Parting word:

Only the eternal feminine leads to the Absolute

Catalina (1980)

Above, Maxfield Parrish’s 1925 Lady Violet, who reminds me a girl I met long, long time ago… If an ethno-state is ever created, my ultimate dream is that in the distant future its people will resemble the paradisiacal world of Parrish.

What prevents whites from working toward that noble end, keeping in mind that Aryan female beauty represents the crown of the evolution? Elsewhere I have discussed the majority report: Capitalism and Christian axiology as the twofold etiology of Western malaise (Jewish depredations, a tertiary infection). But I have also mentioned my minority report: that the most extreme cases of self-hatred among whites—those who celebrate that their kind will become a minority surrounded by non-white swarms—cannot be explained satisfactorily by any of these two factors.

In this blog I have briefly written about how child abuse among some whites drives them to hate the culture of their parents, and also presented my book Hojas Susurrantes, most of which has not been translated to English.

After publication of this entry I won’t add new posts to this blogsite. Although I’ll still answer some comments, the site will basically remain frozen with the below PDFs advertising my books until the dollar crashes. But I’ll be busy explaining my minority report: writing another book related to the subject of why, in some families, the silly mechanism erected by the abused victim is none other than hatred for his or her parents’ civilization.

____________________________

Day of Wrath

The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour

Would Chechar fight for my balls?

Just look at the mirror every morning you shave—and be honest!

 
In a previous thread Mr Deutsch said:

What I am not a supporter of: Accusations that Mediterraneans (outside of specific areas) have a comprised genetic pool. There is no science to back it up, so Nordicists…

I responded:

Not only outside Sicily or Greece. I said above I’m planning to write an autobiographical book that starts with my impressions of what I saw the first day I visited Madrid: most Spaniards are clearly not Aryans. That’s the whole point. parrish-1927 And since my mind starts to build his thoughts and motivations after the 14 words (see: here) it goes without saying that quite a few Iberians are of no use for my ultimate goal (see also the last pages of Day of Wrath)—racial purity is paramount.

To put it in extremely brutal terms, do you honestly believe that in the coming racial wars I would risk my life for the hairy balls (i.e., genetic material) of that brown Italian player you claim to be white? Gimme a break. Those testicles are of no interest for our higher goals. I would fight only for those whose sperm carries the info to create the “girls on the rocks” that Max Parrish was so fond of painting in times when the Americans still treasured their Nordish blood.
 

________________

(For the context of this brutal response see the ongoing
exchange in the previous thread: here.)

On Spain and literature – III

retrato de soledad anaya

The reason I almost never include poetry in this blog is simple. Very, very rarely a poem reaches the innermost of my soul. The first poem that reached me was one by Luis de Góngora, which I read in the textbook of Miss Anaya (photo) in my middle teens.

Góngora was a Baroque poet of the golden age of Spain. He, and his contemporary Francisco de Quevedo (about whom I have to quote something in the future), are considered the most prominent Spanish poets of all time. Góngora flourished by the end of the 16th and the beginning of the 17th centuries, when the Spanish language reached its maximum degree of perfection. Anaya, my former school teacher, tells us in Literatura Española that later in his life Góngora became a priest and lived in a chaplaincy of honor in Madrid in the palace of King Philip III.

Góngora composed his Sonnet LCXVI when he was twenty-one years old:

Mientras por competir con tu cabello
Oro bruñido el sol relumbra en vano,
Mientras con menosprecio en medio el llano
Mira tu blanca frente al lilio bello;

Mientras a cada labio, por cogello,
Siguen más ojos que al clavel temprano,
Y mientras triunfa con desdén lozano
Del luciente cristal tu gentil cuello,

Goza cuello, cabello, labio y frente,
Antes que lo que fue en tu edad dorada
Oro, lilio, clavel, cristal luciente,

No sólo en plata o vïola troncada
Se vuelva, más tú y ello juntamente
En tierra, en humo, en polvo, en sombra, en nada.

