Why I am not a neonazi

The following are some of the last pages of my forthcoming book, The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour. I will include a PDF of the whole book in my next blog entry.


Virtually all white males have been feminized. This is due to the fact that they, including white nationalists, are reluctant to repudiate every single conquest of feminism—starting not only with allowing women to vote (we have seen that democracy is the worst kind of political system) but even with their “right” to inherit wealth or property. The humiliating empowerment of white women throughout the West is directly proportionate with the cretinization of white males. However, now that I reproduced my translations of a book about the prime example of polar Yang in our history, Sparta, I would like to qualify that what we need is Aristotle’s proverbial golden mean. Sparta produced the best soldiers in world history but perished because it ignored what we now know: that enslaving non-whites is fatal in the long run. What we need is the Hegelian synthesis between yang Sparta and yin Athens: a sort of modern Rome.

That is exactly what National Socialism was all about. Inspired in Rome, and let us remember the virile Roman salute, the Third Reich incorporated and eliminated—Hegel’s aufheben—the contradictions in both extremes: it was highly cultured as well as a tough military state.

I consider myself a spiritual inheritor of the Nationalist Socialist legacy. But I reject neonazism. Why? Because neonazis are basically white nationalists plus Nazi paraphernalia. We have already seen that, unlike the NS men, these groups love degenerate music, Judaized Hollywood and non-reproductive sex. Many of these décadents are also anti-Nordicists who would dismiss a command cited in the very first lesson of Stellrecht’s Faith and Action quoted in the previous page: “But if your blood has traits that will make your children unhappy and burdens to the state, then you have the heroic duty to be the last.”

It may seem hilarious to say it here but there are some neonazis in Mexico—mestizos! Some of them live their “Nazi” lifestyles under the delusion that they are whites. Of course, I have zero friends among these poor bastards. They would never consider Stellrecht’s advice for the Hitler Youth, which should apply to them far more. I confess that my only friend in Latin America is the Brazilian Larry Mars, a true believer in the fourteen words whom I have quoted in this book. Unlike the neonazis Mars does indeed believe that his duty is to be the last of his line, insofar as he concedes he is not properly white.

Mexican clowns aside, the surreal thing is that even the pure Aryans hate Nordicism. Conversely what I love about Himmler is that, precisely because he was not handsome, he admired the hyper-Nordics of a Norwegian town he visited and harbored the thought that its people could be a paradigm for the Reich. Remember Stubb’s words about white nationalists:

Not only does it [Nordicism in general and real National Socialism in particular] retrigger all the anti-racist conditioning they thought they’d gotten rid of, but it makes them ask “where does it end?” “At what point can we finally stop paying attention to each others genetic (and non-genetic) flaws?”

The answer is that it doesn’t end: that all life is struggle and hierarchy and that the Aryan race will never be perfected nor entirely freed from threats. But that’s not what they want to hear. Pierce made eugenics the core of his religious outlook as a means of protecting the eugenically-selecting society. But I see little concern for the subject among modern white nationalists. Can you imagine a racial state with a comprehensive eugenic policy which didn’t consider the reversal of mongrelization to be a major objective? [Stellrecht’s “heroic” advice] That it wouldn’t make its population look more like Swedes and less like Sicilians, as time goes on? It’s hard to do so, which is why I believe “anti-Nordicism” in white nationalism has, among other things, shut down much of the discussion on the subject.

On September 2013, in Harold Covington’s Northwest Front blogsite, several commenters subscribed politically correctness by bashing Covington in order not to offend the feelings of contemporary Greeks. A saner Northwest Front commenter said, “Those among us who don’t have the ability to look at a picture of half-Turks and tell they’re not White weren’t ever going to amount to anything on behalf of the White race.” The other side, the “revolutionary” neonazis, ignored that DNA tests have even revealed nigger genes among quite a few of the Portuguese; and we have already seen El Greco’s painting of crossbreed Spaniards as well as Pierce’s statement that “a 5 percent decline in average IQ would cause our civilization to collapse,” which applies to Sicily and Greece even before the Turkish invasion.

This cowardly lack of recognition of the very Letter A in Indo-European studies is not the only thing that annoys me about the embryonic movement known as white nationalism. Over the internet boards I find it bothersome when typical neonazis demand that I dismiss the Holocaust stories as hoax; and that if I fail to do it my morals are beyond the pale.
 
irving08-12

David Irving in 2012

As someone who has spent many years studying controversial subjects (the pseudoscience in both parapsychology and biological psychiatry), I know perfectly that you must spend at least a decade of your life trying to digest the scholarly literature of both sides of an academic debate. I am in my middle fifties now and don’t have the time nor the motivation to research the Holocaust claims and counter-claims. For me it is enough to point out that two former Holocaust revisionists, Mark Weber, the director of the Institute of Historical Review, and David Irving, the famed historian of the Third Reich, have changed their minds over the years, both accepting now that a few millions of Jews probably died during the war. According to an email of March 16, 2014 sent to me by Irving himself, his book on Herr Himmler will be released later in this year. Irving’s forthcoming book quotes historical records proving that, even though the six-million figure is an invention, a few millions of Jews probably died as a result of harsh Nazi treatments.

But I would like to go beyond the scruples of our best historian in the field. Joseph Walsh recently stated in my blogsite that “The Truth is that the glad stirrings of genocide lurk in the heart of every man, yet only the Nazis had the courage to acknowledge the Truth.” Panina, a Swede that in 2012 used to comment in my blogsite, went even further:

What is certain is that the Holocaust would not have produced any debilitating psychological effect on non-Christian whites. (By Christianity I mean “Christian morality.” Most atheists in the West are still Christian, even if they don’t believe in God or Jesus.) Being emotionally affected by the Holocaust presupposes that you think:

1) Victims and losers have intrinsically more moral value than conquerors and winners

2) Killing is the most horrendous thing a human can do

3) Killing children and women is even more horrendous

4) Every human life has the same value

None of these statements ring true to a man who rejected Christian morality. In fact, even if the Holocaust happened, I would not pity the victims or sympathize with them.

If you told the Vikings that they needed to accept Jews on their lands or give them gold coins because six million of them were exterminated in an obscure war, they would have laughed at you.

It must be comical for the Nietzscheans of the North that, unlike the monocausalism ubiquitously present in the neonazi and white nationalist movement, Himmler acknowledged other factors: “Our people’s thinking was misled by the forces of the Church, Liberalism, Bolshevism, and Jewry.” And let us never forget Hitler’s own words in one of his table talks: “The heaviest blow that ever struck humanity was the coming of Christianity.” If neonazis were true Nazis and had transvalued Christian/Neo-Christian values they would be trying to demonstrate that Himmler’s Posen Speech in 1943 is genuine, not a hoax as they claim, and even find genocidal inspiration from the speech.

Of course: they will never do it because all of them are Neo-Christian pseudo-Nazis. Speaking with a little humor I would say that neonazis, white nationalists, and American southern nationalists subscribe what we may call the Harry Potter approach to the Jewish problem. Throughout those novels for children, the female author presents us a Harry who never uses “Avara Kadavra,” the killing spell against the bad guys; Harry only uses the disarming charm, “Expelliarmus.” But only in novels and movies for kids the good guys, who never are depicted as cold assassins, can win. In real life you have to make a transition to the dark side to become a soldier.

