Day of Wrath, 21

Four years ago I had posted this chapter here but now, that I’ve used engines to check the grammar, I realised the old text was plagued with syntactic inaccuracies. Although I feel it is greatly improved (see below) I can never be sure as English is not my native language. Now that the revision is almost compete, as soon as I order a proof copy, and get it from Amazon Books, the softcover will be available again for the general public.

 

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(Abridged Spanish-English translation
from the introduction to ¿Me Ayudarás?)

 

Men are the devils of the earth, and
animals are their tormented souls.

—Schopenhauer

 
At fifty-three, I received a surprise in what in Hojas Susurrantes I call the cursed house. Someone had left a box on the shelf outside the bathroom for visitors. When I opened it I saw something that amazed me. A divine little animal! He looked like a very young bunny but it was so beautiful and graceful that it could not be a rabbit, I told myself. It took me a long time to recognize that he was really a white bunny, but so otherworldly it seemed to me that I had difficulty in reconciling my two hemispheres: one telling me that it could only be a divine creature, and another telling me that it was a little rabbit that had come into the world not long ago.

Almost abandoned in a non-custodial box, it had been one among many gift bunnies to the kids at a birthday party that one of my irresponsible siblings had bought, the father of the celebrated child. Elsewhere I might tell how I came to interact with the creature, whom I would rescue from an uncertain destiny due to the pettiness of my family and the Mexicans in general. I had never interacted in such way with an animal before. In fact, I had never wanted to have a pet even though I did not get married and have no offspring. But seeing a being so helpless and at the mercy of the modified apes in my family moved me to adapt it. Elsewhere I may tell anecdotes, but the only thing I can add now is that, over time, the white rabbit would help me in my way out from the inverted world of Alice.

A little less than two and a half years later I would receive a great shock. The Mirror reported that four teenagers from Seaham in Durham, England, tortured and murdered Percy: a bunny who, in the picture that can be seen online with the naked young people, seems identical to my pet; now, an adult rabbit. They tried to shave and rape Percy; set her on fire, tried to drown her and then threw her dying but still alive from the window. The human monsters, all white, even recorded on their cell phone what they did: a video that the owner of the bunny could not see when the police arrested the perpetrators; only a frozen image to identify it. The punishment for these criminals was negligible in today’s Britain. I would have tortured them—exactly what they did to the rabbit—and then cast them out the window to let them die in agony lying on the ground (eye for an eye). In fact, if by a miracle of fate an extraterrestrial force had empowered me on my latest visit to the United Kingdom, I would have done it.

We must bear in mind that if the Anglo-Saxon demons had allowed Germany an empire from the Atlantic to the Urals, in the areas under the Nazi flag the torment of the animals would have been greatly reduced. Personally, I regard Hermann Göring one of my patron saints: and he should also be for those who long for a world free of this type of abuse. Let us not forget the 1933 caricature in which the freed animals—“No more vivisection! No more experimentation with animals!”—salute their savior Hermann.

Unlike my beloved Nazis, in one of my blogs I spoke of what non-Nazis are capable of doing with defenseless animals. I mentioned fur coats factories in China where some mammals are skinned alive; farms in Mexico where they hang rabbits from their ears until they die, which has also happened in some Australian farms. That and what they did to Percy pierced my soul. Her photograph in The Mirror shows her in a posture of serene confidence before the humans who would torture her: identical image to the postures of my own little bunny who, accustomed as Percy was to her benign owner, relaxes placidly in human presence. The betrayal of the universe that Percy had to experience before the change from her angelic owner to human devils must have been such that I caressed the idea of dedicating this volume to her memory.

Although what those damned humans did in Durham was condemned by other Englishmen, so-called normal people are not left behind. Humans whom I consider exterminable are able to pour concentrated solutions into laboratory rabbits, and to prevent them from closing their eyes, hold their eyelids with tongs. How many women ignore that their cosmetic products have been tested in this way… This happens today with the approval of society precisely because the Second World War was won by the wicked. Few know that from 1944 to 1947 the Soviets and the Americans, including Jews on both sides, practiced a real holocaust of Germans, the “Hellstorm,” preventing among other things that the benign policies of Hermann, who had saved our mammals cousins in the very brief historical window that represented the Third Reich, were implemented in the West after the war.

Science philosopher Thomas Kuhn used the optical illusion of the duck-rabbit to show how a paradigm shift causes one to see the same information in a completely different way. If Westerners had not been brainwashed, instead of seeing a duck (the Nazis were bad) they would see a rabbit (actually they were the good guys). I noticed this psychological phenomenon in 1992 when I studied the so-called Faces of Bélmez in a small town in Andalusia.

(The author at thirty-three in Spain’s “House of the Faces”.) Originally I believed that the faces of Mrs. María Gómez Cámara’s kitchen were a paranormal phenomenon until, once, seeing the face called “La Pelona” (part of the concrete block with this image is behind my back in the photo above), I made a change in my inner subjectivity. I experienced the sensation that the crude strokes of the face were the work of a human hand, debunking the parapsychological investigation in which I had placed my hopes. Perhaps in the future I will have a life to write the details of that adventure in Spain. Suffice it to say that the paradigm shift comes from the internal will. Following Kuhn’s example, the volitional faculty of my mind stopped seeing a bird and discovered another small animal.

The same can happen in our inner eye as we transcend Christian and neo-Christian values to their National Socialist antithesis. Many white nationalists, mostly Christian theists and Neochristian atheists, are frightened by The Turner Diaries. Unlike William Pierce, with their stupid love for the modified apes they condemn other animals to a torture of millennia—as potentially the Aryans, who are extinguishing themselves, are capable of becoming Görings. For a truly integrated individual it is obvious that moral is putting a screeching stop to the sadism towards our cousins, and the only way to do this is to get rid of the human devils. A change from love to hatred towards sinful humanity—great hatred I mean: a hatred à la Yahweh in the mouth of Jeremiah—represents a paradigm shift.

Do you remember the quote from Arthur Clarke’s Childhood’s End that I included in the fifth and final book of Hojas Susurrantes? In this novel human beings are metamorphosed into a higher entity. I will quote one of those passages again. In the novel “Karellen” was the leader of the extraterrestrial visitors, physically indistinguishable from the iconography of the devils:

“If you want a single proof of the essential—how shall I put it—benevolence of the Overlords, think of that cruelty-to-animals order which they made within a month of their arrival. If I had had any doubts about Karellen before, that banished them—even though that order has caused me more trouble than anything else he’s ever done!

That was scarcely an exaggeration, Stormgren thought. The whole incident had been an extraordinary one, the first revelation of the Overlords’ hatred of cruelty. That, and their passion for justice and order, seemed to be the dominant emotions in their lives—as far as one could judge them by their actions.

And it was the only time Karellen had shown anger, or at least the appearance of anger. “You may kill one another if you wish,” the message had gone, “and that is a matter between you and your own laws. But if you slay, except for food or in self-defense, the beasts that share your world with you—then you may be answerable to me.”

