Groyper War IV: More Tales from the Front
My dearly beloved, I am losing hope. All may be lost
My darling satanic vixen:
Oh, how I long for the touch of your botoxic lips upon my person. I look around me, and it seems everything is torn asunder. Where to begin? Our woes pile up like the excrement oozing out of what’s left of our gold-plated combat headquarters, a quarter of which was destroyed by our Dear Leader in a fit of pique.
Our forces have been routed from Chicago, and I’m sorry to report that the battle for Chicago wasn’t even close. We never stood a chance against the dark-skinned heathens who kicked us aside like we were but gimpy rats crawling out of the nether regions of a Nordic troll.
We were truly helpless against their advanced weaponry.
How does one even contemplate taking battle against an enemy equipped with high-tech sonic weapons? And we all know who supplied their weaponry, don’t we, my relentlessly zealous cuck puppet?
As if our forces being driven out by an enemy supplied with superior Chinese weaponry isn’t enough, this past week saw the defection of one of our most reliable partners, the imimitable and indefatigable (we thought) Marjorie Taylor Greene, who is, like a traitorous parrot, suddenly bothered by all that we stand for.
It is as if collecting children is now verboten! I’m flabbergasted by this turn of events. What was once one of our greatest subterfuges in this battle for our great but wounded nation has been turned against us. PizzaGate is now EpsteinGate, and my darling, we are reeling from the whiplash.
Remember that illustrious moment when a lone brave warrior made an advance on Comet Ping Pong, that dark corner of Washington D.C. that hides children in pizza ovens and delivers them, made to order, to Hillary Clinton?
What a grand moment that was. Such bravery, which led to Frazzledrip, which led… oh my sweet enforcer of cunninglingual abstinence, I can’t go on. The memories of those early victories are now but painful reminders of our current miseries. Or perhaps I mean mini-series. Good God in heaven, my love, I’m so confused.
But perhaps I can find it within me to somehow soldier on and remember how our brave warrior blew open the storage door at Comet Ping Pong to seek out the truth. It’s true: He came up empty, but sometimes it’s the search for truth that matters most. We must never forget that.
I’m not sure what has turned General Greene against us, my poisoned pet. Never once did she utter a word ten years prior to Traitor Day (aka CNN appearance) that she was alarmed by our bold leader’s occasional daily dalliances with the great financier Epstein.
It’s true. Epstein’s billion-dollar empire sold children in full view of the once bold general for decades with nary a whimper from her or her stable of opportunists. But that billion-dollar empire funded many great things for our cause. If it was such a problem, where were the whiners then, my love? Decades of documented sales, and now this?
No, my sweet, carnivorous, and voluptuous cobra, something else is at play here. Once bedazzled by our great leader, she is now an enemy. I have no words.
Meanwhile, dare I report this next round of bad news? Our great leader is himself in a state of disarray. As you know, my luscious, mascara-slathered vamp, our hero is befuddled by this craziest of Democratic hoaxes, which aims to put our dear leader in the crosshairs of those in the Republican Party who have mysteriously changed their minds towards all things Epstein.
But trust me on this, he has a plan. He, being the most brilliant commando of commando pants the world has ever known, has tricked the enemy once again, much as he does with his brilliant tariff policy. One way today, the other way tomorrow! The enemy becomes unmoored by the daily changes of direction. Such a brilliant strategy!
And his post announcing this misdirection was equally brilliant:
“The House Oversight Committee can have whatever they are legally entitled to, I don’t care.”
Ha ha! They’re not legally entitled to anything! Game, set, match!
When I read that, my heart rose like a… well, I needn’t turn this into an erotic love letter, my darling. Especially since we have not had intimate relations at all during these last two decades. I’d hate to get you worked up! LOL!
But truth be told, the war is dragging our dear leader down, too. He destroyed Melania’s living quarters in a rage, using backhoes and other construction equipment to tear down the entire East Wing of the White House. Her refusal to provide vital carnal services has proven costly. I do hope you’ll keep this in mind as you consider your own reflections upon our somewhat staid relationship.
Our forces, tattered and broken by the Chicago chicanery, now move on to the heathen stronghold of Charlotte. The vast left-wing and communist media have already urged gullible food stamp thieves there into the streets to take the battle to us.
Our great general, Oberführer Bovino, has provisioned our mighty warriors there with night vision goggles, flak jackets, and enough heavy weapons to combat the most advanced sonic weaponry the enemy can wield. Will it be enough? The enemy seems to have new life. They seem to actually enjoy forcing us back into our vehicles and watching us high-tail it out of neighborhoods that by all rights are ours.
I fear a repeat of the Chicago debacle, made worse by the fact that our latest assault takes place in the South, where allies should be abundant. So far, our enemies in Charlotte haven’t been supplied with sonic weapons, but we can be sure that forces from Chicago will make an appearance soon and distribute these foul weapons of mass destruction.
The lone bright spot in this unmitigated disaster has been the Groyper leader’s appearance on Tucker Carlson’s podcast. Nick, always the bold poster child of what some of us fondly call the Vanilla Movement, has gained traction in the mainstream media, which, as you know, my sweet honeytrap, would support a nuclear strike on D.C. if they thought it could sell an ad.
“Nick Fuentes!” The media is blaring his name like the great champion of white rights that he is. It won’t be long now until all non-white history is banished from the planet, even if we must experience temporary setbacks to achieve the larger victory that awaits us.
If you detect a mood change during the course of this letter, my lascivious little love canal, yes, it changes as I concoct my prose to you and think about my most recent meeting with Nick, who very nearly gave me the go-ahead to seek sexual relief if I keep proving myself to his cause.
He assures me that your refusal to make yourself available to me during these last decades is no cause for alarm and that, besides, a true warrior abstains in the heat of battle.
Who am I to argue? I am but a pawn in a game between chess masters. I yield the floor.
I pray that you wish me luck in Charlotte, my love, and that you won’t forget me. I will continue to trust that you have been too busy to answer my last 127 letters to you. God, how I appreciate your devotion to the cause to the point that you don’t let human relationships interfere with the great accomplishments of history.
That is all I have for now, my sweet hornet of hate. Please do stay well, and avoid the traitorous Greene movement if you can.
All my love,
~ Nicky Jr.
Notes:
My regular readers will recognize this as satire.
Hopefully, the rest of you will, too. If you don’t, who can blame you?
They’ve ruined satire, pretty much.
You hit every target, Charles! They all deserve to be behind bars, and hopefully the day will come when they are.
It's true, they've ruined satire but you managed this classic...my vote would be for more of the same, you're just so good...big ask these days, many thanks for this one