Extermination • I

Or:

Second thoughts about my “parting word”

 

I was serious last July when I wrote that I would not add more posts to this page until the financial accident happens. But another sort of accident happened to me that ruined my plans (see below), and instead of making a living overseas I find myself writing again.

In the July message I also said that I would “be busy explaining my minority report.” Well, I have started that autobiographical book in my native language. Its first translated pages are precisely the ones that appear below:
 

 

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To the memory of Percy

 

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LibroOn August 4, 2014 I arrived to London in the hope of moving to a small town in the United Kingdom in order to save my life once Mexico City catches fire after the looming collapse of the dollar.

One of the smartest commenters on my blog, whom I will call “the Brazilian,” had promised, through his contacts, forged work permit so I could look for a job in England. Throughout the two years I interacted with him in the blog and then thru personal communications, this guy reiterated that he wanted to help me to move there, and when in early 2014 he indeed moved to England I thought his plans were sincere.

The man is the result of a mixture between the races of his homeland, Brazil. He himself confessed publicly that his ancestors were Iberians, blacks and mestizos. Thus in order he did not feel self-conscious with me, I told him that I was not properly white.

Later in this chapter I will talk about some “Creole nationalists”—Mexicans that show off their Iberian roots and claim to have no drop of Indian blood—with whom I interacted in Mexico. The Brazilian’s intelligence had so impressed me that I told these Creole nationalists that my Brazilian, “mulatto friend has an IQ of 140.” Moreover, in my intimate soliloquies I said, more than once, that the level of penetration of the Brazilian on important issues to understand the darkest hour in Occident amazed me. I even told to myself that an “upward quantum leap” was crystal-clear when comparing the Brazilian to the vast majority of Aryan commenters visiting my site. No one like him had captured perfectly the disaster that represented Christianity for the white race, to the extent that—like me—the Brazilian considered it a more serious problem that the Jewish problem itself. Even his derogatory remarks about the philosophers sounded to my ears far above the intellectual masturbation we read in some sophisticated pro-white sites in the internet.

The Brazilian’s intellectual acumen, along with my huge need to escape Mexico, made my defenses down and I trusted him to the extent of deferring to his judgment my first steps to immigrate. I refer not only to the steps to obtain forged documents but also to roommate concerns. (London is so expensive that almost everyone shares their departments and the poorest even their rooms.) Although, as we shall see later in Extermination, thirty-two years before I had a horrible experience in London at a time when I also wanted to escape from Mexico, this time I thought that with such smart colleague our plans could not fail. The Brazilian even offered to pick me up at Heathrow Airport outside London; by telephone he informed me that he would not go to work the Monday I arrived to pick me up.

I thanked him and my flight arrived on time. After exiting from the immigration line, where obviously I hid the British woman who interrogated me that the purpose of my trip was to immigrate, I was surprised that the Brazilian was not there. I waited about twenty minutes at Terminal 4, the specific spot of international arrivals I had mentioned to the colleague, but no sign of him. After half hour he hadn’t come. Nor forty or fifty minutes after arriving at the terminal… I had virtually not slept due to my inability to sleep sitting on the plane and I badly needed to leave the soulless airport lounge and go to the hotel I had booked and even paid from Mexico. But the Brazilian did not appear. With the heavy suitcase I carried—suitcase to emigrate, not for tourism—I could not even move at ease in the terminal. I made a change in coins from a fiver to call the Brazilian’s mobile phone. What was my surprise that he wasn’t at the airport; just on his way, and he claimed he was “about to arrive.” I stopped worrying. But time continued to pass, and more than an hour-and-a-half after my arrival at the agreed terminal, he did not appear. I was hesitant to make extra phone calls because the airport’s phone had swallowed one or two of my pound coins but tried calling. This second time his tone was less friendly, “I’m almost there!” It must have been about two to three hours after the plane landed that the Brazilian finally appeared, without apologizing for the delay.

I wish to stop now and don’t recount the misadventure of that day because it makes me mad that I trusted someone whom I had never met in the real world, but I shall keep writing…

Having been so much delayed would be only the first lack of consideration by the Brazilian to a man more than twenty years his elder, who had arrived sleepless from a transatlantic voyage. After greeting each other, the Brazilian convinced me that the taxi would be very expensive and that we better take the subway to my hotel. Once in the tube, as it is called the narrow subway in London, we had to transship over more than once the various lines en route to the hotel, always carrying my heavy suitcase up awful stairs during the transfers. When we got off from a train among the London crowd for one of these transfers, the Brazilian asked me to wait because he wanted to buy something in the store just across the tracks. He climbed the stairs, walked into the shop, came out and smiled at me before… getting out into the street.

I was completely flabbergasted! If such a thing happened to me in my right mind, not in the confused state I was, I would have acted differently. But I was at the mercy of a bloke that—allegedly—would solve my migration problems. He was the only contact I knew in London for a (crooked) work permit. As he had already been delayed at the airport without a good reason or having apologized, had I been in my right mind when he went off the street I would have told him to get lost; fled by taxi to my hotel, and would have sought a more reliable contact the following days (say, through Spanish-speaking restaurants). But without sleep as I was, with great anxiety I remained on the tube station watching the largest racial melting pot of Europe (nowadays London has white minority).

The Brazilian should have taken about thirty-five minutes to arrive, or more, since he left and only then I realized that he had not found what he wanted at the front shop; that’s why he looked it out on the street. Hours later I discovered it were beers what the miscreant had bought, who had cared a damn that his fellow blogger (the Brazilian used to maintain a blog about “racial realism” in Portuguese) remained stranded with his heavy suitcase wondering what the hell had happened.

As I said, it makes me mad to tell this because I did not react as I should. The fact that I did not possess work permit and that the Brazilian had the handle for the grill not only for it, but to get me affordable accommodation—according to him he already had reserved one—played a psychological role in my indecision to make a clean break after the second or third discourtesy. Anyway, when he came laughing and said, “What did you think: that this crazy Brazilian had abandoned you?” I hid my feelings and continued the underground journey to the hotel.

It was during another transfer, now closer to the hotel and where we had to go outside to take another train (I think it was the street where he showed me the tallest building in Europe) that the Brazilian asked me something. He said that instead of going to my hotel, why not accompanying him to the slum hostel where he was living these days. They only charged £60 per week and although his roommates were black—that is, three blacks slept in a single room, beside the Brazilian—, it was only for a week while the better place he had reserved for us would be vacating. The Brazilian had a small back suitcase containing his laptop. He dared not leave it in the hostel with such hosts and carried it every time he went out.

Go figure my dear readers… All of my travel strategy had been based on a bloke that, now I realized, was on the verge of homelessness as he had to carry his belongings in the street for fear of loosing them in a “hostel” without lockers. Had I not been so obfuscated by the turn of events I would have stopped dry the adventure that very instant. But cognitively I was not well. In fact, I was completely alienated. True: I had prepared with extreme meticulousness everything left in Mexico—my library, my manuscripts in ring-binders and envelopes sealed against moisture (I thought I wouldn’t be back in years), the taking care of my pet and even a big farewell party for all believed I would leave for good—, but about my stay in England I had deferred all planning to “the mulatto of 140 of IQ.”

What a mistake. It was not until my return to Mexico, when I told the details of my misadventure to my old friend Paulina, that I noticed things that a man usually cannot see. Pau listened carefully and explained that men tend to admire intelligence at the expense of the other facet of the human psyche: empathy. I knew that in the white nationalist movement there were people with terrible character flaws. But the fact that the Brazilian seemed a hybrid between mestizo and mulatto was no reason to distrust him, as he believes in the “fourteen words” to the extent of having promised not to leave offspring. (Remember the first lesson to the Hitler Youth of Faith and Action by Helmut Stellrecht: “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.”)

Unfortunately, character flaws can be hidden over the internet. And as in Mexico I only had considered the intellectual aspect of this bloke—a “hemiplegia” of mine, so to speak instead of having delved into the two facets of the person—, in a state of complete cognitive alienation to what was happening I agreed to his idea to abort the journey to my hotel and go to his hostel.

I would lie if I lay the blame at the Brazilian. Now that I’m out of the UK I find it obvious that the planning of my trip was grotesque, to say the least. “The drowning will grab at straws,” and the urgency of leaving a Neanderthalesque Mexico and survive the dollar collapse was such that I put aside from my consciousness basic matters I should have contemplated at my age, before venturing on another continent.

The journey to the hostel was not underground but from the outside, traveling in one of those red double-decker Routemaster buses so showy in London. And still there came the miscreant character of he whom I had placed my most cherished hopes. Throughout the journey in the underground and on the outside of the biggest city in Europe—a crossing that, due to change of plans, had already lasted more than two hours after leaving the airport—the Brazilian had never been solicitous in helping me with my heavy suitcase. Now, in the red double-decker bus, he swiftly climbed to the second floor and asked me repeatedly to go upstairs with him! It was then for the first time, that I showed some self-respect by refusing to come up with my heavy suitcase. During that second-long journey—remember that by aborting the way to the hotel we now were going to a very different address—we still had to make another transfer, but this time from bus to bus. We descended into a densely populated and very noisy area of London; streets swarmed with lots of blacks. To my surprise, the Brazilian told me to wait because he was going to find a toilet.

Lo and behold I was once again alone among human swarms with my heavy suitcase and no sleep! (Later, when I learned that the first time he left he had gone to buy beer, I connected the dots and realized that it was urgent for him to urinate the ingested alcohol.) In that hideous swarthy-filled street, and carrying something less than £2,000 in cash along with my credit cards, a black approached me. I didn’t understand a word. Scared and carrying the heavy suitcase I entered a grocery store but the attendants were not white either. My anxiety was very obvious until the Brazilian reappeared and we boarded the final bus that would take us to our destination.

