/tgjim/ - TraditionalGames

Traditional Game waited. The lights above him blinked and sparked out of the air. There were cyberspasms in the base. He didn’t see them, but had expected them now for years. His warnings to binary counterpart were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway.
Traditional Game was a space marine for fourteen years. When he was young he watched the pragmatists and he said to dad “I want to be on the pragmatists daddy.”
Dad said “No! You will BE KILL BY CYBERSPASMS”
There was a time when he believed him. Then as he got oldered he stopped. But now in the schizo station base of the TGJIM he knew there were cyberspasms.
“This is binary counterpart” the radio crackered. “You must fight the cyberspasms!”
So Traditional Game gotted his palsma rifle and blew up the wall.
“HE GOING TO KILL US” said the cyberspasms
“I will shoot at him” said the oceaniccyberspasm and he fired the rocket missiles. Traditional Game plasmaed at him and tried to blew him up. But then the ceiling fell and they were trapped and not able to kill.
“No! I must kill the cyberspasms” he shouted
The radio said “No, Traditional Game. You are the cyberspasms”
And then Traditional Game was a funposter.

>>664
>>665

Look what I found digging through my folders.

I think this one actually saw some use.

all rook same to me

I was knocked out after they had hit me in the mouth. I awoke in a dingy shed to the guffaws of treacherous goyim. Two of my gold teeth were missing along with my 24K gold star of David pendant with chai, which I kept hidden deep within my tuchas since I was fourteen years old. I had been defecating and swallowing this pendant ever since the small goy boy indirectly revealed to me the top secret plot of NAZI Germany at the beach. Noticing I was awake one of the goyim took out a berufsmesser, and in a flash, cut off my hand like one would cut off the foreskin of a newborn infant during a bris — a most holy and celebrated ritual thus desecrated by these Nazi schmucks. As I lay bleeding and screaming from my newly created stump, they swiftly skinned my hand. They took the skin and stretched it out over a vat of Jewish fat oil. I screamed in agony as I realized that they were turning my hand into a lampshade right in front of my eyes, just as the elders of Zion had warned. This memory haunts me to this day and whenever I go on tour across the country to lecture the goyim schools on the Shoah, I bring this lampshade to remind them that this was their fault, and that they should pay for their hideous atrocities. I also bring a pair of Magen David and hold them up, one in each hand, to show the class how they branded us.
It wasn’t long before I befriended a fellow Holocaust survivor. His name was Herschel Marx, a former Communist agitator and a long veteran of the death camps. He told me horrible stories of how the Germans defiled his daughter in front of him, before sending her to the infamous Dr. Mengle for some sort of nefarious experiment. He never saw her afterwards, and he told me that he misses the sound of her singing old Yiddish folk-songs late at night. He tries not to imagine what sort of horrible torment befell her at the hand of this mad scientist, for it would only amplify the loss he felt. We would talk about what we would do if we survived the extermination camps, and if we would ever have vengeance on Europe for abandoning and subjecting us to this horrible fate, or if we would ever make aliyah to the promised land of milk and honey and make a new world for us, free of the barbaric and cruel goyim. Ah, Zion, my homeland! How you beckoned me throughout these ordeals to your sand-swept monoliths and ancient masonry. At this point, Eretz Yisrael called for me with more passion than Los Angeles or New York. But alas, I was still locked up by thesPost too long. Click here to view the full text.