No one knew how comprehensive this ban was supposed to be, or what Karellen would do to enforce it. They had not long to wait.

The Plaza de Toros was full when the matadors and their attendants began their processional entry. Everything seemed normal; the brilliant sunlight blazed harshly on the traditional costumes, the great crowd greeted its favorites as it had a hundred times before. Yet here and there faces were turned anxiously towards the sky, to the aloof silver shape fifty kilometers above Madrid.

Then the picadors had taken up their places and the bull had come snorting out into the arena. The skinny horses, nostrils wide with terror, had wheeled in the sunlight and their riders forced them to meet their enemy. The first lance flashed—made contact—and at that moment came a sound that had never been heard on earth before.

It was the sound of ten thousand people screaming with the pain of the same wound—ten thousand people who, when they had recovered from the shock, found themselves completely unharmed. But that was the end of that bullfight, and indeed of all bullfighting, for the news spread rapidly.

Before I woke up to the real world and stopped diabolizing Hitler, Childhood’s End had been my favorite book. Now I see that the devil Karellen, as Clarke painted him, was too magnanimous with humans. The mere fact that there are seedy slaughterhouses should move us to take more drastic measures than those of that character.

In Mexico the calves are enclosed in compartments so narrow that they cannot even turn inside the cage. As adults, farmers cut horns, castrate and mark with iron without anesthesia. In trucks on the way to the slaughterhouses, the animals sometimes spend more than a day without food or drink, arriving thirsty and dizzy to the Inferno. The first thing the poor animal sees in the slaughterhouse is a Dantesque spectacle: puddles of blood and corpses skinned or torn from other cows; severed heads on the ground… She enters the first circles of hell in a state of panic. At the seventh circle the blow that the slaughterer gives the cow’s head does not always kill her. Sometimes this noble animal is only wounded, in a state of shock and with the deepest pain, wondering without language why the demons of Hell do what they do to her. Humans are so exterminable that they throw live pigs into a pond of boiling water so that the pain of the Gehenna fire causes the animal to release its hairs. (In Mexico people are fond of eating pork rind—a delicacy for my father by the way—and they dislike seeing hairs on it.) The Spaniards do not stay too far behind. They prepare the bull in a bullfight to make it less dangerous: they cut off the tips of the horns, they put vaseline on his eyes to cloud his vision and an irritating solution on his legs so that the bull is always moving in the ring. (Long before they would have stuck a needle in his genitals to atrophy its growth.) They put tow in the nose to make it hard for him to breathe, they give him strong laxatives before the bullfight, and hit his loins and kidneys with sacks before he faces the bullfighter. And let’s not talk about what can be seen on television at both sides of the Atlantic once the bull goes out to the arena.

Only until now can the strength of my unconscious be glimpsed during my dream in Madrid [recounted also in the introduction to ¿Me Ayudarás?]. If we pass the dream from the unconscious not only to consciousness but to super-consciousness, it means that most human beings should not exist. It is not enough that, according to the polls, most Spaniards of today do not care about bullfighting. The mere fact that they and other peoples are involved in the chain of cruelty to animals—whether using a feminine vanity product that was experimented in the eyes of a bunny or gobbling fried skin from a pig that had been submerged alive in boiling water—should be enough to arouse the exterminationist hatred of the savior devil. Consider for example this passage from a comment by one J. Marone, who in 2005 reviewed for Amazon Books Slaughterhouse: The Shocking Story of Greed, Neglect, and Inhuman Treatment Inside the US Meat Industry:

Cows, pigs and chickens are taken through the slaughter house alive. Cows are often alive all the way through the line, this includes while they are getting their legs chopped off with cutters—imagine that… They do not stop the line for these inconveniences. The workers shove electric prods in their rectums and eyes—deep into the sockets occasionally pulling out the eye to get them moving to the slaughter line.

After reading this I will never eat another piece of meat again. It is not my decision to make any other living thing suffer. But I find it amazing that when you go to share this book, people don’t want to know. They would rather stay ignorant and that in itself has shocked me tremendously.

The italics in the last paragraph are mine and express why it is not enough for humans to claim ignorance, as almost every adult has heard what happens in the slaughterhouses.

When in my preparations to write this chapter I began to read what was happening in those places, I promised myself, like Marone, not to put again pieces of mammalian or bird carcasses into my mouth. I do not believe in the postmortem survival of the soul. However, until one has stopped eating meat (or derivatives from tormented animals), a part of our soul remains unawakened. This goes back to what was stated in the previous pages, which expose the psychogenic evolution of man. If in childrearing the Spaniards represented a psychogenic quantum leap compared to the Amerindians who still ate the flesh of their children, a new leap means to develop, in our times, empathy towards our cousins of the animal kingdom. Unlike Hitler and the vegetarians at the top of the Nazi party most Aryans have not gone through that leap, not even neo-Nazis. It is enough to see the photographs of mammals in laboratory experiments that are carried out throughout North America and Europe to perceive that the human being is truly a wicked species. I will not incur the rudeness of adding those photographs in this text: a task I leave to my readers.

My exterminating fantasies would not seem unhealthy if we do another thought experiment. In Dies Irae I quoted a non-fiction book by Arthur Clarke where he talked about the “judgment from the Stars” that earthlings could experience. If we imagine that in real life someone similar to a Karellen visited our planet, what is the first thing he would see from his distant silver ships, far above the human tingling? Urban spots. Industries that destroy the environment and, bringing his cameras closer, abject human misery and inconceivable suffering of the other species that share the planet with us. If, as in Clarke’s novel, the visitor also possessed machines to open a visual window to the past to study the species, he would perceive that, besides the hell that the naked apes subject their cousins, through history and prehistory they had behaved in an absolutely horrendous way with their own children. It does not hurt to summarize the revelations of the previous pages.

With his machines to literally see the human past this hypothetical extraterrestrial would be taken aghast by the magnitude of infanticide: nine percent of all human births. He would see thousands of young children slaughtered ritually, offered to the goddess of Babylon. He would see the infant sacrifices of the Pelasgians, the Syrians, the sacrifices in Gezer and in Egypt of the centuries that the earthlings call 10th to 8th before Christ. And let’s not talk about what the visitor would see with his machines when focusing on the ancient Semites of Carthage, where the burning of living children ordered by their own parents reached levels that surpassed the exclamation of Sahagún. Something similar could be seen by our visitor about other Phoenicians, Canaanites, Moabites, Sepharvaim, and ancient Hebrews: who in their origins offered their firstborn as a sacrifice to their gods. With his magic to see our past, the alien visitor would learn that both the exposure and the abandonment of infants continued in Europe until a council took action against the custom of leaving the children to die in the open.

