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Francis Parker Yockey Galileo Galilee Nicolaus Copernicus Philosophy of history

Imperium excerpts, chapter V

A book dedicated “To the hero of the Second World War”


The 20th Century Historical Outlook

The Demise of the Linear View of History





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Life is a continuous battle between Young and Old, Old and New, Innovation and Tradition. Ask Galileo, Bruno, Servetus, Copernicus, Gauss. All of them represented the Future, yet all were overcome, in one way or another, during their own lives, by the enthroned Past. Copernicus was afraid to publish during his lifetime, lest he be burned as heretic. Gauss only revealed his liberating discovery of non-Euclidean geometries after his death, for fear of the clamor of the Boeotians. It is therefore not surprising when the materialists persecute, by maligning, by conspiracy of silence, cutting off from access to publicity, or by driving to suicide, as in the case of Haushofer, those who think in 20th century terms and specifically reject the methods and conclusions of 19th century materialism.

Even in the Italian Renaissance, Francesco Pico wrote against the mania for the Classical: “Who will be afraid to confront Plato with Augustine, or Aristotle with Thomas, Albert, and Scotus?” Savonarola’s movement also had cultural, as well as religious, significance: into the bonfires went the Classical works. The whole Classicist tendency of the Italian Renaissance has been too heavily drawn: it was literary, academic, the possession of a few small circles, and those not the leading ones in thought or action.

And yet this movement has been put forward as the “link” between two Cultures that have nothing in common in order to create a picture of History as a straight line instead of as the spiritually parallel, pure, independent, development of High Cultures.

Categories
Civil war Justice / revenge

“Blood was about to be spilled once more in humanity’s longest war”


The Brigade excerpts, chapter IV

by Harold Covington

Valentine’s Night



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“This is going to be a doozy of an opening number for D Company, and we’ve got one week to work out all the details,” Hatfield told them all in a cheerful voice. “We’re going to try for two major takedowns within 24 hours, the second one flowing from the first. This means we’ve got to plan and carry out the Goldman hit in such a way as to leave us windows of opportunity for the FBI attack. I’ve thought about this, and I think the best place to hit the feebs would be at the same place we do Jake and Irene. I am basing this on the assumption that the FBI, when they do show up to investigate this nasty horrible hatecrime, will be constrained to at least put in a token appearance at the actual crime scene and pretend they’re Sherlock Holmes looking for clues and dogs that didn’t bark in the night.

“I want to do the Goldmans up close and personal, with handguns, so that the FBI and the cops don’t get an inkling that we have somebody of Volunteer Lockhart’s skill and stature on our side. We’ll introduce ’em to the boy on bigger targets than a couple of Jews.”

*   *   *

“I was in there once,” said Ekstrom. “Took Eva there for dinner, and unfortunately we’d already sat down before I saw the prices on the menu. I had to max out my one remaining Visa just for salad and a couple of sandwiches.”

“It’s a trés chic watering hole for our Blue State élite, all right,” agreed Hatfield. “One of those places where if you have to ask the price of something, you can’t afford it.”

“Yeah,” continued Charlie. “Wapner isn’t officially on our Jew list, although with that name I’m suspicious, but he’s on the liberal scumbag list. He toadies to the Goldmans and their ilk, probably because he makes his living off of them.

“It seems Wapner doesn’t speak Spanish, so he asked Conchita to run down his Valentine’s night program with his kitchen and wait staff. The Goldmans were a big part of it. They’ve got a special private dining room reserved, but get this—they’re not going to be eating off the regular menu. Goldman has ordered in a special ten-course glatt kosher dinner for two, flown in from, get this, some high-toned restaurant in Jerusalem. This special nosh is going to be coming in from Israel by chartered Lear jet and helicoptered in from Portland to our little airport, and then rushed to the Beanery by taxi, where Wapner will give it a quick warm in his ovens and microwave, specially rabbincally kosherized for the occasion, and serve it up to the happy hebes. Plus all the trimmings, kosher wine and hors d’oeuvres and whatnot, and the whole dining room covered in sheaves of roses. Total cost for this evening of conspicuous consumption, including a handsome backhander to Wapner himself for using his restaurant while not deigning to eat the same food as the rich goyim eat, will be over $60,000.”

“Mother of God!” gasped Campisi. “I’ve never even seen $60,000 in one place. My family has to make do with meat twice a week, and that’s with me and my wife both working.”

“If we do this right there shouldn’t be any shooting except the holes we put in Jake and Irene,” said Hatfield. “Charlie, once you see the targets leave the house, you call us and give us the signal. Tony and I will then pull the Yukon out onto the platform and into the parking area, get into position, and wait.”

“Do we take them before or after their big imported kosher banquet?” asked Tony.

“Before, on their way into the restaurant. We don’t need to be waiting around for a couple of hours with guns in our pockets. Besides,” Hatfield continued in a grim voice, “I don’t want one single sixty thousand-dollar kosher morsel flown in all the way from Jerusalem to go down those kikes’ gullets. I want that vile slap in the face to my people to sit there on the table getting cold and gooey while the roses fade and the petals fall to the floor. Call it a symbolic act. The Goldmans’ day is done, is every sense of the term.”

“Lieutenant, you have the soul of a poet!” laughed Lee. “What if there are people around who might see the whole thing?”

“Then they see the whole thing,” said Zack with a shrug. “We’ll be masked. We shoot them both, triple tap, first bullet dead center to put them down and two more into the head to complete the execution. We walk at a quick pace, but do not run, back to the Yukon and we drive at a normal speed off the pier, and then we rendezvous at Shangri-La.” Shangri-La was a code name for a vacation-rental RV on a scenic bluff overlooking the river in the nearby crossroads village of Knappa.

“Sounds simple enough,” said Len.

“Yah, but the simplest plan can go haywire because of the smallest missed detail or unexpected occurrence,” said Hatfield. “We need to get into the habit of going over these things two dozen times, extrapolating anything that might cause a hitch or go wrong. Now for hit number two, the one that will put D Company on the rebellion’s map. Those dead FBI agents we promised Brigade. That’s where you come in, Cat.”

“Christ Almighty!” he exclaimed. “An M-21!”

“Sniper version of the old M-14, semi-auto, with complete cleaning kit and accessories,” said Ekstrom proudly.

“We had a familiarization course on these at sniper school at Fort Benning, and I think I remember most of it, but I never thought I’d get to use one in action!” said Cat-Eyes Lockhart, balancing and presenting the rifle. “The older guys in the sniper school swore by them. They were all pretty much out of service by the time I went through. Where the hell did they get this beauty?”

“No idea, and I didn’t ask,” Ekstrom told him. “The Commandant just said our brigade’s best sharpshooter needed our best weapon.”

Cat was examining the barrel. “You know, they trained us for kills up to 800 yards at Benning with the M-24, but if I recollect correctly some of the old guys in ‘Nam claimed they killed at a thousand yards with this. In a good covered position, with enough ammo, I could hold off an infantry company. They’d have to bring up copters or artillery.”

“You won’t be standing anyone off, Cat,” said Hatfield. “Shoot and scoot, remember. Don’t risk yourself. If ever it looks like it might be too dangerous, I want you to fade. Remember General Order Number Eight.”

“Well, that’s one thing I wanted to talk to you about, sir,” said Lockhart. “When I was in Iraq, we all had cards or some kind of mark we used to put on or near our kills. Signing our work, so the hadjis would know who was on their tail, a psychological warfare thing. I was the Jack of Diamonds. I was wondering if it would be allowable for me to do the same here? When I can do so safely, of course? Maybe leave the card in my firing position for them to find?”

“Wouldn’t that be just broadcasting your identity to the enemy?” asked Hatfield.

“Look, they’re not dumb. I’ve already got a record for horrible evil racism and male chauvinism and God knows what else,” reasoned Lockhart.

“You realize that will make you one of the most hunted men in the Pacific Northwest?” demanded Hatfield.

“They’ve already hunted me out of everything,” said Lockhart bitterly. “This filthy society has hunted me out of my wife, my children, my future, my dignity, and my hope. Good honest bullets will make a nice change.”

“Then we’ll start you off with each one of us buying a Bicycle deck and giving you the Jack of Diamonds, only let’s all make sure we wear gloves when we handle the cards. No sense in deliberately leaving the enemy a fingerprint. Now, once again assuming the feebs will show at Rigoletto’s, what about firing positions? Cat, you know that big hill overlooking 39th Street, the heavy woods?”