Unlike the noisy subway, on the red bus it was possible to talk. At last we initiated conversation on topics that fascinate me. I told him that I had seen some mixed couples in London and was greatly surprised that there were so many blacks. He replied that it was a punishment to the English for having waged war against Germany, and added that Nazi Germany was by far the noblest creature that European history had produced. Then he said he did not understand how Americans like Matt Parrott insist on mixing the unmixable: Christianity with white nationalism.

It was not until we reached his quarters that I received the biggest shock of the trip. It’s true that in 1982 I had spent a night in London in a spacious room of a Youth Hostel; a room with many beds. But back then they were all European Aryans; I, the only foreigner. I was twenty-four and, coming from Mexico, was amazed at how good looking some of those English were (in the country where I was born almost all seemed Neanderthals to me). But now I was in 2014, and the all-encompassing social engineering of the British elites in recent decades, that is, replacement of the native race by imported race, had been a success. The Brazilian’s room was not spacious as the hostel I had slept decades ago. It was of regular size with the most miserable niggers you might think of. In fact, in no way it resembled a hostel but one of those trash-people rooms subsidized by charities for the homeless in large metropolis. But they were not homeless: they were blacks surviving, I suppose, from the same type of underemployment of the Brazilian.

I barely saw the spectacle and wanted to run away. On the street the Brazilian insisted that I should pay the £60 for the week. It was already night and he claimed he was tired and that we should think things over the next day. I didn’t know what to do. I had to cancel the hotel reservation so that it was not charged to my American Express, but there were no public telephones in the neighborhood. I tried to get information in a grocery store that opened at night, but they were immigrants who hardly knew English and were unaware of the dynamics of the big city. Not even the Brazilian could tell me what was, in England, the telephone equivalent to 911 so that, through his cell phone, I could make a call. The Brazilian kept insisting me to pay the £60, as the “hostel” never receives one-night payment, only a full week; and said I should forget my worries until the next day. (Take into account that with those £60 I could have spent a single night in a modest hotel, even after losing my reservation.) Still arguing in the street, the Brazilian, speaking in a serious tone, argued that he was tired; ignoring that it was me who had not slept the night before, and insisted to forget the matter of seeking hotel or making emergency phone calls.

As there was no one to help me, not even a taxi to get on in those streets, and as I was worried that in that colored neighborhood I could be assaulted and my money taken away (for my heavy suitcase I was an obvious target), I agreed. I reentered the “hostel,” paid the administrator of the slum the £60 he demanded, and walked into to the room of blacks and the mulatto Brazilian.

But I could not sleep… Although I had not slept the night before I was in a state of extreme anxiety.

I went out to the hostel’s terrace and finally I saw a white man. He was also an immigrant. He didn’t have fluent English and told me he was from Romania. As it had happened to me decades ago in the same city, as I newly arrived from Neanderthalesque lands I was pleasantly surprised by the looks of the blond Romanian. I spoke with him in the fresh night but not for long. He was not very smart and I also felt a little cold in the outdoors terrace. (I had left the plane with my jacket, shirt and dress pants but had not changed my clothes; one of the blacks that tried to sleep in the dirty room, where my cloths were, had warned me not turn the light on.) Apparently the Brazilian also failed to reconcile sleep and after sighting me in the terrace he went to the kitchen to talk at length with a muscular black returning from the gym. The Brazilian informed me that to survive in such place—go figure, myself in formalwear with the downtrodden—, one had to learn to converse amiably with the dark-skinned. The long conversation of the Brazilian with the huge black gave the lie to the claim that he was too tired to help me make an urgent phone-call.

I don’t remember the exact moment when the Brazilian told me that the police had arrested his contact—the very contact that was supposed to get me the papers. He did not say whether he had been arrested the day before or the day I arrived at Heathrow. But I doubt that, if the story is true, it was such a recent event. Chances are that the arrest had occurred long before—which means that the Brazilian had not warned me on time, when I was in Mexico. Had I been informed on time I would have aborted any plan to cross the Atlantic!

The events yelled at me that the trip had been in vain. By not having warned me in time of the arrest the Brazilian had committed a trick of confidence. However, even though that day the Brazilian confessed that he was desperately seeking a decent roommate, I failed to suspect that behind his convincing me to come to London a sinister motive was hiding. The crux of his confession was that his old roommate was a black homosexual whose conduct had caused the Brazilian to flee from there and move to the seedy hostel (where we were now).

I am ashamed to say that even with all this novel information I was slow to connect the dots that such insistence that I go London had not been motivated to help me, the word he used several times but to help himself in his problems with blacks. The underlying motivation of Brazilian seemed to be: “Unlike this nigger, blogger César, who comes from an educated family and whose parents have three pianos at home and five servants, will be my personal savior.”

Such naiveté!: In Mexico I had only imagined a Brazilian full of honor, insofar he vehemently insisted he did not plan to reproduce even after finding a woman in England (remember the wise counsel of Helmut Stellrecht for non-whites). But in London he told me that even before his “racial awakening”—something unheard of in a man of color—he had come to the firm conclusion that he would not leave descendants in Brazil. It was not until I assimilated even more painful confessions than that of the “gay nigger”—for example, that the day prior to my arrival the Brazilian had been wandering at London’s downtown because he could not remember where he lived, and that he drank alcohol to cope with his pathetic life—that I began to glimpse who he really was.

The trip had been a fraud. My purpose had never been crossing the ocean to help a mulatoid fellow to find a roommate—but looking sanctuary for me in a small English village with no coloreds to survive the dollar collapse! He who so much boasted to know something of human psychology had been duped like a child…! Nothing had I suspected of the motives of Brazilian: trying to use me to solve his problem and, therefore, the understandable lack to timely notify me about the “arrest.”

But back to my sleepless night.

My mattress had no sheets. I had no choice but to put my white skin in contact with a mattress that must have suffered a thousand sweats from blacks. Even in such conditions I tried to sleep with the four darks of the room. My anxieties and a disagreeable negress snoring inches from me on the top bunk—the pseudohostel was so abhorrent that not only races mixed, but the very sexes too—didn’t let me sleep…

But with the dawn I regained my senses. In the morning, with several guests already waking up on the terrace, including some I had not seen the previous evening, the Brazilian insisted I opened a bank account and said that another of his contacts worked in a bank (by law, tourists cannot open accounts in the UK). Perhaps that employee even knew, the Brazilian told me, another person to obtain work permit.

But I had lost confidence in him. The second night of consecutive sleeplessness I had talked to another night bird, Stuart, who lived there in another room and used to talk to the Romanian during the evenings on the terrace. His accent was not British. Stuart was born in Scotland and raised in New Orleans. As the Brazilian, Stuart had been so badly beaten by life that he had fallen to the pseudohostel. We spoke of my racial ideas and this young man conceded that in New Orleans blacks had behaved very poorly during hurricane Katrina. He was not bothered, though somewhat surprised, about my overtly racist worldview and I asked him what was the whitest city in Scotland. He said that Perth and his hometown, Dundee. He added that the beautiful town of Perth was ideal for retirees (i.e., for people like me had I arrived with the proper funds to buy a modest house).

I made my decision. That morning I was not going to endure a single minute of a “hostel” which did not even have showers for bathing. The blacks woke up and put their filthy music we all heard over the terrace. I told the Brazilian that I would go to Scotland. He was surprised but, by seeing my resolution, walked along with me to the outskirts of the metro station. We said goodbye and never met again.

I still struggled that day to reach Perth. It was not the Victoria Station that the Brazilian had suggested but the famous King’s Cross the one which would take me to the far north: the very one where they had filmed the movies of the magical station in Harry Potter. My flight had been so hurried that already going on my train to Scotland I had to ask one of the uniformed train attendants if Perth was large enough to house hotels. By fleeing multiracial London and the nightmarish underworld of the Brazilian I hadn’t had time to make the most basic inquiries! (the hostel didn’t have Wifi access). Although nearly all uniformed workers in train stations were black, I approached an Anglo-Saxon woman who informed me that there were hotels there. However, still dying of tiredness I was unable to sleep sitting up and had to wait six more hours to reach my destination.

When I arrived to Perth the tourist information center was closed, but the taxi driver of the terminal, a typical Scot, was extremely helpful in taking me to the cheapest places he knew. We went to Dunkeld Road not far from the station, and the Scot awaited me several times while I knocked the doors of various guesthouses. As it was midsummer the signs were saying “No vacancy” but in one of the houses, Connie, the Irish woman who received guests in Clark Kimberly Guest House, admitted me gladly. Having no reservation I had to rent an expensive room with double bed.

But it didn’t matter. That night I slept placidly after so long. At last I encountered myself in the hands of the white man…

76 Comments

  1. LibroThe pic represents this book I’ve just started that I might title “Extermination.” Stay tuned for future installments of translated chapters. For the original Spanish version of these opening pages click here.

    “Thus in order he did not feel self-conscious with me, I told him that I was not properly white.”

    Cf. my articles under the category “Nordicism” and pay special attention to those originally written in Spanish for the blogsite Evropa Soberana.

  2. Reblogged this on ElderofZyklon's Blog!

  3. Reblogged this on BLOGGING BAD w/Gunny G .

  4. Oh my goodness, Chechar!

    Your description of London makes me sick to my stomach. I can only imagine the disgust and repulsion you must have felt in that awful cesspool. It makes me wonder how British WWII vets feel now when they look at their country. They fought, for this?

    I appreciate the first-hand account of conditions there, and that we are hearing from you again, but I wish you had a story of rolling green hills and success to share with us instead. Welcome back anyhow.

    • Thank you. I was most curious to know what would the first commenter of this thread say about such an adventure!

