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Brigade (novel) Civil war

The Brigade excerpts, chapter XXIV

by Harold Covington


“One If By Land, Two If By Sea”


Covington in uniform
“Back when there were still Mexicans along that stretch of 101, he used to chop them up and go fishing using the bits and pieces as bait. No more Mexicans around, though. Once it all started up they got the message real fast. You won’t hear any Spanish outside Portland now.”

“Well, that will be a change from L.A.,” said Julia.

“I imagine so,” agreed Post. “Every mother’s son and daughter of the NVA [Northwest Volunteer Army] has a basic $50,000 DT on his or her head, that’s domestic terrorist bounty, and from there it goes up depending on how naughty the individual Volunteer has been. I think Hatfield’s up to over half a million now. Astoria has become almost a kind of liberated zone, where white people can live safely and peacefully among their own kind. The United States can’t allow that.”

Eric Sellars and Annette Ridgeway were seated together in a lecture hall on the Portland State University campus when Jackson’s call came in. Eric had his NVA special throwaway phone on vibrate, so it didn’t ring out loud and he was able to conduct a sotto voce conversation without anyone other than his immediate neighbors knowing he was on the phone, and without disturbing the desiccated professor who was droning on about the vital importance of the Native American tradition in American history…

Jackson sighed. “Okay, guys have a seat,” he said. “Tom [a code name for Eric], you will be part of the extraction team, and after the pickup your job will be getting Becky out of the area. Becky [a code name for Annette], you are going to be risking your life and your freedom tonight for our new country in the most dangerous task you have yet undertaken. You both have a right to know why this is necessary, and why it’s such a rush. We will have two vehicles, a van for the extraction and a second car for backup and interference if necessary. You and Tom will have to exit the area on foot, and make it to a third vehicle, your own, during which time you must remove your disguise and resume your own identity, with some suitable reason for being downtown in case you’re stopped and questioned. Do not be caught with Stiggsy’s false ID on you; possession of false identification is now a Class A terrorism offense and can expose you to the death penalty”…

Jackson walked around the table and grabbed Zucchino by the collar. He leaned down to the wounded man’s right ear. “You need that mouth to speak with, but you only need one ear to hear with. Now you listen to me. Our female Volunteers are the jewels in the crown of the Aryan race. We never speak disrespectfully of them, and garbage like you damned sure never does! Zack Hatfield is another jewel in our crown, one of the finest and bravest men I’ve ever known, and the Volunteers with him are our Flowers of the Forest. They are men. You are not. You are a rodent. I will not allow you to harm them by withholding information about this evil tyranny’s plots against them. You are going to tell me now, tell it all.”

“We did that, Julia,” said Hatfield with grim satisfaction. “Congress didn’t do it. Elections didn’t do it. Democracy didn’t do it. Signing petitions and marching in the streets and babbling on the internet didn’t do it. We did it, with bullets, not ballots. And everyone in this town is better off for it. Ask Ted.”

“In what way?” asked Julia suspiciously.

“The Hollywood entertainment industry, including television, is arguably the most potent weapon in the hands of ZOG,” [Zionist Occupied Government] said Morehouse. “To be blunt, it is possibly the only one that might defeat us in the end. The NVA has already demonstrated that we can survive anything Amurrica throws at us by way of police, military, or other armed force. We’re already killing these FATPO [Federal Anti-Terrorist Police Organization] thugs Hillary sent, and it’s pretty obvious they won’t be able to beat us either. But if we allow the Jews who control Hollywood and the media to shape the minds and attitudes and perceptions of the American people about us, especially young white people—well, we can’t allow that. We won’t allow it. Our primary condition is basically that Hollywood adopts a position of neutrality and balance regarding The Trouble here in the Northwest.”

“How exactly would this work?” asked Julia, fascinated in spite of the fact that she knew Morehouse wasn’t joking about the Jew head reference. “How will the industry know what will get them killed and what will slip under the wire?”

“I think they’ll know,” said Morehouse. “As I said, a large part of this hate-whitey shtick out of Hollywood has always been far more deliberate than most people realize. The Jews inadvertently stumbled upon the most perfect vehicle imaginable for expressing their ancient hatred of all non-Jewish life and all non-Talmudic values, and taking their revenge on the hated goyim by destroying everything we hold sacred and valuable, including our own children. There was indeed once much that was good in America, Ms. Lear, the Old America before the Jews got their hands on Hollywood. But get hold of it they did, and for almost a hundred years they have used it as a weapon to spit on that Old America, and the race that for thousands of years has refused to accept their self-proclaimed status as the Chosen People of God.”

Zack’s wireless phone bleeped. He opened it and listened for almost a minute, then closed it. A grim expression was on his face. “Damn,” he said softly. He looked up at Lear. “Ted, you and I need to talk. It looks like our luck has run out.”

“What do you mean?” demanded Lear.

“That was brigade,” Hatfield told them. “They’ve confirmed that we’re about to get some unwelcome tourists here in Astoria. Fattie’s [the Feds] coming, in force.”

Sheriff Ted Lear was the first to speak. “I didn’t hear anything about that!” he protested.

“I know you didn’t, Ted, or you wouldn’t have let Julia come up here,” replied Hatfield.

Morehouse spoke up. “That means that you weren’t told anything by either the Oregon State Attorney General, or by the feds or anyone else, which is bad news for you. That means that the federals consider your department to be compromised, which of course it is, from their point of view. That in turn means that the FATPO aren’t coming just for us. They’re coming for you, and most likely for your family as well, and for anyone they consider to be on your team. FATPO always enters an area with two lists in their pockets, Sheriff. One is a list of alleged Nationalist or NVA sympathizers. Sometimes those lists are accurate, sometimes they’re not. I think you can assume that you’re on that list, and maybe your mom and Julia here if the left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing, which is the case more often than not with this government. The second list is one of potential Unionist collaborators, or loyal Americans as they would say, people who can be relied on to rat out any of their neighbors with Nationalist inclinations, anybody with NVA-connected family members, so forth and so on. Above all, insofar as it is at all humanly possible, save the children.”


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Categories
Art Aryan beauty My pinacoteca

The Accolade (detail)

Der Ritterschlag

Painting of the day:

Edmund Blair Leighton
The Accolade
(detail) ~ 1901
Private collection

Categories
Brigade (novel) Civil war

The Brigade excerpts, chapter XXV

by Harold Covington


“ Comes The Dawn”


Covington in uniform
“The Battle Hymn I can see,” responded Posner. “Congressman Rollins, er, General Rollins I mean, is trying to expand his base beyond the South Side of Chicago, and that means appealing to the blue-haired country club set in both parties. Very symbolic and American and all that, and of course the fact that Roland is the descendant of slaves who were freed in the war the song was written to glorify will add a bit of poignancy. Okay, that part I get. But has anyone seriously tried to talk him out of the MacArthur impersonation with the hat and the shades and the corncob pipe? Does he really not understand that he will be making himself look damned ridiculous? Anyway, it’s been done before.”

