‘Best of all is the fact that Franklin supposedly has been killing mixed couples… the rotten Whites right along with the Blacks. Bravo!’
—SIEGE, page 275
‘Best of all is the fact that Franklin supposedly has been killing mixed couples… the rotten Whites right along with the Blacks. Bravo!’
—SIEGE, page 275
An August 31, 2014 comment on this site:
I took a hard look at the behavior of white women around me, and all those I knew…
I will admit that I was wrong. We can not live if we don’t have the willingness to slaughter those who are planning and executing the destruction of our race. Violence is the answer, now more than ever. Those who are willing to live will fight, and those not willing to fight will be hunted down and butchered alive for treason. Any creature which willingly serves its own children as a sacrifice to a diversity god must be destroyed in rivers of blood.
I now understand after reviewing the state of Aryan men and women around me, that your proposed methods don’t go too far enough. What we need more than anything is the complete annihilation of anything that is even remotely liberal, jewish, and unaryan. Drugs, sex, porn, alcohol, vice, and degeneracy—like the whores of late Rome they all indulge in the Semitic sins. They are not our people. Even if they carry our genes those will too be lost with time. They are wholly an abomination and deserve to be purified. Allowing them to spread the cancer the Jew has infected them with would be suicide.
While I still try to cling to Aryan honor, tradition and high culture and spirituality, I realize these things are what blinded me from seeing this abhorrent creature that they truly are. I had seen clairvoyantly what they were, and peered into their soul. I saw a desecrated zombie masquerading as an Aryan, a filth-filled soul that has been eternally perverted by the Jew. Nothing will ever be brought back from them and they are an eternal blight to anything around them.
All of it must go, Chechar. We need to kill them all, and ensure with the most painful, powerful and memorable methods that this is never going to happen again.
Hail Ares, the Lord of Struggle!
Editor’s note. With the exception of how Trebor’s pal, some time later according to the internal chronology of the novel, abducted his own Sabine woman I won’t reproduce the rest of the novel:
The country club golf course was surrounded by an eight foot high chain link fence. A gate providing access to a service road for maintenance vehicles and supplies was situated at the far end of the course from the club house. Opening the gate would be child’s play for Trebor. They would however have to leave the car parked outside the course and proceed on foot to Dory’s parents’ house in order to avoid detection by the groundskeepers, who would be watering and mowing fairways and greens all night long.
Wearing dark clothes and carrying their usual issue of weapons and tools, the efficient raiders arrived at the two story brick home which was their destination shortly before midnight. They could see no lights on in the house. Finding a pair of expensive cars in the garage, they surmised that the family was already asleep.
To their delight they discovered that a back door to the palatial home was unlocked. “Guess these rich folks feel pretty secure,” Eric whispered.
“Uhmmm,” was all Trebor replied.
Due to its isolation the house was too dark to explore without the aid of the small flashlights they carried. Reconnaissance of the first floor found it devoid of humans. After creeping silently up the stairs to the second floor, they found there were a half dozen doors, all of them closed. No way to know which door might lead to Dory’s bedroom, and it was too dark to explore rooms without using flashlights, which would likely awaken the occupants. This would have to be done the hard way.
Standing at one end of a hallway, they whispered. “Might as well start here at the first door,” said Trebor.
“Okay, I go in first,” Eric was eager.
“Okay.”
Slowly and silently Eric turned the doorknob of the first doorway and eased it open. It was pitch dark, and they couldn’t see a thing. Suddenly Trebor switched on his flashlight and illuminated what turned out to be some kind of studio or study. There was no one in the room but the raiders. Each heaved a sigh of frustration because the tension would have to be repeated.
A second door opened into a deserted guest bedroom. The third room was occupied, but unfortunately not by Dory. Trebor’s flashlight revealed a couple sleeping on a king-sized bed. The man, an overweight specimen perhaps fifty years old, awakened almost instantly, shielding his eyes from the light. He stammered, “What the hell, who are you?”
Eric flipped on the light switch and closed the door. Now both raiders stood revealed, holding 9mm handguns aimed at the bed. The woman woke up then, saw the KD raiders and screamed.
“Shut up,” Trebor warned in a quiet but menacing voice, aiming his handgun directly at the hysterical woman’s face. The screaming ended abruptly. “No telling who she woke up. You’d better look for your girl now,” Trebor advised.
As Eric hurried to find Dory’s bedroom, Trebor began to tie up her parents with duct tape around their ankles and wrists. Dory’s mother was a rather attractive woman despite showing signs of wear from a dissipated life. In a trembling voice she asked, “What do you want?”
“Just your daughter,” Trebor replied. He was disgusted to see the look of relief on the woman’s face. She had to know that horrible fates often awaited women who were abducted, but obviously she didn’t care so long as her own decadent carcass was safe.
“Why our daughter?” the overweight man asked.
“To save her,” was Trebor’s terse reply.
“Save her? Save her from what?”
“From dating and mating with non-Whites,” Trebor explained.
“There’s nothing wrong with that. We’re all equal. We can’t be racist!” The System line spouted by the slob made Trebor want to vomit.