      After a week spent in beautiful Perth, an Irish commenter of this blog invited me to stay some days in his flat outside London. This is what I witnessed in London once I resorted to “plan B”—just do tourism for a month or so and then go back—after the catastrophic August 4th.

  5. Chechar, it sounds like you had some real misfortunes over there in Britain. Certainly a big disappointment for you. At least you made it back okay. I look forward to reading the rest of your story about your adventures over there in Britain.

    • Well… The pencil sketch of what I want to write in the rest of the book, as far as I left it last week, is indeed autobiographical but not necessarily about my recent trip to the UK. (Horribler stories than what happened to me last month are to be found in Hojas Susurrantes, of which this book is a sort of continuation.)

      Once I improvised my trip to “plan B”, besides visiting nice towns in Scotland and England I met friendly people of the London Forum, BNP members, and Arthur Kemp in a lovely town far away from London. But the thrust of my following pages will be about other Latin American people I want to criticize, perhaps in harsher terms than what I did with the Brazilian.

      What has happened here down the South is almost invisible to most WNsts. I believe it’s important because the miscegenation experiment we are witnessing now in places like London and other large western cities started here half a millennium ago. You guys have a lot to learn about the gigantic failure that represented the European conquest of this part of the continent and see what’s coming to your shores.

      • >”the thrust of my following pages will be about other Latin American people I want to criticize, perhaps in harsher terms than what I did with the Brazilian.”

        Okay, sounds good.

        Aside from that, I certainly remember the Brazilian guy, who posted a lot on your blog last year (I forget the name he posted under). And yes, he did come across as quite intelligent, so I don’t fault you for trusting him as you did, sight unseen.

        >”You guys have a lot to learn about the gigantic failure that represented the European conquest of this part of the continent and see what’s coming to your shores.”

        I’m in that “lot to learn” category regarding Mexico and the rest of South America, so I’m sure I’ll read your future posts on the subject with interest.

      • I forgot the name he posted under…

        Just look at the categories above after the automatic WordPress phrase “Published in” and you’ll see it :)

  6. Chechar, it sounds like you were on a Fool’s Errand, big time, chasing a White lark of some kind. And in racially mixed London of all places! Get hold of yourself, man. Wouldn’t it have been easier and more practical to walk into the US? You could also have contacted Bradley Smith and got a room in Tijuana, where you could have made contact with WN’s in the States. When the Zogbuck collapses, and “monetary reform” doesn’t work, and the welfare checks bounce, all hell will break out everywhere.

    • The US government doesn’t allow me to enter the States. Also, it was never my intention to stay in London—only to pick up my “papers” and then go north. Obviously I never, ever expected that a smart guy like this Brazilian would be on the verge of homelessness, which explains his conduct.

      PS. I have been in Tijuana more than once. It’s even more hellish than London, and more dangerous.

      • @ Chechar

        Why won’t the U.S. government allow you to enter the USA?

      • Sorry: I can’t tell. Some biographical questions I won’t reply over the threads because I’d have to explain lots of things, but I may mention them in the autobiographical book I’m writing.

  7. Sorry to hear about such atrocious behavior from that pretend friend the Brazilian. At least you found and met some of your fans. Couldn’t you do Helsinki to St.Petersburg then switch every 30 days or Poland-Ukraine to keep within the 30 day passport window? Couldn’t you teach English/Spanish in Russia then when the collapse hits take the train to Helsinki? I used to teach in Russia some time ago and it’s not as bad as many think. The Russian public sector is much better than Mexico’s although the private sector could use some work. WWII veterans say this isn’t the Britain they fought for so yes they realize it wasn’t worth it for what it became.

    • Russia? Well, since I lived a year in Manchester in 1998-1999 taking Open University courses, I thought it would be easier in a country I already knew.

      • Yes but there isn’t a lot of time left if you want to leave Mexico for greener pastures. Once you get some experience in teaching both languages you might be able to go to other parts of Europe although with all the unemployed Spaniards the EU will have many willing and able Spanish teachers for years to come.

        Russia is great because the people don’t take crap from outsiders. But getting a visa for English or Spanish teaching is more realistic than the EU.

      • Every large city will become unsafe after the crash, whether in the EU or Russia. One of the London Forum members I met, very conscious that the collapse is coming, told me that he has accepted he’ll probably die in London; and that if we had at least half a million pounds we could build something in a specific UK island he mentioned. You really need some funds to buy a modest home far away from the cities that will catch fire, and very few of us have the means.

  8. BTW, what’s the appearance of your Brazilian “friend”?

    • I have in my hard disk two pics of him but hesitate to put them here together with what appears to be his real name (as he has a Facebook page). For the moment, just picture in your mind someone in-between a mestizo and a mulatto, as I said above.

      • Ah, so he’s one of those tri-racial “Pardos” that Brazil is full of.

      • Yes: see his pic below (I changed my mind): he’s showing us the finger. Lol.

  9. It has been my experience, learned the hard way, repeatedly, that we Whites too often misapply our sense of fairness and honour, and we are the fair race, to other races, and actually beguile ourselves, even chide and admonish ourselves, “Come on now, surely they can be honorable too”.

    No.
    They cannot.
    The concept of honour is alien to the dark races.
    They are cunning, shrewd, calculating.
    Most of my acquaintances and associates throughout my life have been non-Whites, and slowly, but surely, I learned, they will use you, guilt trip you, manipulate you, betray you, goad you, tempt you, but they will never honour a promise, and every time they say they want to “help you” is when you should beware and understand that what that really means is they want to “use you”.

    Trust your fucking eyes, they know more than your brain.
    A snake is a snake is a snake.
    A nigger is a chimp is an ape.
    A muslim is a rapist and a murderer.
    A jew is a vampire is a devil.
    A gook is a snake is a viper.

    At least 2/3 of Whites cannot be trusted in anyway.

    I learned the hard way, the slow way, the best most thorough and most painful way, if you turn your back on a non-White, just once, you deserve it.

    • Vigithunor: you are spot on. There’s something I didn’t confess in the above, rather sketchy report of what happened to me those days. Since I had recently revised the English syntax of the longest article ever published in WDH, the one by Evropa Soberana, the thoughts of this Spanish blogger were fresh while observing the physiognomy (and presumably the character) of the Scots I was seeing in Perth. What I omitted to say above, because it’s a complicated soliloquy, is that in my mind I started to compare their facial expressions with what I remembered of the face of the Brazilian. The point is that at Perth I told to myself that the “pardo” looked cunning indeed; and that the young, redhead Scots I was encountering must be all too naïve—just for the appearance of their faces! This is what Evropa Soberana actually wrote in said article about pure nordids:

      “Forehead is high but not completely vertical. Psychologically, this is a noble, harmonious, serene, serious, patient, well-balanced, martial, honourable, disciplined, efficient and racist race, but also somewhat naïve, too angelic and not very cunning in many ways.”

      And this is what he said about pure Armenoids:

      “Psychology, idiosyncrasy and racial character: Liking for personal benefit, love for short-term utility, astuteness and shrewdness. Calculating character, predisposition to materialistic intelligence, commerce, diplomacy and search for personal advantages. Easiness to spot and prejudge people; ability to detect an individual’s weaknesses.”

      Keep in mind that non-whites in Latin America are, physiognomically, far closer to this type than to nordids: they’re definitively not angel-faced (as the good-looking Romanian I talked to in the pseudohostel). Despite of what I told Carcharodon above, I am tempted to add a pic of the Brazilian I trusted before I met him in the flesh…

      larry2

  10. Cesar,

    So sorry you suffered through this horrible experience! :-( London has been getting worse and worse, and it’s only a matter of time before the rest of England goes under. Moslem men have been forcing English and Welsh girls into prostitution for a long time; the Rotherham case is the tip of the iceberg.

    I hope you can find a place that’s still White. Have you considered Iceland?

    Iceland has a relatively restrictive immigration policy, and, as far as I know (which isn’t very far), it’s still relatively White, and it’s the only country in Europe where the indigenous population is still reproducing at replacement rate (Iceland’s birth rate is 2.2 live births per woman). It’s true that Iceland is very liberal, but Icelanders don’t like Blacks or Jews, and that is more than I can say for most other Aryans these days.

    • Of course I have considered Iceland! In fact, if I had the means Iceland would be first choice. Alas, as the London Forum member implied last month (see above), if you live in a large metropolis and don’t have robust savings your chances to survive the collapse in a big city are rather slim…

  11. Chechar,
    As a follow up, since I consider your, contribution to the cause, an important one, I shall add.

    My experience was rather similar to your own. I too had a similar mishap in Heathrow London. With some minor differences.

    To borrow your terminology, I am properly White.
    I went to London to meet a woman, a woman who said she loved me. A white woman, naturally, a proper lady. Similar to your misadventure, she did not show up. I remember the feeling, the shock, the disbelief, the sick, emptiness in my stomach, the betrayal, as I watched, and watched, the myriad of happy people, couples, family members, meetings, the hugs, the laughter, and then I realized, she’s not coming. She lied.
    I didn’t know anyone in England.
    I didn’t have enough money. The plan was….. , the plan was past tense.
    I spent the night on the floor in the airport, curled up in a corner in the muslim prayer room.

    Just because someone is White does not mean you can trust them.
    Just because someone says they love you, or really loves you, does not mean you can trust them. Most homicides, a good 90%, involve a victim and killer who knew each other, and I know not the statistic as how that relates to love, but I do know this,
    only those you trust may betray you.

