#he was willing to become in order to defeat Britannia | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rosheendubh · 5 years

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This stream of consciousness inspired by HistoriaBrittanorum’s Battle 8, the Battle of Caer Guinnion/the White Fortress. It could be the Fort of the Legions as well, but York’s Latin-Brythonic Name of Eboracum, actually shares a root with the Latin of Ivory (eburone,or something??...Ivory has a sense of Whitish—maybe York’s Walls, repaired by Constantine, appeared white when viewed from a distance??), along with other speculations of meaning (its British/Welsh form of Efrauc mimics the AngloSaxon ‘Eofor’ which means Boar...not related, I don’t think, unless the Boar was the standard of the VI Legion Victorius, stationed in York, but that might have been a bull actually??). The boar belonged to one of Britannia’s other legions, I think. Anyway, Nennius writes that it was this Battle in which Arthur bore the Image of the Virgin on his shield/suspended across his shoulder...like a shield. In Welsh ballad tradition, Arthur’s shield is translated as ‘The Face of the Evening’. This was a common epithet given to the Virgin Mary, But was actually a phrase directly acquired from Venus-Aphrodite, as the planet Venus appearing with the Sun and Moon as the Morning Star and Evening Star. Venus, of course, was the Babylonian-Sumerian Ishtar/Inanna. The Queen of Heaven, literally, and...another epithet of the Virgin Mary. Celestial Brigantia was another appelative for the same goddess, as understood by the Romano-British. A tutelary goddess of what had been the most influential tribe of northern Britain, even after Roman occupation, through the 3rd c AD at least. And dedications to ‘The Virgin’, meaning ‘Virgo/the Constellation’, alluded to her archaic Sumerian origins as the great Creatrix of Life/Death/Learning/Science/Poetry/Music/Agriculture/Law/Civilzation/War/Medicine/Justice/etc...all the aspects embodied historically by Inanna, the Face of the Evening, who becomes Freya-Frigg-Skathi-Nanna-Hella in the Nordic pantheon. Anyway, Arthur, Uthyr in my take, when it’s mentioned by Nennius he bears the Face of the Virgin into battle, ACTUALLY harkens to a pre-Christian concept, molded to Christian tastes, of the Archaic Virgin. IDK if that was Nennius’s intent, or if Geoffrey of Monmouth understood that context when he compiled his epic 300 years later. Maybe he did. After all, it’s Geoffrey who conceived of Morgan le Fey/of the Faery, as the most learned in medicine, math, and astronomy, of her 9 Muse-like Sisters, who resurrect not just the Muses, but 9 Gallic priestesses who resided upon Sena, off the coast of Brittany, known as the Gallicenae. And, Geoffrey liked his Queens. He had no problem writing powerful women into his epic. After all, it’s from Geoffrey Shakespeare drew his inspiration for Cymbeline and King Lear/Cordelia. Anyway, the motifs of the Arthurian codex, resound from (my own speculation) a much earlier, borrowed concept lying somewhere between Inanna, and Athena’s aegis of the Gorgon (Medusa, being an aspect of Athena actually, and Andromeda as well. The name alone of Andromeda, means, in simplistic breakdown, ‘Ruler of Men’. And the symbolism when she’s chained to the rocks before the Sea-monster, Cetus, mirrors Inanna in the Underworld, having passed the 7 Gates of Hell, stripped of her Status, judged and condemned by her Sister, Ereshkigal, to be hung by chains, and tortured into death for her arrogance in daring to conquer the Land of the Dead). I love how unsentimental these first Sumerian myths were before they became softened by later Greek and Roman classical writers. What Anglo-Norman Medieval authors borrowed in the term Virgin, has nothing to do with purity, or a woman with an intact hymen. Virgins slept with men, or women whenever they wanted. The even had children, with or without a male progenitor. The oldest sense of the word ‘Virgin’ was an heroic woman. A woman complete into herself, who took on the traditional tasks of men, and women, w/o the assistance of a man. Or, like a Shield Maid, ALONGSIDE AND EQUAL with a man. Risking death, torture, rape, loss, or whatever else stood in her way (think Lagertha of Vikings), to triumph in the exact same conditions as their male counterparts. Sometimes with more ruthlessness, or more compassion, but human all the same, and judged by her actions before her gender/sex put a label on those actions. A Virgin has no bond with a husband, to whom she was subservient. That’s all the word meant. Thus, Guinevere—The Face of the Evening, the Raven Queen, Ruler of Valentia Beyond the Walls, uniting the Picts and the Northern British houses under the Banner of Old Brigantia, to the aide of a southern prince, a son of Tyrants. Uthyr, bastard son of Vortigern, begotten in an act of humiliation upon Ygerna, the wife of Vortimer, Vortigern’s eldest son, dishonoring Vortimer for his rebellion against his father. In Uther’s veins runs the blood of Irish nobility (Ygerna comes from the tale of Ingren, the daughter of the Leinster King, Crimthann mac Ennais—here, as in Welsh geneolgies—Ingren/Ygerna is the daughter of Amlothi/Hamlet actually, a Danish Sea Raider who sleeps with one of 3 wives of Crimthann— and joins the Irish dynasties of the Deisi and the DalRiada to the British/Picti/Germanic families inhabiting the lands United from the Atlantic to the Irish Sea and North Sea and the Black Sea rim), Roman magistrates, and Waelsung heritage (Sigfrid, Sigmund, and Sinfjatli of Niebelung fame) that have shaped Uthyr as a son of Vortigern, rebelling against his father, and allied with Danish/Swedish/Geatish houses of Northmen, who have their own rivalries against fellow Danes/Swedes/Jutes/Saxons. Geoffrey’s Yder/Idris/Hidernus/Edern/Eurderyn—Eutharios/Eutigern—of the Black Danes, becomes my Uther, allied with Hrothgar/Swerta, an exiled Dane living amongst the Angles of NE Britain (This is based off Hrolf Kraki Saga. The Danish king of Beowulf, Hrothgar/Hroar...Rodger in English , who’s forever a battle-brother of Uther, in later decades. It was said Hrothgar converted to Christianity, and ruled his hall of Heort/sp?? as a Christian King). Uthyr, a quasi-outlaw, exiled bastard residing between Gaul, Scandinavia, and Byzantium in his youth, a mercenary andca Sea Wolf/Sea-Raider finally reuniting with his older brother, the renowned Vortimer/Riothamus/Embreis Wledig, to wrest back their authority to rule from their father, and the Jutish/Saxon houses opposed to the Danes/Geat/Angles. Arthur comes later, as Guinever’s son, either—and both—by Uther and Theoderic the Great. Dynastic imperatives here span the transformation of Western and Northern Europe from Scandinavia to Ostrogothic Italy, and in-between. Guinevere, Uther, and Theoderic, encompass a strategy of this New World of civilizing Romanized Barabarians, amalgamations of Tribal cultures reviving old Roman precepts of rule and law, between Britannia on the Western end of Old Empire, to Ostrogothic Italy, that Theoderic seeks to establish as independent from Constantinople. Lying in their midst, a lion at the heart of Gallia, are the Franks, with Clovis clawing the Merovingian hold to sever Britannia, and Visigothic Spain, from Italy. Willing to ally with Byzantium to do so, in order to distract Theoderic into defending his eastern territories of the Adriatic, Clovis succeeds in driving the last of his Visigoth brethren out of Gaul, and the inception of the Kingdom of the Franks arrives like a tempest. And finds Uther slain with his long-time war-band on the fields of Poitier, in 507, and Arthagenes (a version of a title of Hercules/the Hindu-Hellenic-Persian Verethragna. The name resembles variations of Artogenes/Bear Kin or Bear Prince/Artius/Arthan/and Artogneu...from that hideous inscription, but in my mind, while not ‘King Arthur’, lends enough similarity to said names, I’m comfortable basing his persona, ultimately, off the mythic concept of Arkas/Arcas, the Bear Prince, who circles Polaris, son of the Bear Goddess/Artio-Artemis-Callisto, and the War-Lord/and the Guardian of the stars, Bootes and Draco), his son, or Throderic’s, serving in Theoderic’s forces, in the counter-campaign to win back southern Gaul from Clovis. Incidentally, one of Theoderic’s generals bears the name Ebba, or at times conflated as Eobba (like the Bernician king of the Anglo-Saxon king lists), as well as Ida—the first king of Anglians who defeats ‘Outigern’ (in my take, the son of Arthagenes, by a northern princess, Vivian/Nuvien—Nimue-which is Gaelicized as Bebhionn, and feeds into the renaming of Din Guardi as Bebenburg, after Ida marries the British princess, Beara, according to certain chroniclers of later era. Beara is my Nuvien, a British saint actually, and the name from which Vivian and Nimue derive, and Dutigern, her son, a form of Outecorigas, recorded on Celtic inscription from Dyfed, I think, as a Protector of the Region.) Where Ida accepts Outigern as a son, And so, at Din Guardi/Bamburgh in 547AD, Ida establishes the kingdom of Bernicia. That will, by his grandon’s time, unite under Aella of the Deirans, forming Northumbria. The Star of the North, and its emerging repository of Anglo-Celtic-Roman culture by 600-800AD. This segment involves my revision of Theoderic’s daughter, Amalsuentha (a version of Melisande), actually being rescued from her assassination (she was strangled in a bath, around 534, by her cousin who coveted the throne of the Ostrogoths, which opened up Justinian’s excuse to invade Italy), as more of an comedic abduction by Offa/Yffi of the Deira/East Angles, Ida, and Cethegus, whose my version of the warrior-saint, Cathog/Cathomalos. She becomes my version of Marcia—founder of Mercian law, as Geoffrey attributes Alfred the Great’s codex of law and rule procedure to a Marcia, a great queen of wisdom and courage, who...probably didn’t exist. Anyway, I’ve now expounded to the point of random outline, and the tale which falls between my 2nd Century Artorius Castus Tale (that might go back to 1st Century Cartimandua, Agricola, and Arviragus/Genvissa, as mentioned by Geoffrey), and PreRev Paris with Jefferson and his Scottish lady physician. As an underscore to the Uther/Guinevere tract of Gwen as Queen, and Defender of the North, later Uther’s Wife, and Theoderic’s lover, there’s this scene that comes from the Welsh Mabiniogion, of Culhwch and Olwen. The tale is basically a Welsh version of the Norse myth of Svipdag-Odr, and Menglod. Svips is cursed by his step-mother to only fall in love with a particular woman, who happens to be the daughter of a fearsome giant, and impossible to win. Unless the hero undergoes a series of impossible feats which he overcomes, of course, to finally win his bride, and kill her monster-father. Anyway, there’s this passage Arthur speaks when his cousin, Culhwch arrives at Arthur’s hall, seeking some Band of Bros to help in his quest of Lady Love. Basically, I’m a kow-tow to those ‘rules of hospitality’ we like to romanticize were inherent to tribal societies of Germanic and Teutonic origin, Arthur welcomes his cousin with every promise to provide him with anything he needs on his quest, except [paraphrased from rusty neurons]: “...my sword, my spear, my dagger, my ship, my shield, and...my Wife, Gwenhwyfar.” Every time I come across this line, I think that’s either the coarsest of insults to his wife, and his queen, listed in an intinerary of his weapons. Or, it’s the most oblique of compliments to his wife. As Guinevere is his greatest weapon, even over his other enchanted implements, and won’t be utilized to any other man’s cause than his own. I’d like to add, that would be at her discretion of course. Anyway, it’s this exchange I use between Uther and Theoderic the first time they meet on the eve of Badon 2.0, after Gwen has escaped Frankish forces. And masterminded winning a bunch of heavy cavalry to her cause/Uther’s cause in the civil wars erupting across their island in the late 480s-491/493AD. This coincides with Clovis’s campaign against Soisson and the last Roman count, Syragius’s kingdom, falling to Frankish hands. Somewhere in there, I fanciful-ize Theoderic has come to Northern Gaul in the years of his own campaign to win Italy against Adavacrius (my Erp/Hyrp/Tge AngloSaxon Eadawacer—the son of Gudrun of the Nibelungs-Burgundians, and the widow of Sigfrid of the Walsungs. He’s Odovacer, the Heruli chieftain who deposed the last Roman Emperor, in 476), seeking an alliance with Clovis, a most brilliant and Mschiavellian ruler of Merovingian bent, asking for Clovis’s sister, Audafleda, as his bride (she does eventually marry him—the mother of Amalsuintha). Somewhere in there, we have Gwen being betrayed by her own sister, Cywyllog, whose married to Medrod, Uther’s nephew/cousin, and Gwen trying to reach Uther in Brittany/Aremorica, as he’s fighting for/or against Clovis, depending on when Clovis attempts invading north of Orlean, into the lands of Alani tribesmen, and the British colonizers of Brittany. In an attempt to set the truth before Uther that there’s been a conspiracy weaving lies that she’s tried seducing/promising their lands to Cerdic of the Gewisse/Wessex and his son Cynric, when it’s actually their daughter Gwenog, she’s promised to Cerdic’s son when they’ve come of age, attempting to win an alliance against Medrod/Cywyllog, Medrod’s messengers reach Uther first, and Clovis’s troops intercept Gwen’s small landing party, killing her own guard, and capturing her. Brought before, he disavows her, and rips off her neck-ring, that bore the symbol of Brigantia, and the right of her rule of the North. That Uther truly has no authority to deny her. His action breaks the alliance of Alba from Britannia, and only lends further fuel to Medrod’s attempt at usurpation in Britain. The fracturing of allegiances proves beneficial to Clovis, while he entertains Theoderic’s proposal. Uther, casting off his wife as a traitor, readies to return to Britain, facing the the forces of Medrod, his and allies of varying Irish/Northern British/Teutonic mix (where we see Onale/Aella Bretwalda, and his sons, Cymen-Cissa and Wlencing, arrive enforce, a Nordic king establishing a foothold in Sussex—the tale involving the clash of Swedish-Geatish-Norwegian-Danish-Anglian houses, from the tale of Ohtere and Onela, and the sons of Ohtere, Eanmund and Athislus/Aedgils). Gwen’s leftvin the custody of the Franks, to be disposed of or dealt with after the coming wars. It’s here Theoderic crosses paths with Gwen, his first love from decades before, when they been teens/young adults coming of age in Rome, in the last years leading up to Odovacer’s victory. And Theoderic, never trusting Clovis, devises an entirely different plan than what he’d first come north for, his own war stalled at the Walls of Ravenna, and needing a naval fleet to blockade the harbor that keeps Odovacer afloat, and fending off the final victory of the Ostrogoths. In a borrowing of the legend of St Genevieve of Paris, Clovis sends Gwen on a time wasting errand to Tours, where she’s meant to secure a bread supply fending off famine in Paris, whilst she, of her own design, crosses paths with Clothilde, and arranges a marriage between Christian Frankish princess and the heathen Merovingian conqueror. Theoderic’s 1000 Strong Sarmatian Cavalry who have served him as indentured warriors since his defeat of their city, Singidunum, in 474AD, sweeps in as the entourage returns from Tours to Paris, Theoderic intent on rescuing Gwen back to Itsly, or using her as hostage-ransom to win Uthyr’s naval force of Black Danes. Backstory here is, Gwen and Theo didn’t part well in Rome all those years ago, when he only knew her as some British orphan, and later discovered her heritage as a princess of northern Pictish/Roman British nobility, made an offer of marriage to her at that time just after his father had passed away, leaving Theoderic the heir of the Wandering Kingdom of Ostrogoth Amalungs. He rejection out of loyalty to her father and her people offended him, thinking she spurned him out of pride, thinking herself superior to his barbarian heritage, however Romanized, educated in the court’s of Constantinople. And once more, it’s Gwen who rejects his proposal, but w/o allies in the wilds of Northern Gaul/Frisia, where Theoderic’s forces are camped, she learns of his Cavalry, their decent from the other 2500 Horselords who had been sent into exile by Marcus Aurelius centuries ago. And it’s Gwen, a descendent of those same Sarmatians, the other 5500 Iazyges, sent to Britain by Marcus Aurelius centuries back, on the side of her Pictish mother, whose blood ran back to the Horse Goddess of the Sarmatians when she and her warrior-priestessss first arrived in Britain (see the intriguing grave finds of 2 women buried with weapons and Cavalry armor from Brougham found in 2004–thought to be of Hungarian origin, and dared to mid 3rd c AD), following their men to exile. And it’s Gwen who speaks the old tongue of Saranyu, mounted on a stallion, galloping amongst 1000 Catarphactii, with their Standard aloft in her hand, moving between their ranks, and rallying them in the language of the Iazyges, turning Theoderic’s offer for refuge in exchange for becoming his queen or mistress, and instead, compelling 1000 HorseLords to her cause, tge cause of Britannia, by weight of her lineage, and the promise to no longer “be considered slaves, but citizens” with lands of their own upon British shores if they were, to once more, fight on the Isle of Mists, for her king, and her land (mmm, I always loved that scene of Daenerys suddenly winning the Slave Army of Unsullied...this is my tribute of the Raven Queen to the Dragon Queen. Cliche is as cliche does...but, I’m hoping my version contains some originality). And Theoderic, thinking himself the savior, suddenly becomes the usurped, as his own officers, Vidia, Hjalmar, drawn from the sagas of Thiodrrek, always loyal to him, follow her command to apprehend and restrain him, till she can figure out what to with him. Which, in her Gwen way, involves an intimate scene, and Theideric’s Promise to fightvat her side, in support of Uther. Which is where we arrive with Theoderic and Uther meeting. A very stoic and grieving Uther, whose son, Llacheu, had been slain, the son of his youth, fathered years before with the matron/abbess of the monestary-college where he’d been educated outside of Avillion/Gaul. And who’d sought service in Uther’s court when he’d come to adulthood. Uther, who’d taken his dead son to The isle of St Michael’s Mount, in a confrontation with Medrod’s greater numbers, in a battle he’d thought lost initially, until the 11th Hour arrival of his wife, who he’d cast off in a rage of jealousy and intriguing falsehoods. And by the gods’ justice, he’d been punished by the loss of his closest brothers, Cei amongst them, and Medrod, who he’d always loved, turned against them. Gwen, once the enemy was in retreat, beaten once, but hardly defeated, who searched for her husband in a panicked dread, not finding him amongst the fallen, but following the trail of bodies strewn in his wake all the way to the tidal Chanel looking out to St Michels. And the beacon, the pyre burning there, where dead Llacheu lay, with his father mourning him, who wished to die himself. Haunted by the the ghost of his dreams, his wife and Queen, the mother of his son and daughter, guardian of his vision, takes shape out the shadows of a ruined villa’s garden—where flames dance in the night as Llacheu’s body turns to ash and smoke, and the stars witness with icy diamond beauty, the tragedy of men inviting war and sorrow. She wakes in his arms with the dawn, and he knows this was dream. He sees the neckring in place of the one he’d torn from her throat, bearing the insignia of the Wulkknot, 3 interlaced triangles, just above her collarbone, and Uther knows this as the Sign of Wotan. And the Symbol of the Ostrogoth Amalungs. Her lips are soft upon his, her gray eyes, clear as the sun shimmering across the steel waters with the dawn, entreat him. “You’ve lost a son, but where a brother has fallen, and one turned traitor, you may have gained another. Meet him, Eurdeyrn. And you might find a kindred soul there.” Which finds him striding through their camp, arrayed to allow for a makeshift infirmary, where Gwen will serve later, and the commander’s quarters marked by the standards and banners of the companies of his army. The cheers and relief resounding through the throngs as his officers welcome him in a rush of greetings, condolences, assurances of faith, and endurance, these men who’ve bled and wept with him, to victory and loss. And more, the furious cheer that rises through the assembly grounds, at sight of his Queen at his side. North and South, Alba and Britannia United once more. He pauses. The guards align, stepping aside to allow for Uther to face this Ostrogoth lord, followed by his own comitatus/elite officers—some them who’d committed sedition only 3 days ago, at the pledge of this Queen they all believe a goddess in human form, rather Horse Queen reborn. Gwen has never hestitated to take advantage of old symbolisms, equine goddesses or Ravens some of the most powerful divinties many of these nomads or barbarian tribes, recognize, only a generation or two as converts to Christ, separating them from their pagan forefathers. He’s well-formed, this Maering, a Chieftain who styles himself an enlightened philosopher king. Eyes like marine seas meet Uther’s amber gaze, guarded. Aquiline features of boldness and depth define the high brow, the angular cheeks, fine nose nose, and strong jaw. An assembly not unlike Uther’s own, Theoderic’s grandeur smacks of brilliance, and sun, a lion in his prime, his red-gold hair plaited, the fine stubble of his beard, flecked with gray. Theyre of an age, and similar physique, each just on the other side of four decades, Uther’s image, more somber, the Winter King indeed, tresses of oak brown frosted with white, drawn back, long at his neck, his posture straight, muscled body riddled with scars of old wounds, his joints feeling the damp and cold more so than in younger days. The hard lines of cheek and chin might have been sculpted from harshness through the years, but the lucidity of eyes that carry the cast of autumn leaves struck of rain and setting sun, soul-searching, and somber, so it’s said Uther reads the hearts of men the way migrating birds read the change of season. And he sees Gwen was right. This man has born the burden of his people for over a decade, aimless, as mercenaries. A client-King to Constantinople, consul, and conqueror, fighting other men’s battles so his nation might survive for another season. Guests at the mercy of ally and enemy, subsisting on fortune’s vagaries. Uther knew that life. And he hears that understanding in Theoderic’s tone, words of greeting, without supplication. Uther responds with the same reserve, the words a ritual of recitation. A host welcoming. A guest received. Men will recount later, over beakers of ale, in a commons awash in song, and roasting meat, lit by torches, and hearth fires blazing near the sorted benches, how they met, the Stag and the Stallion, the Lion of the Amalungs and the Wolf of the Waelsungs. Then, Theoderic nearly shatters his composure. “You lost a son here. I too, have lost a brother. These battles we fight to carve some kind of future demand sacrifices we could never have foreseen. But in the struggle, we may find blessings of unknown delight as well.” Theoderic’s attention shifts to Gwen. There’s no coveting or lust, as he might have supposed from a lesser man. Yearning shines from the depths of his heart. And worship. Untarnished and without shame. In the presence of her husband, who’d cast her off in a fit of wrath and grieving doubt. Gwen’s silence, her wary glance that moves between the two men, the tension tightening her mouth, belies her anxiety. She has a tendency to brusqueness when she’s uncomfortable, and clear she’s far from easy with this encounter. She gathers herself, some internal motive rising that bades her salute each man, a crisp nod between them, as she extricates herself from the awkward company. “Medrod’s forces regroup in the North. We have much to do if we’re to drive this momentum to victory. And I have much to catch up on, before we march.” Uther, then Theoderic, neither raise objection, a small bow, an *as your leave*, as they watch her amble off toward the one place which has always been her retreat. Medicine, and the surgery-taking rounds of the wounded before she’ll take on a shift. Determining clearance for the coming transport, and those who’ll be left at the encampment to recover or die. Their respective guards maintain a distance meant to preserve confidences without seeming to neglect their commanders. A strange quiet flows between them. A calm Uther finds an effective tool. Men are apt to let tongues loosen in silence, to cover their nerves, and spill Revelations they otherwise wouldn’t. Theoderic doesn’t appear unsettled/discomfitted. Shrugging easily, and motioning with a look toward the commanders tent, he’s almost conversational. “I imagine you’d welcome a bath, and a meal first, before we get to the grit of how we proceed from here.” How naturally men seem to look to him, seeking direction or simply a pleasantry. That irks Uther, noting as well it’s his own tent toward which they’re headed. “I saw the pendant at her throat, Amalung.” Theoderic slows, hearing the stiff words, halting with Uthyr, to face him once more. Curiosity rather than caution shining in his eyes. “Whatever courtesy of treaty you seek in exchange for your service, I will do all in my power to honor. But this will not include the right of my spear, my sword, my dagger, my flagship, my shield, and most of all my wife. You’ll not have my wife hereafter. These sacred insignias conveying kingship, right to rule. Most of all, his wife. A moment only, of consternation, flickers across Theoderic’s features, calm, seeming to weigh responses. Until he breaks into a chuckle, and a commiserating glimmer directed at Uthyr. “Only it was your wife who had me, rather. Not the other way around. — Shout out to G’Schola’, and his Tower Down the Tracks, at these turnings of the year... And to my concept of Guinevere. It’s hard for me not to see her as something of a queen, and warrior. And of Scottish origin. Like Robert Graves (who took a much more arcane synthesis of Welsh bardic poetry), one of my favorite poems is the Battle of the Trees/CathGoddeu... The part where Gwydion, son of the goddess Don(a), raises the trees and flowers, earth, roots, vines, etc to aid in the kingdom of Gywnedd’s battle against the southern Welsh kingdom of Dyfed, I’m convinced, inspired the Battle of the Ents in LotRs (Graves and Tolkien shared a personal and professional relationship of scholar and ‘belles-lettres’... Ents, and the Welsh poem, both harken back to Irish myth, and the 2nd Battle of MaghTuredh. Where Lugh summons his goddess/sisters-sorceresses, to aid the Danaans against the Fomori, and asks what weapons they’ll bring to their fight. And the sisters reply: "And ye, O Be-cuile and O Dianann," said Lugh to his two witches," what power can ye wield in the battle?" "Not hard to tell," said they. "We will enchant the trees and the stones and the sods of the earth, so that they shall become a host under arms against them, and shall rout them in flight with horror and trembling." That, in tandem with the more ancient Babylonian tale of Ishtar’s Descent to the Underworld, carries such resounding power in the primordial concept of goddess and queen, where Ishtar stands before the Gates of Hell, her sister’s domain, and demands entry to pass. “If you do not open the gate for me to come in, I shall smash the door and shatter the bolt, I shall smash the doorpost and overturn the doors, I shall raise up the dead and they shall eat the living: And the dead shall outnumber the living!” Can you see where GrrMartin drew his inspiration for Daenerys, in the 2nd Season, where she promises destruction of her enemies, and those who’ve harmed her friends (“...I’ll lay waste to enemies, and burn cities to the ground!”). Basically, she’s Inanna/Ishtar at the Gates of the Hell. That’s (part) of my concept of Guinevere—the queen who summons the Houses of the North, and unites them under an old Battle Standard of Brigantia (which is the Cross of St Bridgid...that mimics a tetraskele), marching them south to the aid of Uther outside of the Walls of York. And in the Cavalry charge of the northern host, amid a rising thunder/snow storm (I place this battle circa Nov/December...not usual for campaigns, but that’s part of the desperation here...in post-Roman Britain), where men who are frost-bitten, exhausted, famished, at the edge of defeat on both sides—Jute and British—blood-blurred vision, obscured even more by slashing winds and sleet and mud (hopefully the horses don’t spin out), it’s Uther, or Uther’s more literary-inclined brother/cousin Brochmal (my version of Bedivere/Bedwyr) who quotes the old Irish tale, as Gwen’s forces align on a distant bluff across the Vale, and she raises the Sword of Ares (yep, she’s also the one who pulls ‘the Sword from the Stone’...based on her mother having sacrificed herself years before, drawing the sword of the Sarmatians that attracted a lightening strike at the same moment she plunged the blade into an oak, and promptly induced one of those conductive lightening strike scenarios that passes through a bunch of people and explodes the tree/ground/and people around them...thanks Wilderness Medicine workshop!) as the rallying point of the charge. With Gwen’s trio of Ravens circling about her (they are cool birds—they can live like 25-50 years, are as intelligent and social as dogs/horses/mammals/other smart birds...and there’s a rare white raven variant that occurs), symbols of her ambivalent relationship to Wotan and Christ, as well as being classically educated, and thus, agnostic ultimately, to Gwen, her Ravens have always reminiscent of the Morrigan—the triple goddess of Death, Battle Frenzy, and well...sex/life-rebirth. Amid the building of horse, down into the Vales of York, men’s senses to confused by the icy winds and rain, not always sure if they’re even striking at friend or foe anymore, the Horns blasting different signals sounding like Heimdallr’s Gjallhorn of Ragnarok, imagination, and delusion, or delirium form shapes in men’s minds, out of storm cloud, sleet/hale/, and bloodied earth, mucked by entrails, corpses, and excrement of human and beast. British ally, or British foe, clashing spear and sword with shields, they all swear in the charge of the North, do the phantoms manifest, shadows of past legionaries, and Roman auxiliaries, the ghosts of the first Sarmatian horselords, taking shape from earth and most, fleshless memories of gore, long-dead and fallen, whose blood quenched the thirst earth in defense of the Hallowed Isle, summoned once more, unknowingly, by the vision of mere mortals whose vision of a new Britannia rises from the past, and stretched into a tenous future told in tale of the Stars... Okay, Bunnygrrl obscura done for today...

