Daily Stormer The Most Censored Publication in History
Italy with protests too. Specifically anti-NATO involving thousands. All over where the Ukraine war is heading because these people believe there will be another World War raging across Europe if Russia is backed into a corner. pic.twitter.com/g65tblc7Ft
— GraphicW (@GraphicW5) February 26, 2023
Dick Hardy is a gumshoe reporter for the Daily Stormer, tracking down the stories that others won’t touch.
I headed to the war protest, still reeling from the ghastly sight of the bodies on the beach. My mind was racing with thoughts of the meaning of war on Russia and the NATO weapons that threatened us all. The shouting of the protesters pierced my ears like a bullet and I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a damn CIA beam weapon being used on the protest.
I stumbled upon a woman to interview and noticed she had a bat-like face, and for a moment I thought I was hallucinating. But as I came to my senses, I realized that this was no ordinary interview. The woman spoke in hushed tones, her words like poison in my ear. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something sinister at work here.
Anti-NATO protests are hitting Italy. Protesters in Genoa & Rome have taken to the streets against NATO’s WARMONGERING politicians leading Europe into WWIII. Here’s a sample: pic.twitter.com/AMHTZ9LKua
— Steve Hanke (@steve_hanke) February 27, 2023
Anti-NATO protests are hitting Italy. Protesters in Genoa & Rome have taken to the streets against NATO’s WARMONGERING politicians leading Europe into WWIII. Here’s a sample: pic.twitter.com/AMHTZ9LKua
— Steve Hanke (@steve_hanke) February 27, 2023
After the interview, I retreated to the hotel lobby, where the prostitutes were lurking about like zombies. Their faces twisted and contorted like the masks of the cultists in my dream. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was all some sort of sick joke, orchestrated by my tormentors.
Eventually, I made it back to my room, where I downed a handful of pills and chased them with vodka. The sound of the protesters still ringing in my ears, I bolted the door and scoured the room for any sign of surveillance. As I lay in bed, my mind raced with thoughts of my ex-wife and her wealthy new husband, as well as the potential motives of the publisher of the Daily Stormer.
The day had left me feeling hopeless and alone, like a lone wolf howling at the moon. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming, something big and terrible that would change everything. And as I drifted off into a fitful sleep, the visages of the bat-faced cultists and the seductive hotel worker danced in my dreams, haunting me with their grotesque beauty.
