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I shudder to address such august company -- but after perusing this forum last night, I noticed that there are many other sinners here, and I can see how everyone from Landover Baptist treats each of them with the kindness and sensitivity they deserve.
A sinner, I recognize sin -- I was born in America to immigrant parents and raised in a partly atheist, partly pagan family of Godless communists. I quickly succumbed to Babylonish abominations -- you might say that I imbibed vodka with my mother's milk.
My mother read nihilistic poetry to me in the crib. Ah, Joan of Arc (that braless lesbian): Je suis une bête, un nègre. Mais je puis être sauvé. Vous êtes de faux nègres, vous maniaques, féroces, avares. Marchand, tu es nègre ; magistrat, tu es nègre ; général, tu es nègre ; empereur, vieille démangeaison, tu es nègre : tu as bu d'une liqueur non taxée, de la fabrique de Satan.
By the age of six I was painting my toenails black and listening to Joy Division. I ended up in Scandinavia, where I live now. It's very dark -- and that's not just because of the time of year.
Now that I got the Internets, I began to seek the truth -- looking to America, of course. But I fear it is too late. My dog speaks to me -- sings, actually -- just like the dog that lived next to the Son of Sam. I call him the Sin of Same, though I think he is a mouthpiece of Magnum Innominandum. (I know that David Berkowitz has found Jesus in prison, but he is not a member of Landover and is anyway a Joo.)
When I look about in these fora and see lost souls like Meserti, I know what awaits them (note that she's already in England, closer to Europe and the cesspools of iniquity... this is clearly a consequence of her capital-A Art, by which she doubtless means the Black Arts). Then there's that milksop from California trying to shut the site down -- I know where sentiments like his lead: to disarmament and buggery and the "peace, love and understanding" so-called I see all around me here in Scandinavia.
Do you realize, for instance, that nearly half of the members of the Swedish parliament are women? (That's women, not wymmin like the milksop spells them -- women, like womb and men.) That spanking has been forbidden here since 1979? As a result, only one child died at the hands of its parents between 1980 and 1996 -- the Swedes have suffered many a demon baby to live, in other words, and we can see the consequences all around us.
Stanley Kurtz in The Weekly Standard: "Sixty percent of first-born children in Denmark have unmarried parents. Not coincidentally, these countries have had something close to full gay marriage for a decade or more."
Living here is like living in hell -- which is where I belong. It all started with French poetry, H.P. Lovecraft, Swedenborg, pink pajamas and black clothing. Girls like Meserti dabble in darkness, and "liberals" talk about "tolerance" -- but what they are really doing is the Devil's work.
I cannot aspire to Landover because I am so unclean. I wash and I wash, but the seed of the Devil and his minions keeps oozing from my crotch.
When I am not as drunk as the alchemist Strindberg and my better instincts are not drowned out by demons from Hell, however, I shall try to help warn some of the sinners here away from a Scandinavia of the mind and towards the elders of Landover.
Sincerely,
Magnus
A sinner, I recognize sin -- I was born in America to immigrant parents and raised in a partly atheist, partly pagan family of Godless communists. I quickly succumbed to Babylonish abominations -- you might say that I imbibed vodka with my mother's milk.
My mother read nihilistic poetry to me in the crib. Ah, Joan of Arc (that braless lesbian): Je suis une bête, un nègre. Mais je puis être sauvé. Vous êtes de faux nègres, vous maniaques, féroces, avares. Marchand, tu es nègre ; magistrat, tu es nègre ; général, tu es nègre ; empereur, vieille démangeaison, tu es nègre : tu as bu d'une liqueur non taxée, de la fabrique de Satan.
By the age of six I was painting my toenails black and listening to Joy Division. I ended up in Scandinavia, where I live now. It's very dark -- and that's not just because of the time of year.
Now that I got the Internets, I began to seek the truth -- looking to America, of course. But I fear it is too late. My dog speaks to me -- sings, actually -- just like the dog that lived next to the Son of Sam. I call him the Sin of Same, though I think he is a mouthpiece of Magnum Innominandum. (I know that David Berkowitz has found Jesus in prison, but he is not a member of Landover and is anyway a Joo.)
When I look about in these fora and see lost souls like Meserti, I know what awaits them (note that she's already in England, closer to Europe and the cesspools of iniquity... this is clearly a consequence of her capital-A Art, by which she doubtless means the Black Arts). Then there's that milksop from California trying to shut the site down -- I know where sentiments like his lead: to disarmament and buggery and the "peace, love and understanding" so-called I see all around me here in Scandinavia.
Do you realize, for instance, that nearly half of the members of the Swedish parliament are women? (That's women, not wymmin like the milksop spells them -- women, like womb and men.) That spanking has been forbidden here since 1979? As a result, only one child died at the hands of its parents between 1980 and 1996 -- the Swedes have suffered many a demon baby to live, in other words, and we can see the consequences all around us.
Stanley Kurtz in The Weekly Standard: "Sixty percent of first-born children in Denmark have unmarried parents. Not coincidentally, these countries have had something close to full gay marriage for a decade or more."
Living here is like living in hell -- which is where I belong. It all started with French poetry, H.P. Lovecraft, Swedenborg, pink pajamas and black clothing. Girls like Meserti dabble in darkness, and "liberals" talk about "tolerance" -- but what they are really doing is the Devil's work.
I cannot aspire to Landover because I am so unclean. I wash and I wash, but the seed of the Devil and his minions keeps oozing from my crotch.
When I am not as drunk as the alchemist Strindberg and my better instincts are not drowned out by demons from Hell, however, I shall try to help warn some of the sinners here away from a Scandinavia of the mind and towards the elders of Landover.
Sincerely,
Magnus
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