby”.

Heading down the major local road towards the Capital Parking Lot (aka the Beltway) the demographics hardly change either on the sidewalks, the busses or the cars. Latinos are everywhere. Asians aren’t far behind. Africans, home grown and imported, follow. Whites have been blown away. Driving through Annandale on Little River Turnpike can’t be much different than Tijuana. The McDonalds down near the Beltway doubles as a rent-a-spic though I doubt they get a cut of all that “cheap” labor. Then again no one does. I got no help from ZOG when my son was born but I’m sure all the wondrous “minorities” crowding us out did. No bother, I’m told they are enriching us.

Finally on the Beltway. Yes, it’s slow but I’m not on it for long. On I-66 West the traffic lightens and the speed limit is no longer posted as a mockery. Oh great, there’s a cop. Here to catch immigrant invaders? Going to stop a burglary, rape, or murder? Oh, it’s a speed trap. New $1,000 fines for driving too fast. Sam Francis so rightly called the hell of modern America an Anarcho-Tyranny. So true.

Ah, made it to work. And to think I get to keep almost 70 cents on the dollar. What a country.