“Like most Americans will even remember who Douglas MacArthur was,” snorted Hastings. “Most of our wonderful viewers have difficulty remembering what they had for breakfast yesterday.”

“That’s Rolly’s whole life,” said Sue with a shrug. “He’s always been out to prove that anything a white man can do, a black man can do better and Rolly Rollins can do better still. It’s gotten him re-elected for six terms in Chicago, until he resigned to take over FATPO [Federal Anti-Terrorist Police Organization]. Now he wants to add anti-racist war hero to his resumé.”

“This is not a war, Ms. Loomis,” Posner corrected her. “This is a law enforcement action against hate criminals.”

“No, those assholes have no idea we know they’re coming.” Zack made it a point to sound a lot more confident than he felt. “I was in Iraq, God damn it all, and I’ve seen what happens when anybody tries that shit! We’re guerrillas, remember? If we go head on against the Americans we’ll be wiped out and lose everything we’ve spent years building here! We’re trying to free our people and create a new country, not go to Paradise with seventy virgins, and not play Rambo! One driver per team who knows where the vehicle is parked, and he or she stays with that team and guides them back to the vehicle when we disperse, which we’ll have to do fast, because we’re going to have helicopter gunships chasing us.”

“They think this is Iraq in 2003,” said Len.

“Why should they?” asked Washburn flatly. “Until three years ago, white men never resisted before. I still don’t think they can wrap their minds around it. When the shit hits the fan, kill those media lice. All of them.” He got a brief chorus of “Roger that.”

The sea wind tousled his hair, he looked rugged and relaxed, and his voice was deep and authoritative. “I am standing here on a deserted beach somewhere on the Oregon coast, where in a few minutes General Roland Rollins, officer commanding of the Federal Anti-Terrorist Police Organization, will be landing with a large force of highly trained and motivated men and women who are determined to take a big bite out of racist terror today. In a stunning and daring move, General Rollins has taken to the high seas in a brilliant flanking movement in order to insert some major American muscle right into the heart of NVA [Northwest Volunteer Army] bandit country, a part of the United States that has seen little law and less order for the past several years. It’s a part of our country where people of color, Latino people, gay people, and anyone whose heart isn’t filled with hate have been afraid to set foot for a long time.”

While the media party waited idly for the fast approaching Ventura, Seth Goldstein was growing increasingly uncomfortable. “Hey man, I got to drain the snake,” he said to Hastings. “If I take a whizz in the surf here will you promise not to film it?”

“No promises,” laughed Hastings. “We are already working on our outtakes and bloopers reel for this shoot. Go up behind the dunes.”

On the bridge of the Higby Lieutenant JG Day told Executive Officer Lieutenant Hacker, “One of the shore party is leaving the group, sir.”

Goldstein trudged up the apparently empty beach toward the roadway, looking for a nice concealed spot to urinate where his merry colleagues wouldn’t film him and preserve it for the ages. He saw a low rise of sand and sea oats at the base of the right-hand berm that looked promising. He reached the mound, unzipped his trousers and unlimbered his circumcised schwanze, and stepped around the mound of sea oats preparatory to emptying his bladder.

One of the men slapped his hand over Seth’s mouth and the third grabbed and pinioned his arms. Goldstein tried to shriek in pain and terror. He recognized Hatfield, who leaned over him, studying Goldstein’s camel face, his acned skin and fleshy nose and frizzy hair. “A Jew,” Hatfield said. Hatfield leaned over and cupped Goldstein’s roundhead in his hands, and whispered the single word “Dresden!” in his ear before snapping his necklike a pretzel.

“Great, now we have to stand on a dead Jew with shit in his pants,” groused Charlie.

Charlie Washburn stared at this apparition through his binoculars. “What on earth? Is that Idi Amin or Douglas MacArthur?” he asked, fascinated.

Rollins strode forth energetically through the surf, which reached up to his knees as he stepped off the ramp. His FATPO escorts slogged soggily along with him on either side. The rousing chorus of The Battle Hymn of the Republic thundered overhead. “Ready!” snapped Hatfield into the radio. To the surprise of both Ekstrom and Washburn, Hatfield stepped up out of the dug out and walked several paces toward the beach, upright, totally visible.

Higher up on Sunset Beach, Zack Hatfield raised his radio to his lips and shouted into the handset the command to fire. “Freedom!”

200 million viewers around the globe saw the body of Roland Rollins torn to pieces as five .50-caliber slugs smashed into him, and sent him twirling and whirling head over heels high into the air like a popped balloon, knocking him into the sea where he floated like a sack of gaudy, dirty laundry.

Roland Rollins died at 5:45 a.m. exactly, or 0545 hours to use military time, just as the golden sunrise flooded the beach with glowing amber light. Among the 200 million viewers who saw him die were Captain Meryl Sandoval and Lieutenant Donald Hacker, who were monitoring the raw feed transmission on the bridge of the Higby. Both of them stared at the screen as Rollins whirled away into the air flapping like a scarecrow in the wind.

0548 hours: On the beach most of the media party had gone down in the first hail of NVA bullets, as per Hatfield’s orders, and were now either lying very still on the sand in sodden red puddles or crawling along blindly like squashed and bleeding beetles.

Leonard Posner, to give him fair due, died while trying to do his job. He jerked the camera back up into a standing position on its tripod, leveled it and made sure it was on, and then stepped in front of it with a microphone, his face ghastly. “This is Leonard Posner on Sunset Beach in Oregon. Just now the world was shocked and horrified to witness the death of General Roland Rollins at the hand of the fascist beasts, who are now firing at the men and women of the FATPO and the S. S. Ventura from entrenched positions along the beach here. Somehow or other we have been lured into a bloody ambush. There are bullets flying all around me, but the brave men and women of FATPO are resisting and preparing to…” The world would never know what Posner claimed the brave men and women of FATPO were about to do, because at that moment a .50-caliber BMG slug decapitated him, and his headless blood-gushing corpse slid down out of the camera’s view like a special effect from a zombie movie.

0550:30 hours: “Madre de Dios, what’s that?” screamed Meryl Sandoval on the bridge of the Higby.

Hacker for once was at a loss for a snappy retort. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But something big as hell just went up on board Ventura.”

“Captain Mulvaney, do you read?” Hacker spoke urgently into his radio. “Are you all right? What the hell happened, Derek?”

