The Life and Times of Hipster Racist

Comments, criticism, and hush money welcome.


Kinky Sex Fetish: A Manhattan Murder Mystery

Kinky Sex Fetish: A Manhattan Murder Mystery
Kinky Sex Fetish: A Manhattan Murder Mystery

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

The Slut Power

The Slut Power
The Slut Power

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5



Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

High School Harlots

High School Harlots
High School Harlots

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6



Strugglefucking Holly
Helpless Holly
Holly In Harm’s Way
Hazardous For Holly
Holly’s Heart
Catch Holly
Hurting Holly
Busting Holly
Forgetting Holly

AE911Truth: Experts Speak Out
Zero: An Investigation Into 9/11
9/11: Press For Truth
Hypothesis: The Story of Dr. Steven E. Jones
Architects and Engineers for 9/11 Truth
WTC7 Research
Remember Building 7


In Boy Scouts They Gave Me A Merit Badge For Tying Knots

Little did they know… or maybe they did?

‘Hurt me!’ she cried, pressing her body up against the shed wall. ‘Alright,’ I said. ‘You’re a terrible cook and I fancy your sister.’

She leant over the kitchen table. ‘Smack that bottom,’ she squealed, ‘Smack it hard!’ ‘I am,’ I said, ‘But the ketchup just won’t come out.’


Frantically I tore off her dress, bra and knickers. My heart was racing but I just managed to close the wardrobe door before she got home.

As I lay there on the floor, my naked body covered in treacle and whipped cream, I heard those inevitable words . . . ‘Clean up on aisle 3.’

sir-simpleton‘Are you ready to be tortured in a way only a woman can torture a man?’ she asked. I nodded nervously. ‘OK’ she said and ate half my chips.

Her body tensed and quivered as she felt wave after wave flow through it. I probably should’ve told her about the new electric fence.

If 50 Shades Was Written By a Man


Portland To Hold Huge Whites-Only Music Festival Sponsored by Racist Beer Brewery

Oh, sure, they are going to pretend it’s “not racist” but The Onion gives it away:

token hip-hop appreciation (GZA doing Liquid Swords, Shabazz Palaces) thrown in as a nod to the hackneyed assumptions that “hipsters” only listen to music according to some sort of carefully constructed online dating profile checklist.

A magical world where hipsters from all walks of life unite under the Indio sun to drink alcohol, indulge in drugs of every form, listen to music, and mock racial minorities.
A magical world where hipsters from all walks of life unite under the Indio sun to drink alcohol, indulge in drugs of every form, listen to music, and mock racial minorities.

“Online dating profile checklist” – get it? “Single white female seeking single white male.” Dating is the only place you’re allowed to not be openly “not racist.” Plus, artists like Wu Tang Clan and "experimental hip hop" in general are made-to-order for whites. Actual black people listen to Beyonce and Jay-Z and shit like that. Hipsters like their hip-hop with a heaping of Affirmative Action Studies pretension with socially conscious lyrics made by authentic articulate black college graduates whose cousin was like from the hood and stuff.

Plus, I mean, Speedy Ortiz? That’s totally hipster racist. What next, Cheech and Ching-Chong?

Look at the actual lineup: from Modest Mouse to the Violent Femmes to Microaggression, the new blister-pop trio – this is three decades of Whites Only music represented. Aside from the Token Negro Rappers, it’s whiter than a Tea Party. It’s a little known fact but ethnic Africans, lacking the R-43 chromosome cluster, cannot perceive Phosphorescent as music, nor can they get the wry, self-referential irony of The Radio Dept. You know, like that tribe of aborigines on the Discovery Channel can’t see the color teal.

SPLC Warns of Newest Hate Trend; Racial Minorities Should Avoid Whites Wearing 'Gang Plaid'
SPLC Warns of Newest Hate Trend; Racial Minorities Should Avoid Whites Wearing ‘Gang Plaid’

According to an anonymous PBR Inc. insider who only agreed to speak off the record, plans include drowning Jonathan Rado and Sam France in a five gallon jug of beer in order to “create a nuclear fusion of ‘hipster’ jokes that will consume and destroy them, leaving us free once more to discuss culture without referencing things that were already clichéd by the publication of The Hipster Handbook in 2003.”

