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I ported the following photo from the Goodbye, America blog because it’s just too good to secret it away at a samizdat subsidiary.
See how many signs of American decline you can identify in the pic.
Right off the bat, gloryhole faces. (He sucks cock, she sucks another man’s cock.)
Commenters answer the call,
1. Babel polyglot signage
2. Switchface in both genders
3. Speaking of genders, dimorphism at historical low [ed: srsly, her jaw is as big as his]
4. No children in sight
5. Obesity standard push button door
Sick of that open-mouthed tongue-flattened fake-enthusiasm smile. Been seeing it more and more over the past year, it seems to be replacing the duckface as the go-to selfie mask, along with the ubiquitous Snapchat eye enlargements and kitten ears.
I’m still trying to decide who’s the woman here.
Press button to open.
Button not working.
Signs of third-world decay:
1) Soyboy and birth control femme smiles.
2) Signs in many languages for citizens that are required to read/speak English.
3) Wearing “I Voted” stickers like a three year old child would receive for successfully using the toilet instead of wetting themselves.
4) Finally, the To Open Doors Press Button sign for fatties, but a sign under it that appears to read Button Not Working.
There’s a lie behind these smiles. A profound lie.
That someone else is meant to pay for.
That is what is so vexing.
You missed one. The woman allowed to vote. [ed: LOL]
The fact that there is even a taped up sign _at all_. Think about it. Why would a real nation, say with real traditions and standards and the will to enforce them, in a real city, have to tape up signs? All the real citizens would just know, like that question Tom Cruise asked in A Few Good Men about how a Marine would know where the mess hall was. There would be natural, organic communication and instruction and guidance. And newcomers would need to make their bones first before taking part in the political process.
There’s also a subsidiarity aspect to this. Where to vote, the seat of political power, would matter more. People would ask. Talk. It wouldn’t just be a once a year thing.
And it wouldn’t move around. It wouldn’t go from one apartment complex rec room to another based on the latest MBA stats analysis on voting patterns and tax records or likelihood for screwing around or whatever. It would be an honored location, fixed, firm; a place dedicated at least in part to that purpose by a people at least in part dedicated to a good political economic system —and willing to do the work to achieve that. Not some casually dressed immature drones of the propaganda matrix.
That’ll be all, America. That’ll be all.
Did we miss anything?
Will we miss this shit show when it’s gone?