*   *   *

On Valentine’s night, Zack Hatfield and Tony Campisi sat in the front of a battered old GMC Yukon, parked behind a loading dock just off 39th Street. The night was dark and cloudy, and there was a light drizzling rain, a perfect cover for the Volunteers. The cell phone on the dashboard rang. Zack answered it. “Hello?”

“Is this Luigi’s Pizza?” asked Charlie Washburn on the other end.

“No, I’m sorry, you have the wrong number,” said Zack in an exasperated voice, in case anyone was listening in. He folded the phone. “Okay, they’ve left the house. Charlie and Lee will be behind them. He’ll let us know if there’s any delay or change in their destination he detects, but we need to get into position.” Hatfield started the Yukon and turned on the lights, and a moment later he rolled onto the long, curved 39th Street Pier. He pulled up into the parking lot on the former cannery platform and found the one available remaining space, which he carefully backed into. The restaurant was crowded, no doubt with Valentining couples. They could hear the noise and clinking of dishes and voices even through the rain.

“Where the hell are the Goldmans going to park?” asked Tony, looking around. “They’re chock-a-block in there, it looks like.”

“We will kindly give up our space, of course,” said Hatfield with a chuckle. “Okay, we’ve got a few minutes. Check your weapon, once, and then leave it alone until it’s time to use it.” Tony took out a .38 snub and broke the cylinder, and saw the five .38 Special Black Talon rounds. He closed the cylinder. Zack did the same with his old police-issue Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum. They were both using revolvers so as not to have to go scrambling around looking for ejected cartridge casings.”

“How you holding up, Tony?” asked Hatfield, noticing a slight shake in Campisi’s hands.

Campisi understood what he was talking about.

“You’ll do fine,” said Zack with a smile. “Just remember, let me fire first. I’ll take the yenta, you take Jake. Call it psychology. I’ve killed women before, here and in Iraq, and so has Cat-Eyes, and it doesn’t bother us, but for their own self-image and emotional strength I think every Volunteer’s first kill needs to be a man, and a clear racial enemy, a Jew or a nigger or a fed of some kind. God knows all the horrible ambiguities of war will set in for us all, in time.” The phone rang again. Zack opened it. A silly child-like voice said, “Is your refrigerator running?”

“Dickhead,” said Zack, and closed the phone. “They’ve just turned onto 39th Street.” Zack started the Yukon’s engine but kept the lights off. “Gun in your left hand, keep your right to open the door.” Campisi took out the .38 and complied. They could see the lights of the Lincoln rolling slowly across the pier toward them.

“Oy, honey, look, that nice man is leaving us his parking space!” mocked Campisi in a girlish voice. The Lincoln slid into the vacated space, and the lights turned off. Zack hit his windshield wipers; the rain was light but steady. He stopped the Yukon at the edge of the bridge. “No one is coming. Couldn’t be more perfect. All right, let’s do it. Masks.”

When they were five feet behind the two expensively dressed people, some sound or sense made the Goldmans both turn. They stared at two men coming out of the darkness just beyond the pool of friendly light and laughter, masked so that only the black of their eyes could be seen, and leveling revolvers at them. The two gunmen said nothing, but Jacob Goldman gasped out in a strangled cry, “You!”

A timeless drama was once again about to be played out, an ancient debt was once more to be paid, and blood was about to be spilled once more in humanity’s longest war.

http://northwestfront.org/

Categories
Francis Parker Yockey Napoleon Philosophy of history

Imperium excerpts, chapter 4

A book dedicated “To the hero of the Second World War”


The 20th Century Historical Outlook

The Meaning of Facts





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Some men have a greater inner need to think abstractly than others.

For one of the characteristics of Life-facts is that distance–particularly temporal distance–shows up their lineaments more clearly. We know more of Imperial history than Tacitus knew, more of Napoleonic history than Napoleon knew, vastly more of the First World War than its creators and participants knew, and Western men in 2050 will know our times in a way that we can never know them.

Categories
Ancient Rome Autobiography Carthage Child abuse Christendom Constantinople Infanticide Lloyd deMause Mozart Psychohistory

Christmas Eve

I have a lot to say about Christianity. Believe me. Decades of my life were destroyed as a result of a focalized abuse perpetrated by my father—a fanatic Catholic—when I was a minor. His verbal abuse and slapping on my face, together with his eschatological doctrine of eternal damnation, broke my adolescent heart. Since as a young person nobody helped me, I was completely unable to process the trauma.

At seventeen I constantly had themes from Mozart’s Requiem stuck in my head in the Catholic school Zumárraga, an ear worm synchronized with the religious metamorphosis that was taking place in my mind: the change from the stage of perceiving God as the loving father of my St. Francis to the terrible God of the Requiem—my introjected Father.

Confutatis maledictis
Flammis acribus addictis
Sed tu bonus fac benigne
Ne perenni cremer igne.

My fear of eternal damnation, what Alice Miller calls “the fighting with the parental introjects,” i.e., the fighting against our inner daddy, reached truly paranoid, medieval levels of obsessive fear, as I recount in my book Hojas Susurrantes (Whispering Leaves). It’s a miracle that, unlike millions of adolescents who have been abused in this infernal way at home, I didn’t lose my mind…

Nevertheless, since the Jews have been targeting Christmas, I won’t criticize my parents’ religion in Christmas Eve. I better copy and paste part of a non-autobiographical chapter of Whispering Leaves that I used to source a couple of online encyclopedias. Pay special attention to the paragraph that starts with the words: “Something completely lost to the modern mind is that…” which, in a nutshell, summarizes my views on why Christianity conquered the souls of the ancient Romans.

The following excerpts relate to the positive side of the religion of my family: how the Church vehemently combated abortion and infanticide among the white people. Let’s remember that infanticidal practices run amok in the Classical World accelerated the fall of the Roman Empire, just as today’s millions of abortions represent a pivotal role in the demographic winter for the white people and the consequent demise of Western civilization.

Relying heavily on Larry S. Milner’s treatise on infanticide, in 2008 I wrote:

Note of August 2, 2018: Several paragraphs that used to be here have been merged within: this post

Christmas postscript

While the wicked are confounded,
doomed to flames of woe unbounded
yet, good Lord, in grace complying,
rescue me from fires undying!





The above is the English translation of the Latin lines.

However disgusting I find to quote a kike, I believe that psychologist Robert Godwin hit a nail. The unconscious message of Christianity is that, when through sacrificial offerings we murder or even torture our innocent son—as was done throughout the Ancient World—, we murder God; and that the crucifixion of Jesus was meant to be the last human sacrifice, with Jesus acting on behalf of our own murdered innocence.

This is the key to understand why a Judaic-inspired cult conquered the Roman Empire. Therefore, and even when I consider myself a spiritual martyr of such religion, I cannot share the views of those nationalists who repudiate every single legacy of such faith. However abominable the doctrine of hell is, what I said above is crucial for a radical—denoting or relating to the roots—understanding of the origins of the religion of our parents.

P.S. of 15 April 2012

See references & comments below.

The Kwa

is the distilled essence of Judaism


“The State of the Kwa: Atlantic City” is a short white fiction piece written on 30 April 2004 by William Ventvogel (“Kwa” means “Amerikwa”: the degenerate, Mammon-worship place that America has become):




I accepted my boss’ invitation to go with him to Atlantic City for a day of gambling. I don’t gamble, but it would be interesting to see the changes. I hadn’t been up there in years. But no, the nature of the place had not changed. It was on artificial life support. There were fewer White workers than I remember in 1980. There were more casinos, and the crowd was darker, but the same dreary Kwaness was intact, the grasping, gluttonous, uncivilized hive activity of American society. Perhaps it would have alarmed one of us, but to a Kwan [someone who lives in the Kwa (Amerikwa)] it was all right. It was a place of good times, you see. And Americans are all about having fun, as Celine said. Most of the restaurant and service staff was Mexican. The issue about Atlantic City, New Jersey, is that it still runs despite the majority black, brown and Jew composition of the people.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think a non-white population can maintain a White civilization. My consideration (as yours), is the strategic one: as the infrastructure ages and the proportion of White to not-white decreases, when does a region become Third World? It will, of course. The day would prompt me to follow this train of speculation. So my boss went off to the poker room for seven hours and I went my way. After paying $15 for a breakfast of sausage and eggs, and after reading the New York Times, I wandered off. Entering that red bag sewer of an ocean was out of the question. (I saw guys surfing it!) The rides were not open for the season yet. All the news stands carried moron picture books and nothing else. The scene outside the casinos is basically one of walking and buying something to eat every 100 yards. You watch the girls for a while. (Five in a hundred were interesting. Far, far too few were White.) The small shops had been taken over by Pakistanis, Indians and Asians. A few very old family pizza businesses carried on, run by Italian or Greek families. But generally it is a place left behind by Whites. It has a run-over, battered feel, like the wake of a glacier. I quickly exhausted the options for diversion, which is a dangerous condition for me. I started thinking.

