As whites see their power and control over their lives declining, will they simply go quietly into the night? Or will there be an explosion? — John Tanton Copy Share Image
“All around the smell of that necro-smoke, that nether-weed. And up and at the hedonist impulse, rejoice, rejoice, in the disconnect my pretty things, fly monkeys, fly! The hip chick in the back, her legs uncrossed to let in air… — Benjamin R. Smith Copy Share Image