 

Following is Edward Churton’s translation. Góngora’s urgent appeal to a young blonde nymph to enjoy her youth before time destroys her made a huge impression in the lad I was:
 

While to contend in brightness with thy hair
Sunlight on burnished gold may strive in vain,
While thy proud forehead’s whiteness may disdain
The lilies of the field, which bloom less fair,
While each red lip at once more eyes will snare
Than the perfumed carnation bud new born,
And while thy graceful neck with queenly scorn
Outshines bright crystal on the morning air:

Enjoy thy hour, neck, ringlets, lips, and brow;
Before the glories of this age of gold:
Earth’s precious ore, sweet flowers, and crystal bright
Turn pale and dim; and Time with fingers cold
Rifle the bud and bloom; and they, and thou
Become but ash, smoke, shadow, dust and night.

Johnson’s amnesty

“White Nationalists treat Mediterraneans like Republicans treat Mestizos.”

Stubbs

In “Dies Irae” I responded to Greg Johnson’s bashing of Pierce’s novels, especially The Turner Diaries, and I exposed him as the pseudo-Nietzschean that he is. (Warning: that article is very strong meat indeed, not for the faint-hearted.) Now Johnson is bashing Pierce again but this time Pierce’s last book, Who We Are. He didn’t do it in writing but in a segment of his recent audio interview of Matt Parrott. In about minute 40 of the interview Johnson started to talk about “genetic purity and white identity,” and in minute 41:30 he began his anti-Nordicist tirade speaking about what he calls “weird forms of purism”:

My attitude is that we… should just have an amnesty for all remote past miscegenation. Because the really important thing… is to preserve our race as it exists right now.”

Since Johnson has in mind the miscegenation that took place in historical Europe through the millennia, he is omitting the crucial question: are, say, brown-looking Sicilians “white”? Pay attention to his words that I italicized below:

“…save the race as it exists… rather than being caught up in the past; and caught up in weird forms of purism.

There’s a kind of fallacy in this statement. Is Johnson implying that every European individual before the mass immigration of recent decades is per definition “white”? Is he asking us not to see the phenotypic difference between, say, a modern Greek that looks like a Turk and the hyperborean nymphs that make me mad? What about the Frenchmen and Frenchwomen who have nigger blood in their veins? Let me rephrase a bit from Arthur Kemp’s March of the Titans:

mulatos-franceses

(French women with non-white blood.)

According to official French statistics, some three million of North African Arabic mixed race and African Blacks, all from the French colonies, immigrated into France itself during the period 1919 to 1927. (Take note that this happened before the Second World War and the Morgenthau Plan to exterminate the Germans.) Kemp’s point is that a significant minority miscegenated with women like those in the pic, creating the inappropriately named “Mediterranean” look associated with the French in certain areas. But apparently, Johnson is not a believer of the one-drop rule: once you are descendant from a Negro you cannot be considered properly White.

Johnson continues his anti-Nordicist speech in his interview of Parrott:

One example of weird kind of purism is in this book by William Pierce called Who We Are, which I have been briefing thru. This book basically is a warrant for genocide—if you will—a brief for genocide, of whites by whites!

Has Johnson read the mini-book about Sparta, originally written in Spanish, that I recently translated? Or Kemp’s? Or Who We Are with due attention (“…which I have been briefing thru”)? The moral of these books is that you simply cannot coexist with non-Aryans or use a class of non-Aryan servants because, in the long run, quantity overwhelms quality. The blond Spartans decayed after the Peloponnesus War precisely because they had not expelled non-Aryans from their conquered territories: a hypothetical prophylactic measure that makes white nationalists like Johnson and liberals shrug in horror!

What Pierce wanted for ancient Greece, which outside Sparta had a substantial amount of Asian and North African half-bloods, is analogous to having expelled the Amerinds to a corner of the continent as the English-derived peoples did in America. The non-Spartiate Helots could have been whiter than the Amerinds, yes: but tolerating them and even darker peoples inside their lands caused the extinction of the Aryan Greeks (see the link to Pierce’s chapter that I baptized as “White suicide in ancient Greece” at the end of this post). Johnson continues:

Pierce basically wants to do [it] by identifying himself as a Nordicist… Everything is blond hair and blue eye and his attitude about say Greeks is that the Dorians invaders should have exterminated all these darker cute white people so they didn’t mix with them. So my attitude is that there were people in the past who were Dorians or Aryans of various sorts. They do not exist any more. They are just ingredients now in what we call white people today. Anglo-Saxons don’t exist anymore. The Anglo-Saxons tribes which landed in England—they are just ingredients in the modern Englishman.

