Drying the books that got wet gave me the opportunity to reread some pages of those I had read long ago. In the series “Sixteen Years Later” I talked about the texts in a binder I read when, starting in August 2009, I discovered a healthy white nationalism that hadn’t yet suffered the regression of today. Now I would like to discuss one of the books I read before my racial awakening.
As an anecdote, the books that were most damaged were the science-fiction paperbacks I bought in the 1980s and 90s. Since the task of drying them is enormous, and it is difficult for me because the sun rarely shines during this rainy season, and above all, I must prevent the proliferation of mould on the pages that had become soaked, I decided to tear out the wet pages that didn’t have my footnotes. It is not difficult to acquire other copies of the books I have mutilated. What is irreplaceable are my footnotes. So, in my paperback copy of Isaac Asimov’s Foundation, which I read in 1994, I tore out almost all the pages to save myself the painful task of drying them.
Ever since I read it, Asimov’s science fiction has bothered me greatly. In another of my Asimov books, a non-fiction one, this Jew confesses that he loved living in New York. The room where this monk of letters wrote didn’t even have a window!
The difference between Aryans and Jews is that Aryans, being much more physically beautiful (see what I said about Éowyn in my post yesterday), have a religious calling to beauty that Jews lack (unless they have mixed genetically with Aryans, like Felix Mendelssohn). If we compare Asimov’s most renowned science-fiction work, Foundation, with Arthur Clarke’s The Songs of Distant Earth, the latter’s futurism even reminded me of Parrish’s paintings. The Jew lacks that call to beauty, at least to the religious level that I feel (cf. David Lane’s 14 words referring to the Aryan woman).
What bothered me about the first book in the Foundation series I read is that Asimov simply transfers his beloved New York to the capital of the empire, Trantor, with 40 billion humans: the centre of all intrigue and symbol of imperial corruption. Every day, fleets of tens of thousands of ships brought the produce of twenty agricultural worlds to the tables of Trantor. It’s a shame that Aryans like George Lucas have imitated Trantor with the city of Coruscant. Like Trantor, Coruscant is a kind of super-developed New York that encompasses the entire planet (in Lucas’ universe, Coruscant is also the seat of government). All of this is degeneration, obviously, and you have to read about what Thalassa was like in The Songs of Distant Earth to understand it.
In Foundation 25 million planets were inhabited in the Galaxy but the people that the novelist imagined were, from my POV, as Neanderthaloid as humans today. We can already imagine the sidereal level of unnecessary suffering that would exist in such a galactic nightmare!
But Asimov doesn’t see any of this. The city he imagines, covering the entire planet, lives under metal. People no longer saw the sky or the heavens. Not even the inhabitants knew what season it was outside the metal skin of the world—except for the emperor’s palace, nestled in natural land, full of green trees and adorned with flowers: a small island in an ocean of steel.
I have said it before, and it is worth repeating: the stars are not for man. Hitler himself believed that overmanhood could only arise on Earth. Even some YouTubers who speculate on cosmology are beginning to realise this; for example, what this guy says at the end of his video (yesterday I listened to that video in full, although without seeing the offensive images).
Even that vlogger fails because he succumbs to the YouTubers’ trend of saturating his videos with images of extra-terrestrial and space recreations and the like. Being faithful to Earth means attachment to earthly beings and landscapes; for example, the canvases of Romantic painters (Hitler tried, unsuccessfully, to be one of them). And knowing oneself. Only then can one know the universe and the Gods.
A scene like the one I embedded yesterday about Edoras tells me more than any of the hundreds of books Asimov wrote.
11 replies on “Bad sci-fi”
Off topic, my brief exchange with Benjamin yesterday and today is important. The fact that, on the subject of the ideological regression of racialists, they leave me talking alone with Ben means that visitors shy away from discussing the issue with us.
Hi Cesar,
I wanted to say how much I appreciate your work. You are absolutely correct about pro white groups in the United States. I have traveled and met with many of them. Christ brain has infected them. The ideological regression in my opinion is largely due to cowardice. This blog keeps me sane knowing it is not just me who has had enough of the rot known as Christianity. Too many pro whites are afraid of speaking out against it. Perhaps I’ll start commenting more frequently here.
Hi Tom,
Welcome to this forum!
Glad to be here! I’ve been quietly reading this blog for the past year. It’s the best there is! Cesar has more courage than anyone I’ve seen out there in the pro-white sphere. So many Christ brain degenerates and please don’t call me a racist cowards out there.
Space sci-fi started with literature in the early 20th century.
Then that communist kike Asimov started inventing all these futuristic dreams of robots and majestic starships navigating the stars. It’s all completely unfeasible and impossible – fantastical thinking – influenced by ideas from an age of unbridled growth and expansion: the 20th century.
I used to like all kinds of space movies, even though I always had severe thalassophobia; the mere thought of diving deep into a pitch-black ocean of bottomless cold water fills me with absolute dread.
And space travelling is no different.
Once you learn the scientific truths about space, you need to reject all those fancy sci-fi (or rather, magical) movies and realize that the idea of space travel made easy and fun is not only deceptive, but is in itself terrifying. Who knows what’s out there in the infinite darkness?
Our home is here, and we must deal with the human horrors within that are destroying Beauty.
I am glad to read Mauricio’s comments.
What Asimov offered was not much different from what jews usually do, distraction. Fill people’s brains with pointless things so they can’t pay attention to what is actually happening in the real world.
Exactly. It’s no coincidence that, e.g., the UFO craze started right after the Hellstorm Holocaust: a distraction from what was actually happening.