The woman chimed in, “Hell, my oldest daughter is married to an African-American.” Although they didn’t know it, the two racial renegades had just sealed their own fates.
Meanwhile Eric raced down the hall, opening doors and flipping on lights. The first two rooms were empty. In the third he discovered that Dory had indeed been awakened by her mother’s scream. She had a phone in her hand and was just about to dial the police emergency number. He leaped across the room and struck the instrument from her hand.
The two sized each other up. Dressed in a short nightie that showed all of her shapely legs and the outlines of firm young breasts, Dory was a vision that aroused Eric despite the tension of the moment. A pert nose, pouty lips, and just a few freckles decorated a pretty face framed by flowing light brown hair. Despite the terror in her eyes, she was a fine figure of a woman.
What Dory saw was a stocky but well built, clean cut young man holding a gun that looked like a cannon to her.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she stammered.
Although his Aryan soul would have preferred to offer solace and comfort, Eric knew that a whole new mindset would have to be created in his captive, a mindset in which respect and compassion were earned by service to folk, mate and family, not by demands or pleas. So his response was brusque. “You have one minute to get dressed. I’d recommend jeans, a sweater and sneakers,” he advised.
When Dory hesitated, Eric began to count off the seconds aloud while pointing to his gun. At the count of ten Dory scrambled to obey, too terrified to consider the show she was putting on for the intruder. Eric didn’t miss a thing.
Moments later Eric and Dory arrived at the door to the bedroom where Trebor was talking to her parents.
“I’ll be downstairs in a minute,” said Trebor, indicating Eric should take his captive down there and wait. When they had left, Trebor turned to the pair on the bed.
“Untold thousands of generations of your ancestors struggled, fought and died so that beauty like your daughter’s would exist on Midgard today. Then you taught your daughters to defile their heritage by mating with Skraelings. This is justice.” With that he plunged his knife into their throats, first one, then the other, all in one swift motion.
Wiping his knife clean on a blanket, he muttered curses upon the very memory such vile creatures, then went to join Eric.
“Sorry, young lady, but we can’t take a chance on you screaming,” Trebor advised before placing a piece of tape across Dory’s mouth. Each of the raiders holding one of her arms, they escorted her across the dark golf course and placed her into the back seat of their car with Eric.
As Trebor headed the car for Kinsland, Eric removed the tape covering Dory’s mouth.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked in a quavering voice.
“Kinsland,” Eric told her.
Like Candy and Heather before her, Dory became even more terrified upon hearing such news. Certain that a fate worse than a quick death awaited her, she gasped, “Why, why me?”
“Because you are good genetic material and I need a mate.”
“You mean, like a wife?” Dory could not hide the astonishment in her voice. Eric merely nodded.
“What about him?” She indicated Trebor.
“Oh, Trebor just acquired two new mates very recently. He has no interest in you.”
“Two wives?”
“Sure. You have a problem with that?”
Anxious not to offend her captors, Dory quickly avowed that it was none of her business to judge. Now that it seemed she wasn’t about to be tortured or killed, she felt emboldened enough to ask questions.
____________________
KD Rebel is available from Daybreak Press: here.
The problem I see with today’s racists is that they are blind about the extremely toxic aspects of their culture. Gambling in Las Vegas or listening degenerate music are two sides of the same coin.
It’s a shame that a White guy snapped and killed a bunch of fellow Whites [in Las Vegas Strip shooting] who were enjoying a White oriented C&W music festival. But that’s the kind of stressed-out society we live in now. So I blame the jews and the niggers.
In a subsequent comment this Occidental Dissent commenter added: ‘This particular nut may have realized that killing a lot of innocent White people…’ (italics added).
I have also seen the article in The Daily Stormer on the massacre. Apparently the commenters ignore that Las Vegas is Gomorrah, and that no psychically healthy white should be around that place. This is analogous to what happened not long ago in a concert hall in Paris: the righteous Muslims massacred the Europeans who were listening degenerate music.
The abyss that separates me from the white nationalist can be conceived if imagining myself as a Lot trapped in a Gomorrah from which he cannot get out. Events like those in Las Vegas or Paris enter my mind in a radically different way as they enter the mind of the typical normie or white nationalist (compared to me, they’re the same).
For me, a few white degenerates have died; and my mind flies to the Norwegian violin we hear when we look at Edoras in the second LOTR film or my nostalgia for the films I saw as a child, like this one of a Julius Verne novel situated in nineteenth-century Scotland. Both scenes depict the antithesis of degeneracy: extremely healthy whites.
If there is one thing that white nationalists will never understand is that white Gomorrahites must die for the ethno-state to be born. Pierce saw that in The Turner Diaries but hardly anyone, as far as I know, has done a deep reading of the novel.
Yesterday I watched a popular video with Ben Shapiro sitting beside a trans-man who claims he’s a woman. Samantha Schacher, host of Pop Trigger, said that we should expand our inclusiveness and compassion to these machos that pose as women.