I don’t know shorthand and had difficulties with my laptop to easily rewind the interview after minute 44 but still managed to catch Johnson phrases such as: “If we are concerned with preserving Americans, English, Greeks…” and his mocking for what Pierce, Kemp and others considered “the terrible miscegenation.” Johnson also claimed that we must get “out of that mentality,” and that it is “impractical” to do an “insidious distinction among whites today” (my emphasis).

The same old fallacy again: assuming that all ancient Europeans were, per definition, “white.” In another moment of the interview Johnson says he is concerned about the miscegenation of today but not about the miscegenation of yesterday.

He is simply begging the question. The question is that precisely because in the past white peoples were utterly unconcerned about mongrelization that we have mongrels today. The question is whether or not the French descendants of, say, the women in the above pic should be considered whites or not. Pay attention how in the above quote Johnson mentions the modern “Englishman” together with the modern “Greeks” as if both could be plainly considered “whites.”

When Johnson finished his speech Parrott mentioned his distant drop of Indian blood. But that’s different. A distant drop of Amerind blood does not invalidate your whiteness as some black drops do. See for instance Andrew Hamilton’s article, “Whiteness, blurring.” I believe Hamilton is on the right track as to where drawing the line. Curiously, most commenters of that article published at Counter-Currents subscribe Johnson’s anti-Nordicist stance so common in white nationalism today.

White blurring aside, the issue of this post is people that are literally brown, like many Greeks and Sicilians or even some Southern Spaniards and Portuguese. They look brown: and by mentioning the modern Greeks in his interview together with the Englishmen Johnson seems to be using a handy doublethink to consider them white irrespective of what his very eyes are telling him.

felix_von_luschan_skin_color_chart

(Felix von Luschan’s skin color chart.)


The doublethink mentality one sees in the comments section of Counter-Currents is exactly the kind of mentality that caused the problem centuries ago. Either white skin is white; olive skin olive, and brown skin brown, and black skin black, or we have entered the world of Wonderland.

When a humble commenter like me has to remind adults all-too elemental things that any toddler can understand—like colors!—something must have gone terrible wrong within the adult mind. Anti-Nordicist nationalists cannot refute us with facts just as liberals cannot refute the hard facts of race realism advanced by the likes of Jared Taylor. Like the liberals, what nationalists do is appealing to emotional non-sequiturs as to what is “practical” from the “political viewpoint.” The paramount issue about whether it’s OK to marry and have kids with, say, a Greek that looks like a Turk is treated with the same horror of what a leftist liberal would say. The leftist would label “racist” those who abhor the idea of seeing a daughter with mulatto grandsons. Would white nationalists call “Nordicist,” a pejorative term in their mouths, someone who would abhor the idea of having a daughter with Sicilian-like grandsons? If so, what about those who the media labels as “white” in the US? Is George Zimmerman a “White Hispanic”?

“Nordicism” is the white nationalist equivalent to “racism” in the liberal mindset. It might seem incredible but the stuff written a hundred years ago by American racialists like Madison Grant was un-infected with the virus of politically correctness as white nationalism is today. See the von Luschan chart. Isn’t it a no-brainer that human “white” skin is up to, say #15? Where do non-Nordicist nationalists draw the line, in which specific number?

Even if some would grant the lighter olive skin as still Caucasian, many so-called Mediterraneans fall into the numbers twenties of the chart. Harold Covington had a hilarious point recently when he said that quite a few modern Greeks “look like Mexicans.” And I find it rather incredible that for nationalists even of the revolutionary type not even the clearly brownish colors of the chart are to be considered “brown” anymore. If theirs and Johnson’s “amnesty” is conceded to them all what is the next step? What about the so-called White Hispanics in Johnson’s own town of San Francisco? Isn’t it so obvious that the line should be drawn somewhere in the second column of the chart (together with other factors, of course, like the shape of the cranium)?

