“The State of the Kwa: Atlantic City” is a short white fiction piece written on 30 April 2004 by William Ventvogel (“Kwa” means “Amerikwa”: the degenerate, Mammon-worship place that America has become):
I accepted my boss’ invitation to go with him to Atlantic City for a day of gambling. I don’t gamble, but it would be interesting to see the changes. I hadn’t been up there in years. But no, the nature of the place had not changed. It was on artificial life support. There were fewer White workers than I remember in 1980. There were more casinos, and the crowd was darker, but the same dreary Kwaness was intact, the grasping, gluttonous, uncivilized hive activity of American society. Perhaps it would have alarmed one of us, but to a Kwan [someone who lives in the Kwa (Amerikwa)] it was all right. It was a place of good times, you see. And Americans are all about having fun, as Celine said. Most of the restaurant and service staff was Mexican. The issue about Atlantic City, New Jersey, is that it still runs despite the majority black, brown and Jew composition of the people.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think a non-white population can maintain a White civilization. My consideration (as yours), is the strategic one: as the infrastructure ages and the proportion of White to not-white decreases, when does a region become Third World? It will, of course. The day would prompt me to follow this train of speculation. So my boss went off to the poker room for seven hours and I went my way. After paying $15 for a breakfast of sausage and eggs, and after reading the New York Times, I wandered off. Entering that red bag sewer of an ocean was out of the question. (I saw guys surfing it!) The rides were not open for the season yet. All the news stands carried moron picture books and nothing else. The scene outside the casinos is basically one of walking and buying something to eat every 100 yards. You watch the girls for a while. (Five in a hundred were interesting. Far, far too few were White.) The small shops had been taken over by Pakistanis, Indians and Asians. A few very old family pizza businesses carried on, run by Italian or Greek families. But generally it is a place left behind by Whites. It has a run-over, battered feel, like the wake of a glacier. I quickly exhausted the options for diversion, which is a dangerous condition for me. I started thinking.
Atlantic City is a place where everyone thinks that what they want is to be had there. No doubt those with more innate levity and good humor than I possess have fun there. Really, they do. No one I saw appeared to be worried. The Whites had credit cards, the not-whites had credit cards or cash enough. There was no favala-style hardness or predator look, no breadline desperation. The sun was shining and the waves were breaking on the pumped-in sand. The gulls wheeled and screamed in the sunlight. The feral cats that live and breed in serious numbers under the boardwalk were charming the morons. It was a good day to be a Kwan in Atlantic City. But as I stood against the rail there along the boardwalk watching the passers-by, I realized that the basic dynamic of our predicament was to be seen here: there is peace because Whites are yielding. I should point out that any objective survey, cursory or rigorous, of the composition of the mob would reveal it was majority non-white. There were niggers, mestizos and asians and mélanges of all, and these, scaled against the apparently wholly-Whites, outnumbered the Whites. Still, no cause for alarm! There was peace in Atlantic City. Whitey was still running the trains and power stations and giving up his taxes and managing the casinos and motels. He was keeping the books and running the police and fire departments and not overtly resisting, or even objecting, when a nigger or brown thing hits on his daughter.
As I watched that mob of potbellied whiggers, niggers and mélanges pass, I could not avoid speculating how much longer the Kwa can go on, when the center would disintegrate. I am morbid-minded, you see. Like most artists I find the dismal and eccentric more interesting than stock reports and niggerball. I observed the gold chains and backward ball caps, the sneakers, the yo-ball clothing, pierced eyebrows, Neanderthal gaits, the fart machine complex of the under-men doing their mobish thing with instinctual excellence, the way a Jew is instinctually a superb Jew. And I wondered if the cancer would spread into the still-White Kwa interior by the stealthy thoroughness with which it has taken over the northeast coastal region. I would answer yes, but I don’t think the Kwa will last long enough.
The rate of decay is theoretical but still, nothing this stupid can feed itself. Eventually Josefa and Ali, Cho and Shamika and Howard Greenstein are going to look for the White man one day and he will not be there. What then? The White man’s works won’t last forever nor work under all conditions, as they seem to now. The White man makes it all go. Take him away and you have no energy. The White man is fading slowly enough; his parasites are not alarmed.
This is the portal through which anyone who cares to peep might see how it will end. Material systems falter without the hands that created them. Machines require more than rote maintenance. Consider Haiti, a place touched by the White man. The U.S. Marines ran the island of Hispaniola from 1919 to 1933 but they weren’t there only to kick ass for United Fruit and Jew banks. They also made it safe for the uplift crowd, which always follows the ZOG army to improve the lives of the liberated. These are essentially Puritans. They bring democracy and God and women’s rights and other deteriorative voodoo. Yes, the jarheads made it safe for the Puritan uplifters to do their thing. Some good was accomplished: roads, schools, hospitals and power plants were built. The marines built a supposedly legitimate constabulary and army. But hell, that didn’t last long. When Roosevelt pulled the Marines out of the Caribbean in 1933 (his “good neighbor” policy) all of it sank away, of course. Now the Dominican Republic is a shithole, and Haiti is worse than a shithole — it is an abscess. Make no mistake: a people converts its environment into conformity with its instincts. So the animals of Haiti have the land they feel comfortable with. The Dominicans, having more White blood, have not brought their land so low as Haiti but overpopulation and corruption are taking it there. You have noted the ongoing exodus from Hispaniola in vessels of desperate design. Atlantic City would be paradise for them. There they will at least get fed.