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republicstandard · 5 years

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This Year In Jerusalem

My Dearest Comrade,

You asked me in your last letter how we did it, how after the long and bitter struggle we finally put paid to the white man. It's an interesting question. How did this once proud and confident people, rulers of the globe, find themselves at the short end of history, evaporating like morning mist? How conquered by an alien ideology? How did rule Britannia become out of bounds? Who lost America? Now that it's all over, and long since really, I feel free to speak my mind to a friend, though it goes without saying there's no reason to save this in any way, there is no reason our children or their posterity should ever know too much about this, not now that we have prevailed. As a keeper of records I am privy to all kinds of information, some of it astonishing, some of it provocative, the lies, the propaganda, for I like to think a Jew is nothing so much as a sophist, proceeding by misdirection. But, in the interest of time, this will be a truncated version. Does one really need to know too much of the ins or the outs of the Marranos, the Masons, or the Illuminati? Arcane banking records? How we put the squeeze on Cromwell, or ran a slave ship? Marriage certificates, baptismal records? No, the genius of what we did was what we did in broad daylight, the goyim is ever gullible. No less a personage than Spengler spent his entire career without writing anything of what the Jews had done or were doing, remarkable. So much for him. So much for them. And remember as you read this, we did what we did out in the open, and that the crucial factor in our ultimate victory was neither our animal cunning nor our indomitable will, but the fact that we were white. How lucky! Had we been blue or purple or red we never would have got away with it. A star would have done nicely to serve them as a reminder, to remind them of the danger in their midst, and the peril that they faced, but we put a stop to that, amen. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this brief foray, this ex post facto meandering. I am a humble man, and we are a humble people, so if this ever sounds like bragging it just means I get carried away from time to time, apologies ahead of time and all around.

As you know we are an ancient people. Thousands of years and all that. We waxed and we waned like them, and like the others tried our best to increase our power, little of it though there was. However, from nearly the first the other peoples always thought us strange, our famous peculiarity, the dietary laws and the way we clung tenaciously to our ancestral God when they were perfectly willing to share theirs with those of any mongrel people they came across, and we would not let ours mingle freely with the others. Yes, they thought us barbaric and odd, repugnant really, but for the Romans at least, so focused on power, beneath the surface there was an uncanny fear, for we we had a principle other than honor that we would lay down our lives for. They knew of honor but ours was truth so-called—the most risible in their eyes. Yet despite their contempt they couldn't help from feeling uneasy, this they thought was something more than an army, this was either insanity or an enemy to keep an eye on. It's probably apocryphal but it's said that when Pompey cast custom aside and thrust himself into the holy of holies he found an empty and white shining space. Every other people would have cluttered theirs with images of gods or animals, but we had pure emptiness, pure shining white emptiness, and it's said he was shaken, though it's doubtful that dullard had the strength of character to be disturbed. And it's telling that later the rumor went around that in the inner sanctum set on a pedestal was a donkey. They said we worshiped an ass! Ha Ha. He who laughs least laughs best, it's what I hold to.

But other people were stronger, first Greece, then the Romans. We finally became a fully subject people and many of us, understandably, chafed at this. And though I thoroughly disapprove of the hotheads among us the one who threw that torch and caused Rome to level the city did us a favor, looking back. It dispersed us and we could do a lot more good (for ourselves, that is) roaming abroad in search of monsters to destroy than sitting by ourselves in our mountain fastness. We've always excelled as the stranger in the land, casting a cold and jaundiced eye on the natives, always ready to lend a hand to the leaders. We are a numerically small people, so to adapt we let others build what one day we will own. That first holocaust (they say not stone was left on stone!) also gave us the great story (fictional of course) of Masada, which, like the Warsaw uprising, would be put to such salutary use. The plucky little Jew, the eternal underdog, the mouse that roars, wedded to eternal principles, dying for an idea, for their jealous god. Who would believe such rot? Them, that's who.

Perhaps it was the memory of ancient defeat that spurred our later attacks; revenge is after all an underrated motive in history.