Atlantic City is a place where everyone thinks that what they want is to be had there. No doubt those with more innate levity and good humor than I possess have fun there. Really, they do. No one I saw appeared to be worried. The Whites had credit cards, the not-whites had credit cards or cash enough. There was no favala-style hardness or predator look, no breadline desperation. The sun was shining and the waves were breaking on the pumped-in sand. The gulls wheeled and screamed in the sunlight. The feral cats that live and breed in serious numbers under the boardwalk were charming the morons. It was a good day to be a Kwan in Atlantic City. But as I stood against the rail there along the boardwalk watching the passers-by, I realized that the basic dynamic of our predicament was to be seen here: there is peace because Whites are yielding. I should point out that any objective survey, cursory or rigorous, of the composition of the mob would reveal it was majority non-white. There were niggers, mestizos and asians and mélanges of all, and these, scaled against the apparently wholly-Whites, outnumbered the Whites. Still, no cause for alarm! There was peace in Atlantic City. Whitey was still running the trains and power stations and giving up his taxes and managing the casinos and motels. He was keeping the books and running the police and fire departments and not overtly resisting, or even objecting, when a nigger or brown thing hits on his daughter.

As I watched that mob of potbellied whiggers, niggers and mélanges pass, I could not avoid speculating how much longer the Kwa can go on, when the center would disintegrate. I am morbid-minded, you see. Like most artists I find the dismal and eccentric more interesting than stock reports and niggerball. I observed the gold chains and backward ball caps, the sneakers, the yo-ball clothing, pierced eyebrows, Neanderthal gaits, the fart machine complex of the under-men doing their mobish thing with instinctual excellence, the way a Jew is instinctually a superb Jew. And I wondered if the cancer would spread into the still-White Kwa interior by the stealthy thoroughness with which it has taken over the northeast coastal region. I would answer yes, but I don’t think the Kwa will last long enough.

The rate of decay is theoretical but still, nothing this stupid can feed itself. Eventually Josefa and Ali, Cho and Shamika and Howard Greenstein are going to look for the White man one day and he will not be there. What then? The White man’s works won’t last forever nor work under all conditions, as they seem to now. The White man makes it all go. Take him away and you have no energy. The White man is fading slowly enough; his parasites are not alarmed.

This is the portal through which anyone who cares to peep might see how it will end. Material systems falter without the hands that created them. Machines require more than rote maintenance. Consider Haiti, a place touched by the White man. The U.S. Marines ran the island of Hispaniola from 1919 to 1933 but they weren’t there only to kick ass for United Fruit and Jew banks. They also made it safe for the uplift crowd, which always follows the ZOG army to improve the lives of the liberated. These are essentially Puritans. They bring democracy and God and women’s rights and other deteriorative voodoo. Yes, the jarheads made it safe for the Puritan uplifters to do their thing. Some good was accomplished: roads, schools, hospitals and power plants were built. The marines built a supposedly legitimate constabulary and army. But hell, that didn’t last long. When Roosevelt pulled the Marines out of the Caribbean in 1933 (his “good neighbor” policy) all of it sank away, of course. Now the Dominican Republic is a shithole, and Haiti is worse than a shithole — it is an abscess. Make no mistake: a people converts its environment into conformity with its instincts. So the animals of Haiti have the land they feel comfortable with. The Dominicans, having more White blood, have not brought their land so low as Haiti but overpopulation and corruption are taking it there. You have noted the ongoing exodus from Hispaniola in vessels of desperate design. Atlantic City would be paradise for them. There they will at least get fed.

And no doubt if they reach “our” shores our corps of uplifters will cover them. The jewsmedia will back the uplifters. The huddled masses win; the tax slaves lose (more). The jewsmedia will form public opinion into demanding services for these people for which the government can’t pay. So the government must borrow the money from Jew York banks — which is the plan. It is a sweet, bombproof strategy for usurers — but one that cannot go on forever. Resources will falter. The average technical and managerial competence will sink. This is ZOG’s Achilles’ heel.

The dynamic is to be seen on the boardwalk and casinos of Atlantic City, New Jersey. The media keep the mob excited — thus diverted. Atlantic City is a break from the mundane pressures, for example the moral peaks, the “personal development” goals. There is also the Big Score by which the gambler hopes to escape “the rat race”. Kwans are conditioned to be perpetually discontent. The media know how and are very good at it. You can detect the method in the casinos, in the slot machines, for example. The machines are digital now, imparting a sense of infinity, derived from the soul of the machines which is circular (circuitry); hence nothing in them really stops. So they emit this sound which affects the senses in this way: it is a crescending sound, tense and always climbing, climbing, like a murder scene in a movie. But it never works out, never ends. It climbs and climbs and the player feeds more quarters, dollars into the mouth of the machine so he will arrive. At what? In a football-field-sized casino several hundreds of these machines make a sound that to a non-gambler is insane. It sounds, brothers, like control. In a casino you might hear for the first time what control sounds like. It is a cacophony that makes slaves.

The only intelligent-looking people I saw were in the Starbucks. What does this mean? It means that practically everyone can be grouped. This is the fact; most of us can be profiled by marketers. All they need is a few weeks of purchase data. Personally I don’t care. They can’t make me spend, so let them watch. The Kwa is, as the kike Zangwill pronounced, “the distilled essence of Judaism.” Hence I turn to the others who feel as I do. Who are the most interesting writers today? White nationalists and (so-called) anarchists. These are the only ones taking on the dynamic of Jew and capitalist herd management. Starbucks has nailed the lit-and-wine set. Starbucks is daylight intelligentsia.

But the market targeting of AmeriKwa is a grand phenomenon, too. It foments sprawl, debt consumer spending and obesity. It is to be seen along most major ZOG interstate highways, for example. Market research offers a theme for every ill-discipline and aspiration. What you are looking for and hope to be can be shopped for at the next strip mall. At night the intensity of the competition is apparent in the banks and banks of lights, like infinite runways. The sheer bigness and complexity of urban/suburban Kwa life must make you wonder what the end will be, and how it will commence. And if you stay in this environment you will go insane. I have concluded that insanity is inevitable. It might be a controlled insanity, a functional insanity, but there is no avoidance of spiritual corruption and identity-death in a high-density aura of AmeriKwa. To survive materially you have only one option: adrenalize or fail. (Hence the need for caffeine.) The pace is accelerating and if you don’t get wired and stay wired (Starbucks) you will be eaten by someone who is.

I saw a lot of “Russians” in Atlantic City. I must say the women were very attractive. They seemed to me to have more easily readable signals and avoidance system than do AmeriKwan women. They were, in short, more feminine. But there are mixed opinions of these “Russians.” Many are zhids [Jews]. Too many had a gaudy and thuggish character. It was new money. The men were wearing gold chains and the women were over-painted and over-dressed. I have Russian friends who would have been embarrassed by the sight of them, I think. And they might have felt a resonance from the Soviet days in the Atlantic City Museum, a small place on the northern end of the boardwalk. There I watched a short film on the history of Atlantic City. It was well done until the end where it described the reasons for Atlantic City’s decline. It commenced in the postwar prosperity when, because people had the money to travel and build backyard pools they stopped coming to Atlantic City. Jet travel to Vegas, my ass! Atlantic City went down the shitter [toilet] because the niggers were growing restive by the desegregation laws the zhids engineered into promulgation in the 1950s and ’60s. The straw(s) that broke Atlantic City’s back were the MLK riots in 1968. Atlantic City had been attracting niggers from the South for decades. They came to work in the service industry; the bonus was that the Whites up north didn’t know niggers like Southerners do. After the defeat of Adolf Hitler’s White revolution and the Jew campaign against Whiteness the niggers lost their fear of the White man, and did their natural bush thing, which is riot, kill, rape and plunder. I don’t know how badly Atlantic City suffered in the King riots but surely the bushmeats [niggers] did bust up the place most splendidly. The human beings were frightened away. The Jews left too.