This morning I had to pick up a bill from a hospital. Since the parking lot is expensive I parked the car a few blocks away from the hospital and the walking gave me the opportunity for a little soliloquy about the video in which, by the way, the muscular tranny threatened skinny Shapiro with violence as the latter said that transgenderism is a mental disorder.
But what made me think was Samantha’s impassioned speech that we should start mainstreaming transgenderism.
This is the conclusion of my peripatetic self-conversation: Women are, biologically, sexual objects. Just look at the fairest specimens of Homo sapiens and it’s all-too clear that Nature wants that we impregnate them all. Their brain is hard-wired not only to have lots of babies, but to nurture and raise them with empathy.
Once we tell women that they are not objects but ‘souls’ in the Christian and Neo-Christian sense of the term, free-will entities that just happen to inhabit a woman’s body, little women will forfeit Mother Nature by not having babies.
The psychological toll of forfeiting motherhood is apocalyptic. Feminism becomes a weapon of mass destruction not only for the fair race, but for the fair sex as well. For the liberated woman, her hard-wired sense of compassion starts to be transferred onto apparently unprotected humans that are not her own babies. That’s how the Negro and the Homo and the Tranny became like the new babies for the childless woman or even those who, like Samantha, only have one child.
I call the process pathological transference of compassion and presently it is affecting almost all western women, including those feminised males and manly females in white nationalism that are scared of the humorous ‘white sharia’ meme.
The cure for the disease is simple. Forget the white sharia meme for the moment. Use a Western meme instead. Just wait until the convergence of catastrophes makes the holy racial wars possible and the founders of a New Rome will abduct and rape the fairest Sabines as described in David Lane’s novel KD Rebel. (By the way, wouldn’t it be nice if I start publishing Lane’s novel in this site?)
And believe it or not: the pretty Sabines will be the lucky ones. Those who are not fair, e.g. fat women well after their teens and early twenties like Heather Heyer will face justice in the Day of the Rope. To quote Pierce’s novel, ‘There are many thousands of hanging female corpses like that in this city tonight, all wearing identical placards around their necks. They are the White women who were married to or living with Blacks, with Jews, or with other non-White males’.
And thus the feminist problem is solved.
Sprayed yesterday on Canada’s Highway 400
These fucking Canadians moved me today to change the subtitle of this site. Listen Pierce’s novel to see what will happen to Judaized Canada after the Holy Racial Wars!
“Good, I hate pop music and I especially hate female pop musicians… and those who go to such concerts. Some stupid fat British pop music fans—most likely females, got blown up, I’m Lovin It!”
—Tank
(1994-2015)
Anton Lundin Pettersson was a brave warrior from Sweden, who, on the 22nd of October 2015, decided to go for the high score. What makes him unique is that instead of going apeshit with a gun like many others before him did, he used nothing but his sword and skill. He infiltrated a school predominantly occupied with immigrants and stabbed the fuck out of four noobs (two of which died) before getting pwn’d by the pigs.
______________________
Editor’s note: The above passage is taken from the current incarnation of the article at Encyclopedia Dramatica. The passage might be removed or modified in the future by a politically-correct editor.
Of the London Forum speeches, the one by Kai Murros I liked the most, especially his message for revolutionaries: talk to the farmers; talk to the working class! Blame the academia and the One Ring (materialism). He also speaks favourably of holy rage, something that I absolutely endorse, especially in the forthcoming revolutionary times!
https://youtu.be/8wNMgxQFZpg
“You will go to the extremes… You will commit those acts without remorse because too much is at stake. England is at stake. All wars and conflicts… will pale in comparison to what is coming. Soon history will be made again in this land… English people will love you… especially when you do the most cruel and horrible things. True love is eventually measured by your ability and your willingness to become a monster, in order to protect those you love. You will do the unthinkable… You will do what cannot be discussed later. What England most desperately needs now is a revolution… And this revolution is long overdue.”
Night of 14th-15th September 1941
Criminals in war-time—
The habits of the Jurists.
I’ve ordered Himmler, in the event of there some day being reason to fear troubles back at home, to liquidate everything he finds in the concentration camps. Thus at a stroke the revolution would be deprived of its leaders.
The old Reich knew already how to act with firmness in the occupied areas. That’s how attempts at sabotage to the railways in Belgium were punished by Count von der Goltz. He had all the villages burnt within a radius of several kilometres, after having had all the mayors shot, the men imprisoned and the women and children evacuated. There were three or four acts of violence in all, then nothing more happened. It’s true that in 1918 the population adopted a hostile attitude towards German troops going up into the line.
Nowadays it’s the same thing. During the campaign in Poland, the lawyers tried to blame the troops because the latter had shot sixty civilians in a region where wounded soldiers had been massacred. In such a case, a lawyer opens legal proceedings against X. His enquiry leads nowhere, of course, for nobody has ever seen anything, and if anyone knows the guilty man, he’ll take good care not to inform against a “member of the Resistance”.
Lawyers cannot understand that in exceptional times new laws become valid. I shall be interested to know whether they’ll pass the death sentence on that madman who set fire to the Bremen—deliberately, it’s said, from a liking for setting things alight. I’ve given instructions for the event of the man’s not being condemned to death. He’s to be shot immediately.