But it is useless trying to discuss the matter with Johnson because he does not answer to honest criticism. In his site he has had a history of not letting pass the comments of those who present cogent critiques to his opinions.

Johnson controversies aside, Pierce was light-years ahead from contemporary racialists. He was the true spiritual inheritor of National Socialism for the American scene. Most, though not all, white nationalists are pigmies compared to him. Who We Are was his last testament and you will probably learn more brutal truth from that book alone than pursuing the diluted racialism so fashionable today. My purpose of translating texts from the Spanish blogsite Evropa Soberana is precisely to warn English-speaking racialists about what we might call politically-correct white nationalism. It was precisely the sort of mentality that we see in this movement, if we contrast it with the purer American authors of yesterday, what led to a runaway anti-racism that is about to grant amnesty to millions of “White Hispanic” Mexicans and other non-whites in the US.

There is a strong trend of anti-Nordicism in the movement just as there’s a strong trend of anti-racism in the conservative movement. Ultimately, when compared to personalities like Grant or Pierce, white nationalists are closer to the conservatives. Here there are three must-reads that transmit the idea of why I believe that today’s anti-Nordicist movement is a dead-end:

• “White suicide in ancient Greece.” These are my excerpts from the tenth installment of Pierce’s Who We Are: A Series of Articles on the History of the White Race. It is telling that this entry has received zero comments as to date.

• “Why Rome fell.” These are my excerpts from Kemp’s appendix to his March of the Titans: The Complete History of the White Race.

• “Were the Greeks blond and blue-eyed?” Yesterday I added all of my recent entry translations on the subject to Chechar’s so that this Evropa Soberana article may be read comfortably, starting with the first entry.

Artemis

Parting word to the anti-Nordicists: Compare the so-called “Mediterranean” descendants of the Frenchwomen caught in the first pic above with the original phenotype of the handsomest ancient Greeks…

Civilisation’s “Romance and Reality”

For an introduction to these series, see here.

Below, some indented excerpts of “Romance and Reality,” the third chapter of Civilisation by Kenneth Clark, after which I offer my comments.

Originally I posted this entry on April 15 of the last year, but now that I posted another entry about Spain’s Teresa of Ávila I would like to see some feedback in the comments section about my thoughts on St. Francis from those interested in child abuse as a subject.

Ellipsis omitted between unquoted passages:

I am in the Gothic world, the world of chivalry, courtesy and romance; a world in which serious things were done with a sense of play—where even war and theology could become a sort of game; and when architecture reached a point of extravagance unequalled in history. After all the great unifying convictions of the twelfth century, High Gothic art can look fantastic and luxurious—what Marxists call conspicuous waste. And yet these centuries produced some of the greatest spirits in the human history of man, amongst them St Francis and Dante.

A couple of pages later, Clark says:

Several of the stories depicted in the [Chartres Cathedral] arches concern Old Testament heroines; and at the corner of the portico is one of the first consciously graceful women in western art. Only a very few years before, women were thought of as the squat, bad-tempered viragos that we see on the front of Winchester Cathedral: these were the women who accompanied the Norsemen to Iceland.

Now look at this embodiment of chastity, lifting her mantle, raising her hand, turning her head with a movement of self-conscious refinement that was to become mannered but here is genuinely modest. She might be Dante’s Beatrice.

There, for almost the first time in visual art, one gets a sense of human rapport between man and woman.

About the sentiment of courtly love, on the next page Clark adds that it was entirely unknown to antiquity, and that to the Romans and the Vikings it would have seemed not only absurd but unbelievable.

A ‘love match’ is almost an invention of the late eighteenth century. Medieval marriages were entirely a matter of property, and, as everybody knows, marriage without love means love without marriage.

Then I suppose one must admit that the cult of the Virgin had something to do with it. In this context it sounds rather blasphemous, but the fact remains that one often hardly knows if a medieval love lyric is addresses to the poet’s mistress or to the Virgin Mary.