And no doubt if they reach “our” shores our corps of uplifters will cover them. The jewsmedia will back the uplifters. The huddled masses win; the tax slaves lose (more). The jewsmedia will form public opinion into demanding services for these people for which the government can’t pay. So the government must borrow the money from Jew York banks — which is the plan. It is a sweet, bombproof strategy for usurers — but one that cannot go on forever. Resources will falter. The average technical and managerial competence will sink. This is ZOG’s Achilles’ heel.
The dynamic is to be seen on the boardwalk and casinos of Atlantic City, New Jersey. The media keep the mob excited — thus diverted. Atlantic City is a break from the mundane pressures, for example the moral peaks, the “personal development” goals. There is also the Big Score by which the gambler hopes to escape “the rat race”. Kwans are conditioned to be perpetually discontent. The media know how and are very good at it. You can detect the method in the casinos, in the slot machines, for example. The machines are digital now, imparting a sense of infinity, derived from the soul of the machines which is circular (circuitry); hence nothing in them really stops. So they emit this sound which affects the senses in this way: it is a crescending sound, tense and always climbing, climbing, like a murder scene in a movie. But it never works out, never ends. It climbs and climbs and the player feeds more quarters, dollars into the mouth of the machine so he will arrive. At what? In a football-field-sized casino several hundreds of these machines make a sound that to a non-gambler is insane. It sounds, brothers, like control. In a casino you might hear for the first time what control sounds like. It is a cacophony that makes slaves.
The only intelligent-looking people I saw were in the Starbucks. What does this mean? It means that practically everyone can be grouped. This is the fact; most of us can be profiled by marketers. All they need is a few weeks of purchase data. Personally I don’t care. They can’t make me spend, so let them watch. The Kwa is, as the kike Zangwill pronounced, “the distilled essence of Judaism.” Hence I turn to the others who feel as I do. Who are the most interesting writers today? White nationalists and (so-called) anarchists. These are the only ones taking on the dynamic of Jew and capitalist herd management. Starbucks has nailed the lit-and-wine set. Starbucks is daylight intelligentsia.
But the market targeting of AmeriKwa is a grand phenomenon, too. It foments sprawl, debt consumer spending and obesity. It is to be seen along most major ZOG interstate highways, for example. Market research offers a theme for every ill-discipline and aspiration. What you are looking for and hope to be can be shopped for at the next strip mall. At night the intensity of the competition is apparent in the banks and banks of lights, like infinite runways. The sheer bigness and complexity of urban/suburban Kwa life must make you wonder what the end will be, and how it will commence. And if you stay in this environment you will go insane. I have concluded that insanity is inevitable. It might be a controlled insanity, a functional insanity, but there is no avoidance of spiritual corruption and identity-death in a high-density aura of AmeriKwa. To survive materially you have only one option: adrenalize or fail. (Hence the need for caffeine.) The pace is accelerating and if you don’t get wired and stay wired (Starbucks) you will be eaten by someone who is.
I saw a lot of “Russians” in Atlantic City. I must say the women were very attractive. They seemed to me to have more easily readable signals and avoidance system than do AmeriKwan women. They were, in short, more feminine. But there are mixed opinions of these “Russians.” Many are zhids [Jews]. Too many had a gaudy and thuggish character. It was new money. The men were wearing gold chains and the women were over-painted and over-dressed. I have Russian friends who would have been embarrassed by the sight of them, I think. And they might have felt a resonance from the Soviet days in the Atlantic City Museum, a small place on the northern end of the boardwalk. There I watched a short film on the history of Atlantic City. It was well done until the end where it described the reasons for Atlantic City’s decline. It commenced in the postwar prosperity when, because people had the money to travel and build backyard pools they stopped coming to Atlantic City. Jet travel to Vegas, my ass! Atlantic City went down the shitter [toilet] because the niggers were growing restive by the desegregation laws the zhids engineered into promulgation in the 1950s and ’60s. The straw(s) that broke Atlantic City’s back were the MLK riots in 1968. Atlantic City had been attracting niggers from the South for decades. They came to work in the service industry; the bonus was that the Whites up north didn’t know niggers like Southerners do. After the defeat of Adolf Hitler’s White revolution and the Jew campaign against Whiteness the niggers lost their fear of the White man, and did their natural bush thing, which is riot, kill, rape and plunder. I don’t know how badly Atlantic City suffered in the King riots but surely the bushmeats [niggers] did bust up the place most splendidly. The human beings were frightened away. The Jews left too.
And so you see the phenomenon that is apparent throughout all of urbanized AmeriKwa: shallow pockets of prosperity, hemmed by a sort of deadline where Whites and niggers don’t mix much. Atlantic City glitters one block deep. Go deeper and you’re in the ghetto, with animal niggers and Whites who act like them. I dared a brief excursion a few blocks in and it was as bad as anywhere I’ve been. I got the feeling that the ‘meats were waiting for the signal. Will you recognize the signal, White man? The well-built old buildings were sinking away; they had that patina of nigger rot. So that’s what basically rules Atlantic City now as it does many, if not most, coastal cities: the brown and black cancer, kept at bay by the Jew media/extortion strategy. It rules the Kwa. In the meantime you may be sure that the kikes have a Rodney King on tape somewhere, ready to deploy at the right time. In the meantime, enjoy what’s left. One day in Atlantic City was enough for me. Maybe the showgirls can draw me back. That’s about it.