Announcement

**Jim Floyd** · 06-29-2010, 03:21 AM

Senators and other Pusipolicatroons

Senators and other Pussipolicatroons
by Jim Floyd
January 21, 2001

http://whitenationalist.org/forum/sh...ted=1#post2267
http://stumbleinn.net/forum/showthre...d=1#post274070
http://www.thebeerbarrel.net/showthr...=8384#post8384
http://www.occidentaldissent.com/for...ted=1#post2810
http://www.originaldissent.com/forum...ed=1#post93032
http://cjcc-an.blogspot.com/2010/06/...icatroons.html

Oh, pity the poor street-walker, pity the poor child-molester, but it could be worse, they could be Senators.

This deals with madness. My madness versus the White-man's primordial, self-destructive madness. And is dedicated to all our naive friends who somehow still hold the belief that there is a political answer.

"Save a place for me," sings Colon Powell. He's not singing about my White children.

Also, the new Sec. of Education knows and talks only of the needs of the hoods in the hood. He don't know or seem to care jack- squat about my children.

Bush keeps saying "...every child," a code phrase for blacks and others of color. He wants America to be like Mexican Texas.

Texas sucks!

Theres a black from BETV telling blacks to "think black, buy black, hire only black."

There is no end to it and there is no one who dares speak-out for me and my precious White babies. However, there is a litmus test that makes so-called Christians cower and makes saprophytes of weak white politicians.

White philosophies, liberties, heritage and culture lie putridly rotting and are being openly devoured on a sacrificial altar by a new and hungrier strain of bacillus.

And I'm mad! No. I'm not just appalled. I'm not just mad. I'm maniacally mad!

===============

Sam Clemens, you told Pudd'n-head Floyd, "When angry, count four; when very angry swear." What sort of counsel is this?

And you Shakespeare, you lying bastard, you said there was a noble anger, "Touch me with noble anger," you said in Lear. They ain't no such thing as a noble anger! There is only an overwhelming madness, an unrelenting, omnipresent madness. How dare ye, giving noble title to this damnable, would-be, dame.

Oh brothers and sisters, I done sinned, the Jesse-sin, again! I've had the same mistress for years and she served me well. Her name was "Humor" and she was beautiful. Ahh, but lately, I've been bed-hopping like a civil rights leader and I've taken-up with a strumpet named, Anger, and she's bad ugly. Oh, woe is me! And that ain't all, she gave me the MWD, mad writer's disease.

Can you see it, dear hearts? Old Jim, and his new love watching the TV. Me in my hip-boots, I always wear hip-boots when watching the boob, and Miss Anger pointing-out every anti-White word and deed. Wait a minute, the Hate Whitey Caucus is walking out of the House of Representatives. No Gertrude, I didn't call them house niggers. The house niggers were the whites who sat there and clapped for 'um!

Pusillanimous politicians, polecats, poltroons, begorra, they are pussipolicatroons! (puss-i-pol-i-ca-troon), n.

Ohhh no, there's Al Gore kissing Maxine Waters! You gotta be a devout pusipolicatroon to kiss Maxine!

Oh, looky looky, here comes the Senate Judiciary Committee! Why is all of 'um gots a black sitting right behind 'um? Is this bad theater or what? Even Alabama's Jef Sessions done got him a token black. Little Jef learnt his lesson almost two decades ago when some of these same rapscallions denied him a judgeship because of his racism. Since then he don't even talk to folks like me and he quit running-off into a corner with the Counsel of Conservative Citizens whispering "nigger, nigger, nigger."

No, no, he is now a real, genuine pussipolicatroon!

Hey, there's Strom Thurman, our old Dixiecrat darling. Who could forget the young Strom? I hear him as clearly as if it were yesterday;
.

"I don't understand what these people are complaining about, why, our niggers is better-off than most anybody's niggers.

"They got washing machines and some of 'um even got televisions."

.

Now, old Strom, the New South Strom, sits there looking like he was the one who kissed Maxine. You've come a long way, Stromey baby.

