Pravles Redneckoff 🇷🇺 Z

Friday, August 2nd, 2019, 15:15

Karl-Gunsam-Gasse 1, 11th district of Vienna

"Pardon?" Riml-Löhr says.

"Do you know those restaurants where you pay a fixed price and can eat as much as you want?" Superstrizzi says. "We do something similar. For a fixed price, a customer can copulate with as many prostitutes as he wants."

"Told you he is a marketing genius," Marik says.

Marik is laughing again. He is either thoroughly drunk, or has other reasons for being happier than Riml-Löhr remembers.

"Of course, we assume wear and tear at these flat rate locations will be higher than usual. Therefore we want to keep the better girls for clubs like this," Superstrizzi says. "The problem is – how do we differentiate between the better and the worse ones? That's what selection is for."

"If you need help in this matter, the counter-intelligence of the Republic of Austria is at your service," Riml-Löhr says.

He salutes to Superstrizzi. All three laugh.

"Pay attention he doesn't inflict too much 'wear and tear' on your ladies," Marik says. "He's a stud."

A waiter comes to Superstrizzi and says something into his ear.

"Gentlemen, please excuse me," Superstrizzi says. "I need to check the girls."

Superstrizzi goes into the nearby building. Riml-Löhr and Marik are looking at the women in the pool. After a while Marik yawns.

"Let's see what's on TV," Marik says.

He turns on the TV set. There is a news broadcast. It shows a man in his late seventies, with a mane of gray hair combed back, and a high forehead that people often associate with intelligence. The man is roaring to the crowd like a lion. Hitler would be jealous of his passion.

"We shall sodomize your sons, emblems of your feeble masculinity, of your shallow dreams and vulgar lies," the man in the television shouts to the cheering crowd.

"Who is this idiot?" Marik says.

"He is not an idiot. It's Frank Fox, a professor of Marxism here at the university," Riml-Löhr says. "He is campaigning to become the chancellor of Austria."

"We shall seduce them in your schools, in your dormitories, in your gymnasiums, in your locker rooms, in your sports arenas, in your seminaries, in your youth groups, in your movie theater bathrooms, in your army bunkhouses, in your truck stops, in your all male clubs, in your houses of Congress," Frank Fox says. "Wherever men are with men together."

"I must admit – he knows how to talk," Marik says. "Probably got some good training."

Riml-Löhr nods.

"Your sons shall become our minions and do our bidding. They will be recast in our image. They will come to crave and adore us," Frank Fox says. "The family unit–spawning ground of lies, betrayals, mediocrity, hypocrisy and violence–-will be abolished. The family unit, which only dampens imagination and curbs free will, must be eliminated. Perfect boys will be conceived and grown in the genetic laboratory. They will be bonded together in communal setting, under the control and instruction of homosexual savants."

Marik turns the volume down.

"People like this destroy our society," Marik says. "They want to destroy the family, they want kids to become genderless perverts… all those immigrants who cannot or don't want to assimilate. We need to do something about it, don't you think?"

His joviality is gone.

"The elites decided to build a Socialist paradise," Riml-Löhr says. "What can we do?"

"We are the elites as well, in a sense," Marik says.

He points at himself and Riml-Löhr.

"I am not a match for Frank Fox or people who back him," Riml-Löhr says. "At this point, I want to make money, live a happy life and what comes after me… well, other people shall take care of it."

"I think you are selling yourself short." Marik says. "You got a Ph.D.!"

"It's not computer science that counts in these sorts of affairs," Riml-Löhr says. "I mean, I agree that all those Eurocommies and Ecosodomites are leading us down the primrose path."

"So?" Marik says.

"So what?" Riml-Löhr says. "I cannot do anything about it."

"But you can try," Marik says. "Do you know Thilo Sarazzin?"

"Of course I do," Riml-Löhr says.

"Why isn't that a way forward?" Marik says. "Slowly change the minds of the populace?"

"He was kicked out from his cozy job at the German Central Bank! He probably lost all his perks," Riml-Löhr says. "I don't want that, no sirree!"

Marik pours champagne into his glass. Riml-Löhr points at Marik's glass.

"You don't get free Moёt & Chandon by criticizing the system," Riml-Löhr says. "You also don't get free access to high-end escort girls. If you want to benefit from the system, you need to play by the rules. Trying to change the system head-on, like Sarazzin did, violates them."

"It's Superstrizzi who pays for this," Marik says. "He is not the system."

"Superstrizzi is part and parcel of the system," Riml-Löhr says. "He isn't technically a government official, true. But there is always the sword of Damocles hanging over his head. Why do you think am I here?"

"Why?" Marik says.

"To make sure the concerned citizens don't cause him too much trouble," Riml-Löhr says. "You can't imagine how many people protested against his flat rate brothel. Parents, feminists, police, you name it…"

"And you do what, exactly?" Marik says.

