“Racist is a control word for Whites.”
—Robroy
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The Yearling, 9
Now that I have been showing my colors—I believe that during and after the peak oil crises we can only save our white skins by returning to bucolic farming—, my initiative of adding excerpts of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings’ masterpiece might start to become apparent. But in fact it’s far more than that, as I will disclose in subsequent excerpts. For the moment suffice it to say that in the novel father and son visited grandma again:
In the morning, Penny said, “We got to agree now, will we stay with Grandma Hutto tonight or come home. Do we spend the night, Jody’s got to stay here to milk and feed the dogs and chickens.”
Jody said, “Trixie’s near about dry, Pa. And we kin leave feed. Leave me go, but please let’s stay with Grandma Hutto.”
Penny said to his wife, “You want to stay there tonight?”
“No, I don’t. Her and me don’t never swop much honey.”
“Then we’ll not stay. Jody, you kin go, but no teasin’ to stay after we git there.”
“What must I do with Flag? Cain’t he foller along so Grandma kin see him?”
Ma Baxter burst out, “That blasted fawn! They ain’t never been such a nuisance on the place, even countin’ you.”
He said with hurt pride, “I reckon I’ll jest stay here with him.”
Penny said, “Now boy, tie up the creetur and fergit him. He ain’t a dog, he ain’t a young un, though you’ve near about made one outen him. You cain’t carry him places like a gal would a play-dolly.”
For sheer jealousness that a blonde married grandma’s son the Forresters (pic below) committed a mean act:
Penny said, “Must be a woods fire some’eres. Oh, my God.”
The position of the fire was unmistakable. Around the bend of the road, down the lane of oleanders, flames were shooting high into the air. Grandma Hutto’s house was burning. They turned into the yard. The house was a bonfire. The flames showed details of the rooms within. Fluff ran to them, his tail between his legs. They jumped down from the wagon.
Grandma called, “Oliver! Oliver!”
It was impossible to approach within yards. Grandma ran toward the blaze. Penny pulled her back.
He shouted above the roaring and crackling, “You want to git burnt to death?”
“Oliver’s there! Oliver! Oliver!”
“He cain’t be. He’d of got out.”
“They’ve shot him! He’s in there! Oliver!”
He struggled with her. In the bright light the earth was plain. It was cut and trampled with the hooves of horses. But the Forresters and their mounts were gone.
Ma Baxter said, “There’s jest nothin’ them black buzzards won’t do.”
Grandma Hutto fought to break free.
Penny said, “Jody, for the Lord’s sake, drive back to Boyles’ store and see kin you find somebody seed where Oliver headed when he left the boat. If there’s nobody there, go on to the doin’s and find out from the stranger.”
Jody clambered to the wagon seat and turned Cæsar [the horse] back up the lane. His hands seemed wooden and he fumbled with the reins. He was panicked and could not remember whether his father had told him to go first to the doings or first to the store. If Oliver was alive, he would never be unfaithful to him, even in his mind, again. He turned into the road. The winter night was bright with stars. Cæsar snorted. A man and woman were walking down the road toward the river. He heard the man laugh.
He cried, “Oliver!” and jumped from the moving wagon.
Oliver called, “Now look who’s drivin’ around by hisself. Hey, Jody.”
The woman was Twink Weatherby.
Jody said, “Git in the wagon, quick, Oliver.”
“What’s the hurry? Where’s your manners? Speak to the lady.”
“Oliver, Grandma’s house is a-fire. The Forresters done it.”
Oliver tossed his bags into the wagon. He lifted Twink and swung her to the seat, then vaulted the wheel and took the reins. Jody scrambled up beside him. Oliver groped with one hand inside his shirt and laid his revolver on the seat.
“The Forresters is gone,” Jody said.
Oliver whipped the horse to a trot and turned down the lane. The frame of the house stood revealed around the flames, as though a box enclosed them. Oliver caught his breath.
“Ma wasn’t in it?”
“She’s yonder.”
Oliver stopped the wagon and they climbed down.
He called, “Ma!”
Grandma threw her arms in the air and ran to her son.
He said, “Easy, there, old lady. Quit tremblin’ now. Easy.”
Penny joined them.