Some call it the grace of God, I call it a freebie, but either way, for sure, we got an unexpected and serious break in the person of Jesus Of Nazareth. Some vagabond wanders up the mountain and on his own authority deifies himself and the next thing you know an entire civilization is wrecked. By means of his admittedly somewhat poetic ramblings and, even more so, by means of his bulldog, Paul, we injected a poisoned chalice deep in the heart of Europe, a Trojan horse smuggled in like the taking out of the key beneath the keeper's nose. As I'm sure you know later on it would be the fusion of a universalized Protestantism and an aggressively subversive Judaism which would be the stake in the very heart of these people; which, long story short, makes The Book Of Acts the story of another itinerant vagabond proselytizing the virus of subversion. Freud is said to have said, before disembarking in America, that he was bringing them the plague; so did we for Europe with this alien creed. It didn't start out that way, for though no one could have known it at the time it was Christianity, with it's scribbling monks copying for no discernible reason, with it's unifying power, which strengthened the white race for centuries, made them a towering and indomitable world presence, which one day we would ride and vault on and over; until it turned sour like curdled milk and burned the building down. For when the time finally came we managed to fool them into believing that that great hater Jesus Of Nazareth, that man who walked around terrifying people, excoriating people, and viciously slandering public officials, calling the Jewish power structure irredeemably corrupt, shook dust off his shoes, brought a whip for the money-changers, scared the living daylights out of random passersby, said he brought nothing but fire to this mortal earth of ours, that this tremendous hater had no hate in his heart, that all you need is love. You got that: he had no hate in his heart. Fools like Leo Tolstoy served us admirably here, when he wasn't making shoes that fell apart he was telling the world that Jesus Christ would not have hurt a fly. In truth real self hating Jews like Jesus of Nazareth are a dime a dozen, another madman Bobby Fischer comes to mind, and we know what to do with them. Hitler said to shoot Gandhi. We agree. Killing that man was the best thing we ever did. Like I say, a freebie.

For Europeans Christianity was a mixed bag, it gave them Bach and baizuos, but in the end it's the order they came in that mattered. Wokeness is Christianity's hangover, the after-birth of a once proud religion.

Calvinism and Puritanism were already Judaism, some of Cromwell's men were so forward thinking they wanted to create a Zion on the Thames and thought that the notion of the divinity of Jesus Christ was blasphemy.

Later in the 1870s one of ours named Felix Adler would preach that the Jews should universalize themselves out of existence, for the good of humanity. He got select Protestants to go along, the elect now meant those who commit suicide. Arch WASP (and son of a universalist crank) William James said that moral values supersede survival, and his notion of pluralism later formed the foundation of multiculturalism. As can be expected the Jews declined the offer of race suicide but a century later whites took to it with a vengeance. So you can see when we finally did wreck their country we were plowing in a fertile field. You read about those American cranks in the 1850s on their farms growing rutabagas in their long johns and preaching universal ethics and the love of all mankind, they're portrayed as charming but really they were the first growth of our ideology, they did our work avant la lettre, harbingers of collapse. For after all from Unitarianism to dismantling whiteness is but a step. By the grace of a jealous God, as specified.

We're often called a rootless people but this is wrong, we're not at all, certainly not just just because we had no home, we were at home wherever we were, we made ourselves at home. Indeed, we're one of the few people now who really have roots, they are just not tied to a land, a country, or a nation, little Israel notwithstanding. We're tied to us, not to the idea of us, to the reality of us. We know how to stick together, to work together, to network, to remain ethnocentric, ethno-obsessed, to practice nepotism, over centuries, over time and space, though thick and through thin, over vast geographic areas. Everyone knows of our checkered history, the famous one hundred and nine, the expulsions, the migrations, the conversions, the inquisitions, the pogroms so-called, the burning hatreds, the harassment, ejected, but always returning, always returning. We blend in, we creep up on you when you're not aware, we're blatant as can be but seep into the background. We throw fairy dust in your eyes, or we proceed by indirection. And so it went for centuries. We would ingratiate ourselves with kings, be awarded patronage, be prized middlemen, do their dirty work, earn the ire of the populace, be banished, and brought back. Always brought back because they couldn't do without us, we made sure of that, as useful as can be. And slowly we built up secret and fantastic wealth, fantastic networks, webs of subterranean influence, intersecting directorates, interlocking systems, always moving a little closer to the our goal, never stated but always in mind. We'd drop out of sight, become one of them, convert, and be indistinguishable from what we were subverting. They call us foreign, alien, parasite, and that's not far off; but neither is predator, and for them neither is prey. For these many centuries we were outsiders, we infiltrated the elites, we kept to ourselves, the power behind the throne. But that's never enough when the throne beckons. Which of course it always does, particularly among a people seemingly intent on abandoning it. They were strong when faith was in the saddle but they loosened the reins, and money came in, and us not far behind.

I believe it was that Jew Karl Marx who said that in emancipating the Jews the Europeans themselves became Jews, for all practical purposes. They say he hated Jews but he's in the fold, he's one of us; once a Jew always a Jew's what I say.

In the early nineteenth century the idea of humanity began to spread like wildfire through Europe; now that it's all over we can see that this was the death of them all. We Jews were still on the margins at this time; but a word began to circulate, circulate in the name of humanity: emancipation. It was a deceptive word, meaning freedom. Give freedom to the Jews, let them join civil society, base membership in the clan on an idea. Assent to a proposition! A German was one who lived in the German states. What madness comes from the temples of reason! But for us from then on every year was the Current Year, every year was Year Zero. We would never bow before other Gods but their civil society we'd salute, mingle freely in their society was fine. It was to be ours soon enough in any event. Yes, emancipation, it was certainly an idea whose time had come. It would not be the fist time that freedom could easily be construed as to our advantage.

Some Jews themselves were uneasy with it. But some Jews are fools. Their concern was that if we blended in we'd lose our fervor....we would cease to be Jews, as if that could ever happen. No, they needn't worry, we can go underground for however long is needed and we'll arise on the earth no one but ourselves. Once a Jew always a Jew. Atheist, secular, orthodox, reform, international, indifferent, no difference, always a Jew in the end. In the meantime be baptized, go into the professions, make a mark, become distinguished, become a European, become English or Italian, marry up, call yourself white, become civilized, speak the native tongue, German, French, whatever, abandon Yiddish, cut your hair, dress in a suit, put on a top hat, put on a bowler, wear a tie, whatever it takes, rise, rise, rise, make a pot of gold, interpenetrate the ruling classes, crash the directory, become doctors, lawyers, judges, writers, editors, publishers, reporters, you name it we're there, the more we're them the more we remain ourselves. And so we did. The long nineteenth century was a banner one for us, we came into our own, came into our power, we were the chimpanzee who put on a suit and rolled around on roller skates: see, they said, they're just like us, and so we shattered a world.

Europe was always just a staging ground for America. As early as the 1830s Alexis de Tocqueville saw that Russia and the USA would be the twin stars around which the world would one day revolve. And it was from the so-called pogroms (trumped up as they were) in the latter that we got ejected into the former, it's what led to that poem at the base of that statue, it's what made the liberals cry, it's what made a mass of Jews leave for the New World. We were under siege you see, and for no reason at all. And so we headed out for our new hunting grounds.

Tocqueville said in the 1830s that the 20th Century would belong to Russia and America, eighty years later we controlled both.

When the Jews first came to America from Eastern Europe the Jews that were already there, who had come from Germany, who were a well dressed, assimilated and prosperous lot said: this could be trouble for us. And no doubt those new arrivals must have been quite a stinking crew. But we clean up nice, don't we? Once we had undergone out civilizing ordeal.

America with it's ideals, it's openness, it's all men are created equal, it's nation of immigrants, it's huddled masses, it's making the world safe for, it's dedication to a proposition, it's shining city on a hill, it's exceptionalism, it's missionary bent, it's self-made men, it's rugged individualism, was always immensely subject to hijacking by a determined outsider, and by the end we were pushing on an open door. Otto Von Bismarck said that the most important event in world history was when the first Englishman set foot on the American continent and that was true when he said it; but it was soon eclipsed when the first wave of Jews from Eastern Europe began walking around Manhattan. Just look at the record. An ancient people living in miserable hovels on the spine of Europe, speaking a barbaric and snarling Yiddish, going in wave after wave into a young country, one about to become a world power; going to an intellectually backwards people susceptible to high sounding balderdash; it's young people ready to leave behind the nation of villages; a rather simple and moral people prone to pangs of conscience; we would soon make them a raceless people capable of offering no defense. A country created on paper is eternally vulnerable to someone overwriting their script, when you are created by words someone can come along with different ones, or give new meanings to the old. If a nation is just an idea what happens when we change our mind? What happens when we win the war on the battlefield that is your children's minds? By the end it was like walking into a sacred space and finding it empty, abandoned. No, Hitler had it right: in America we finally found our perfect hunting ground. They even let this alien race scrawl graffiti on their venerable temples.

The end of the nineteenth century was a fatal time. After that there was no going back. It's been said that if the Protocols are fake then a mad unknown genius was in the employ of the czar. That is definitely true. Whoever he was he was a seer, a man after out own hearts, by violence and make-believe we rule the world! Spoken like the poet he was.

The two fatally twinned movements, the movements which contradicted each other, complimented each other, completed each other, competed with each other, fed off each other, grew up together, fought each other, if only one could survive in the end, were Zionism and Scientific Racism. That the latter is world famous and the former confined to the sewers of history is no reflection on their relative merits; ideologies are just masks for power, the power of peoples, and these two were no different; a last ditch effort to save, respectively, the Jews and the Europeans; daggers drawn is war to the knife. These two, in the scope of history, appearing at the same time, were the twin stars in the drama to come, fatally entwined; one the dream of a homeland, the other of annihilation, or vice versa, if you will, for by the time it was all over both dreams were the same for those dreaming it, staying alive and decimating the enemy.

It's said that American scientific racism started on a bison range and ended up in Nuremberg. And it's true, it started on those hunts, ran through conservationism, immigration restriction, birth control, sterilization, progressivism, eugenics, and finally got applied in Germany where it's bible ended up in the famous trial as exhibit 151. If it seems a declining trajectory it's only because we've made it so; had someone wanted you to think it was something ascending and been able to they would have; but they weren't, they didn't; the arc of history bends only towards those who bend it; the rest get crushed beneath it. So even the mention of racism coupled with science sends heads spinning, horrifies and scandalizes; but in truth it is rather elementary, if you are a people who loves nature and beauty and purity why wouldn't one want it to remain unblemished, perfect? The word ecology was dreamt up by a fascist, which was no coincidence, the Nazis were obsessed by personal purity, they banned smoking in public places, they eliminated asbestos, assured that no additives and nothing artificial made it's way into food. In word they wanted to rid the world of it's toxins, anything foreign, anything extraneous to the initial plan, and of course to them what was a more bitter toxin than a Jew? What more alien presence? What more corrosive, like an acid bath? What more foreign pestilence? With the end in view it seems clear that from our first northern migration it was set in stone that we and the Europeans were headed toward a climactic, shattering moment, one where everything would hang in the balance, for a while; we are drawn to flourishing like moths are to flame, we circle like vultures over carrion, over killed carcasses. And when we talk about their trying to protect the astonishing success they had, four hundred years of going purely vertical, we get to a man who sensed this, and of whom I speak with nothing but admiration. For the most part, and once the fighters passed away, it was like playing tennis with the nets down; but earlier, some men had spines of steel. Some were willing to put their very souls in the balance. Some were willing to do whatever was necessary to assure the survival of their race, their people, their country, their culture, their dominance and, as such, were worthy foes. The others, our propaganda to the contrary, are the ones with blood on their hands.

Albert Johnston was a hard drinking newspaperman from a small town in Washington State. When he became acquainted with the elite scientific racists of Manhattan he was gratified to learn that his old fashioned racism was cutting edge theory.

When the 1924 Immigration Restriction Bill was passed Madison Grant told a friend that they had finally got rid of the Jews, but he spoke too soon.

In 1931 in Dyerville, California the world's tallest tree was dedicated to Madison Grant, Grant created the science of wildlife management, and he became fascinated by the possibilities of racism after his successful efforts to save animals from extinction by culling the herd.

The scientific racists in America were jealous of their German friends for having a leader who was finally applying their theories.

Nearly the entire American scientific racism establishment was on intimate terms with their Nazi counterparts, Madison Grant knew the Nazis well too but just before his death in 1937 he expressed an ambivalence about this close connection, fearing it could backfire......

There was a de-lousing facility in Poland used for Jews who might immigrate to America, the Nazis later took it over and supposedly used it for other purposes, after the war they said that limiting immigration was fascist because there once was a facility in Poland for Jews.....

The last people who could have saved White America were the WASP scientific racists of the 1920s, Franz Boas feared that there would be wave upon wave of these men with their spines of steel, but it turned out they were the last of a dying breed, and now their names are mud.

Madison Grant liked to brag that the key to political success was organization, and that he could create a group out of thin air and with the right stationary and the right letterhead he could work miracles, though anyone who knew him could have told you that a cold heart never hurts.

As late as the 1930s Franklin Delano Roosevelt could say that America was a Protestant country, and Jews and Catholics were only there on sufferance.

The list of the accomplishments of Madison Grant is a testimony to an industrious age (and takes one's breath away). He founded the Bronx Zoo, helped build the Bronx River Parkway, was a leader in the movements for immigration restriction, birth control, eugenics, sterilization, led the effort to save the Redwoods, was instrumental in creating the California State Park System, Denali National Park, Yosemite National Park, the Everglades, helped save numerous species from extinction including the elephants of Africa, the Koala, the chinchilla, the gorillas of the Congo, the giant tortoises of the Galapagos, the ibex of Spain, the zebras of South Africa, the elephant seals of Mexico, the giant sable antelopes, the nyalas, the white rhinos, the wisents, and many kinds of whales, though with his one true love, that most charismatic of megafauna, the white race, his luck ran out. Now as far as nature goes I'm with the American President who said "if they think I give a flying fuck about nature—they're wrong"—but white people seemed to care a lot about it, and so did Grant, and so did that entire generation of scientific racists. And, of course, along the way he wrote the book that Hitler called his Bible which, I may say, is praise from Caesar. And more than anything else it was the indefatigableness of the man that impresses. The fact is that nearly the entire American ruling class in the 1920s was racist and in favor of eugenics, then after the war, or before it really, when our propaganda about Nazi "excesses" (so-called) started filtering back to America, they flipped to a virulent form of anti-racism--and so the game was lost. It's that simple. But those men in the top hats in Eastern cities at the turn of the century, they were the last ones who could have beat us. And the reason they could have was that they were willing to do anything that it took. And they had the right idea too-—eliminate us. Don't treat with us, don't try to convert us, don't assimilate us, don't keep us down, don't discriminate against us, don't keep us out of the country clubs, don't keep us out of the colleges, don't stop us from marrying your daughters—or, rather, do all that, but don't stop there—yes, eliminate us, for the game of global domination is the game of total control. Truly astonishing the unadulterated hate they had, they wanted to make us universal outcasts, to separate their lives from ours in every way possible, to banish us from the realm. Grant himself in private is bracing—no nonsense about humanity, no treacle about universal anything. And looking back over the records of my forbears they feared that their advent might spell the denial of their dream, but the fear soon dissipated in the fog of their dying gasp, the last gasp of the final cohort. As they strode their way around Manhattan like they owned the place, because they did, they must have been an intimidating lot, and for a while they went from victory to victory, strength to strength. Their later imitators at best would talk of deportation or remigration, as if it were gentleman's tea, but no one wanted to really do anything about it, or put one's soul in the balance. It still surprises me how people don't grasp the fundamental nature of war. Even after you explain it to them they simply don't get it.

Henry Adams said that when he saw his first Issac or his first Jacob walking on Boston Commons, straight from the misery of a Cracow Ghetto, speaking a barbaric and snarling Yiddish, he identified with the Indian, as one who had been ejected from his heritage. He was right. And had he been born Cohen on the Temple mount, he'd have still had it.

I can say without doubt that the raging battle that was waged between Madison Grant and Franz Boas was the hinge upon which world history pivoted and was, if I can say it, the cross upon which the white man continues to hang. If that seems extravagant, pay attention, if I seem to give it overmuch attention, look again. Consult the record. There were others of course, Dewey, Bourne, Kallen, but it was Boas who knew for certain what was at stake, the man keeled over in Manhattan in 1942 while preaching the evils of racism. Lined up behind Grant was the WASP elite, the American Establishment, prominent politicians, the best people on the East Coast, the media, propagandists, magazine editors, magazine writers, amateur scholars, gentleman scholars, folks across the American political spectrum who had rightly and finally woken up to the prospect of race suicide. But along with Boas was the wave of the future, the Jewish intellectual, some early Protestant misfits, some East Village malcontents, New York Cosmopolites, some professors. But he had one crucial advantage over the long term, the discipline of Anthropology was in it's infancy and he was a professor, a professional scholar, he had made some serious inroads in the universities. And just imagine anyone after the war being taken seriously who was not a professor, a certified scholar, a monkey dressed up in a natty suit and tie, or a Bohemian loser talking down the master narratives, another one of our unsung accomplishments, the professionalization of opinion; and Boas would seed these budding hothouses of nonsense, sedition, truckling, and treason with his own kind and they would carry all before them, eventually. And that, in short, would be that.

