I know just the story I'll tell my grandkids about the lead-up to the war in which whites reclaimed their nations and eventually the world. "It was twenty something or other, and no one gave a fuck about anything. No one knew what was going on in the world, no one cared, and the people who knew and cared didn't do anything about it. Then something happened–my memory's shaky–and whites rose up and took back our countries, took back our colonies, and are, currently, just about done with reclaiming the entire world so that no one has to worry about our pathological altruism ever endangering whites ever again." "Okay, Mr. Skil; time for your medicine." "I'm talking to my grandkids; in a minute." "Sure you are, Mr. Skil. I'll come back in a bit… Poor guy thinks he has grandkids. Side effect of the chemical castration of all whites, I suppose. Ah, well. Not like there are many of them left to complain, anyway."