I have read The Turner Diaries twice. When I read it for the first time, or rather listened the audio version with Pierce’s own voice, I was still struggling with the last remnants my Neo-Christian programming. I didn’t like the Breivik-like cruelties: for example the killing of an innocent black—the first killing of the novel—or the dispatching of an entire group of pro-white warriors for not taking care of the Jewish problem in Toronto. And in the novel’s Day of the Rope I was troubled by the description that many innocent young women also die. Then I read most of Covington’s Quintet and sensed a moral difference. Covington’s characters are not so bloodthirsty, not so genocidal exterminators. I could imagine myself doing the things in Covington’s novels but in the past some passages of the Diaries made me wonder…

But now that I have definitively left behind Christian axiology I can see that Pierce was ultimately right. As NS soldiers in the coming racial wars, altogether imbued in the martial qualities of gravitas and severitas, we must behave. The huge difference between the Quintet and the Diaries is that in Pierce’s world not only an ethno-state is born: in the final pages it’s described that only the white race shall inherit the Earth. In Covington’s world that is dismissed because it would mean genocide on a scale not even performed by the Bolshevik Jews. But as Pierce said in Who We Are, already cited way above:

The hard lesson taught by the different results of the European colonization of North America, Latin America, Australia, New Zealand, India, and southern Africa is that the only type of colonization with lasting significance is racial colonization; and that racial colonization can succeed only when Whites are willing and able to clear the land of non-White inhabitants and keep it clear.

This item of both Who We Are and the Diaries is so strong meat that I will elaborate on it only in Day of Wrath, a book reproducing my essays already available in The West’s Darkest Hour.


Feminist quotas in the Northwest Front

Rockwell was assassinated in 1967; Pierce died of natural death, more than thirty years later. None of them were properly white nationalists. (“White nationalism” is a term introduced in the middle 1990s for the internet.) Their worldview was much closer to the thoroughgoing Yang reaction in National Socialism against the feminizing forces of degeneracy.

Presently in the American racialist scene Harold Covington, called “The Kid” in the times of Rockwell and Pierce, is considered the most radical (“Yang”) element as ideologically he is a revolutionary, not a mere reactionary. But Covington does not believe that millions of Jews died as a result of harsh treatment by the National Socialist Germans. Unlike Panina, Walsh and a few others, he is still stuck in Neo-Christian values. (I would dare to say that the stirrings of genocide should lurk in the heart of every transvalued white, which means accepting as grim necessity what seventy years ago happened to the subversive tribe.) As already said, in Covington’s quintet the purpose is not to reconquer the whole United States for the race, but to form an ethnostate within a few Northwestern states by means of secession; leaving the rest of the US territory to the blacks, mestizos, Jews, and white traitors. In fact, in Covington’s plan the nuclear weapons of mass destruction are left in the power of the federal government of the United States!

In more than two thousand pages the plots of Covington’s quintet—The Brigade, A Distant Thunder, A Mighty Fortress, The Hill of the Ravens and Freedom’s Sons—are situated in a balkanized, anti-white and dying America until freedom fighters create an independent White Republic in a corner of the territory. In 2010 I purchased copies of the first four novels of the saga and devoured them with uttermost interest (The Brigade, which almost made me cry, contains the perfect tactics as to how to conduct a racial war in the 21st century). While I felt uncomfortable that the last pages of A Mighty Fortress featured a female director of movies in the newly created Republic, I let it pass because National Socialist Germany also allowed the career of filmmaker Leni Riefenstahl. But Riefenstahl was the exception, not the rule. In NS Germany women were generally not allowed to carry out official functions: they were excluded from positions of responsibility.

In Covington’s saga the ethnostate is clearly depicted as a self-styled National Socialist state, even during the revolutionary period before the creation of the Republic (“‘You a Nazi, sir?’ ‘I am’”—page 278 of The Hill of the Ravens; “…a lot of us are outright Nazis”—page 74 of The Brigade). And I cannot agree more with what Covington said on page 53 of A Distant Thunder, “When a race of people loses its women, it loses everything.” (This, incidentally, is what moved me to reproduce a Maxfield Parrish illustration of an ethereal nymph on the cover of this book.) On pages 187-189 of the Ravens Covington even enumerates his “Ten Principles of National Socialism,” of which I will mention a few lines:

Be Honest. A National Socialist faces a fact whether he likes it or not. Dishonesty is the mark of the enemy, who has falsified man’s conception of life, past and present. National Socialism represents the truth of life in its purest form.

Be Faithful to your Race. No one must be allowed to spoil what nature created in eons of racial evolution. Your highest purpose in life must be: to carry on that evolution toward a better, stronger more beautiful mankind. The purity of the highest race is basic requirement for ever-higher evolution.

Fight for your Race. Fight for the holy ideals of National Socialism, which is the heart of our great race.

Nothing is Impossible. Where there is a will, there is a way. Everything falls before the man of indomitable will. It is necessary for us to suffer many cruel sacrifices because we must harden ourselves for the most decisive struggle in history.

Reject Decadence. Everything must be judged in relation to the survival and improvement of your race. Anything and anyone who hinders either the existence of our race or its perfection must be rooted out and destroyed.

But Covington violated this last principle by playing decadent, rock music in some of his radio podcasts. Furthermore, in his last novel, the only one that I did not purchase (Covington kindly sent me a PDF draft of the first 452 pages of Freedom’s Sons, which I printed and read), he makes huge concessions to runaway feminism.

On page 13 for example, an order is expressed about the need to keep female soldiers out of direct combat in spite of the fact that Covington’s female characters are “as brave as lions.” Similarly, page 16 states: “A number of Nationalist soldiers wearing NDF tiger-stripes—mostly female…” On pages 18-19 a feat is described about one of these female tigresses, and on page 38 it is stated that “The new government department consisted of 342 people plus himself, about evenly split between male and female.” The most offensive line in Freedom’s Sons is found on page 50 which contains a dialogue: “A lot of Christians and general Neanderthal male chauvinist type want to go back to an all-male army.”

I confess that as a potential revolutionary I used to listen Covington’s Radio Free Northwest shows, and loved his urgent plea to invite all conscious whites to move to the Northwest corner in preparation for the civil war. However, when Covington included the voices of a couple of women in his podcasts I lost interest and stopped listening the show.

More than a year passed… Then I learnt that one of these women betrayed Covington. She flipped sides to the point of becoming anti-white, and in her website she even disclosed what happens in some “Secret Nazi Meetings” attended by the supporters of Covington: supporters who had indeed taken the trouble to move to the Northwest in preparation of Covington’s civil war.

The Old Man had violated his first principle, “Be Honest,” because a National Socialist honestly faces the biological fact that women are simply not interchangeable with men and that, in genuine NS, positions of responsibility belong to the Boys Only Club.