And as all these artists come together for a PBR-sponsored music festival in Portland, irony will at last turn inside out, in one glorious implosion. “Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds,” the CEO of Pabst will say in gazing upon his creation. And he will mean it sincerely.

Yeah, but you’re still all a bunch of racists. You aren’t fooling anyone.



Hey #NiceGentrifier – Hipsters Get Off On Your Tears


More “mockery” of hipsters gentrifying urban neighborhoods, but their butthurt cannot be disguised by their snark. More proof of my oft-used adage: “anti-hipster is a code word for anti-white.” “Hipster” is simply a label given to young urban whites; no one calls themselves a “hipster.”

Now these young urban whites are usually pretty socially liberal and if you ask them they will swear up and down that they aren’t racist. They don’t feel racist. They don’t have negative attitudes towards other races. But they don’t realize that they are, in fact, “racist” – because the word “racist” is really just a code word for “white person” as well.

As blacks “reclaimed” the nigger word, and feminists reclaim “bitch,” “slut,” and “whore” so yours truly is reclaiming both words – “hipster” and “racist.”


#NiceGentrifier sparks debate about changing neighborhoods

Host a racist themed hipster party-why not right? #NiceGentrifier

Sounds like a plan! I’m dressing up like an Indian – feather not dot – in complete headdress and buckskin. Or perhaps a thug life rapper or a sombrero bandito.

I’m in yer neighborhood, appropriating your culture!

The Neighbourhood – Sweater Weather


NSA Spies On Americans, Then Passes Around Their Nude Pictures and Videos


Snowden …. Made a startling claim that a culture exists within the NSA in which, during surveillance, nude photographs picked up of people in “sexually compromising” situations are routinely passed around.

NSA employees have also been caught using their mass surveillance powers to spy on love interests, such as girlfriends, obsessions or former wives … and to eavesdrop on American soldiers’ intimate conversations with their wives back home. And see this (“routinely shared salacious or tantalizing phone calls that had been intercepted” … “‘Hey, check this out … there’s good phone sex’”).

By way of background, US and UK intelligence services have gathered millions of webcam images … many nude. The NSA collects and permanently retains many suggestive photographic images gathered in other ways. And top experts say the NSA is collecting the CONTENT of all of our phone calls and emails.

So NSA employees have access to a lot of nude or suggestive videos, photos, phone calls and emails.

It’s not just NSA … many government agencies have become corrupted.

For example, an employee of the Transportation Security Administration admitted that TSA agents share – and laugh at – nude scans of passengers.



Breaking Feminazis

I don’t care, I think this is the funniest stuff ever. It’s side-splittingly hilarious. No, I don’t find it erotic in the slightest. Sure, it’s sort of meant to be offensive, but that’s why I love it.

Warning: Extremely Not Safe For Work


It’s full of some really ugly porn, so to save anyone from having to click, I’m going to copy some of the best titles here. The set up is that there is a Gender Civil War, the Feminists vs. the Patriarchs, and the Patriarchs win and enslave women and single out activist feminists for sexy spankings and humiliating punishments. It had been taken down but it’s back up. Some of the best gems:

Feminist POWs play tug of war with their chains as they natural cattiness prevents them from agreeing whether cooking or cleaning comes 1st in their domestic duties.

Former Congresswomen of the Feminist Republic now serving as cunt-slaves in a Misogynist Warlord’s harem

A Misogynist Master removes the intellectual glasses from the caged Feminist Academic, as his little pet will never have the need to read a big book of Feminist Theory ever again

The belief in Gender Equality is a form of insanity that can only be cured in Patriarchal Asylums with the medicine of Misogynist cock

Pro-Choice Feminist Activists are kidnapped by Christian Patriarchs and forced to carry fetuses to term and give birth in submission as punishment for their Feminist sins.

But a true feminist would not be kneeling in her sexy lingerie before an audience waiting to be spanked. The audience clearly loved the incongruity of a feminist stripped and humiliated and they were bringing up her feminism and capitulation

Professor Margaret Kane, a respected Feminist Philosophy Theorist had tried to explain to her class of horny frat boys all the Ethical reasons why the New Patriarchy Regime was immoral.

