FAKE NEWS- The Gavin McInnes Interview the Left Wishes They Had

Staring into the Heart of Darkness

(Best read in a gravelly whisper)

So there I was…. sitting in the back of an American car flanked by Proud Boys with my head encased in a dark black bag.  The smell of gasoline fill my nose, and with be ever present in the company of these mysterious  men.   Music played off in the distance that sounded like “AAHHHAHAAHaaakkkukuahhhhhhayayayahhhhhhhhhh”.   They were taking me to a place they called “the Compound”, to meet their leader Gavin McInnes.

It’s hard to separate the man from the myth sometimes, but I guess that’s just my job.  I’m just a journalist, no more, no less.  I shape the minds of the people by doing the stuff they weren”t cool enough to think of.  Comes with the territory.  We got out of the black and yellow Hummer and they pulled the bag off my head.

“Hey, go easy on the man!  He’s an American.”

A man came toward me and moved like a harlequin.  About 2 dozen cameras, phones, and devices hung from his neck and seemed to be live streaming all at once.

“I’m Sal.” he said “They can be a little rough, but they’re just afraid you come to take him away”.

“I came to talk to Gavin.” I assured him.  The cocaine made him glow.

“Oh. man, no.  You don’t talk to Gavin…. You listen to him”.  The soul ran away from his eyes .  We stood in silence.  “We are all his children.  Come on.  You’ll see.  I’ll take you to see the man”.

We walked through a sea of black and yellow Fred Perry Polo shirts.  The men stood guard, steely eyed  and stone faced.  As we entered this “Compound” I noticed a thin wild eyed man awkwardly hiding behind a desk.

Anthony?”

I recognized  this broken man as radio show host Anthony Cumia from my research (journalists like me do research all the time, no big deal).  The man spoke; “Please.. I, I can’t control him.  I’m sorry.  I tried, I tried.  Please.  Turn back!”

I looked at Sal and he nervously smiled pointed to a doorway and said “He can be mean, man, but he can be right.  Gavvo’s been expecting you”.  (He lets his friends call him Gavvo.)  The room got darker as I entered it.  I saw a figure in the corner doing like a ton of pull ups on a pull up bar he must have totally had installed.  From the video and pictures I saw, he looked much different.  I remember him as a 6.5, but he was like a 9.3, 9.1 at worst.  He was totally jacked.  He was shirtless and wearing army fatigues that showed off his “V”.   I wasn’t sure if my brain could keep up with the game of mental chess about to be played, I was still pretty wasted from the night before…. luckily so was he.

McInnes passed me a blunt and I took a hit, then he complimented the sweet bomber jacket I was totally wearing.  He could see in my eyes I was ready to get down to business.  “You got questions kid, ask away”.  Now comes the fun part.

I mustered up my resolve and began:

“Are you a fascist?” I asked strongly.

“Faggot” he responded.  My blood ran cold.  I never heard such language.  I mean, I’ve heard rumors of such a word existing but when he uttered it, it hit me like a bucket of cold water.  Every cell in my brain was working to disavow him all at once.  He was the jungle.

“Don’t you know what game this is?  We’re beyond fascism.  Bet you want to know if I’m a racist too?  Well let me set your mind at ease.  MINORITY!”

I was frozen as if looking into the eyes of a cobra.  A small figure shuffled out of a dark corner.  He was in a tattered tuxedo and dirty white gloves.  My sources told me he had Japanese/Hispanic descent.  His name was Ryan “Katsu” Rivera.  Black shoe polish covered his face and it appeared he had been recently beaten.   The man danced.  Sadly he danced.  His eyes said “help me”.

“Perfect!” bellowed Gavin.  “See, you’re playing checkers, I’m playing 87D interdimensional  “Shoots & Ladders” with Jesus using Rugby rules.

I quivered.  He sensed my fear.  “I backed a President that will take apart so many laws, we will all be so free, we’ll be slaves.  I kissed a man at a rally supporting an Islamic shooter at a gay nightclub just to get queers to hate Islam and do my dirty work.  I’m so racist, I had mixed race kids just to throw people off the scent.”  He didn’t blink.  Cobras don’t blink.

I nodded slowly.

“I foster hate, with laughter.”  he continued  “I foster hate and disguises it as an ‘opinion’.   Where the world sees a frog meme, I see a swastika.  Where others see a glass of milk, I see white power juice.  Oh yeah, it looks like fun and games doesn’t it?  It starts with naming cereals, and ends with killing a puppy to prove your loyalty. ”

At this point Ryan was still dancing in blackface.  We were both a little embarrassed for him.  The small minority stopped and sat on Gavins knee… quick as a jack rabbit.  Gavin hand fed him a Vanilla Waffer. I understood I was staring into the eyes of the devil himself.

“So this who you are?’ I asked in a pleasing baritone.   “A madman?   A psycho fascist so racist you include minorities to shield yourself.   You want the free market to enable a dark reign of terror fostered by data that, while factual and convincing, will certainly lead to the enslavement of all but the white patriarchy?”

Gavin sipped his bourbon, “The only kink in the plan was I didn’t except the left to see right through it.  Those Anti-fa guys are geniuses.  Those college professors are too smart.  And no one is more brilliant and a than 19 year old SJW student.  They realized our weaponized facts and atom humor was the gateway to a Fascist-Nazi-Genocidal tidal wave .  Hitler was hilarious.  The only way to disprove our ideas is to never debate us.  The only way to stop our wit from relating to them was to destroy every sense of comedy inside themselves.  Pretend to not understand metaphor, hyperbole, exaggeration, or any kind of humor whatsoever.  It’s our silver bullet.  And we’re the one thing standing in the way of making communism the super groovy Ramones block party Hillary would have had take over the world.  Not on my watch.”

I don’t know if it was the blunt, but I swear I saw the framed painting of Donald Trump on the wall smile.  I was floored.    The great Satan himself leaned in, “Now I have a question for you,” he sneered “Who are the Proud Boys?”

I felt a lump in my throat, then managed to slowly say “The proud boys are western chauvinists who refuse to apologize for creating the modern world”.

“And what do we want?” he responded confidently.

“Free Market, free speech libertarianism.”

“Uh-huh.”

“To glorify the entrepreneur, venerate the housewife…”

“And…”

“…and have a Reich that will last 1000 years.”

Gavin threw his head back, “Ha ha ha ha ha ha.  See?  Just a funny joke????”

“…or is it?”

“Indeed, or was that?”  He was a master.

We both laughed .  My Fred Perry fit perfectly.  He took me to a secret room to meet “the elders”.  Ann Coulter was there, Cliven Bundy, and Pat Buchanan.  OJ Simpson… not in jail?  Roman Polanski, O’Reilly, and Simon Cowell and Donald Sterling.  Bannon, of course and, and…… literally Hitler.  Adolf Hitler still alive and staring right at me.

“Start naming cereals” Hitler said as they surround and began to punch me.

“Proud of your boy” Gavin looked on pleased, “Now let’s do what we created the proud boys to do.  Dress as yaks and blow each other.”

No turning back now.  I’m one of them.

Uhuru.

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Written by PawL BaZiLe

PawL BaZiLe

Pawl is a film director and journalist living in New Jersey. Pawl is a fan of history and avid reader with a background in theater. He has used his debate skills to win over 30 Internet arguments. Pawl Bazile directed a punk rock documentary called “Living the American Nightmare” and is currently working on a motorcycle film called “Savage”. For Proud Boy Magazine, Pawl is in charge of digital media, new programming, and talent relations. He takes his coffee black. Follow him on Twitter @PawLBAZiLe.

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