White nationalism is only a stone in the middle of the rapid-flowing waters of a dangerous river; an over-the-water large stone that can help us in our endeavor to jump to the other side. I myself used that flat stone in my crossing from Christianity and Liberalism to National Socialism. (In fact, I could even write down such a spiritual odyssey in a text that might be titled “From St Francis to Himmler.”)

But even accepting my metaphor that the stone is not meant to be a permanent residence let me say that, on a very generous estimate, the contents of this book are incomplete. Its intellectual content must be balanced with two more books about what really happened before, during and after the Second World War; non-fiction books that will detonate an emotional bomb in the reader’s mind:

1.- The abridged version of Alexandr Solzhenitsyn’s The Gulag Archipelago (the full version is for scholars or Russians), and:

2.- Thomas Goodrich’s Hellstorm: The Death of Nazi Germany, 1944–1947, reviewed way above.

Only after assimilating them, together with the present book, will the reader be purged from all the viruses of the mind with which the Judeo-Christian-Liberal establishment infected his soul.

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…

Heathenhank on GD crackdown

GD symbol
 
Harold:

Your views on the Greeks within the European racial paradigm is fine, but we really must understand that GD is so important because it has been the only non-marginal, successful and openly racial-nationalist movement in the Western world since the fall of Nazi Germany.

Things fall apart first in the periphery. Outposts of the empire are overrun before the barbarians are battering at the gates of Rome. Greece is a backwater to London-Washington-Tel Aviv power elite, but it clearly scares the shit out of them, as seen by the squealing propaganda pieces of the European newspapers. They know that if ever a single example of a Nation that runs on the ethos of “for the blood of the people, for the future of the children,” came to be, the entire facade of totalitarian humanism would rapidly begin to fall.

We’re kidding ourselves thinking they have “nothing to do with us.” This is a global war for European extinction, from Athens, to Oslo to Seattle. So, is not the first battle of this war more important than any other? We cannot stand aside of the battles of our European brothers today in some hope that we’ll be “saving ourselves” to fight them in our lands in the future.

(Source: here)

Published in: on October 5, 2013 at 9:47 am  Comments (5)  

Covington on GD crackdown

GD symbol
See my recent entries on Ancient Greece, “Were the Greeks blond and blue-eyed?” On today’s Radio Free Northwest podcast Harold Covington said: “These Golden-Dawn guys aren’t actually white” and that they “mostly look like Mexicans.” Covington also mentioned the obvious fact that “Greeks are olive-skin people.” Although “they are not actually niggers” they are “not completely white either.”

We need to accept that Agamemnon and the Trojan War was four thousand years ago and that modern Greeks are not completely Aryan anymore. Greece was occupied for many centuries by the Ottoman Empire and lower-class Greeks are basically Turks, or racial Levantines. Greece is a kind of Latin America country like Mexico, Ecuador and Paraguay.

All that said, Covington conceded that there’s a residual whitish minority in Greece in the upper classes (as in some Latin America countries), and that modern Greeks “have the right to defend their land” before an even darker immigration enforced by the New World Order. Covington ended his brief speech on GD stating that, despite the Greek nationalists’ willingness to play by the rules, the NWO outlawed them.

Harry Potter’s niglets


Operation Order Number Five:

“Anyone, man, woman or child
with skin the color of shit
is to be shot on sight.
They had their chance to
leave over the past five years.”

In Harold Covington’s fantasy novels, after the ethnostate was created “the theaters were showing virtually nothing made after 1965 or so,” and a technique was developed to fix a few films made from the late 1960s to the first decades of the 21st century. The technique allowed the film industry to replace black faces with white faces in those famous movies for kids that merited inclusion in the reformed theaters.

I stole the subtitles under the following images from Robert Berry, who analyzes the black student body of Hogwarts Academy in the very first of the Potter films:


HP1

This is Lee Jordan. With a good two minutes of screen-time in this movie, he’s the most prominent black character in the film. While some students focus on potions, spells, or the dark arts, Lee is apparently attending Hogwarts on a sports scholarship.



HP2

Next we have an unnamed boy whose function at the school is almost limited to giving funny looks when someone says something startling. As the closed caption excerpt shows, he at least gets a line of dialogue, which makes him the only other black character in the movie that does.



HP3

This mysterious Gryffindor Quidditch player has a few cool action scenes, and scores some points for her team, but doesn’t contribute much else after she’s knocked unconscious from her broom. Though not named in the film, the books identify her as Angelina Jordan.


HP4

The rest of the roles are merely extras. Here we have the same unnamed boy mentioned above, with two girls among the first year inductees.


HP5

And at the Hufflepuff table, if you blink, you’ll miss this
black chap talking with his buddies, near the movie’s end.



HP6

Here there are three more during a slightly chaotic
scene in the banquet hall.



HP7

And here’s a girl just waiting in the hallway,
staring at Harry mysteriously as they walk by.



HP8

The gent on the right looks like
Gary Coleman’s pal “Dudley” from Strokes!



HP9

Here’s the only appearance from this lighter skinned black
student during the “Sorting Hat” sequence at the film’s start.



HP10

And when it appeared that all the black students were a part of the Gryffindor group, a quick eye can catch two Slytherin students during the big Quidditch match.


HP11

And here’s another, but she seems to be the least enthusiastic of the bunch. Kind of hard to be too excited, I imagine, when the leader of the Aryan Nation, Draco Malfoy (the blond at the center: the bad kid of the film), is the most dominant student in the class.


HP12

Two girls that you’ll never see again in the film.


HP13

A boy who appears for this split second during the mail delivery
scene as a member of Gryffindor, only to never show up again, either.



HP14

There are a few black adults in the faculty as well. Here’s a gender neutral wizard to the right of Dumbledore in a rare shot in which candles aren’t hovering in front of her/his face.


HP15

And seated next to Professor Snape are two other black
faculty members. We never see them again, either.



The above pics come, as already said, from the first Potter film. But in that very film outside Hogwarts I remember an adult black face in the Leaky Cauldron pub, and another face with skin the color of shit in Diagon Alley.

When the producers of the series changed directors after the second Potter film, the inclusion of niglets and black adult wizards became even more apparent. The sixth film, when the characters reach full-blown adolescence, was the most offensive: a beautiful teen English rose, Ginny Weasley, one of the main characters of the series, is engaged with a black student and even kisses him passionately on the mouth.

But the perpetrator here was none other than the author herself, J. K. Rowling. Indeed, compared to Rowling’s book, in the movie comparatively little of Ginny’s relationship with the young negro is depicted.

Lefty River

Or:

On the Supreme Court & homo marriage


This is my response to Mr. Deutsch’s comment in the previous post:

Yes: at midnight I glanced thru it and the one that Matt Parrott wrote on Sebastian Ronin, and also Andrew Hamilton’s take on the Nazi film “Victory of Faith,” so I didn’t pay special attention to Greg Johnson’s article on homo marriage. He doesn’t want to say that the Supreme Court decision is a marker of how corrupt, evil and degenerate Western culture has become. He even uses Newspeak words like “gay” that I would never dare to use.

Let me put it this way:

Since the 1960s the whole Western culture, and I mean the whole Western culture including so-called conservatives, started to shift to the Left.

lefty river

Imagine a river that took a very wrong turn to the Left. Those who fancy themselves “white nationalists” are deceiving themselves, for in some way or other they are navigating that river too.