Sometimes I doze-off when I watch C-span. I dream dreams and see visions. There was a time when I dreamed of pretty girls, sailboats, sandy beaches, and Chevis Regal Scotch, but not now.

Yesterday, I had a demented dream of the Confirmation Hearings and it went like this;

A funny thing happened, on the way to the fiery furnace. Nebucadnezza had his band playing at full volume. There was Ms. Maxine Waters on harp, Ms. Sheila Jackson Lee on the flute, Charlie Schumer on the sackbut, Teddy Kennedy psaltery, and an accompaniment of skillet-licking preachers and crotch- licking lesbos adding to the din.
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego and Ashcroft was on they way to the fiery furnace. The mean old Chaldeans had come from everywhere to testify against 'um. But these four, immovable in their convictions, faithful in they friendships, refused to bow-down and kowtow to these propagandist of politically correct worship.

But wait! For some unfathomable reason Ashcroft separated himself from the others and told old king Nebe that they could work together.

Bless God and Daniel, them flames got hot and hotter, and as they did, Ashcroft became more malleable and moldable.

The heat was so great, brothers and sisters, that it done burnt the Bob Jones out-of that son of a bitch! Why, it even scorched his pro-life profile and incinerated the second amendment slap-out of his blistered brain.

I awoke just in time to hear Senator Sessions say; "Some folks don't believe John Ashcroft can set aside his beliefs and enforce the law, but he can."

Sweet Lord, I really wanted to like the man, John Ashcroft, he looks so much like Red Rider. Back in the forty's I'd take me dime to the Bug-house (Fairview) theater on Memorial Drive and watch Red Rider and his faithful companion, Little Beaver. They slept under the cotton- wood trees and rode into town endowed with unwavering convictions of what was right and what was wrong. Begorra, you could depend on Red!

Why, it would have been unthinkable for him to side with the bad guys and turn around and shoot Beaver. I knew Red Rider and Ashcroft ain't no Red Rider. He's just another pussipolicatroon!

I'm a'waiting for a cock to crow three times and I hope they televise it.

Well fellow sufferers, this article is already too long, but in order to give full expression to my madness I must tell you about Caesar and George Wallace.

George Wallace, our great White hope, sat on the steps of the State House and cried real tears after losing the governor's race to James Patterson, a starch segregationist. He sobbed-out one clear statement;

"Nobody will ever out-nigger me, again."

Well, well, swing pendulum swing! This vulgar term is still alive and well, however, it now has the diametrical, opposite meaning. We see it and hear it all the live-long-day. A White pussipolicatroon who wishes to get into or remain in government must hate his Whiteness, abhor his culture, accurse his ancestors and say to the world, as George Wallace later said to the New South Democrats;

"I may be White but inside, my heart's as black as any of ya'lls."

.

Wallace "out-niggered" them all. From his orchestrated stand in the school house door to his last tear of repentance, he out niggered them all. He was,after all, a pusipolicatroon.

And finally, there was Caesar.

Some of you ding-bats have said, "Bush would never do what Gore has done." Well, let us look at one of the world's greatest politicians, perhaps, you will change your mind about the limits of pussipolicatroonism.

Caesar the politician, on the road to the Senate, and at the tender age of fourteen, got the Jupiter religion. Friends of his Uncle Marius arranged for him to be made a priest of the Sacred College of Jupiter. He hated it but suffered through it because it put god on his resume.

The doors began to open and he obtained an appointment as an officer and aide-de-camp to Marcus Thermus in Asia (Asia Minor). Then came his first mission.

The Romans laid siege to Mytilene on the isle of Lesbo and they were in dire need of ships. Caesar was dispatched to Bithynia to persuade King Nicomedes to make his fleet available to the Romans.

Caesar the religious man, later the distinguished Senator, got them ships, but at a price. Nicomedes was queer and offered a quid pro quo deal.

Caesar the politician sailed away a little queer himself and awfully sore.

But he did whatever it took to get what he wanted.

When I look at this mangy, scabby, disgusting bunch of parliamentary whores that we call our Senate, I can't help but think of old Caesar, one of the first pussipolicatroons.

