I was attacked by ANTIFA in San Francisco
MY NIGHTMARE IN NANCY PELOSI’S SH*THOLE
Hello America. I’m Lady Maga USA. I was attacked by Antifa domestic terrorists in San Francisco.
This is my story.
Before I take you on a journey of insanity and turmoil into a dangerous third-world setting (San Francisco), a few words of introduction:
I’m an alpha male at heart.
I’m a flamboyant Drag Queen.
I’m not transgender.
I denounce the radical “LGBT” agenda, which has become embarrassing and predatory.
I’m using my creative talents to fight for America, specifically the re-election of our great President, Donald Trump. I’m dedicating my time, energy, money and heart to the glorious cause of America First. Yes, I’m a Drag Queen for Trump. But more on that another time.
Grab your hand sanitizer, face masks, heavy boots, Indiana Jones hat, and maybe a gun. We’re going deep into the treacherous and disease-ridden jungles of modern-day San Francisco. Perhaps it’s more accurate to just to call it a shit hole (we love you President Trump).
Maybe San Franshitshow? Ya that works.
So anyway, I traveled from Utah to San Franshitshow to volunteer at an event with Scott Presler—a Republican Gay man who’s leading a phenomenal movement called #ThePersistence. He gathers volunteers around the country to clean up America’s messes—literally—and they’ve picked up multiple tons of trash in cities like Baltimore and Los Angeles. I wanted to join his movement.
I was ready for a rather happy-go-lucky volunteer experience. Online, I’d seen hundreds of photos of people beaming with joy as they worked together with Scott.
But upon arrival in California, I realized that things would not be all rainbows and flowers when I overheard a conversation in the B.A.R.T. (San Franshitshow’s metro system). A soy-boy-anorexic-looking man and his pierced-all-black-clothes female friend were having a chat. At least I think she was female. But she probably identifies as male and he probably thinks he can menstruate (to be fair, the word does contain the word “men”). Gosh it gets confusing when you see these types, doesn’t it?
I heard soy boy say, “It’s so funny. I get more texts from Bernie Sanders campaign than I do from my girlfriend.”
I wasn’t in suburban Utah anymore.
I arrived at my budget hotel near the Castro District on a filthy street with the thick stench of marijuana making me nauseous. A man who looked like Osama Bin Laden checked me in without a smile (#thirdworldinvasion). I went up to my dirty room and fell asleep under a thin, cheap bed cover (those gross polyester slippery kind). I noticed there was no air conditioning. I read online that the Castro District was nice. This was not nice.
The next morning I awoke with patriotic enthusiasm. I think the bed bugs were Conservative and wanted me out of bed early. I was ready for Scott’s clean-up.
I took an Uber to the San Franshitshow library and saw Scott Presler and John Dennis (Pelosi’s Republican challenger) surrounded by a peppy crowd across the street. Scott gave a moving speech, proudly declaring, “We are a movement based on love!” We divided into groups and headed out to clean up.
My diverse group was fascinating. We had Mexican immigrants, Gay people, volunteers from Brandon Straka’s #WalkAway campaign, and an Asian man with his mother who spoke no English. [But please always remember that ALL TRUMP SUPPORTERS ARE WHITE SUPREMACISTS AND NAZIS].
Frolicking gaily in the beautiful California sunshine, adorned in our colorful and festive Trump gear, we headed out to clean up.
It was a Zip-a-dee-doo-dah kind of day.
We entered the nearby rough areas. To my surprise there seemed to be a camping festival of some sort (wink wink). Tents everywhere. Strange area to choose for a campout, I thought. But hey, it was a beautiful day. I was sad that I didn’t bring along my pup-tent.
(I confess to being a snarky, sarcastic beotch sometimes. But it was more fun than describing the third-world misery in those tent cities. You know what I saw.)
We started picking up trash— plastic bags, cans, bottles and…oh!…needle syringes galore.
Nanci Pelosi and the Democrats have generously made sure that Californians have access to free syringes. You know, to help them have fun at their campouts! As an Eagle Scout, I fully support people enjoying their outdoor adventures.
Kumbaya my Lord… Kumbayyyaaa…
We saw piles of needles everywhere but we didn’t see many plastic straws because they’re banned. Actually, I think I saw a lady (could have been a man) sipping a Diet Coke from a plastic straw. HOW. DARE. SHE! #climatechange
We continued the clean up, enjoying chit chat and new friendships.
And then (drumroll) the moment came. A moment in time I’ll never forget. A moment of modern California splendor. The legend is true! There it was: Human shit on the ground.
I was blessed to see this legend over and over throughout day. Thanks Nanci Pelosi!
As I knelt down to scoop up my first pile of human excrement (what a moment!) and put it into my heavy-duty plastic trash bag, I heard a soft voice say, “Smells like Socialism” (it was the Asian man with his teensy-tiny mother who spoke no English).
He explained that he lived under Chinese Communist rule. He said that the stench, to him, literally represented the concept of Socialism. He said that his dream was to be a part of America and help Americans keep the dream alive.
I felt prompted to stand up and give him a hug. He said, “Americans are a beacon of hope to me. Love you, Brother.” His Mother beamed with pride. I hugged her, too.
