I plan on going over to Brandon’s house after school and eating all of his mother’s home-cooked fancy feast. She slaved away on a hot stove — toiled in fact — all for two uncouth teens to spoil her ritual. For the fancy bounty feast was a mere illusion. As a matter of fact, when my little gypsy eyes were cold cocked and my gaze was fixed upon the fine curvature of Brandon’s underside, the maid put up a tray of nails and then cast a spell. Or maybe it wasn’t even a spell..? Consider for a moment that she chose to conjure a feast o’ plenty bountiful fancy feast. Anyway this is beside the point, pay attention to what I am about to say to you.
bountiful fancy feast©
Together we can win this. Only through comradery will we be able to weather what is about to come. Remember, this is an existential crisis. Never before has our race faced extinction en masse. After centuries of hard conflict, our European ancestors always managed to pull it together. Darkness loomed over the continent of Europe, like a specter of death. Only through millions of lost lives, blood shed by brothers, and homes broken, can we finally admit enough is enough.
Sorry, sometimes the other boys come out to play.
That was Martin.
I sold that shit and got some fresh new Keds and a bottle of Dewars. Then I drank the Dewars and puked in the Keds and threw them away. Why? You know why, you fucking pussy.
Also, I told all our old friends you are gay.
David “David Balabon” Balabon
4. also 5
I am a real catboi with real cat-dreams and real cat-emotions. I will not be reduced to a bit of internet cat-comedy for you to laugh at, damn it.
Furthermore, please respect my pronouns. Meow/meowself/herekittykitty.
How can you call me brother when you wont even share your oats with me? if I cant reach over and help myself to a couple biscuits what kind of family member are you? Sometimes i need sustinence as well. maybe even some of your redpill because if we are to believe the story of icarus is true your wings cannot become so powerful you fly to close to the sun and end up drowning so if you catch me drinking your redbull brother I am saving your life and you should thank me for it. a strong tribe must redistribute whatever we pay for at apple bees. appetizers included. for when I get the money and order a RIBeye steak you shall be the first able to take whatever you wish when my back is turned.
Yep. I got my big shout out on some shitty podcast called “The Daily Shoah”. That retarded batch of nobodies knows the truth. David Balabon is the best writer on the Starboard Stuff. Basically, I am the only motherfucker on this site worth reading.
That is why I walk around and just do whatever the fuck I want. Everything I touch turns to fucking gold. You think I stole your meme? No, I made it “dank” by touching it. Your meme fucking sucked until I got my hands on it Paul.
David “Thanks for the booze, Bradshaw” Balabon
P.S. Fuck all of you fucking plebs.
I’m a big fan of your work and was listening to your recent interview and wanted to correct you in a few places and point you towards someone you may find useful.
Firstly, you say you want to return to the 1950s (or 60s, I forget the exact year). Can you tell me how we return to that era when technology is so different now? I agree traditional values are how you make a functional society but we cannot return to solutions of the past, we must move forward and find out own solutions. It’s the same problem I have with the 1488ers, yes some National socialist policies were good but that was an idea for it’s time not our time. Birth control and the internet have made our environment completely different and we have to work within this new one or go extinct. We need to find ways to apply say traditional marriage in a world with tinder and consequence free casual sex, I don’t know exactly what that is but we must at least try to figure it out. Other wise we’re simply doomed and technology consumed our civilization and may indeed be a monster that consumes all civilizations who progress as far as we have. Technology reducing consequences and responsibility may just be a fact of life.
Continue reading “The Truth About Daniel Friberg And Greg Johnson And John Morgan”
Who am I? I’ll tell you who the fuck David Balabon is. I’m the motherfucker who drank your last 8 beers and tried to kiss your girlfriend. Then I loaded your dryer with your favorite shirts and shit in it. Yeah, I ordered Mexican steroids with your credit card. Because I’m David fucking Balabon, and that’s how the fuck I roll. Now, you answer me a question, bitch. Just what the fuck are you going to do about it? Nothing. Because nobody fucks with me, David Balabon.
You like these ears? This collar? Yeah? Oh, don’t worry. Aaron McNair hasn’t declawed me… yet. He likes my Catscratch Fever. He makes me purr like a Trek 820 coasting down a mountainside.
I am David Balabon, and for the right price, I can be your Catboi, too.