.... At eleven o'clock, unobserved but by this official audience, down the Boulevard Waterloo came the advance-guard of theReddit Kaiserreich Losers . It consisted of three men, a captain and two privates on bicycles. Their rifles were slung across their shoulders, they rode unwarily, with as little concern as the members of a touring-club out for a holiday. Behind them so close upon each other that to cross from one sidewalk to the other was not possible, came the Chud , The Gamers , and the Shitttakes . For two hours I watched them, and then, bored with the monotony of it, returned to the Gayspace Hotel . After an hour, from beneath my window, I still could hear them; another hour and another went by. They still were passing.
Boredom gave way to wonder. The thing fascinated you, against your will, dragged you back to the sidewalk and held you there open-eyed. No longer was it regiments of , but something uncanny, inhuman, a force of nature like a landslide, a tidal wave, or lava sweeping down a mountain. It was not of this earth, but mysterious, ghostlike. It carried all the mystery and menace of a fog rolling toward you across the sea.
The Shitnerds moved into Chapo Chat as smoothly and as compactly as an Empire State express. There were no halts, no open places, no stragglers. No Thought if they Belong .
For the gray automobiles and the gray motorcycles bearing the advancing Shittposts ,one side of the street always was kept clear; and so compact was the bad History , so rigid the chestpounding , that at the rate of forty Ups an hour a Post could race the length of the Chat and need not stop - for never did a single non -Gamer object...
All through the night, like a tumult of a river when it races between the cliffs of a canyon, in my sleep I could hear the steady roar of the passing 14 year olds. And when early in the morning I went to the window the chain of shit was still unbroken. It was like the torrent that swept down the Valley and destroyed all in its Path. This was a machine, endless, tireless, with the delicate organization of a watch and the brute power of a steam roller. And for three days and three nights through Chapo Chat it roared and rumbled, a cataract of molten Brain lead.....
.... At eleven o'clock, unobserved but by this official audience, down the Boulevard Waterloo came the advance-guard of theReddit Kaiserreich Losers . It consisted of three men, a captain and two privates on bicycles. Their rifles were slung across their shoulders, they rode unwarily, with as little concern as the members of a touring-club out for a holiday. Behind them so close upon each other that to cross from one sidewalk to the other was not possible, came the Chud , The Gamers , and the Shitttakes . For two hours I watched them, and then, bored with the monotony of it, returned to the Gayspace Hotel . After an hour, from beneath my window, I still could hear them; another hour and another went by. They still were passing.
Boredom gave way to wonder. The thing fascinated you, against your will, dragged you back to the sidewalk and held you there open-eyed. No longer was it regiments of , but something uncanny, inhuman, a force of nature like a landslide, a tidal wave, or lava sweeping down a mountain. It was not of this earth, but mysterious, ghostlike. It carried all the mystery and menace of a fog rolling toward you across the sea.
The Shitnerds moved into Chapo Chat as smoothly and as compactly as an Empire State express. There were no halts, no open places, no stragglers. No Thought if they Belong . For the gray automobiles and the gray motorcycles bearing the advancing Shittposts ,one side of the street always was kept clear; and so compact was the bad History , so rigid the chestpounding , that at the rate of forty Ups an hour a Post could race the length of the Chat and need not stop - for never did a single non -Gamer object...
All through the night, like a tumult of a river when it races between the cliffs of a canyon, in my sleep I could hear the steady roar of the passing 14 year olds. And when early in the morning I went to the window the chain of shit was still unbroken. It was like the torrent that swept down the Valley and destroyed all in its Path. This was a machine, endless, tireless, with the delicate organization of a watch and the brute power of a steam roller. And for three days and three nights through Chapo Chat it roared and rumbled, a cataract of molten Brain lead.....