Brazil officials say 11 dead in ‘massacre' at Belém bar

HUE HUE HUE

(archive is down)

eu.usatoday.com/story/news/world/2019/05/19/brazil-officials-massacre-media-dead-bar/3736132002/

Attached: cfdb11f0-bae9-4005-bd40-34c5387c97bd-AFP_AFP_1GO3EF.JPG (1080x720, 113.12K)

Other urls found in this thread:

talesofmytery.blogspot.com/2014/03/evelyn-waugh-man-who-liked-dickens.html
twitter.com/SFWRedditGifs

in other news a bear shit in the woods

Good.
The more women are killed, the better the world becomes.

Way to out yourself as weak. Anyway, they were likely mongrels. This is how a mongrel society operates.

Evelyn Waugh visited Belem; this story came out of it. He seemed to regard it as the asshole of the universe.

talesofmytery.blogspot.com/2014/03/evelyn-waugh-man-who-liked-dickens.html

At last when Henty had passed six or seven consecutive days without fever, Mr. McMaster said, “Now I think you are well enough to see the books.”
At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected up in the eaves of the roof. Mr. McMaster propped a ladder against it and mounted. Henty followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr. McMaster sat on the platform and Henty stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of small bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and rawhide.
“It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians know how to make that is useful.”
He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of Bleak House.
“It does not matter which we take first.”
“You are fond of Dickens?”
“Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man… and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words… I have all Dickens’s books except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all—more than two years.”
“Well,” said Henty lightly, “they will well last out my visit.”
“Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire.”
They took down the first volume of Bleak House and that afternoon Henty had his first reading.
He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with his wife, until one day, in one of her rare moments of confidence, she remarked that it was torture to her. Sometimes after that he had thought it might be agreeable to have children to read to. But Mr. McMaster was a unique audience.

By the time that they were well into the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man’s delight had begun to wane, and Henty was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr. McMaster seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints.

One day, running his thumb through the pages of Bleak House that remained to be read, Henty said, “We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go.”

“Oh yes,” said Mr. McMaster. “Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend.”

For the first time Henty noticed something slightly menacing in his host’s manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef eaten just before sundown, Henty renewed the subject.

“You know, Mr. McMaster, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back to civilization. I have already imposed myself on your hospitality for too long.”

Mr. McMaster bent over his plate, crunching mouthfuls of farine, but made no reply.

“How soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat?… I said how soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat? I appreciate all your kindness to me more than I can say, but…”

“My friend, any kindness I may have shown is amply repaid by your reading of Dickens. Do not let us mention the subject again.”

“Well, I’m very glad you have enjoyed it. I have, too. But I really must be thinking of getting back…”

“Yes,” said Mr. McMaster. “The black man was like that. He thought of it all the time. But he died here…”

Attached: 2329395.jpg (263x400, 27.77K)

I wish I could have saved those women and brought them over to the US

All things considered I think it would be much to be preferred if you simply moved there yourself and stayed in that shit hole fornicating with those vile mestizo sluts for the rest of your syphilis infected life.

MGTOW faggots get the gas.

Don't D&C me, bro

There's already a zillion working class German guys in there pregging all the mestizo 15 and 16 year old girls with their bastards. You go there and fuck those animals and you'll either be poking your glans into the foetus of spawned on that whore by a German welder or you'll be slipping and sliding on some beer swilling drunken oaf's wet deck.

Who cares?

In South America, Simon Bolivar is the right. The Gringo/Jew is the insane left.

Fuck off jew larping as "right winger".

Attached: chavez.JPG (544x1655, 182.17K)

We will keep killing all of you, leftists. Above any laws or rules.

That is why we kill leftists en masse.

Brutally honest.

lol

Is the pope jewish?

I would marry and impregnate the Aryan girl in the middle.

Right, You're a jew. You don't belong here.

So why did they do it? Was the bar full and they needed a seat?

Reported for being a communist. We will keep killing you all.

From what I know these things are almost always drug gangs lashing at each other. Some innocents get killed too since mutt gangs aren't human and have no empathy, all they know is their enemies are at place x so they go in an start shooting everyone.

Why are they all so fat? And they call America Burger land.

The Aryan girl on her right is my type