He said, “No man’s voice was never more welcome, Oliver.”
Oliver pushed Grandma aside and stared at the house. The roof crashed and a fresh blaze leaped to the moss in the live oaks.
He said, “Which-a-way has the Forresters gone?”
Jody heard Grandma murmur, “Oh God.”
She braced herself.
She said loudly, “Now what in tarnation you want o’ the Forresters?”
Oliver wheeled.
“Jody said they done it.”
“Jody, you fool young un. The idees a boy’ll git. I left a lamp burnin’ by a open window. The curtain must of blowed and ketched. Hit worried me all through the evenin’ at the doin’s. Jody, you must want a ruckus mighty bad.”
Jody gaped at her. His mother’s mouth was open.
Ma Baxter said, “Why, you know–”
Jody saw his father grip her arm.
Penny said, “Yes, son, you got no business thinkin’ sich things of innocent men is miles away.”
Oliver let out his breath slowly.
He said, “I’m shore proud ’twasn’t their doin’. I’d not of left one alive.” He turned and drew Twink close to him. “Folks, meet my wife.”
Grandma Hutto wavered, then walked to the girl and kissed her cheek.
Grandma had to say goodbye to Florida and move to Boston with her son after the destruction of her homely, country cottage:
“Good-by, Grandma! Good-by, Oliver! Good-by, Twink!”
“Good-by, Jody–”
Their voices trailed away. It seemed to Jody that they were moving away from him into another world. It was as though he saw them die. There were rosy streaks across the east but the daylight seemed even colder than the night had been. The ashes of the Hutto house glowed faintly.
The Baxters drove home toward the scrub. Penny was wracked with sorrow for his friends. His face was strained. Jody was swept with so contradictory a tumult of thoughts that he gave up trying to sort them and snuggled down on the wagon-seat between the warmth of his mother and father.
But there still was consolation:
The cabin waited for him, and the smoke-house full of good meat, with old Slewfoot’s carcass added to it, and Flag. Above all, Flag. He could scarcely contain himself until he reached the shed. He had a tale to tell him.
A fascinating interview of Sebastian Ernst Ronin (photo) with Joe and John on The White Voice. And not only about why peak oil should be the central subject among ethno-nationalists. Sebastian also answered tough questions from the interviewer about why he had been critical of Christian Identitarian Matt Heimbach.
Since most nationalists are willfully illiterate about the total energy devolution that is coming—very few know that America’s bottom will drop out within our lifespans—, I agree with Sebastian that his party “is the future.” I also agree that there is no record in revolutionary history that the faction that will become the dominant ideology can do it through courteous diplomacy with the competing groups and without any in-fighting.
Listen to the interview starting in minute 52 (here)!
Update of 8 December 2015:
I have now distanced myself from Ronin’s party. Admitting women in the inner party is almost like admitting Jews.
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Kai Murros
The recent video-post in Murderbymedia was re-blogged on Mindweapons in Ragnarok, who commented:
Kai Murros [pic above] saying exactly the same thing this blog harps about—liberalism and its project of remaking White Human Nature into a race of submissive doormats is going to fail hard as the economy contracts and people are in a struggle for survival. Struggle will bring out White Human Nature at it’s finest; red in tooth and claw.
I can agree no more. See also: here.
by Manu Rodríguez
It always seems to me that the words are to be used in a certain way. We must think the words. Before using a word we should weigh it, measure it, investigate it from the beginning and set certain (even personal) criteria for their use, and stick to these criteria. We must also notice the semantic versatility of the multiple uses of the terms of the language, their evolution, and possible manipulation.
The processes of acculturation and enculturation we suffered after the Christianization of our peoples also brought some semantic changes, and the reprocessing or re-interpretation of certain concepts (religion, sacred, profane, heathen).
We have, for example, centuries considering as secular the institutions and traditions that are not specifically Christian. The Christian priests applied, and taught us (forced us, rather) to apply the term “sacred” only to the Judeo-messianic tradition. Our traditions, institutions, and customs (Greek, Roman, Germanic, Celtic…) were disallowed, deconsecrated. Is not this a linguistic-cultural tort to be corrected, or straighten? How can we give the blind eye to this deception? It affects us, it’s about us, about our past.
