The Ellis Island of the South
by Douglas Mercer
I DON’T know if you noticed, but the state of Georgia, in the heart of Dixie, currently is scraping the bottom of the barrel by sending a Jew and Negro to the United States Senate. It’s true that the White people who ran against them were pathetic cucks, corporate drones, and all around non-entities — but still, a Jew and Negro? It’s disgusting that they’ve fallen that low.
They say that Atlanta now bills itself as the “City Too Busy to Hate.” If that’s true, they need to slow down, get their priorities straight, and start hating.
Our lives depend on it.
One of the repercussions of this dedication to “not hating” is that Atlanta and environs have become a magnet for Third World human weeds, and the powers-that-are even go so far as to say this is a good thing.
Between 2015 and 2019 the small Atlanta suburb of about 13,000 residents ranked first in the nation for resettling the highest number of refugees per capita. The distinction has earned Clarkston the nickname ‘Ellis Island of the South.’
Distinction? It’s black mark of shame.
The city of Clarkston is paradigmatic of the Great Replacement. White Flight leads to a decaying city and a decaying city leads to the world’s human waste flowing in. It’s a devil’s bargain. The city fathers have set themselves (and us) on course for a suicide mission.
Better to let poisonous tumbleweeds blow through.
Clarkston, Georgia is noted for its ethnic diversity, and is often referred to as the most diverse square mile in America and the Ellis Island of the South. In the 1990s, refugee resettlement programs programs identified Clarkston as a good fit for displaced persons of many backgrounds. The rental market was open, residents were moving farther out from the Atlanta urban core. At present students attending Clarkston High School come from over 50 countries; the local mosque (Masjid al-Momineen) has a diverse and sizable congregation; and over half the population is estimated by some to be foreign born.
“Residents moving out from the urban core” is a particularly anodyne way to say White people are fleeing the coming apocalypse.
“Urban core” is a synonym for feral Negroes who have yet to be brought to heel.
Calling yourself the “Ellis Island of the South” or bragging about being the “most diverse square mile in America” is a lot like saying you’re the town that loves human waste, and please bring more.
You might as well just change the name to S___hole City and be done with it.
Like all of America, Clarkston was not all that long ago very nearly a White paradise, a suburb of Atlanta which enjoyed White First World living with all the amenities and privileges that go with that. But then, as the dark tide of history in the form of Negroes began to encroach on their beautiful White spaces, the White people got the Hell out. And why not? Who wants to hang around and have your throat slit or your car jacked? The story goes that when the decent folk had abandoned Clarkston, some Federal bureaucrats started to drool in their drool bowls at the prospect of what Clarkston had become. They saw an emerging seedy city with everything abandoned, things starting to look run down and shady, with home prices plummeting to the basement, so what do you suppose they thought of?
That’s the “solution” they came up with. White people move out and the neighborhood goes to Hell — so they decide to turn their city into a foreign mecca right on the edge of Atlanta. Sherman was kinder.
Though there is a perverse sort of logic to it: Such a seedy rat hole will make the “refugees” feel right at home. It’s the kind of place they create, the kind of place they happily fester and wallow in.
With affordable multi-family housing, left vacant by white flight, and access to public transportation into Atlanta, federal resettlement agencies took notice.
Right, like the vulture circling above takes notice of carrion.
And the thing is that Clarkston is only a little more than one square mile and nearly a tenth of that is water. Given that the Black cretins can’t swim (I’ve seen what happens when those boats sink), they’re really packing them in like sardines that have already gone bad.
This city’s population had dipped to around 6,000, but the influx of scum has boosted it back to 13,000.
Better to let the tumbleweeds roll through.
The current woeful state of the city is told via the tale of the tape:
It used to be a green mile, now it’s a Black, Brown, and Yellow mile. A more revolting development is scarcely imaginable.
A Web site that ranks American high schools places Clarkston High School below average in every metric they measure.
Suffice it to say that no one in inviting this imported detritus to bring the potato salad to the MENSA picnic.
If this is the New South, I for one want no part of it.