    This occurred some years ago, before my full racial awakening.
    Today, I really don’t know anyone more racist, more hard core than me. I got banned by the top hate site on the net. I suppose that says something. I do not believe in mercy to the enemy, for I know mercy to the enemy is cruelty towards oneself. I do not believe in forgiveness for our traitors, and enemy collaborators, I don’t care what their excuse is. I know the stomach and the grit necessary to do what needs to be done, to our traitors, and to their families, and to their children, right down to the root, to cut this cancer out. Most of our people don’t, and so we are the prey, for now.

    As it were, at the time, it was a mulatto nigger that helped me. Basically a bum, a social parasite, living off of his White mother’s inheritance, unemployed. Regardless, he put a roof over my head, no questions asked. His only goal that consumed him day and night, was to get married, to any white girl who would have him.

    I hated London. Everyday I saw a beautiful White woman, busty blonde, with a full blooded ape.
    I knew then, England is finished. Not just London, all of England.

    I could tell you more. I’ve been on the unfortunate recipient end of charity from Blacks on one other occasion, even if it were no more than to offer me a lift in a blizzard on Christmas day, and I’ve had Whites who called me ‘brother’ try to murder me, actually try, not figuratively, but literally, physically, to kill me.

    So what does all this prove.

    Nothing.
    If you trust someone, and put all your money on the wager that, they will betray you, you may lose sometimes, but ultimately, you will end up a rich man.
    Just because someone agrees with you, on a few points, does not make them intelligent. That is your ego, your false pride, talking. A man can agree with you on everything and be quite the fool. What is more, a man who agrees with you on everything, proves only, that he is no smarter than you. And how boring is that.

    140 IQ you say?
    So what.
    My IQ is higher than that, considerably.
    And so what again.
    Few people impress me.
    And less still who impress me with their intelligence.
    And truth be told, most of the people who have impressed me, are not nearly so bright as half of me on a bad day.
    You don’t need to be intelligent, to be righteous, to be right, to be good.
    There are many demons who have cerebral flexibility in abundance.

    If anything, you should be leery of someone who agrees with you; someone who disagrees with you does so openly, and at a loss and a cost to them, earning your disfavor, whereas someone who agrees with you, could merely be ingratiating themselves to you, positioning themselves, or worse, mirroring you.

    Finally, there is this phenomenon, of people wanting to flee, to fly, to run away, to someplace far away, some place safe, to wait out the apocalypse, bide the storm, survive the collapse of the dollar, imminent world war 3, global systemic collapse and disruption of food supplies; people in America want to get out, people in Europe want to run away, to, somewhere, they talk about New Zealand, they talk about Argentina, Hawaii, you name it, people in South Africa want to get out, well I’ve got news for you, I’ve got news for you all, no one is getting out of here alive. Each and every one, without exception, has been given their time, and one day, they will punch out of their earth suit. The devils will return to below, the angels will return to above, and no doubt dive back down again for another round. Life is temporary, the game is eternal. And then there’s the animals, the two legged variety. They shall continue their constitutional activities of, eating, sleeping, mating, defending, in one of the 8,000,000 body types of animals, or one of the 400,000 types of hominoid forms, uninterrupted, without even noticing. For he who has taken birth, death is certain, and for he who has died, birth is certain, therefore, in the unavoidable discharge of your duty, you should not lament. Those whom God would protect, who can kill. Those whom God would kill, who can save. The servants of God have nothing to fear, indeed, they rejoice at the harvest and cleansing of the earth. Similarly, the animals in two legged form, have nothing to lament, for they shall surely die, sooner, or later, it matters not, and again born, to eat, drink, rut, amok. It is only the devils who have to fear, the reckoning of their account, tally of their sins to pay for.

    There is no where to run to, and no need to run. No one lives forever, in this mortal coil. You have already embraced your duty, and sacrifice, to not burden descendants in confused trappings, prison of a body, with conflicting hardwire. Is it then so big a step, to simply place yourself in God’s great hands, and say “Father, from You I came, and whenever it pleases you, to you, I return. Do what you will with me, I am, and ever have been, and forever shall be, yours.”

    This is not fatalism. This is reality. This is eternal truth. This is realization. This is emancipation. This is surrender, enlightenment, liberation. Freedom. Moksa. Salvation.

    This IS the power, and the glory, and, the Kingdom.

    Furthermore, I speak not of Christianity, nor churchianity, nor Christ-son-ianity, nor Christos Logos Wyrd Weird Words. This swirling globe, and we, and God, are all, incomparably older than any doctrine or playbook or ideology yet alive today. In every aeon, every epoch, every age, God descends, avatara, either personally, directly, or indirectly through his servants. God is always here, with us, and he never changes. We change. Our bodies, our manners, our faces, our language, and the names by which we know Him, Zeus, Odin, Wotan, Vishnu, Viracocha, Yashuah, it is we who change, we change maps, we reload the game, reload the skins, and pursue our fancy, thinking, scheming, unthinking, drinking. God does not change.

    What a pitiful thing, the wretches, scurrying about the earth, like ants, like rats, burrowing, borrowing, building, planning, fearing, thinking, “I shall live forever.”

    Do you not know, the art of living is found only through the gate of the art of dying?

    Survive the collapse of the dollar? And for what? What grand design, what glorious act, will you perform, O Chechar? What is so good and glorious and noble in your life, that it must prolong? For what? For whom?

    If it is, in fact, after honest introspection, indeed some noble deed, yet remains for you to perform, then entreat to your Maker and Creator, and surely, all that you need to succeed will be given to you.

    But in any case, Mexico, Europe, North America, Asia, even Australia down under, not one city will go untouched on this earth. Australia if anything will be submerged, by a flood, a veritable tsunami, of Chinese military boots.

    There is no Eden, no Elysium, no seed vault. Your best chance is with those you know, whom you have built some relationship, on terrain you are familiar with.

    Enjoy the game, brothers and sisters. We did not come here to be here forever, nor to make the best of a bad bargain, and thank God for it. Execute your mission, without hesitation nor quibble, and when the time comes, our Father will take you home, and then, if you have done well, you may hold your head high and meet His eye, unashamed.

    And you too, Chechar. Blood alone, does not please The Father. Indeed, many of His disobedient sons and daughters shall perish. It is deeds, service, loyalty, love, real love, not whimsical, pillowside, sweet nothings, but acts, thoughts, and words, in sum, one, that one shows, and lives, and breathes, and is, love, pure and unadulterated.

    Forget this running away business, lest you find you have a rendezvous with death in Samarra.

    A man was not made to flee but to stand!
    Men! There is no retreat from your duty! You will die where you stand!

    Run? Flee? Can you run faster than your honour?

    Play well. I may see you on the other side.

    • There’s no other side; and I am absolutely certain that a personal God does not exist.

      Survive the collapse of the dollar? And for what? What grand design, what glorious act, will you perform, O Chechar? What is so good and glorious and noble in your life, that it must prolong? For what? For whom?

      For the Aryan survivors of the collapse of course! Once Christianity dies people like Pierce and I, premature deliveries/births of a not yet verified future, will be read avidly by those post-WN fellows who survived energy devolution. The transvaluation of all values is needed to fulfill the 14 words—and that’s exactly why I must survive: to finish this very book I just started.

    • Vigithunor, interesting post by you. I have one question about it, where you say:

      >”The devils will return to below, the angels will return to above, and no doubt dive back down again for another round.”

      When you say “and no doubt dive back down again for another round”, are you referring to reincarnation, or do you mean something else?

      Aside from that I certainly agree with your advice to Chechar, to stop trying to run away from his imagined bogeyman (in his case an imagined imminent “collapse of the [USA] dollar” and resulting social collapse that among other things will cause the mestizos in Mexico City where he lives to go on a mad quest for “white” blood including his blood).

      • You are wrong there Kurt. Even the front pages of the main Mexican newspapers recognize that crime in my town has been escalating, and one could imagine what would happen after hyperinflation. I remember perfectly the peso crashes of 1976, 1982 and 1991. Half your wealth in the banks was lost. And now the peso will not only devaluate 50% or so, as did before. It could be much worse. And you are forgetting also that even without that more serious crash I have been kidnapped twice in this unsafe city. Moving out is reasonable for someone like me.

      • Okay, now you give a much more reasonable reason for your wanting out of Mexico City: to get away from an environment that is already dangerous and threatening to people like yourself — in the sense of crimes like theft and assault and even kidnapping. In other words, what is known in the USA as “white flight” for reasons of personal and/or family safety, which is fully justified, especially in the case of environments with many niggers and/or an increasing population of niggers such as in the small Florida-USA city I currently live in. And in your case, to “nigger environments” you would add “mestizo environments”.

        See, you don’t need a dubious claim of “imminent collapse of the [USA] dollar”, which to me makes you look foolish and ignorant regarding the USA economy.

      • It is neither ignorant nor foolish. The Mexican peso crashed in the years I cited above precisely because they were printing like crazy—what’s presently happening in the US. Of course: since the dollar has been the international currency par excellence, it cannot crash as easily, especially when other Asian and European countries are debasing their currency too. When I say “dollar crash” actually I mean “international currency crash”. What the Mexicans did prior to 1976, etc. (and other Latin American countries over the years like Argentina and Bolivia) is now being done throughout the degenerate West and even in Japan. The day of reckoning is coming for sure: could be this decade, could be the next. I wish I could prepare myself by moving to a small, all-white town, but it’s not possible for the moment.

      • Chechar, you say:

        >”The Mexican peso crashed in the years I cited above precisely because they were printing like crazy—what’s presently happening in the US.”

        Regarding the Mexican peso, you know about it and I don’t. But regarding the USA dollar, that is where you are showing your ignorance. To say that a USA annual inflation rate of about 2% for the last several years in the USA (including the current year 2014 which so far has an annual inflation rate below 2%), is “printing like crazy,” is simply false.

        You can do a simple google search on, for example, us inflation rate chart, which on the first search-results page here in the USA where I type it, gives many links to recent and historical inflation rates in the USA.

