AI is pleased to announce that we will be traveling around Europe for the next two months. Our goal is to provide first-hand reporting on the ‘refugee’ crisis. As the summer heats up, the vapors are sure to infuse the animal spirits of our third-worlder nemeses. With any luck, we will be able to document it all for you. If, on the other hand, there is nothing wrong, Europe is fine, and no caliphate is imminent, we will be sure to inform you alt-righters to calm the fuck down and go back to your maturbatoria. We’re not holding our breath (even if you guys are). So it is with great excitement that we inaugurateÂ The 2016 Pan-European Summer Race-Tour.
Think of it as a postmodern crusade. In Chaucer’s day, a young aristocrat would lay out his steel-plate panoply, line up a couple barrels of bordeaux, and board the next boat to Lithuania to smash some Christianity into those proto-Indo-European linguistic bumpkins. But today, your typical warrior of God packs a go-ruck with a stack of underwear, a wad of charging cables and caffeine pills. He then sets out to smash the red-pill into the cuddly natives before they catch AIDS from theÂ Skinnies.
My immersion in the battlespace was swift. Â As soon as I walked off my plane into Stockholm’s Arlanda Airport, I spotted signs of the Decay. At first, I was a bit dazed at my surroundings–Arlanda is a mix of IKEA and a shopping mall at Christmastime. Everything seemed to glow in multi-colored lights. Maybe it was because I was hungry. I had not eaten since my bedtime vodka-tonic with melatonin Â on the flight. SoÂ I bought a banana and a twist-pastry at 7-11 and sat down to soak it all in. Of course, thenÂ I noticed that the people were multi-colored too.
Almost as soon as I sat down, a blond Swedess took the table in front of me. In toe was her straight-haired, toffee-skinned toddler. I let out an exhausted eyeroll and shot back some coffee, too jet-lagged to care about racial hygiene for the moment. After all, this is what I came here for. I took another bite of my lame biscuit (a loaf-shaped pretzel, duplicitously laced with raspberry jelly), and tried to think about how I would get downtown.
But then things got diverse. The blonde’s blond friend showed up with her kid. Ooo, a playdate! And a perfect pairing, because the new child was also blue-eyed and toffee-skinned. Triggering, but not enough to overcome my brain’s preoccupation with its own functioning.Â The women weren’t really all that attractive anyway. (Don’t worry goys, next time I’ll get pics.) This being my first time in Scandinavia, I expected Uma Thurmans everywhere. Â I don’t remember how, but eventually the mothers and their mischlings left me to fret about more immediate concerns.
Despite this little episode, I have so far been underwhelmed. Sweden is not in meltdown. I am not worried about frags crashing through my window tonight. Compared to what I am used to, things seem to be under control. Stockholm is beautiful–the old town looks like it has changed little since the early 18th century. Sweden skipped out on the last few wars, so it has not been repeatedly rebuilt, like other European cities of similar antiquity. Most Old Swedes seem just like SWPLs in the US. They carry on with their own kind, only having to ignore the gypsies on the street-corners and outside the supermarkets. No wonder the slow death of the West is only understandable in the abstract.
As the summer goes on, AI will bring you more sketches of Euro-life. If all goes according to plan, we’ll have stories of more than just encounters with post-modern tedium a la Camus.