The city is half dog’s breakfast, half witches’ brew, and full time hornets’ nest. It cannot end well when you turn a white picket fence town into a rotting dirty favela inside of a quarter century
Clarkston is a federally-designated “refugee resettlement community.”
They call it the Ellis Island of the South because when the refugees pour in to Georgia, they tend to go there first.
Channel 2 has learned that nearly 1,100 Afghan refugees will be coming to Georgia following the Taliban takeover of the country.
“We owe it to those individuals to protect them,” Republican Governor Brian Kemp said last month. “ they need to be properly vetted, but they don’t need to be allowed to be hunted down by a bunch of Taliban terrorists over in Afghanistan.”
Man, I remember when Kemp signed the Voter ID Law and the “woke” of the world immediately lost what was left of their collective minds because he did so in front of an “antebellum style portrait.” What it was, in fact, was a bucolic scene of a rural road passing a picket fence leading up to a plantation. By now, however, the notion that Kemp is any kind of “secret White nationalist,” or that he gives even one whit about his race, is wholly risible. Why, he’s on the record wanting to import those towel-headed child rapists. No White nationalist would even contemplate doing something as heinous as that.
And if the Taliban were to be successful in hunting them down, they wouldn’t be here committing sex crimes against our kids, like that invader recently did in Wisconsin. So why not let them just be hunted down? — and let us avoid dealing with them at all? It’s a reasonable question which deserves a careful answer. Because the one thing I can tell you is that once they’re here, Stone Age savages really don’t waste much time getting right down to the business of pedophilia and strangulation and interracial gang rape.
It’s bred in their blood and it’s bred in their bones.
The Mayor of little Clarkston is ready to assist in the National Hari-kari.
Clarkston Mayor Beverly Burks said that when they arrive, they’ll be welcomed. Clarkston is already home to more than 50 different nationalities.
50? It’s only a mile square and some change. From space it would look like a tiny blackhead, if all the piled up garbage didn’t block the view.
“Clarkston is what I like to say is the melting pot for the United States,” Burks said.
What I’d like to say is you are a treasonous bitch who should serve long sentences in jail for your war crimes.
Some 40,000 refugees have come through Georgia over the past three decades, and for most, Clarkston was the first stop.
Refugees constitute roughly half the local population, representing at least 60 nationalities. It’s a tiny town, 2 square miles tops, so you can really see the impact — in the people walking down the streets wearing hijabs and traditional African garb, and in the shopping centers where a Vietnamese gift shop neighbors an Eritrean cafe.
That is, it’s an act of war perpetrated by the ruling class, where scum are living cheek by jowl with proletarian rabble, where riff-raff are wedged in tight next to plebs.
What a nightmare! This is Dixie, after all. A Jew and Negro in the Senate and ten to twenty city blocks of scores of incomprehensible dog languages being screeched out. Weird clothing, perverse customs, wicked smells, inedible foods, bizarre voodoo rites, strange gods, and stranger customs — all locked in a fatal embrace in a once-pristine land. It reminds you why you became a confirmed xenophobe in the first place.
In 2009 , Clarkston saw its local population jump about 60 percent to the roughly 13,000 residents it holds now, according to census data.
Georgia is among states that receive the highest amount of refugees for resettlement, and has resettled more than 37,000 refugees since 1993. Clarkston receives a large portion of these refugees.
Known as the “most diverse square mile in America,” Clarkston is a suburb of Atlanta and is home to refugees representing 60+ countries and 110+ dialects.
It’s nothing to be proud of. It will kill us soon enough.
* * *
The diverse City of Clarkston owes much of its beginnings to the Georgia Railroad. In as early as the 1830s, the railroad started constructing rail lines that, by 1845, would connect surrounding Atlanta towns (including Clarkston) with merchants of Athens, with outlets in Augusta and South Carolina.
Where did the name come from?
Originally referred to as “New Siding” (named after Jake New, a Section Foreman that worked for the Georgia Railroad), the City of Clarkston was officially named as such by Governor Alexander H. Stevens on December 12th, 1882. Clarkston is named to honor Colonel W.W. Clark, a Director of the Georgia Railroad and a Covington Lawyer.