        You can also look at several authoritative sources regarding USA inflation data, such as the US Federal Reserve. For example, see (link)

        Or you can look at “Why does the Federal Reserve aim for 2 percent inflation over time?” at (link)

      • You are committing the same mistake that Body-snatched Pods commit every day: taking government / media / academic sources as reliable sources to see what’s happening in anthropology, racial & gender studies, economics, mental health professions, 20th century history—you name it. WNsts are smart enough to detect pseudoscience in raciology and recent history for example; but they are completely “snatched” when they believe that the System is telling the truth in areas such as psychiatry (which in fact is as pseudoscientific as astrology) or economics.

        The Fed for example has been debunked ad infinitum and ad nauseam by the people that I linked in my previous response, and the same can be said about the official stats on US inflation. It makes no sense to be skeptical about, say, Boasian anthropology and at the same time be a believer of Keynesian economics. No sense at all! The only field that the System is not lying about is the hard sciences (physics, chemistry, biology etc). A large part of so-called social sciences on the other hand, including clinical psychology and economy, is bunk.

        Here Schiff compares economics as taught by the Fed and the US universities with “witch doctors, potions and voodoo-dolls… The people that are being educated at the universities aren’t being educated at all. They learn the equivalent of nonsense.”

        For a more in-depth analysis on economic quackery you’d have to study the sources linked in the underlined words of my previous reply, e.g., Jim Rickards’ recent book, The Death of Money.

      • You say:

        >”You are committing the same mistake that Body-snatched Pods commit every day: taking government / media / academic sources as reliable sources to see what’s happening in anthropology, racial & gender studies, economics, mental health professions, 20th century history—you name it.”

        I am not talking about the subjects you list above, I am only talking about the USA annual inflation rate, currently in 2014 and in the last few years.

        So, you are implicitly saying with your above reply that the USA 2% annual inflation rate I gave for recent years is false.

        First of all, as someone who has lived his entire 58-year life in the USA, and pays USA prices for everything I buy, my own experience buying things during the last few years and this current year 2014 shows no sign of rapidly rising prices (a result of high inflation if there were high inflation), other than a modest increase in some food prices roughly 2 or 3 years ago. Thus, my own experience as a consumer living in the USA agrees with the low inflation rate for this year 2014 and the last few years, which the USA government claims.

        Second of all, if the actual USA annual inflation rate for this year and the last few years is much higher than 2% as you seem to implicitly claim, then what is the actual USA annual inflation rate NUMBER that you are claiming for 2014 and the last few years, and what are your sources for that NUMBER.

        So, Chechar, what is the NUMBER you claim?

      • I’ve heard of approximations of the number you ask but won’t tell here. In a thread devoted to discuss what happened to me last month, this financial debate is off topic.

        Watch the video I just embedded in that post and pay attention to what Rickards very recently said in that most didactic program / interview.

  12. Interesting discussion. Allow me to participate.

    Since Kurt, has used his own experience, as a reference, I shall use mine. 25 years ago, the US$ bought double the amount of a Chinese RMB currency as it does today. Chechar is right; quoting US official statistics regarding currency, is your fear speaking Kurt. The collapse is coming, and it will be global because most currencies are hinged upon the dollar. BRICS are trying to cushion the fall they know is inevitable, ineluctable. The US$ has lost 60% of its purchasing power in my time, which is not nearly either of your nor Chechar’s. How’s that for broad day light true sight vision, with my own eyes, not some statistics.

    If you don’t see the inflation of the dollar, you are allowing your fear to get the better of you. Shit will hit the fan the hardest in the JewSA, where you won’t have to worry about rioting niggers and mestizos as much as you will have to worry about FEMA and trained White soldiers who’ve come to put you under a guillotine so the Jews can behead you and harvest your adrenochrome and drink your blood. If you don’t know about that, you are less than up to speed and have got more than a little waking up to do, on both SRA in the US and the USSR white holocaust.

    Admin note: I've excerpted the rest of Vigithunor's 1200-word post to a shorter post:

    As for reincarnation as a fact, yes I do have some evidence. [omitted links]

    Reincarnation is a fact. As for Chechar’s, “I know” there is no personal God. I won’t argue with you. They say that God is both Personal and Impersonal, and that, you choose, as per your preference, your fancy, your faith, understanding. If you prefer the Impersonal Brahman aspect, so be it unto you.
    The Nietzchian realization is also fantastic, if a hard path, reveled in. If you like it hard, you get it hard, so don’t cry. Indeed, laugh, mad!

    It is enough that you care for the good and godly, and for your own benefit, I hope you care about God, regardless of any name, or even the, Ineffable, Unknowable, title.

    But I put it to you, you have a name, you are a person, why God cannot have a name and a personality, personhood? Are you greater than God? You are just one limited individual, easily duped, easily slain, truth be told, a bacteria wafting in this one cosmos, yet you have many names; why God cannot have a name? From whence comes this hubris? […]

    As for the statement that, “There’s no other side.”, you are wrong. Dead wrong. I know it for a fact, just as I can see the blazing glorious sun each day. But as your faith, so unto you. Which is why it is so critical, what faith you choose. Nothing after here?

    grins…

    If that is what you wish.

    • Perhaps I overstated the Nietzsche quote. In fact, I’ve exposed the life of Nietzsche here. Have you seen my posts on Werner Ross, Curt Paul Janz and what Stefan Zweig wrote about this poor man?

      As for reincarnation as a fact, yes I do have some evidence… Reincarnation is a fact.

      It’s not only bunk: belief in reincarnation is extreme white pathology. As to the “evidence”, cf. the last issue of Skeptical Inquirer when it changed its format from a small magazine to a larger one. That issue debunked the sloppy work of Ian Stevenson, the “foremost” advocate of reincarnation in para-psychological journals (journals which I used to subscribe when I was a believer of the paranormal).

      I said above that the Brazilian’s “upward quantum leap was crystal-clear” when comparing him “to the vast majority of Aryan commenters visiting my site.” Well… Your comment, together with Kurt’s belief in reincarnation, illustrate my sentence as shown in this comment by the Brazilian:

      The reason why the doctrine of reincarnation is so fundamental to Buddhism is because if you were to embrace the horrifying view this religion has of life without any faith in a life after death, you would logically feel the urge to commit suicide. People who convert to Buddhism have to be convinced to stay alive by means of inculcating in them a belief in reincarnation; and in the hope of not reincarnating by means of following the eightfold path in order to reach Nirvana and not to reincarnate anymore. Well, any non mentally deranged person can see the madness of such a set of ideas. But unfortunately, all religious systems are ultimately as crazy as Buddhism. All you have to do is to boil their pompous, self-righteous talk down to its bottom lines and you’ll see what their proponents are really talking about.

      See the rest of the Brazilian’s comment: here. Another quote from the same comment:

      Whites should flush such nonsense down the toilet and follow the example of healthier races like the Japanese, the Chinese and the kikes—pace the wickedness of the latter. Shintoism, Confucianism and Judaism are simple pseudo-religious casuistry aiming at preserving the temporal social order of their respective civilizations. To put it bluntly, the ultimate goal of these doctrines is the physical preservation and prosperity of their respective peoples, so much so that they don’t even waste time elaborating on a supposed afterlife, preferring instead to concentrate on the cult of the ancestors and on practical rules of public morality. In other words, we’re talking about racial-preservation cults here. Christianity, Islam and Buddhism, on the other hand, are universalistic ideologies that see this world as a distraction from transcendental truths around which we should build all whole lives.

      Exactly the same can be said about “god”. Here Nietzsche is spot on: the concept of a personal god has been like a Big Spider for Europeans: it has sucked their souls like a spider sucks the insects’ brains. The idea of a personal god, together with afterlife understood in the Judeo-Christian sense, has been the main cause for inducing fear and white guilt (Tom Sunic also says this). You either kill this “personal god” of yours—one of the chapters I plan to write in Extermination—together with all those other viruses of the mind that place the hope in the afterlife, or your race (“I am properly white” you say) is going extinct.

      Just compare your second post above—“why not accept death”, “see you in the other side”—with my staunch resolution to survive and fight (even after the Brazilian ruined my first plans). Don’t you realize that I haven’t given up precisely because I don’t believe in a personal god or postmortem survival?

      Every single white believer in a big daddy or the afterlife is the brainchild of a cult designed to destroy the race. But surely you have not even bothered to read The Fair Race which contains some translated articles by Manu Rodríguez, who makes our point beautifully?

    • Vigithunor, thanks for your reply to my question as to whether or not you meant reincarnation in your statement “The devils will return to below, the angels will return to above, and no doubt dive back down again for another round.”

      So, your answer is that “reincarnation is a fact,” about which I agree. The main reason for my question was because you used in your complete post so much Christian terminology — but the Christian religion rejects reincarnation — that I wasn’t sure that the obvious interpretation of “dive back down again for another round” as being reincarnation was indeed what you meant.

    • Perhaps here would be a good time to briefly explain why karmic reincarnation is in principle impossible. Karma exists to teach souls, and there can be no learning without memory; yet no one remembers the details of their past lives. Who, then, can benefit? Obviously, no one. Hence, there can be no karmic reincarnation. (Please correct this argument if you can)

      • I’d rather ask you guys to discuss this belief in the thread of the Brazilian’s rant against this doctrine. Perhaps he will reply there. (Lol!)

