In times of disaster inner character comes through like no other time. We find out who we really are, whether it's rural Whites coming together to endure the hardship of a flood, polite Japanese bravely confronting nuclear meltdown or New Orleans negroes losing whatever veneer of civilization they'd been given by the hand of the White man to fall into a "We dying here!" state of nature. The content of their character.
Another example would be the recent plane crash in Nigeria.
Chaos broke out in the densely-populated Lagos neighbourhood where a passenger jet crashed Sunday, as rescue workers faced heavy crowds and aggressive soldiers while trying to access smoldering wreckage.
All 153 people on board the Dana Air flight were presumed dead and more were believed to have been killed on the ground after the plane plowed into the impoverished neighbourhood near the airport in the city of some 15 million.
Thousands of onlookers had partially blocked access to the crash site, prompting soldiers to try to clear the area out. They used rubber whips, their fists and even threw a wood plank at those crowded around.
"Help us White Man!"
Yes, we can look forward to the day that dusky "citizens" are beaten with rubber whips in a desperate attempt to restore some sort of order in the midst of a disaster. When freedom dies, when the right to self-determination is outlawed, this is all that remains. Savagery, helplessness, and death.
In America the 85 I.Q. morass is still being propped up by a White majority. This delicate stasis has, best case scenario, a few decades left in it. When the productive tax-payer is outnumbered by the state dependents it will collapse. Everything is being done to hasten this day: open borders, government programs to encourage welfare dependency and breeding, and politicians that seem content to allow this slow disaster to occur, I guess with the attitude of "I'll be safely dead by then." At the rate our collapse is accelerating, even that probably isn't a safe exit strategy.
Our future is either in the stars or in the African muck. Which way, White man, which way?