Under the misogyny the police from the fempire were allowed to keep their old jobs as long as they agreed to a uniform change

The nice thing about Feminism is that the whores usually forget about it as soon as they get a dick in them

Removed from the prison of Feminism, these whores have quickly turned into mindless sex toys

MRA reduces Feminist Superheroines to kitchen bitches

It took Andrea surprisingly little time to stop being the depressed, fat assed cow she had been as a Feminist after her college was captured by Patriarchy troops

After the Patriarchy’s final conquest women were kicked out of the workforce, but some agreed to the honor of being office sex toys for $2 an hour

The dethroned heiress hangs her head in shame. All her life the Duchess had enjoyed the finer things. She was the glamorous, sophisticated, shining star of the elite. Then came the Revolution, and she finally saw herself for what she really was- just another shiny object. She was re-appropriated by the People along with her mansion, diamonds, cars and chandeliers.

Now she along with her possessions are being shipped overseas to pay the Republic’s debts. She is just another fragile, easily breakable object. She had defined her life by possessions, now she will be a possession. Her sparkling chains and delicate silk lingerie, are not hers, but for the pleasure of her Master. She is just Fragile cargo no different than glass.

Sick of the stiflingly rigid Patriarchy back East, Suffragette Settlers set off Westward Ho to the Frontier, to build a new utopian community of complete Gender Equality. Their isolated coastal community made up entirely of single women, is too tempting a target for Qing Raiders however. They are captured and their most private intimacies are marked with painful tattoos, permanently branding them as White Sex Slaves.

They then endure a horrifying trip across the Pacific, chained below deck to be sold on the Shanghai slave-market to the highest bidder. If they are lucky they will end up in the harem of a powerful Warlord with the means to take care of them. The unlucky ones will have to earn their keep, serving hordes of Men, in the cheap brothels.

The great Amazon Warrior Queen Hippolyta is captured in battle by Theseus. Women Warriors are not given the honor of dying on the battlefield, they are too valuable as breeding animals to waste.The attempt by her sisters to rescue her are defeated. She shed many bitter tears as she saw her glorious Amazon armies mowed down, as she watched enchained from the palace. She burned in shame, as she realized all their heroism was wasted. Their Queen was no more, she was just a Greek slavegirl. Now the proud Amazon wild conqueror will learn the humble life of an Athenian housewife. She is to spend her days weaving and her nights fucking. All of her Amazon Warrior nonsense is to be forgotten and she is to learn to be an obedient Greek wife. Her wild untamed barbarian pubic bush will be shaved into a gracefully trimmed rose garden.

Her womb will receive the seed of her conqueror. She is put on display as a mere war trophy. Theseus’s other slave girls have their curiosity get the better of them, and they are constantly sneaking peaks at their slave-sister. They can’t believe that a former Warrior Queen is now a fellow harem slave. The only battles she will fight now is that of childbirth.

During the early days of the Men’s Resistance Army’s actions against the Feminist Regime, individual men could only strike out in small lonewolf propaganda actions against prominent Feminist commissars. These small victories helped undermine Feminism’s ideological claims about the innate equality between the sexes.

The outspoken Feminist College President was raided in her own home by a gang of frat boys. Thrown onto her bed, she was forced to hold her labia lips open, as the MRAs snapped photos. She turned aside with her eyes closed in shame. Nothing better debunked Feminist Ideology, than photos of proud Feminist leaders covering in fear, before hulking MRA brutes. No one could claim that the 2 creatures in that picture were in anyway equal.

The poor widow had not even had time to mourn her husband’s tragic death, when the bloodsucking loanshark who had driven her husband to suicide, had the nerve to show his face. Wiping away tears she slapped the merciless bastard with as much force was her womanly hands could muster. He just laughed an informed her that under the Patriarchal Legal Code she was now his property.

She couldn’t believe her ears. And told him to get the fuck out. He handed to her the MRA Civil Code and to her horror it was all true. She would not even be given the mercy of attending her own husband’s funeral. Instead she was to be taken away immediately to become the fuck-slave of her husband’s worst enemy. Her black mourning lingerie just aroused the beast more.