That beautiful moment made all the rest of what happened worth it. So let’s get into that…get ready for the ultimate San Franshitshow.
What I haven’t mentioned so far is that we were followed from the start by a slithering group of smug and obnoxious SJWs.
They were filming us and lazily slouched around every time we stopped to pick up needles and human shit in their city. They were also giving us the bird (to be fair, a true zip-a-dee-doo-dah day must have birds). We asked them to help us with the clean-up multiple times, but they were working very, very hard already—at being woke.
They have so much bravery. So much courage. It’s a very grueling responsibility to maintain such a poignant level of disgust and pessimism. Their faces must have been so tired from those contorted and paramount expressions. Sigh. How hard they work. And to think—they were probably already exhausted from diligently smoking weed and playing video games in their parents’ basements!
Alas, in spite of these detractors, we pressed on. To be honest, it was totally a moment. I felt like the soldiers of the American revolution! You know how the armies would always be followed by a gaggle of prostitutes and scalawags in times of war? I was basically George Washington.
My arms were getting tired from carrying a giant bag of trash. My mind was tired from ignoring the SJWs. And then things took a turn for the worse. Some of the SJWs lost their cool and started screaming at us. One portly, tattooed, pierced woman with—SURPRISE!—purple hair (shaved on one side, of course)— started screaming at a Gay volunteer wearing a rainbow MAGA hat. She had multitudes of outstanding things to say, including eloquent renditions of timeless ejaculations such as “F*CK YOU” and “F*CK TRUMP!”
Watching her libtard breakdown, I wondered: Why do Leftist women insist on looking like Rosie O’Donnell? I desperately wanted to lend her one of my drag wigs and teach her how to contour.
Riveting Rosie’s hysteria was an ominous foreshadow of what was to come. Across the San Franshitshow library, a protest had begun to simmer.
Before we return to the gathering across from the library, I need to describe one very special SJW who followed me the entire time. He’s a little hard to describe without sounding…well…racist? So let’s just say he had a giant nose, a huge Adam’s apple, a strange, wiry body, really dark circles under his eyes…and looked like…like…JAFAR! You know, from Aladdin? (Not hot Jafar from the live-action movie with Will Smith. The animated one).
Let’s talk about SJW Jafar, or more importantly, his floral dress. You see, unlike the Jafar from Aladdin who was clearly an alpha male in pursuit of Jasmine’s toned midriff, this Jafar was—oh Gosh—what is the term? Non-binary or some shit? You get the idea. He was a freaking man in a dress with a man bun on top of his head.
Pause. *Cringe* Continue.
So Jafar took it upon himself to trail my every move. He took videos of me, flipped me off, and ignored my requests for help in cleaning up the legends of San Franshitshow.
I’m pretty sure why he singled me out. I wasn’t dressed in drag, but my MAGA hat very clearly said “Lady Maga” in sparkly letters across the back (I bedazzle everything).
He knew who I was.
As I’ve learned time and again, nothing pisses off a member of the LGBTQIA—BCDEFG—HIJKLMNOP+ cult than a Trump-loving Drag Queen. I’ve had three events cancelled due to Leftist mob threats and regularly receive intimidating messages, including death threats.
So this “Queer” was queerly singling me out. She/him/they/zie was pissed off.
But later on, he (she/him/they/zie) disappeared. Pay attention to that detail.
I’m gonna stick with “he” for the rest of this. Ain’t nobody got time for dat gender alphabet crap.
It was a happy moment when we got back to our starting point to pile our bags of trash and mingle with fellow volunteers. I was making new friends and looking forward to Brandon Straka’s LGBT #WalkAway forum later that night.
But the crowd of SJWs kept growing and eventually, on loud speakers, they completely disrupted our event. Screaming, chanting, pointing…you know those guys at the end of the Jungle Cruise, dancing around with spikes in their hands? That was them.
They were calling us every name in the book and claiming that we were attacking the homeless. But we stood up to them. I whipped out my Trump flag and stood on a cement block and danced along to their chants. Blaire White (the gorgeous trans-woman-for-Trump) joined me. None of us were intimidated. Scott Presler was forced to shout and defend his movement.
One hysterical protestor tipped over a shade structure and threatened John Dennis with violence. He said, “I’m going to catch you when all the cameras aren’t around and I’m going to f*ck you up!” The situation was now very heated.
While I was talking with my wonderful new Asian brother who survived Chinese Communism, someone in a mask and black clothing (the Antifa uniform) ripped off my MAGA hat. I immediately ran after him. Fortunately, he tripped and I was able to retrieve my hat. But when he stood up he punched me in the gut and quickly ran away.
I was shook. I’m embarrassed to admit that I cried from the pain (but mostly from the anger). Brandon Straka and others surrounded me, making sure I was okay. I was shouting and upset, saying things to the effect of “I’ll never stop! They can’t stop me! ” and other declarations one makes when one has just been assaulted and is scared, angry, and traumatized.
When I calmed down, I knew instinctively that my attacker was Jafar, my man-bun stalker in a dress who had disappeared.
Looking back, he probably assaulted me because he thought I had Aladdin’s lamp under my MAGA hat. Damn those bedazzles!