Chapter 4: “Freedom” at Last

Freedom? What is freedom? Freedom is when my people, the chosen people, will take their rightful place as the rulers of this land and rule over the goyim as a shepherd to his herd. Until then I shall never be free. The world shall never be rid of anti-Semitism, racism and sexism in all their forms until the German plague is wiped from this planet and a new world order is built upon the bones of the goyim. But for now I shall endure, not only for myself, but for the Jewish peoples. The following is my personal account of the perilous escape from Dachau:
It was a cold Sunday morning. The sun was out, the goyim were still sleeping and the shekels were rolling in. I had built a trade empire for myself in Auschwitz. I traded in mice, cards, and goyim blood. Pure German blood was particularly valuable, due to its peculiar taste. The lifeblood of Jews is the blood of the white man and this is exactly how I made my escape. I had earlier ‘befriended’ a young Nazi supremacist working at the camp. We traded in commodities and discussed how best to control the camps population. One day, at my scheduled informant meeting, I hid a knife in my rectum. The pain was awful, but it was nothing compared to the pain I feel even today at the loss of 9 Million Jews (let them be avenged). When his back was turned, I plunged the knife deep into his back and suckled the blood until I was strong. Strong enough to face the challenge ahead of me - pretending to be a goy. It was most shameful, but I donned the evil Nazi uniform and headed outside to the outhouse. A few Nazi scum waved at me and smiled. I still remember the humiliation of having to wave back with my hand lampshade and four gold chests strapped to my back. I could feel the anti-Semitism oozing from the very uniform I was forced to wear, let alone the piercing glare of the filthy goys. I had finally arrived at the outhouse and closed the door behind me, leaving that part of my life behind me. The second stage of my plan was about to begin.
I dropped into the puddle of feces, rubbish and excrement and began to swim. This was a swim to freedom. A swim to revenge. A swim to Jewish supremacy. “Surely the Jew is the most proud of peoples. Truly we are the chosen ones” I thought as I swam while holding my hand lamp shade and four chests of gold through the murky depths of goyim excrement. Unfortunately, I lost one of my chests in the anti-semitic German excrement. IPost too long. Click here to view the full text.

Chapter 5: The Rise of a Culture of Intolerance

With some of the goyim taking the lessons of the Shoah to heart, there has been some progress towards the tolerance of the chosen people. Yet, despite this, there is still considerable resistance towards multiculturalism which will prevent the peoples of Europe from attaining a true and free (we like it when things are free) society where people can freely partake in sodomy with Moroccan men and then brag about it on Facebook afterwards.
It is said, in the holy scriptures, that when we Jews have our comeuppance, we will be destroyed by the White race and Ron Paul. Paul will act as a hero to unite the goyim. Several Jewish internet posters who have spread confusion among the goyim will be exterminated. Lazare is our finest Chosen. He is a perfect Jew, always hating the goyim for the scum that they are! "Lazare, I am happy you are a part of the chosen people,” said the Elders of Zion as they rubbed their hands against his cut pleb-tier penis.

Chapter 8: The Third Holocaust - It was real in my mind..

In my early days at the Warsaw ghetto of eastern Vienna I realized that we needed to control these human cattle. They had grown too powerful and we could no longer control them. It was the wild nigger who found the best way to do this which was to control the economy. We began research on methods of mind control and realized that we could inject tiny nano bots in the guise of flu shots into the goyim in order to coerce them into buying our products during the Christmas season. Everything was going according to plan, the masses of goyim were filling our pockets. The flu shots worked better then expected, they worked so well the goyim flocked to take out high interest loans from the banks of Israel’s elders. We vacuumed in sheckels from them as they could never pay off the loans we so generously gave them.
But everything was going too well, there was a traitor in our ranks. A sinister man, one minute he claimed to be a Jew, the next an anti-Zionist. His name, which I shudder to even type, was Ron Paulberg. Paulberg was a descendant of one of the disgraced lost tribes of Israel, he would stop at nothing to keep us, the chosen people, from reclaiming our lands.
Paulberg manipulated the goyim so that his tribe could unrightfully claim the lands of the chosen people. He whispered lies about us, telling the goyim that we needed to be audited. We tried to suppress him.

End. About the Author Schlomo Bergstein was BORN in Israel and holds PhDs in Shoah history and Multicultural studies. He is a proud bank owning Rabbi. His father Lazare survived all three holocausts and is a continued source of inspiration for Rabbi Bergstein.