America was started by words on paper and has never lived it down, it was the death of them all. There is something inherently blank slatist about a country that begins this way, that is conjured out of thin air in some Quaker meeting hall, and when a more powerful and more determined outsider comes in to overwrite the script there is little reservoir of defense. And this is true, we simply overwrote the script, we wrote our graffiti on the walls of their temples, we unrwote them and wrote ourselves in in indelible ink. That it would be so easy was what was so surprising, it was like, well, pushing on an open door. At first though the enemies arrayed against our race seemed quite formidable, quite daunting. Any dispassionate observer looking on in the early 1920s would have been unlikely to predict the eventual outcome, let alone how much of a rout it was in the end, how we in time went from strength to strength and imposed on them our alien ideology. It's true that a most incredibly acute observer might have observed some cracks in their walls, a crumbling of their facades, some Churches going wobbly, some whites in the wilderness preaching the erasure of themselves, but in the main the fight did not seem fair. But in truth, had one been able to see all the wheels spinning, the issue was already decided the other way...the WASP you see was out of breath...he had become the default position....and no one gets too worked up about a default position. That some among them valiantly and harshly stirred for a last ditch defense is to their everlasting credit. Them we can save. But in the end it was as if they used up every last bit of energy their people had and when they were vanquished (on paper, mind you) they were vanquished the only way you can be, for good. In some outdated history books I have lying around it says that in the old days when a battle was won one person from the losing side would rush the victors, immolating himself in the fire of defeat; they were like that, those great men.

Arthur Gobineau was the first European to talk about the races in a coherent way, he came up with the idea of the Aryans, Alexis de Tocqueville, who was at heart a timid soul, once told Gobineau that with his brilliance he would go far, and with his ideology would do much evil.

It didn't help that frequently the ones who flocked to their banner, though possessing truth, how much truth they knew not, more often than not had a little bit of the crank in them, just a shade of the charlatan. It started with Gobineau, went on to Galton, went through Chamberlain, and finally made it's way to that Valhalla in Long Island, Cold Springs Harbor. I always wondered if reputable circumspect American biologists had come to the fold, professional and even keeled men, who had been measured in saying what they knew, and what they didn't, but argued persuasively that genetics held the keys to the coming kingdom, what would have transpired, had they put racism on a respectable basis. Better for them, worse for us, to be sure. But instead they got bogged down in catch phrases, Nordic, cephalic, unit characters, family traits, which contained kernels of truth, more than kernels actually, but unprovable at the time, and that easily could be portrayed as bogus and which tended to obscure the eternal truth they possessed. They focused on stories about Revolutionary War heroes bedding whores and breeding dullards, they interviewed old timers and took what they said about ancient hair lips as stellar incontrovertible evidence. And so they were like people who possessed gold but muddled the selling of it, and when the gold became obvious generations later our propaganda machine had been so effective, had prevailed so thoroughly, that in Britain the Indian offspring of millennia of high caste genetics could screech in the pages of the Guardian that: race does not exist! Had they put all their money into IQ tests, and rode that horse hard, they likely would have prevailed, I mean you scratch a negro and you get what you scratch right? It wouldn't have taken much to get people to accept that your average African was not going to put on short pants and take us to the moon. But cranks is cranks and if there's anything America perfected it was cranking out cranks, unless it's doing away with itself.

If you got Madison Grant on the subject of cephalic indexes you had a happy man but Franz Boas ridiculed the notion that a cephalic index (the size of the brain) was related to IQ, and as it wasn't provable then his ridicule won out, when years later magnetic resonance testing proved the racists right it made no difference, so completely had Boas prevailed.

Among the genteel scholars Mr. Grants stands out. No petering out for him, he knew that with an indomitable will, and a vicious hatred for the alien races, victory could be his, and it was, for a while. When I look back on his career the thing I think most is that at one point in the early 1930s he began to warn of the Southern Border and the Mexican Menace, and said to close the border now, and everyone looked at him like he had three eyes. What a visionary! What an implacable will! What industry! The question is always was the decline and burial of the WASP murder or suicide and of course it was both, it was assisted suicide, it was euthanasia, but if the patient had seen clearly what was happening and got up off the table in time the doctor would have been eliminated. Well, our Mr. Grants sounded the toscin, raised the alarm bell in the night, his conscience is clear. There is absolutely no blood on his hands.

It truly is amazing that just as we were coming into our power a small committed minority of them were as well. They advocated forced sterilization (in fact three generations of imbeciles is three too many), protected the environment, advocated both positive and negative eugenics, came out against smoking, against drinking, saved species, saved trees, went in for birth control, preached the Great War as the White Civil War, warned of the rising tide of color, identified the Jews as collectively a mortal threat to the white race, saw that Jews acted corporately, moved to restrict all non-Nordic immigration, spoke of race suicide, in a word—seers. But for the final showdown not enough of them could keep up their head of steam. They should have knocked us out while we were relatively weak. They could have done it easily. Instead they let us slip through their fingers. And the thing about a Jew is if you give us two chances we'll never need a third.

I assume Franz Boas was a sincere man, meaning he was an idiot. But of all the Jews he was truly the Jewiest, that is, he did us an incalculable service, he put paid to the America Of The Villages. There is really no one close. Against every ounce of common sense that most people had he argued that the concept of race, which had been so universally accepted for millennia that most never even thought about it, had no existence whatsoever. No existence and yet they are all equal! It would be some time before this absurdity would be amplified to it's logical absurdity by saying not only don't they exist and are all equal but that some are more equal than the others, more equal than whites that is, but an immortal race has nothing but time. And, moreover, he argued, that race had no impact whatsoever on anyone's capacities or characteristics or proclivities or tendencies, or brains for that matter, eons of evolution and man had somehow-—broken free! Everyone was a tabula rasa. Indeed, looking back on it those environmental anthropologists resemble nothing so much as the creationists that at the time they deemed the most absolute know-nothings. You see, for them, a person's personality and capabilities sprung ex nihilo from the social world, environment was all, take the most benighted Australian Negroid and put him Berlin at just the proper moment, and he'll be composing sonatas, just like that, as if sonatas weren't bred in the bone. And Boas took this cock-eyed idea, that there were no races or that there was only one race, the human race, and he beat them down. And you see the thing about it is, if environment is everything, and there is no human nature, if man is infinitely plastic, totally malleable, if you think about it, there can be no limit to our tyranny.

When it came to Americans at large and the nature-nurture question there was always something latent boding well for our side, Lincoln in the log cabin and all that ridiculousness, every man a king, the optimism of a people always starting over, always lighting out for the territory, wiping the slate clean, picking up stakes, assuming new identities, as it were, so they were particularly stupid when it came to the big picture. And of course the depression we engineered (banking minutiae) played into our hands, normally when things get scarce people turn on each other, but such was the brilliant homogeneity of the American people at that time that hard times actually drew them closer, in deep sympathy one with the other, and no one was wanting to hear about a master race, a hard doctrine, I'll admit. In fact, since 1933, really, we ran the show.

So Grant and Boas had their little duel. It played out in University Anthropology Departments, in access to government grants, in magazines, in newspapers, on boards, in meetings, in letters, in government institutions. Each of the two would review a book of the other, or have their proxies or surrogates do it, they vied for votes on committees, each circling the other warily, knowing that the other was too respected in certain quarters for an all out assault. Relative to the other they generally kept their mouths shut in public, though in private one was the worst thing of all—a Jew, an alien—and the other was the worst thing of all—a non-scientist, a charlatan. What particularly galled Grant and his circle was that Boas was turning Anthropology into a study of the marriage and sexual habits of savages, they'd travel thousands of miles to see the ritual aspects of some defunct tribe—why study a beaten people? Why romanticize an extinguished race? Prior to that Anthropology was always the study of race and now it was the study of what?—pottery shards? What galled Boas and his henchmen and henchwomen was the smugness of them all and that they weren't practicing--wait for it--science!

And to give you an idea of how the wind blew over time Grant's protege Lothrop Stoddard was a widely respected writer in the 1920s and could speak comfortably against Jews in popular magazines, the everyday Jew hate of the average man in the street, the small change of life, really; but by the mid 1930s he confided in friends that the subject had become delicate and he found himself watching his tongue on the matter. In his lectures at the Army War College he dropped the subject of Jews altogether and after Hitler's racial ideology was beaten he would die socially discredited and in obscurity in 1950. This is how this country remembers it's prophets and great men. And Linbergh, whose prestige was unparalleled, found himself at the short end of our wrath and paying the price for his untoward and ill-timed words about us. In private letters Anne Morrow said that even though she agreed with him she wished her husband hadn't said those things about the Jews, that nothing was worse than the prospect of pogroms on Jews in America, nothing was worse than anti-Jewish violence, that even war was better than that, even losing one's country was better than that. Better to die, apparently, than to hate! Better to die than to live! Lindbergh! This was a man who to wake himself up on his way to Paris dipped his craft into the troughs of the waves to have the water splash his face. But we are fiercer than any ocean.

It didn't help them that we (we being the Jewish media arm) glossed over the much worse things the Soviets were doing and pointed to the little upsets of Germany. In the 1930s the Soviet Union had murdered murdered millions of people and for these pains the Roosevelt's administration recognized their government, and spoke warmly of them. Hitler knocked off a few of his own followers and broke some windows and in the American media (see Jews, above) they were a byword for pure evil. We could point to the interlocking directorate between Nazis and the Americans, normal business of a people who wish to survive, and they fell all over themselves with a sickening remorse. And then there were those those trodden on little Jews, that ship that got turned back! We could say: you don't want to be like Nazis, do you? Do you?

How Boas did it was by working through the very institutions that not too many years prior would have barred us outright (when they still possessed sense). We really did, you see, overwrite the script. While the young discipline of Anthropology was still growing and the opposition was allied with the government and putting out periodicals Boas was seeding with his acolytes the vanguard of the future—the universities. While they had great stationary and sterling names on the letterhead and were taking Rockefeller money Boas had students and soon heads of departments all over the country—and they were teaching the next ones, to control the future control the minds of children, for the minds of children are eternal and universal battlefields. And it must be said the race scientists, though they had eternal truth on their side, were preaching a hard dogma, we an inviting one. As a poet who was no fan of our race said truly: human kind can bear very little reality. And nothing was more inviting than equality, universal brotherhood, egalitarianism, a fair chance for everyone, all men are after all created equal. It says so right there on the dotted line. Would Thomas Jefferson lie?

Of course we had more work to do but in truth the deal was done. It amuses me to no end to read the books of the early 21st century and see how they describe "race science", admittedly a forbidding name, as discredited. Most of those scholars are Jewish, of course, and take their cues from one ours, a true hack but serviceable for sure, Gould, but even the ones that are not are obedient to the general plan, knowing all too well how bread gets buttered. But how such "scholars" can be so ignorant of the epochal work going on even then in genetics, and now even more so, is beyond me. Or perhaps they knew but wanted to keep it under wraps, with humans the race between stupidity and duplicity is always a close run thing. Either way, they kept repeating the bromides. It's been discredited! Everyone knows it! You're not a Nazi, are you? But they served their purpose in the last push of the great awakening. They are gone now, of course; being of no use.

On the eve of the Second World War the race scientists were all dead or were outcasts, or soon to be. Men in top hats were already dinosaurs. Their name was mud, we dragged them through it. Boas as mentioned died during the war keeling over in Manhattan inveighing against them. But his pupils lived on, his ideas lived on. And were about to make a killer entrance into the annals of history.

In the 1920s men who held the views of a later time's Dissident Right were deeply respected, socialized with Presidents, sat on boards, referred to FDR in letters as "Dear Frank", thirty years later men with the same views were nearly universally looked on as moral monsters.

The question remains, how did it happen? Into the early 20th century the American people were a materialistic people but a stern and a forbidding one. We think of Rockefeller handing out thin dimes to street urchins. But if there is one thing true about immigration it's that every people you mix in effects the blend, changes the people in ways subtle and unsubtle, and there is no doubt that by the 1920s the Americans, with their novel and at times exotic mix of ethnics, were fast becoming a sensual people, a ravenous people, a lazy people, the tone got lowered, as is said. And with the Depression they became a frightened people, and when a sensual people becomes a frightened people they do not go looking for bad ideological news, it's only hope and optimism that they can bear. So the flinty Yankee gave way to the little dark eyed brunette—and all soon being swept up in the rancid patriotism of the war so that the nation of villages was left behind, left behind once and for all, without really too much of a look back.

Now to the annals of history such as they are, such as they were, for we Jews are nothing if not sophists, we proceed by misdirection.

Germany was the end of the line for the universalizing mission of Rome, they got ambushed in a forest and had to give up, had to turn back, wept over their legions, but we had better luck. For it's true that until the end of time (last week) the German people had always been the bone caught in the throat of anyone who would rule the world. For any universalizing mission it's always Germany that must perish.

Hitler was always the horse we always wanted to ride, no sooner was he dead than we symbolically dug up his corpse and have ever since continually paraded it around the public square so when anyone gets out of line we can point to it and say don't forget, Hitler....

I'm not saying he wasn't our implacable foe, he was, or that he was a pilgrim, he wasn't, or that he didn't cross and re-cross a line or two, or engage in excesses, he did, that much is obvious, but just that unlike the reports of his death the reports of his crimes, such as they were, were greatly exaggerated. Did he have blood on his hands? Hardly. For is it a crime to want a country of your own? Is it a crime to want your people to survive? Is it a crime to want to secure one's future for oneself and one's posterity? It would seem to me the real crime is the opposite, a crime unprecedented, to deliver your people to being replaced by another. No, we fought Hitler with all our might and main, and then turned him into the ideological gift that keeps on giving not because he was a criminal, he wasn't. We did it because he was in our way. It still surprises me how slowly some are to grasp the laws of war, the laws of biology, and the laws of demographic conflict, and how shocked they are to hear them.

Nazism was an experiment in applied eugenics. It was putting the broad, solid, eternal laws and principles of biology to use for social and political life, in the service of the people.

Written in 1925 The Great Gatsby is the only book published prior to 1945 that contains both the words "holocaust" and "swastika", my staff assures me of this, they've done the cross-checking of this seeming anomaly. Fitzgerald complained to Ed Wilson that the southern Italians were practically Negro (there goes the neighborhood!), and that American naturalization should be limited strictly to English and Swedes. In Gatsby Nick enters Manhattan in a car and sees, he says, two black bucks being chauffeured by a white man and notes, accurately, that one never knows what one will see when one enters Manhattan. And of course there is Wolfsheim, the predator, the Jew to out Jew all Jews. And of course he was published by Scribners, the same firm that published Grant and Stoddard, the latter being famously being referenced in the novel, unless it was that other guy the allusion was about, the one who wrote about the hair lips and the morons, even my excellent staff can't yet say for sure, so we'll put a pin in it, for now. Thus it's not a leap to put two and two together, that this great American novel is not in anyway about something as banal as the fragility of the American Dream, as untold numbers of English teachers, obedient to the general plan, have said, but rather how the clean green breast of the New World was destroyed and desecrated by Jews, Blacks, and assorted mongrels, causing decent folk to retreat to the German Midwest. That's the theory, a least, but one I hold with. They got to beat us down.

The Passing Of The Great Race was exhibit 151 at the Nuremberg Trials. It started on a bison hunt.......

The USA entered the First World War only after Britain promised a homeland in Palestine to the Jews and the Jews gave the signal to Wilson that it was safe to make the world safe for democracy, that is, safe for Jews. Hitler remembered this perfidy of Albion perfectly well, having cause to.......

After the war we concocted the allegation that Hitler was supposed to have said near the end that he never loved Germany, by then we had a cross between a stranglehold and a death grip on world media so the famous last words slipped into the realm of history, people only know what they read in the papers, our papers......

The message to the Germans was: neither should you, you shouldn't love Germany either. Had we wanted them to believe something else they would have.