Since the railroad made commuting to Atlanta so convenient, Clarkston became a bustling community of homeowners who worked in Atlanta — one of the South’s first true “suburban” communities. These commuters accounted for most of Clarkston’s earlier growth.
A folktale from the turn of the century mentions “Goatsville” and “Angora Heights” as alternate names given to Clarkston. It was said that, in the early 1900s, many Clarkstonians owned up to twenty goats! They supposedly were associated with a high level of prestige. These goats were believed to be the renowned Angora variety, and they needed to graze out in the open.
This led to the nickname “Goatsville”, which was later altered to the more prestigious-sounding “Angora Heights”. These names have undoubtedly faded from modern Clarkston nomenclature, but Clarkston High School still pays homage to this history through their school mascot, the Angora Goat.
Not only has it faded from Clarkston’s nomenclature, but ten will get you twenty that among the racial can of worms that inhabits the town now, not one in twenty even knows what “nomenclature” is — if that.
* * *
“Welcome to the most diverse square mile in America.” Which is little like saying that they’ve packed tons of high explosive in a very small and airtight space, so when the blast goes off it will be unrivalled in its magnitude.
Beginning in the 1990s, refugee asylum programs identified Clarkston as an ideal place to resettle the new immigrants due to the close proximity to metro Atlanta, public transportation and affordable apartment housing. The city has embraced the influx of immigrants and refugees and today half of the city’s residents are foreign-born and hail from over 50 countries across six continents and the City proudly proclaims itself as the Ellis Island of the South.
Welcome to Sewer City, the town that forgot how to hate.
McNeely has been in the Atlanta area for nearly 40 years, and has watched towns like Clarkston transform from the small closed Southern community it once was. He says he has friends who feel uncomfortable with the influx of refugees.
“Small closed Southern community” is a synonym for paradise. Small, closed, and Southern were all the tipoff you needed. Now it’s still small, but it’s “open,” and surely not Southern. Now it’s crawling with Black and Brown vermin from scores and scores of nations, there are dozens of mutually unintelligible languages assaulting the ears, and life is not worth much more than a nickel. It is Hell.
Apparently there’s a restaurant called “Refugee Ranch,” or something like that, in Clarkston. It’s kind of the go-to place for dark-skinned confabs. If you make the mistake of going there, don’t listen too carefully — because if you do, the click-click-click sounds from the epiglottis of a rail-thin 6’6″ buck Sudanese tribesman will give you the eerie feeling that you’ve left America and entered a Lovecraftian swamp.
At Refugee Ranch, trash is piled several feet high, goats roam in between the tables, chickens wander around — and if you want, they’ll give you a machete to take an innocent animal out in the alley to see some blood spurt. Macabre and baroque blood rituals are performed every Saturday night at 8:00 pm sharp (seating is limited, so get there early), cockroaches crawl in the kitchen and from time to time you can see them sliding down your scone, recently produced human excrement adorns the floors. All of this is done in the interest of helping the vulnerable refugees avoid “culture shock” and provide them with a smooth transition — a link, if you will, from their old to their new home.
In case you haven’t heard about the Refugee Ranch Rewards Program — when you buy four cups of coffee, your daughter gets gang-raped by an Afghan, a Guatemalan, and a Somali free of charge. You don’t even have to get the card punched, those rapacious ghouls work on the “honor” system.
This is the human material we are bringing into our country. Not to improve our nation, but to ruin it. That’s the plan as spelled out in the codex of some UN High Commissioners.