With technology based on unimaginable principles the visitor would also see much worse behavior in the lands of colored people: thousands of babies, mostly women, abandoned in the streets of ancient China, and how those babies that were not abandoned were put in cold water until they died. He would see how in feudal Japan the baby was suffocated with wet paper covering her nose and mouth; how infanticide was systematic in the feudal Rajputs in India, sometimes throwing the living children to the crocodiles; and how in pre-Islamic Arabia they buried alive not a few newborns. The visitor would also see that the sub-Saharan inhabitants of Africa killed their children much more frequently than other races did. He would even see that the sacrifice of children in Zimbabwe was practiced as recently as the beginning of the century that the earthlings call the 20th century. The window to the past would also make visible the incredibly massive slaughter of infants among the natives of the countless islands of Oceania, New Guinea and even more so among the extremely primitive aborigines of Australia, Tasmania and Polynesia. He would realize that in the American tribes, including the redskins, infanticide continued at a time when the practice had been abandoned in Europe. The same happened not only in Central American and South American tribes, but also in the civilizations prior to the Spanish conquest: where the ritual sacrifice of women and children suggests that they did it out of pure sadism. Finally, the visitor would see how, after the Conquest, the sacrificial institution of the Mesoamerican and Inca Indians was forbidden only to be transferred to the animals in the so-called santería in times when our visitor no longer has to use his devices to open the Complete Book of History and Prehistory of the species he studies.

It’s clear where I want to go… If it is legitimate for this hypothetical extraterrestrial to remove from the face of the Earth a newly-arrived species whose haughtiness blinds them from seeing their evil ways, how can it be pathological for an earthling to arrive at identical conclusions? Just because, unlike the visitor, he lacks technological power? The sad truth is that the infanticidal passion and cruelty of primitive humans have not been atoned, only transferred to our cousins.

In Dies Irae I talked about the Star-Child. An eschatology from above would be a son of man who returned on the clouds with great power and glory to judge humanity, or, in the new version of the myth, a David Bowman in a sphere of light approaching Earth. But I, who am skeptical of both personal deities and intelligent civilizations in the Milky Way, could conceive, rather than an eschatology “from above”, an eschatology “from below.” I am referring to the intrapsychic evolution of a human being by developing an infinitely more intense empathy than that developed by the bulk of the modified apes (whom I call Neanderthals).

In other words, the rhetoric currently used by child and animal protectors in the West is just a first babbling of what we have in mind. Unlike the hypothetical Star-Child, the most fanatical animal protectors I have met do not even dare to see that, in addition to humans, there are other species that must be removed from the earth and its oceans. A Star-Child with mile-high empathy and powers would not tolerate, for example, the torture of hours that a pack of killer whales inflict on a whale calf by killing her to tear out her tongue. And the images of hyenas eating a small elephant alive—there are video recordings of how a member of the pack rips off the trunk from the small elephant—speak for themselves and we do not need to think much about how we would proceed.

Regardless of the cruelty of animals with animals, the hatred that the metamorphosed human also feels towards the modified apes that surround him can be glimpsed in the following anecdote. Before visiting England with plans to emigrate I left my pet in the cursed house that, as we saw in the fifth book of Hojas Susurrantes, is virtually on a freeway that goes out to the Cuernavaca highway where trucks and cars are constantly passing, even in the wee hours of the morning. Seeing my bunny in a cultivated garden that is paradise for him, but wrapped in such noise, especially at night, I imagined, with powers à la Bowman, eliminating each and every one of the Mexicans who drive through that stretch of the road in order to avoid the background roar for the little animal. Such a fantasy would not seem far-fetched if, in the new tablets of the law, we value the naked apes negatively; and noble species of animals, like some lagomorph mammals, positively regardless of the relative size of their brains or sophistication of their culture. It does not matter that to cleanse the freeway from humans it is necessary to eliminate millions of Mexicans, since literally millions are taking that road. The interests of a single bunny trump the interests of millions of humans, insofar as the modified apes are valued on the negative side of our scale.

Except for a few nymphs as beautiful as Catalina residing here (see the cover of The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour) no one else from the inhabitants of this city is worthy. Of Creole men, for example, I know exactly no one with honor or true nobility of the soul. In an article that the author himself requested to be removed from The Occidental Observer, Farnham O’Reilly stated that Mexico City needs to be razed and transformed into a memorial atonement park dedicated to Nature. I would add that the sum of millions of modified apes in this city does not give a positive just because they are millions. It gives a great negative. In contrast, a single modified dinosaur (contemporary bird) or a lagomorph, however modest and discreet his life, is a small positive. The arithmetic with which the Star-Child judges the species of the Earth, including the primates, has little to do with the standards about the positive or the negative in the eyes of the latter. A world of cultivated forests turned into an Arcadia, and Percys that will never be molested again by monsters, is what the Earth shall inherit. It cannot be more significant that my most important works to date, Hojas Susurrantes and this one that I begin to write, are dedicated to nonhumans: a tree and a bunny.

In the final chapter of Childhood’s End the metamorphosed children eliminated all forms of animal and plant life except theirs. I do not think it is necessary to go that far. In the laws of the universe there is an Aristotelian golden mean between the apocalyptic children of the end and the law of the jungle that the naked apes currently impose. The mean lies in populating the planet with an archipelago of Elysian islands. Twenty-nine-year-old Clarke beautifully described this place with his prose: the city of Lys in his first novella, Against the Fall of Night, where, in addition to the forests and some animals, an evolved form of human being is allowed—a human in which empathy prevails and the original sin is a thing of the past. But let’s get down from the heights of Clarkean science-fiction and get back to the real world.

The monastic orders brought by the Spanish crown alongside the soldiery, including some mendicant orders that protected the natives, did not represent genuine empathy. The 16th century Spain was Don Quixote, and these orders represented a counterproductive version of empathy or compassion for those who suffer. What the Franciscans, the Dominicans, the Augustinians, and eventually the Jesuits did in the Americas was quixotic folly: to conceive the naturals as souls to be saved. In the islands of the Caribbean and Tasmania the Europeans would exterminate the natives but not having exterminated them in the American continent meant that, throughout the Colonial period, the natives displaced their sadism with their children (as we have seen) towards the animals. If, instead of catechizing them, they had been cornered, as the Americans did on this part of the continent, the New Spaniard psychoclass of the Americas would have reflected the Iberian psychoclass without the tinges of Mesoamerican sadism. The social engineering of the Counter-Reformation was the great culprit that a mestizo cruelty between Spanish bullfighting and the Amerindian sacrificial passion was born in this enormous part of the continent.

In this book [¿Me Ayudarás?] we will analyze the stubborn infatuation of my father for a Dominican who protected the Amerindians and who, with his jeremiads, originated the Black Legend against Spain. At the moment suffice it to say that the bases of my feelings towards humanity are already in these pages. Hojas Susurrantes was like the tunnel in which Dave suddenly found himself: a vortex of colored lights where, terrified, he traveled at great speed across vast distances of space, seeing bizarre cosmological phenomena and strange landscapes of unusual colors. But Hojas ends before the final metamorphosis: before the new Odysseus discovered himself as middle-aged in a bedroom designed in the style of Louis XVI; progressively seeing later versions of himself and, finally, a very old man lying in a bed.