I second your thoughts on this matter. A couple of years ago, I was obsessed with the concept of interstellar travel, from an optimistic (perhaps escapist) far-futurist perspective, but rooted in some scientific approach nonetheless, and had been reading a slew of books (probably fair to say way above my normal level of comprehension) on the topic. Books such as Lorentzian Wormholes by Matt Visser, Making Starships and Stargates by James F. Woodward, and, in the most detail, Wormholes, Warp Drives and Energy Conditions by Francisco S. N. Lobo. To save having to insert the maths, which I’m not even sure if I could map adequately, I came to the conclusion that such tech was really a fully theoretical venture, plausible, but really not possible. There was too many contradictions in the energy conditions necessary to construct wormholes, and too many cosmic effects that would violate them. They also in places required alternative theories of gravity (altogether, not just an augmented GR). It was just wishful thinking on my part, along the lines of wondering about Titius-Bode law many body problems in conjunction with reading Subrahmanyan Chandraskehar’s work on An Introduction to the Study of Stellar Structure, almost like a means of reconfiguring the placement of objects and bodies within the solar system for human ends. I’ll save you my notes on that; that’s not the point.
I think my worries came out of warding off antinatalist concerns, given that, though by Penrose the universe my well be cyclical, we seem somehow doomed on our ‘island’ to a solar death, irrespective of great changes and progressions in the interim. I pushed this from my mind though… it’s like worrying about the inevitability of death (as if you were there) just because you’re born as opposed to making the most of the period in between. Also, I think we can devote time to understanding ourselves – and our personal selves – and Nature, and appreciating it with a panentheist spirituality (which in my case borders on a non-Christian cosmic deism, but certainly isn’t personal). That compensates, to me.
Perhaps both these points don’t really face the problem posed to us – our immediate survival, our internal Jihad, and the exterminationist mission, for the sake of Beauty, and for the extinguishing of all undue suffering. I suppose I could draw from my previous email’s point on secession. Even were interstellar dreams possible, until a firmer cultural/racial (biological) cohesion is established here, all we would be doing is seeding those ‘Murka II’ equivalents across a far wider field. It’s a horrible thought, more horrible than an undefined – unimaginable – extinction far beyond human lifetime’s comprehension to fully grasp. It’s like to say as an optimist that the stars would be for a much later pure man, and only if they thought it best, but certainly not for us in any foreseeable future.
Curiously, just as an aside Mauricio, I too suffer from severe thalassophobia. I noticed it the most when I first started to scuba-dive as a teenager, just at the rippling waves of the ocean’s surface, knowing so much went down, and down below me, into the unknown abyss (and full of things evolved to kill you). I agree with you… as with space, there’s an tangible feeling with diving, no matter the equipment or the purpose, and as if imparted by Nature itself, that one shouldn’t really be there…
It reminds me of a Ray Bradbury novel where humans sell hot dogs on Mars, the novelist implying that they’ve prostituted a virgin planet… Even in the “next generation” of Star Trek, we see that these Americans, traitors to their own ethnicity, export Murka II into space. I find that sci-fi so nauseating that it exasperates me immensely every time I find out someone likes that TV series…
Ridley Scott portrayed the eerie desolation of space in the first hour of 1979’s Alien (before they entered the alien ship). But the only one who portrayed space perfectly was Stanley Kubrick: the Blue Danube represents the beautiful dance of ships orbiting the Earth (we haven’t yet left this blue and white pearl, our home!). The expedition to Jupiter in the Discovery, on the other hand, is elegiac because it involves months of travel through the dark, the elegy perfectly captured by Khachaturian’s adage: we are still in the Solar System. But Dave Bowman’s interstellar incursion through the wormhole is so terrifying that Kubrick used music that evokes dread: György Ligeti’s Requiem (at the end, we see Bowman trembling with fear, still in his astronaut suit, and prematurely aged).
Don’t mess with the infinite black ocean of Space—the stars are not for men (i.e., Neanderthals)!
Is there an exception? Perhaps, if they become, for millions of years, all Nazis who are kind to animals and children without a single Neanderthal around. Then, just before the sun explodes, it would be possible to send them to another star, as Clarke describes in his favourite novel, The Songs of Distant Earth, precisely because the sun was about to go nova.
But for that, these highly spiritually perfected humans would have had to spend millions of years getting to know themselves. (Today, by the way, I’ll resume translating my autobiographical trilogy.)
That’s great new to hear (about you resuming translation)! Congratulations! I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time. I shall certainly purchase a copy. I enjoyed reading it through an online translator, but it’s not the same as having a print copy to delve into in full detail, and reflect properly on. A real record for posterity, and a talented piece of moving work.
As you know, I recently finished formatting my own Third Edition of my (far more humble and unambitious in comparison) autobiography, Consumption, full of spelling, language, and paragraphing corrections, and a few new segments. I’ll send you an example of one of the new segments by email. I’m just waiting for Lulu to correct a ‘purchase a proof copy’ bug on their website, and I’ll have it up for sale on Amazon. For the moment the Second Edition is available there. The Third Edition is, so far, only available off Lulu directly. I’ve got the links up on my little website:
https://bfts2025.wixsite.com/website
Getting back to the topic of this thread, as a kid, I dreamed of escaping Earth, like Charlton Heston’s Taylor in Planet of the Apes, which I watched on the big screen with my dad when I was ten. It wasn’t until the end that Taylor realised he’d never actually been to another planet (“I am home…”).
Those who still consume bad sci-fi fantasies don’t realise it yet.