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Transcript

SHOCKING VIDEO: Mark Infiltrates Yuge Nazi Rally in NYC

WARNING: May contain disturbing images, hate speech, and surf rock.

On Sunday morning, October the 27th, 2024 in the Year of Our Lord, I decided to embark on a secret mission into the Heart of Darkness. No, not a Voodoo hounfour in Port-au-Prince, or the depths of a Congolese turquiose mine.

I am referring to Times Square, New York City. That haunted arcade of midtown Manhattan, illuminated 24-7 by glowing portals mounted in the sky. Once upon a time, these portals were just twinkling signs and sigils. A name spelled out in noble gases. A blazing Nike swoosh.

Nowadays, each offers a window to an underworld filled with giants, who peer down with deadened eyes and sanguine smiles. What they typically see is a blend of goggling tourists and blind commuters, all of them moving like insects tracking chemtrails through a hive. It’s not a place where yours truly often finds himself, and only then by sheer necessity.

It sucks.

And yet, on this given Sunday, Times Square was going to suck much, much, much worse. For on this day, an invasion was set to take place. An invasion by the worst “people” alive.

No, not an army of Joe Rogan clones, or Anime convention cosplayers.

You know exactly who I mean.

The 4th, 5th and 6th Reichs (Photograph: Scott McIntyre/The New York Times)

The thought of placing myself in the midst of these deranged fascists was not my idea of a relaxing weekend, to say the least. Indeed, my friends

, and begged me to abort, fearing my inevitable death and ritual dismemberment at the hands of these redcapped über-goons.1

And yet, I realized that I owed it to you, my beloved readers, to provide a firsthand account of this Unholy Happening, this Woodstock of Der Wehrmacht.

And so I donned a clever disguise, to better blend in with my new surroundings….

…then off I flew, into the streets. Hurtling towards that outer darkness that had somehow burrrowed its way into the cockles of my homeland.

For those among you who don’t have the time — or the stomach — to watch the video in full, I have created a selection of still images, showcasing the assorted horrors on display.

BE FOREWARNED: Beyond this point, you shall see things you can never unsee, hear things you will never unhear. Smell things ohwaitnosmellsright.


Pre-game SpeechesPre-game Speeches
00:00 - 00:18
I catch a couple of early speakers. The first was wearing some kind of hateful blackface makeup, the other was Rudy Giuiliani. Not sure which one’s worse, frankly. Have you seen that Borat Thing OMG!
00:19 - 06:58
Nazis wearing blacface, brownface, yellowface and jewface patrol W 34th street with ruthless efficiency. I’m pretty sure I even spotted some asshole in indian Native American guardianface. Luckily, their sensors are confused by my choice of albaster kekface, so I pass through their ranks almost entirely unseen.
07:09 - 7:40
I have an run-in with a group of cleverly camouflaged Neo-Sturmabteilung shock troopers, one of whom attempts to poison my mind with some kind of MKUltra leaflet. Yeah, nice try, Klaus. Believe it or not, this won’t be the last time me and him tangle.
10:10 - 11:26
More blackface and brownface, on both sides of the merch tables. I am dumbstruck about how brazen these lowlifes are. Don’t they remember what happened to Ted Danson and Charlie Chan?! In yet another grotesque example of cultural appropriation, one is trying to brand the phrase “Trump, Bitch” for his faux-ghetto T-shirt grift.
14:30 - 16:34
As I near the defiled sanctum, the obscenities deepen. I run afoul of something calling itself the “Dominican American Republican Club” — a merciless parody of legal immigrants who, for some reason, resist the notion of open borders for their blood-sacred brownkin linejumpers. Luckily a white lady was on hand to show them the error of their ways. And beyond her brave and lonesome station, a mass of rebel faithful…

I can go no further.

No, really. The buzzer went off.

You see, I’ve been setting a timer on my Substack work, and trying to stick to it. As some of you know, I can’t justify my writing on paper. It doesn’t pay the bills, and I got a bunch of ‘em.

On the other hand, maybe you could help. Imagine what the Catman could do, reporting on the ground in NYC during all the Love Riots and Truth Lootings that will surely follow in the wake of Trump’s election. Sally knows the score.

Well, sort of. It’s actually only $0.23 per day for a monthly membership (or $0.16 per day yearly).

Holmes and Davidson Opticians - It's Tuesday, some offer 2 for 1 on a  Tuesday... We offer it every day 🤩 🤯Two pairs of glasses for the price of  one. Pop in

Anyway, enjoy the video. Stay tuned to the end for a surprise revelation, which had Dark Bisone aching to squeeze in one last word before game time.

Get out there and vote, ladies and gents.

Even if we can’t make it too big to rig this time, we can haunt their dreams with numbers.

1

Naw, just kidding. They were, like, “Yeah dude, go do it! Sounds cool.” But, for the record, Dame Bisone was a bit less… enthusiastic about my Sunday plans.

The Cat Was Never Found
The Podcast Was Never Found
Host Mark Bisone discusses a range of topics with heterodox writers, thinkers, and doers of the Substack dissident scene.
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