“Damned if I know,” came Mulvaney’s reply, his voice shaky and dazed. “If I didn’t know better I’d say we were torpedoed, or hit a mine. Whatever it was blew the ship’s bow into the air and we landed on our side. We’re listing to port, almost twenty degrees, God damn it!”

“What the hell happened with that gun turret of yours blowing up?” asked Zack curiously. “I don’t think that was us.”

Hacker scowled. “Our bird-brained excuse for a captain was an affirmative action quota promotion, a mami who couldn’t sail a rubber duck in a bathtub.”


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Categories
Chess Judeo-reductionism Kali Yuga

Botvinnik’s advice

Kasparov 2

After finishing the first volume, I have started to read Volume II of Garry Kasparov’s My Great Predecessors, especially the long chapter devoted to Mikhail Botvinnik, the world champion of chess from 1948 to 1963 (second from left to right on the book cover).

While reading Kasparov’s lead paragraphs to that chapter some of his sentences struck me. Botvinnik had called chess “an inexact problem,” just as the problems of the living. “To solve inexact problems,” maintained Botvinnik, “it is very important to limit the scale of the problem to avoid getting bogged down. Only then could one hope to solve it satisfactorily.” For this champion chess reflected objective reality and what a person thought, and every problem should be reduced to manageable analysis and thought.

Since in the past I was an amateur chess player, these passages immediately brought my mind to my recent discussions in this blog with those who want to reduce the incredibly complex problem of the West’s darkest hour to the Jewish Question.

This is what I thought while reading that page of Kasparov’s magnum opus: “It is true that, in practical terms, people like Alex Linder are right in that the masses would not grasp something too complex and that, in order to explain the problem to them once pro-white politics becomes possible, we should focus on the subversive tribe.”

I have no problem with that pragmatic approach. Politically, I am on the same page of Hitler, Goebbles, and Linder on this issue. The problem starts when we abandon pragmatic politics and enter into the more subtle terrains of academic discussions.

If whites survive the current crisis, even after a final solution to all non-white problems is achieved future intellectuals will surely try to ponder what exactly happened in the 20th and 21st centuries. In that futuristic scenario it is unlikely that they will navigate forever inside the strait waters of Judeo reductionism. Sooner or later they will probably expand their point of view into a bigger picture, an all-encompassing meta-perspective, perhaps like the one barely sketched in my “Witches’ brew.”

Presently even those who are not Judeo reductionists, like Brad Griffin at Occidental Dissent, acknowledge that—rephrasing Botvinnik’s language—solving the Jewish problem would reduce the West’s darkest hour to manageable proportions. But even so the question will remain open: Why the West, unlike the Muslim world, became so Judaized after Napoleon emancipated the tribe? Why every Western nation started to imitate Napoleon’s lead in the 19th century? What was the primary cause of the empowerment of Jewry in the first place, always keeping in mind that they never wielded such power in the Muslim world?

These honest, commonsensical questions won’t go away even if a final solution to the problem is historically achieved.

Categories
Brigade (novel) Civil war

The Brigade excerpts, chapter XXVI

by Harold Covington


“ The Producers”


Covington in uniform
All were Jewish, and at least half were wearing yarmulkes. The air was frigid as ice, and not just from the air conditioning that rumbled full blast from the air vents. The eyes of the Jews at the table bored into Brewer with a concentrated, pure hatred that was almost radioactive; Brewer knew full well that every man there wanted him dead, and they were all thinking of ways that might be accomplished, preferably tonight, right here in this room, and as bloodily as possible. For him there was no offer of refreshment, no schmoozing, no polite small talk, not even a water pitcher and glass on the table. Brewer walked to the far end of the table and without a word sat down, opened his briefcase, and took out the yellow legal pad and pen, which he placed before him.

“Why?” grated Arnold Blaustein, his voice like metal scraping on metal. “This town made you. We made you. All your life we have put every crumb of food on your table, bought every mai tai you ever drank in Trader Vic’s, bought every car you ever drove, paid every penny of your mortgage, and for this you have spat the blood of God’s Chosen People in our faces. Why have you done this, Barry?”

“And that’s all you see, isn’t it?” said Brewer. “Money. Material things. Life as a balance sheet drawn up with double-entry bookkeeping, profit and loss. It’s all any of you can see, isn’t it? Never mind. I have done it because it had to be done, and no one else would. Beyond that I won’t be making any speeches or harangues, and I recommend the same course to you. We have business to settle. Now can we get on with this? I assure you gentlemen that your company is just as distasteful to me as mine is to you, so the sooner we get done the sooner we can depart.”

“I agree. Get on with it,” snarled Moshe Feinstein from DreamWorks-Disney. He lit a huge cigar, his hands trembling so bad in impotent rage he could barely flick the $4,500 platinum Zippo lighter into a flame.

“There is a war going on in the Pacific Northwest,” said Brewer. “Up until now Hollywood and the entertainment industry as a whole have supported one side in that war, the United States of America and its government. That support ends tonight, and Hollywood will become neutral. Not openly, just in practice. No one expects you to make any public declarations or dramatic announcements.”

“And this neutrality that you speak of involves our doing what, exactly?” demanded Dave Danziger coldly.

“Not much, but it does entail an extensive list of things which you will not do,” said Brewer. “We’re realistic. We understand that we can’t bring back the Hayes Office and stop you from spewing forth the kind of perverted filth and mindless rubbish that you always have. You have spent the past three generations creating a market for that sewage, it’s what the brain-dead public now wants, and it sells. This also applies to such personages as wise-ass late night talk show hosts, potty-mouthed stand-up comedians, and cable news show talking heads. There will be no more snide little needling jokes, no more vilification and insulting portrayals of Northwest Volunteers as psychos and cretins and generally bad people.”

Walt Wexler from World Artists spoke up. “Uh, sorry, Barry, I’ve got to ask. Did you actually see what you and your—your friends did on Oscar night? I did, because I was there, although by the grace of God all I got was a slight wound. How in the name of God can you say that the perpetrators of that horror are not bad people? What would you call that unspeakable slaughter if not psychopathic?”