If someone was in in the mood they might have thought that equally on trial those months in Nuremberg was the scientific racism of the Americans in the 1920s, that the so-called liberators were the real Nazis; in this way we had our view to the future. We brought in the American sterilization laws, the three generations of imbeciles is enough, the various eugenics movements, the close connection between German and American racists, and so we planted seeds that would bloom in a million flowers in the glorious anti-racist future. We got them thinking: were the liberators really all that different from the ones they conquered? Indian Genocide? Slavery? Jim Crow? The Klan? The color line? Weren't they just part and parcel of the same authoritarian system, all far down on the F Scale? White man Nazi, that was the lesson and message, one the white man learned all too well in coming years, being an eager and obedient student, an apt pupil—white man Nazi. Patton is said to have said that the trials weren't cricket--that they offended his Saxon sense of fair play—indeed they must have! What a world of difference between Saxon fair play and eternal Jewish victory. As for Patton himself he is said to have said some bad things about some little Jews, and it must have been quite a shock for such as him to discover that he and his men had been used as a blunt instrument in the furtherance of an international criminal conspiracy. Imagine his chagrin! But we all need to wake up sometime, smelling the coffee is good for the soul. And had he lived he would have been a minor irritant, at most, his prestige was enormous, but we had laid the groundwork with how he treated the men, that slap was truly unfortunate, boo hoo hoo, etc. Even he would have seen that there are some things you just can't say about us, at least not with impunity. But he didn't live, you'll recall.

When one starts thinking one starts thinking about Adolf Hitler.

Hitler! Now there was a man! One after our own hearts, who saw things as we did, eye to eye, a brother under the skin. To have utterly defeated such a worthy foe makes the victory all the sweeter. Had he never existed it certainly would have been necessary for us to have invented him. Yeoman's work for sure he did us, he's the gift that keeps on giving. I had one of my students who was looking through the archives wonder if the H Logo for the long defunct History channel stood for Hitler and, clever as I am, I said no, it stands for Holocaust. When I think of Hitler (which is the beginning of wisdom) I think of the question: could it have been different? For certainly Hitler was their very last stand, the last thing that could have possibly withstood us, compared to him even Grant and the rest were bush league, for we could not make peace with that, we could not possibly let the white man have a country to call his own. And they couldn't have a country to call their own with us. It's as simple as that. The old us/them binary, who/whom and Jew/Gentile, the selfish gene is an amoral monster pursuing a blind and relentless will to power. Could it have gone different? If perhaps he had had the later concept of whiteness and brought the whole flock into the fold he could have prevailed, perhaps; and had he, prevailed that is, there would be statues of him in every city in Europe. But now, alas, his name is a byword for absolute evil.

It was always the German people who got in the way of every international dream, and we were not going to make Rome's mistake and get bogged down in some godforsaken German forest, where they say Freedom was born (though it was stillborn), that we could not allow. Anyway it was never by arms but always by make-believe that we rule this world, an uncanny something that is more than any army. How many divisions do we have? How many have you?

Germany must perish! A rallying cry, no doubt. When I think of how history was falsified on the spot, at the time, how little the American people were allowed to know. Hitler wants an alliance with the white world, I can't hear you, Hitler wants peace with Britain, scrambled in the telling. We bamboozled them, really. Only let filter out what was consonant with the general plan. But we knew, and our surrogates in government knew, and that was all that mattered. Hitler had to be stopped. Germany needed to be pastoralized, pacified, they were our ancient enemy of only a century or so. And, really, it's fascinating that we even had the chance, that we could stand up on our hind legs and say: we're Americans! American as you, or more American, really, we believe all are equal, and we have our right to our opinions. And in our opinion the Nazis represent the apex of evil and American boys (our boys!) should drive them from the face of the earth, they should be used crudely as a blunt instrument in furtherance of our international criminal conspiracy.....

In the 1920s there were three components to the Democrat party: rural Southerners, Northern Ethnics, and Jews. When we all hit the jackpot in 1933 the first two clamored for jobs and patronage, lined up dutifully at the trough, but not us, instead we became very interested in foreign policy, for as a people we always keep our eye on the main chance.......

And the timing was something, how we made our nearly vertical and sudden ascent up the back of America, letting it launch us into the stars, how we came from miserable Cracow ghettos speaking a snarling Yiddish, and nearly found ourselves, just like that mind you, atop the world of this brand new colossus—and no sooner had we than---came a man who could stop it. It really was a pretty brilliant pas de deux, it was because we were we and you were you! When you think about it he was the only one who saw clearly what was happening and was willing to put his soul in the balance, if that was even necessary, to redress it. Worthy adversary! Implacable foe! Many can talk but who can kill? Who is willing to take the existence of his people in his hands and kill for it? Animals in the wild have no compunction. He saw that with our infinite network we were circling the globe, that finance was becoming a god, the rabble as bankers, that markets would soon suck in everything that was not firmly rooted, and even that would be a close run thing, we'd jar that loose too in the end; that we had the rising power of the West, even if we would ultimately lose that of the East, we had this stupid rising power, this Goliath in short pants, wrapped around our gold ringed fingers, in our deep pockets. And we would stand atop it. And with this wind at our backs, after centuries of scheming and manipulation from mere pockets of power, what could we not accomplish? Everything, that's what. The whole world would be at our feet. And he saw with crystal clarity that it must be stopped, now not later, there was no time after the present. He saw that what was needed was more than autarky in one country but, at the least, autarky in one continent. There came a movement in the teens of this century of those claiming that the European Union was nothing but Nazism writ large, a direct lineage and genetic descendant, but they mistook means and ends, two men may get in an identical hand basket but only one will be going to hell. And for our incipient EU (one world is enough for all of us......), our game of global domination, Hitler knew that Germany needed to assert a rival reign to supplant it, to combat it, if not defeat it, this was really the stuff of high drama, the true story of that war, the crucial one, it would make great reading were anyone alive to tell it. Instead we got syrupy pablum, stories of Democracy and Tyranny, and pious speeches at Normandy, and old battle-axes and womanly men preaching and screeching about the liberal order even as it crumbled at their traitorous feet. For the propaganda surrounding the Second World War, then as well as now, was that it was a war against totalitarian dictatorship and for freedom, but really it was that a sharp eyed Germanic people saw clearly the net that was being thrown over the world by us and tried to elude it, but missed. The rest of it is just catnip for the masses. Of course we covered that up in Old Glory, our new calling card, and the UN, and world peace, and boo hoo hoo about the Jew and his six million, and anti-communism when it came to that and, well, you know the rest. No, Hitler is a man we can respect, and not even begrudgingly, a man after our own hearts, a man who fought for his people, as we fought for ours. It would make no more sense for us to bear him any personal ill will than to be upset by animals killing in the wild. For surely at this late date it is a truth universally recognized that a people who are unwilling to defend themselves deserve to perish. He was never that, God bless him.

When I think of him now I think of him as a man with tremendous courage, who educated himself to the truth, the truth of what we were doing, and said it plain. Of course it was easy to brand him as a lunatic, as a clown, the ludicrous dictator, because who could believe we were doing such a thing, or who could admit to it, it seemed so warped, even as we were doing it right out in the open. No, by that time we had trained them well to hate Jew hate above all and even the smallest hint of it was in bad odor among their elites, it's why the Lindbergh wife dreaded it, better they perish than hate. I can tell you, comrade, as one who has savored it, there is no more perfect crime than getting away with it and calling all who object criminals and insane ones at that, it really is looping the loop, getting your victims to defend you, a species of madness some used to call the Amy Biehl syndrome, named after a seditious white women who went to help the blacks in South Africa, and paid the predictable price (help the coal, pay the toll, as was once said). Ms. Biehl's parents later traveled to the rainbow nation and forgave the ones who hit their daughter in the head with a rock (one liberal, one grave). As for us cranking up the propaganda machinery to enforce a general obedience to the general plan, and a Talmudic taboo against deviating from it, take Hitler's book. If you believe what we say about it his style was poor, shoddy, and disjointed, pedestrian at best, his thoughts confused, but of course few read it, though it's sold freely on the open market. But when one reads him with an open mind one finds him to be perfectly lucid, workmanlike perhaps, with the faults of the self-educated, but a fine serviceable workingman's style nonetheless. And, needless to say, a penetrating analysis. But we've attached the stigma to him, that he was some unlettered bumpkin, an unreconstructed racist rube rallying the racist rubes, an atavistic reversion, some self made monster, when in fact he was nothing of the kind. He was a man who looked at things slowly and deeply, scratched his head, stared at them, stared at them again, studied them, took deep breaths, went back over and over them until it was all finally clear in his mind, and so over long periods of time worked things out for himself. But if you only read the papers, our papers, you'd never know the truth. Indeed, his book shows that he did have a great struggle, had a great overcoming, to see though everything, and elucidate it perfectly, and then get cast as a joke, a criminal. It's ironic that his last inheritors and imitators would label the intermediary world that we cast over the old one, that we overwrote the script with as "clown world", which is getting close to the bone. But of course to the honest observer he was anything but a clown, though one of ours pictured him as the clownish dictator. It's true, he had no pedigree, no lineage, came from common stock, but then Lincoln was born in a cabin, and his high sounding phrases were stultifying and stupid--—dedicated to a proposition indeed, any nation not dedicated to it's own survival will be gone soon enough. When he arrived on the scene we knew we had to handle him with special care, to go all in on defaming him, on anathematizing him, on placing him well beyond the pale, off the reservation, others wrote him off but we never did. When the reprisals started we knew that this was to be a war to the knife, we knew that he and we were fatally entwined, knew that this was the final showdown, winner take all, and everything would be swept before it. For instance how much of the ultimate reaction against scientific racism came from it's association with Hitler? See, we said, this is what it means, see? This is what it comes to. Few had the stomach for it when you put it that way. Indeed, in the annals of subversion the 1930s are an underrated time, textbooks were changing, history was being re-written, public officials were being re-educated, mouths were being closed, people were being shut up, a chill went over the land vis-a-vis the Jews, what one could say about us was being curtailed, the story line was subtly changing, and all from our perspective, all at our behest. If anyone objected we said: Hitler? That's not what you are is it? And so quickly, before he even did a thing, we ratcheted up our propaganda to warp and wailing speed, and he became the world historical monster of our own making. I tell you had he never existed it would have been necessary for us to invent him, which we did after all. Which we did.

Seen from a certain angle it's easy to see Hitler as barbaric, certainly his racial ideology has gone out of fashion, at least when it's articulated, we live it of course as a matter of course as do you my dear friend. But the ideology's passing was only because in the years following the war civilization had reached a kind of plateau, one from which it was really impossible to see the past, the war had been a cataclysm no one wanted to peer back over except to be rid of it. When the state of war returned, or at least an intimation of it, things looked somewhat different. What no one could think at the time was that he was doing what was necessary, he was acting in the extremity of the future, his future, his people's future, seeing the cold hand of total defeat that his people were being subtly dealt; but then such is the general fate of visionaries, we forget too easily that the canary in the coalmine as often as not comes up dead.

There's a scene in The Stranger (1946) when an ex Nazi played by Orson Welles in order to cover his tracks tells Edward G Robinson that the German is incorrigibly evil and must be destroyed and driven from the face of the earth. Mr. Robinson emigrated to the USA and fabricated some personal small-scale pogrom he witnessed in the old country, not his country, but the old one, and said when he came to the USA at age ten he felt for the first time free. I'll bet he did, I know many people felt the same way, many people like Robinson, who were Jewish, more than a few up my family tree.

Gemany Must Perish! We laid it on with a trowel, it's true, you can never lay it on too thick. Germany Must Perish! My god, read from the perspective of a later humanity what a dreadful book that was, one probably unwise to publish, but we got a away with it, we always do. We were on the side of the angels by then, or damn close to it. What was the small change of life regarding what you could say about us not ten years before was now viewed with distaste, and so Jew hate was driven underground, where it belongs, if you could say boo about the Jew by then you could just say it barely. And in the first glow of our slow acceptance we made Hitler the pariah he is today; we truly created a monster, anathematization on a cosmic, industrial scale. Prior to that a man such as Lindbergh would think nothing of getting a service cross pinned to his chest by Nazi officialdom, little did he know that soon enough he would be seen as having supped with Satan with an exceedingly short spoon! How could he have known? He was just following the protocols of the Knights of old. But the reins were about to loosened, faith dimmed, chivalry dead; this new world we were creating was not going to be cricket.

But they had the right idea alright, they were taking hygienic caution, it was a racial prophylactic, they were seeing the world with clear eyes and taking the measures that were necessary for survival. One can only laud that, most people want to live, though when not faced with having to prove it most will deem it a reversion, they are a squeamish lot; looking back there were the race suicide prophets in America, the alarm bell in the night about the rising tide of color, which by the fifties simply seemed odd; but everything in the post war world blurred reality, the battle between Russia and America froze it in an ice from which it was released in 1989, history resuming just as the neoliberals were saying it was ending; but the ones who saw clearly in 1940 knew that they were at the choking point, and theirs was the only way to save a civilization, a culture, people, a race, a way of life. For what we have now is not that, a civilization that is. The machines goes on like before but no one can really distinguish it from the operators.

Germany did perish, thank god. With them out the way it was smooth sailing, for the most part. Some unreconstructed Southern racist was no match for our Fuhrer. We wailed at the dogs on chains, and the water hoses, and the lunch counters, and cried them rivers about the back of the bus, and the eternal corpse of Emmett Till (may God rest his useful soul), but a man who can walk into a hospital and put patients to sleep-—that man means business, that man would throw fire down on a school rather than let a black girl walk in.

But, comrade, I must leave dear Adolf for now, otherwise I'd go on forever, he is truly inexhaustible. Here at the Ministry I have employees look up and bring me odd arcana about him, I think I must be one of the few remaining experts on him, for most he's just some vaguely evil spirit from a dead past, something with which to startle the horses and scare the womenfolk from time to time but little more. I have the misfortune to be an historical man in an unhistorical age. And now that all the tension has gone out of history it's hard to understand that at one point, when the outcome was not apparent to all, any political or social issue could be resolved by reference to him, it was as if he had subsumed in his person everything from the past and brought it to it's primal and irreducible level. His thought and his life are the gifts that will always repay attention for he brought history down to it's focal point, shorn of everything superfluous, in his itinerary is the entirety of human existence; his works, his words, his deeds are endless. Even I, old cynic that I am, learn something new from him now and again, from time to time. But basically he reminds us of the law of life, prevail or perish. And one should never feel any guilt for wanting to prevail or for prevailing. Otherwise you have been captured by an eighteenth century paradigm, when the living was easy. That, I assure you, was never our problem.

William James said that for a people being moral is more important than survival. Jean Raspail said that if the white man was to survive he was going to have to do things that will put his soul in the balance. I suppose that is true for everyone, either way, you must choose. Hate or die? Which will it be?

Before we turn to the post war era, the era of desultory mopping up, there's one last question I have for Adolf. Was he wise in all he did? The question is asked again and again. A last gasp is one thing but a foolhardy thrust is another. HP Lovecraft was thrilled by Hitler's emergence, by his advent, he said that he thought that the man could and would rejuvenate the European peoples. That was in 1933 but just before his death in 1937 Lovecraft said he worried that Hitler was becoming too extreme in his policies and in the end he might have the exact opposite effect of what he intended, which he did, we know by now. Was he right? History has many cunning passages....could he have taken the Junger route? Drawn a circle around Germany and wished the world of color away? Simply expelled the Jews? Got them a homeland in Palestine? Made a nice little white country of his own? I think not. I think he sensed not only the gravity of his situation but the finality of it, that after him was the deluge. Hitler was an impulsive man, but in this instance I think his impulse was correct. He sensed which way the wind was blowing, he saw the French pour coloured troops into Germany, he saw anti-colonialism rearing it's ugly head, he saw the various ideologies of race-mixing being bandied about and finding a receptive audience among fools, he saw the American Negro looking for a place in the sun and, above all, he saw that we Jews were getting more and more powerful every year. The white world around him was becoming morally weak and no country is an island, and unless the rot was excised then or soon it would soon engulf them all. Look at Eastern Europe in the 20s, they made their stand, they had their mini baby booms, but were unable to withstand the rising tide of...what do we call it...color...yes, color....they made their half-hearted try but our markets swamped them in the end, they were small peoples unable to withstand the tsunami. Hitler rightly knew or sensed that racial autarky was an incredibly difficult thing to maintain, amidst prosperity that is, prosperity coupled with moral weakness, that race is that promiscuous thing, it's hard to make it impermeable, there's always someone sneaking off to the hay bale, that unless it is vigorously and jealously guarded it always bastardizes, it always becomes unstable, there is always a fox in the hen house somewhere, and there's always a negro in her wood pile, safe to say. And we held the Anglo world in our clutches and Weimar, well, Weimar was just dormant, incubating, ready as ever to return, break out, a virus poised to become an epidemic. So it was, as the Americans used to say, when they were a much more confident lot, do or die. And who knows, if he had punched through to the oil fields the world might have become a very different place. If he had went pan-white, perhaps? Of course there was the bomb, the Jew Bomb. Would goy have bombed goy? Gentile on gentile? Would they have been that obedient to the general plan? Ah, who knows. History not only has many cunning passages, it always deceives by vanity in the end, but now no more, not now that it has ended. But who can think of anything more dramatic, a man, a great man, a world historical man, the world historical man, makes one roll of the dice for the white man, come up snake eyes, but just barely; and the die is cast. It's a story someone really ought to tell.