  13. Reblogged this on vikingbitch's Blog and commented:

    I am so sorry to hear about your travel fiasco. People really suck today and it is just going to get worse and the collapse or ‘raganarok’ continues. The truth is there really is nowhere to go. Myself I tried to go out West. I wanted to go to Wyoming but found myself stuck in Utah aka Utard. What used to be the Great White State has turned into a mish mash of refugees resettling from India, Iran, Tonga, and various other places. Blacks are coming in to SLC from Africa and places in the US such as Baltimore and Chicago. SLC abounds with dykes and fags and influxes of people who are ‘Californicated’. The Mormons have drank the MultiCult Kool Aid and SLC is going downhill as hordes from Mexico pile in.

    I drove cross country back to the East with my two kids and a newborn in a van given to me by my Mormon doula. Wyoming was great, but I was warned to stay away from Denver . I liked the area at the border of Bevraska and Wyoming. I want to go back, but I have aging family back East and I need my kids to go to good schools – I have not forgotten the West though. Southern Illinois and Indiana seemed like friendly White people.

    Nope, not much space left on this effed up planet for people wanting to escape the degenerate hordes. I guess we just have to sit and wait for the rot to take its course while working on self preservation.

    • “not much space left on this effed up planet for people wanting to escape the degenerate hordes”

      Nowhere is ideal, I guess, but there are many good places in the PNW (Idaho-Oregon/Washington)

      “my two kids and a newborn”

      There lies a tale, no doubt.

      “we just have to sit and wait”

      No, you need to move to higher ground. Now.

  14. Chechar, I read your blog a lot and I enjoy your writing I haven’t read everything but it worries me that you can’t leave Mexico City and it’s violence. Will you still be able to write in DF? Can you move to another more peaceful part of Mexico like the Yucatan or Latin America like Panama or Nicaragua? It bothers me that these people will inhibit your writing through their own violence. I hate to think that all is lost. Do you at least have plans to go somewhere safer where you can store your new writings for future readers?

    • I would not touch any Spanish-speaking country. I hate Latin America. In the first chapter of this book I’m writing I’ll also say very tough things about Spain.

      One of the problems in the movement is that there’s not even one wealthy individual sponsoring it. None. In London I was shocked last month that the BNP people I met do their meetings on the streets because there’s not a single house for them in the entire UK! Why? As I said, no one is sponsoring them properly.

      Just compare how the richest whites behave with whites & how the wealthy kikes help each other. We are screwed…

      • I understand but we have to keep these writings alive. The BNP acts against the accumulation of wealth so the wealthy don’t have a real reason to support them as it goes against their bottom line. Here in the U.S. T Boone Pickens the billionaire oilman gave $100,000,000 dollars to the Oklahoma State football team so they could field a contender no joke tax-deductible then lobbies the government to subsidize his Pickens plan boondoggle for wind and solar energy. My country is just as corrupt as Mexico but slightly more productive and with much better credit that’s how we’re funding our consumption. We will collapse when our debt to GDP ratio hits 150% so we still have time about 3-4 years although under the right conditions it could happen sooner. The Anglophone countries have soft governments that even allow people to serve in foreign Armies then come back with their citizenship intact. Because of ethnic lobbies American Jews can serve in the Israeli Defense Force and the government looks the other way but if my neighbor joins an independent Scottish Army he could lose his. In Mexico when you take another countries citizenship you automatically lose your Mexican one.

  15. Note: the original 1929-word comment has been abridged by admin:

    Chechar, most Whites are religious/spiritual. The atheistic view is not going to inspire anything near critical mass. It’s as simple as that.

    Judeo-Christianity is an oxymoron and contradiction in terms. Read John 8:44-47. Jesus was a White Man, blonde hair blue eyed. Read Pontius Pilates’ physical description of him to Tiberius Caesar […] I don’t know how to say this any simpler. Where you find the more potent truth, you will also find the more pernicious lies. Jesus was not a Jew. Real christ-sons do understand reincarnation. […] Real Christians, Two Seedline Christians, are unabashed racists, who wish nothing but death to the enemies of the White race and especially to Satan’s demon spawn children on the earth. […]

    The atheists, no matter how clever they are, or how clever they think they are, their thesis amounts to nothing more than “Nothing plus no one equals everything plus everyone.” Retarded. […] You evaded the question. I repeat. You are a force, and you can be personal, in person, as a person.
    Why God, who is greater than you and created you, cannot? You are greater than God? God the omnipotent, cannot be a person, but somehow you can? Laughs! […]

    Edit my posts? When you write 706 page books and 310 page post scripts? Why? Because the characters take up too much bandwidth? You complain about my “1200 words” when you write 4277 word posts.

    If you continue to edit my posts, judge jury and narcicutioner in one, I may simply post an open response either on a blog or youtube, or worse, I may simply, not reply again, and then you shall have your impersonal, black abyss, that is, nothing and no one, though I suppose the coterie of immature sycophants shall remain, but what can catalysis or contribution can they contribute. […]

    What do you really know Chechar? […] Perfect in your hatred, you are imperfect in your love of our Father, indeed, you don’t even know him. So astute of you to point out the White children of the gods, who came to this earth, Zanoni, […]

    • Chechar, most Whites are religious/spiritual. The atheistic view is not going to inspire anything near critical mass. It’s as simple as that.

      You still don’t get it because you are not really familiar with this blog. I am not an atheist. What I am definitively not is a theist. Had you read this blog extensively or my Day of Wrath you would know that.

      Judeo-Christianity is an oxymoron and contradiction in terms. Read John 8:44-47. Jesus was a White Man, blonde hair blue eyed. Read Pontius Pilates’ physical description of him to Tiberius Caesar […]

      Still don’t get it because you have not read this blog. Had you read it you would know that I spent years of my life reading New Testament scholars. It is not clear if the historical Jesus even existed, let alone that he was “Aryan”. Christian Identity is for infantile adults, not for real men.

      You evaded the question. I repeat… Why God, who is greater than you…?

      You are reasoning like those medieval theologians who elaborated ingenious—and fallacious—“proofs” about the existence of a personal, Christian god and then elaborated their intellectual sophistry circularly, as if the existence of a personal god had already been demonstrated.

      Edit my posts? Why? If you continue to edit my posts, judge jury and narcicutioner in one, I may simply post an open response either on a blog or youtube, or worse, I may simply, not reply again…

      Please do that. I am already overwhelmed of work to, in addition, deal with children who still believe in the existence of a big daddy and a pie in the sky after death. I will tell you what I told a persistent Christian Identity guy who had been polluting these threads with silly theologies: this is not a blog for you.

      • At least the CI people point out that the Jews are mongrels, descended from Israelites who interbred with the other nations they conquered (including Edom, who they’d been feuding with forever), so that they could forge a more powerful empire.

        I don’t know why so many people go into long diatribes about Jewish history but forget to bring that up.

  16. “cognitively I was not well”

    You can say that again.

    I’m not going to say anymore than that, because the risk should have been too goddamned obvious.

    • You can imagine my desperation of leaving a town where I have been assaulted and where violence is escalating; and how I was groggy by not sleeping in the plane, and how I needed to believe that this guy would indeed provide work permit. No: I was not well that 4th of August. My cognitive defenses had suffered a complete KO.

      Do you imply with that that some of my provocative posts elsewhere had a same “etiology”, that “I have been not well” while blogging? If so, please point out to a specific post (or posts).

      • I imply and state openly (since you ask) that to travel to a foreign country based solely on the say-so of someone you have never met and to whom you are not in any way related by blood and to put yourself entirely in dependence on such a person as the whole basis of the trip is a monumentally foolish thing to do and anybody should know better than to do a thing like that.

        SOME sort of backup plan should have existed; “if this person turns out unreliable, I will do X and Y, and pay for it with Z”; and that plan should have gone into action at the end of the first hour waiting in the airport. That you did not have such a backup plan, did not consider such things and make preparations for them well before placing one foot on the plane, is indeed an indication of being cognitively unwell.

        I suppose this isn’t terribly helpful and you’ve beat yourself up (mentally) over this enough already. I just find it flabbergasting that someone as intelligent as you could be this foolish.

      • Other commenters have committed similar blunders. Have you read what Vigithunor said above, that he had an even worse experience—far worse—precisely with a person that would pick him up at Heathrow airport?

        But yes: I was unwell even in Mexico. Some conditions here that I’ve not yet confessed contributed to such poor judgement. “The drowning will grab at straws.”

  17. Chechar…

    Something tells me that “you” are the Brazilian and “we” are the Chechars in this whole affair.

    • When you commented in this blog, last June, that—:

      Christians worship the Perfect Man (and his Creator) and there is nothing to suggest that this Perfect Man preached white self-annihilation. Absolutely nothing.

      I told you to disappear and go to a Christian Identity site. Now you have reappeared.

      Cesar Tort at 33And no: I am not the Brazilian. I was the guy in this pic when I lived in Spain (at about the same age that I guess the Brazilian is now).

  18. The Brazilian “Larry Mars”, who has also blogged here under the penname of “John Martínez” (I’m tempted to publish his real name if he continues bothering me), has posted a comment that I swiftly deleted, as he’s no longer welcome to this forum.

    For his reply it’s obvious that he’s not conscious of what he did and still believes that his intention was to “help” me. As I said, only because I was (stupidly) expecting work permit from his contact I tolerated his inexplicable leaving me in the subway station, becoming stranded for more than half an hour with no explanation while he calmly went outside to purchase beer and presumably drink it too before re-entering the subway. Only that should have been enough to dismiss such fellow. However, I believe that his rant deserves a place in this thread.

    The Brazilian wrote:

    larry2Well, self-absorbed in your navel-gazing as usual, you failed to transcribe the message I sent you the other day [another rant that I deleted in an Addenda thread (here), where the Brazilian was mad at me because I "unfriended" him from Facebook. As that comment was written before I published the above article, he mistakenly called my "liar" since he disbelieved that I visited Scotland last month], which would have been very helpful to clarify the way I now see your whole behavior during our encounter. But this very post in itself illustrates the points I made there.