I'm still mad!

Quem Jupiter vult perdere, dementat prius.

Jim Floyd
27 January 2001

**PastorLindstedt** · 06-29-2010, 04:55 AM

Jim Floyd is still alive

Jim Floyd is still alive

http://whitenationalist.org/forum/sh...=2268#post2268
http://stumbleinn.net/forum/showthre...d=1#post274074
http://www.occidentaldissent.com/for...=2811#post2811
http://www.thebeerbarrel.net/showthr...ted=1#post8385
http://www.originaldissent.com/forum...ed=1#post93033
http://cjcc-an.blogspot.com/2010/06/...ill-alive.html

Originally posted by JA Whiteman

http://stumbleinn.net/forum/showthre...d=1#post274073

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have enjoyed Mr. Floyd's writings and also hearing him on short wave and early internet patriot shows. He truly has a brave heart and a great sense of humor.

I know that you are fairly close to Jim. How is he doing these days? I know he is getting on in years. May Yah take good care of James Floyd. He has eloquently and defiantly spoken out against the jew for years and has paid a price. I have much respect for him, an old warrior for YHVH.

Three years ago, in late June, and on the Forth of jew-lie, my old friend Jim Floyd nearly died of chemotherapy complications when I was locked up with the convicted criminals on Biggs Ward B-6. He had had surgery for lung cancer and then was taking chemotherapy in order to cut what was left. Unknown at the time, he didn't have cancer left, but the chemo was nearly killing him. He would be at his strongest the day before the chemo-'therapy' and then nearly dead a day or so after the 'treatments.'

Jim Floyd was one of my five stalwards who stuck by me in my hours and days and weeks and years of imprisonment without trial because of my impertinence to the Missery ZOG-korts because I wouldn't roll over and accept a pub[l]ic pretender to sell me out and would contest the railroad. One died last December -- of lung cancer from smoking -- Richard J. Doyle, who I ran for Newton County Judge against the faggot jewdge Gregory Stremel, who was the one who wrote up the bogus arrest warrant and set a $100,000 cash bond that I couldn't make.

So Jim has good days and bad days and I make it a point to tell him all the gossip within the bowel Movement every single weekend. He asks me to pray for him and I tell him that I pray for him by name after I thank YHWH for getting me out of the jail and NutHouse, for not being railroaded to prison and murdered there as the local and state regime criminals planned; and I pray for the grandchildren to return to me and Roxie and for them to be healthy and happy and to resist becummin dirty stupid whiggers in the whigger processing plant, and then I pray for my Stalwarts. Then I pray that all the ZOGling whiggers and jews and niggers and beaners and muds & cruds and theys' spawn all be sent screaming to hell in the Great Tribulation, as planned, Rev. 6:9-17.

I also said that in addition to praying that Jim Floyd continues to live, that that senile old rat TraitorGlenn Miller and the gut-sick guido-weasel with jew ass-cancer will die agonizing deaths as dogs before Jim dies as a hero. It makes for a good smooth transition between praying for my Stalwarts and cursing the ZOGlings.

Around a month ago I was gloating that TraitorGlenn Miller's liver spots seemed to be growing and co[o]nnecting-up like Gorbachev's birthmark to where the drunken cowardly rat is turning browner and speculated that the old senile drunken anglo-mestizo's liver may be on the verge of revolt and saying that enough was enough. Yes, if Sgt. Snitch dies of liver failure then the Resistance might never get to skin the old rat alive, but with proper pickling, I'm sure that the pelt can be saved.

So I'm thinking that Jim Floyd might survive until this winter. He has made his three-score-and-ten by three years over already.

I'll tell him that a number of people asked as to his health.

Hail Victory!!!

Pastor Martin Luther Dzerzhinsky Lindstedt
Church of Jesus Christ Christian/Aryan Nations of Missouri
http://whitenationalist.org/forum

Announcement

Exalted Grand Cyclops Croaks Off Today

Exalted Grand Cyclops Croaks Off Today

Comment

Comment