Police Raid on Boone’s Mill Church of Biden exposes Satanic Democrat Child Trafficking Ring

The Satanic Church of Biden, in Boones Mill, Virginia

BOONE’S MILL, VIRGINIA — Police drew a thin blue line across Boone’s Mill, early Friday Morning, as they raided the Boone’s Mill Church of Biden. Minister Whitey Teylor, who presided over a Satanic rape baptism in honor of President Biden, was shot on sight after police were heard shouting, “He’s got a gun!” Teylor survives in critical condition at Roanoke Memorial Hospital, where he is awaiting weapon charges.

Chief of Police Freddy Jaksov said during a pseudoevent that members of law enforcement are scheduled to enter his hospital room and place a gun in his hand, proving his fingerprints were on the murder weapon.

Refuse of Biden merchandise filled Boone’s Mill after police officers tore down cheap cardboard signs littering the church’s exterior, by driving through them in a department issued Mercedes-Maybach S 680. Several mysterious children were saved from so-called rape baptism at the hands of demonic Democrats. However, upon learning these children were illegal immigrants, police promptly and abruptly put them into cages, a practice that thankfully began under Barack Hussein Obama, but that the police nonetheless support.

“The police are animals,” Teylor said. “Cages are the only thing they know.”

Reverend Teylor is charged with “shitting up” Boone’s Mill, where people are already too ugly, following with an ordinance passed by the drunken city council late Thursday night. After the raid he is facing much more serious charges. He is facing 57 charges of conspiracy for the satanic communist pedophile network and 91 relating the the abuse and smuggling of illegal minors which, according to pediatrician Dr. Angstrom H. Trusmeboy, is not that many.

“I’ve seen a lot of trafficking,” Trusmeboy said. “There isn’t much demand for these ones, it’s a niche market, and he’s going to take up space here in my shop. Best I can do is a thousand and five, firm.”

Jaksov later told reporters, “If you find any Biden worshipers out here, report them to us at once, and we will raid their asses, with our batons. You know what they’re doing! We know what they’re doing. Let’s crack some skulls, January 6 style.”

Jaksov took the condom off his baton, and threw it on the ground at his feet.

[UPDATE: Fingerprints identified as belonging to Teylor were found on the murder weapon discovered in his hand by police who, by chance, found it on his person as it left their position into his right hand. According to sources inside the global collective unconscious, he is now fucked.]


After running over five people and killing one, Dr. Troubadour walks away as if nothing happened

dr troubadour
Troubadour was cleared of any wrong-doing.

MIAMI, Fla.–Dr. Troubadour was cleared of charges Monday, immediately following a distressing incident in which he inexplicably drove onto a bike path, striking five pedestrians and killing one, as another suffers life-threatening injuries.

According to eyewitness reports, the doctor and former professor emeritus at M.I.T., Angstrom H. Troubadour, intentionally swerved into a bike lane following a confrontation with cyclists.

The remaining four victims lying in the path were handcuffed and are being detained by the Miami Police Department on charges of obstructing a bike lane.

Sgt. Bailey Bondsman said the victims are being brought in for questioning.

Still from cellphone video shows path of destruction where Troubadour drove onto a bike lane, striking at least five cyclists.
Still from cellphone video shows path of destruction where Troubadour drove onto a bike lane, striking at least five cyclists.

“We’re going to find out what they done to upset Dr. Troubadour, compelling him to drive into the bike lane,” he said. “Were they good people? I don’t know. You tell me. Some of them were not even wearing helmets.”

The renegade doctor spoke to reporters via Twitter Spaces from his Mar-a-Lago suite on Monday. Dr. Troubadour, belonging to a protected class of society, said he walked away unharmed by the cruelty of legal process.

“I stepped out of the car,” Dr. Troubadour said, “and this woman looked about ready to project her entire lifetime of bad choices onto me. She said, ‘Aren’t you sorry?’ Well, I escalated it, and I got in her face and I said, ‘What the fuck did you just say to me?'”

Dr. Troubadour, author of the best-selling 15 Emotions You Can Live Without, puffed out his fat hairy barrel chest and put both arms out in a shrugging motion – with raised shoulders and palms facing the sky – as his eyes burned with fresh anger.

“I said, ‘Yeah I’m sorry, alright. I’m sorry I didn’t hit you, too,’ and I told my girls to get their things, and I said, ‘Don’t let her negativity ruin our fun day.'”

A spokesman for Miami PD called Dr. Troubadour a 'model citizen,' adding that bikers should be more aware of his presence around the community.
A spokesman for Miami PD called Dr. Troubadour a ‘model citizen,’ asking that bikers be more aware of his presence around the community.

Witnesses who waited at the scene said Troubadour pulled over and parked next to the bike path. He was overheard through the driver’s side window saying he was on his way from one pain clinic to another– the RDJ Pain Management Center, near the beach.

