Violating the first guideline

‘If you are going to talk about serious matters (like killing someone or a coup) don’t ever let the women know about it’. —Jamie

In 2015 I published the first guideline I came up with for a ‘New Aryan code’, which can be summed up in these words ‘Thou shalt only speak to Aryan males’.

Even I, who coined the term fourteen-word priest, fail to comply with the first priesthood guideline.

Ever since my sister got very upset with me when I tried to defend Richard Wagner against the accusations she had been taught at school about Wagner’s attitude to Jews, an argument that ended when my sister not only walked out of the family room but told her teenage son to go with her so as not to listen to me, I had promised myself never to sit with them again.

And I kept it: not even at Christmas did I sit with my family.

But even the priest falters when he lives among little women. Not long ago, still keeping my promise that I wouldn’t sit with her, standing in the kitchen she advised me to go back to school. Since, trying to keep my promise, I didn’t sit at the table, I made the mistake of telling her why that didn’t make sense (can you imagine me in a woke university?).

My sister not only disregarded my arguments, me still standing and her sitting. She escalated her motherly advice to insulting levels. And because I didn’t give an inch to the grotesque advice to go back to college, she was so offended with me that she didn’t speak to me for the next few days!

But the fault was mine. I violated the priest’s first guideline: in profound matters, speak only to Aryan men.

It is easier for a hundred per cent Aryan male, at least genetically, to listen to a priest in private than if we try to do it with one of these little women.

In June this year I published ‘Best Russian film’ about Andrei Rublev. Although the whole film has now been removed from YouTube, it’s worth getting hold of a DVD and watching it at home: an art that is light years ahead of American cinema, and portrays with infinitely more verisimilitude the real world than that of the Hollywood Jews.

It really is worthwhile for the apprentice priest to pause in the torrent of information coming from a media monopolised by Jewry and look into the Russian Middle Ages. Tarkovsky’s film, I said in my June post, has a masterful scene that perfectly portrays the psychology of women. I mean when a Russian girl, after the Tartars destroyed her village and horribly tortured some male villagers (one had liquid metal poured into his mouth with a funnel), still willingly gave herself up to one of the polygamous Tartars!

Not that the Russian girl was a bad woman: her nature is simply to go with the strongest. (That’s why I criticised American Renaissance’s recent conference yesterday, insofar as it only shows that unlike the Nazis those speakers are exactly like Andrei Rublev.) But once one understands the nature of women it becomes obvious that one should never argue with them, although there are great exceptions, such as Savitri Devi.

I write all this because of the email I received today:

César,

Last week I got into a conflagration with my sister that you might have some expertise in:

My sister is a big BLM supporter, who had a BLM sign in her yard for quite some time in 2020. She is also the single mother of two green-eyed, blonde-headed little boys. The fact that the mother of my nephews stumps for a black-supremacist organization is truly galling.

In an angry letter to my cousin, I was ranting something along the lines of: ‘Where does it all lead to? What does she want? For her children to grow up to become the bottom bitches of Mexicans?’

My cousin did not understand my hypothetical, tongue-in-cheek tone, and sent photos of my letter to my sister, who took great offense and is no longer on speaking terms with me.

I sent the below email to her trying to explain the basis of my disdain, and my worry over the long-term prospects of my nephews, but I received no meaningful response in return.

What is occurring in the United States is the institutionalized soul-murder of our children, César! And their mothers are too programmed to stop it.

Regards,

-Ed

Among the racialists only Andrew Anglin and Roger Devlin (one of the speakers at the recent AmRen conference) know the nature of women. The problem with the conservative Devlin is that, as a typical American conservative, he is so feminised that he cannot see that only a revolution à la The Turner Diaries could save us. Nor does Anglin speak of revolutionary violence in the future, but at least his anti-feminist humour is so brutal that he comes a little closer to the priest’s guidelines.

New visitors who wish to educate themselves on the subject should read On Beth’s Cute Tits, linked in the sidebar.