Another change we had with the term “pagan,” which designates the customs and traditions of the peasants, and the peasants themselves. It came to refer to all non-Christian individuals, peoples, or cultures. This was a pejorative use of the term, since the term “pagan” had connotations with terms like uneducated, uncultured or uncivilized. This shift in meaning came to say that what was cultivated or civilized was on the Christian side, and that the pagan was the wild, the uneducated, the rustic, the unlearned…
We exclude, therefore, the word “pagan” from our vocabulary. We are not “pagans” or “neo-pagans” but Aryans and have (or had) our cultures: Greek, Roman, Germanic, Slavic, Celtic… Those are the derogatory terms that Jews, Christians, and Muslims have used or use to refer to the people who still have their own cultures and traditions; peoples not yet alienated or contaminated: those who do not follow the game.
_____________
See the rest of Manu’s entry, “Sobre el valor de las raíces culturales de los europeos” at his blog, where Manu mentions Guénon and Evola in negative terms.
I have read part of Hellstorm. It is difficult to go on to read page after page of unimaginable crimes committed against Germany and the German people. To draw such hellish hatred from the Good People one has to suppose that Germany holds a key position in world history.
And I think that German being has always gone beyond commerce, power, domination, money, but has striven for an earthly ideal of human freedom and communion with nature which sheds the primitive value system of gold, avarice and covetousness. I can’t put my thoughts more succinctly and less flowery at this point, but it is clear that Germanity is unlike other manifestations of being. I think that the German soul has a genuine way of being happy within this world, perhaps because the old gods hold still sway and make their presence felt.
Pope and Emperor, Church and Reformation, Paganism and Christianity, Democracy and Leader Elect have found their strongest contrary expressions in Germany and for the time being Democracy has won out as Western-style Parliamentarism with all its degeneracy, venality, mendacity, hypocrisy, the exact opposite what Germanic community is: Independence and faithfulness to an elect leader, putting community before individuality as the utmost guiding principle.
I have recently acquired some books on the anti-German propaganda in the English-speaking world. As difficult as it is to read Goodrich’s Hellstorm, as difficult it is to read Vansittart’s writings.
This man carries a large part of the burden of criminal guilt in inciting unrelenting hatred against Germans and Germany and to bring to an end Europe’s development towards freedom for its people and freedom for its manifestation in the world. Even in 1943 (Lessons of my Life) when the million-fold murder resulting from his and other’s instatement to hatred and inhumanity was daily broadcast, he continues to utter his ideas of the German lust for world conquest, even manifest at the time of Hermann the Cherusker who fought against the Romans in Germany.
Apparently, if Germans wanted foreign powers not to mingle in their affairs this was an expression of bellicosity and a plan for world domination, and so it is today.
To understand why that should be so is a key element in history.
Source: here
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p.s.
Slightly edited, the following is one of my comments from the previous thread:
About the 1920 photo I forgot to add that the clothing in the background was the factory’s product: they used to sell that stuff.
Above, a very Frenchified house in the early 1920s in Mexico City, certainly the blacksmithing is pre-art nouveau, where some of the family I mention in the previous post appear (plus my grandma from my mother’s side). The men on dark suits are not family members.
Below right, my grand-grandmother María (a friend says I look like her!), who I still met as a small child when she was much older. When she was a girl her hair, still kept by my mother, shows she was blond.
Left, my aunt Mina (María’s daughter), mentioned in the post, in her teens (her daughter Blanquita appears at the top of the previous entry).
Right, my cousin Rodolfo, also mentioned in the previous post (his father, the big fan of Hitler), with me lifting my arm as a child (I don’t want to use more recent pics of him or of my late uncle; people might recognize him in San Jose, Ca.).
Above: The interior of the house: Roberto Martínez’s mansion (my grand-grandfather). The picture on the wall was the family’s priest, “Papito.” My Uncle Pepe plays the piano (the guy sitting next to him, Andrés, was not a family member; nor the guy who’s standing, presumably the butler). My grandmother is sitting next to Andrés (this guest also appears in the photo at the top).
The woman sitting between my grandma and my aunt Mina is another guest. My godmother Josefina is the child on the floor (Mina and Josefina were the sisters of my grandma). All people of the photo have passed away: my godmother, the youngest of them, passed in 2005; my grandma, in 2008.