“I would call it an act of war just as much as any engagement between soldiers. In case you’ve missed the past century, Walt, that’s how wars have been fought since 1914,” said Brewer in a level voice. “Anti-white incitement and group defamation from Hollywood and the television industry, directed against Gentile people of European ancestry, will cease forthwith. This isn’t just a matter of common decency or fairness; we wouldn’t be so naïve. It’s so you can’t sneak in anti-NVA [Northwest Volunteer Army] propaganda in the guise of historical films or apparently unrelated plot lines in TV series, etcetera. There are to be no more fat Southern sheriffs beating on poor defenseless white liberals. There are to be no more evil Nazis acting as clownish foils for your infantile action heroes. There are to be no more evil Confederates flogging black women, no more Ku Klux Klansmen raping and lynching, no more stereotyped redneck villains getting beaten up by clever wisecracking niggers, no more equating a woman having blond hair with being an idiot and a slut. No more racial or cultural stereotyping of any kind directed against white people. I don’t have to spell this out for you, gentlemen. You all know damned well what you’ve been doing for the past century, and please do not insult my intelligence by trying to deny that you don’t understand me perfectly well.”

“We get it,” said Blaustein with a nod.

“Thank you. The third point may be the hardest for you to swallow, but I need to emphasize that these terms are a complete package, not a buffet. It’s all or nothing.” Brewer took a deep breath. “All Holocaust propaganda comes to a screeching halt. Now, and that includes that piece of dreck your people are over in Poland filming now, Mr. Feinstein.”

“What? Ashes of Auschwitz? You’re telling me I can’t commemorate the Shoah, where one hundred and thirty-seven of mine family vas gassed by Hitler? How dare you? Chillul Ha Shem!” shrieked Feinstein, turning purple and waving his fists in the air, spittle flying from his lips as the burning cigar fell down into his lap unheeded.

“Crap,” said Brewer succinctly. “It’s crap, it was always crap, and you’ve milked it long enough. For three generations you people have squeezed an endless river of gold out of something that never happened, at least not in any way, shape, or form resembling your official version. Now you are going to stop it, just like you’re going to stop insulting and degrading white people as a whole. Germans are white people and they are most distinctly covered in the no-defamation and no-lying clauses of our little entente here. No one expects you to admit that you’ve been defrauding the world for 75 years. Like I’ve said, we’re realistic. But you’ve already got enough of that horseshit in circulation to keep you rolling in royalties for the next 75 years. You’re going to shut down the Holocaust sector of the entertainment industry now, as much as that’s possible. No more movies, no more TV specials, no more long moans in black and white with cellos in the background, and your palms out for money and sympathy you don’t deserve. No more of that crap! My God, the FBI already arrests anyone who questions the official version anyway under the hatecrime laws, and sends them off to re-education camps to have their brains washed squeaky clean like Winston Smith in 1984. Isn’t that enough for you? We understand that the mountain of Holocaust shit already reaches to the sky, and it’s going to take generations to undo the damage you’ve done to humanity’s psyche with your lies, but you’re not going to be allowed to throw one more shovel-load of shit on the heap. Hear what I say, gentlemen, or by God, we will show you a Holocaust, and we have demonstrated that we have the capability to do just that.”


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Categories
Brigade (novel) Civil war

The Brigade excerpts, chapter XXVII

by Harold Covington


“ Two On The Bounce” (*)


Covington in uniform
It was difficult to believe that not thirty miles to the west one entered the Third Battalion’s Bandit Country, a liberated zone where not a dark skin or a federal badge was to be seen. But Portland itself remained a left-liberal stronghold, one of the few real bastions of government support remaining in the Northwest, and Portland State University was a hotbed of political correctness and anti-racist hysteria.

“Boy, that was quick. They must be after us hot and heavy to get it on the air so fast. Us First Brigade boys are really photogenic,” said Eric dryly. “First those guys on Flanders Street, then Cat leading the band on Oscar night, then Cap Hatfield and the Wild Bunch on Sunset Beach, now us. We’re giving the media all kinds of exciting footage.”

“Hopefully these new threads will disguise us until we can get picked up,” said Annette. They turned and walked on. “Well, this is it. Our old lives are gone now. Any regrets?”

“Not a one,” Eric told her.

“Me neither.”

“Annette, I want you to listen to me and not give me any feminist bullshit or backtalk,” Eric continued, quietly but firmly. “If things break bad, I will hold off whoever it is and draw them off onto me. I want you to run, run like hell, and don’t look back.”

“You did pretty good with nothing but this laptop back there in the student union,” she reminded him.

“I was lucky, and there was only one of them. We won’t have that kind of luck again. I mean it, Annette. You’re a woman, and your life is more important to the future of the race than mine, as pompous as that sounds. You can give life to those who will come after. Like you said, we’re supposed to split up anyway. If anything goes down I want you to run.”

______________

(*) “On the Bounce” — Northwest Volunteer Army slang term for being on the run from the American police and military.



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Categories
Brigade (novel) Civil war Justice / revenge

The Brigade excerpts, chapter XXVIII

by Harold Covington


“The Butcher’s Bill”


Covington in uniform
Overall, things were going badly for the Americans.

There were hundreds of communities, now all white. One could always tell when one was in such a free zone, because the flagpoles on government buildings and schools were bare, or sometimes flew only a state flag.

Those who resisted the concept of armed struggle before the war had always claimed that ZOG’s [Zionist Occupied Government] immense technological advantages prohibited guerrilla warfare in North America, but it turned out that this simply wasn’t the case.

“Probably a drop-in photo op thing, like I said,” answered Lockhart. “The Israelis are really ginning up their PR [Public Relations] machine in this country. The word seems to be that the Muslims are finally going to quit fooling around with the various American occupation garrisons in their assorted countries and they’re going to launch some kind of mass offensive aimed at Israel, no one is quite sure how, but that’s the buzz. The Jews are worried, judging from the money they’re throwing around Washington, D.C. like it was confetti, and judging from the way the damned TV preachers are calling down the spirit for Israel even more than they ever have before. This is probably part of their campaign to pressure the United States into finally nuking Mecca.”

“Jesus Christ,” muttered Gardner. “I’m not a Muslim, but even I know that will simply make any peace between us and them impossible, forever.”

“I think that’s the idea,” said Lockhart dryly. “Make damned good and sure we can never call this madness off.”

“May I suggest this might be an appropriate occasion for Operation Festival, sir?” asked Jackson quietly. “Technically I’m supposed to get the Army Council’s permission before I initiate Festival and possibly cost us more casualties than we can afford to lose,” said Coyle with a sigh. “For the next 24 hours, we are going after these sons of bitches. Blood vengeance for a fallen brother is a just and righteous act, and a moral duty to all men of honor and pride. Suicide fails our cause and our future, and it fails Cat-Eyes Lockhart and Joe Mohr and Scott Gardner. They would want us to live for the Republic, not die for it. Spill the enemy’s blood tonight, but spare your own as much as possible.”

That night all hell broke loose in Portland. About dusk, the two urban brigades of the NVA [Northwest Volunteer Army] coalesced into a little over a hundred assault teams, four to six people per team, with at least two vehicles per team.