"I make sure the democratic process is running as smoothly as Superstrizzi's business," Riml-Löhr says. "Because the government needs him and other, much more powerful criminals to make the whole thing work."

Riml-Löhr sips champagne from his glass.

"Cooperation with the criminals gives the government plausible deniability," Riml-Löhr says. "Whenever there is dirty work to be done, Superstrizzi or someone like him will do it. In a way, organized crime is to civilian bureaucracy what private military companies are to the military one."

"An interesting thought–" Marik says.

"So let's not fool ourselves: Superstrizzi can run his brothels, flat rate or not, only as long as the government allows it," Riml-Löhr says. "In reality, the government is the mother of all pimps, at least here in Austria."

"Maybe you are right," Marik says.

"Yeah, we hold each other by the balls. If Superstrizzi doesn't play ball, he loses his business because of the protests," Riml-Löhr says. "If I don't play ball, the system loses control over most active parts of the population, that is organized criminals. Superstrizzi needs me, I need him, and the system needs both of us to do our our work and not rock the boat."

"But you agree we need to do something about woke politics?" Marik says. "About people like Frank Fox?"

"Sure," Riml-Löhr says. "If we don't stop them, there won't be a civilized life in Europe in a couple of decades."

"We too are capable of firing guns and manning the barricades of the ultimate revolution," Frank Fox screams on TV. "Tremble, hetero swine, when we appear before you without our masks!"

"Turn it off, please!" Riml-Löhr says to Marik. "I want to enjoy my weekend without that garbage."

Marik turns off the TV and lies down on the lounge chair.

"What if I told you there is a way to change the course of history and being rewarded for that?" Marik says.

"I'm all ears," Riml-Löhr says.

"After 9/11, the Americans created the Department of Homeland Security to fight terrorism. Now it has 240,000 employees and a budget of over 50 billion dollars per year. Whoever was involved in the creation of this institution got rewarded by the system, to use your language," Marik says. "But how did this success story begin?"

Riml-Löhr shakes his head.

"Enlighten me," He says.

"Someone did an attack on the Twin Towers on the morning of September 11th, 2001. 2,000 people died. But everybody knows that at noon, there are 10,000 people in the same building. Had the terrorists done their attack a couple of hours later, they would have killed five times as many people as they did," Marik says. "Ever wonder why those terrorists acted so humanely?"

"I know what you mean," Riml-Löhr says.

Marik nods.

"I know, too," Marik says. "There was also the incident at the Pentagon. No debris of the aircraft there, no traces of fire, the lawn as lush as this one."

Marik points to the lawn around the pool. All of the women in and around the pool are now completely naked. Riml-Löhr notices half a dozen of new women enter the area around the pool. They start to shower. It takes him an effort to move his eyes away from them and towards Marik.

"What does that have to do with saving Europe from militant homosexuals?" Riml-Löhr says.

"There are skyscrapers in Europe, too. Maybe not as big as in America, but still," Marik says. "We also have artillery and airplanes."

Riml-Löhr stands up in his lounge chair.

"You don't mean–" He says.

"Just imagine. You and I do something similar to 9/11 here in Europe. Taking into account our local subtleties, of course. We need to make it look as if some Muslims did it. The society will demand an immediate ban on immigration–one problem solved. And maybe they will think less about homosexuals and more about conservative values. You know, an event like 9/11 will show the entire European society how fragile civilized life here is. And it will show them that this civilized life needs to be protected. Such event could swing Europe to the Conservative side," Marik says. "In the face of the Muslim threat, most people will forget that woke garbage, don't you think?"

"But wait, there is more. If the European bureaucracy reacts to our own little 9/11 like the American one, a bunch of new government agencies will be created. Like the Department of Homeland Security. And people who helped uncover that terrorist attack would get money, fame, and lots of employees," Marik says. "Isn't this a perfect plan? Doing the right thing for society and being rewarded for it?"

"You don't really propose to…" Riml-Löhr says.

He mimes an an explosion with his hands. They see Superstrizzi approach them.

"Hush," Marik says to Riml-Löhr. "State secret!"

"Sorry, gents," Superstrizzi says. "A new batch of girls came in–"

"…and you had to accept the delivery," Marik says. "Do you get a discount, if you buy them in bulk?"

Marik and Superstrizzi laugh. Riml-Löhr doesn't, not even smiling.

"How about onboarding some of our new hires?" Superstrizzi says to Riml-Löhr.

He points at the women in the pool.

"Can I take two?" Riml-Löhr says.

"Take three, if you want," Superstrizzi says. "I value our cooperation."

"I'm in. Need to unwind," Riml-Löhr says. "All that alcohol, all those woketards."

He indicates the black TV screen.

"Take your girls, then go down the corridor to the last door," Superstrizzi says. "That's the Kaiser Franz-Joseph Suite, our best."

"Good luck." Marik says to Riml-Löhr and raises his glass.