Wibabara arrived in Clarkston when she was 18 from the Congo. The dark female with the odd name has parents who immigrated to the Congo from Rwanda, which is hard to say if it’s a step up or down, but most likely it’s was stepping from one pile to another. Back in 1998 the Second Congo War broke out (who knew there had been a first?) between these two dog countries and naturally, given the savage state of Africa, Wibabara’s family was targeted by the Congolese as she hailed from Rwanda. Apparently the Congolese have not been infested with Jewish Organizations, Christian charities, and scores of liberal do-gooder refugee relief organizations to tell them they should welcome the stranger in their midst, and instead they just hunt any invaders down like mad dogs and swiftly kill them. It’s not a half bad idea really, but in the event if they don’t do it quick enough, the formerly hunted end up in camps in Kenya before being jetted to Clarkston and being coddled; and pretty soon a kike and a Congoid are up in the Senate from Georgia.
That’s when the creeks begin to rise.
You can hear all that at Refugee Ranch if you sit and listen. And you don’t have to look hard at all to see America going to the dogs.
Mehlinger says it was a difficult but necessary adjustment many of his neighbors were unwilling to make.
That’s right, a lot of his former neighbors didn’t want to watch the painful process of everything they and their ancestors had worked so hard for, for so long, go down the drain and circle the bowl — so they hightailed it out of Clarkston like they were fleeing the plague. Mehlinger stayed and weathered the Brown storm. His business couldn’t turn a profit selling things good and decent Americans might want to buy, so he surrendered his pride, hired a Vietnamese flunky who told him what invaders like her were looking for, and now his store is full of products from the dirtier parts of the world in addition to wicked smells of unknown provenance.
Who would want to sell his soul and country like that?
“The whole city was a lot of American businesses. And if you drive around now I’m one of the few left. A lot of the people just either decided to get up and go or they didn’t change, and they got left behind. Some people who had been living here for years and years, they were afraid their home values were going to go down, they were afraid crime would go up.”
Mehlinger is the token White guy in a dark sea of carnage.
Crime is up; home values are down. Litter is everywhere, and there’s literal trash on the street too. But if Mehlinger has his way, dog on a stick can be had for three bucks by any “in the know” (or unwary) traveler.
Soliman is an immigrant from Pampanga in the Philippines. She works at Refuge Coffee Co. The nonprofit employs and trains refugees and immigrants, like Soliman, and serves as a popular watering hole in the small town. Soliman says Refuge Coffee helped her settle in to her new community.
When you hear the expression “non-profit” you know you’re about to be had.
“My coworker from Ethiopia eats injera Ethiopian flatbread, I eat injera, too. They eat by hand, just like me, back in my country.”
Long ago Peter Damian, a hermit and ascetic, criticized a Venetian princess for her excessive delicacy: “Such was the luxury of her habits that she deigned not to touch her food with her fingers but would cut it into small pieces on a certain gold instrument with two prongs and thus carry it to her mouth.”
Now we’ve regressed to the low level of finger foods, to daubing this on that and stuffing it your pie hole.
After immigrating to the US nearly 20 years ago, Barakoti now runs the Refugee Women’s Network in Atlanta. She works with many refugees in Clarkston and says the challenge is tackling unease and the fear of the unknown.
The immigrants go there and set up “refugee networks” and hire other “refugees” to bring in other refugees and refugee networks (some of which can better be described as gangs) until a whole small country’s worth of dark and hostile tribesmen is rampaging down “American” streets. It’s like the full circle of Hell. A ramifying and exponential never-ending chamber of horrors. Wash, rinse, extinguish the White race.
“If you go to a Nepali grocery store, you just see the Nepali people only, right? If you go to a Burmese store, you see the Burmese people.” In 1998, during the civil war in Somalia, Osman’s home came under attack. She watched as her husband and all of her children were gunned down.
They need to work on their shots.
In the original draft of the Constitution, it was forbidden to let anyone with the name Osman into the country.
The Refugee Women’s Network provides job training opportunities and employment for resettled refugees.
And then they told two friends. You know the ramifying effects of that.
Uhuru Dancers, Inc. is a community based non-profit organization that has been empowering the Atlanta area through African Culture since 1989. Uhuru Dancers was founded by Toni Young, Shaheedah Enahora, Tina Scoope, and Celeste Anthony. It is the oldest professional African dance company in the Metro Atlanta Area. At least 100 members have passed through the ranks of Uhuru in its many years of operation.
