The Real White Supremacy No One Is Talking About (Spoiler Alert: It's the Libs)

Thomas Boyd

Roughly ten years ago I was booked with two other comedians to perform for a 300-plus crowd of Pennsylvania farmers at a tractor convention in State College, Penn.

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The MC for the show was a local comedian I’d never met. I overheard the booker tell him, “no scarf jokes and no Jerry Sandusky” before he took off, which was probably good because of the comedic suicide that was about to take place.

FACT-O-RAMA! Jerry Sandusky was a Penn State football coach. He had been convicted of sexually assaulting young boys in June of 2012, roughly five months before my aforementioned show. The scandal gutted the town of State College and in many ways, the entire state of Pennsylvania.

The MC got on stage and immediately referenced Sandusky, though not with any jokes. He then attacked college football in general, a high crime in Pennsylvania, especially in a room full of Carhartt devotees.

The “comedian” told the audience he was gay, then called them “homophobes” when they didn’t applaud the fact that he likes dudes. He referenced his “gay” scarf and the meaning behind it and told the “hayseeds” they weren’t smart enough to understand. He mentioned his “fluid” partner.

“So my partner is fluid,” the comic continued. “I forgot, you’re farmers. Being fluid means sometimes he identifies as a woman and sometimes as a man. But how would you know that?”

FACT-O-RAMA! I lived in New York City for over 20 years and the only fluids I knew of were in my car or stained in my boxer-briefs.

To say the comedian was bombing like Hiroshima would be an understatement.

He didn’t go on stage to entertain the pleasant crowd; his goal was to mock them and to feel better about himself.

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I don’t know if I felt worse for the audience or the comedian who had to go on next.

“Looks like he’s warming them down for you,” I joked to the comedian who was standing by to take the stage.

In less than 15 minutes, the “master of ceremonies” had:

  • Mocked the “hayseeds” because they were farmers
  • Called them “homophobes”
  • Told them they were stupid because they didn’t know the meaning of his “gay” scarf or his “fluid” boy?friend

He had thus far called them everything but racists.

“Well, if you hate me — and you do — you’re really gonna hate the next comedian because he’s a black man,” the suicide-bomber comedian continued.

BINGO! He hit the lefty trifecta of accusations: he told the charming, white, country-living audience that they were stupid, homophobic, and racist.

It was also the most egregious display of “supremacy” I’d ever seen. Every moment of his painful tirade was just a way to say, “I’m better than you.”

But he still wasn’t done.

The MC got off stage and flipped to the other side of the liberal hate coin — he played the victim.

“They hate me for being gay,” the loser squealed.

The black comedian did the only thing he could do to save the show — he made fun of the MC.

He opened with, “You people better laugh, or I’ll bring back the gay guy and his scarf!” The audience exploded with laughter.

“Apparently, they don’t hate the black man,” I laughed as the MC went off to weepily call his lady-boyfriend.

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Related: The World is Going Full Commietard — It’s Time To Stand Up

Bigoty-bigoty!

No one hates as intensely as a leftist, and no one strives harder to feel “supreme” over others.

The leftists feel zhim/zher hatred is acceptable because “they hate us more.”

I’ve actually never met a conservative who “hates” gay comedians in gay scarves. The truth is — in the eyes of the libs — far worse: we just don’t give a s**t.

Be gay, wear a gay scarf, polish the rockets of every guy in the Air Force — I don’t care.

The small-town gay comedian needs to be hated for three reasons:

  • Being hated means he can justify his hatred for the white ruralistas.
  • He needs to believe he matters to someone, anyone, even if it’s phantom hatred from backwoods “enemies.”
  • He needs to feel “supreme” over another group.
Fake Superior

The left needs to feel supreme to someone, and bucolic white folks are the prime target.

As a former New York City leftist, I can assure you that the bars of the Big Apple will fill up tonight with white, self-hating, small-town transplants who will mock cornballs like us to feel better about themselves.

I was drinking in a hipster bar in Brooklyn and actually had a comedian — a devout leftist and a product of the 1% — try to tell me we were “more sophisticated” than people in Kalamazoo, Mich. I reminded him the only difference is we are paying $5 for a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon and the “rubes” he was attacking were paying $1.50.

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FACT-O-RAMA! People are defined by their actions, not their area codes or how much they pay for beer.

The psychology is simple: liberal self-haters need to feel better than some other group — and New York City is a magnet for these types.

PSYCH-O-RAMA! If someone leaves a trailer park in Toledo to move to NYC, you can rest assured that same person — who now feels better about himself — will take a verbal dump on the “white trash” neighbors who were kind enough to feed his pet raccoon when he went to Deltona, Fla., for the weekend to puff meth and rip off his shirt at the tractor-pulls.

Rich or poor, leftists seem to suffer from a scorching degree of self-loathing, and they need a target.

The truth is, the namby-pamby leftists need We the People for a reason other than as hate targets. They need us to protect them from the commie utopia they think the world would be if all of us bogeymen would just kindly kill ourselves.

Mark Steyn hilariously pointed this out in his 2006 book America Alone: The End of the World As We Know It.

Steyn wrote:

New Hampshire has a high rate of firearms possession, which is why it has a low crime rate. You don’t have to own a gun, and there are plenty of sissy arms-are-for-hugging granola crunchers who don’t. But they benefit from the fact that their crazy, stump-toothed knuckle-dragging neighbors do. If you want to burgle a home in the Granite State, you’d have to be awfully certain it was the one-in-a-hundred. We are the world panty-waist pads and not some plaid-clad gun nut who’ll blow your head off before you lay a hand on his seventy-dollar TV. A North Country non-gun owner might tire of all the Second Amendment kooks with the gun racks in the pickups and move somewhere where everyone is, at least officially, a non-gun owner just like him: Washington D.C., say, or London. And suddenly he finds that, in a wholly disarmed society, his house requires burglar alarms and window locks and security cameras.

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Steyn tried to warn the libs that their idea of a leftist Shangri-la will ultimately lead to their erasure, but commies gonna commie. Big blue cities rang in 2023 as the fourth year of record crime carnage. As of this writing, the U.S. has seen 52 mass shootings, many of which are in all the usual places: Oakland, Calif., L.A., Philly, etc.

Chicago has already seen 206 people ventilated and 43 redrums.

#BustAMove

More importantly — to me anyway — are the 95 defensive shootings. “Good guy with a gun” stories make me chortle. But then again, I’m Detroit white trash, not one of those “virtuous,” gun-hating, “sit-and-watch-while-you-rape-my-family” types.

I’d suggest the libs will come running to hicksville and kiss the back ends of our deer-bloodied Wranglers when they are tired of getting shot, robbed, and raped in their commie nirvana, but it won’t happen. They’d rather surrender their rights, gas-fueled cars, and testicles than come to us for help

Not to mention, how can they flee the crime spree they created when part of their superiority requires being too “PC” even to admit it’s happening?

Related: Call Your Local ‘Diversity, Equity and Inclusion’ Council What it Really Is: Commie Thought Police

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Also, leftists will do as they are told. When Xi Jinping tells them to heat up their grasshopper casserole leftovers on an electric stove, a cowardly leftist will obey.

I can only hope the wafting aroma of my BBQ pit reaches their obedient nostrils and makes them long for a peace treaty with We the Peckerwoods. I want them to come crawling to me, MAGA hat in hand, as though I’m their trailer-trash cousin who just hit the lotto and they are broke methheads, fiending for a booty bump.

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