In the previous entry that features the painting about the Horatii family I stated that I would like to be a revolutionary, and that most “white nationalists” are mere reactionaries. But sometimes they’re not even genuine reactionaries who want to change the course of the river toward the Right: they simply navigate the Lefty River as many other liberals and conservatives do.

I even stopped listening to Harold Covington’s revolutionary radio shows when he introduced two women as co-speakers. You can imagine how diluted Hitler’s voice would have appeared in the 1930s had he added the voices of women during his inflammatory speeches… In other words, nowadays even revolutionaries are, in some ways, navigating that Lefty River.

To be perfectly honest, I feel uncomfortable with the female voices in the “white nationalist” blogosphere. There are some subjects (cf. the entry “Lycanthropy” in this blog) about which you cannot speak out with brutal honesty if a cute Little Red Riding Hood, however intelligent or committed to the 14 words, is present. I actually believe that a genuine white or ethno-nationalist movement should be a Boys only Club, with Little Reds in a completely separate location, as in National Socialist Germany.

Going back to Greg Johnson’s article on the recent Supreme Court ruling. I don’t see it as a specific Johnson problem. I see the big picture from above, like a pic on the river taken from the air. What Johnson did is fairly common in the “white nationalist” movement. In this Lefty River that every nationalist navigates in some ways, may I remind you that Robert Stark and Tom Sunic didn’t ask tough questions to James O’Meara during their respective interviews of this homosexualist.

No, you cannot deliver a speech like the one that Himmler delivered about faggotry if Little Reds or non-Lycanthrope males are present. Their Aryan female pity completely overwhelms their sense of morality and not even “nationalists” would tolerate sending the fags to the concentration camps. In our Empire of Yin, as Takuan Seiyo called today’s West, even pro-white activists—think of the site Alternative Right—have become so feminized, that their sense of pity is undistinguishable from that of our Fair Ladies. Compared to Commander Rockwell all of them are, in one way or another, navigating the Lefty River, increasingly distancing themselves from the Yang side of the Aryan psyche.

That’s why, as implied in my previous entries, our only hope is the convergence of currency and energy catastrophes that will wipe out both the current anti-white System and the feminized males in the movement.

My pedagogy is hard. What is weak must be hammered away. In my fortresses of the Teutonic Order a young generation will grow up before which the world will tremble. I want the young to be violent, domineering, undismayed, cruel. The young must be all these things. They must be able to bear pain. There must be nothing weak or gentle about them. The free, splendid beast of prey must once again flash from their eyes. I want my young people strong and beautiful.

That way I can create something new.

—H.V.

“Grow Stronger!”

harold_covington

Listen to the latest speech
of the Old Man (here).

Published in: on June 9, 2013 at 11:38 pm  Comments (10)  

The Old Man’s new mantra

harold_covington
“If white people had a country of our own,
this wouldn’t be happening.” —H.A. Covington


Bob Whitaker’s original mantra (“Anti-racist is a code word for anti-white”) points out a problem with the existing system, it does not point to a solution. It’s imperative that at least a portion of those whites who have already internalized the first mantra begin to visualize the only possible solution: the revolutionary scene.

Gregory Hood’s recent article on Harold Covington’s new mantra, originally published in Counter Currents but also reproduced at my addenda, explains magnificently the Old Man’s new mantra. The mantra should be digested, memorized and spread until all the fun really starts…

The Brigade excerpts, chapter I

by Harold Covington


“I’ve Had Enough of What Ain’t Right!”


Covington in uniform
“I’ll do it,” said Zack Hatfield.

“Do what?” asked his friend Charlie Washburn.

“Kill them,” said Hatfield. “I’m going to kill both of those bitches.”

The two of them were sitting on plastic-upholstered armchairs in the musty living room of Zack’s cheap furnished apartment in Astoria, Oregon. Hatfield was a tall and rangy blond man in his late 20s. His muscles were lean and ropy, and his often scowling face was prematurely seamed from working outside in the cold and the wind, at whatever temporary labor jobs he could find in his home town that hadn’t been snapped up by Mexicans.

“Yah, apparently that’s the big thing in all the feminist self-help and psychobabble books now. They call it life scheduling or some such shit,” explained Hatfield. “The first marriage is for kids, which of course she always takes with her in the divorce settlement after soaking hubby number one for every penny she can. Apparently the lesbian thing is also something every truly liberated woman is supposed to schedule now. I think all Ms. Proudfoot has to her name is a welfare check and a line of noble Native American Womyn crap.”

“Woe-men?” repeated King.

Hatfield nodded. “That’s the way fems write it. I think that’s how it’s pronounced. It’s one of those PC shibboleths the media and the intelligentsia are trying to introduce into the language and make into an accepted and then mandatory term, like the word Ms. George Orwell wrote about it in 1984. Newspeak. Mind control. Just like we have to say African-American instead of nigger. When a totalitarian society controls the language, controls the words that people use in speech, and punishes them for using any word or terminology other than the prescribed ones, eventually the whole population will be so afraid they’ll start using the politically correct terms in their very thoughts, to make sure they don’t blurt out some word that will make them lose their jobs or get them arrested for hatespeech. Anyway, your life has to be destroyed because it fits into Liddy’s life schedule, apparently. It’s all about her, of course. You’re a used component and now she’s throwing you away.”

“But if she wanted a divorce she didn’t have to do—this!” King waved his hand around at the surrounding walls and Plexiglass. “Why this?”

“To make absolutely sure that she gets Caitlin and Judy,” Hatfield replied patiently. He had explained the situation to King several times before, and so had his court-appointed attorney, but it was obvious that King simply could not yet wrap his mind around what was being done to him. “Under both the federal hatecrime laws and the Oregon Diversity and Tolerance Act, any conviction for hatecrime or hatespeech automatically terminates a convicted offender’s parental rights.”

“All for one single word?” screamed King in horror. The walls were closing in on him and he was clearly beginning to go insane. “Just because I said dyke?”

“Hey, buddy, settle down!” snapped the guard behind him. “You’re in enough trouble already! I’m a pretty laid back kind of guy, but it’s my job to make sure you don’t talk any more hateful stuff.”

Hatfield ignored him, and when King got the phone back to his ear he went on. “Martha Proudfoot claims that you made her feel threatened because of her gender, her sexual orientation, and her race. I think she claims you said dyke squaw, actually. You’re lucky the D.A. kept it in state court and so you’re only looking at five years for the speech. If they’d gone federal with it they might claim that making the Proudfoot woman feel apprehensive was an act of hatefully-motivated assault, which they can do under the statute, and then they could hit you with actual hate crime, which is mandatory life, maybe without parole if the judge thinks you actually intended to strike her.”

“Strike her?” laughed King bitterly. “My God, have you seen that creature? She’s built like a bulldozer!”

“Steve, you know that the FBI had some child psychologist and a couple of agents in the other day and they grilled the girls for four or five hours?”

“Yeah, Pritkin, my lawyer, told me about that. Caitlin is six years old! Judy is four! What in God’s name could they expect to get from children?” demanded King incredulously.