No one was ever empowered by African culture. Check the record. A few had their bones dug up to use as powdered fetish objects, but it never empowered anyone. And “oldest professional African dance company”? Good god, how many do they have?
Oo’s family came to Clarkston from Myanmar, the country formerly known as Burma, as political asylees.
In an unfortunately discarded draft of the Constitution, it was forbidden that anyone whose last name consisted of the same letter written down two times be allowed entry. They were a squared-away bunch, some of those founders, but the liberals had final say.
Oo, now 27, has little recollection of the circumstances that led his family to resettle in Clarkston. He had lived in Yangon, at the time Myanmar’s capital and most populous city. The violence, wrought by the military and by Buddhist extremists who wanted Rohingya Muslim people gone, occurred outside the city, in villages where the stories don’t really get out.
Too bad it isn’t the tribesmen who “don’t really get out.”
It seems like wherever they come from is war-torn and violent and people are cutting each other’s throats. It was like Minnesota in the summer of 2020 — or your town in ten years.
This hodge-podge of human excrement, these shreds and patches of human garbage, this racial grab bag, they sit around and swill coffee all day and reminisce about the unabated violence in their real homelands and how now they’ve made it to the White land to leech off it until it dies.
One day someone Brown in Clarkston met someone named Usman Sule. He supposedly said:
“Someone is going to walk past us while we are having this conversation and they’ll be like, ‘Where are you from?’ I’ll say, ‘I’m from Africa.’ Then, the African from the next table will look around and be like, ‘Where in Africa are you from?’ Then, I tell him I’m from Nigeria. A Nigerian would look at me and be like, ‘OK, where in Nigeria are you from?’”
I’m from America, Usman. Now get the hell out.
He decided to call their venture Suryana Cuisine, and hopes that, in the future, the business will offer job opportunities for refugees in the community. Already, the two have prepared meals for groups with Friends of Refugees, and for a recent event at their mosque, Masjid Al-Momineen, in Clarkston.
This won’t end well.
Murray hires refugees and offers them career training. Her shop is the de facto town center, where native and foreign born alike gather. This diverse community is the heart of Clarkston and a symbol of the American dream.
More of a lurid phantasmagoria than a dream, let alone an American one. A female there recently said that back in Rwanda when her family’s side lost the war, it was the rule that members of the opposing side could come to their home and steal anything they wanted. It’s like that in America, too, but the crazy thing is we invited them in.
Well we didn’t, but the people we “elected” did. And of course they never come nearer to these refugees than they do to loving their homeland.
And the thing is, replacement is the law of history. It happens all the time. But in the past it almost always was the result of military conquest. But this time it’s due to the treason and subornation of our “leaders.”
The dock at the war crimes tribunals will be thick with thieves.
* * *
God again instructed — Outsource yourself until the help comes. What became Friends of Refugees — an organization that aspires to empower refugees through opportunities that provide for their well-being, education, and employment, as its mission statement expresses — originally grew out of the Clarkston International Bible Church (CIBC).”
Here come the Christ cucks. Has anyone ever calculated how much ill has been done to White societies in the name of Jesus Christ? It has to be untold and astronomical. Those Christian refugee missionaries whose hearts simply bleed black and brown descended on that minuscule speck of a town like piranha descend on cattle in the river — until in a few brief moments they pick it clean of flesh, leaving only skeletal remains.
Northeast Atlanta has proven to be one of the most strategic places in the world to reach the nations and is a great launching pad for fulfilling the Great Commission. In the past 10 years, over one million people have immigrated to Atlanta from all around the world. Clarkston, which is located right outside of the city, is home to thousands of refugees who have tragically had to flee for their lives from their own countries. This creates a unique melting-pot of culture within this one little famous town.