My complete autobiography will explain how, due to the evil in my family and society, without extraterrestrial agency in the form of a black monolith at the foot of the bed of an agonizing centenary, I underwent an inner metamorphosis and now I return to hate humanity as much as the Star-Child.

On myopia and perspectivism

After Nietzsche became insane, his sister and a friend of the philosopher assembled some of his loose writings in a book she published. §481 of that book that Nietzsche never intended to publish, The Will to Power, contains this sentence: ‘In so far as the word “knowledge” has any meaning, the world is knowable; but it is interpretable [emphasis in original]. Otherwise, it has no meaning behind it, but countless meanings—“perspectivism”.’

In other words, all ideations, even white nationalist ideations, take place from particular perspectives or points of view (POVs), and there are many possible conceptual schemes, or perspectives, which judgment of value can be made by integrating different vantage points together.

The image reveals a difference of contextuality. Each perspective is subsumed into another and adds an overall objective measure: a meta-perspective.

If we illustrate perspectivism with the current paradigm in white nationalism, that Jewish subversion is the primary cause of the downfall of whites, this working hypothesis may be represented by the smallest circle. An exemplary case of this point of view is that of David Duke. (Incidentally, I liked very much his most recent podcast about the ongoing Syrian crisis: here.)

But Duke is myopic: he cannot see that the Christian problem encompasses the Jewish problem (see the second circle encompassing the smallest one). Those nationalists who doubt the accuracy of this contextualisation should read the texts that support the encompassing claim: (1) Evropa Soberana’s Rome vs. Judea, (2) Jack Frost’s PDF and (3) the recently published Why Europeans Must Reject Christianity by Ferdinand Bardamu.

But the ‘Christian problem’ POV can also be subsumed into another circle: the Aryan problem, that we also have discussed on this site (listen e.g., to Arthur Kemp’s historical perspective) and so on: the Aryan problem can be subsumed into a larger circle, what Joseph Walsh recently called ‘the human problem’ in the comments section of this site.

But the ‘human problem’ is not the largest comprehensive vantage viewpoint or ‘circle’. In the last chapter of ¿Me Ayudarás?, which is basically an autobiographical book, I go further: the human problem can be subsumed into the larger understanding of the ‘animal problem’.

I tackle this larger problem, along with the even larger contextualisation than the animal problem—the ‘bio problem’ in other planets—with my principle of the four words: eliminar todo sufrimiento innecesario. But the point is that in order to take this most encompassing principle to the stars—the circle that encompasses all others: our meta-perspective—, presently we must concrete ourselves to solve the most immediate problem, the Jewish Problem. The stars, including the choice between us or A.I. en route for the Star Child (see the image chosen for my previous post, the last instalment of Bardamu’s essay) will come only if Aryans pass all the lesser tests.

My advice to solving the Jewish Problem is precisely to get rid of Christian ethics. It is the moral compass of contemporary whites what is driving Aryans toward the abyss, including the compass of most white nationalists.

So we are stuck in the second circle in this age of treason, which is why this site focuses on the Christian Problem. In the next few days, my humble contribution will be asking Bardamu if he would allow me to include his essay in the 2018 edition of The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour.

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Ten films I recommend

1. Hamlet (1948) 

2. Sleeping Beauty (1959)

3. Andrei Rublev (1966) 

4. 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

5. Planet of the Apes (1968)

6. Death in Venice (1971)

7. Iphigenia (1977)

8. Sense and Sensibility (1995) 

9. Artificial Intelligence (2001)

10. Pride and Prejudice (2005)

Absolute relevancy

denkmal-auf-dem-holzmarkt-in-naumburg
I have noticed that people are not interested in my recent entries on Nietzsche and the New Testament (and my next entry will be none other than Karlheinz Deschner’s introduction to his ten-volume Criminal History of Christianity). Why I believe these topics are relevant for the cause?

Let’s put it this way. If inspired by Nietzsche a million Whites transvaluated Christian values, as I have already done in my mind—a process that like this poor man almost drove me mad—, most of our current problems would evaporate in a decade or so.

Incidentally, today I moved my toughest post ever written to the Addenda only because the pic of the Star Child, symbol of this New Christ or transvaluated Overman who returns to Earth over the clouds with great power and glory, combines better with the bluish colors of the Addenda than with the reddish background of this main page.

A postscript to my prolegomena

Further to what I said yesterday.

A deeper response to the questions raised by Stubbs would imply reminding my readers that, at the end of his Critique of Practical Reason, Kant said that there are two universes: the empirical universe and the subjective universe. Karl Popper comments that he who doesn’t believe in the second universe would do well to think about his own death—it is so obvious that a whole universe dies when a human being dies!

What I find nauseating in today’s academia is that it is an institution that denies the existence of this second universe. One could imagine what would happen if a student of psychology or psychiatry tried to write a lyric essay about why Nietzsche lost his mind, like the one that Stefan Zweig wrote and I have been excerpting for WDH. (And wait for the next chapters where Zweig’s story reaches its climax…)

A proper response to Stubbs would require an absolute break from the epistemological error, a category error, so ubiquitous in the academia. That is to say, we must approach such questions as if they were questions for our inner worlds.

The best way to respond to Stubbs, following what I have said about psychoclasses, is imagining that few whites have touched the black monolith of the film 2001. Those who have touched it—and here we are talking of the “second” universe that the current paradigm barely acknowledges—know that the most divine creature on Earth, the nymph, must be preserved at all costs.

This is not the sphere of objective science. Since we are talking of the ideals of our souls, let me confess that I became a white nationalist in 2009 when I lived in the Spanish island Gran Canaria, near Africa. The big unemployment that started in 2008 affected me and, without a job and completely broke, I spent a great deal of time in the internet. When I learned that a demographic winter was affecting all of the white population on planet Earth I was watching a Harry Potter film featuring a blondest female teenager. I remember that I told to myself something to the effect that, henceforward, I would defend the race with all of my teeth and claws.

However, to understand this universe I would have to tell the (tragic) story of the nymph Catalina: a pure white rose who happened to live around my home’s corner decades ago, who looked like the girl in that Parrish painting. But I won’t talk about the tragedy (something of it is recounted in Hojas Susurrantes). Suffice it to say that since then my mind has been devoted to her beauty and, by transference, it is now devoted to protect all genotype & phenotype that resembles hers…

Once we are talking from our own emergent universe (emergent compared to the Neanderthals who have not touched the monolith), Stubb’s questions are easily answered if one only dares to speak out what lies within our psyches:

So let me think of some fundamental questions that need to be answered: Why does it matter if the White race exists, if the rest of the humans are happy?

Speaks my inner universe: Because the rest of humans are like Neanderthals compared to Cro-Magnon whites. Here in Mexico I suffer real nightmares imagining the fate of the poor animals if whites go completely extinct (Amerinds are incapable of feeling the empathy I feel for our biological cousins).

Why does it matter if the White race continues to exist if I personally live my life out in comfort?