Commandant Billy Jackson and First Brigade were assigned the mission of attacking and doing as much damage as possible in downtown and North Portland, the last remaining African ghetto of any significance remaining in the Homeland. “If it looks at all feasible, I want to see if we can clean out that whole damned black spot tonight,” Coyle told him. “We need to beautify the City of Roses by making sure there’s not a single black face on the streets. Oh, and while you’re at it, see if you can clean up Portland University. According to Tom and Becky the few decent white students live off campus, so it’s pretty much a free fire zone.”

“Can you let me have the smokers, Tom?” asked Jackson. “I think they’re just what the doctor ordered for those putrid groves of academe up there.” “That’s affirmative,” said Coyle with a nod. “Tonight we unveil all three of our secret weapons and introduce ’em to Mister Joo.”

By seven o’clock that night the television news had figured out that something was going on, and interrupted regular programming with a series of increasingly confused and hysterical reports and rumors.

FATPO [Federal Anti-Terrorist Police Organization] and police patrols moving through the winter darkness were being fired on from every corner and rooftop by snipers and RPGs [Rocket-Propelled Grenades], by small parties of Volunteers who then vanished into the night. What little liberal-lefty night life still existed in Portland was down in the Pearl District; now small groups of men and women were running through the streets throwing hand grenades and Molotov cocktails through the doors and windows of trendy yuppie fern bars and night clubs, shooting anyone with a black or brown face, dodging into alleyways and in and out of buildings when the police pursued, then turning and firing on their pursuers. By seven thirty the downtown area was rattling and crackling with gunshots, bursts of automatic weapons fire and the intermittent hollow boom of explosions, mixed with screaming and shouting as patrons of various establishments fled for cover.

The elements from First Brigade’s D and E Companies sent to assault the University of Portland found the campus in chaos, devoid of police or FATPOs, all of whom had been ordered into North Portland or elsewhere through some act of carelessness or incompetence. About 50 Volunteers split into two groups and moved into Eric and Annette’s alma mater from Park Avenue on the south side of campus and 12th Avenue on the north side. The electricity was out, but the university’s emergency generators had kicked in, so there was some light outside and in the larger buildings.

Groups of students, mostly non-whites, were milling around on the quads, in the student union and in the dorms, some with candles, many with beers. A number of persons of color and wildly bearded Jewish-looking types were up on benches or planter walls haranguing small clumps of listeners with long screeching tirades of the left-wing “Fight the Fascists!” variety; one oddball Mexican was actually shouting the famous Communist battle cry from the Spanish Civil War, “¡No pasarán!” Some of the students had gotten hold of a motley variety of pistols and long arms from somewhere, probably gang-banger hardware, and they were flourishing them and firing them in the air, jumping around like demented monkeys and screaming about fighting the Fascists.

Then all of the sudden there was the NVA in the flesh, coming at them from out of the darkness, gun muzzles flashing, cutting them down with aimed shots like shooting fish in a barrel, and the student scum turned and stampeded in terror. The Fascists passed all right, as they had done in 1938. Finally the Volunteers turned loose the first NVA secret weapon of the night, a pair of two-man crews each armed with a home-made flamethrower built from scuba diving tanks that contained a pressurized load of home-made napalm, one of the Red Baron’s creations, shot in a thin but volatile stream through a nozzle adapted from a welding torch. The “smokers” worked perfectly as they went from building to building and dorm to dorm. Inside twenty minutes the entire campus was in flames.

By ten o’clock at night North Portland was a burning madhouse. “Maybe a way to wind up Operation Festival… physically and psychologically,” said Hill.


http://northwestfront.org/

Categories
Brigade (novel) Civil war Justice / revenge Martin Luther

The Brigade excerpts, chapter XXIX

by Harold Covington


“We Won!”


Covington in uniform
“Exactly,” agreed Zack with a nod. “Kind of hard to trade stocks in a hole in the ground. But if anything, the offensive we’re carrying out right in the belly of the Beast may bring on some kind of especially horrible retaliation here in the Homeland, although I’ve no idea what they can feasibly do that they’re not already doing here. But there’s no way ZOG is going to just throw in the towel and finally give us our freedom, Len. We’re going to have to physically drive them out, every last soldier and bureaucrat and Jew, and then drive stakes through their hearts before they’ll let us go. They can’t afford to give in. Once they concede that the actual territory of the United States is divisible by race, then everybody’s going to want a piece of the pie. The Mexicans are going to demand the Southwest for this Aztlan they’ve been hablamosing about foryears, the niggers will want the South for New Africa, the Cubans and Haitians will demand Florida, the bugger boys may ask for some kind of Faggotstan somewhere, the French might start getting stroppy up in Quebec again, who knows where it will end? Every other continent is composed of multiple small nations, so why not this one? If we go then the whole empire goes, eventually. The power structure doesn’t dare give in to us, or they’re done and their power is finished, and they know it.”

Lear asked. “Are you going to turn into some kind of medieval tyrant now, and decorate the streets with the heads of everybody who’s ever offended you in the past?”

“I am going to secure this area for the Republic, Ted, and I am going to make sure the Americans never come back,” Hatfield told him.

“You were an American yourself, once,” said Lear sardonically.

“I was,” replied Zack with a nod. “I’ve found I prefer being a white man instead. To answer your question, Ted, we’ve had a lot of law in the past few generations. Too damned much law, and not enough justice. Now there’s going to be justice, and some of it may be pretty rough, but I don’t think it’s going to be anywhere near as bad as people think.

Some of the Boys from Operation Applesmash and Operation Pigkill made a stop-offin Houston. Within the space of a week the CEO [Chief Executive Officer] of Exxon turned the ignition key on his Ferrari and was blown through the roof of his garage; the chief financial officer of Gulf Oil was found hanging in his pool house by his own necktie wearing only black net stockings and high heels and lipstick; and the huge, garish main tabernacle of an Evangelical television ministry that was one of Israel’s main financial and Scriptural supporters was leveled by a truck bomb full of gelignite.

“What is that?” whispered Christina in wonder. “I know that song.”

“You remember it from long ago in church, honey,” said her father, his hand on her shoulder. “It is A Mighty Fortress, a hymn written by Martin Luther.”

Ein Festem Burg Ist Unser Gött. They are singing in German,” said Sergeant Karl Vogler, Hatfield’s driver. Tears were streaming down his face.

“So they are,” said Hill somberly. “1945 is avenged, korpsbrüder.”



http://northwestfront.org/

Categories
Blacks Israel / Palestine Mainstream media William Pierce

Jewish-controlled media – Why?

The blogger Armor linked the below article by William Pierce in the previous thread but the question remains: How on Earth could whites handed over no less than their culture-creating medium to an alien tribe?