People called the police. Someone had video of the incident. I was indeed correct, Jafar was my attacker. It was easy to identify him. The nose will always give him away. And those dark circles. His mask couldn’t hide the upper half of his villainous face.
As we all know, most notorious villains aren’t very smart. Get this: Jafar later returned to the protest wearing his fabulous 90s-style floral dress. He thought I wouldn’t recognize him because of his mask and temporary wardrobe change. Wrong!
I immediately pointed him out to the police and they approached him. But all of the Leftist protestors surrounded him, blocking the police, forming some sort of “safe circle” to protect him from racist police brutality. Eye roll. Eventually the police broke through the drama queens and reached Jafar. I’ll explain what happened with the police at the end of the article. For now, our third-world adventure is actually just beginning…
I returned to my hotel and nursed a swollen and bruised hand that was injured in the attack. I wanted to crawl in bed and cry, but I found out that Brandon Straka’s forum was cancelled due to Leftist bullies and Brandon was holding a freedom rally in front of their venue that caved to Leftist pressure. I pulled myself together and began my three hour process of transforming myself from a bearded man to a sparkling drag queen. Ain’t nobody gonna stop Lady Maga.
(Side note. No lie: I had no hot water in my hotel the third day of my stay. When I say San Franshitshow is a third world junkyard, I mean it. We’re talking San Somalia).
I took an Uber to the rally. I was welcomed with cheers from the #WalkAway crowd, which melted my heart with honor and joy. Unfortunately, their upbeat cheers were drowned out by chanting Leftists who also came to protest. Brandon Straka handed me a megaphone and I shouted words of encouragement to the crowd.
Here’s the irony. These radical Leftist psychos were protesting GAY MEN and a DRAG QUEEN in the birthplace of Gay rights and drag. Like, what the hell?!
The insanity continued, and then another San Franshitshow legend was born: The bald screaming Leftist woman.
If you’re a Conservative with any social media, you’ve seen the video of this woman screaming at the top of her lungs right in my drag-contoured face with three-inch eyelashes. You saw me clapping back with my bedazzled gloves and red nails.
This poor woman. Such demonic delirium! Her screams came from the depths of hell. But can you blame her? She lives in San Franshitshow.
As she screamed at me, I was thinking three things:
- This girl could actually be pretty if she wore make up and borrowed one of my wigs.
- I don’t know what to do right now, so I’ll just aggressively “Pelosi clap” in her face.
- Not today, Satan!
I’m grateful that the world saw who these people are. Maybe that viral video reached even more people than the #WalkAway LGBT forum would have? Perhaps being cancelled was a blessing in disguise.
To quote Truvy from Steel Magnolias, “The Lord works in mysterious ways.” Amen.
Now back to Jafar.
He was not in the crowd later that night. He was undoubtedly back in his mother’s basement shaving his legs, tweeting about the injustices of private schools not allowing dread locks, and pressuring his Mother to pay for a nose job. Poor Jafar. May Allah bless him.
At the time of my assault, it was a complicated process to go forward with my police complaint. I decided not to do a citizen’s arrest, because the police told me that Jafar and his circle (Antifa) would have access to my personal information. I’m still concerned that they do. The police were carelessly holding my I.D. in front of the protestors with phone cameras.
The police didn’t seem to care that we had video proof of the incident. Weird. That should have been enough to take Jafar to jail, right? They let him go.
When I returned to Utah, I called the San Franshitshow police department with my report information. The woman on the phone told me (regretfully) nothing could be done because of their District Attorney Chesa Boudin. “Have you been following the news about him?” she asked me.
She told me that even their own police officer who had a bottle smashed over his head (fracturing his skull) received no justice because Boudin believes that violent criminals need “counseling for mental health,” not punishment. What a load of San Franshitshow legend, right? They’re not even prosecuting robberies. Walgreens and CVS employees are watching helplessly as diverse robbers take their merchandise.
It’s telling to know that Chesa Boudin’s father and mother were convicted of murder and robbery and their heists left two police officers dead. Chesea Boudin is a descendant of leftist radicals. He spent his childhood visiting his parents in prison. He’s out for revenge. The citizens of San Franshitshow are not safe. I never want to return (without a VIP army tank).
San Franshitshow is an example of what will happen if radical Democrats take control of America.
Your city is under threat.
#MAGA now more than ever.
On a personal note, my Mother was from San Francisco. She passed away a few months back. I have countless childhood memories with her in what was a magical San Francisco. The hilarious barking seals at Pier 39. The fresh, steamy aroma of seafood at Fisherman’s Wharf. The majesty of the Golden Gate Bridge. To see my Mother’s city become a third world shit hole truly breaks my heart. What’s most profoundly sad to me is that her father, my Grandfather, was a proud San Francisco police officer.
I’m glad they aren’t alive to see what happened to me.
And it’s probably good that Mom isn’t here to scold me for saying shit so much.
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Wonderful essay. I love that you have the ability to infuse humor into what must have been a disappointing and sometimes terrifying experience. In any event, you and the others with Scott must have left San Franshitshow a little less shitty–even if only for the short term.