With her husband always away on business trips, the Women’s Libber would brag to all her friends about the privilege and independence she enjoyed. She was practically a free woman with no Male Oversight. The power soon went to her head, and she even recklessly began holding Feminist Consciousness Raising Sessions in her living room. All her friends were invited to share stories about how Patriarchy was holding them down. She beamed with pride, feeling like the leader among Womyn.

But then one night her husband came home early from his trip, right in the middle of her Womyn’s Lib Consciousness Raising. She screamed in utter humiliation, when in front of all her Feminist friends, her husband threw her over the knee like a little child, and gave her a hard spanking. She blushed in shame as she saw all her Feminist sisters, who had once admired her, shaking their heads in disgust. She would never again be taken seriously by any of her friends and neighbors. Her Feminist credentials went down as quick as her panties. She was just another terrified, helpless housewife at the mercy of her husband.

The Mysterious Suffragette Wanderer had rode into town determined to clear out the bandits who dared to kidnap and sell women as cattle. Now having been captured, beaten, ravaged and marched across town naked, she is desperate just to get out. The same tough woman who had planned to being the brigands to justice, now begs for their mercy, just to ride out of town with her horse and carpetbag butt naked. This once fearsome Western heroine has to beg for mercy just for the privilege of leaving town naked.


TO: HipsterRacist@yahoo.com FROM: YogaAss@hotmail.com

Hipster, sitting at his desk, is going through his email. All of a sudden, a familiar name pops up. Millions of thoughts rush through his brain.

Is she going to tell him about the baby? Is it even his? Is it a boy or a girl? It would be about two years old now. Is she going to come clean? Does she want to meet? Did she break up with her boyfriend?

Hipster pauses, wipes a bead of sweat from his brow.

Maybe she wants child support. Maybe her boyfriend figured out it wasn’t his. Has she been thinking about him?

Anticipation. Dread. Joy. Elation. Fear. Happiness. Sadness. Anger. Confusion.

Hipster clicks the email.

“Hi Hipster, how are you? Remember that project we worked on a long time ago? Well I’m having some issues, can you help? ktnks bye … Dancer.”


Forgetting Holly


What do you think I am, some sort of monster?


Hey, what’s the point of this? Oh hey
What’s your favorite song? Maybe we could hum along

Hey, maybe just a smile, oh hey, did you know
That I can dance? Could we talk for awhile?

I think you’re smart, you sweet thing
Tell me your name, I’m dying here

Got you where I want you
Got you where I want you



Busting Holly


Come on, you knew it wasn’t going to end well. They caught the two guys a month or so later, red handed, breaking into an animal research facility. So we wound up not needing Holly at all. Which made me feel like shit. I was getting reassigned so I had to make my exit. I came up with some sort of lame excuse about transferring to another university. I promised Holly we would stay in touch. I’m not sure if she really believed me or not. Then, just before I left, she called me up and told me she had something serious to tell me.

I went over and just held her as she cried and cried. We just laid down on the couch and held each other. I took her to get it done a week later, paid for everything, then helped her move her stuff out of the dorms for Christmas break, took her home. We didn’t talk for maybe two weeks afterwards, she didn’t want to.

It got worse. One of the guys I had met at hockey sent me an email telling me I should probably see this. It was all the pictures. I think her bitch of a roommate, Stephanie, had gotten into her laptop and emailed them around. It looked horrible of course. Like something out of a horror movie. I mean, no one would understand anyway. Holly called me up in panic. I assured her I didn’t do it, I mean I would never. It was vicious gossip among all the students over Christmas break. She was getting harassing email – nasty stuff, from women and men. Just totally unnecessary bullying. People are assholes.


It all just blew up in our faces. She skipped the spring semester then transferred to some other college, she never went back. We did stay in touch but we were never together after that. Sometimes we would promise to get together but neither of us really believed it.

Just like that, it was all over. I asked for leave from work. I drank for nearly a month, basically, alone in my apartment, feeling like the biggest asshole alive.

I’ve been roaming around, always looking down, at all I see
Painted faces fill the places I can’t reach
You know that I could use somebody

Someone like you and all you know and how you speak
Countless lovers undercover on the street

Off in the night, while you live it up I’m off to sleep
Waging wars to shape the poet and the beat

I hope it’s gonna make you notice

You know that I could use somebody
You know that I could use somebody
Someone like you