For goodness sake!: Why? I for one blame the latest phase of Western Christian civilization for such treachery (see The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour).

Pierce said:


JEW-TOP-MANAGEMENT1

There are so many things worthy of comment today that it’s difficult to make a choice.

Certainly, one of the more significant things is the world’s reaction—or lack of reaction—to the election of Ariel Sharon to be Israel’s prime minister, as soon as he can put together a government. Do you remember the reaction of the mass media, the politicians, the leaders of the Christian churches, and all the rest of the big shots when Jörg Haider’s Freedom Party won enough parliamentary seats in the Austrian elections a little over a year ago to have a role in the Austrian government? Some countries recalled their ambassadors. Politicians around the world were shaking their fingers at Austria and announcing that they would not tolerate Haider’s participation in the Austrian government. Trade embargoes against Austria were threatened. And the reason? Haider had broken some taboos by making statements the Jews didn’t like. He had said that there had been many decent people fighting on the German side during the Second World War, including people in the SS. He had said that some of Hitler’s economic policies in the 1930s had made good sense. And he had called for a cutoff of immigration into Austria.

Now, Haider is not made of very stern stuff, and when he was criticized for his statements, he apologized and back-pedaled. But his apologies had not been enough, and the electoral success of his party resulted in a continuous barrage of sensationalistic media attacks against him and the ostracism of Austria by everyone who stepped to the music of a Jewish drummer.

So now Ariel Sharon is set to become the prime minister of Israel. Sharon is the man who, as Israel’s minister of defense in September 1982, during Israel’s invasion of Lebanon, made the arrangements for the slaughter of more than 3,000 Palestinian women and children in the Sabra and Shatila refugee camps just outside Beirut. The Palestinian fighters had evacuated the camps, leaving their women and children behind, after being assured by the U.S. government of Ronald Reagan that their families would be safe. As the Jews moved in, radio communications among Israeli military commanders were monitored in which they talked about carrying out “purging operations” in the refugee camps. Then the Jews surrounded the camps with their tanks so no one could escape and sent in the butchers. For two days they kept the camps sealed while the slaughter went on. They kept the camps illuminated with flares at night to assist the murder squads. That was Ariel Sharon’s work: more than 3,000 murdered women and children, murdered in a characteristically Jewish way after tricking the men into leaving their families unarmed and defenseless.

But the massacre of refugees in Sabra and Shatila that gave Sharon the nickname “Butcher of Beirut” wasn’t his only work. Long before 1982, when Sharon was an Israeli army general, he was notorious for the atrocities he and his troops committed. He liked nothing better than to sneak into an undefended Jordanian village at night with his soldiers and go on a throat-cutting rampage. After the reaction to his butchery in Sabra and Shatila in 1982, Sharon was obliged to resign as defense minister and leave politics for a while. But when he decided to run for prime minister last year, he prepared the way by deliberately provoking the violence and killing that have been so much in the news in recent months. At a moment when things were already extremely tense, he marched up to Jerusalem’s TempleMount with a large contingent of armed bodyguards who chased away Moslem worshippers and caused outrage among Palestinians. This outrage predictably erupted into stone throwing by Palestinian children and the shooting of Palestinian civilians by Jewish soldiers. Barak couldn’t restore order, and so Sharon beat him in last week’s election and won the chance to become prime minister in his place.

And where is the outrage among the politicians who were wagging their fingers at Jörg Haider a little over a year ago? Where are the sensational media stories about Sharon’s criminal history? Why are the church leaders who condemned Haider’s “immoral” statements now silent? Who is threatening to recall an ambassador from Israel or to cut off trade with Israel?

This is a lesson for those with eyes to see. It is a lesson not so much about Israel’s atrocious behavior but about the hypocrisy and utter dishonesty that characterize virtually all of those outside Israel who occupy positions of power and influence. And it also is a lesson about the nature of our mass media, a lesson about the motivations of the men who control the media. The conventional wisdom is that the media are liberal, that the men who determine their policies are liberals, leftists. But that isn’t so. The truth of the matter is that the media are not liberal: they are Jewish. The men who control them are not liberals: they are Jews. And that is why the media reacted the way they did to Haider’s electoral success in Austria and to Sharon’s success in Israel. Understand? If you believe that you have any other explanation for their behavior, tell me about it.

Well, I could talk all day about this subject—about the absolutely fundamental problem for the whole world that this Jewish control of the media is—but let’s talk about some other things today. There have been lots of new Black-on-White crimes that the media bosses have decided that you don’t need to hear about. An unfortunately high percentage of these crimes have been against young White women. In Little Rock, Arkansas, for example, a serial rapist has raped at least eight White women at gunpoint during the past five weeks. I say “at least eight” because eight victims so far have come forward and given matching descriptions of the Black rapist to police. I have no idea how many other women have been too afraid or too embarrassed to go to the police or simply are unable to give an adequate description. Anyway, we have a Black rapist on the loose in Little Rock who has brutally raped at gunpoint at least eight White women in the last five weeks, and it’s not news outside of Little Rock.

Three months ago, back in November of last year, I told you about the disappearance of Lucie Blackman in Tokyo. Lucie was an exceptionally attractive 21-year-old English girl—a tall, slender, blue-eyed blonde—who went to Japan as a tourist and ended up working as a “hostess” in an exclusive Japanese businessmen’s club. And then she disappeared. In November I told you that although no trace of her had yet been found, Lucie almost certainly had been drugged, raped, and murdered by a Japanese real estate tycoon, Joji Obara, with whom she had been seen leaving the club. Obara liked tall, blonde girls and already had raped a number of them and gotten away with it. Well, now Lucie has been found. That is, her head, her torso, and her hands have been found embedded in a concrete block a little over 200 yards from Obara’s waterfront luxury apartment. It’s big news in Japan, but I’ll bet you hadn’t heard about it. I mean, what a story! Tall, beautiful English girl, wealthy father, predatory Japanese rapist who is a business tycoon, girl’s dismembered body discovered in concrete block near tycoon’s apartment, and it isn’t news in America!

Listen, this is another subject I could spend all day talking about. I have detailed reports on my desk right now of half a dozen other cases of White women raped or murdered or both by Blacks here in the United States in the past few weeks, and the news has been covered up except in the immediate areas where the crimes took place. I believe that it’s worthwhile continuing to talk about these crimes even after I’ve made my point because there always are new listeners who need to be convinced.