And so you see the phenomenon that is apparent throughout all of urbanized AmeriKwa: shallow pockets of prosperity, hemmed by a sort of deadline where Whites and niggers don’t mix much. Atlantic City glitters one block deep. Go deeper and you’re in the ghetto, with animal niggers and Whites who act like them. I dared a brief excursion a few blocks in and it was as bad as anywhere I’ve been. I got the feeling that the ‘meats were waiting for the signal. Will you recognize the signal, White man? The well-built old buildings were sinking away; they had that patina of nigger rot. So that’s what basically rules Atlantic City now as it does many, if not most, coastal cities: the brown and black cancer, kept at bay by the Jew media/extortion strategy. It rules the Kwa. In the meantime you may be sure that the kikes have a Rodney King on tape somewhere, ready to deploy at the right time. In the meantime, enjoy what’s left. One day in Atlantic City was enough for me. Maybe the showgirls can draw me back. That’s about it.

Categories
Blacks Feminism Kali Yuga Real men Women

Women & cities

The following essay, “On Cities, Women, and White Survival” by William Ventvogel was published originally in January 3, 2003


Gentlemen, our survival depends on our attitude towards the most damaging set of lies fed to us by America’s Jewish community: the exceptions ploy. These are: “some blacks are okay,” “some homosexuals are okay,” “some career women are okay,” “some Jews are okay,” etc. If you have not learned by now that these are lies, that the presence of these people destroys White identity, we are doomed to fail.

Andrei Kievsky wrote recently that things are falling apart very fast. Yes. Mark the closeness of two milestones in the campaign to destroy Whites: 1) the blonde White woman‐nigger romantic pairing in media, and 2) the establishment of a super GRU murder‐repression agency by FedZOG. The current vogue of the mulatta Halle Berry is prep for White males to get over the color thing. And psycho killers loose in American society are to make us beg for security. The West isn’t doing much about the savages exterminating Whites in Africa and it won’t do much when it starts happening here, either. We’re finished with government. Fuck the government. We’re on our own.

Let’s look at the rest of it. White women are competing with us in the marketplace for money and influence. What sort of women? Those White women whom Jew propaganda has won over, that’s who. They are pro‐ZOG; they are unitarians, although many deny it. The fact is, these women face a bitter end, though most don’t seem to know it, and if they did they would back out. I’ve seen it happen, and they are pathetic at 40 years old, trying to re‐feminize themselves, trying to shuck the traits of competition and hoping a virile man will find them attractive, and perhaps make them mothers.

Taxes fund anti‐white politics—and Jews are superb at creating issues. All women in power today use some degree of government protection. A woman in level competition with men rarely lasts long. All women of influence owe something to the Jew government. Worst of all, most White men take these women seriously and use the Jew political lexicon in their relationship with them. That is, men negotiate with these women. I used to do that. I used to operate by the “some career women are okay” assumption. That’s conditioning; that’s the effect of Jew propaganda. What a mistake! Remember that the next time you see some redhead career cunt pawing a simian at the opera.

Jew corruption and support is concentrated in the cities. Pro‐Jew, unitarian, professional women are concentrated in the cities. The niggerball producers are there; queer power and welfare directorates are there; the corporate capos are there; the breeding and mud hordes and the elite Whites who use them are there. Take any member of these groups for other than what he or she is, and you are losing.

That Sanskrit saying, “From the corruption of women… all evils follow,” is true. But you can undermine the ZOG’s artificial order. Stop taking these women seriously! Women want to be dominated. When I gave up the nice guy crap and dropped the Jew lexicon and started hunting women ’70s style (and before), looking at them first as pussy, it was as if I had quit the Church of Goy Control, and been swept up by the Valhallans. Now I look at women as sources of pleasure and incubators for my children, and that levels everything else. That blows away the ZOG fog. Clarity and focus are mine.

Then I am powerful! If I realize that a certain woman deserves more respect from me, I shall give it. But until I see she is quality, she is my meat. The old “gentleman” and “nice guy” approaches don’t work. They are indicators of defeat and retreat, not civility. Good manners still impress—but not as we expect. There is a new dynamic at work in cities. It is predatory and commercial, cynical and claustrophobic and effete. Cities are no longer tenable for a gentlemanly White man with a touch of honor pulsing in him. Such men wash out. I know. The principal dynamic is, in short, Jewish. White women know something is off with White men. The White men are running away. They can’t handle it. What’s left to White women? That’s why so many White women are hooking up with Jews, niggers and orientals.

I live in the core of a rotting East Coast city. It is architecturally magnificent, the best of 200 years of civilized White men. But these men are all gone, and so is their type. Only the buildings remain of their civilization, in a swamp of nigger predators and parasites (there is plenty of wigger—White nigger—trash, too).

Here in the core, sushi faggots, Jew lawyers and landlords, lesbians and career twats dominate. Rabble makes up the rest of the population. In a city 70 percent nigger you find yourself inevitably in their company. They are everywhere. And, brothers, I was “going along to get along” until a few weeks ago when two niggers pulled a 9mm on me. I got away with my life and wallet, and someone called the cops, but I left before they arrived. I don’t know if they ever showed up and I don’t care. I wouldn’t have called them because I don’t need them. The incident was merely life in a place with Africans roaming at liberty. Niggers feed on Whites. This is the imperative that drives all niggers—the “nice” ones too. They follow the White man to get his standard of living. Or else they live like niggers, i.e., they eat each other and sell their children. A male nigger’s greatest coup is screwing a blonde or redheaded White woman. Any White man who thinks that’s okay is headed for a necktie party. That day is coming.

There is no such thing as an okay nigger. I can’t look at any nigger as I did before. The only “okay” nigger is in Africa, or dead. In the meantime, demographics and economics ensure they’ll continue to feed off us, take us down. That’s the Jew plan for us. I watch every simian now—watch his hands, his eyes. There are too many and I can’t handle it well anymore. Either I kill them or I get out. The Jew problem behind the nigger problem, and the queer problem, and the Ms. MBA‐hole [a feminist who has an advanced university degree and who is a real bitch] problem, is like a leech sucking out the White man’s energy and brains. The ambient stress is always there whether you feel it or not.

The city‐dwelling White man, being strong, ignores or “manages” it in order to survive. No matter, the stress will eventually destroy him, make him do something stupid. In the meantime I imagine with pleasant tones a life without the necessity of casing every nigger male, or every White male who’s friendly. There is too much enemy energy in the cities, too many Jews, too many questionable White women. And a healthy White man wants to clean it out, hunt them down and kill them, kill them all. And if he can’t or won’t, the stress eventually turns him passive—then apathetic—then cowardly—then materialistic. He is caught in the Jew vortex.

The way to handle the effects of cities at this time is to get out. Yes, eventually the Jews and muds will find us no matter where we go. But the cities are finished and there’s nothing to do but let them go down. We can take them back later—if there’s anything left. But a White man cannot keep his integrity in a city. If he thinks he can he is either degenerate or deluded by Jew propaganda. There are no White cities anymore, and the niggers and muds are always sniffing out virgin White territory. The moron Christians and unitarian Whites lick them all over, like a mama dog licks her pups. Only another decade or so will produce World Three urban conglomerations so filthy, dangerous and diseased, so hopelessly repulsive, no healthy White could stand them.

What will getting out of the city do for me? It will let me be White. It will give my kids a chance to know themselves. It will return my energy and mind to me. A low income is a low price to pay for my dignity and soul. If I stay here I will start hunting down and killing niggers and Jews—and I dare say if you stay, so will you. It would be natural to do it, but it isn’t the answer—yet. If I stay, corrupted White women will continue to remind me that the White man has shockingly turned away from himself. If I stay, I will witness more and more White people drifting into self‐destruction. We need a new and dangerous wilderness. The White man is his whitest in such places. No wonder we’re going down—there’s no wilderness left. Let’s step back and let them develop.

Sharpen your knives, White man. Breathe clean and wait for The Day.

