by Billy Roper

There’s plenty of room to maneuver around inside of the mind of an Antifa, because it’s a space void of anything solid. There is, however, a lot of dark, viscous goo. Bring some high boots, and a flashlight, as we take a look at what makes them the lovable creatures Antifa are.

Antifa, just like the abolitionists whom they want to emulate when they grow up, are by definition White Supremacists. I called one yesterday morning after I traced his phone number. He’d stupidly used his primary e-mail address to contact me pretending to be a supporter, trying to get information about our last rally, the March Against Sharia in Batesville, last weekend. He wasn’t even smart enough to change the tag on it. So, I played with him, e-mailing back that sure, we’d be glad to have him, and naming a restaurant on the other side of the river from our location. I told him that we would meet him there for breakfast at 10 AM. Then, when I met with the Chief of Police, I told him where and when the Antifa would be. We got a good laugh sitting there watching the police cars cruise into the restaurant parking lot from across the river, and the Antifa scatter.

When I called him yesterday…let’s, for the sake of this article, call him “Marvin”. I called Marvin, and asked him why he hadn’t met us for lunch Saturday. He spit and sputtered and asked who this was. I told him, even spelling my last name for him. He denied being himself, gutless to a fault even over the phone, and said his name was “John Brown”. They really identify with the failed traitor who killed a free black man trying to start a revolution, even though they’re thoroughly pussies, themselves. The anti-White domestic terrorist organization they salute is called the “John Brown Gun Club”. Anyway, I laughed at Marvin, as we often do, and told him that couldn’t be, because John Brown’s body lies a mouldering in the grave (quoting an old song which he probably was too ignorant to catch the reference to) because, well, he got hung. Marvin hung up on me. After not joining me for breakfast, that’s the second time he’s been rude. My feelings are hurt. I don’t know, do you think my feelings should be hurt?

Why are they White Supremacists? Well, most of them are White, so based on their own critical theory of White privilege and institutionalized racism, that makes them White Supremacists. But more than that, Marvin and his ilk are White Supremacists because they condescend to nonWhites, especially blacks, like their pets, as poor, miserable, primitive creatures who need their protection, leadership, and guidance to be told who to be angry at and what to do about it. Like the abolitionists, they don’t trust blacks to be able to control their own destiny without being led to it and handed self-determination. They don’t believe that blacks, or other nonWhites, could govern themselves in their own ethnostate. One hundred and fifty years after the end of slavery, they still treat blacks like their property and pawns. They oppose the idea of ethnostates because they believe that nonWhite ethnostates couldn’t function without White help. Imagine what life would be like in a world where the Antifa won.

They are all very mixed up individuals, practicing cognitive dissonance, that is, maintaining multiple opposing ideas simultaneously, at such a shallow depth that they don’t contradict one another. Gay rights and Sharia law. Communism and Anarchism. Palestinian freedom and Jewish victimhood. This is because they are so self-loathing that they refute their own identities (57 genders, fluid sexual orientation, “race is a social construct”) while fighting against reality. Their mentality is like that of a badly disciplined toddler: cycles of emotional, destructive temper-tantrums punctuated by sulking. The world made them feel unpopular and unloved, so they’re lashing out at the world in anger. Many of them have been diagnosed with mental disorders and use drugs to self-medicate. When they have their masks off you can see it in their faces. It’s obvious that nobody loved them very much as a kid. Or, maybe, somebody loved them TOO much, if you know what I mean. Their eyes are filled with inner turmoil and weakness, the self-doubt brimming over into the verge of tears.

So, let’s give them something to cry about.

By the way, if you want to call or e-mail Marvin, hit him up at 501-804-8539, or, for the North Little Rock Anarchist Collective. Have fun.