There are other theories too, that Weimar wasn't so bad and would have reformed, that Strasser could have threaded that perfect needle, Hitler never should have abandoned Feder, etc, that Nietzsche detested petty bourgeois anit-semites, the same old tripe, and I notice that the people who promote these theories tend to be over-serious Christians, so see poisoned chalice, see Trojan Horse, above, if you even bother.

Once Hitler was presumed dead and we put those pictures of bulldozed bodies on American movie screens History, with a capital H, was over. Just like that, amazing. We eternal sophists had to blind our eyes. Even we were a little startled by the suddenness of it. It's true that the Holocaust, with a capital H, and that stands for trouble, did not emerge for some time, but one belt, one road, right? All we have is time, we are the immortal race after all. And now that we have allied with our equally stout and unwavering Han brothers (who also wanted to live forever and never hesitated for a single moment as to how to deal with their undesirables) all we have is the future. Standing there in 1945 for all intents and purposes we might have seemed a defeated race, but for all intensive ones we had prevailed, we were on the cusp of a true breakout. Who could see it? A few. Patton belly-ached....but what could he do? He was dead, not having been obedient to the overall plan. The others had been discredited. No one knew or cared, but L. Stoddard lived on until 1950, a relic, a vanquished relic, an ideological husk. Our enemies had been vanquished before us, our moral enemies, our mortal ones, and the world breathed new air, the air of An American Dilemma, a watered down American Creed, and the UNESCO statement on race. Safe to say that no one had a good word to say for racial ideologies, or racism or, even, race, that non-existent thing. Oh, racism had turned Europe into a field of ruins, but anti-racism would level it all, we made sure of that. We would soon make genocide a right of the peoples, we would clothe tyranny in tolerance. And it really wasn't all that hard when you're dealing with a weakened people. If you want to destroy a people you sever their roots, you destroy their history, you destroy their classics....you know the drill. Soon dead white males would be the red headed step children of the world. But let us not move too fast. Let us linger over the intervening four decades, the beginning of what was really little more than a clearing of accounts.

With Hitler dead and buried we had our totem, our talisman, our bogey-man, our thing-that-goes-bump-in-the night, our salutary example to the goyim, with him in our pocket there is nothing we could not do, he was truly the horse we always wanted to ride.......

No one writes history any more as we don't like to overmuch burden our youth with useless trivia but if one were to write the history of Modern America they should divide it like this:

1890 to 1950: Softening Up

1950 to 2000: The Great Unraveling

2000 to 2030: Knock Out Blow

2030 to Present: Death And Burial

One theory of social movements is that they succeed to the extent that their leaders possess "social capital" in the form of ties to the mass media, corporate cultural intermediaries, and the state intelligentsia---where dominant interpretations of reality are generated.

Of course we were a racial movement not a social one and we didn't have ties, we were it. After the war we had New York, Hollywood, the universities, newspapers, all were in our pockets and we generated the dominant interpretation or reality which was of course: white man bad; and later on, when the time was right, white skin bad, dark skin good. We like to keep it simple, by make believe we rule this world.

What happened in the decades after the war was not a cultural revolution it was something much more, and much better, it was a social revolution, everything solid melted into air. If in 1960 one wanted to see pornography it was certainly possible but one would need to go to the weirdo part of town, to the weirdo theater, or to the weirdo book shop. In short, one would be a weirdo. A half century later not only would one be saturated with pornography, up to one's eyeballs in it, filled to the very gills with it, by watching it one would not be a weirdo, the weirdo would be the one who still said you were a weirdo (hang-ups you see). A world turned upside down is one that can be ruled by violence, and of course by make believe, inversion is the best kind of magic.

They had rights but we gave them human rights in order to take them away.

And that's all it ever really was from May, 1945 on, a mopping up exercise, an index on the end-ex, a collecting of our winnings. Just how massive was the win? As a for instance it's a sign of how America was overtaken by an alien ideology that what for over a century was an icon of Liberty was changed to mean they must submit to being invaded by alien races whose rule over them meant the end of their Liberty.

We overwrote the script. Let me say that again: we overwrote the script. A country created on paper, out of thin air, created in a Quaker meeting hall, was particularly subject to this horrible indignity. Better for a nation to be born in the mists of time beyond recall, any nation created on a rational basis will evaporate like morning mist.

We employed a long term and multi-faceted strategy to destroy White America but it boiled down to this, our strategy was very simple, very simple from beginning, from the time we washed up on their shores: it was to mongrelize the in group until there is no in-group, mongrelize the in group until they have lost not just the ability to survive but the will do it.

Leslie Fiedler said that in the 1950s in Manhattan every gentile who came to the big city to become a big intellectual immediately started taking on the role of the little Jew, dressing like a Jew, acting like a Jew, speaking like a Jew, assuming the aspect and accents and affect of a Jew, and in this way American culture become thoroughly Jewish, which is an homage to power indeed......

We of course had our Frankfurt Group, our Adorno, our F scale, but I'd like to point out one that is often overlooked. It was the Civil Rights movement after all the was the dagger in their hearts, the subversive movement that was the paradigm for all the insanity that followed, it took their rights away and racially degenerated them. And it was Brown v. Board which was the camel's nose in the tent, little black boys and girls and little white boys and girls and all of that disgusting nonsense, our lawyers saw to that, we Jewed up the Courts until they buckled like a cheap suit. They dragged their feet on implementing it, but it was the principle that mattered, nine robed visionaries properly shamed and coaxed could degrade the racial character of a nation of 200 million. And behind that scam was an actually fairly little known (and less read, understandably) book by a guilty Swede, Myrdal's An American Dilemma (funded by the Carnegie Corporation, Yaweh love it). A stealth bomb that book, the unheralded keys to the kingdom.

Myrdal himself was a rather obtuse fellow, and his theory was that America was racist and had always been racist, and that in order to remove this stain it had to stop being racist. They were wrong to defend themselves he says. The color line, the only thing standing between anyone and the abyss, was made anathema. It was written in 1944, weighing in at a dull thousand plus pages, just at the time the stampeded goyim were doing our dirty work in Germany; and the Swede did a number on America's elite, not hard you say, and you're right, they were a thinned out and rather unimpressive lot. It's also the book that gave us the phrase "The American Creed" (see countries created out of thin air, above). The book had a unique and undue influence in all the right quarters and was the key to Brown, etc., indeed a generation of white folk were inculcated in the idea that there should be no white folk. The Swedes, my god, what a godforsaken people.

And some time in there, a little before or after, was the UNESCO statement on race, that there are no races and that they are all equal, that miscegenation does not lead to racial decline, that race was a social myth, etc., all of it certified by FDR's ghost, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Alger Hiss. That nominally serious people could have taken so seriously such child like fantasy beggars belief, it wasn't even high sounding balderdash, it was low-brow balderdash, but what was said of the Germans was true of white folk in general, they were always at your throat or at your feet. Indeed, if we had a guiding star, it was that there are no races, that there was only one race, the human race, and that racism, something endemic and perfectly natural to humans, so natural that for thousands of years no one gave it a second thought, was anathema. We are racialists preaching anti-racialism, racists selling anti-racism, even as we are sophists proceeding by misdirection. But then if you can believe that Ashley Montagu is a reasonable sounding name for a Jew you'll believe in anything, however far-fetched it is.

Civil Rights (meaning no rights for the white man) was the vanguard but so much came in it's wake, and though it was ostensibly for blacks you can be sure we Jews lawyered the shit out of it. And it's true: equality is a weapon. If we had a theory it was if it was standing knock it down, knock it down until there was nothing left, nothing left for them but their eyes to see their own destitution. Kinsey, the Pill, free speech, psychedelics, rock and roll, imagine there's no country, race riots, assassinations, Miranda, no payer in schools, feminism, women in the work place, the two parent trap, outsourcing, abortion, gay rights, trans rights, the Loving ruling, pornography, the sexual revolution, the cultural revolution, the social revolution, globalism, libertarianism, Vietnam, anti-racism, no fault divorce, Dead White Males, the patriarchy, affirmative action, anti-colonialism, black power, Chicano Power, nothing comes between me and my Calvins, fists in the air at the Olympics, Stonewall, Lady Chatterly, Playboy, Jackson Pollock, Pop-Art, modern art, an end of the great narratives, I could go on but, safe to say, to the average white man watching this all on television it must have been one massive indignity after another. It was the great unraveling. Everything solid melted into air........

Somewhere in there too (1976) a Jewess with a jaw-locking prose style named Judith Butler announced to the world that biological sex did not exist but rather there was something called gender which existed only in the mind. Only in the mind, mind you. By the time she died she had been given every award a society can give to a scholar and so in the end we did to the sexes what we had done to the races, first we fused them and then we simply made them disappear.

If you want to destroy a people you destroy their heritage, you destroy their history, you destroy their classics, their past, their heroes, their culture, their language, their literature; perhaps in the end you leave them only with their eyes so they can witness their destitution. A people who are without the voice of their ancestors are like a plant that has been uprooted and is living above ground synthetically with chemicals. Without lineage, without blood, without time, without identity, they are just a cipher waiting for a more dominant interpretation of reality.

Now that the Germans were gone we knew that the final bone in our throat would be the American White Man, White America. They never had a full blown policy named after it, and that was the problem. We turned all of our attention to him, to make him a stranger in his own home. We knew that the white man in the end would always stick to his mores, his traditions, that after years of their being submerged, he would stick to them even more. We always knew that the white man was the last obstacle to our universal dreams, the very last. And, as such, he had to go. He had, after all, or so we put it about, blood on his hands, and tomorrow belonged to us.

The author of that defeatist Serenity Poem (a favorite of losers everywhere) was Reinhold Niebuhr, in the 1950s he also authored the so-called "truce" between the big three religions, essentially gutting any notion of religion in the public square, thus removing another ancestral claim of the white man to his own country. Two percent and we got a rabbi at all of the governmental functions, "Judeo-Christian"--what a crock and what a coup, put a menorah on the White House lawn and call it surrender.

When I think of yeoman's work being done I think of little Emanuel Celler, in Congress at the time of the 1924 immigration restriction act, a brand new congressman from Brooklyn, on the losing side, but sticking around and re-emerging 41 years later to lend his Jewish name to the stake put into the heart of White America. Imagine that! Forty-One Years! Being a little pipsqueak Jew speaking up bravely to the WASP establishment, taking a drubbing, then not so much licking his wounds as rubbing his hands, and watching as the long decades rolled by, and as his enemies became more and more deracinated, their identity thinned out, more and more in disarray, more and more exhausted, more and more demoralized, waning while we were waxing, dying out and dying off, until that great day in New York Harbor where, as referenced, the representative of a once great Anglo-Saxon nation referred to the 1924 Act as a "cruel and enduring wrong", a "harsh injustice", and an affront to the American Creed of judging every man on his merits. Imagine it! A cruel and enduring wrong! Injustice! Merits! A people wanting to survive and have a country of their own cruel! He spoke like one of us, or he was as dumb as Texas cow shit. And of course little Manny Cellar, Jewish little Manny Celler, was there that day and had to hold in cold contempt the people who would sign their own death warrant in full view of the Statue Of Liberty, a veritable suicide note it was. As for the poem at the base, that was a fine bit of work, which reminds me that no self respecting people lets aliens scrawl filthy graffiti at the base of their temples. That poem, barely literate and indicative of suicidal tendencies for anyone who would adopt it, had started out inside the statue getting no attention, until a rich WASP socialite named Georgina Schulyer paid for it to go at the base. It continued to sit there in obscurity until we played it up as of 1938 in order to get more of us in from Europe, and then a half a century later it was holy fucking writ, it was damn near the law of the land, a statue become like statute. And on that fateful day when the America President, charged with protecting a 90 percent white nation, signed that people's suicide note, the Vice President chimed in too and he said the Act would prove that in America there were no second class citizens; he was wrong though, that designation was reserved for the white man. It would not upset the ethnic balance of the nation, it was said, it was not a revolutionary bill, wrong on all counts, we are liars and we operate by misdirection. We were fully aware that we were delivering the death blow, that we got the unsuspecting white man to herald it as the triumph of the American spirit, and to do it in full view of Lady Liberty, that was just insult to injury.

If your ideals can be used against you you have the wrong ideals.

And that poem of course was occasioned by the so-called Russian pogroms that were largely fictional, we sold those too via innuendo, rumor and lies. By make believe we rule this world.

The first way we work is by means of race-mixing, race-mixing in the sense of miscegenation (the flood of images of white women and black men coupling) and race-mixing in the sense of mixing the races together, multi-racialism, multiculturalism. We flooded their nations with nearly sub-human mongrels, we mongrelized the nation until there was no nation left, the destruction of White America was beautiful to behold. In 1960 it was a nice white country but by the year 2000 it was a disparate amalgamation of alien races, an international flop house, and more importantly a machinery had been set in place whereby over a million green cards were issued each year, a vast machinery for nation wrecking and, short of the political will to stop it, and there was none, it would go on til the crack of their doom. We turned this nice white country into little more than a legal entity, an economic zone, and a universal refuge situated at the crossroads of the world. Everything that was solid melted into thin air....evaporated like morning mist.....

The money spigots of the neoliberal order are free trade, open borders, and war, the exact things which were the death of White America.

Amazing too is how slowly we got the left to be outriders for global capital, in the name of humanity they did the work of the ones they once called robber barons, and in a final reduction to absurdity even unions got on board with mass immigration and the decimation of the working man.

For most of American history a tariff was a reasonable idea, but we moved around a lot so for us the free movement of people and goods became our ideology and our God, free trade and open borders, to reject these ideas meant a people wanted to have a country of their own, and if they were sane enough for that the Jews knew they'd be the first to go.

Open borders, and free trade, behind these twin ideas we put an enormous amount of effort, the jobs went out, the people came in and so all sides conspired against the middle, and so in earnest the American middle class was hollowed out. We made "industrial policy" into a dirty phrase, but all industrial policy is is a people wanting to have a country of their own, so we made it a dirty phrase and free trade became a god, finance became a god, the usual neo-liberalism being the preferred method of societal suicide. We had charts, graphs, a wide variety of voodoo, and luckily the Americans were suckers for anything with the word free in it. You could take the rattiest old couch in the world, toss it out on your curb and slap the word free on it and it won't be too long before some asshole will come along to pick it up.

There is a reason after all they say Uncle Sucker.

The neoconservatives were Jews who started out as Marxists, moved on to Trotsky, when the USSR became anti-jew they turned cold warriors, they didn't like the hippies so they became conservatives, whereupon they proceeded to hijack the Republican Party and led them happily into social liberalism and eternal war.

Neoconservatism was simply the realization on our part that we needed to play both sides of the fence, that to destroy White America a pincer movement was required.

We worked from the right via neo-conservatism and after all the good work the traditionalists did to build up the Republican Party we hijacked it just as that great friend of ours, that great nitwit Reagan, took over the country. We stole the Republican Party like the key from under the keeper's nose! Just like that, as is said. And by the mid eighties we had the three-legged stool, we tossed in social conservatism just to keep the rubes interested, but sending that great gentleman and scholar Mel Bradford packing was a sign of which way the wind blew—at our backs. Ah, the Paleos—we did them in with our amen corner. War, trade, open borders, it's not that hard to bring a once mighty people to their knees (simultaneously loosen social and economic controls). You see after the war America was really the only one left standing, everyone else was wading through the rubble, and it was a golden age for the average person, and we worked hard on the re-proletarianization of them, never forget that the etymology of that word is the making of slaves. And so the left got rid of social controls, the right got rid of economic ones and we played all sides against the middle---some things are so nice you need to write them twice.

And you my young friend, you know this drill better than anyone, your people bled America dry there for a while, they should have left you stagnating in your billions but they were a greedy lot, they couldn't leave well enough alone, global order and all that suicidal rot. Indeed, after letting us in bringing you into the world economy was their biggest mistake, perhaps they could have survived the one, or the other, but that one-two punch was deadly. The jobs went out, the people came in, the wages went down, the price of a housing went up, the fertility rate went down, men didn't make enough money for women to want to marry them, however counter-revolutionary that is, so bring more people in, more people in, wash, rinse, repeat, kaput. It really was that simple. It really was Satan's circle. Combine it with the rising of other countries which their foreign policy facilitated, the web of finance needs so to become global, and then when we threw in automation on top of it, it was too much for them to withstand, they buckled then they collapsed, eating bugs in sparsely appointed pods. Though I must say on the robots we held back a little, slowly in the wind and all that, there was never any reason to startle the horses or scare the womenfolk, better to let them slowly and gradually get acclimated to and even somewhat comfortable with their extinction. Satan's circle has all the time in the world to spread it's basic message.