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My grandpa’s slave
In another thread, Mr. Deutsch asked me today:
“In Mexico, how many racially conscious whites have you met? I’m guessing what keeps race-mixing from being a free-for-all is economic stratification?”
Yes: social class is paramount here.
To answer your question: my Uncle Beto, who died in 1983 and admired Hitler; his son, my cousin Rodolfo who presently is living in San Jose in California; my aunt Mina who died in 2001 (photo above – her late daughter who had close ties with my family); a High School pal with a lightest blond hair from the Colegio Madrid in Mexico City (I guess this guy of Iberian ancestry is still with us), and my friend Miguel Martínez (I can mention his name because there are thousands of “Miguel Martínez” here).
As you can see, only a handful.
The problem with Latin American whites is that we have family, relatives or close friends with mixed blood or that have miscegenated. Once your family (sisters, brothers) / relatives / friends / acquaintances make that step, most of what remained of white solidarity after universal Catholicism and secular liberalism vanishes rapidly. The ethnocidal mess started half a millennium ago, right during the conquest of Mexico.
Within my family and relatives the only taboo would be to marry a black or a mulatto (none of them have done that as far as I know, though a first cousin married a Japanese). But marrying a brunette is perfectly OK. Excepting a white revolution in the First World that infects the white zeitgeist of the Third World, white Mexicans are doomed and beyond repair; mestization, their ultimate destiny.
In this pic of ca. 1920 Uncle Carlos and Uncle Tóbal are sitting while Antonio Roque, a mulatto, is standing: my grandpa’s slave (my grandfather does not appear in the photo). Antonio was a very faithful slave, and lived with my grandfather, his master, until old age caught him and my grandparents consigned him to an asylum in 1939 (when my dad was fourteen years old).
Yesterday I deleted an entry about Matt Heimbach because I couldn’t find actual sources for the words put into his mouth. Today I’d like to add another provisional entry that I’ll also delete if actual sources are not provided for the quotations mentioned below.
At the blog Destroy Zionism, Streicher’s Ghost wrote:
Matthew Heimbach, the founder of the “White Student Union” which has generated some controversy recently, has participated in a radio interview with a crack-smoking Negro. In it, Heimbach says: “if a Jew converted to Christianity, I would accept him as a brother in Christ.”
This is in accordance with the words from Galatians 3:28—written by the Jew Paul (Saul)—in the New Testament: “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”
Heimbach also says that he prefers Black Christians to White Pagans.
The radio show (Heimbach talks about 25 minutes into the show).
To be fair, the author of the above piece did provide a source: the radio show. But I don’t have the time or the patience to listen that long interview. If someone of my readers does, please provide the exact minute and approximate seconds when Heimbach said “if a Jew converted to Christianity, I would accept him as a brother in Christ” (that this is quite problematic is easily shown if we remember the late Larry Auster).
The other claim, that Heimbach prefers black Christians to white pagans, is more problematic because it’s not even stated in quotation marks. Did he really say it? I’ll need a source to allow this entry stay at WDH.
In the comment section Varg Vikernes said, “Actually, I think this [news about Heimbach] is good; it illustrates well the problem with Christians.” I would agree with Vikernes only if the two quotations are real.
What convinced me that there’s something real about peak oil predictions were Chris Martenson’s interviews of professionals in the field who don’t believe what Martenson says; i.e., these skeptics believe that other sources of energy will be found. It was precisely the arguments presented by Martenson and the very friendly discussions in his programs with the skeptics what convinced me that those who debated him were wrong.
For beginners to the debate see Chris Martenson’s 45-minute Crash Course:
Some energy researchers are fearing that, by the end of the century, 5 billion humans will die of unnatural deaths (malnutrition, starvation, disease, civil war, etc.). These surplus of humans are the direct result of a deranged use of oil reservoirs.
If you believe in social entropy you know that when a System disintegrates another system starts to integrate at the same time. The best example that occurs to me is the city of Constantinople, which flourished when Europe fell into utter chaos, with native Europeans becoming very few by the sixth century.
Something similar will probably happen in our century.