    You are just a cry-baby loser Chechar.

    Aren’t you ashamed, aren´t you embarrassed to bitch, TO BITCH in public, for all your readers to see, about me keeping you waiting in the airport for some time? About me not carrying your luggage for you? About (oh horror!) me getting drunk?

    Fuck you, you faggot. Man up. MAN UP!

    You keep writing about killing millions, billions of nonwhites and you bitch, you BITCH about some guy keeping you waiting in the airport and not carrying your luggage and being drunk? This is surreal.

    I even remember having read you writing once you “wouldn’t mind joining a survivalist group”. Pff… what a joke. A guy who moans about sleeping in a slum for one fucking night!

    To begin with, I got late to the airport because Heathrow is fucking far away and the platform through which you came was the trickiest one to reach when using the airport mini train system. I told you when we met that i had had a hard time trying to get there from the platform where I originally was. [The Brazilian is thinking as a typical Latin American. Here in Mexico I have lost friends precisely because of their incredible impunctuality. Europeans are altogether different on this matter. A week later another commenter of this blog went to King’s Cross train station to pick me up from my trip to Perth. He arrived before I did. In the case of Heathrow I was coming with no sleep from another continent] And your whole allegations about me lying to you (oh, you, poor helpless child alone in London!), about me trying to take advantage of you strike me as the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard in my life.

    When did I lie to you, you idiot?

    In our phone conversation just before you traveled here I told you the people who had made my documents had been arrested [this is untrue: otherwise I’d have immediately aborted the trip; and if he said that (I doubt it) I didn’t understand his spoken English. Something as important as this should have been written in both email and Facebook communication] but that we would find other people to make your documents. I made it very clear to you. [If that were true he was so clear to warn me, I would have registered that]

    I also told you in the same conversation that I was having problems with my flatmates but that if you wanted to share a room with me, even the room where i was then, it would be a very welcome idea.

    I had to leave that flat just the day before you got to London, by a sad coincidence of events, but it did not change anything in my mind. I thought, we will stay in a cheap place for a week and then share a double room somewhere in zone 3 or 4, as it will be cheap for us and convenient for him who does not know anybody here in town.

    And you still thought I had a plan to somehow take advantage of you?!

    The notion of me trying to somehow deceive you, scheming in the shadows to manipulate you and solve my own personal problems is ridiculous. I was trying to help you, HELP YOU, you selfish, navel-gazing, fucking self-absorbed jackass. I am not a parasite. Unlike you, I don’t live at other people’s expenses. Unlike you, i’ve always fended for myself and I have taken care of myself since a very early age. Yours is a typical case of self-projection. Since you take advantage of your family, at whose expenses you live at this advanced age you are now [I only mentioned my sister to the Brazilian, not my whole family; he’s just guessing], you think that everybody is always thinking of doing the same to you. Jesus Christ!

    For what I care, you can think and write of me whatever you want, man. After this whole affair, I lost all respect for you.

    Unlike you, I don’t take advantage of people. Unlike you, I don’t go around telling lies, like you do when you tell your readers you are White. [I said explicitly in the above post that I am not “properly white” — see the pic of myself at 33 in my reply to Thordaddy and make up your mind]

    My whole plan was to stay with you in that slum for a week, move to a double room with you and share it with you, in addition to helping you get your bank account and your documents.

    I would never, ever have done anything to harm you or dupe you, or take advantage of you. [Of course not: by failing to mention the "arrest" he only ruined my whole trip]

    But what I did not count with (and I should have seen coming) was that you would turn out to be such a pussy, such a scared, precious snowflake. Judging by your writing here, I was really thinking you were this tough, rough guy who was coming to this jungle which is London to make your way here and stay here, as I did. But you were just this weakling, this crybaby afraid of your own shadow, offended like a maiden because I did not carry your luggage! [That was a comparatively minor discourtesy in a tube/bus trip of more than two hours; arriving late to the airport or insisting that I forget all emergency calls once I saw his roommates was more serious]

    What a disappointment.

    And for your information, you loser, I have left that place. My financial situation was delicate back then because august is a horrible month to get work if you work in a freelance basis as I do, but things are back to normal now and I managed to save some good money while spending a few weeks in that place. That difficult situation was just a passing thing, as any smart person would understand if could see the facts for what they were.

    Things now look pretty better and will only improve from now on. I will stay here in the First World and do something positive for me and for these people, even though I am not one of them. After all, I am not a weakling like you, man. I’m a bloke, a normal guy who gets drunk now and then, fucks the girls and stuff. [Take note that in London he mentioned a white woman he met] What exactly did you expect to find here? A zombie repeating pro-White slogans non-stop? An idealized pro-White warrior coming from Covington’s novels? I’m just a nonwhite Third Worlder living here and trying to make ends meet, even though I’m as radically pro-White as anyone out there. But don’t mistake me for yourself, man. I’m a decent person, even though I am not white, and only a self-absorbed, selfish idiot like you would not see it.

    And please, stop painting your trip in such dramatic colors. Gosh, the money you spent was not even yours, someone else gave it to you, for God’s sake! [That an old lady, not family by the way, donated travel money doesn’t mean that the money was not mine after her donation]

    Fuck you and all your bitching, moaning and crying for yourself, man.

    Fuck your self-pity.

    Man up.

    Man up, leave your family’s orbit, get a job, do something in the real world instead of producing just words here on the internet (like Covington says) and weeping for the supposed injustices that the world has done to you. [Covington doesn’t have a regular job as far as I know; he lives from more robust donations than what I got]

    MAN UP, I SAY!

    The Brazilian seems to be saying that since I lucubrate with genocide therefore I should have grown a thick skin to tolerate any sort of discourtesy.

    • Hoowee this was a great read with some huge laughs.

      It’s like something from Miguel de Cervantes without the self-awareness.

      But, back to a voice from reality, your Brazilian above does have the correct take on things. What did you expect? The red carpet laid out and a 22 gun salute?

      That being said, it was a nice ironic touch that you were “saved” by the courtesy of an Irish woman.

      • I didn’t expect red carpet. The commenter who picked me up at King’s Cross can ascertain that (perhaps he’ll say something here). Even leaving all “discourteous” behavior aside the problem was that the Brazilian didn’t warn me properly about the “arrest” and my trip turned into a fool’s errand big time.

        P.S. As to the “Irish woman” I had to pay for the week I spent there, of course: a very decent and clean place including its huge, typical Scottish breakfasts. In fact, I recommend Clark Kimberly Guest House to anyone visiting Perth.

        P.P.S. Finally, you are mad at me exactly for the same reason that Thordaddy got mad. I told both that you were not longer welcome to troll (yes: I deleted your 2nd comment) and that this site is not for practicing, serious Christians like you guys.

  19. Well at least no one was an informant. Progress.

  20. Yesterday I was rereading The Turner Diaries and today that I read my interpolated notes in the Brazilian’s rant (here) I see that they are just that: interpolated notes, not a proper reply.

    The reply is simple. We belong to two completely different worlds. There are millions like the Brazilian here in Mexico City: people who completely lack any sort of punctuality and can even be two hours late in an appointment and, instead of apologizing, go on the offensive if you comply. I remember a 100% Aryan, German girl with Mexican passport I met long ago after a friend didn’t show up in a cafeteria. She told me she could not stand that behavior; that such behavior robs your precious time.

    The Brazilian confuses non-toughness (“self pity”, “man up”, “snowflake”, “pussy”, etc., etc.) with elemental respect and civility for the other person. I remember perfectly the story of a Nazi officer in one of those death camps that the Enemy is fond of propagandizing who, in spite of the fact that he had to work in hellish conditions in the camp, was extremely punctual. People like the Brazilian, on the other hand, carry their Third World culture into the First World and expect that westerners will adapt to their third-worldly ways. They easily fall into the category error (“man up!”, etcetera) if one tries to convey the simple notion that they cannot behave that way on western soil. The Nazi officer might have been genocidal, but that doesn’t mean that for his toughness he now could be a “fair game” target of irresponsible and unpunctual fellow Germans—this would be what logicians call “the category error”.

    I had been in London before. I perfectly knew it was a jungle and that Dostoyevsky had described the hell of London even before it became a multiracial cesspool. My complain about London per se was published in the Addenda. But in his rant the Brazilian has constructed an emotional strawman (I was not criticizing London; only his character) that only can appeal to other drunks like Pat, above. In the above article, a page of my vindictive autobiography, the purpose is not “self-pity” but settling scores with the behavior of a third world-er, which is an altogether different subject. The Brazilian’s rhetoric may be effective for some, but easily detected if analyzed.

    The fatal error I committed before the trip, and this is a lesson for all those who meet people over the net, is that I supposed that—although I exactly knew the type of the Brazilian in Mexico—he belonged to another class. A blunder of course, because I had to meet him personally to disabuse myself from such idealized vision. Later in my trip I met real gentlemen at the London Forum—real, old-fashioned gentlemen, as well as Kemp and the other commenter who picked me up at King’s Cross mentioned above. My mistake was precisely mistaking the Brazilian with someone like any of them.

    It is not about money. My family may live in comfort but since I rebelled decades ago I became penniless. It’s all about kindness, civility, gentlemanly: virtues that even genocidal Nazis may have with other Nazis in the grimmest jobs. In other words, since I am perfectly aware of the type of lumpen that the Brazilian belongs, had I known that before I’d have treated him quite differently.

    I’ll now read the last pages of The Turner Diaries whose main characters, despite being as genocidal as my wildest fantasies, always behaved responsibly, punctually and with due civility among themselves. Time to leave the London subject behind…

    • Chechar, I think the real “fatal error” that you “committed before the trip” was planning to do something illegal — getting forged documents so you could get a good-paying, non-laboring job in Britain.