Ah “the nations”! The “Great Commission”! This is insane Jew doctrine culled straight from the infamously treacly Appendix to the Torah. All about turning the other cheek and Good Samaritans and the last being first and all that unspeakable rot which has rotted the brains of Europeans through the centuries. Now they have a great boon apparently: The lazy bastards don’t even have to travel the world to spread their soul poison; now the world is coming to them to get a heaping helping. And better still, every wog in the world, it seems, is massing and congregating in a single tiny point on the map so their fat Christian butts don’t even have to go as far as Cleveland or Milwaukee. Why, they can just head to Clarkston and “achieve” what former missionaries and gospel-mongers had to work hard and take years to accomplish — that is, seduce people into a suicidal mania.
What a sweet deal for some vile people!
Clarkston opens the door for you to experience incredible cross-cultural interactions and relationships.
When you look at ethnically diverse cities like Atlanta, you can begin to imagine what Jerusalem must have looked like in the first century. The beginning of the book of Acts records that the gospel spread quickly from Jerusalem to many Gentile nations because it was a city where people from all over the world had gathered. This international hub is now home to immigrants, refugees, and international students from almost every nation on the planet. And within that vast diversity, we’ve chosen to focus on Clarkston and the refugees that have been placed there.
It’s true that the Christ Myth took root in a rootless and debased world. A world that was in decline as the former founding stocks had been tempted by expansion into the Middle East (always a mistake) and made decadent by the riches of the Roman Empire. Those rulers neglected the first rule of White statecraft: keep it White. They got greedy and believed they could have a multiracial Empire based on something as thin and nebulous as “citizenship” instead of the only thing on which you can base a nation: race and blood. It was a Roman poet who lamented that Rome had become the sewer of the world; a later Roman said that ideologically Rome was a hothouse for exotic and shameful ideas, the place where all crazy notions and beliefs of benighted races came to find a welcome home. Now, apparently, Atlanta is just like that: a scrap heap of human garbage, and, as always, like packs of feral hyenas, the Christian sharks flock in and infect with a preposterous ideology.
We’ve heard of nations within nations, and that America is a nation of nations — which is a contradiction in terms, which is why our enemies use the phrase. But now we have all the nations ingathering in a stretch of land you could run across in five minutes, it’s like the nations packed in and compressed by a trash compactor.
This will not end well.
History is our guide in the matter.
It is within this extraordinary and unique context that we offer cross-cultural missions training for followers of Jesus. If you’re seeking to catch a glimpse of God’s heart for the nations, be equipped to be an effective disciple-maker, or invest in a season of holistic preparation for cross-cultural work, consider spending some time with us in Clarkston.
Rather, consider fleeing to a White redoubt where we’re still the overwhelming majority. Our sending the Luftwaffe to buzz by to take care of some badly needed business.
* * *
Refugee Thrive is a student-led initiative that collects and provides clothing items to refugee families living in Clarkston, Georgia, which is home to refugees from every corner of the world.
Family Heritage Foundation (FHF) is a Christian Ministry focused on serving refugee families and at-risk children in Clarkston, Georgia. FHF offers after school programs, summer camp, adult computer classes, and youth development program. Clarkston, Georgia is home to many refugees in the Atlanta area.
When these Christians say “family heritage,” thry don’t mean the heritage of your family. No. That has been proscribed and forbidden. The New South is no place for White men.
The green eyeshade liberal bureaucrat crowd and the ever-horrific UN High Commissioners eye Clarkston for destruction and desecration. You can see that they almost view it as a laboratory, a small test-tube-like place where they can see how much “diversity” they can pack into the smallest of places. It’s the canary in the coal mine and the canary is dead. Though the international zombies go on living.
Since 1979, World Relief’s Atlanta office assisted thousands of refugee families who resettled in Clarkston , helping them find apartments and apply for jobs, enrolling their children in local schools, bringing them to medical appointments, and giving them a hand with paperwork.
In Clarkston, a third of the population is foreign-born, and 60 languages are spoken in just over a square mile. Residents fear any threat to the resettlement program in the nation at large could affect the atmosphere of welcome that Murray and others have fought so hard to cultivate.