Best Russian film

Those who have read Pierce and Kemp’s books will know of other very dark hours for the white race. But without images or a good novel, like Julian by Vidal, it’s almost impossible to convey what happened with the proper emotions. Since Hollywood is in enemy hands, what is filmed there about the past distorts historical reality to the point of axiological reversal. But the best movie ever made in Russia, Andrei Rublev, transports us to one of these terrible moments as if we were in the cave of the three-eyed raven retrocognitively seeing the historical past. Tarkovsky’s film is three hours long and was shot in black and white:

In the second part of the film, while the Russian Prince is away his younger brother, hungry for power, allies with a group of Tartars and attacks Vladimir. We see flashbacks of the Prince and his brother attending a church service. The non-white invasion of the combined armed forces on horseback and the resulting carnage is shown in great detail. The city is burned, the citizens are murdered and the women raped and murdered.

One scene shows a horse falling from a flight of stairs and being stabbed by a spear. Another shows that a cow is being set on fire. Fomá narrowly escapes being killed in the city and escapes to the nearby countryside, but when he crosses a river he is shot in the back with an arrow and killed.

The Tartars make their way to the barricaded church, now completely decorated with Andrei’s paintings, where most of the citizens have taken refuge. The Tartars show no mercy and slaughter the people inside and burn all the painted wooden altarpieces.

Andrei saves Dúrochka from being raped by killing a Tartar with an axe. The bishop’s messenger is cruelly tortured into revealing the location of the city’s gold. After being repeatedly burned, he has liquid metal from a melted crucifix poured into his mouth and is dragged away tied to a horse.

After that, only Andrei and Dúrochka are left alive in the church. A traumatised Andrei imagines a conversation with the late Theophanes the Greek, mourning the loss of his work and the evil of humanity, while Dúrochka absentmindedly braids the hair of a dead woman. Andréi decides to leave his profession of Orthodox Church painter and takes a vow of silence to atone for his sin due to the idiotic Christian commandment to never kill another man, even if he was a Tartar invader.

In the next film segment, Andrei is once again in the Andronikov monastery while famine and war dominate the country. He no longer paints or speaks but keeps the girl Dúrochka with him as a silent companion. After a few scenes, a group of Tartars stops at the monastery. The blonde Dúrochka is the perfect paradigm of Andrew Anglin’s words that I quoted in On Beth’s cute tits:

What I am ‘claiming’—which is in fact simply explaining an objective reality, based on accepted science—is that women have no concept of ‘race’, as it is too abstract for their simple brains. What they have a concept of is getting impregnated by the dominant male.

This girl, Dúrochka, ignores the atrocities that the Tartars had done in the Russian town and is fascinated by one of the soldier’s shiny breastplates. Still sitting on their horses, the Tartars tease her and play with her, but a soldier likes her, puts on her a horned helmet and dresses her as a bride, and finally decides to take her with him as his eighth wife, the only Russian wife of the non-white Tartar. Andrei tries to stop her from leaving him, but she spits in the face of the miserable Russian monk to let her go with the powerful Tartars. The scene perfectly portrays the mentality of white women but ultimately it is the fault of men like Andrei who, instead of fighting, obey the ‘love thine enemy’ gospel message.

Today in the morning when I went out for a walk to warm my feet on a cloudy day, a revelation came to me about all those scenes which can be seen in the video embedded above from 1:25 to 2:10. Yes: white women of our time are behaving like Dúrochka, jumping on the horse of the mighty: the Allies and Jews who wrote history books after WW2. Otherwise they would be on the side of their ethnic group, which would mean transvaluing all values concerning the Third Reich.

However, what Stalin’s hordes did in Germany is no different than what the Tartars did in the segment linked in the previous paragraph. And none of the main WN authors complains about this on their misleadingly called ‘white nationalist’ websites. That’s why I said yesterday that not even the commenters who visit this site are priests of the 14 words.

For any of them to become a priest, he wouldn’t only have to want to multiply with Aryan girls like the SS booklet I’ve been quoting. In practical terms this means hostilely taking over the State and destroying feminism in a single day through a massive rape of the Sabine women (insofar as today’s Western women are not as decent as the women whose pics appear in the SS booklet I’ve been quoting). See the section in On Beth’s cute tits, linked on the sidebar, where an MGTOWer says that in patriarchy men have the power of sexual reproduction, while in feminist society it’s women who have that power.