After I reported on the mass rape and murder of Whites in Wichita, Kansas, by two Blacks a few weeks ago, I had a number of new listeners write to tell me that they hadn’t believed me when they heard my broadcast, so they had checked it out themselves and were astounded to find out that it was true. They hadn’t thought it possible that anything so horrendous could be or would be covered up. They hadn’t believed that any responsible person—the news director for any national news medium, for example—would want to cover up such a thing. I believe that every time I talk about something like the Wichita massacre I help a few more people discover just how serious a problem we’re facing.

And certainly it’s a serious problem when the people who control the national media deliberately distort the news, suppressing some news and exaggerating other news, in order to mislead public opinion. That is a serious problem. But I’m afraid that often I am guilty of not probing the nature of the problem deeply enough. I’ll give you an example. Members of my organization, the National Alliance, have been distributing some of our publications in Little Rock recently, calling attention to the rising incidence of Black crime against White people. This is a bit of a sensitive issue in Little Rock at the moment because of the series of Black-on-White rapes there I mentioned a minute ago, and while the consciousness of the White citizens of Little Rock is up a bit, we are seizing the opportunity to provide some information to them to which they otherwise might not be as receptive.

Well, the unfortunate fact of the matter is that a majority of the White citizens of Little Rock—and every other city in the United States—are not receptive to any information or idea that is Politically Incorrect, no matter how atrocious the situation. They will cling to Political Correctness like a drowning man clings to a life preserver. They will think what they are told to think and say what they are told to say by Authority. They are lemmings.

After one of our distributions in Little Rock a couple of days ago I received a letter from a lemming there. He began his letter:

Get out of Little Rock! The last thing this city needs is a bunch of ignorant, shortsighted, ill-bred bigots tainting the rest of us with hate. I was disgusted when I saw hundreds of your organization’s pamphlets littering the driveways of normal, decent people here. Et cetera.

He went on to tell me in a prissy, self-righteous way that he is a White conservative who always votes Republican. He also said, however:

Give up your dream of a White nation. It is not going to happen, and it shouldn’t. The world is a diverse place, and it is the better for it.

That, of course, is the party line of both the Democrats and the Republicans, with perhaps a barely detectable difference in emphasis. “Diversity is good. More diversity is better” is the Politically Correct party line. The lemmings believe it because they have heard it directly from their TV. Their favorite sports stars and Hollywood celebrities say the same thing. Al Gore and George Bush say that they believe it, and, by golly, so does every lemming. And the lemmings never heard either Al Gore or George Bush say a bad word about Black rapists who prey on White women. Their TV never has told them anything about Black rapists.

Undoubtedly they are against rape—at least, the respectable, Republican lemmings are. Presumably, the lemmings who have voted for Bill Clinton in the past can’t be very much against rape. But even the Republican lemmings will suddenly have very mixed feelings when the racial aspect of rape is raised. They know that it’s okay for them to be against rape. But it’s not okay to talk about or even think about Blacks raping White women. That hints of not being sufficiently enthusiastic about the wonderful diversity that has been growing like a rapidly metastasizing cancer in our society for the past 40 years or so. The Correct party line is that diversity is all good; there must be no reservations about that: nothing that questions the goodness of diversity.

I mean, just imagine where talking or even thinking about Blacks raping White women might lead. One might think back to a time where Blacks raping White women was virtually unheard of, because, for one thing, Blacks weren’t permitted to hang around White neighborhoods, and for another thing, for a Black to lay a hand on a White woman meant certain death. One might then begin thinking about how and why such a big change has come about over the past 40 years. One might begin thinking about the relationship between the increase in diversity and the increase in the incidence of Blacks raping White women. Oooh! Very Incorrect thinking!

It’s easy to see why the Republican lemming who wrote to me from Little Rock is upset. He is afraid that if I and other National Alliance members talk about the racial aspects of rape in Little Rock it will, to use his words, “taint the rest of us with hate.” Which is to say, that if National Alliance members in Little Rock make a big enough fuss about Blacks raping White women there, and people in Little Rock start thinking about it and talking about it, people in other parts of the country may suspect that the folks in Little Rock are “tainted with hate.” They will suspect that the Republican lemmings of Little Rock aren’t sufficiently enthusiastic about increasing diversity there. I believe that, unfortunately, the Republican lemming who wrote to me is more concerned about that than he is about stopping the rape of White women by Blacks.

Ten years ago I used to think that the way to straighten out the thinking of Republican lemmings was to hit them up alongside the head with a piece of two-by-four or with a sturdy, oak table leg. Then as I learned more about lemmings I realized that wasn’t really necessary. Trauma and privation certainly aren’t bad things when people need to be reoriented, but what is far more effective is simply to change their authority figures. Lemmings don’t need to have their thinking straightened out with a piece of two-by-four, because in a very important sense of the word they don’t think.

The Republican lemming who wrote to me didn’t look at the evidence, think about it, and then come to the conclusion all by himself that more diversity is better. That’s what his TV told him, and he’s just parroting it back. Lemmings no more think about what they’re saying than talking parrots do. That doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re stupid. This Little Rock Republican may be able to program his own VCR and figure out his income taxes all by himself, but when it comes to the question of Political Correctness, he does not think. It’s a conditioned reflex.

I’ve talked with you before about this lemming phenomenon, but it’s an extremely important idea, and it leads to some very important practical conclusions, so I want now to run quickly through the idea once again. First, in the struggle for racial survival in which we are now engaged perception is extremely important. It is essential for people to believe that our struggle can be won. Many people who should be working with me or actively supporting me look at all of the people parroting back what they hear on TV, and they compare that 96 or 97 or 98 per cent of the White population with the very small number of people who are willing to speak out against Sumner Redstone’s plan for a more diverse America, and they are discouraged. They conclude that it’s hopeless, that the odds against us are too great, that the forces of lemminghood are too strong. And so they give up. They won’t fight back.

But you know, that’s the wrong way to look at the struggle. It’s not us versus the lemmings. It’s us versus the people who tell the lemmings what to think. And that’s a very important distinction. I’m reminded of something I saw as a small boy. It’s the scene in The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy and her friends discover that the seemingly all-powerful wizard is not so powerful after all without his illusions and special effects. The Jews are primarily illusionists. They work behind their television screen to create the illusion that everyone agrees with their poisonous ideas and is happy with the way Jews are pushing things: the illusion, for example, that every “normal, decent” person is happy with the trend toward more and more “diversity.” But pull the plug on their television, so that the illusions no longer appear on their screen, and one finds them not so formidable a force after all. And the lemmings, without being told what to think, can only mill around in confusion.

Which is not to say that the lemmings in their mindless millions are not dangerous and can be ignored. The point is that we don’t have to convert the lemmings. We don’t have to persuade them. We just need to whip the illusion-masters. Then the lemmings can be turned 180 degrees in a matter of weeks. The same lemmings who now call for more diversity—and really believe what they are saying—will be calling for racial cleansing and a homogeneous White America—and really will believe what they will say, when the mass media have been taken away from the Jews and returned to the control of our own people.