Sources saw Troubadour grab his things before stepping out of the driver’s seat. He walked away from the scene with three women, one appearing to have pissed herself during the event. The women proceeded to get their purses, beach towels and drug paraphernalia from the Tesla, and also did not appear to look at the scene.

“He showed no emotion,” one bystander said, who asked not to be named. “I wouldn’t either. Don’t traumatize me talking bout ‘what I did to you.’ Walk on, Doctor, walk on.”

Another witness said Troubadour owned the situation by refusing to acknowledge the people sprawled out among bicycle parts, fresh dirt, and wet grass tracked onto the path. Jeremy Raison, 42, called it a ‘textbook play’ straight out of The Alphabet of Manliness, a book published by Maddox, and still remembered by some.

“He got out, didn’t look at nobody, refused eye contact, answered no questions, and left calmly,” Raison said. “There wasn’t no laying around in the grass, bellyaching, ‘Boo hoo, I got run over by a world-famous prestigious physician.’ He just went on. They don’t make them like that no more. You’ve got to be next-level fucked up to hit all those people, and just walk away.”

Attorneys for Troubadour are seeking damages for the incident, citing tremendous medical bills received from his home office, where he is treating himself for CPTSD as a result of trauma.

The four suspects slammed into by a car owned by Troubadour are being held at the Miami-Dade County Subterranean Dungeon Filled With Piss and Bile and High Level Monsters, where they will wait indefinitely, pending further charges.


Ugly NFTs are the shame of Civilization

INTERNET — I’m fucking tired of the apes. The flat, pointless pixelpunks. Crypto fans tell us this is ‘non-fungible art’, yet employ all possible means to mass-produce maximally derivative icons and make sure they’re seen by everyone, at least fourteen times a day. To any mind not addled by the inherent futurology (astrology by means of scifi), these awful fucking icons are instantly recognizable not as the future, but as the dead end of the era’s overoptimistic, technology drained imagination.

The Maximally Fungible Ugliness of NFT art acts as mascot and pretext for a wide array of unregulated speculation markets. The icons bear a striking resemblance to Fred Flinstone, Tony the Tiger, and other cartoon characters used in marketing sugar-laden children’s cereal. Maximally Fungible Ugliness isn’t only unhealthy for children, the economy, the electric grid, or the environment. It’s the morbid sick at the heart of our civilization.

Nadya Tolokonnikova of Pussy Riot stated that NFTs facilitate an ideal relationship between artists and patrons. This is built upon the futurological premise that traditional banking and currency will inevitably be replaced by crypto. Never mind the absurd computing expenses, slow transfers, and third-rate security that makes the premise laughable. Tolokonnikova’s art is the kind of minimum effort bespoke icons that viewers will pound to death while watching a Twitch stream because their thoughts are too repetitive and tiring to actually type out. Backgrounded in these icons are Tolokonnikova’s prison papers, an ugly detraction which serves only to underline the fact that this is an ideal relationship with patrons, for sure, but also, nothing has changed. Financial support of this kind is still only for the few artists who are sexy, fabulous, or lucky.

The smell of rot is unbearable, but Maximally Fungible Ugliness did not begin with NFTs. The Ugliness pervades public spaces, invades devices, imprints itself on labels, cycles through permutation after permutation, fills the few gaps left in economic suffering by berating everyone everywhere with a stream of ceaseless insults to their intelligence, dignity, and humanity. The Ugliness has been distilled and refined for decades and the NFT is the penultimate expression: Marketing has become self-sufficient, and no longer relies on meatspace goods or services. While we were distracted with the potential for some AI apocalypse, marketing has slowly eaten us up from the inside, some aesthetic singularity passing by unnoticed, and only Rip Van Winkle, awakening from his slumber, can see quite how ugly life has become. Ha-ha.

It is so often said that the simple appreciation of Beauty for its own sake is shallow or narrow minded. But if there were an essence to Beauty, it should be fantasy. The opening of all potential, the emptiness of a blank slate and its laughable projections, pathetic daydreams, the experience of eternity, of oceanic depth. This inspires ridiculous behavior, love, which is an intolerable thing, and can be dealt with easily. Just ignore it!

But if it doesn’t go away, it can be enclosed within a marital contract, secured in bland familiarity, withheld in casual usefulness. What is left of love may be allowed to linger for a time, before being choked out by the all-pervading Ugliness and the perfectly acceptable, low-risk, business-like behavior of partnership.

This madness for trading trashy marketing materials representing no services or goods is the most pure partnership possible, an ideal relationship like out of some childish romance anime, a perfect transaction in the Ugly mold, and the next technological improvement over the purchase of a box of Fruity Pebbles. Enjoy your Maximally Fungible Uglies while they last!