For all these reasons I think it is permissible to associate the cult of ideal love with the ravishing beauty and delicacy that one finds in the madonnas of the thirteenth century. Were there ever more delicate creatures than the ladies on Gothic ivories? How gross, compared to them, are the great beauties of other woman-worshiping epochs.

When I read these pages for the first time I was surprised to discover that my tastes of women have always been, literally, medieval; especially when I studied closely the face of the woman at the right in the tapestry known as The Lady with the Unicorn, reproduced on a whole page in Clark’s book with more detail than the illustration I’ve just downloaded. I have never fancied the aggressive, Hollywood females whose images are bombarded everywhere through our degenerate media. In fact, what moves me to write are precisely David Lane’s 14 words to preserve the beauty and delicacy of the most spiritual females of the white race.

Alas, it seems that the parents did not treat their delicate daughters well enough during the Middle Ages. Clark said:

So it is all the more surprising to learn that these exquisite creatures got terribly knocked about. It must be true, because there is a manual of how to treat women—actually how to bring up daughters—by a character called the Knight of the Tower of Landry, written in 1370 and so successful that it went on being read as a sort of textbook right up to the sixteenth century—in fact and edition was published with illustrations by Dürer. In it the knight, who is known to have been an exceptionally kind man, describes how disobedient women must be beaten and starved and dragged around by the hair of the head.

And six pages later Clark speaks about the most famous Saint in the High Middle Ages, whose live I would also consider the result of parental abuse:

In the years when the portal of Chartres was being built, a rich young man named Francesco Bernadone suffered a change of heart.

One day when he had fitted himself up in his best clothes in preparation for some chivalrous campaign, he met a poor gentleman whose need seemed to be greater than his own, and gave him his cloak. That night he dreamed that he should rebuild the Celestial City. Later he gave away his possessions so liberally that his father, who was a rich businessman in the Italian town of Assisi, was moved to disown him; whereupon Francesco took off his remaining clothes and said he would possess nothing, absolutely nothing. The Bishop of Assisi hid his nakedness, and afterwards gave him a cloak; and Francesco went off the woods, singing a French song.

The next three years he spent in abject poverty, looking after lepers, who were very much in evidence in the Middle Ages, and rebuilding with his own hands (for he had taken his dream literally) abandoned churches.

He threw away his staff and his sandals and went out bare-foot onto the hills. He said that he had taken poverty for his Lady, partly because he felt that it was discourteous to be in company of anyone poorer than oneself.

From the first everyone recognised that St Francis (as we may now call him) was a religious genius—the greatest, I believe, that Europe has ever produced.

Francis died in 1226 at the age of forty-three worn out by his austerities. On his deathbed he asked forgiveness of ‘poor brother donkey, my body’ for the hardships he had made it suffer.

Those of Francis’s disciples, called Fraticelli, who clung to his doctrine of poverty were denounced as heretics and burnt at the stake. And for seven hundred years capitalism has continued to grow to its present monstrous proportions. It may seem that St Francis has had no influence at all, because even the humane reformers of the nineteenth century who sometimes invoked him did not wish to exalt or sanctify poverty but to abolish it.

St Francis is a figure of the pure Gothic time—the time of crusades and castles and of the great cathedrals. But already during the lifetime of St Francis another world was growing up, which, for better or worse, is the ancestor of our own, the world of trade and of banking, of cities full of hard-headed men whose aim in life was to grow rich without ceasing to appear respectable.

Of course, Clark could not say that Francesco’s life was a classic case of battered child. Profound studies about child abuse would only start years after the Civilisation series. Today I would say that, since Francesco never wrote a vindictive text—something unthinkable in the Middle Ages that would not appear until Kafka’s letter to his father—, he internalized the parental abuse with such violence that his asceticism took his life prematurely.