“They asked the girls if you’d ever said any bad things about black people or Hispanic people as well as gay people, that kind of crap. This thing up in Idaho last month has them really freaked out and maximum paranoid. The Marines just recaptured Coeur d’Alene a few days ago, and the feds are seeing white supremacist rebels under every bed now. They asked your girls if they’d ever seen any flags in your house. Green, white, and blue ones.”

“We can just stand by and wring our hands while Steve King’s life is destroyed, and the lives of two little girls are poisoned. We can write a letter to the editor, or maybe get drunk and call up a right-wing talk show, although we’d damned well better not say what we really think, or we’ll be up on hatespeech charges too. And it won’t save Caitlin and Judy King from being raised to hate all men of their own race.”

“Suppose we all club together whatever money we’ve got and try to hire a decent lawyer for Steve?” suggested Ekstrom.

“There’s no such thing as a decent lawyer, and even if there were, they wouldn’t stand a chance in these courts on a hatespeech case,” Zack told them. “No lawyer with enough clout to beat a hatespeech case will touch one, because of the repercussions to his own career if he does win. There is only one way. Those two bitches can’t be around to get up on a witness stand and swear his life away.”

“It’s not just about Steve,” said Washburn heavily. “It’s about Caitlin and Judy as well.”

“It’s not even about them, Charlie, not in the final analysis,” said Hatfield, shaking his head. “It’s about us. About whether we’re men or dogs.” Zack suddenly clenched his fist and roared aloud, a lifetime of rage and humiliation and contempt for the world around him welling up from his heart and his belly and his brain and bursting out of his body in an explosion.

Washburn looked at the other two men. “Me, too. I’m in. Len, I think Zack’s right. You’d best take a powder. Zack’s single and I’m divorced, and we both have crappy jobs and nothing to lose. You have a family and a business and you’ve got everything to lose. I wasn’t a Ranger like Zack, I was just a truck driver, but I remember enough of my military stint to fire a weapon. I’m sure two of us can do this. There’s no need for you to be involved.”

“I am tired of living in hell,” said Ekstrom. “I never thought that I would be ready in my own mind to kill someone. But I’m ready. At some point in time, this madness and this cruelty has to stop. For me, it stops with Steve King. They’re not going to get him. No.”

“That’s the real thing, all right,” said Zack with a sigh and a smile. “It’s taken how many years between us to reach this point? Sometimes I thought white men never would.”

“We have,” said Charlie. “Okay, Zack, you’re the ex-Ranger. You should know how to plan a double assassination. How do we go about this? What do you want Len and me to do?”

“I’ll do the planning and the actual killing. I need you two to provide an alibi, nothing more,” said Zack.

“You do realize the shit is going to hit the fan big time when two lesbians with a hatespeech case pending against a white male are murdered?” asked Charlie. “You also realize that yours is the first door Sheriff Ted Lear is going to come knocking on? He knows you and Steve have been tight since high school, plus you visited him in jail.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why I need you two guys as my alibi,” said Hatfield with a grin. “But I’ve also got a little trick up my sleeve to muddy the waters like hell. I’m going to take a magic marker with me, and I’m going to write the letters NVA [Northwest Volunteer Army] on the wall. Maybe in their blood.”

“Jesus, Zack, that will be sure to bring in the FBI!” exclaimed Washburn. “After what’s happened in Coeur d’Alene, they’re descending on the Northwest like a swarm of angry bees!”

“We see all over CNN and Fox News that the uprising in Coeur d’Alene has been crushed and it’s all over. I don’t buy that. My guess is what’s left of the real NVA is going to keep on fighting and hitting these bastards.”

He walked calmly down the empty street and turned in at the Kings’ driveway. Inside the sweat shirt, stuck into his belt was a truncated double-barreled 12-gauge shotgun. There was a battered military-surplus Hummer in the driveway sporting a number of feminist and pro-abortion bumper stickers, which Zack had learned belonged to Martha Proudfoot. There were no other cars in the driveway, which was a good sign. He had no way of knowing if Liddy King or the Proudfoot woman had become sufficiently paranoid to install an alarm system. Steve King had never used one, since this part of the Northwest was still sufficiently crime-free so it had not seemed necessary, as long as the family had Spuds the terrier to sound the alarm in case of intrusion. But with the media full of hysterical raving about evil racist terrorist conspiracies in the wake of the October rebellion in Idaho, the two lesbians might have gotten jumpy.

He pushed the door open. The chain was off, so he would not need the small pair of bolt cutters in his left back pocket. That’s a stroke of luck, he thought. They’re careless. Careless and arrogant. I’ll bet it simply never occurred to them that despite what they’re doing, anyone would dare to lift a finger to stop them. Why would it occur to them? Until a few weeks ago, no one’s ever fought back.

The little beds were empty. Thank God, he thought to himself. Caity and Judy at least won’t have nightmares about terrible sounds and boogey men in masks from this night’s work. I wonder if they will ever be able to understand why, when they grow up?

Now Hatfield stood outside the master bedroom door. He could hear low, drowsy female voices from within, talking softly and casually. There was no sign of alarm; he had been as silent as the grave. Zack pulled two rubber ear plugs out of his pocket, lifted his mask and inserted them into his ears so the noise and concussion of the heavy bore gun going off in a closed room would not damage or rupture his ear drums. He slid the hammerless shotgun out and eased the safety off; it was ready to fire. He took a long deep breath…

“You wrote those letters on the wall?” Ekstrom persisted curiously.

“I did. Don’t know when they’ll find the bodies, but when they do I promise you’ll be able to hear the Daily Astorian scream in horror all the way down to Coos Bay.”

“What happened in Coeur d’Alene has changed things. Now we know it can be done. We failed in Coeur d’Alene, but the Party hasn’t been destroyed. I know because I have been in contact with some people who escaped from Coeur d’Alene and who are still fighting, carrying on a guerrilla war to establish our own white country here in the Northwest. It’s going to be long and bloody and horrible, but we’re going to win.”

“How do you figure that?” asked Washburn curiously.

“Short answer? God is on our side,” said Zack simply. “Oooo-kaaay…” said Washburn. “And you know this, how?”

“Because of what happened in Coeur d’Alene and what happened with me tonight,” Zack explained. “These things are God’s sign to us. Not whether we won or lost, or whether I screwed up somehow and I’m in jail looking at a double murder charge this time tomorrow night. That’s not what matters. What matters is that these things happened. That we did them. God has given the white man back his courage. The courage to stand up and defy our oppressors’ laws. The courage to fight back with weapons in our hands, instead of a computer keyboard. The courage to be men again, real courage that comes from our hearts and not from a can of cheap domestic beer or a whiskey bottle. We never had that before, up until now, and that’s why white men always lost. We were ashamed of who we were. We were ashamed to be who we are.