Categories
Blacks Civil war Egalitarianism Eschatology Feminism Justice / revenge Rape of the Sabine Women Real men Women

Lycanthropy

or

How will the Castilian Wolf deal
with Little Red Riding Hoods
after the crash

The most paradoxical thing about women is that, while the fairest specimens of Aryan females look indeed like the crown of the evolution, if you empower them the race goes extinct. They’ll simply refuse to reproduce. In fact, all of the present demographic winter looks like a typical women’s shit test writ large:

If you let my whims run amok with runaway feminism your little genes are going extinct. Have a little respect of yourself, you pathetic eunuch. Take heed of how nymphs and nymphets were fair game when the first Romans faced extinction and resorted to the abduction of the Sabine women. After the racial wars in a Mad Max-like world, will you have the balls to abduct me and convert me into your legit wife, with lots and lots of kids you pussycat, or will you let the niggers do the job and turn America into Northern Brazil?

Every time I watch how a drunk Clarke Gable handled Vivien Leigh during that famous scene of Gone with the Wind, carrying her up the large stairs in his arms and telling her, “This is one night you’re not turning me out,” I shake my head imagining the non-lycanthrope gentlemen, the AltRight types. (For the interregnum they’re ok, but during and after the racial wars we’ll need real wolves chasing after Little Reds.)

Gable passed the test. Leigh awakened the next morning with a look of pleasure for having been “raped” and being put, on the marital bed, in her rightful place. But it makes me wonder. Like the ancient Romans seeking wives (after being fed by a she-wolf) in order to found families, will 21st century nationalists pass the test after the rule of law collapses?

An ongoing discussion at Counter-Currents moves me to reproduce the following article, “The Future of White Women: A Speculation” written by William Ventvogel eight years ago. However radical they may appear to conservatives, present-day white nationalists are still trapped in the non-lycanthropic, bourgeoisie box, and unlike Ventvogel very few are willing to think outside the conservative box. Fortunately, the dollar is going to crash in the near future. You better be prepared psychologically to receive our unwelcome bite, turning yourself into Canis lupus with regard to the coming treatment of women, once the interregnum after 1945 is, finally, over.

Ventvogel wrote:





The ugly fact is that throughout history women have been objects of barter. This is rooted in harsh conditions that abated barely two centuries ago. The women of the West—White women— generally had it better and were the first to be elevated above commodity—and by their own men. Their ascent to their positions of market‐competitor and leader today correlates to technological ascent. By “ascent” I mean the increasing productivity‐per‐unit, and decreasing cost, of technology. Technology has nearly erased harsh conditions in most areas of the West and allowed White women to participate in affairs—even dominate. No longer does a White woman need a male guardian. But the industrialized Western states are complex and in debt. They are disintegrating, and nothing can stop this process. What will the situation of White women be as things turn worse?

Technology also grows human populations beyond safe environmental carrying capacity. By any sane analysis, Earth is overpopulated with low‐intelligence, high‐birthrate problem makers—no matter what the egalitarian lens shows. Technology will falter and down with it will go those populations brought out by hyper‐technology of food and energy production. Barbaric conditions will creep back in, and White women will lose their power. They will become commodities again. How White men handle their women then will be as important as how well they neutralize their racial enemies. It will determine the fate of the White race. White men will face two great problems in their women: 1) the competition for White women, and 2) those White women who demand what no longer exists nor can exist. This, exacerbating the struggles of survival, will make the scene ferocious.

The easy times are ending. They might collapse in our lifetimes, because technology is failing and “American” society is becoming too complex to govern. Dark peoples are streaming into the West to escape their deteriorating homelands. They have infiltrated White homelands by the tens of millions and five billion more are behind them. They are here and will remain until that desperate hour of the wolf when, and if, White warrior action coalesces and drives them out. The darks have their own leaders and White egalitarian scoundrels willing to collaborate with them. And they have White technology and weapons. In the coming war of White survival, White men will be defending not only their sustenance but also their women from dark warlords.

Whites have been besieged in Mother Europe before: by Huns, Moors, Mongols and Turks. But the coming war in North America will be different. The White man will be the obstinate holdout, unsure of himself, and the smaller tribe. And his women will be gold. Blonde and red‐headed women of apparently pure White blood will be highly prized: battled for, murdered for, negotiated for, abducted and bought, acquired by tribute, by black, brown, yellow and Jew warlords. The White warrior aristocracy would develop a creed of fanatical protection of its women—much like the Old South—a Castilian intolerance of dissent, ready to eradicate any hint of threat—and this includes the defection of White women.

It is of course intellectually au courant to think that the White race is history’s most rapacious. This is the product of Jew propaganda. The White man has proven himself the most humane. The dark races, too, have invaded, plundered, razed and enslaved. But it was Euro man who abolished these actions, as the objects in official policy, when he could. He developed the technology and shared it; he possessed the means and the innate sensitivity to attempt it. Even before the Renaissance and Enlightenment, and long before the advent of the steam engine, the White man saw the danger of his love of war. And he was easing up on his women—instinctively knowing that their participation in government would be necessary to rein in his instinct for adventure. Thus, White women were living better, and in the promise of a better future, centuries ago—better than the majority of dark women in their own societies today.

Today Whites everywhere are under siege. Decades of unimpeded Jew propaganda and Jew‐engendered laws meant to destroy Whites have created two White psychologies: the survivalist and the ZOGling. The survivalist psychology will eventually resist; the ZOGling is willing to surrender. The survivalist wants to live White, and wants his children to live White. He knows what White is. The ZOGling is the doomed whiteskin who doesn’t care about whiteness; more concerned is he with physical survival in comfort, and is willing to miscegenate and serve ZOG (often the ZOGling is merely dull; or worse, a “Libertarian”). The ZOGling is a whigger, meat for the dark hordes, a condom on the Jew phallus.

The new breed on the way, the Castilian wolf, will apply a sort of triage towards White women. It will be informal, ad hoc, but will seek to separate healthy White women from the tainted. After having killed off his immediate nigger, brown and Jew competitors; after securing a deep territory, the Castilian warrior must cull the pool of White women. He must discover which has had willing sexual contact with non‐White men, especially niggers. Those who have will be killed, expelled, or sold. Convinced, egalitarian, pro‐mixer White women are likely to be STD‐infected, and must be culled. (The prisoner David Lane has written a novel on this.)

It must be remembered that churches and ZOG propaganda have induced White men also to interracial sex. More powerful than these, however, is the White man’s lust. He takes whatever women it pleases him to take; same as it ever was. The White warrior who wishes to keep his honor must invent a system of honesty and judgment, both to control himself and treat White women fairly. As the time of the wolf draws nearer the White man must watch for other degenerative influences. One that is extremely damaging, but seems innocuous, is the inducement to masturbation—and not for any religious reason. This is facilitated by pornography. Masturbation is emasculation. Take a look around. Only masturbation can account for the slouched, neutered, passive character of so many young White men. The following factors are involved:

1. Images of sexualized females in advertising (soft porn)

2. Copulating females in private media (hard porn)

3. Recourse of females into careerism and as a result removal from the mating pool

4. Psychological warfare against White male identity

5. Elevation de jure and de facto of coloreds and Jews over White males in lucrative professions

All of which invert White males: some into homosexuality, others into a “celibacy” sustained by masturbation and the “wife” of pornographic images.

Retention of sperm increases aggressiveness. George Lincoln Rockwell’s famous dictum, “A man who won’t fuck, won’t fight,” is true. We should see also that a White man who accepts sexual release anywhere but into a worthy White woman is ceding territory to Jew and colored males. One incentive for warfare was the capture of desirable women. And so it shall be again. The White man who fails to establish and protect a pool of choice [for] White females from the coming statistical empire of 15‐20 Jew, nigger, Asian and mongrel men for every single White woman, will effectively fail to secure himself. The simple fact will be this: the strongest warriors will get the best women—same as it ever was. The more technology falters, the greater the danger, and the more intense the competition for White women. The Chinese still practice female infanticide. Within 50 years there will be 200 million Chinese men for whom there won’t be Chinese women. Think about that when the lights go out again. The numbers cannot be avoided.

In A.B. Guthrie’s superb novel The Big Sky (1947), Boone Caudill returns home to Kentucky after 20 years as a White savage in the Shining Mountains. Caudill has killed a dozen men, red and White, with a knife, gun and tomahawk. A pretty young girl, a neighbor of his brother, shows interest in him. Her mind and his can never share the same topography, however. Here in Kentucky he feels trapped and doomed, and knows he can live only in a state of anarchy. He arranges an evening tryst, and rapes her. She is talking of moonlight and flowers, and he only wants her body. Consider this excerpt:

He got up afterward and straightened himself, looking down while she lowered her skirt and curled on her side and lay in the grass, her mouth still a little broken from the feeling in her and her shoulders bucking to her catchy breath.

