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Lost White Nationalist Really Wishes He Had Something Better Than A Burning Torch To See By

torched
“As an attention getter it can’t be beat,” said white nationalist Mac Asswards late last night in Charlottesville, Virginia, as he fumbled around in a thicket of bushes on the outskirts of the usually genial town, trying to find his way home by the glow of his giant, one-lumen candle, “But as a light source it is absolute shite.” 

While his white brethren of like-minded men marched on towards the UVA campus to protest not getting as much attention from the police, or any significant airtime on BET, Mac stepped off the road to urinate in the bushes. When he returned to the path he found the torch-bearing train of misplaced resentment had rounded a bend, and he was now all alone, accompanied only by his anger. Which was, of course, the very thing he had been protesting all along. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, possibly rolling his eyes in the flickering shadows of his citronella tiki torch ($4.99 at Walmart if you use the promo code: Back To Skool), “I get it. You’re saying that my torch, as an antiquated and inefficient tool for seeing, is a metaphor for my worldview: archaic, wasteful, dangerous, and totally unnecessary.”

Here Mac paused to scream obscenities at a log he had just kicked in the darkness, stubbing his big toe and bringing hot tears to his bearded cheeks. When the swearing died down and a visiting reporter had sung him an a cappella version of Ooh Child, Mr. Asswards finally responded with his thoughts on the glaring metaphor his torch – and current ‘lost’ status – presented.

“Well. I have to admit, it is a little hard to argue with you there. Tell you what. Help me work out where the hell I am and I’ll listen to what you have to say about all that equality shit. Just please get me the hell out of here. These goddamn mosquitos are eating me alive.”

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