“No more. Guys like me and the Old Man and so many others have spent all our lives begging God on our knees to just do this one little thing for us, to give us back the courage that our ancestors had, even if it’s only for one last glorious defeat, so that we can die on our feet instead of live on our knees, and exit the stage of history with our heads held high. God has answered our prayers. We have our courage back now. I don’t know how it happened, but we’ve got it back. We got ours back when we did this thing tonight, because even though I was the trigger man, you guys stepped up to the plate just as much as I did. Anyway, I’m going to meet with some people about joining the Northwest Volunteer Army.”


http://northwestfront.org/

The Brigade excerpts, chapter II

by Harold Covington


“The Trouble Trio”


Covington in uniform
“Like we’re not marked already?” snorted Washburn. “I think Lear knows damned well who did Liddy King and that plug-ugly dyke Proudfoot. He gave me a funny look when he talked to me about your night of gainful employment at the store. It’s common knowledge we’re Steve’s closest friends, and Zack’s military record isn’t exactly a secret.”

“Yah, same with me. I think he knows, all right. He just can’t prove anything,” said Len Ekstrom.

“I don’t think he wants to prove anything,” said Hatfield. “What I don’t understand is why no FBI involvement? Why no mention in the media of the letters NVA [Northwest Volunteer Army] I scrawled on the bedroom wall in dyke squaw blood?”

“Right on time. A good sign in a revolutionary.”

“How was the traffic on the bridge?” asked Hatfield. “We came down the scenic route, from Ilwaco,” replied the newcomer. “Homeland Security is starting to put closed-circuit TV cameras on bridges.”

“You know our names now, but all we know about you is you’re called Mr. Chips,” said Charlie. “Do we get code names too?”

“Eventually you’ll each have a whole collection of your own, yes,” said the Party’s man with a smile. “Mr. Chips isn’t so much a code name as it is a nickname. I used to be a schoolteacher up in Dundee, and I taught a kind of unofficial history course to certain selected white students after school, strictly extracurricular. The feds know who I am, and there’s no reason you shouldn’t. My name is Henry Morehouse, but back in the days when I had more hair, I ended up being called Red. You guys acted, on your own, and that impresses us. Zack has told me about the incident that took place here with the King woman and her beast of pleasure.”

“Uh, we gonna have to take some blood oath or something?” asked Ekstrom.

“No, not at this time,” said Morehouse. “Later the Army may find it expedient to formalize. For now, if you’re good men and true then an oath is unnecessary, and if you’re not, no oath will make you so. If I say you’re in, then you’re in.” Morehouse paused and took a sip of coffee. “The first question that I need to ask is the obvious one. Are all of you up for this? Do you fully understand just what the hell you’re doing? This isn’t a video game or a made-for-TV movie. This is the real thing. You see what’s going on in the Northwest, every time you turn on CNN. People are dying, and not just white people this time. The Beast is in a blind rage. It has been defied and it has been wounded, and it’s lashing out in all directions. You do understand that if you proceed, there is every chance that you men will end up either dead or living out the remainder of your lives in a federal prison, under conditions that don’t bear thinking about?”

“Mister, the way they’re hollering in the news media about racism and domestic terrorism, if we were even caught sitting here with you, we’d go to prison for the rest of our lives,” said Ekstrom. “We know this, and we’re still here.”

“Yeah, official paranoia is rampaging, all right,” replied Morehouse with a chuckle. “They’re starting to wake up to the fact that they didn’t get us all when they stormed into Coeur d’Alene last month, and some of us are still fighting. Fair enough. But before we get down to cases, I’d like each of you to tell me in your own words what has brought you here tonight.”

“I guess I’ll start,” said Hatfield. “I knew that time had to come, if any of us in this country had one spark of manhood left in us. We have tried everything else,” Hatfield went on grimly. “For generations we have dutifully trooped to the polls like sheep and voted in elections where we were given no meaningful choice, and where not one single candidate or party represented the white man’s racial interests. Nothing changed except the politicians grew more and more coarse and corrupt, more cynical and contemptible. We tried the internet and spent years tapping to one another on keyboards, because we bought into the idea that ‘education’ was the answer, and if we could just get the truth to people, then things would change. Well, education without action isn’t worth a bucket of warm spit. We got the truth to people, all right, and it turned out to be nothing but a bunch of noise that was simply ignored, because the internet was where it stayed. Nobody ever did anything except tap on keyboards. That was fine with the bosses. Tapping on keyboards was no threat to them, we just let off steam and nothing changed. It is now crystal clear to any white man with two brain cells to rub together that the only thing that will make these dogs in power hear the word no is the sound of gunfire.

“But I didn’t make up my mind finally until that night when I took care of Steve King’s problem for him,” Hatfield continued heavily. “I never realized just how damned good it would feel to strike back! It wasn’t like Iraq at all.”

“I know what you mean,” said Charlie Washburn with a smile. “For once, just once, the bad people didn’t win. I am just so damned sick and tired of bad people always winning all the time. But not this time. For once, just once, there was true justice and a good man and two good children will now have some kind of a chance together in life. A horrible deed committed by wicked perverts has been undone. The scales were balanced just a tiny bit back in the right direction. I feel it too, and it’s indescribable.

“But it’s more than that with me,” he went on carefully. “You know, Americans see a lot of movies and TV shows where some ordinary Joe like me is called upon to step up to the plate, so to speak, and be a hero in some way, usually fighting against the Arabs or Serbs or French or evil white racists or whoever the Jews’ main enemy of the moment is. Most of those flicks are just hokum, but in the past few months, ever since Coeur d’Alene, I’ve been feeling like that. Like I’ve gotten a call from destiny.”

“Things must change,” said Lennart Ekstrom slowly. “Every white man and woman in America knows it, deep down inside of themselves. This isn’t America anymore.”

“And that, Mr. Ekstrom, is what the white race has been waiting to hear from men like you for a hundred years,” said Morehouse with a nod. “You know that we were in a very similar situation, back before the Party was formed? The Old Man himself Came Home in 2002, but for years he simply sat all alone in a series of cracker box apartments or trailers or boarding houses, pounding on a computer that grew older and crankier as time passed. For years he looked for those out-of-state license plates to come over the hill, begging and pleading on his knees with his fellow white people to come to his side and help him, and for year after year, no one came. He asked only for a hundred good men, or women. One hundred people who were willing to place the future of their blood and their civilization over their own personal welfare. And for year after year, no one came.”

“And then what happened?” asked Ekstrom.

“Then they came,” replied Morehouse simply. “We refer to this among ourselves as The Awakening, and we still don’t understand it fully. Don’t get me wrong when I say this, because we’re not a religious movement, rather the reverse in fact. But the best and most comprehensible way that I can put this, is that it had to be some kind of divine intervention. God decided to give His most wonderful and yet wayward children one final break before He threw the white race onto the scrap heap of history. He reached into the hearts of one hundred people and moved them, changed them, so that they let the scales fall from their eyes and they knew they had to put something above their own well-being; that they had to live for something besides a job and a paycheck and a shopping spree at the mall. One day it just kind of began, and one hundred people stopped worrying about themselves and went out and began packing the moving van. The Old Man had his first hundred, and they became the nucleus of the Party that was formed when they came to the Homeland and were in place. Without that first hundred people, there could have been no Party, because it was they who set up the infrastructure and the safety net so the rest of the migrants would have something to Come Home to.”