Her voice was small and jerky but it still spoke as if of something sure. “When’ll we be married, Boone?” He had wanted this woman and now he had her and never wanted her again. In him there was only a deadness, the numb deadness of a man sure enough about dead. He sank down in the grass.

“When, Boone?” It was her hand now that hunted for his and cuddled it in the warm palm as if it was hers for good and all.

“I ain’t thought about that.”

We got to be married,” she said, and he thought he heard the quick sound of scare in her tone. “We just got to be married”…

He had to go. His feet straightened and lifted him up. “I got a woman.”

He left her sobbing in the grass. Once he heard her cry after him and took a glance back and saw her sitting and bowed over. It was too bad she took it so hard, but he had to go. Under him his feet quickened…

He had to go. West again. Somewhere west, as in that far‐off time…

He didn’t realize he was running until he saw Blue trotting to keep up.

This will be the general form of the White man in barbaric conditions. Most will not be this crude, of course. Caudill was not very intelligent. But his character indicates the consequences of pariah‐hood and pent‐up rage.

When the ’Kwa [Amerikwa—a negative word used to describe the degenerate, racially destructive, Jewified, niggrified, pussified, and depressing place that America has become] starts disintegrating Whites will scramble to form communities. Regional conditions will vary according to the infrastructure which blacks and browns prefer—that is, urban. The colder the climate, the better. The more trees and mountains, the better. How many niggers have you seen in the mountains? A picture of the nigger’s sexual nature is to be seen in the areas in which he thrives: the cities. The male nigger, having been loosed by Jews to be what he is, runs about like a hyena. To this sort of nigger, who dominates nigger areas, masturbation is what chumps (pussies) do. And fags. A buck nigger seeks release only in penetration—hence the sexual aggressiveness of niggers and their increasing success with White females as White male sexual energy retreats. When the time comes White males must kill all White pussy‐hound niggers and White women who give themselves to them. They must be hunted down and killed with Castilian ruthlessness. In the coming wars, bourgeois values will be a joke. Any White man who fails to purge miscegenating White women from his community allows poison to fester in it.

The Jew knew exactly what he was about when he caused, over decades of careful undermining, pornography to be decriminalized. Until the Jew snuck out of his ghettoes and into White civilized society, pornography and masturbation were anathema. Our White ancestors crushed pornography and counseled against masturbation—though their reasons for doing so were idiotic religious reasons, ours are for sound biological reasons. In the end, masturbation is cheap and weak. Masturbation is White male control.

After the wars of survival, which will be in effect culling processes, medieval conditions will come. White women will again be traded and sold, or married off, to effect political alliances. There will be no avoidance of this, a necessary step in the evolution of White civilization. The areas bordering Jew, nigger, mestizo and Asian dominions will be raided for plunder and White women. White women must be practically ensconced into harem‐like conditions for their security and to secure a breeding pool. The crimes of the future are inevitable.

The solution to the problem of White women in our time is the same solution for the other problems we have under ZOG. The solution is, abandon the system. Accelerate the rot of ZOG and the ’Kwa by withholding energies that maintain it. White women out of control; White women holding power over White men in corporations, military, government and law enforcement; all this is a condition which will disintegrate when the ZOG does. In a Jew‐free society the balance will be restored. The rage is smoldering and there will be retribution against a certain type, or types, of White women at the proper time. There are many Boone Caudills and there will be many more. They have no use for ’Kwa and will take it down. I have heard them—the exiles, simmering for The Day [of the Rope], tell me of being dumped by arrogant White professional girlfriends for nigger toys; of losing promotions by Affirmative Action; of insults and offenses of every stripe and heat. ZOGtwats are part of the System, allied to the ZOG, and they will receive harsh treatment.

The White man has no enemy who can stand up to him if he decides to quit feeding them. When the Jew‐capitalist machine breaks down, he gets his women back. The start is that simple. The conclusion will not be. How he handles it will decide his fate.

Categories
Civil war Ethnic cleansing Justice / revenge

“They should be able to open their windows and not hear salsa music”


The Brigade excerpts, chapter III

by Harold Covington

In Shadow



No ellipsis
added between
unquoted paragraphs:



“It always helps to have allies and exterior sources of aid, true,” agreed Morehouse. “A lot of people across the world want to see the United States go down, and they’ll be willing to help once they observe that our men have the right stuff and we are seriously pinning down American forces which would otherwise be used against their own countries. The Russians in particular won’t have any objection to stepping back up to superpower status while we mangle ZOG from within. Bear in mind that there are certain advantages in fighting from within the belly of the beast. For all the incipient collapse and waste of the past three generations, this is still the richest country on the face of the earth. Everything we need to fight and win is right here; we just have to take it.”

Coyle nodded. “You’re right, Red. It’s all there just waiting for us to stiffen our spines and take it. We need weapons and ammunition? We don’t need gun-runners from outside. There are enough guns left in private hands in this country to get us started, guns we can beg or buy, or just take. The Old Man always said that gun control was never really that important an issue. There was no point in having a right to keep and bear arms if we were never going to use it. How many right wing cranks have we all known down through the years who had a whole rec room full of guns, all gathering dust and rust, not one of them ever used to fire a single shot in anger at the real racial enemy?

“We need safe houses, training and staging areas?” Coyle continued. “The Pacific Northwest is huge; the Feds simply won’t have the manpower to put a soldier behind every Douglas fir tree. The NVA does not fight on the defensive. They do. They don’t hunt us. We hunt them. This is a spiritual problem, not a material one. What we need are men and women with enough balls to pull the triggers and live the life.”

“The size and terrain of our new country is in our favor,” pointed out Morehouse. “A completely self-contained revolt might have small chance of success in some small and overcrowded country like England or Belgium, or some tiny state like Vermont or New Hampshire here, where the occupation forces can monitor pretty much everything and bring their superior forces to bear on any point quickly. This is the problem the Palestinians have always faced. They’re trying to fight in a strip of land the size of a postage stamp, crowded in like sardines with their own people. But here in the Northwest we’ve got room to maneuver.”

“Maneuver exactly how?” asked Hatfield.

“What the Army Council finally decided on is a series of small crews raising as much hell as possible in the cities. For the first year or so, in addition to direct operations against all federal authority and personnel in general, we want the combat crews to concentrate on gofers.”

“On what?” asked Zack, puzzled.

“General Order Number Four,” said Coyle. “GO-4 enforcement actions. Gofers. Get it?”

“Uh, refresh my memory,” said Zack.

“Oh, that’s right, you haven’t yet seen the NVA General Orders. General Order Number Four orders all non-whites and homosexuals to leave the three basic Homeland states and anywhere else we’re operating. Henceforth all non-whites, especially Jews, are considered to be legitimate military targets and are to be destroyed on sight, in theory. In practice, your job will not be to run around slaughtering blacks and Mexicans en masse. Your task is to drive them out, if you see the difference.”

“Oh, they’ll get gone,” said Tommy Coyle grimly.

“It is absolutely vital that we whiten up the Northwest, and fast,” said Morehouse. “Every non-white, every Jew, and every bugger boy is a potential enemy asset, a pair of eyes and ears for the Feds, a potential enemy soldier who by the very nature of who and what they are can only seek to do harm to us and to our people. That’s in addition to all the problems they cause with their usual crime, violence, drugs, and monkey music. Right now the federal government has a vast pool of millions of willing assets, activists, and soldiers, living right here among us. We have to drain that swamp. But what’s more important, the white people of the Northwest need to see a difference, a visible improvement in their lives. Fewer Mexicans especially. They need to no longer hear the babble of Spanish or ching ling ding in the local Safeway. They must no longer be confronted with sullen clerks and attendants in business places who don’t speak English. They have to notice that all of a sudden there are jobs available once again. They should be able to open their windows on a summer evening and not hear jangling salsa music from a boom box or a passing low ride.”

“They have to understand that we are doing with the gun what the American politicians promised for 50 years and never delivered,” concluded Zack. “How do we go about it exactly?”

