Firebrand

Nanga nanga... nanga nanga... down in Nangarhar province... where a Thing can really breathe easy... easily living... amongst the rocks and stones and mountains of dust, in a manner of speaking... the assault rifles squirt their bilious rage in flashes all through the sleepless night... wandering through the viscous humidity of the pitch-black darkness... more Muslim Islam, please... artificial light is for the cowardly Western dog, the fa***t infidel... they'll vote in an openly gay married White man soon... worse than the smooth sleek ni***r with weak foreign policy... down in nanga nanga... Nangarhar province...


Are we existing here?... I can't see my hand an inch in front of my face... praise Allah!... God is great!... and other cliche imperative statements passionately delivered... I really sell it when I say it... swooning with sincerity... here in nanga nanga... we'll go down into that village just before dawn... (which village?)... THAT! village right there... and rape and kill everything that walks on two feet... bipeds... bipedal Homo sapiens... and the beheadings!... O! the beheadings on the log... my YouTube subscribers will soar... as the hot sands drink in the blood of the weeping praying peasants greedily... insatiably.

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