“We’re going to need more than a hundred men now,” said Washburn gloomily.

“They will come,” said Morehouse with quiet confidence. “They came before. Damned late, but they came. Very well. Let’s get on with it.” He knocked back the rest of his coffee, put down the mug, and leaned forward to speak to them. “We are here to make history, gentlemen. We are here to plan and execute the first organized, armed insurrection against the United States of America since 1861.”

“I’m in,” said Hatfield.

“I’m in,” said Washburn.

“And I,” said Ekstrom.

“Gentlemen, you just swore your blood oath. Make sure you honor it all the days of your lives,” said Red softly.

“I look back at all the crap our people have put up with over the past century and I am still astonished that we never picked up a gun before,” said Washburn plaintively. “Why the hell has the white man never fought?”

“Oh, God,” said Morehouse with a sigh. “Some of us have spent our entire lifetimes studying that one simple question, Charlie, and I have to say we’re no closer to an answer than we were at the beginning. There are a few standard, canned answers, of course. Up until the past couple of decades, most white people simply had it too good. Life was just too damned sweet, and all the bullshit caused by liberal democracy and political correctness didn’t seem to be really life-threatening, just more and more annoying as time wore on. When men are merely annoyed, they write letters to the editor, or phone a radio talk show, or bitch and gripe drunkenly in bars about how the world is going to hell. They don’t pick up a rifle or start making bombs in their basement. And of course, up until about twenty years ago, if things got too bad where you were living, then you could just up stakes and move to the suburbs, or some other state that was a little whiter.

“Liberals are always the first to flee from the messes they make. Usually, they’re the only ones who can afford to do so. Anyway, liberalism and political correctness have gone beyond the merely annoying phase for a long time now. Things have been getting colder and crueler for white people. Medicare. The drawbacks of our wonderful democracy have become quite apparent to those of us who find ourselves living in the northernmost province of Mexico. They can’t sweep all the problems under the rug anymore. They’re too visible and obvious, and no one has any money left to run to the suburbs.”

“But that still hasn’t produced anything other than an army of white people hollering on talk radio and then trooping in to the polls on election day to vote Republican,” complained Ekstrom. “What the hell was wrong with us back in the 60s and 70s? Or even earlier? Why didn’t we fight?”

“Perhaps the more pertinent question, Len, would be why are we fighting now?” asked Morehouse. But it’s more complicated than that. White American males are still capable of being physically brave, sure they are. They prove it every day on the battlefield. Every week you can see some story on the tube about a white cop who faces down a pack of gang-bangers or a white fireman who pulls kids out of a burning building, and then you get these extreme sports kooks who jump out of airplanes with snowboards and try to surf down Mount Everest, or snorkel butt naked in a school of sharks, that kind of nonsense.”

“God knows I saw enough Aryan heroism every day in Iraq,” said Hatfield. “White men will still be as brave as lions, granted, but only for the Jews or for their money, Red. When it comes to standing up and fighting for ourselves, against the Jews and the government that’s tyrannizing us, all of a sudden we wuss out.”

“Mmmmm, here’s where it gets complex, Zack,” said Red contemplatively. What we can’t seem to do is to be brave on our own, for our own interests, without the Jewish seal of approval. We have developed a poisonous symbiosis with the system. We can be brave in a structured environment, so long as it is an officially approved form of courage.

You might say the Jew has succeeded in domesticating the Aryan. We can be brave and good dogs so long as we hear the reassuring sound of our master’s voice and get the occasional doggie treat from his hands, but we can’t be lone wolves anymore. We didn’t fight, Charlie, up until now, because for a century or so we have no longer been wolves, but dogs. The Jew domesticated us. But now we must hear the call of the wild again. We have to find that spirit of the wolf once more within us, and bite the hand that feeds us. And I suppose I’d better abandon that simile before I stretch it into a pretzel. But you get what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, I do,” said Zack with a sigh. “And that poisonous symbiosis between the American white male and the system is still very much with us, an ingrained part of us. How many guys are going to be able to break out of it? Those are going to be pretty rare birds.”

“Well, maybe not so rare,” said Red with a smile and a swirl of smoke. “Once that first hundred stepped forward, it wasn’t so hard for others to do so, because more and more, when they came here they found a crowd to hide in. It was getting that first hundred to go first that was the real bitch. We will be the tiny lion against the enormous snake, but the serpent is old and sick and dying, poisoned with its own crapulence.”

“The movement has always had to deal with this defeatist and paranoid belief that if we ever really tried anything, the might of the Army and the Marines would simply crush us,” said Hatfield.

“You would think that maintaining the territorial integrity of the United States would be the régime’s first priority, but it won’t be,” agreed Morehouse. “With the growing world fuel shortage, oil is frankly more important than land, and will become more so. After all, the Northwest has no oil, other than Alaska, which is a separate problem. The Army Council’s strategic assessment is that initially, at least, there will be only a small actual military commitment against us, if any. They won’t take us seriously. Wishful thinking on their part: they desperately won’t want to take us seriously. The idea that white boys would actually revolt against them boggles their minds too much. They’re not going to be sending B-52s to bomb Seattle or landing the Third Marine Division in Astoria. What would that accomplish against small bands of guerrillas who will simply melt away in the face of overwhelming force, and then strike where the underbelly is soft? I think they’ve learned at least that much in Iraq and Iran. It won’t be that type of war.

“No, they’ll try to treat us as a crime problem at first,” Morehouse went on, the three of them leaning forward intently to listen. “Our enemies on the ground will consist of a hodge-podge of local police, National Guard reservists, FBI and BATFE, Homeland Security and other enemy paramilitaries, and eventually probably some SWAT-type special units. Of course, ideally speaking, it should never come to a full-blown shootout. We live light, we move light, we hit hard, and then we vanish before they can bring their superior force to bear. Classic guerrilla tactics.”

“So how many men do you think we will need in the NVA to get the job done?” asked Ekstrom again.

Morehouse puffed his pipe meditatively. “We should be able effectively to terminate federal control over three Northwestern states and maybe more territory as well, if we can maintain a force in the field of approximately one thousand men.”

“Overthrow the United States government with a thousand men?” demanded Washburn in skeptical amazement. “Bullshit!”

“I didn’t say overthrow the United States government,” Morehouse corrected him. “I said effectively terminate federal control and authority in three large Northwestern states, which is not the same thing.”

“How?” asked Ekstrom.

“By hitting the enemy hard and often, in teams or crews of two to five or six people max. Let’s assume an average of five Volunteers per squad or crew. Our thousand effectives will make up two hundred such crews. Assume half of them are involved in support duties, supply, intelligence, medical services, propaganda, whatnot. That’s one hundred combat teams of five guys each remaining, who are actually pulling triggers and making things go boom. Imagine each of those crews striking the enemy on an average of once per day, all across the Northwest. Remember, one of the main reasons we migrated and we’re restricting our campaign to this corner of the country is to reduce the problem to manageable proportions. Let’s assume an average of a single dead enemy of one kind or another per attack. That’s 100 people per day being killed in one three-state area, with concomitant damage to enemy property, infrastructure, and damage to his morale, his public image, and thereby his capacity to govern. Their armies are designed to fight Star Wars, but we won’t be fighting Star Wars. We’ll be fighting Godfather style.” Morehouse knocked out his pipe onto the concrete floor, and then went on.