When Trump bruited about the idea of somewhat reducing the inflow of “refugees,” they quaked in their lily-livered boots that their racket might be over. Who would keep the lights on? How would they pay the bills? Who would be left to buffalo? Who to bamboozle? Where would their scam be then? The “refugee” advocates are insects bilking the White majority in order to deliver them a body blow with the never-ending “flows” of Browns and Blacks. The Third World hordes and gangs are their life-blood and mother’s milk, and they suck at the teats like there’s no tomorrow (and there isn’t one). But not to worry — the senescent dementia patient in the White House has just upped the ostensible legal “refugee” intake number, so there is joy in the Mud Towns. They’ll be living high on your wallet; they’ll be like pigs queueing up the trough; they’ll ride the gravy train right across the broken back of White America.
The assisted suicide just got a lot more helpers.
Moreover, as an evangelical Christian, Murray is grieved to see how receiving refugees into our country has become such a politicized issue. “Systemic unwelcoming is counter to the scriptural mandate to provide for the vulnerable,” she said. “I see daily the impact of our unwelcoming.”
Yes, systematic unwelcoming is counter to the Scriptures, thank the gods. No Africans after sundown. And during the day they must keep their hands in the air.
Organizations that aid the resettlement of refugees in Clarkston include: Friends of Refugees, Refugees Family, International Rescue Committee of Atlanta. New American Pathways, and World Relief Atlanta.
And the grift that they’ve got going makes the “refugee” boondoggle like a revolving-door Venus fly trap. Once they’re here, you can never be rid of them. Then they in turn join the flim-flam and bring in yet more of their fellow “refugees” in turn. It’s a never-ending cycle of dispossession. Think the Jews and Christians would be satisfied to bring in a few million and then stop? No way; the “flow” must never end as far as they’re concerned. Don’t believe me? Just ask them.
To meet with Oo, I visited the Atlanta-area headquarters of the International Rescue Committee (IRC), situated in an office park north of Clarkston. Fourteen years after he arrived in America, Oo now works for the IRC, helping new refugees. His job in the IRC’s Youth Department is part of the committee’s year-old Connect to Success program, which works with refugee youth who are not enrolled in school and provides them with career-readiness workshops.
“It’s a full circle,” he said, sitting in a conference room near his cubicle, wearing a button-down shirt and deck shoes. “As a refugee, my clients get to see that, ‘Hey, this guy is from Burma. He was where I am right now.’”
It’s the full circle of Hell.
* * *
In the early 1990s, refugees began to be resettled in the community of Clarkston, GA, a small town located near metro Atlanta. During this time, the population of Clarkston grew 34% as refugee families from over 150 different ethnic groups found a supportive urban environment for development and growth. Since this process began, some 60,000 refugees have begun their journeys as New Americans in this area. With so many ethnic groups represented within and around the city, Clarkston has been called “the most diverse square mile in America” by the New York Times Magazine.
As recently as the 1950s Clarkston was essentially unpaved rural farmland, but over the course of the 1960s it developed into one of those so-called “bedroom communities,” a suburban haven from inner city Atlanta, a nice little slice of White paradise. In 1980, Congress passed the truly baleful Refugee Act, formally adopting the United Nations definition of a “refugee.” It was then that the sad future of this small town came to be seen in embryo, as Vietnamese began entering the area. This, combined with rising crime, forced Whites to move further out to safer and more “high end” suburbs, and Clarkston became a so-called “designated resettlement community” — and not just any resettlement community: it became the concept’s Ground Zero.
It reminds me of that old joke: “How many refugees can you fit in a mile square city? Not as many as in a landfill.”
A fraction of a fraction of a fraction of the world’s refugees live — or have lived — in Clarkston. And yet refugees have put this Georgia city on the map.”
A fraction of a fraction indeed — there are another 80 million who want to come, we’re told.
* * *
Here are just some of the places from which these invaders — let’s call them what they are — have arrived Clarkston:
Central African Republic
It reads like the suicide note of a defeated nation.
They threw in a few Whites — very few — from the Balkans one time, to make it look like they aren’t trying to kill us. But they are.
* * *
There was a brief moment in time when someone might have done something, when some fed-up people said enough is enough.
