Big Oil Fried Chicken

@ComradeSmalls

I am Charlie Kirk.

🇺🇸

Joined December 2022

285 Following

49 Followers

1.2K Posts

Big Oil Fried Chicken @ComradeSmalls

1 day ago

@ShawnRyan762 @remarks Give it a rest dude. Jesus.

ComradeSmalls retweeted

Not Josh Firestine

@Not_Firestine

3 days ago

First of all, I happen to know of at least 2 co-conspirators and 1 murderer who do not think it’s a tragedy, and if you’re honest with yourself you’ll admit there’s a whole lot more. Secondly - I think Britons saw what happened in that body cam footage and saw themselves cuffed on the ground. They saw their own sons. They saw a boy murdered by a weapon that they themselves aren’t legally allowed to carry, wielded legally by a man whose non-British culture makes him a protected class with extra privileges. They had to wait until now to hear about it because the institutions who claim to look out for them hid the murder from them. Nobody reported on it. The government kept it quiet, and now only after the trial has ended, do they mention the story, hoping to GOD Americans didn’t hear about it and report on it. They watched the police, who are sworn to protect them, disregard a boys plea for his life, cuffed him and treated him like a villain, while his murderer stood over his body and watched him take his last breath, still justifying the murder by lying about thought crimes. All the while, native Britons have been terrified of speaking to their own thoughts, under threat of prison for their words, thoughts, and beliefs. It is political. Britons don’t want to be the next innocent person bleeding out in cuffs because their own police have a policy to treat whites with an automatic disposition of guilt. It is political because foreigners are allowed to carry weapons they themselves cannot. It is political because their thoughts and words are crimes, and if someone accuses them of said crime, they cannot defend their innocence - even if they are bleeding out on a driveway. Policy change is politics. Shame on YOU for using the family’s pain to try and stop what’s coming. Good Luck from the Colonies, Britain. we are rooting for you. 🇺🇸 🇬🇧

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Big Oil Fried Chicken @ComradeSmalls

3 days ago

@rustyrockets No thank you.

Big Oil Fried Chicken @ComradeSmalls

9 days ago

@KeithMalinak Do not let Tilda know of this blatant treachery!

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Xen

@Protecttheturn

Active old fart. 😏 Telemark skier, Rd, Mt, Gravel biker, ski instructor, Single, Please do not DM, unless you ski and bike, are active and over 60. #MAGA, NCW

Steven Z.

@realStevenZ

-- 100% Conservative 🇺🇸 -- Freedom Thinker 🤔 -- YouTube Streamer 🎮 -- Check out my YouTube: https://t.co/O231ZgOSM5

Bird

@DollarBird97

Christian USA Patriot 🇺🇸 Conservative 🇺🇸 Support President Trump

Big Oil Fried Chicken @ComradeSmalls

9 days ago

@KeithMalinak Some have come close, but there’s this pesky thing called fallibility.

ComradeSmalls retweeted

LHGrey™️

@grey4626

14 days ago

On this Memorial Day Monday… while the grills fire up and the flags snap half-heartedly in the suburban breeze…stop. Cease the rote pageantry and confront the ledger scrawled in arterial red, the precise, unyielding calculus by which this Republic was purchased and continues to be insured. Not by the hollow rhetoric of politicians chasing votes, nor by the cheap pieties of civilians who have never heard incoming fire. No. It was purchased by men…young, clear-eyed, lethal…who chose the muzzle flash over the couch, who traded their finite pulse for the infinite continuation of ordered liberty under law. They understood, in their marrow, what most never will: freedom is not a participation trophy handed out at birth. It is a blood tariff, paid in advance by a warrior caste that steps forward when the rest of the nation prefers to scroll. History does not whisper this truth; it screams it across every theater of American arms. From the slaughter pens of Antietam, where 23,000 fell in a single September day and the cornfields ran crimson, to the black volcanic sand of Iwo Jima, where Marines clawed inch by bloody inch against an enemy sworn to fight to the last man. From the frozen meat grinder of Chosin Reservoir…where Marines fought through -30 degrees and Chinese human-wave assaults, leaving their dead stacked like cordwood under the snow…to the dust-choked passes of Korengal Valley, where a new generation traded lead with fanatics who measured time in IED detonations. Add Gettysburg’s corpse-choked fields, the hedgerows of Normandy where Rangers scaled Pointe du Hoc under machine-gun fire, the Ia Drang where air cavalry met the NVA in the first great test of helicopter warfare, the streets of Fallujah where urban combat turned houses into kill zones. These were not accidents of history. They were deliberate transactions: young men who looked into the void of probable death, ran the numbers, and signed the check anyway. They did not die for “democracy” as some hollow slogan peddled by cable-news anchors. They died enforcing the lethal arithmetic that the Republic endures only because someone, somewhere, was willing to kill and be killed so the rest could argue about it in safety. Psychology does not lie, and it is merciless here. The vast majority of citizens operate under a comfortable delusion, anesthetized by prosperity they never earned and shielded by oceans and oceans of other people’s blood. Cognitive dissonance is their armor: they enjoy the fruits of empire while scorning the imperial guard that secured them. They virtue-signal about “peace” from air-conditioned rooms, never once reckoning with the raw transaction cost. Meanwhile, the few who volunteered for the meat grinder…the ones who raised their right hand and meant it…understood the final, existential bargain. They stared down mortality without flinching, calculated the price of continuance, and paid it in full. That is not romantic sentiment; it is the highest form of realism. The rest of us are merely beneficiaries…soft, distracted, often ungrateful heirs to a patrimony of controlled ferocity. We sleep soundly because they did not. To the forgetful, the revisionists, the parlor-room critics who treat Memorial Day as just another long weekend of beer and sales circulars: your indifference is venom, but it is weak, diluted venom, the kind that only poisons the soul of the nation that tolerates it. History’s judgment is far sharper, colder, and permanent. The fallen do not require your applause or your performative hashtags. They demand your precision. They demand you remember…with intellectual honesty and without the comforting lies…that every right you casually exercise, every comfort you casually consume, every late-night scroll through your digital distractions was bought with compound interest in the currency of young men who will never grow old, never hold their children, never see another sunrise. They paid so you could whine about “the system” from the very system their sacrifice preserved. We do not mourn them as victims of circumstance or “needless war.” That is the language of cowards and revisionists who would rather cheapen the price than face it. We honor them as the lethal architects of our continuance…steel-eyed, duty-bound, unapologetic. They were not pawns; they were the tip of the spear, the quiet professionals who carried the Republic on their shoulders when the bill came due. This nation’s pride is not abstract or inherited like some antique heirloom. It is forged in their sacrifice, tempered in the fire of their resolve, and sustained by the quiet, ferocious knowledge that when the bill comes due again…and it always does…others of their kind will step forward to pay it in the same red currency. Lest we forget is not a cliché to be embroidered on a pillow. It is a warning etched in stone and bone. The Republic endures only as long as we refuse to cheapen their price, only as long as we retain the clarity to distinguish between the warrior who bled and the civilian who merely benefited. Anything less is national suicide by amnesia.