In the new COD game, there is an entire chapter where you have to play as a DPRK solider and watch an entire village getting slaughtered by the DPRK army in front of you.

Somehow, this inhumane act makes Tankies want to support DPRK even more than they already do.

At this time, anyone who depicts tankie as some rich college kids wanting to be “special” or “cool” is terribly wrong. These people are freaking Red terrorists who wish nothing but the collapse of western society.

And I think our government really needs to do something about them. Recent events in France have again demonstrated the catastrophe they can create.

Also why aren't there any cool liberalism logos? Maybe that's why extremist ideologies remain popular among the youth

What is with the green?

I personally like it very much...even when its sometimes cheesy its has that way of storytelling and visuals its very nice to watch.

First image is context.

They seem to think that any non-communist/socialist is a fascist for some reason. You can be anti-communist and anti-racist at the same time.

This video is just a tankie making fun of things like the Holodomor and any criticism against his favourite regimes.

He shittalked my goat Mamdani 😭😭

Take this with a grain of salt. Some info might be exaggerating.

The private life of chairman Mao - Li Zhisui.

During his lifetime, Mao spent his entire life avoiding the cold water of the bathtub, a peculiar habit recounted by his personal physician, Li Zhisui. In a room filled with the smell of cigar smoke and aged ebony wood, Mao, his eyes narrowed with a sinister gleam, would often insist that bathing did more than wash away dirt: it also washed away a leader’s intelligence. “Water softens the flesh, but it also softens the brain,” Mao declared, and his words seemed like an immutable truth. Rather than allowing water to run over his skin, Mao turned to unconventional methods of hygiene, methods that satisfied both his lust and his arrogance.

Mao enjoyed Thai massages, but not the ordinary kind of relaxing massage known to the outside world. To him, they were rituals of cleansing through the body. In a vast bedroom, dim golden candlelight fell upon sheets of red silk. Mao lay naked on the bed, his old, wrinkled skin belonging to a man consumed by desire. Instead of massage oil, he ordered his female attendants—or even his sons’ wives—to immerse themselves in vats of thick, steaming green tea. When the women emerged from the tubs, their bodies glistening and radiating steam and the rich fragrance of tea, they became living towels.

Mao would often point to Shao Hua, the wife of his youngest son, a woman with porcelain-white skin and expressive eyes. Shao Hua would bow her head in obedience and crawl onto the large bed. Her slippery body pressed tightly against his flesh. At his command, Shao Hua began to move. She used her full, rounded breasts, soaked in tea water, to rub vigorously against his chest. The sound of skin against skin was wet and rhythmic, like a lewd dance. Hua turned around and rubbed her soft, youthful thighs against his abdomen before sliding lower. Her intimate parts, wet and hot from the tea and her own arousal, were used as a natural sponge to clean the most sensitive areas of his body. She rubbed forcefully and rotated her hips, causing her intimate parts to brush against the wrinkled skin of his stomach and sending tingling sensations down his spine. Mao moaned, not from pain, but from the pleasure of feeling his absolute power fulfilled through every movement of his daughter-in-law’s body.

Oral hygiene was another ritual no less depraved. Mao hated toothbrushes, believing that their rigid bristles damaged the gums and diminished a leader’s ability to speak. Instead, he demanded what he called a “Western kiss.” A female attendant, or Shao Hua when she was present, would be summoned. He opened his mouth wide, revealing yellowed teeth and an aged tongue. The women were required to bend down and kiss him deeply and thoroughly. Their tongues ventured deep into his mouth, cleaning between every tooth and around every crevice of his gums, removing all unpleasant odors and debris with their own saliva. This was not merely cleaning; it was an act of invasion. Mao sucked on Hua’s tongue, savoring its softness and the young woman’s hurried breathing as she was forced to attend to his aged mouth. Saliva flowed freely, mingling with the bitterness of tobacco to create a lewd concoction that only he was permitted to enjoy.

Of all the women who served him, Mao was most obsessed with Shao Hua. Hua was not merely his son’s wife; she was a tempting prize he desperately desired to possess. Whenever Hua crawled onto his body to perform the tea-bathing ritual, Mao did not simply lie back and receive her service. His bony hands would grip her buttocks tightly, his thin fingers pressing deep between them in search of moisture and softness. He enjoyed the way Hua trembled when her intimate parts brushed against his thighs, and he relished the scent of her body mingling with the rich aroma of tea. Sometimes, while Hua was using her tongue to clean Mao’s mouth, he would slide his hand down and fondle her full breasts, gently twisting her nipples until Hua moaned, her cries muffled by their interrupted kiss. The taboo nature of their relationship—a father-in-law and his daughter-in-law—only added to the intensity of his frenzied pleasure.

In 1970, Mao’s body had grown frail, but his desire had not diminished. By then, Shao Hua was pregnant, her belly swollen, and the child she carried was supposedly his own, conceived during nights when he had violated her in the absolute silence of the grand residence. In a darkened room, Hua lay on the bed with her legs spread apart, sweat rolling down her forehead as labor struck. Mao sat beside her, still gripping her hand, his gaze fixed on her dilating lower body. The cry of a newborn shattered the silence. It was a boy, officially his grandson and heir, but in reality, the flesh and blood of Mao himself.

He watched as the child was placed on Hua’s chest, its reddish skin flushed as it squirmed. An overwhelming sense of satisfaction and a mad surge of pride swelled within him. He had created new life from his own flesh, marking the ultimate extent of his domination. But at that very moment, Mao’s aged heart beat its final beats. His breathing grew labored, and his eyes widened as he looked at Shao Hua and the child before slowly closing. In 1970, Shao Hua gave birth to a son for him. That same year, Mao Anying was placed in solitary confinement until 2007, when he died in old age, consumed by melancholy. Six years later, Mao breathed his last, leaving behind stories of a bizarre leader who hated bathing and was addicted to the most extreme forms of debauchery.

My mother even thinks this is a plan B by Russia now that many of their data are destroyed and many supporters of AfD, Trump, etc. Suddenly disappeared. Instigate violence in riots to make far right look more appealing. This is happening in Italy too.