In 2013, Clarkston’s former mayor helped enact a ban on resettling new refugees. A couple of years later, when Ted Terry was elected mayor, the moratorium was lifted. He set in motion an accepting attitude within the government that continues to bend the community toward inclusion as more refugees become citizens and vote and run for office.
“I think we finally got to kind of a critical mass of voters that were like, actually we think refugees are a positive thing. And we don’t want to go backwards in Clarkston’s history. We want to look ahead and go forward,”
Clarkston, a city where more than half of the 13,000 residents are foreign-born, is likely to receive an influx of Afghan refugees through New American Pathways and other resettlement agencies in the coming months.
Let’s see, the Afghans have already been in the country for little more than a cup of coffee and we’ve already had a child sex case, a case of suffocation and strangulation, and an attempted gang rape. Every single politician, journalist, or otherwise public figure who has advocated for bringing them here has blood on his hands; they’ve committed nothing less than a war crime and should be treated accordingly. We’ll hold the trials in Clarkston.
Clarkston has become a starter city for many refugees, earning it the nickname the Ellis Island of the South. It offers affordable rental housing and is small enough for newcomers to walk to schools or its small downtown, as well as offering enough public transportation to get around Atlanta’s two largest counties.
In the movie Conspiracy, Kenneth Branagh as Reinhard Heydrich notes that the difficulty in getting the Jews to emigrate is that no country would take them. Then Stanley Tucci as Adolf Eichmann whispers in his ear, and then Heydrich says, “Oh yes, not even America, where the Jews whisper in FDR’s ear, not even they will take our Jews.”
“I saw my own origins in the people settling here anew, just as my family — Jews fleeing persecution in Eastern Europe — planted new roots in the American South. The crisis that unfolded around my grandparents, in the wake of World War II, prompted much of the legislative infrastructure that today allows refugees to make their homes in Clarkston.”
And there it is. The truth.
The world in the 1930s was split into two kinds of countries: those who wanted to be rid of their Jews, and those trying to keeps Jews out.
That is, that was the last time that sane social policy regarding the social fact of Jews reigned. And it reigned, at least relatively, unapologetically. But after the war, the Jews began to put out (and continue to put our) massive propaganda about how “evil” it was to for those countries to have barred Jews from entry, thereby “consigning them to the flames” (so they say). And the quote above is correct; it was this drive to apotheosize the “German Jewish refugee” of the 1930s and transfer that sympathy to the all the refugees of the world which was a prime driver of the contemporary notion of “refugees” and their so-called “rights” and the so-called “obligation” of White countries to take them in.
So when you read news of the “refugee” debacle, remember that the SS St. Louis, and the fact that its lice-ridden human cargo ware denied entry (which we must must must believe was a horrible act), is the backdrop and background for what we see today. Starting soon after the war, it was “Never Forget” and “Never Again,” and the idea of denying any “refugee” a perch from which to rape our children seemed to our rulers downright Hitlerite.
The Jews are at the helm of America’s destruction. They always have been and always will be — until we stop the sordid mess.
Never forget — never forgive.
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In post-normal America, towns have taken to conferring on themselves (via traitorous leaders) cutesy names like “The Town That Loved Refugees,” or “The Most Diverse Square Mile In America” or “The Ellis Island of the South.” What we need are some cities that will put up big billboards at the edge of their jurisdictions which read “Note well: Our White city begins here” or “No non-Whites — before or after sundown.”
Even before the Refugee Act of 1980, groups have been resettling refugees in Georgia, “In Clarkston, we can see the whole world in a small city. And, here, sometimes, we can even see the universe.”
No, what you see is a Hell hole.
Mucyo would tell each of her clients, as they finally arrived at the last step, just before crossing the threshold into citizenship, “After this, you are not a refugee. You are an American.”
No, you were and are a leech. Mere paper could never paper that over. Some things never change.
“This is your new home. It is a place of refuge.”
For the sane and those with a penchant for the truth, it’s a racial quagmire, a brewing cauldron of race war.
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