Those 'Dead Americans' in the Cali-Fate of Feckless Funk

With a modicum of sociological parsing, can anyone doubt that the gangsta rappers and career losers bouncing to Syria and IS "to fight" for these beasts of intransigent death are really after:

1. a baad-daddy figure they lack back in Manchester and Chicago;

2. extension of their puny testicular configuration and uncommendable prowess by wielding scimitars and stripped rifles instead of normal embraces with apt partners; and

3. 150% pure bravado for additional street cred, since they dismiss entirely the obvious likelihood that their egregious mental disorder, pathetic absence of World Hist. or Global Civ. 2.0 and confused mentition will get them slammo'ed into the 6th dimension without a virgin [or raisin, as more than a few scholars have opined; by this reckoning, I have died and gone to Heaven numerous times without a flak-jacket each month, since I consume  dozens of the wrinkly shrunken grapes daily, surely an inverted mixed-message and/or blessing if they are supposed to be consecrated to desiccated bits of muslim flesh ascending to Akhbarhood without their contiguous essential organs) to call their very own?

4. if more of these deadbeats leave their senses on the privilege-parched fields of Iraq or Syria, can our celebration of nonproductive public assistance, entitlements and welfare recipients are out of our roster for drainage and suckage be far behind? Provided the greater mass of these cretinous ingrates remain on the drone-dredge-edge of knuckle-dragger nudnikville, aren’t we well rid of them?

Ours but to ensure they stay over there, so long as their privileged passports stay safely blown to smithereens. Along with their dim lowered IQs.
End rave.


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