The left got rid of social controls, the right economic ones.....

Sometime in there a famous movie was made called Falling Down. The hero is your average white collar white guy who's had enough and isn't going to take it any more and he starts mowing people down. It was adduced as an example of the angry white male phenomenon. But let's not forget that the movie was called Falling Down.

Middle American Radicals they were called. They had the right idea, of course. Go third position on us, resurrect the dead ghost of the even then living Junger, it would have been very popular in the right hands, could have carried a lot before it. A leader can always arise. But we had a stranglehold on the parties, so it was a no go, we made sure of that, donors, networks, the media, the networks, the newspapers, the magazines, the schools, we had a tight little control on things. From time to time those of us still interested in such things in the Ministry (and there are fewer and fewer as I grow old) ask each other: when was it finally over? There are still some among us that say Hitler's death was not the end and that, in theory at least, they could have sublimated the racism for the new age and have slaughtered us hard from the left and the right. It could have worked, true, in theory; but it was always an odd brew, that chimerical Third Position, that unicorn world-view, that gossamer ideology as fool's errand; and anyway no one picked up the cudgel. Well, in truth Duke did and Buchanan did, and Perot did, at least a little, taken together they were by hook and by crook honing in on a white man's third position, but they faded away and no one seemed interested in taking up a viable mantle. The problem was they were small fry and, like I said, we had a stranglehold on the parties. And so we were able quell democracy, take over the courts, make the living constitution the death of them all, and split the sides against each other; where if a leader had emerged to join the far left and the far right and bring a lot of the heartland along they could have given us a run for our money, maybe. And you know why they couldn't? Race, that's why. It was race that the conservatives were scared to deal with, wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole, it was race that the far right made frightening, and that the left treated the way vampires treat holy water. The far right and the far left were naturally matched, almost peas in a pod, they were anti-Jewish, anti-Israel, anti-capitalist, anti-corporation, anti-war, anti free trade, anti-establishment, anti-finance, but race got in the way. That's what kept these perfectly natural allies from greeting up and making one last stand: race. How funny. The issue of race will always be the cross upon which they will always hang. And it's why our basic strategy was so sound: mongrelize the in-group; and their's should have been always keep it white, through thick or thin, my god, just keep it white, and all will be well, all manner of things will be well......

And it was not really true to say that whites were being dispossessed, not all of them, many came over to our side and did fine with their possession, were fine with being obedient to our general plan, it was the Paleos, the nationalists, the white nationalists, the supremacists, the middle American radicals, the alt-righters and the right dissenters, the average white man, in short, who got disestablished, but then those are just other names for the losers. That is, what was dispossessed was nothing less that whiteness itself, for they were always a people in themselves, but never for themselves, alas.

And it's not too much boasting to say we decimated the middle class. There was a time when a man could work, the wife stay home, and they could have a nice white life in a nice white city and in a nice white country, take nice white vacations, have nice white neighbors, look forward to nice white retirements, but then suddenly it all vanished, things got pinched and both husband and wife needed to work and even at that they couldn't meet the standards that they had before. How did that work? Fortress America could have saved them, autarky on one continent. But the jobs went out, the people came in......

When the epitaph of America is written it will say that this was a people who loved freedom but who from the first slave ship, to all the steamships, and to the last special exemption visa loved cheap labor more. True that.

The left got rid of social controls, the right economic ones, the jobs went out, the people came in, and all sides were played against the middle.

America really was a husk of itself by this time though it continued to live off it's admittedly dwindling accumulated capital before the law of diminishing returns took effect, something you were too young to see. If not quite eating bugs they were experiencing power outages, crowding, housing prices through the roof, under our tutelage it's always inevitable that Metropolis becomes Modern Times becomes Soylent Green....

Make Room! Make Room!

Internationally, anti-colonialism had the same goal of targeting the white man wherever he was and the promotion of the rising tide of color. White skin bad, dark skin good, we had our mantra, simple is as simple does. Rhodesia, South Africa, two once thriving white countries that we turned into test cases, then black basket cases. And you'll notice how the white power structure all around the world heaped massive opprobrium on the only countries who had the right idea, the ones with the spines of steel, their backbones still intact, the ones who could have resurrected the chances of the white man, in embryo true, but one must start somewhere. But to get the white man to kill the white man's chances, to sell out their brothers in arms, it's rather easy when you've ruled rule Britannia out of bounds. We know who lost America.

We might pause here to say: and the Jews were behind all of this? Yes, we were, we were very much indeed, we most emphatically were. I don't and won't supply footnotes to this, but safe to say find a movement, a tendency, an attempt to tear down something Christian, something traditional, something American, something white and behind it you're sure to find more than a few Jews in the woodpile, we have our fingers in every pie, if none in the dike. After us, my lord, the deluge.

Someone once asked me what my social philosophy was and in lieu of anything else I told him: dark skin good, white skin bad. And though we don't believe a word of it it's true: our stroke of genius was to get enough white people to believe that white people were immoral, there was the slavery, the colonialism, the treatment of women, the Indians, the aboriginals, it's life you say, but we made them hate life, made them hate living, made them hate their people. So naive were they, so enmeshed in a bubble of their own making, that they believed the nonsense, believed the lie. The white man immoral! But who isn't? One shoots Gandhi doesn't one? The American generation that came of age in the mid sixties will go down as simultaneously the most lucky, the most stupid, and the most evil ever born; they literally inherited the world and their response was to fuck in the mud. What can one say about such a people save good riddance?

We hit our true genius, really, well after the miraculous decade of the 1960s. When did it start? When is the fist time you heard the phrase political correctness? When did you first hear that even more important phrase: dead white males? Dead white males, more of them please! In a very real way the madness that came to fruition in the teens of the next century, all of it, can be traced back to that single phrase from the 1980s: dead white males! smash the patriarchy! down with the classics! Hey Hey Ho Ho Western Civ has got to go! It seemed harmless or amusing at the time to many but these were our poisonous growths that bore deadly fruit. That a so-called serious nation would countenance such refuse is justification enough for it's demise but here's the truth: they ate it up, the flagellants ate it up, or enough of them did. When a nation becomes busy abrogating it's past perk up your ears, something big is going on. It's true that in the grand scheme of things the 1960s made the splash but my heart's always been with the 1980s, for the sheer audacity of subversion. That's when multiculturalism and the "studies" revolution got into full swing, that's when immigration hit it's ongoing fever pitch, when neoconservatism made it's vertical ascent, that's when the American mind finally closed. Reagan and Thatcher were supposed to be leading some kind of counter-revolution but in fact those two were not even speed bumps on the road to degeneracy: they were it's necessary accelerants, neo-liberals always are. Mr. Enoch Powell once told the Thatcher woman that he'd defend England to the death were it to become communist, which baffled Maggie, which is the difference between a being a real racial patriot and being a mercenary bitch.

And here we get to the heart of the matter, or near it, or near enough. When you can get them codify their own racial destruction, to exalt it as their ideal, to grant it the legitimacy of an ideology, to get them them to work for it and defend it as moral, you've achieved something. And such was multiculturalism, the famed French living together. Some time in the 1950s some idiot came up with the theory called Contact Theory. He had noticed that racial tensions seemed endemic to all societies and he thought that it was because the races didn't really know one another, and that the more they did, the more they lived among one another, the more they lived together, the more contact they had, the more the tensions would be eased or erased, the more contact the more getting along; but of course he had it basackwards, the tension was due to the fact that they knew each other all too well, and contact theory was a theory that was stillborn, dead in the cradle, contact theory was a theory that did not survive it's first contact with reality; life is nothing but a state of nature, a state of war, the war of all against all, is nothing but demographic conflict, no matter how much prosperity papers it over, for a while. Which is why, of course, we went in so big for the mixing.

The remarkable thing about Bowling Alone is not that it shows that the presence of diversity means that there is less social trust between the groups, that much is obvious, but that even within the groups the trust decreases, as if the presence of several out groups makes the in group turn on themselves........

It's what we counted on.

I've heard that multiculturalism was just an ex post facto rationalization for the surprise of diversity. This doesn't give us enough credit. We've known from the beginning that the 90 percent white country was bad for us, that every bit of white racial decline meant our power grew; and if society was split up among many factions we would be the most powerful, it really was as simple as that. It took us half a century but when the civil rights movement made race hatred out of bounds, how could they deny their tolerance to the rest of the world? Of all the things that happened in that era it was the one on October 3, 1965 which was the most important. Everything else could have come later, would have come later, eventually. But once starting out on the road to race diversity, to race mixing, to race amalgamation, to social miscegenation, to the destruction of White America, there was no turning back. And we did it at the time when their wealth had put them asleep and when they woke up they found that their decline and then demise was completely entrenched in the system, it was an unstoppable and vast machinery of undermining the fabric of the country, Mr. Johnson signed a suicide note......

Pavlov was never prouder of his dinner bell than we were of our "racist"—salivating is one thing but making them grovel is a difference of an order of magnitude.

In the 1970s a moderate form of scientific racism returned in the guise of sociobiology, the so-called return of human nature. It was a measure of how successful we were that when Nixon called Dan Moynihan to discuss Herrnstein's book the first thing that the latter says is be sure no one in the White House knew he was reading it, Nixon agreed, as if he were reading a dirty book, which he was, which he was.

Richard Dawkins was the man who put forth the idea that genes were amoral monsters blindly pursuing a relentless will to power but who in his dotage became a dreamy humanitarian. So much for him, so obedient to the plan.

And you have to admit that in our time period it was a real coup d'etat, though the outlines of it could not be seen until years later. It was even more, truly, than an overwriting of the script, it was the engrafting of an alien ideology onto a healthy host, a healthy body. And it was a real rout. The master narratives were dead and we placed chaos at it's heart. If it was standing we knocked it down. In 1997 President Bill Clinton said that his country was on the cusp of the third great American revolution, when America ceased to be a European Country. The first two had been disasters, the third would mean death, but his Oregon audience of young white people applauded their own demise, they clapped not for themselves, and certainly not for their posterity.....

If we have just left the long period of the great unraveling, we now move on to the penultimate one, the Knockout Blow (2000—2030). Unfortunately by the time the 2010s had arrived the catch phrase "cultural revolution" had been taken; really it was perpetual; perhaps we could call it the Social Revolution. Some of have said it was that old American favorite, a Great Awakening, with more than a few burnt-over districts.

In 2005 Sam Huntington, scion of The Mayflower generation, wrote his civic nationalist screed Who Are We? He opened it with flags in Boston which reminds me by then more than a few had been ejected from their heritage. The flags had come out in honor of 9/11, and it was good that we channeled the righteous anger into good old fashioned patriotism that was as American as your mother. A smarter country would have seen that it was the very notion of exceptionalism that had brought on this discontent, the belief in mission, the universalizing mission, the making the world safe for, the shining city on a hill, the dedication to, all to be tied bewilderingly, if not inexplicably, to the idea and reality of the Jewish state (miracle of god). When Truman recognized us in 1948 nearly the entire American foreign policy establishment was against it, they knew America was hooked in with the oil and why antagonize 100 million people? But that ex-Klansman was the same guy who said that the 1924 Immigration Restriction Act went against the wishes of no less a personage than Jesus Christ himself and he wanted to be King Cyrus, the fool.

Decades later, and decades ago, a similar irrational orgy of Old Glory broke out in your province of Hong Kong, and as I saw it on the television I had to laugh up my sleeve, these Hong Kongers unfurling a symbol that was by then long dead, by then no one on the left believed it, no one paying attention on the right did, only a few old war horses dreamt of Ronald Reagan in the night, wave it for the Gipper, you know, but those protesters they were just the pallbearers of a dead ideology, appealing to a defunct ghost.

A smarter country would have become a hermit kingdom, would have created Fortress America, would have thrown up walls, and tariff walls, closed the draw bridges and brought everyone home, instead they plunged into the world and brought in more Muslims and more of everyone than ever, suicidal tendencies die hard.

We are a patient people and we had our Witzes and our Bergs, and our Wolfs, and our Steins in the Defense Department for decades, blueprinting little Israel's wars as America's wars, it took us a while but soon enough we cashed in; our amen corner is very powerful; when Patrick J. Buchanan opposed the first Gulf War he said only two groups favored it, the IDF and that American amen corner; when he opposed the second we brought in one of our own from Canada to call him un-American which, in hindsight, was laying it on a little thick, that was one glint-eyed black Irish who would kill for America. But it worked, the war fever brought out the worst in them, discredited the Paleos, to the point where some of them must have been thinking they used to be outraged by the allegation that America was the Great Satan but now they saw the point, it's a phrase that has traveled well. And so they got bogged down in endless, pointless, expensive wars, our wars, wars without end, the ones we inveigled them in, split the country further; Huntington noted that the flags on Beacon street eventually dwindled but the chaos we left behind endured; it always does.

I myself was ambivalent for a while about the value of Israel. It put us too much on the radar, it was nice to flee to, but why wave a flag to point out how obvious what one is doing. But I think I was wrong, broad daylight was best, flagrant is the best disguise, and we had those Americans groveling at our feet, hands on that wailing wall with a look on their face like they just had a religious climax, small hat on head, ours, ours, all ours; one elected official once said that they got their morality not from government but from us, yes sir. And when they fought our wars, sent their very own children, flesh of their flesh, blood of their blood, to die for us it just put the most emphatic of periods on the last words of their suicide note.

The word goy does not strictly speaking mean cattle, that's a sort of slang, what the word means is one who is a little dim, a little obtuse, not too quick on the uptake, not the brightest star in the firmament, nor the deepest river in the forest, is too trusting, and with a singular inability to detect deceit.

The neocons were a strange breed, flagrant in their allegiances, they started out as anti-American reds, but when the USSR turned on Jews they got on board with the liberal establishment, wormed their way in you may say.......

In 1981 Hollywood made a television movie called Skokie, with several major stars, celebrating the fact that the ACLU defended the rights of Nazis to march through what they called a Jewish neighborhood filled with Holocaust survivors; the chances of Hollywood making such a movie forty year later were exactly zero. See obedient comma general plan.

And yes from 1981 to, say, 2017, was a real sea change (consult the demographic charts for the reason). Some put the great awakening in the year 2013, which is as convenient as any. It's when we cast any caution aside and began to dismantle whiteness in a big way, brick by brick, really, so that no one stone was any more atop the other. And when they asked me later why we wanted to dismantle whiteness I always said that every criminal wants to be rid of the evidence of their crime, especially when they have no plans on fleeing scene, having long since taken possession of it.

Look at free speech. Look at the record. Mario Savio went to a sit in, and they clamored for it. Hollywood made a film by one of our own celebrating the First Amendment, The People v. Larry Flynt. As long as we were injecting them with degeneracy, lies, subversion, and filth we loved free speech, fought to the death for it, but if they tried to defend White America we put them in a cage. Safe spaces became the fashion, making the world safe for us.

Some cry out as they strike you, others say sorry as they're struck.

And what happened at this time was really phenomenal. It was as if every poisonous fruit that had been stored since the mid sixties had suddenly threw off perfect spores and bloomed--—the 'woke' arose as one to reap their rewards. Statues were toppled with abandon, genders blurred, reputations smeared, pictures taken down, heroes debunked, streets re-named, whiteness pilloried (from pillar to post), murals from the 1930s were trashed, masculinity was reviled, books were banned, people were purged, channels were deleted, anti-semitism was deplored, anti-racism took center stage, fascists were de-monteized, campuses were taken over, professors were shouted down, Nazis were punched, conferences were cancelled, speech was curtailed, it was a Talibanic orgy, I tell you if it was standing we knocked it down, a great erasure was in place, as whiteness every where was under assault. Imagine that! Whiteness under assault! White America was no more! No self respecting people allow a race of aliens to scrawl graffiti at the base of their temples, and no self respecting people allow themselves to become servants in their own homes. But we were not dealing with a self respecting people; we were dealing with a fentanyl addled, opioid addicted, self-flagellant, guilty, cringing, dying race, a defeated people having been ejected from their heritage. There were exceptions, of course, there always are. But just because some take to the hills doesn't mean we haven't pacified the countryside.

The retroactive criminalization of the past is a sign post of revolutionary dictatorship, it says as much right there in our manuals.