Speaks my inner universe: Because only pigs think like that. (Remember the first film of the Potter series, when Hagrid used magic to sprout a pig’s tail from Dudley’s fat bottom for gulping down Harry’s birthday cake.) We have a compromise with God’s creation even when a personal God does not exist.

Why should I be concerned with the White race if it only recently evolved from our ape-like ancestors, knowing that change is a part of the universe?

Speaks my inner universe: Because our mission is that we, not others, touch again the black monolith after four million years that one of our ancestors touched it.

Why should I be concerned with the existence of the White race if every White person is mortal, and preserving each one is futile?

Speaks my inner universe: It is a pity that no one has read The Yearling that I had been excerpting recently. I wanted to say something profound in the context of child abuse but that is a subject that does not interest WDH readers. Let me hint to what I thought after reading it.

To my mind the moral of the novel is not the moment when the father coerced his son to shoot Flag, but the very last page of Marjorie’s masterpiece. Suddenly Jody woke up at midnight and found himself exclaiming “Flag!” when his pet was already gone.

moment of eternity

The poet Octavio Paz once said that we are mortals, yes: but those “portions of eternity,” as a boy playing with his yearling, are the sense of the universe. The empirical (now I am talking of the external) universe was created precisely to give birth to these simple subjective moments: figments that depict our souls like no other moments in the universe’s horizon of events.

Why should I be concerned with preserving the White race if all White people who live will suffer, some horribly, and none would suffer if they were wiped out?

Speaks my inner universe: The boy suffered horribly when his father obliged him to murder Flag, yes. But the moment of eternity, as depicted in Wyeth’s illustration, had to be lived. It will probably leave a mark if another incarnation of the universe takes place…

Dies Irae

For a few years I have been reading racialist literature and have come to the conclusion that William Luther Pierce ought to be considered the central intellectual figure of American racialism (George Lincoln Rockwell on the other hand was perhaps the noblest individual on this side of the Atlantic). Besides his superb essays Pierce inaugurated the novelesque genre of a revolutionary takeover of white societies, and his axiological ruminations about the history of the white race in Who We Are are still unsurpassed among American racists. Unlike the national socialists and William Pierce, nowadays white advocates are comfortably living under the sky of Christian and liberal ethics, as I will try to argue in this article. Greg Johnson for one, the editor-in-chief of the webzine Counter-Currents Publishing, has been ambivalent on Pierce. He wrote:

Some time later, on April 22, 2000, I purchased [the novels] The Turner Diaries and Hunter from Dent Myers at his Wildman’s Shop in Kennesaw, Georgia. Frankly, I found them repulsive, The Turner Diaries in particular. Pierce may have been inspired by National Socialism, but his model of revolution was pure Lenin and his model of government pure Stalin. If he had the power, he would have killed more people than Lenin, Stalin, Mao, and Pol Pot combined.

Johnson, overwhelmed by his morals, is not even recognizing here that the national socialists were the good guys for Aryan preservation, and the heads of the states he mentions the bad guys.

He epitomizes everything about the Old Right model that I reject: one party politics, totalitarianism, terrorism, imperialism, and genocide. At the time, I remarked that as a novelist and political theorist Pierce was a first rate physicist.

I regarded him as a monster…

Take note that Johnson’s webzine is considered by some the crème de la crème of white nationalist blogsites, something like a haute culture magazine for the sophisticate, and that he presents himself as a fan of Friedrich Nietzsche to his readership. The trouble with Johnson is not only that he’s living a double life—criticizing Christianity online and delivering pious, traditional homilies at the Swedenborgian Church of San Francisco—; he really wants to have it both ways. Sometimes he seems to be in favor of revolutionary action but other times he condemns violence. In Johnson’s own words in his so-called “New Right” manifesto, “the only gun I want to own is made of porcelain.” Doesn’t this amount to say that he rejects winning, since throughout history there has been no nation-building without violence? This is Alex Linder’s pronouncement on Johnson: “His attempt to claim heir to the legacy of Hitler and Mussolini while renouncing actual fighting, and going beyond that to denounce those men’s movements in pretty much the same terms Jews do [“I regarded him as a monster…”] is simply bizarre. And that, in particular, he should not be allowed to get away with.”

Elsewhere I have quoted Nietzsche’s Zarathustra having in mind Johnson’s manifesto. But what would a genuine Zarathustran voice sound like? Simply put it, someone who advocates the transvaluation of values back to the pre-Christian mores in the West.

Hitler contemplating a bust of Nietzsche

What stands between Moses’ old Tablets and Zarathustra’s new, half-written Tablets—the new ethical code that, ideally, will rule white behavior in a coming thousand-year Reich? At Radio Free Mississippi, Linder has blamed Christian scruples by way of an example. My paraphrases: What would be our first reflex when watching an adult, African-American male in a park replete with blond, unprotected toddlers? Pull the trigger on the intruding nigger of course! Linder then asked rhetorically what on Earth is functioning as malware for the white mind that impedes us from following our primitive, natural instincts? His answer: “It’s Christianity,” in the sense that our basic moral grammar is Christian even among atheists: a sort of hypertrophy of our sense of decency from a survivalist point of view.

Even racialist Christians concede a point. Brad Griffin, a southern nationalist, has been unearthing citations of the Yankee mentality in antebellum America. Griffin’s conclusion is that abolitionism was caused by “a moral, religious, and ideological revolution in worldview,” and that “the twin doctrines that are to blame for our decline, which brought about this critical shift in moral outlook, are the Enlightenment’s ideology of liberal republicanism and the spread of evangelical Christianity.” Griffin of course is afraid to mention the C word: Christianity without adjectives. In my own words, the moral grammar ingrained to our psyches that places limits to the fourteen words comes not only from Christianity, but from Christianity’s secular offshoot, liberalism or as I like to say, “Neochristianity” (see The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour).
 

Billions will die, we will win

Are you a Nietzschean or, like Johnson and many white nationalists, a religious Christian / secular Neochristian? The following is my litmus test to gauge who, despite claims to the contrary, is still internalizing the meta-ethics of our parents instead of taking a leap into full-blown Nietzscheanism. In the coming racial wars of the 21st century that, according to Guillaume Faye, will come under the apocalyptic sign of Mars and Hephaestus, how many racial enemies do you think will have to be slain to fulfill the fourteen words? This is my straight answer: If I have to kill five people to fulfill our most cherished words I kill five people. If I have to kill five billion I kill five billion.

Unlike the mere reactionary writers and pseudo-apostates from Christianity in the movement I consider myself a genuine son of Zarathustra who finds himself sitting and waiting —old Mosaic, broken tablets around me and also new, half-written tablets—, wondering when cometh mine hour. On the other hand, Christians, secular liberals, reactionaries and even white nationalists have a sort of malware or computer bug within their skulls that compels them to place limits after the first few thousand killings. Johnson is only one example among many secular Neochristians in the white nationalist movement.

