A Marine relates his experience with a good boy who, no doubt, is going to go to college:
As a former US Marine, I am painfully aware of the security risks of Baltimore, and go out of my way to reduce my need to resort to force for survival. At approximately 10 PM, I sat in the driver’s seat with the engine running and texted a few friends while I let the engine warm up (diesel car, cold night). I was parked in the corner of a restaurant parking lot that is surrounded by fence on all sides save for the entrance– trapped. Suddenly, to my left, a loud banging against my driver window caused me to drop my phone, and I looked up in horror at some young dindu punk with a cheap Hi-Point brand 9mm pistol leveled right at my chest ordering me to get out of my car. I raised my left hand in a stop motion to show him I meant no harm as my right hand inconspicuously but instinctively went for my right hip where, if I were in Virginia or my native New York, my hand would have grasped the hilt of my Glock model 27 .40 caliber soul liberator. The realization of its absence is when the blood truly drained from my face, and the icy cold reality of having to get out of my car and into the jaws of the beast to negotiate for my life set in. Had I been able to drive off, I would have done so, and run this dindu down in the process by a fast reverse with the wheel hard to the right.
The instant I lowered the window to tell him to take the car, he started pulling on the glass (thanks for the fingerprints, asshole) and managed to force my window down to reach inside to pull the door handle. He grabbed me by the shirt, and pulled me out of the car but my seatbelt slowed my progress. He kept screaming, almost in a frightened manner, to “get out of the fucking car.” His pistol-whips came raining down on my head and somehow I was able to get out of the car when I tried to just run, but was on my knee with the door open and my right leg still in the car. He kept screaming for the keys, when I yelled, “they’re in the car, they’re in the car!” On about the fourth or fifth smash to my head and face with his crude instrument of an impoverished savage, I saw a starry flash and knew this cocksucker was going to kill me if he was able to get control of my car. I unclipped my Benchmade 4.5″ Stryker knife when I felt him lean over me to look into the car and plunged the glinting tip of my shiv directly into his abdomen somewhere near his spleen. I pulled the knife out to go for a second thrust when I barely got the edge of his blue hooded sweatshirt as he was in Jessie Owens mode running for the street nearby to make his escape back to the shadows.
It just goes to show that we are ceding Western Civilization without so much as a whimper, because the instant I became a hard target capable of presenting danger to him and taking his life, he ran like a spearchucking skinny after the last gazelle on the grassy plain.
My grandfather was carjacked in Alexandria, Virginia, by a 28-year-old vibrant armed with a .38, at the age of 73. Also being a Marine, he also fought back, disarmed the vibrant, and broke his hand repeatedly punching the younger gentleman in the face.
Neither segregation nor free association are wrong. Racism is not a sin; you will not find it denounced anywhere in the Bible. And the virtue-signaling churches that teach racism is a sin are teaching the false gospel of Judeo Christ, not the genuine gospel of Jesus Christ of Nazareth.
It is strange, is it not, that the most grievous of sins appears to have escaped the notice of all the various Christian churches, from Orthodox to Protestant, for over one thousand nine hundred years. And does anyone really believe that modern society is today more Christian, more perfected in the faith, than were previous societies?