And somewhere in their too capital got woke, and antifa became the ground troops of the establishment, the left became complicit in global capitalism, in the new world order, no mean feat really, that. It is a truth universally recognized that mass immigration is nothing more nor less than a transfer of wealth from the working class to investors. I always imagined some multinational CEO watching the left scream for open borders, and the cold contempt that he must have for them as they did his bidding, did it with such vehemence. Well, they were doing our bidding too, as was the CEO, as was nearly everyone, let me repeat again, the left got rid of social controls, the right economic ones, and all sides ganged up on the middle. But the way in which Big Technology, the corporations, went left, if in name only, how they bought off the radical's complaints, how they were somewhat taken aback by Occupation Wall Street, so went all in on men in women's bathrooms and drag queens flashing little children in public libraries to nip an outbreak of class warfare in the bud, was a thing to behold. The Democrat Party became the party of the rich, the Republican party remained a hand maiden and we, as ever, prevailed.

The thing about the Great Awakening was it's burnt-over areas, it's moral puritanism. People need to believe in something, and unlike us, they were not able to believe in their race. So they glommed on to a "morality" which was fine as long as their morality was the morality we spoon fed them—"white skin bad, dark skin good". And they took it up with a vengeance, as if to our manner born.........

And of course every action has a reaction but by this time everything was dyed in the wool. I say the ship had sailed for Europeans in 1945 but my more cautious colleagues in the ministry say they still could have resisted, that 1990 was more like it. They could be right. But certainly the so-called "populist movements" which reared their ugly heads in 2015-2016 were a pop gun in a thermonuclear blast. They were going to take back their countries! As if they weren't already ours. Reporters went on safaris in the hinterland of Pennsylvania to see what the natives were thinking which was: we're fucked. Ah, by then they were walking across moonscapes filled with opium eaters. And to be fair, of course, to get the chronology right, you can trace the lineage back before that, there were the old school die-hard and preeminent racists like Oliver and Pierce, hell, at his death the latter, who had taken over an ill run and defunct organization, was raking in millions a year—but he died. As for Oliver, their true crown prince, the pristine defender of whiteness in it's purest form, our boy Buckley put paid to him like he did so many, it's always nice to see an exaggerated high WASP accent so in sympathy with our needs. And of course their ilk had the right idea but we had so prevailed that they were the skunks at the garden party, pariahs to our paragons, their names were mud. And as specified you had your Paleos and then the alt right and then the Dissident Right and then the—again on the right track but Hitler sent his goons to bust up our shops due to one of ours being an assassin—it was a far cry from that, you need broad popular support and a leader to kill your enemies. As for the populists they were supposedly White America fighting back, but it was a last gasp of a dying people, as the next decade proved. If you want your people to survive keep a ninety percent majority, and stay in fighting trim, that's what I would have told them at the time, had they asked.

They would have been better off had they resigned themselves that they were not going to stop society's leftward drift, they were not going to stop globalism, they were not going to stop the market's voraciousness, they were not going to reverse white demographic decline, they were not going to deport thirty million people, and instead put all their efforts into becoming an unreconstructed white minority that would become the sharp bone that gets caught in our throat, which we could neither swallow nor digest. But they wanted to get their country back, not realizing it had long since been lost.

That arch racist Jean Raspail wrote a novel called Who Will Remember The People? It is about the eradication of an indigenous South American tribe as the result of repeated encroachment and invasions, and he wrote it because he believed that nothing on earth is sadder than to witness the passing away of a people, any people, or to witness the passing away of a distinct way of life.

And indeed the year 2020 was the year that anyone who had been following the bouncing ball could see everything clearly, it was after all our jealous god who made this joke. And of course the 20s were the watershed, when it went from this to that, and after that, truly, the deluge. Prior to that the man on the street may have thought the matter was in doubt (it wasn't) but by the middle of that decade everyone had thrown in the towel. They spoke of civil war, they spoke of boogaloo, but too many were obedient to our upward drift, and using a gun was getting increasingly legally perilous. We had the full might and main and force of the most powerful government in the history of the world at our backs, we had the technology companies, we had the entire media including the controlled opposition, we had the entertainment complexes, we had the universities, the secondary schools, we had the internet channels, we had both parties, and each and every one blared out the slow drum beat of a victorious and irreversible world-view and, as a backstop, should things ever get dicey, we had the military, we had the big city police departments. And too we had totally completed the job of labeling anyone and everyone who spoke the truth as a thought criminal and worse. The back of the American people was totally broken, though not all really realized it, they thought they were being moral; but nothing is more degrading than being a servant in your own home, or enjoyable than ruling in a stranger's land.

And over time we amped up our war on the thing we hate the most, hate. We perfected our algorithms to the point where if you searched for Adolf Hitler you got redirected to Yad Vashem.

And oh how they took to canceling whiteness, that incubating virus, that cancer of world history (or so we said). They had their invisible knapsacks, their white skin privilege, they handed over microphones, they granted everyone else special privileges, they honored foreign races, they enshrined minority heroes, they ruled themselves out of bounds, they sat in the back of the bus for a change, they made way for their replacements, they dug their own graves, they deemed themselves immoral, they befriended their daughter's rapist, they forgave their child's murderer, they paid for their own demise, they universalized themselves out of existence, they excused themselves for living, they broke faith with their ancestors, they anathematized their own history, they took down their own statues, they erased their heritage, they surrendered to the tyranny of guilt.

We made up the word genocide, so it seems like it's up to us to employ it. And the thing about this White Genocide (for let's drop the charade and call it by it's proper, formal name) is that when you've combined humanism and genocide you've really accomplished something, if there were to be any future historians they would surely see this genocide as unique among genocides in that they would take as a given that the perpetrators are the good guys. And of course I don't need to tell you that there are plenty of white people around, you see them every day, but whiteness is a dead letter, it's kaput, has crapped out. We don't ask for much in exchange for living, just obedience and attention and a good word for ourselves now and again.

Human rights was our battle cry, but it was human rights turned upside down, to commit a crime against humanity in the name of humanity is quite a feat, to dress up tyranny as tolerance, enslavement as freedom, standardization as diversity, genocide as the rights of peoples. By violence and make believe we conquered the world.

There were pockets of resistance, of course, there always are, some dyed-in-the- woolers routinely take to the hills for their ritual Masada, as we said there is always the pruning of the weeds and the mopping up to do, from time to time, now and again, one must mow the lawn. The nationalist populist movements of the teens fizzled out, still born in their cradle, the last gasp of the white man before the death rattle could be heard clearly by all. Those dissenters online, the tin pot Nazis, liked to play name that Jew. Occasionally some white man would go armada like into one of our places of worship and mow down a couple dozen but they were pariahs before the fact, and whatever last rights to guns they had would be curtailed further in the fire and brimstone hysteria we cranked up in the wake of it. The fact is they were like the alleged folks at Masada, no match for the Romans in a mood. And as you know even these are now few and far between, symbolic Germany has finally been pastoralized, the people subject to a universalizing mission, to complete pacification. And, really, what is a score of slain Jews placed along side eternal victory? At the drop of hat I'd buy it cheap even as I'd sell it dear. Hell, I'd pledge six million if forced, not that we did, but if we had to, mind you. Wave that bloody shirt boy, wave it until the cows come home, call it a steal at the price. We no longer cry out as we strike them.

Somewhere in there an aging aesthete gave the bootless cry: you will not replace us!, and this big replacement of his gained a tremendous currency in dissident circles, and was ridiculed by us, articles were written, etc., umbrage taken; we of course laughed up our sleeves knowing that we replaced him long ago; portrayed him as a Nazi and responsible for all sorts of crimes, standard operating procedure, pretty perfunctory. And this was the same man who a little while previously had glorified random sex with rough trade in the bushes, he did our work for us when he had the chance, he was fully obedient to the general plan; and then on the other end, to soften the cushion of his graceless fall from society, he ran around screaming that the replacers were the real Nazis—while the opposite was apposite—at least the torch bearers had the courage to name names: Jews will not replace us! Jews will not replace us! The magic word! Talmud and Taboo! But you, you sly fox, you of the large replacement, you aging aesthete, you Gay Icon, you changed it to You. Good one. So much for him, so long Marianne.

The Great Replacement was the most important event in world history. When the first Englishman stepped foot in Virginia it rocked the world, but when English culture went it was ten times as shattering.

Relative to their present mongrelization it's interesting that a first century Roman described his beloved city as the universal pot into which the cloaca of the entire world is emptied. It's what happens when you become nothing more than a legal entity, an economic zone, and a universal refuge, situated at the crossroads of the world.

And truly all of the so-called Greats, the Great Plague, The Great War, and the Great Depression, were all small relative to this Great Replacement (because of course the theory was true): and what antiquarians there are will wonder is how this once proud and confident people ended up getting History's backhand. Low numbers can't explain it. With that large a lead they could easily have set a glide path for themselves, doing decolonization, say, in the 1970s rather than the 1950s, parceling out rights gradually, under tutelage, white man's burden, etc., and slapping them down in the meantime, but they didn't have the stomach for it. Had they, their future would have been secure. But, oh, they were greedy bastards and they engaged in the Great White Civil War, and then it was my God what have we done!---and they self-immolated in an orgy of self-recrimination. A man can survive anything except a bad conscience.

And so we created the universal slum, the global favela. Make room! Make room! We were going to have them living in pods and eating bugs which, while not quite true, was nice to slip into the stream, paranoid fantasies are the stuff of future plans. But we did and have proletarianized the masses, and they are on their way to being the coffee colored serfs, docile and compliant, that we've always wanted for our world-wide plantation.

And in so doing what we did was make the world safe for Jews. Can there be any other proper aim for a people? We proscribed them, we outlawed them, we made them illegal, we de-platformed them, we de-monetized them, we branded them as criminals, we stigmatized them, we made them unacceptable in polite society, we held hearings on them, we called them immoral, we called them evil, we targeted them, took down their channels, we demoralized them, we banned speech, we banned words, we banned hand gestures, we cancelled people, we made certain that everyone knew that it was certainly not ok to be white, and left them in disarray, and all of this in their own home. Our home now. Who's even going to think about saying boo about a Jew? No one: that's who.

As for your people and mine, comrade, we reached an honorable stalemate, one could not do without the other, the chessboard was complete and no further moves to be made. And so we reached our accord, our separate peace. When you think about the great peoples of the world, the Japanese, the English, the Germans, it's only us who will last and that's really the only metric that matters. You'll run the machine and we'll be your lawyers and media consultants, you'll supply the violence, we the make believe. For after all a master race is one that masters.

Now that whiteness is little more than a rumor.

Any country created on paper is subject to hijacking by a different people with different words or that can give new meanings to the old ones.

And that my good friend is about how we did it. If I went a little rapidly over the latter years it's because I know that was when you came of age and at that time your country still paid particularly close attention to the baiuzo, as a curiosity, as a weakness to be manipulated or exploited, though now they are smart and don't teach much history other than the bare minimum, like we won, they lost and so forth. Like us you are a practical people and don't go around digging up graveyards, the past is now just a fable we dreamt up.

But to answer your very good question: how did we put paid to the white man?

Two police officers in No Country For Old Men are in a Texas diner in 1980 and one says he saw a boy with green hair and a hoop through his nose, never thought he'd ever see such a thing, never thought he'd see the like, and the other one says well, once they stop saying sir and ma'am, everything else follows.

It's so true, it's the little things that count.

Few individual in history have the honor of being simultaneously utter geniuses and complete nincompoops. Leo Tolstoy is one, John Lennon another. A third is Thomas Jefferson. So befuddled was he that when he got one of his state of the art coaches from London and found he didn't have the cash he was surprised to be told by his creditors that his slaves could serve as collateral; and he signed them over forthwith, pleased with the discovery. He did invent the swivel chair, however, to his eternal credit. As a matter of fact I'm sitting on one right now.

The white man had a good run in North America but it didn't take, it turns out it wasn't just the republic they couldn't keep, it was the continent

Jefferson was going to Germanize the Great Lakes in this endless farming republic of his, freedom would be reborn in the city of Big Shoulders. Herrs and Fraus up to their eyes in liberty and manure, all the live long day. But in fact it was mild mannered professors in that second city who would drive daggers into that wonderful creation of his, that beautiful small scale nation of villages.

If there was one idea which served us in good stead, did us yeoman's work (in honor of the sage of Charlottesville) it was that America was a proposition nation. A people become an idea! Universalize oneself out of existence! Rather a people is blood, time, history, heritage, lineage, ancestry. The railsplitter and logic chopper came along and said that his nation was better than those that came before, it was dedicated to a proposition. Better it should have been dedicated to itself. Had it been it might have lasted.

And so we return to our old question, your question, or two really. How did we do it? The answer to that is to answer when there was no turning back, when it was written in stone, when did the white man prove to have his identity graven in water?

It was all right there in the beginning really—that ill advised rhetorical flourish—all men are created equal. It did us yeoman's work, stillborn, dead in the cradle.

Some people are born in the mists of time; others in a Quaker Meeting Hall.

As you know working in the ministry I have access to all kinds of records, deep in the minutiae, and from time to time I have time on my hands. When I do one of my underlings who knows my sense of humor will send me something. Just the other day I found in my box an old commercial that ran for a while on one of our Jew networks. It was a white man, a southerner by lineage, one of our collaborators, a traitor obedient to the general plan, a middlebrow historian of some repute, the kind of person they trotted out when something serious was going on, the way in the old days you knew it was important when they served you up that hoary old bag of bones Doris Goodwin. His voice over was simple, the message was clear. He said that America was not a nation founded on a birthright but on the ascent towards an idea, an idea enshrined in-----

An ascent to an idea, an assent to an idea, I could not have put it better myself had I tried.

Whites created the civilization that we inherited, it's their world, but we are the only possessors, the only inheritors, and what succeeded their civilization is not a civilization but an anti-civilization, an anti-culture, an anti-history, the machine goes on as before but becomes more and more indistinguishable from what operates it.

It's one thing to be able to create a world but it's another thing to take it over. We were a numerically small people so our adaptation was to feast on what other's had made; from a survival point of view it makes perfect sense, finding the niche that expands to a world; because what is survival but inheritance, being an inheritor?

And when I take in the grand sweep of this history it takes my breath away. A small people hemmed in all sides by enemies, beaten back by all, but always pushing back and making gains, but still by the beginning of 20th century most of us were mired in miserable Cracow ghettos and speaking a snarling and barbaric Yiddish, or just filing off of the boats in New York Harbor and catching a first glimpse of the green breast of the New World. A hundred years later we controlled the levers of government, the commanding heights of the culture, the movie studios, the technology companies, the universities, had the military committed to making the world safe for Israel-—you know the list. Yes, we went straight vertical, hoisted ourselves on the petard of this new colossus, it was always the horse we were going to ride.

Yes, it was our century, just as the present one will be yours and mine.

That once they got a taste of capitalism China would morph into a Western style democracy was classic neoliberal folly, steeped as it was in a defunct 18th century paradigm, they were baffled that race, blood, history, time, lineage, ancestry are all older than ideologies which they've already vanquished.

It is impossible for two percent of the population to generate a country's dominant ideology without millions upon millions of collaborators. A people unwilling to defend itself deserves to perish. They say that every nation builds it's monuments and writes it's epitaph, but in their case they built them, we tore them down and, in the end, we wrote it. It went: we wish die.

Seemingly eons ago some egghead and fool announced the end of history, just when it was resuming. The cold war had locked it in amber but glasnost was appearing—and we were just coming into the completeness of our power. But now history has come to a close, we have ended it. They went gently into that good night in the end, what else could they do, we having won the game of global domination; we had to, really, win it that is, because we realized early on that the future is much too important to leave to humanity.

Tomorrow belongs to us.

The arc of history bends toward those who bend it. Those who believe otherwise bend beneath it.

Those who knew Bill Pierce remarked that he seemed to bear no personal animosity towards the Jews, it was as if he knew that to do so would be as absurd as to be outraged that animals kill one another in the wild when that is simply the nature of what they do. I agree, there was never anything personal about it, nothing personal at all, it's just that it was always going to be us or them. You see, they were in our way, and I really hope there are no hard feelings.

A thousand year Reich is child's play to the likes of you and me, a perfect example of shot term thinking—a sprint. Which is nothing for an immortal race. Only the strong can inherit the earth, only the ascendant can possess it.

And here we come to an end, their end, though our beginning. This turned out longer than I hoped, though I could have gone on; I hope I haven't bored you. If against my advice you do choose to keep a copy of this I flatter myself that I've hit the nexus of it, and that in some future time some recondite scholar of odd lore may think it contributed perhaps a little to this vexed and fascinating question.

But anyway, enough of them---to us, comrade--a glass!

Yours Obediently,

Jacob

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