The current paradigm that enslaves almost all whites is like a Red Giant star that has already exhausted its hydrogen core (Christianity). After the French Revolution the enormous inertia of Christian ethics engendered a meta-ethical monster, now producing carbon from helium. This giant, secular, red shell of liberalism is but the sign of an approaching death of a star of that size. Though inflated and tenuous, the red shell is still very hot and makes the star’s radius immense. Presently liberalism is covering, and slowly engulfing and burning, the entire West and specifically targets the Aryan DNA for destruction. As explained in The Fair Race, the Red Giant is the present, secularized form of Christian ethics that has exhausted its creed. In this moribund stage, out-group (non-whites) altruism takes over liberal society. This happens, paradoxically, at the expense of traditional religious doctrine. On the other hand, after the genocide of Germans from 1944 to 1947, the Hellstorm Holocaust (again, cf. The Fair Race), genuine Aryan nationalism is not even one of our firmament’s stars. Like a tiny gaseous sphere already leaving the cradle of the nebulae, Aryan nationalism is accumulating more and more mass that is forming a center of higher density to form a protostar. When enough pressure in the interior rises—when a considerable mass of Nordish Aryans wake up again and fight in the real world as the Germans did—, it will increase the density and temperature until the gas turns into plasma. Only then a nuclear fusion will be ignited at the core and a new baby star will be visible again in the canopy of heaven.

What prevents nationalists from attracting, by the sheer force of their gravitas, increasingly more spiraling mass to make nuclear reaction possible, as happened in the Third Reich? Answer: Most whites, including white nationalists, still gravitate around the dying Red Giant that, by the next century, will become a white dwarf. They’re not really gravitating around the gaseous corpse of the National Socialist nebulae that is forming another new star even while Christianity is dying and will certainly be dead in the next century. The goal of my books is to point out at the firmament the new constellation of ethics that is being formed before any serious discussion can even take place on how to fulfill the fourteen words, our half-written Tablets.
 

The Star Child

One of the earliest reviewers of 2001: A Space Odyssey wrote in 1968 that it was the first Nietzschean movie in history, and it is too bad that Arthur C. Clarke’s literary agent, Scott Meredith, showed Clarke the green bill in the early 1980s to tempt the author into betraying his philosophy and original movie script by writing cretin sequels to his magnum opus. Anyway, before the sequel prostitution took place, in the epilogue to The Lost Worlds of 2001 Clarke wrote:

What lies beyond the end of 2001, when the Star Child waits, “marshaling his thoughts and brooding over his still untested powers,” I do not know. Many readers have interpreted the final paragraph to mean that he destroyed the Earth, perhaps in order to create a new Heaven. This idea never occurred to me; it seems clear that he triggered the orbiting nuclear bombs harmlessly

But now, I am not so sure. When Odysseus returned to Ithaca, and identified himself in the banquet hall by stringing the great arrow bow that he alone could wield, he slew the parasitical suitors who for years had been wasting his estate.

Why should we expect any mercy from a returning Star Child? Few indeed of us would have a better answer, if we had to face judgment from the stars. And such a Dies Irae may be closer than we dream…

In the culminating scenes of the film Kubrick’s use of Thus Spake Zarathustra, Richard Strauss’ tone-poem after Nietzsche includes the returning, placental child.

If something has any resemblance to science-fiction’s cathedral it is what in my soliloquies I call “Neanderthal extermination,” exemplified by Pierce in both The Turner Diaries and in all seriousness in a few passages of Who We Are. Der Juden saw it all right with their book of Joshua: only ethnic cleansing protects the race from the interbreeding that invariably occurs with time, and the moral I gather from Kevin MacDonald’s second book of his trilogy is that whites should imitate the tribe by adopting an endogamous form of collectivism diametrically opposed to our naïve, individualist societies. In a radio debate on exterminationist anti-Semitism Griffin told Linder that we must describe the Jewish problem like MacDonald does: never hinting to final solutions for fear of being called evil Nazis. But even MacDonald hints to a solution not only to the Jewish problem, but to the many other racial problems that are afflicting the race—though he will never formulate it openly for fear of losing his tenure: “The Greek and Roman pattern of conquest and empire-building, unlike that of the Israelites described in the Tanakh [Pentateuch], did not involve genocide followed by the creation of an ethnically exclusivist state…” (A People that Shall Dwell Alone, page 368). What MacDonald refrains from discussing, the ethical conundrum between extermination or expulsion, Pierce already discussed in the chapter of Who We Are about the last Nordic invasion of ancient Greece. But let’s elaborate my litmus test even further where I left it—“wondering when cometh mine hour…”
 

A thought experiment

While driving your car in the routine trip to your job imagine you are given a one week, Star Child powers over planet Earth like those described by Clarke and indulge yourself in a thought-experiment: that you are the metamorphosed astronaut Dave Bowman that returns to your home planet after a journey beyond the stars. What would you do?

Monday. After your second coming to Earth, this time above the clouds and with great power and glory, the first thing that comes to your mind are the traitors in charge of the white nations, so firmly decided to exterminate their own people through genocidal levels of immigration and mestization. You condemn to death the 5 heads of the most powerful Western states. At any event, there’s no human power that matches yours…

Tuesday. But is this enough to secure the existence of your people and the future of white children?, enough to be sure they will survive the West’s darkest hour after your week of Overlord power is over? What about terminating 50 of the most notorious, powerful enemies of whites, the Jewish moguls of the media that have been poisoning the well for so long?

Wednesday. “But that’s still too short” you wake up and say to yourself in anguish during these nights of virtual insomnia. After all, you want to be sure that the fourteen words are not threatened by ulterior human behavior in the centuries to come. What about eliminating 500—you say to yourself in the morning—or, still better, 5000 you conclude in the afternoon, of the most notorious leftist academics: those Jews and non-Jews who have been trying to deconstruct the West and have corrupted the minds of the young?

Thursday. Alas for the earthlings!: you’re still confronted by the voice of your consciousness! The academics and media moguls were not enough! The poisoning continues. This day you have to be bold enough and get rid of 50,000 of the media staff, mostly Jewish, that have been demonizing whites and your culture through the TV and Hollywood.

Friday. But aren’t you still too short on numbers? your inner daemon asks. What about those non-media guys who believe that the best of the goyim must be destroyed, i.e., the white Aryans? They’re still breathing and their hatred for your people has not diminished… What about calling home 500,000 non-gentiles, or even more conclusively 5,000,000; —oh no!—, better fifteen million for a final solution of the non-gentile problem, you conclude in the evening.

Saturday. Alas! You find out that you’re still too short to be a hundred percent sure that our most sacred words will be fulfilled after your power evaporates by tomorrow midnight. You just remembered that the Red Giant is still covering the whole West with the suicidal flames of Neochristianity. And you are not a monocausalist after all… Wiping out the subversive tribe was not enough, not barely enough, you are starting to realize, in a world where most whites have been turned into body-snatched pods. In this weekend that your powers will vanish you must confront the view that the zeitgeist that has been destroying your people since the Second World War is ultimately based on Christian ethics, and that this hypertrophy of the Aryan super-ego has virtually infected all whites. You don’t want to take any chances unless and until they have been cured of their suicidal, malignant lunacy—which won’t happen by itself within your weekend of Overlord power. Why not calling home once and for all 500 million of the infected whites, the deranged, out-group altruists?