“Blacks are simple,” said Morehouse with a shrug. “You shoot a few and make it clear to the rest of them that remaining in the Pacific Northwest is hazardous to their health. Let them know the Boss Man is back, as the Old Man said in his nationwide address on October 22nd. You’ll get some who’ll go on television and swagger and beat their chests like King Kong and go booga booga booga about how brave they are, and how no cracker woodchuck racists gonna run dere black asses outa nowhere, all that happy horse shit. You shoot them, too. It won’t take long for the message to sink in.

“Mexicans are a more complex problem,” Morehouse went on. “There’s an economic factor there. Mexicans are here because capitalists employ them. Some of those employers are rich white people who want their pools cleaned, and their lawns trimmed, and their children nannied while they go out every day dressed for success, sure, but mostly it’s the big corporations who have brought in all this mud, everything labor-intensive from flipping burgers to stacking pallets to mass farming in agribusiness.”

“Which is one reason why whites are so poor these days,” pointed out Coyle. “Whites aren’t eligible for affirmative action.”

“The employers are the key” said Morehouse. “To get rid of the beaners we don’t just go around blasting them on the corner, although there needs to be some of that, of course, to get them motivated. We go for the employers, without whom there would never have been any problem to begin with. We need to deprive capitalism of this vast pool of cheap Third World labor they’ve imported into this country and force them to start investing in real human resources again. They’ll try all the usual crap, outsourcing and eventually shutting down their companies and trying to flee the Northwest for Guatemala or someplace rather than employ white people at a living wage. They’ll think we can’t find them and wire something to their car ignitions in New York or St. Louis.

“That’s for the future, though,” Morehouse went on. “Right now, what you guys on the ground need to do is deal locally with direct managers. You just go into a place that employs Mexicans or Chinese or whatever, wearing your ski masks at first, then later you won’t need to because no one will dare to try and stop you. You politely explain to the boss or the manager that come Monday morning there had better not be a single brown face in his establishment, or else there will be all kinds of physical experimentation done upon his carcass. If he tries to pass the buck to the head office or something like that, explain to him that the head office isn’t going to go upside his head with a baseball bat if he doesn’t do what he’s told. Do not burn down or blow up the factory or the business unless it seems really necessary to make your point. Remember, white people need those jobs the illegals will be vacating, and there will be some white employees there whom we don’t need blaming the NVA for losing their jobs. No need to get too heavy about it. We’ve already littered the landscape with enough corpses so they’ll know we’re serious. There’s nothing like killing people to convince others that they’d damned well better listen to what you have to say.”

*   *   *

“It won’t last,” said Hatfield grimly. “What little is left of the Constitution will go right out the window and the iron heel is going to come down hard, and soon. Okay, now, my favorite and most anticipated part of the evening. What about our local lefties and anti-fascist scum?”

Washburn grinned and pulled out a list. “That was easy, thanks to the public library and a stroll through our four or five lefty bookstores and coffee bars in Astoria. These 55 names are just about everybody in our three counties who has ever written an anti-racist letter to the editor, organized some left-wing demonstration or event, run some lefty activism group, or worked for the Hillary Clinton campaign.”

“Surely there’s more than that?” asked Ekstrom. “In Astoria alone there’s some liberal airhead under every rock.”

“I removed overlaps from the other lists,” said Washburn. He pulled out a second paper. “This one is bugger boys and dykes, 112 names. I won’t say that’s all of them, but damned near. And finally,” out came a third list, “119 Jews. May I make a suggestion? We don’t burn these lists. We should find some way to blow them up poster-sized, and then when we’ve popped a couple of Reds or sodomites or hebes, we start posting them around town in the dead of night with the appropriate names crossed off. Psychological warfare.”

“Bet you by the time we’ve killed half a dozen of them, the rest will scatter like quail,” said Ekstrom.

“But first I need to go over the Army Council’s policy on target selection with you,” said Donner. I’m sure Red and Tommy have already mentioned to you that we don’t just want to run around slaughtering everybody with a dark face.

“That said, a lot of your work will still be gofers, GO-4s, General Order Four enforcement. It may look to outsiders like we’re just gunning down non-whites at random, but actually the whole issue of target selection is very complex. The selection of targets will primarily be the duty of the company commander, with the assistance of the XO [Executive Officer] in his intelligence gathering capacity, but anyone can propose an enemy target for the CO’s [company commander] consideration. Every target that we destroy, human or material, needs to have some kind of clear and visible value to the Zionist occupation government. The public needs to be able to see and understand why we shot so and so or blew up or burned down such and such a place.

“The NVA tactical philosophy is that the minute hostilities commence in any operational area, we need to start hitting those targets, not sit there admiring our lists for the neat typing. The NVA must always hit, hit, hit! We must keep the feds off balance, never knowing when and where we will strike next, but knowing it will be damned soon. Right now they’re still trying to maintain business as usual, trying to pretend that we’re just ordinary criminals. They’re doing full CSI workups, forensics, and legal documentation on each incident. We must present them with so many incidents that their ordinary procedures of criminal investigation and apprehension will be stretched to the breaking point and then snap under the strain, thus forcing them to fall back on brute force and institutionalized terrorism. Remember, normal law enforcement in America is already so swamped with ordinary crime, drug-related messes and the thousand-and-one problems that come from massive numbers of Third World people living in a Western society, that in many areas the system can barely function as things are. We need to tip the system over the edge. We have to hit them so hard and often that they can’t keep up, so that all they can do is just follow along behind us and keep on picking up the dead bodies we leave for them.”

“Sounds good to me,” growled Hatfield.

“But still, there are some guidelines. Some very important guidelines,” warned Donner. “First and foremost, no kids!

“If they’re old enough to have a shitty little moustache or visible tits, they’re old enough to do harm to white people and they’re fair game, although personally I’d say play it safe by concentrating on adults. One obvious exception would be blacks or Mexicans in high school that can’t seem to lay off chasing white girls. We need to get the word out: that shit comes to a screeching halt, now!”

“Mmmm, Larry, what about bombs?” asked Hatfield. “I recall that the one thing that probably screwed the pooch for the Provisional IRA more than anything else was their seeming inability to pop the top in Belfast without blowing up some poor mother and baby in a stroller passing by.”

“Yeah, and those dumb Paddies would also do crap like shooting a man down in front of his children, shooting teachers in front of a class full of kiddies, so forth and so on,” said Donner in disgust. “What the hell were they thinking? I admit, one of our big nightmares is that some white child is going to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and get killed by one of our detonations. The white people they accidentally kill will disappear. Any witnesses will be silenced, their families will be bought off, and the media will make those incidents drop off the radar like they did in Iraq. The United States can afford collateral damage, but we can’t.”

“Got it,” said Hatfield.

“Okay, second no-no in target selection,” Donner went on. “Christian ministers, priests, and for the moment, church buildings themselves. This one may change later, depending on how serious a threat the evangelicals and others become to us. Remember, we have to get the silent support of a majority of the white population here at least to the extent that they do not inform or actively collaborate with the occupation.”

“Understood,” said Hatfield.

Donner continued, “Obvious targets like racially mixed couples and faggots. That shit stops! It stops now! No more! If you know where any live, waste them and burn them out, just make sure you don’t kill any cute little mulatto kiddies.”

“They’ll be on the 6 o’clock news crying for their mommy and daddy,” rumbled Ekstrom with a scowl.

“Who else is on the hit parade?” asked Washburn.

“Basically, we hit anyone who is part and parcel of maintaining federal authority in the Northwest. Start with lawyers, judges, and anyone to do with the courts. It is absolutely essential that the enemy court and judicial system come to a grinding halt. From now on courts do not sit, unless it’s behind a Bremer wall, and not for long even then, until we get at them somehow. These courts do not judge us, or anybody else. They are no longer lawful and the government they serve no longer rules in this land. We do. If someone in the community is causing a real problem with drugs or genuinely anti-social behavior, the NVA will deal with them, not the American law and not the American courts. All attorneys are considered officers of the court, and the court is an alien and enemy power occupying our land. All attorneys are therefore legitimate military targets. All judges will immediately resign and leave the Homeland, or die. We thus force the enemy to fall back on military tribunals or simple arbitrary internment.”

“That’s coming anyway,” remarked Hatfield. “Let me hear some more about the goddamned lefty media.”

