‘With the death of Adolf Hitler in the close of the 2nd World War in 1945 Western civilization, as it had existed and is still perceived died once and for all. The only thing that was left now was a gene pool’.
—James Mason
So what is left for those who now live, devoted body and soul, to our ideal of visible (and invisible) perfection on all levels? On a global scale, or even a national scale, absolutely nothing. It is too late. The ‘twenty-fifth hour’ has come and gone, too long ago.
On an individual scale, or at least on a ‘restricted’ scale, we must preserve, insofar as it is still within our power, the beauty of the world—human, animal, vegetable, inanimate; all beauty—to watch over the elite minorities obstinately and effectively, ready to defend them at all costs: all the noble minorities, whether they be the Aryans of Europe, Asia or America, conscious of the excellence of their common race, or the splendid big cats threatened with extinction, or the noble trees threatened with the atrocious uprooting by bulldozers to install on their nourishing soil invasive multitudes of two-legged mammals, less beautiful and less innocent than themselves.
It remains to watch and resist, and to help any beautiful minority attacked by the agents of chaos; to resist, even if it only delays by a few decades the disappearance of the last aristocrats, men, animals or trees. There is nothing else one can do, except, perhaps, to curse in one’s heart, day and night, today’s humanity (with very rare exceptions), and to work with all one’s efforts for its annihilation. There is nothing to do but to make oneself responsible for the end of this cycle, at least by wishing it ceaselessly, knowing that thought—and especially directed thought—is also a force, and that the invisible governs the visible.
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Editor’s note:
I would like to clarify what I said about Richard Spencer in my previous post. Unlike him, our loyalties are not with a specific country, Europe or the West in general; but with the fourteen words. And if male westerners betray their ethnic group, our loyalties won’t ever be with them.
It’s tricky, because we are genetically programmed to defend the beauty of the nymphs on the sidebar, and we also need some males to impregnate them. How to overcome this apparent contradiction, when we are living amid the worst generation of whites since prehistoric times? Answer: the last step of the Mauritius scale tells us not to worry about male traitors.
In the case of the nymphs it’s different, in that we will need lots of them to fulfil the sacred words. If they are young, they’ll have a place in the ethnostate for that reason alone. (Of course: each girl will have to have at least ten or so children to repopulate the decimated planet after the coming apocalypse.)
In the case of men, a good marker of the West’s darkest hour is to ask ourselves who we admire. In today’s world, I admire no one but, from yesterday’s world, I admire quite a few Aryan men.
It’s different with women because we shouldn’t look at their character, only at their physique. I’m not the least bit interested in what they think because, after the Day of the Rope, they will gladly submit to the blond beast. So, unlike Spencer, those of us who belong to Savitri’s religion fully identify with her statement that today’s humanity (with very rare exceptions) deserves annihilation.
Spencer is ultimately a normie; Savitri, a true initiate.