Sunday, Day of the Lord. Not enough! (sob…). Your dwindling powers are not enough to see the future and be certain that the very traditional whites whose lives you just spared will have the nerve to deport those millions of non-whites who have been breeding like rats throughout your sacred lands. So you take a fateful, ultimate decision. You will make of this final day a scorched-Earth moment, a wrathful and vindictive day. (Only full revenge can heal the soul after all…) Only thus you will make it sure that the racial aliens won’t be invited again by the potential altruists who, unbeknownst to you, escaped justice yesterday and may fall into their old habits in the future. After all, doesn’t the mental disease of whites, universal moralism, predates Christianity (for example, in the Aryan Buddha)? And after Christianity started to expand a thousandfold into Neochristianity, didn’t your people’s sense of fairness and pity towards non-whites became infinitely more threatening for your goal than the depredations of the (now defunct) tribe?

Now you remember the last chapter of the Zarathustra, “The Sign,” when Zarathustra rises in the morning and finds a lion outside his cave, which he takes to be a sign that the Overman is finally coming. This new Zarathustra —you— rises triumphantly, realizing you have overcome your final sin: pity. And so you don’t want to take any chances with the surviving Neanderthals—not in this big day of yours! You go for the only figure that really solves the problem in a single stroke. You play God. You take the lives of 5 billion or even more of non-whites experiencing the same remorse that you experienced when you took the first 5 lives almost a week ago…

 
A favor

How far would you go chasing over Dave’s 14 words—white children for the endless ages to come before the Sun really turns into a Red Giant? I ask you this favor: Indulge yourself in the above thought-experiment when you go to work and suffer the sight of those non-white faces that the system socially-engineered to exterminate your kind through miscegenation. But please first watch 2001 in one of your days off so that you may grasp the film’s religious message unmolested by any external noise.

Don’t respond in the comments section of my blog which number of deaths, or until which day of the week, you imaginary chose to intervene in mankind’s destiny. My Gedankenexperiment only gauges your internal morals for you.

Beneath Ridley Scott’s planet

In my Hojas Susurrantes I recount how I liked Planet of the Apes (1968) the same year I watched Kubrick’s magnum opus on the big screen. When I learned as a child that they were filming the second part of the Planet, I loved the idea and thought it would be a fascinating film that would respect the original story. I remember that I found very long the months that, with great anxiety, I expected Beneath the Planet of the Apes (1970) to be released.

When it finally was released in Mexico City and went with my cousin Julio to the Cine de los Insurgentes I was shocked. The film was light-years apart from what I imagined it should be a legitimate sequel. As a child I didn’t have the faintest idea of what Hollywood really was, much less did I imagine that much of Hollywood’s interests had nothing to do with art or with an indictment of humankind—the main theme of the 1968 film. The sequel Beneath the Planet of the Apes, which was released in Mexico about three years after the masterpiece of Franklin Schaffner, proved to be an absolute crap and the worst was that it made the boy I was feel completely cheated.

As a personal vignette I would say that, after watching the movie with my cousin, in the confusion we passed directly to the large roundabout which is in front of the now defunct Cine de los Insurgentes instead of going around it. (Incidentally, twenty years later they would film scenes of the 1990 Total Recall with Arnold Shwarzenegger in the commercial part beneath the roundabout.) We got stuck on it and the speed of the cars would not let us escape the roundabout. It was not built for pedestrians and Julio and I, who were about ten and twelve years old respectively, had gone to the theater without our parents. I discovered the roundabout was not made for pedestrians when I realized that the “sidewalk” had no room for my feet. In a sense we had risked our lives by rushing directly into the upper side of the roundabout when we left the movie theater. The chaotic and noisy Avenida de los Insurgentes and the congestion of the two children alone in the large roundabout turned out to be a pertinent corollary to my great disappointment.

Decades, and a dozen more disappointments of traitorous prequels, sequels and remakes to great sci-fi movies, passed until I grasped the fact that a market-driven society does not always coincide with my artistic sensibilities. In “Ridley Scott’s Prometheus” Trevor Lynch (Greg Johnson) recently put it this way:

As the credits rolled, I took off my 3-D glasses and rubbed by eyes in disbelief, trying to fathom the vulgarity of spirit behind this godawful movie. It is the same vulgarity of spirit that took the mysteries of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) and gave us Peter Hyam’s sequel 2010 (1984), where the monoliths work to prevent nuclear war. It is the same vulgarity of spirit that took “the Force” of the original Star Wars trilogy and explained it in terms of little measurable material widgets called “midichlorians” in The Phantom Menace (1999). It is the same vulgarity of spirit that took the mysteries of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds (1963) and gave us Rick Rosenthal’s made-for-TV sequel The Birds II: Land’s End (1994), in which we are informed that the bird attacks are due to pollution.

Heidegger tells us that this vulgarization is the essence of modernity, which seeks to abolish all mystery and transcendence, replacing them with the transparent and available, which in cultural terms boils down to the vulgar and the trite.

But some of us are more modern than others, and it all fell into place when I spied the name of screenwriter Damon Lindelof, one of the principal culprits behind Lost […]. Prometheus is the same kind of portentous swindle: just Jews making millions peddling myths for morons. Don’t lose your money, or your lunch, at Prometheus.

I lost my money today watching this grotesque film and I agree. But about Star Wars Johnson failed to say that the real abomination started not with The Phantom Menace but with The Return of the Jedi: where an idiotic George Lucas completely betrayed the character of Darth Vader that had impressed many adolescents that had watched the splendid The Empire Strikes Back.

In the interview “Alien Special Features” of my DVD, Special Edition I heard a Ridley Scott saying that after Blade Runner he would never direct another sci-fi movie unless the story was really good, referring to the original script of the first Alien. With Prometheus Scott has just betrayed what he said.

Worst of all, of course, was 2010: Odyssey Two. Fuck you Arthur Clarke for having accepted the green bill, according to your own confession, to write a sequel you had promised never to write…

A manifestation of an inner degenerated state

“Tell me which music you like
and I’ll tell you who you are”


Yesterday at the comments section of Counter-Currents about music (here)—

Iranian for Aryans said referring to the CC article:

Allow me to dissent. Though the general tenor (ha ha!) of the piece (ha ha!) is salubrious, it shows a ignorance towards European music heritage. Allow me to explain.

Yes, there is a difference between “black singing” and “white singing”. Yes, the media promotes that which is bad, to put it weakly. However, the examples cited of what is good are lacking and wholly degenerated.

There is no mention of real singing as exemplified through classical music. Rather, examples are shared of Nat King Cole, Sinatra, and some other nugatory folksy personages. Personally, I think Sinatra and Cole were horrid. Real examples of singers would be Franco Corelli, Anna Moffo (mamma mia!), Renata Tebaldi, Caballe, del Monaco, di Stefano, Giacomini, Siepi, Schwartzkopf, Ludwig, Melchior, et al. These persons are our vocal stars. They might have been ugly and fat, but they were true singers, artists of the highest order. Roy Orbison? Good God…! As for the hackneyed reference to Beethoven, I’ll make a wager.