And that is why I emphasize over and over on these broadcasts the importance of being able to communicate with our people, the importance of breaking the Jewish monopoly control on the dissemination of information and ideas and images and illusions. The key to the survival of our people—the key to returning our people to moral and spiritual and racial health, the key to salvaging what is left of our civilization and our culture and restoring them to health and progress—is, first, to be able to compete effectively with the Jews in communicating with the non-lemming two or three or four per cent of the population able to think for themselves; and then to smash the Jews’ grip on the media with which they control the thinking of the lemmings.

That certainly is not an easy task—but it’s a much more feasible task than trying to make the lemmings think for themselves, and it is more feasible than trying to convert the lemmings while the Jews are still in control of their machinery of illusion. So what we do now is continue to build our own media—continue to gain more listeners every week to these broadcasts; continue to build our ability to disseminate leaflets wherever they may reach anyone with an open mind; continue to make books and other printed material and audio material and video material available to people seeking the truth—and to do this faster than the Jews can move forward with their efforts to ban the First and Second Amendments, thereby outlawing their competition and assuring the perpetuation of their monopoly control of the minds of the lemmings.

We’ll talk more about this in later broadcasts, because it is by far the most important task for the survival of our people.

________________________

Originally a broadcast, “Sharon, Rape, and the Wizard of Oz” was eventually published in Free Speech – February 2001 – Volume VII, Number 2.

Categories
Axiology Conservatism Constantine Constantinople Eschatology Hermann (Arminius) Jesus Swastika Tom Sunic William Pierce

After AD: Before and after the Führer

In the thread on Judeo reductionism, Roger commented today:

Think of the fall of Byzantium. This may have been seen as a great calamity for Europe but on reflection, this helped concentrate power in western Europe and reinvigorated it. Likewise, the utter destruction of America may be the best thing for the White Man… but obviously anyone within those territories will have differing views.

Great point on the need of the fall of Constantinople (which, incidentally, was already too mongrelized ethnically by the time when Mehmed’s cannons made a huge hole on its walls).

I have observed, in the three and a half years that I have been active over white nationalist boards, that quite a few nationalists are infinitely more immature than the leaders of the National Socialist regime insofar as religion is concerned. Even long before the Nazis America was larger and more prosperous economically but more primitive spiritually (just compare German to American music). Genuine spirituality cannot be measured through the American way. Believing in traditional religion or new age nonsense is not enlightening but psychological dissociation.

If homo Americanus is indeed homo Judaicus as Tomislav Sunić maintains, the only way that Americans and Canadians change their so-called spiritual ways is that Murka burns after the dollar crashes and all of their worldwide hegemony be lost. In this New World Order scenario the German people will have a last chance to reclaim their (presently) murdered self-esteem, as a blogger of Germanic origin stated in the post that I have linked the most, “The Red Giant.”

After what the Anglo-Saxons did in the 1940s the only way that these people could possibly atone for their sins is to get rid of the Anno Domini calendar, the one that betokens the birth of “Jesus”—a Latinized, post-Exilic modification of the Hebrew Yĕhōšuă, (Joshua)—as a model for Aryans. In fact, they must get rid of the Jewish god altogether and, instead, base history on the death of Hitler—not on the day when he was born—: a genuine human, all too human model for the white peoples. Only thus will the crime that the Allied forces perpetrated in the century when we were born be remembered for posterity. Books like Hellstorm must be expanded a thousandfold by future scholars in landmark works, just as the Gulag Archipelago functioned like a stake through the hearts of deranged French leftists when I was much younger.

I know that on this issue I am alone among the white nationalists of this continent, which are still stuck in Judeo-Christian values. Today, for example, I received an e-mail that Greg Johnson delivered to all subscribers of Counter-Currents’ newsletter that mentioned Matt Parrott. Although Greg is supposedly an anti-Christian and Matt an Orthodox Christian, axiologically these two Americans are almost exactly on the same page. Greg for one claims to be a fascist in his webzine but he de facto functions like a conservative, as I have pointed out in what is perhaps the most emblematic post of WDH. After the death of William Luther Pierce no American nationalist that I know has transvaluated Christian values back to Aryan values, at least not in such a direct and unabashed way as Pierce did.

My philosophy results from my brutal honesty: Don’t take seriously this politically-correct, new generation of American white nationalists. They don’t feel the same hatred towards the New Constantinople that Pierce felt. As long as, unlike him, they don’t bring Nietzschean axiology to its ultimate consequences, they will continue to function as reactionary conservatives instead of genuine revolutionaries.

Pace the American New rightists, the New Constantinople will fall soon. The commenter Deutscher recently linked at another WDH thread an article that pointed out that it is common that dying empires unravel with unholy speed: a single year for Portugal, two years for the Soviet Union, eight years for France, eleven years for the Ottomans, seventeen years for Great Britain… I predict that the United States will fall in about the same time that the other empire that eventually liberated the blacks fell: Portugal. After all, Austrian economists predict that the collapse of the American dollar will unfold very, very rapidly, with hyperinflation leading to the collapse of all of the US government’s power. (If you don’t believe it and want to discuss the issues, please do it in a thread that has received zero comments: here.)

The good news is that imperial decline tends to have a remarkably demoralizing impact on a society especially after economic privation.

Only decades after the coming eschaton and the ensuing chaos and cure for humility for North Americans could a revaluation of all Judeo-Christian values be manifested by means of replacing the Gregorian calendar by the new one. Only such a cultural shock will convey the westerners in general and the North Americans in particular the eschatological sign that the Christian era, which inadvertently had been responsible for the Judaization of the West after Luther, is over. Like the author of “The Red Giant” I believe that the age of all those centuries since the founder of Constantinople handed over the Roman Empire to his bishops is coming to an end. In the new era no more white children will be taught of the feats of Moses and David and Yĕhōšuă (“Jesus”). Instead, they will be taught the doings of Vercingetorix and Hermann and Hitler—even when these Aryans died most tragically while defending their people.

Covington in uniform

Novelist Harold Covington in uniform

For that reason alone, yesterday I added excerpts of a novel that conveys the feeling of what a future Nationalist Socialist Republic would look in the American Northwest, just in case that the Anglo-Saxons do indeed atone for their mortal sins.

In the following days I will be adding more and more excerpted chapters. Enjoy the coming entries or, still better, obtain a hard copy of a novel where the Swastika will be used in the uniforms of the Seattle and Portland military and police.

Ex Gladio Libertas!
Anno Hitleris 68