“In Vietnam, in Iraq, in Iran and Afghanistan, ZOG had every gadget and deadly toy human ingenuity could devise, computerized and covered with bright shiny lights. But they never found a way to beat the little barefoot brown man, dressed in rags and armed with an AK- 47 and a couple of magazines of ammo, and a heart that would never surrender. The human heart and the human spirit can beat their machines, gentlemen. The human heart and the human spirit can beat their money. The human heart can beat their lying media.”

“That’s if we can find the kind of political soldiers necessary for that kind of warfare,” Hatfield reminded them. “The guys with the cool head and the iron nerve and the ice water in their veins.”

“You got it,” agreed Morehouse with a nod. “I can outline for you a structure for a revolutionary armed force. I cannot turn mere white males into white men once again, men that our ancestors would have recognized. That we must somehow do for ourselves, by finding within ourselves that last dying spark of pride and honor and courage that has always distinguished us for thousands of years.”

“You think these bastards will give in no matter how many people we kill?” asked Washburn. “Iraq and Afghanistan are very far away, something people read about over their morning coffee or watch on CNN. We will be striking at the very core of their power, right here on what they consider their home turf. Can they psychologically bring themselves to admit defeat even if we beat them?”

“This is another reason why we are not being so foolish as to try this in all 50 states. What we’re going to be doing, Charlie, is we’re going to be fighting a classical colonial war,” Morehouse told him. “There are rules for fighting a successful colonial war, and they have come into play dozens of times over the last century, from Ireland to Africa. We’re not trying to take their whole loaf from ZOG. Of course, they’d resist that to the death. Such a guerrilla war across all of America would last for generations, and anything we could salvage after such a conflict probably wouldn’t be worth living in anyway. Nor could we win it. For one thing, we’d have to slaughter over one hundred million non-whites, or drive them back south of the Rio Grande in the most massive refugee wave ever seen, and that simply isn’t feasible with what we have or what we are likely to get.

“With our thousand or so people—and by the way, there will almost certainly be more than that as our insurgency grows—anyway, what we can do is to make these three states of Washington, Oregon, and Idaho and maybe parts of Montana and northern California completely ungovernable. We can stop the United States from reaping any profit or income from this territory, and we can turn it into one gigantic black hole sucking in men, resources, time, effort, and above all money. Gentlemen, there is a truth to fighting and winning a colonial war that I want all of you to burn into your brains, because it is the key to our victory. In a colonial war, the generals never surrender! The accountants surrender! What we have to do is to confront the United States with a situation where as bad and as humiliating as it will be to let the Northwest go and let white people have their own country, the continuation of the guerrilla war is no longer an option for them. We can win this, comrades,” concluded Morehouse decisively. “We can beat the God Almighty United States of America, kick their stinking rotten asses right out of here, and take this land for ourselves and our children. But only if we have the stomach for it.”

There was a long moment of silence. “Let’s get started, then,” said Hatfield.

“Right,” said Morehouse, filling his pipe again. “Okay, you’ve already got the basics here. You’ve got three men. In this room you’ve already got your first Trouble Trio.”

“Say what?” asked Charlie.

“The basic building block of the NVA company,” said Morehouse. “A three-man team. When we were planning all this out, studying and analyzing how previous successful revolutionary movements worked in Western political and social environments similar to ours, we came up with a kind of hybrid anatomy combining the IRA and the Cosa Nostra, two highly successful subversive outfits who to this day have never been completely repressed by their governments. You’d be amazed how much hell three men can raise in a society this complex, this racially volatile and unstable.

“Go ahead,” Hatfield urged him.

Morehouse lit his pipe again. “You start with three people as I said, all of whom must have the requisite qualities of courage, resourcefulness, loyalty, and fanatic dedication. That’s the hard part, finding the right men and women for this. Each of these threes will be the nucleus of a company. I know it sounds ridiculous to call three people a company, but there will be more of you, and what we want is a structure that we can maintain right up until the end, when we will make the transformation from a guerrilla insurgency to become a proper national army. During our initial underground phase, the NVA is not an ordinary army where units are supposed to have some kind of set strength or function. We are as fluid as a lava lamp, always changing shape and bobbing around. Each company needs to be free floating, capable of conducting operations indefinitely on its own, even if it is totally cut off from the rest of the movement, and eventually regenerating itself and growing, adding more cells, like an amoeba.

“Each company will be part of a larger unit called a brigade,” Mr. Chips continued. “The next unit up from a company in most armies is actually the battalion, but we’re not going to create any of those until necessary and until we’ve got the bodies. The brigade will be the main operational combat unit of the Northwest Volunteer Army, responsible for taking on ZOG within a roughly defined operational area. Each brigade will report to and be directed by the Army Council in the person of one or more political officers.”

“So the political officer actually commands the brigade?” asked Charlie.

“No. He’s strictly a liaison who acts as a communications conduit between the brigade commander and the central organization.”

“Got it,” said Charlie. “I’m a state forestry employee and I have an official truck and uniform and ID, so I can be seen pretty much anywhere and have a good reason for being there that won’t cause comment.”

“That’s ideal,” said Morehouse with a nod. “Now, one of the first things you will need to do is recruit more Volunteers. This will be the most potentially dangerous of all the things you do. Make a mistake and try to bring in the wrong man, and you’ve compromised the whole company. Make a bigger mistake and actually bring the wrong man in, and you will either die or spend the rest of your lives being sodomized by niggers in the prison shower. Your first duty will of course be to clear this North Shore area of all enemy forces and non-whites.”

“Define enemy forces,” requested Hatfield.

“Anyone who is part of the federal apparatus of control and enforcement, or who assists in maintaining the Zionist occupation, or who gives aid and comfort to the régime,” Morehouse explained. “Military personnel, of course. FBI and Homeland Security agents, obviously. Certain local police but not all; that’s a special problem I’ll go over with you later. Some of the cops will be on our side, or at least willing to stand aside and let us get on with it. State and federal judges and anyone to do with the court system, and all lawyers. Federal bureaucrats of any kind, but especially anyone to do with the IRS or revenue collection. One of the keystones of our strategy is that from now on, not one more dime we can prevent goes to Washington, D.C. from the Pacific Northwest. Elements in the media and the civilian population who actively support the régime or propagandize for it. And of course, anyone with skin the color of shit is henceforth persona non grata in the Northwest. Believe me, Zack, you won’t lack for targets. Basically, your job is to make sure that from Beaverton on down the river to the sea, ZOG’s writ doesn’t run anymore.”

“That’s a mighty big stretch of territory,” commented Ekstrom with a frown.

“Yes, but the potential is immense,” replied Morehouse with a smile. “I don’t know if it’s hit you guys yet, but you’re sitting right in the middle of perfect guerrilla country here. Huge expanses of heavy forest, mountains and ravines where you could hide an army. The whole area a backwater that the feds won’t want to expend much on in the way of effort or manpower, because their main fight will be in the cities.”

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