People, white people, WNs [white nationalists], can make references to classical music as much as they want, but the majority, overwhelmingly so, do not live classical music, their heritage. Do they turn on the classical radio station and listen to Haydn or Schumann? When speaking of the voice, do they go crazy over Schubert’s Die Schone Mullerin? Of course not. The espousal of amity towards classical music is disingenuous and a trite tip of the hat to “that which was”, and, as far as most are concerned, no longer is, thank God. Empty signs of respect are worthless: do you live the music? Who wants to listen to Ockeghem when there’s Prussian Blue?

Another example of ignorance of classical music is the citation of Warlock. Warlock, best known for his Capriol Suite, is a big nothing. The world expects novelty and uniqueness, even if framed in a conservative mould, from a composer. Given that Warlock’s magnum opus is a collection of Elizabethan tunes, I can’t place him as a luminary.

CC proclaims a “New Right”. Let’s proclaim it through music. Let’s open up readers to the Western musical heritage: Bruckner, Josquin, Schumann, Handel, Brahms, Vivaldi, et al.

I said:

Iranian: As much as I like WNists I feel an insurmountable abyss with them every time I learn in threads like this that they like rock, heavy metal or even old folkloric—as in Covington’s podcasts—music. This is because I learnt classical music before I was born—literally, since my mother used to be a piano concertista and throughout her pregnancy I sensed and listened the piano through my mother’s womb. And my father was a composer of classical music (when I was a small child some of my dad’s orchestral pieces were played in New York).

My first love, still as a small child of five, was Mussorgsky. Alas, musically and sexually, in today’s culture I feel like Lot in Gomorrah.

I hate monkey music as much as I hate degenerate sexual mores that are driving whites straight to the path of extinction. In fact, like Hegel I believe that if music represents the Geist then the degeneracy we see every day on the streets, TV and Hollywood is faithfully represented in the spirit of that music. For example, the Neanderthal spirit I see every day among the beaners is faithfully represented in their salsa antimusic.

I don’t know if “billions will die”, including the beaners, during the coming convergence of catastrophes (though like Lot I wish their cities burn under Heaven’s fire). But my educated guess is that, after the end of the world as we know it, there will be a resurgence of traditional sexual mores and, with it, repudiation of both violent and perverted Hollywood along with all pop music after the 1960s that “sound like demons trying to cough-up the world’s biggest hair ball”.

Iranian for Aryans said:

Chechar,

I sympathize with your feeling of alienation. I live with it and am reminded of it ubiquitously. I think your analogy of Lot in Gomorrah is good.

The monkey music (black and “white”, rap and rock, respectively) that we both loathe has become a manifestation of an inner degenerated state. But to see WNs, the so-called enlightened ones, purvey such excrescences is truly troubling and indicative of a much lowered state.

Pat Hannagan answered me:

Those “old” folkloric songs in Covington’s podcasts are the songs sung by a people who held their culture together, and successfully won their independence against an invading tyrant. My kids love them instinctively…

I replied (slightly edited):

Pat: I wholeheartedly agree with you. You know, I said that my father used to be a composer. But he abandoned composing classical music when he had to earn a buck. He taught music to children and his mantra is that folk songs are paramount for the spirit of a culture. Yes: there’s a gulf between legit folk music and what I call “Neanderthal music”: the music for whiggers, niggers, and beaners (the mexicans).

Nonetheless, when I wrote my above posts I was in soliloquy mood. To put it simply, I am stirred when I listen some music of Wagner (e.g., Parsifal), which means that musically I’m closer to the Third Reich than to the coming Northwest Republic. I simply cannot feel American folk music because Lot has no nation, and no folk music can stir the stateless individual.

In another CC thread I said that the music I most identify with is the atonal Lux Aeterna by Ligeti, especially the compasses that Kubrick chose for the scenes of desolate moon landscapes with a floating bus en-route from Clavius to Tycho. Why that cinematic vision expressing the most extreme form of solitude describes me? Because that’s the way Lot feels in Gomorrah: There’s, literally, nobody around: not even the blue sky visible in central Antarctica. (However desolate among the ice, the lone scientist in his post at least sees the blue color of the sky, meaning that there must be oxygen somewhere out there on the planet—plants, life.)

In contrast, in 2001’s moon landscapes there’s not even that: only a black sky and, without atmosphere, no shades: only black and white abyssal desolation among a world of elemental rock (link).

Update of November 23:

In the other recent CC thread about music, Iranian for Aryans said:

The espousal of amity towards classical music [in the CC article] is disingenuous and a trite tip of the hat to “that which was”, and, as far as most are concerned, no longer is, thank God.

This is exactly what Christopher Pankhurst has done in the above article (here). Pankhurst is confusing Christendom—which is dying and will finally die later in the century—with orchestral music. I would claim that, unlike Burzum, the Black Metal abomination featured in his article (what a blasphemy putting it together with Strauss’ Metamorphosen!), orchestral music has a bright future once the West awakens from its dormition.

The great musical tradition that reached a high watermark with Bach, and that subsequently sought expression through the individual genius of Beethoven and Schubert, had its funeral song in Strauss’ Metamorphosen.

False. Tragically false. Even Pankhurst concedes that after the World Wars Ligeti created numinous pieces of music.

My father also composed good pieces of music before he had to make a living through music education for children. In a more healthy culture he wouldn’t have faced economic need. Instead, he could’ve devoted all of his energies in continuing to compose (at the Utica Observer-Dispatch, in 1962 Chuck Booth wrote about my father’s symphonic piece Estirpes played in New York).

Since the whole West is in dormition, the only way that a composer of classical music can make a good living is thru soundtracks. But even in this lesser genre one can listen that orchestral music has not experienced the funeral claimed by Pankhurst.

Of the eight Harry Potter films only one, the third of the series, was superbly directed. John Williams’ music during Buckbeak’s flight and the werewolf transformation scene are examples of good orchestral music composed in the 21st century. One can imagine how far could the likes of Williams had gone if, in a non-dormition culture, they could devote all of their time composing pure music outside Hollywood. But even in Hollywood once in a while some soundtracks represent the most exquisite form of musical art. Don’t you remember how in 1968 Kubrick used Khachaturian’s most elegiac piece, Gayane Ballet Suite, when the spaceship Discovery One is bound for Jupiter?

Every time I hear stuff like paying lip service to Classical Music and at the same time promoting abominations like Heavy Metal, I cannot but compare the situation with a so-called white nationalist woman boasting a T-shirt telling us, “I had an abortion” without apparently noticing the contradiction in both statements. But again, only after the West collapses and awakens from its dormition—a cultural nightmare actually—will it be all too clear that most pop music during the interregnum was but a manifestation of an inner degenerated state, even among the white nationalists.