It’s such Alt-fun watching two sentient beings tear each other apart for…well, fun!/Image: Licensed Adobe stock, drakuliren.
And he scores!
It’s none other than I Dikk Buttqiss, the sports columnist here at Spread Your Right Wings (SYRW). This is my first column here at no one’s favorite Alt-right lifestyle blog. To tell you a little about myself: I like all kinds of sports, from corporate-shiny ones like soccer, the game sport the world is obsessed; to activities like hunting whose inclusion in the category “sport” confuses everyone but in a grand tradition of humanity, everyone stays silent, because dudes like it and that’s all we need to know; to back-alley, dimly lit-room competitions that soulless monsters bet on, like cockfighting. I keep my finger on the barely detectable Alt-pulse of the right-wing players, fans, and pundits involved in all three types of pastimes. And today I want to bring you the details on three specific you-can-find-em-if-you-know-the-“right”-people sketchy diversions bringing together dishonorable nogoodniks whose politics skew to the hard right to laugh and point and egg-on as sentient beings who’re tortured and drugged into a state of madness tear each other from limb to limb. And then spectators bet on who the winner will be. Sounds like something you wanna be super-involved in, right?
Related: Don’t care-wear inspired by Melania’s coat of callousness.
For the purposes of this inane article, I’ll define a blood sport as any family-fun activity that involves pitting one mammal against another and causing the thing we hunger, thirst, yearn, and get hardcore for–the spilling of blood. That smell, that taste, that knowledge that someone could die. It’s so sexy..! Oh, sorry, let me get a tissue to wipe up this mess and get back to what I have to fill you in on.
Of Course–Just Of Course
There’s nothing we love here on the right like hating “immigrants.” We pay no mind that we Christo-whites are immigrants, that we raped, murdered, and poisoned with alcoholism and disease the Native American people and then claimed this land is your land this land is my land our homeland. We also pay no mind to the fact that we’re all one, all of us are on this spinning orb called Earth, that we live in a global village. And we certainly will have no part in the flat-out truth that we all have so much more in common than our border-obsessed outlook permits. Instead, we obsess about who has the right “documentation”–code for “race”–to be inside the arbitrary geopolitical borders of the U.S. of A. The first blood sport I want to tell you about is Brownskin Fighting. That’s when we take two men of Hispanic ethnic stock that we wrongly blame for stealing our jobs when it’s actually that the corporations that drive Republican, conservative policy-making don’t train us to be competitive players in an evolving economy, and we starve, beat, and psychologically torment these melanin-heavy fellows to the point of madness. Then we put them in some dingy room and tell them to fight to the death. Done and done!
Poor Poor People
Next up are those pathetic losers called “poor people,” many of whom count themselves among the idiots who read this website and other right-wing media nonsense that’s like processed, hormone-laden food, dripping with poisonous preservatives but for the brain–it’s awful, but it’s addictive. This blood sport goes by the moniker A Day at the Office In any Limited Liability Company or Corporation. Here, upper management takes advantage of the grueling work performed by “lesser” employees, as the latter’s eeks by, paycheck to paycheck; while the former’s wallet and stock portfolio and waistlines fatten. This is the job market in Everytown, U.S.A. in Late Capitalism, rigged as that system is against the working class. Part of the rigging I mentioned that makes this game so fun, like the simpleminded cocks in a cockfight who, we assume, don’t know any better, is that the workers think they always have a chance to get where the managers are if they just Protestant-work-ethic hard enough. it’s funny because it’s not true.
How much do you wanna bet the people who are already winning as judged by the level of ease and security in their lives of financial comfort will win, every day, and in the end, whenever that comes?
And: How to make your own house-of-horrors Immigrant Child Detention Center on your property.
Cops and Robber Barrons
The last sport you’ll be living a lesser life if you don’t take a gander at isn’t based on financial fisticuffs and feuds. No, it’s based on law enforcement authorities shooting unarmed black men. Go to any urban center around the nation and hundreds of such shootings take place every year. You won’t be in Generic Inner City long before a young, black man in a hoodie walks calmly away from the police while texting on his cell phone. This frightening, menacing behavior is, of course, assumed to be an aggressive, deadly attack, because the person engaging in it is the locus of hundreds of years of institutionalized racism, part of the insidious work of which has been to establish The Black Man Archetype, a violent aggressive being always, already looking to kill or otherwise victimize whites. That’s the cops must shoot him 17 times in the back, for example, as he runs away from them! And we Alt-righters get to bet on who’ll win at this blood sport. *Hint: it’s NOT the black men.*
Stop, Drop, and Call
You better stop reading this, drop anything else you might be doing, and get your under-the-table bookie on his cell. If you wait any longer, you might not get in on the most ante-up, flesh-ripping battle appropriately taking place in some horrible place like the back of a slaughterhouse or an abandoned warehouse in an ex-manufacturing center in whatever decaying American city you call home. If that happens, how will you earn that extra pocket money for some “I Don’t Really Care! Do You”-wear that you sink the tainted-more-than-usual money you earn from the suffering of others. Of course, that’s all money in Late Capitalism, but especially the earnings from gambling on how ferocious two creatures can be to each other when we rightists force them to fight until one can’t anymore. He just can’t. But we can, and we’re having fun, and that’s all that matters. That’s all.
Woo! What a rush sports are, huh, SYRW readers? The camaraderie, the rooting for the one who already has the upper hand, the fatal competition, and–in these cases–the smell, the taste, and the feel of blood. It gives life, blood–until it’s spilled. And then it symbolizes death. And we on the right love death, of immigrants, the poor, black people, and ultimately the entire nation we claim to be patriots ofit
Also: See how the White House under Trump recruits “talent” to fill its job vacancies.
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