The bone chilling murmurings of some block-headed ogre in a suit, and a indistinguishably generic middle-aged blonde woman begin roaring into life from the speakers of a cattycornered television nestled away in a room with an intensely dark and depressing ambiance:

"The Fox-News Decision Desk can now project that former Vice President Joe Biden will win Pennsylvania and Nevada putting him over the 270 electoral votes he needs to become the 46th President of the United States."

"Donald Trump, the 45th President, who has stated during this process he will never stop fighting for you..."

From their climax, the voices on the broadcast slowly become less and less discernable,

"...and our nation, will be denied a second term."

before finally fading into nothing more than white noise.

Across the walls of the room that are faintly lit by the shadowy sputtering of glare from the television rests a multitude of gaudily displayed indicators of cynical political obsession: a large electoral map of the Untied States covered in posted notes, a crookedly hung portrait of Donald Trump, various newspaper clippings, anti-Semitic and racial slurs written on the paint in permanent marker, 'Thin Blue Line' and 'Don't Tread on Me' flags.

Just beyond a smoldering black hole in the carpet, in the corner opposite the television sits the Holy Roman War Horse, donning his internet-famed horse mask just before we can get a look at his face. Wearing only a pair of piss stained dingy underwear, his sickly pale and frail frame rocks back and forth frantically on the floor.

Amidst hearing the splattering sounds of his aggressive sobbing, and what one could imagine is much-like a rabid foaming from the mouth, you'd have to wonder just how deeply infested with rot his mind has become. To what lengths was Edwin Moffett now willing to go to express his imaginary victimhood? How could he now reshape everything he'd been conveying to his listeners over the last few months? Their god, the imbecile they'd dressed as some Machiavellian steward in the fomenting of their culture wars had been defeated.

How could Edwin chalk this up to anything other than an utter failure by the man he had been espousing as the second coming of a White Reich? How much did Edwin even believe this nonsense as opposed to simply assuming a consecutive term in the White House was an inevitability? All of his future planned content, his non sequitur stories of Q’s ascension, it had all been washed down the drain, or rather; mailed in to his contrary on millions of ballots.

What was next?












Reactionary melodrama incarnate...

This battle may have been for naught, folks, but the war I assure you, it rages on. It rages with the roar of a thousand generations echoing through the epochs!

He shouts while standing to his feet, his filthy underwear sagging off from his slender waist,

This one was on me.

I’m sure you all remember it like a hot soldering iron to the eye, my failure several weeks ago. Being toppled on national television by that HIV infested slug, Peter Gilmour on Wednesday Warfare. My plan was simple: win the match, grab the mic, and proclaim that President Donald J. Trump had inspired the blueprint to my victory, thus ushering in a new era of Western influenced austerity over that that god-forsaken company!

But instead I bled out in embarrassment, and those multicultural animals in the stands, they looked down on our movement with futility and contempt. And wouldn't you know it? A few weeks later another leftist homosexual claimed the top prize in the XWF!

Like a young Joe Biden!

If we continue to sit back and let that federation further itself as the epicenter of sports entertainment and cultural influence, it'll only be a matter of time until we're all living in a series genderless nudist syndicalist collectives. And those who dare have a difference of opinion? Or an original thought? We'll be dragged to the gulags and and beaten into reprogramming.

Well I say give me death, brethren! I alone will enter the lion's den on our behalves and take the final stand in the name of Western Civilization, our history, our culture and see to it personally that we begin our ascension again where we will remain until the sky closes overtop of all time!

But I'll need your help...

And here it comes again, like an 'end times' televangelist. The new grift.

It's my plan to hire the best hand-to-hand combat trainer in the world. One practiced in ancient Macedonian battle tactics. But of course, in the spirit of our unwavering adoration and loyalty to the free market, we know that this will come at a hefty price...

Within a matter of seconds, thousands of dollars begin pouring in through Super Chat on the Holy Roman War Horse's Youtube stream.

Anarchy...

That's precisely the problem.

A show entitled Anarchy with a revolving door of lesbians being immortalized as champions.

Well next Thursday I'm going to stop the next bull-dyke in line to infect our culture. A big black bitch named Nemesis. They thought Breonna Taylor was a tragedy? Just wait to taste the leftist cuck tears as I choke the life out of her on live television. With the help of you my Calvary, I will destroy this godless Anarchy program and in a matter of no time will establish our own brand of Monarchy for the world to see!

So don't forget to slap that like button, select any of my six packages on Patreon for exclusive Calvary Content, and if you haven't already, hit subscribe so you I can keep you up to date on our war against these insane totalitarian reactionary snowflake leftists! This is our culture! And it's time we take it back!

The shift of the grift was complete.