      Since you are not a criminal yourself, but you wanted to benefit from a crime (forgery of government documents), you put your trust in a mulatto, perhaps because blacks in general are criminally inclined and so you just assumed a partial nigger, the Brazilian, would have the criminal connections needed to ultimately deliver the wanted forged documents to you.

      Just because the Brazilian was presumably working in Britain does not necessarily mean that he had forged documents, since a lot of the illegals in the USA are paid in cash for their labor, with no documents involved and no reporting of such payments to the USA taxing authority (the Internal Revenue Service). The same cash-payment-for-work is probably common in Britain among illegal immigrants as it is in the USA. However, those kinds of jobs are typically physically demanding, and not the kind of job an older intellectual such as yourself would want or even be good at, so I can understand why you wanted forged documents.

      Aside from that, the low-res out-of-focus photo that you posted above of the Brazilian makes him appear light-skin with almost human (non-nigger) facial features. However, his closely-cropped hair looks frizzy, so is that nigger hair he has? Also, since he comes across in his writings as intelligent, did he have a “white” or nearly “white” mother?

      • I don’t remember the details of his ancestry, but this guy has indeed forged documentation to be accepted in jobs. I doubt the “gentlemen” I spoke above, on the other hand, had connections in the underworld.

      • >”this guy has indeed forged documentation to be accepted in jobs”

        Did you actually hold and look at his forged physical documentation and study it to verify it was for him and that it actually closely looked like whatever real British-government documentation it was supposed to imitate?

      • That’s his claim: a forged Portuguese passport and a fake Social Security but I didn’t see it.

        Perhaps you’d like to know that, of the illegal Mexicans I met in California and Texas, most of them had forged permits. Only when they do income tax the government knows since the SS number is nonexistent. But the US government doesn’t care as long as they pay the taxes.

      • Hypothetically, even if he did have forged documents, did it ever occur to you that he probably got them in Brazil, before he then flew to Britain. It would seem to me that he would have a better chance to get a forged Portuguese passport in Brazil, a country where he already lives and where he already knows many people, than in a country (Britain) where he is a foreigner and a stranger.

      • Who knows? All I know is that he said he had “nigger friends” who had lived in London long before he got there. And what’s certain to me is that the forged green cards I saw in the USA were made there, not in Mexico.

      • Oh, okay on the forged green cards in the USA as being made in the USA, at least some of them, that’s probably true.

  21. NOTE:

    Sorry that I’ve been deleting a few comments. After responding to the Brazilian’s rant I lost my patience, e.g., with trolling comments by Pat and more legit criticism by Thordaddy, which I also deleted (perhaps unfairly), as well as personal questions from other commenters. In the Spanish branch to this blog for example I’ve even been asked what happened to Catalina, whose likeness with Lady Violet in my “parting word” made them wonder.

    I didn’t reply. I’ve lost much time responding to comments in this thread: most of it legit commentariat and a few trolling. Since I am trying to write the book from now on I won’t be responding to personal, biographical questions. Reason: the biographical record is already set straight in Hojas Susurrantes, and what I didn’t confess there will appear in the printed version of this new book. (Incidentally, here in WDH I’ll only translate a sample chapter, the first one.)

    There are no “secrets” in my life for those who know Spanish and read Hojas Susurrantes, but questions about my relationships, family, ancestors, mad loves etc., won’t be responded in the threads. Just purchase the book(s) if you know the language.

    Cheers.

  22. [3413-word post with long Castaneda quotes removed by admin - see below]

    • Arch… That was an inspirational response.

      Chechar, this post read like an invitation to your readers to put forth personal critiques of a planned event gone terribly awry. Before I reached Arch Stanton’s “lost souls” comment, I paused to put a physiognomical label to the picture you provided. “Cunningly lost,” is what came to mind. Clearly, I was drawn to what reads, at a cursory perusal, something that seems to touch on genuine white Supremacy. But now, I just feel you are either highly intelligent radical liberationist (white male nerd… Doubly redundant, yes) or perhaps even more cunningly, a seller of a state of lost-ness. A radical autonomist.

    • Arch, I’ve lost patience to argue reincarnation or Carlos Castaneda—big liar.

      I know the real Indians here and they never speak like Zen masters as in Castaneda’s fictional novels. This is not a blog for those who believe in idiocies. I spent decades of my life believing in religious / esoteric / paranormal stuff and it was a GIGANTIC loss. I explain everything in the books and won’t reply here what’s already explained there (all of this so-called “spirituality” is mental disease for whites).

      Even if most of my stuff is in Spanish, read what’s translated. It provides the base to grasp why all this quest for the supernatural reflects a truly diseased mind. Ironically, the Brazilian is light-years ahead of you all regarding religion, as shown in one of my comments above (here).

      SEE ALSO MY NOTE ABOVE:

      https://chechar.wordpress.com/2014/09/17/extermination-i/#comment-48663

    • Arch, although Chechar deleted the text of your post from this thread, at least those who had already posted in this thread and checked the “Notify me of new comments via email” box, got to see your text in the email they got, including myself.

      I skipped most of the Castaneda quotes in your post since I agree with Chechar that Castaneda’s books are works of fiction. But I read the rest of your post, and it was very thoughtful by you and overall insightful, and I wish you well in your current life.

      • I deleted Arch’s comment because what I said in the NOTE for all commenters above. Besides, he has not been really following what I have said. This for example is one of his sentences in the deleted comment, a sentence I now restore:

        Your experience with the Brazilian evolved from an irrational fear of an imagined event. Fear, as you discovered, leads one to make some of the worst decisions.

        “Imagined event” my ass! This is what’s coming:

        Arch also quoted an anti-white mystic we debunked in The Fair Race. This is one of the deleted phrases by Arch : “As Buddha said…” and a couple of paragraphs later he wrote: “That is why great teachers like Jesus…”

        Has Arch read my many entries on “Jesus” and the New Testament studies? Why commenters start pouring here gross metaphysic nonsense after we have explicitly debunked the whole lot is beyond me. (Unless of course, they have not really read this site or the PDFs.)

      • Chechar,

        You can at least be intellectually vigorous in noting that a national socialist DOES NOT EQUAL a genuine white Supremacist.

  23. On October 1st the Brazilian posted another rant that I didn’t let pass. The rant started with the phrase: “You are framing the whole discussion as if it was my personal responsibility to make your moving to London be successful.”

    No: in the overture to my book I framed the discussion to settle scores with a 3rd world-er who is, as we say in Mexico, “indio bajado del cerro a tamborazos” (Indian down the hill to drumbeats): someone who knows zero gentlemanly ways in contrast to the white people I met in England, including those at the London Forum that recently merited an admiring article by Greg Johnson at Counter-Currents (here).

    I won’t quote his long, second rant in toto. Suffice it to note a few points.

    He says that, with no sleep for two nights straight and with hotels charging a fortune in London, I should not have resorted to Plan B (tourist Scotland to get some sleep) but simply stick to Plan A (make a living in London)—and even trusting him for such endeavor (after all he did) to get the damned forged papers!

    The Brazilian also wrote, “This narrative you have woven about me not having told you about the arrest of the people who gave me my papers is preposterous. What is the relevance of such incident?”

    He’s still clueless about the fact that if I went to London it was because I believed his contact was free! Had I stick to Plan A I would have needed more money to stay in ultra-expensive London (not in the Brazilian’s snakepit of course, which causes so much stress that even he lost his mind wandering in downtown) and try to contact Spanish-speaking people in, say, restaurants. It could have taken more than a month to find someone I trusted enough to give him hundreds of pounds with no receipt for forged documentation. The incredible thing is that even two months after my black Monday the Brazilian cannot figure out that he should have warned me before I crossed the Atlantic. Failure to do so would obviously mean automatic end of the trust I had deposited in him, forever.

    In his second rant the Brazilian also makes this incredible claim: “I am just someone who tried to help you…” Jesus. And still further: “I greeted you at the airport instead of taking a work shift to make money that day”. More Jesus Christ!

    This idiot simply can’t accept any fault of his own. (I accepted plenty: I blamed me for the trip’s failure.) Had I known he would be so late at the airport I’d have taken a taxi and gone straight to my already paid hotel. I was the one who did the courtesy of waiting him like an absolute idiot—the typical idiotic courtesy whites have with 3rd world scum—instead of getting sleep after a sleepless night over the Atlantic.

    The complaining about something so elemental—a place to sleep!—the Brazilian interprets, as he wrote, “But since not everything was to your liking and delivered to you on a silver tray…” And still further: “Your behavior in this whole affair matches the literal dictionary definition of ungratefulness: ‘failure or refusal to acknowledge receipt of something good from another’.”

    Jesus Christ in Heaven: He really believes that he did me a favor!

    Scott Peck’s definition of evil stands: Evil is militant blindness of not seeing that you did a wrong. I will expand such definition in the second chapter of this book, where I’ll analyze the mind of those who really destroyed my life (not the Brazilian of course: what he did is only an extremely superficial scratch of the real wrongs I was subjected decades ago).

  24. […] Por cierto, traduje el “post” de arriba en cuatro entradas al inglés: I, II, III y IV. […]

  25. Well, what a crazy experience that must have been….Why did you want to come to the UK for? England is a hellhole, and Scotland and Ireland are heading in that direction as well.

    I’ve been living in London for many years and I’m trying to save some money and get out of this terrible place; it’s overrun by third world subhumans and the government with the part-jewish prime minister David Cameron is completely anti-European…Even a lot of the whites here are fucking garbage so this country should be avoided.

    It would be much better to try moving to a place like Iceland or maybe even Uruguay or Argentina which are mostly white countries; Uruguay is actually more European than the UK or France at the moment…


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