La Blouse Roumaine


Left, The Romanian Blouse by Nicolae Grigorescu (1838-1907).

I understand better and better why almost no white advocate values Pierce’s book, which opened my eyes to the real history of the West. And I’m not just referring to this recent exchange with a commenter. I am also referring to what is said outside this site.

In this recent conversation between an American and a Romanian we see the causes. Both are Christians and both are clueless about the double aetiology of the dark hour of Westerners: their religion and how WW2 ended up enthroning the gospels’ suicidal message, even in the secular world.

The American and the Romanian speak of how the Jews took over the US, but they fail to clarify how it was that the Americans so easily sold their souls to the devil. For example, Hunter Wallace concedes that southerners lost power after the American Civil War, and that the Yankees in turn ceded power to Jews in the decades from the 1920s to the 1940s. But not a word did he say, nor did his interviewer, that there was a war both ideological and of blood and fire against Jewry in those decades.

Their blindness has to do with Christianity. A few years ago I wondered why Solzhenitsyn, whom I quoted in my post yesterday, ‘Weirwood tree’, did not support Nazism if he wanted so badly to liquidate the Soviet state. Some years ago an Englishman answered me, on this site, that it was due to Solzhenitsyn’s religion (the same religion of the Romanian girl).

After 1:20 the Romanian, an Eastern Orthodox Christian, said: ‘We will have a strong Christian revival’ and added: ‘Christianity is part of who we are’. Let’s compare it with what is said in Who We Are (new visitors to this blog would do well to read it).

Only later did they start talking about the aftermaths of the Chinese virus, without realising that the dollar is going to fall. But that’s another song.

2 Comments

  1. That Romanian female has one of the worst voices that I have ever heard ever. I could tolerate Wallace’s voice even when he speaks nonsense, but the sheer sound of that woman’s voice is like nails on a blackboard.

    • Ditto.


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