What is missing in Clark’s account is that Francesco’s father whipped him in front of all the town people after Francesco stole from his shop several rolls of cloth. After the scourging inflicted by his father, with his own hands, and public humiliation, a citizen of Assisi reminded him that the town statutes allowed the father to incarcerate the rebellious son at home. Pedro shut Francesco in a sweltering, dark warehouse where “Francesco languished without seeing the light except when his father opened the door for Pica [the mother] taking a bowl of soup and a piece of bread.” After several weeks of being locked Francesco escaped and, always fearful of his father, hid in a cave. The earliest texts add that in the cave he often wept with great fear.

Francesco then embarked on a spectacular acting out of his emotional issues with his father. He made a big scene by returning to Assisi, undressing in the town’s square in front of Bishop Guido and addressing the crowd: “Hear all ye, and understand. Until now have I called Pedro Bernadone ‘my father’. But I now give back unto him the money, over which he was vexed, and all the clothes that I have had of him, desiring to say only, ‘Our Father, which art in Heaven,’ instead of ‘My father, Pedro Bernadone.’”

To everyone’s surprise Francesco broke with his wealthy parents forever, thus renouncing any possible reconciliation. So resolute was his parental repudiation, writes a Catholic biographer, that from that day on Pedro and Pica disappear from all the biographies of their son. There is no historical evidence of reconciliation, and no information about his parents or the circumstances of their death.

But I don’t want to diminish the figure of St Francis. Quite the contrary: in my middle teens I wanted to emulate him—and precisely as a result of the abuse inflicted by my father on me. And nowadays our world that has Mammon as its real God—trade, banking and dehumanized cities that are rapidly destroying the white race—, this will always remind me what Clark said about St Francis.

Nevertheless, despite my teenage infatuation with the saintly young man of Assisi, I doubt that poor Francesco’s defence mechanism to protect his mind against his father’s betrayal could be of any help now…

The White Queen

Recently I watched the black-and-white 1935 and 1952 film adaptations of Les Misérables. But I also watched the much more recent 1998 color adaptation starring Liam Neeson, Geoffrey Rush, Uma Thurman, and Claire Danes. In Victor Hugo’s novel the revolutionist Enjolras is said to have the appearance of a good-looking ephebe, with “long fair lashes, blue eyes, hair flying in the wind, rosy cheeks, pure lips, and exquisite teeth.” Now, in this politically-correct fin de siècle adaptation, Enjolras is a nigger!

This vindicates what I recently said in “My Fair Lady”: forget recent films and see only the films that our grandparents liked. This said, once in a while there are rare exceptions. The premier episode of the first and only season of The White Queen, which was broadcast last June, is a gem.

the-white-queen

You don’t have to watch the entire season since, right on episode 2, the extremely nasty court instigations began—as most of the season is set against the backdrop of the War of the Roses: two royal houses, Lancaster and York, fighting for the throne of England. Backdrop aside, I found the very first episode absolutely inspiring. In fact, that is precisely the world that we must fight for, at least visually!

There’s a scene that lasts less than a minute when, in the gardened path leaving their home, the commoner Rivers family wears white roses to honor Edward IV. The scene, which depicted a beautiful, rather large family, elevated my spirit to the heights of my inner world (so to speak): the world I would like to create on Earth. The blond children together with their elder brothers and beautiful sisters and parents in bucolic England are the perfect embodiment of why the fourteen words must be our creed and religion.

I highly recommend renting the season and watch the very first episode: the series premiere. (The whole season on the other hand will only make you suffer because of the nasty court intrigues of the War of the Roses.)

Were the Greeks blond and blue-eyed?

– XII –

afroditaThis piece has been chosen for my collection in The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour. It has been slightly modified and presently can be read as a PDF within the book, ready for printing in your home for a comfortable reading.

Quotable quote

“We need a regime that (1) bans pornography and (2) erects statues of gorgeous naked nymphs and athletes in every public square and crossroads.”

 —Greg Johnson

Were the Greeks blond and blue-eyed?

greek_blonds

This piece has been chosen for my collection in The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour. It has been slightly modified and presently can be read as a PDF within the book, ready for printing in your home for a comfortable reading.

Sparta – X

This specific chapter of Sparta and its Law has been moved: here.

If you want to read the book Sparta and its Law from the beginning, click: here.

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