“Media personnel are much more delicate,” said Donner. “We not only need to neutralize them as enemies, we need to make use of them for our own purposes, no matter how reluctant they may be. We can do this by punishing a few of their more excessive individual personnel, but letting the rest continue to function so long as they provide balance in their coverage. For example, if they have to report federal government press releases and statements, fine. But they also report statements by the NVA, verbatim, and they do it with a straight face and no unseemly comments. They give us the same air time and they refrain from any snide side remarks or manipulation of the news. Oh, and by the way, they don’t use the term ‘terrorists.’ They call us the NVA, or Northwest Volunteers, or white separatists, or even insurgents is fine, but terrorist is the ZOG word for us, and the media will not use it.”

“You mentioned something you called floats?” asked Hatfield.

“Floats are the most dangerous of all NVA operations, because they’re more or less spontaneous and unplanned,” said Donner. “That’s when some of the boys lock and load, pile into a couple of cars, and go out cruising to try and find somebody to shoot. The drawbacks are obvious; there’s a possibility you will run into something you can’t handle or get jammed up in traffic with the cops after you, something like that. But they’re a valuable tactic for the same reason.

“There’s no real hard and fast rule here,” Donner continued. “You guys are going to have a more independent command out here in the great north woods than our urban units, and you’re going to have to play a lot of it by ear. The basic operating principle for now is this: we cannot allow the enemy to maintain any pretense of business as usual, any pretense that they are still the law and we are criminals of some kind. From the moment of the Declaration of Northwest Independence in Coeur d’Alene, from the night the Old Man gave that address to the world on TV, we are the law and we are legitimate. They are the criminals and the interlopers. Be good cops for the Republic and take ‘em out, boys.”

*   *   *

“No, you don’t understand, I’m not proposing to hit the monkoids themselves,” said Hatfield. “Read on.”

“Hmmm….” Donner said, pursing his lips. “Says here that Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Goldman donated their own personal beach house indefinitely to these poor Affikin-Amurkin refugees from racist fascist terror, and Mrs. Irene Goldman tells us she thinks that Oregon needs more diversity in the face of this growing threat from us evil white boys. Do they live around here?”

“Big Victorian mansion up on the hill in Astoria,” said Hatfield. “He’s retired from some New York merchant bank, he’s a wheel in the local Democratic Party and a known ADL asset, and she runs the most upscale art gallery in town. Big contributors to every known Jewish and liberal charity, including hosting our annual Israel Bonds dinner at the Elliot House. Both of them really tight with the local evangelicals who of course fall down and adore them as God’s Chosen People. I can’t think of any opening target that will send our message louder or more clearly. The Goldmans, their kind, and their day are done in the Northwest.” Donner looked up, his lip curled in a sardonic smile, and he raised his hand and quickly drew his finger across his throat in a slashing motion.

“It’s done,” said Hatfield grimly.

“When?” asked Donner.

“Give us another few weeks. I’d kind of like to give the Goldmans a very special Valentine,” said Hatfield with a chuckle.

“Okay, this fits in really well with something else,” said Donner. “Brigade has a strategic objective we need your help with. If you watch the news, I’m sure you’re aware that both First and Second Portland Brigades are both starting to strike on a regular basis. We’ve taken out some blacks and gooks and Mexicans, and the city is already beginning to get noticeably whiter. We’ve also taken down a few Portland cops, mostly of the black and brown persuasion, and we’ve popped the top on a couple targets, mostly Korean stores, the Holocaust memorial, petty shit like that. But the one thing we haven’t been able to do yet is to take out any FBI or Homeland Security. Our friends in the silk suits are getting antsy, and they’ve gone cautious as hell on us. They know they’re being hunted. They’ve fortified the federal building on Southwest Third Street and all the offices and facilities they use. They’ve created a whole huge Green Zone in the Justice Center surrounded with Bremer walls and razor wire and every electronic security device known to man as well as an army of police and federal security guards. It now takes a triple-threat security clearance even to get upstairs. Most of them have sent their families out of the city and in most cases out of the Northwest. They’ve taken over the downtown Holiday Inn for most of their staff, and they take armored shuttle buses to and from work. Those who still live in their own homes now drive bulletproofed cars and vary their routes to and from the office, etc. etc. I guess these assholes did learn something in Iraq. We’ve come close enough to pop a few rounds at them from a distance, but no hits. That’s given them something to think about and made them even more nervous, but we haven’t been able to nail any of them yet. The fact is that in the city, they’re hard to detect and follow. We know who some of them are but not all, and they’ve started to shift their agents around every couple of months so there are a lot of new people we don’t know. What we want to do is flush the FBI or U.S. Marshals out, get some of them out in the open, out here in one of these small towns or on some rural road where they’ll stand out like statues and we can get a clear shot at them.”

“The assassination of two very prominent left-liberal Jews in Astoria sure sounds like a hatecrime to me,” said Hatfield. “The FBI would pretty much have to investigate something like that, would they not? Especially with the Blue State establishment in this county howling like banshees demanding immediate action?”

“I think the FBI would understand that their absence from the scene would be a very bad message to send, politically, especially after they sloughed off your killing of those two lesbo bitches. Their absence from the scene of a second double hit would look very much like they’re scared of us,” agreed Donner. “They are, of course, but they don’t want to be seen to be scared of us. Anyway, when you do get a fix on them, this will probably have to be done as a float. You won’t have the chance to rig a bomb or booby trap, you’ll have to take them on the wing, tail them and nail them as targets of opportunity. Are you going to be able to handle that?”

“I think this will be a good opportunity for Cat-Eyes Lockhart to make his NVA debut,” said Hatfield. “I’ll be his driver and spotter myself.”

“I agree,” said Donner with an enthusiastic nod. Most of our jobs are done like a Mob hit. Get in close, two in the head to make sure they’re dead. Make sure you see the brains, as gross as that sounds. Then beat feet out of there and get rid of the weapon.”

“Shoot and scoot,” said Washburn.

“You’ve got it.” Donner leaned over to them. “Gentlemen, there’s something else I need to mention here, and I suppose this is as good a time as any for it. Now, what we have been talking about this evening sounds very bad and brutal. It is bad and brutal, but let’s be very clear: this is the only way that this society and this foul world we grew up in is ever going to change.

“We live in a system that is specifically designed to prevent change. ZOG has turned this country into one great steel cage to keep us and our children penned like livestock all our lives. America has robbed white people of any hope, any future. They drag our sons away to be slaughtered in Iraq and Iran. They poison our children’s minds and turn our kids into stupid white niggers, grown fat and lazy on fast food and computer games, trashed out on drugs and hip hop, while our daughters present us with mulatto grandchildren.

“The tyranny under which we live may still wear a velvet glove on occasion, but it is unspeakably evil and brutal, and only greater violence and brutality will bring it down. This was their choice. They made it this way, not us. You guys have to understand that in order to win through to freedom, we Northwest Volunteers are going to have to become hard, hard men. The hardest history has ever known, because that hardness of soul is one of the few weapons we can muster against an incredibly powerful enemy who holds all the cards. Compassion and mercy are all very well, but they are luxuries that are possible only in a basically decent world, and that world is not this one. You are embarking on a journey that will become horrible beyond measure, but our fathers and grandfathers sloughed it off onto us. We dare not pass it on to our own children, because we are the last generation that will have a chance to do anything about all of this.”

http://northwestfront.org/

Categories
Francis Parker Yockey Philosophy of history

Imperium excerpts, chapter 3

A book dedicated “To the hero of the Second World War”


The 20th Century Historical Outlook

The Relativity of History





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Just as the Western Culture has the most intensely historic soul, so does it develop men with the greatest historical sense. It is a Culture which has always been conscious of its own history.

The fact that the Culture was continually changing meant that History was continually changing. History is the continuous reinterpretation of the Past. Truth in the religio-philosophical-mathematical sense, meaning timelessly, eternally valid, dissociated from the conditions of Life, does not pertain to History. History that is true is History that is effective in the minds of significant men.

The determining thing in our outlook on History is the Spirit of our Age. Ours is an external, factual, skeptical, historical, Age. It is not moved by great religious or critical feelings. Ours is the first age in Western history in which an absolute submission to facts has triumphed over all other spiritual attitudes. Previous ages in Western history formed their History to fit their souls; we do the same, but our view has no precedent ethical or critical equipment in it. On the contrary—our ethical imperative is derived from our historical outlook and not vice versa.

Categories
Audios Blacks

Listen to uncle Harold!

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aIlN7J1FZIQ]

See also this recent entry