It also means founding, in the new extremely brutal ethnostate, a kind of reply to Hollywood’s brainwashing machine by filming the Allied atrocities in Germany and in the forced labour and extermination camps of the Soviet Union, where huge numbers of Germans were deported never to return. No one who doesn’t feel compassion for the slaughtered Germans has the right to comment here, since besides the 14 words I am also a priest of the 4 words.

Remember that.

The Dúrochka-like women in today’s West are simply jumping on the horses of the powerful. And the American and European males aren’t really men but a kind of neochristian monks (see for example what Mauricio recently said about Greg Johnson: a perfect paradigm of today’s ‘white nationalism’). Even their WN websites remind me of Andrei Rublev who, in those apocalyptic moments for Russia, instead of transvaluing Xtian values plunged himself into theological discussions and felt guilty for killing a single Tartar.

Only those who, unlike Rublev, have left Xtian ethics behind will be capable of saving their race.

Andrei Rublev

As in my central article this day I mention Andrei Rublev, as an introduction I would like to quote the words of a young YouTube film critic: ‘…Andrei’s personal struggle and what he eventually learns. Andrei loses his faith not in God, but in man, and in rejecting man, he is without an audience. He has no voice, no one to communicate to. His [vow of] silence is more than literal. Without empathy for those he minsters to, he cannot effectively minister’.
 

Saturday postscript:

Yesterday I saw, once again, the prologue of Andrei Rublev, the hot air balloon ride, and the first part that film, ‘The Jester’: scenes located in the year 1400 (tonight I’ll probably continue to watch other parts).

When I turned on the television, before, I got to see a few moments of Batman v Superman and a thought occurred to me that could perfectly cover a much longer article, but here I will try to summarise it.

When I was a child in the 1960s I saw TV series like Daniel Boone and Custer. Alas, Jerry Siegel, born in Ohio to a Jewish family, inaugurated a new genre by creating the fictional superhero Superman: a genre that seeped through the decades, including Adventures of Superman that I also used to watch as a child.

Historical figures Boone and Custer would be equivalent, on American soil, to the message of Rublev on Russian soil; with the difference that Russia, as a nation, is much older than the US and therefore has much deeper roots. Regardless of whether the US is a young nation, the Jew Siegel inaugurated a super-toxic genre that injured American consciousness about epics such as the conflict with the Indians in Boone and Custer: the realistic heroes before the ‘superheroes’ multiplied among fans. (Now you see that many YouTubers show hundreds of plastic miniatures of such ‘superheroes’ as the background of their shows!)

As I said, this could be the basis for writing a longer article. But the contrast between those minutes that I came to see of the toxic Batman v Superman and, immediately afterwards, the Russian film cannot better describe what I want to convey. I mean the corruption of the mentality of the American people from the Jewish quarter and, let’s face it, from the Americans themselves who swallowed the terrible poison that the ‘superheroes’ has represented to replace the heroes of their real history, such as Boone and Custer.

Using my words, and pace Trevor Lynch (Greg Johnson), the priest of the 14 words should never watch poisonous pop culture but movies depicting flesh and blood men, like Rublev.

Published in: on November 15, 2019 at 11:07 am  Comments (4)  

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)

Fuck Hollywood!

Now that we are talking about why overt, out-of-the-closet homos such as James O’Meara (who must not be confused with Michael O’Meara) and Jack Donovan should not be given platforms in white nationalist forums, a recent comment in a previous post moved me to collect the following comments in related threaded discussions.

I refer to Greg Johnson who, under the penname of Trevor Lynch, extraordinarily reviewed Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction (below I changed textual references to “Lynch” as “Johnson”). Johnson’s review was sectioned in two parts. Let’s start with the second.

For obvious reasons, the first commenters to jump on that thread were O’Meara and Donovan. I was the third one to comment, the dissident voice. Pay special attention to my words way below in this post in the context of what I recently said in Gitone’s magic (“Just compare this homosexual shit [two whites raping a Negro] with the Platonic love for Tadzio in Death in Venice: one inspires the sensitive soul and the other trashes the god Eros”).

After the cheers that Johnson got from O’Meara and Donovan for his favorable review of this filthy film, the most frank criticism I found about Johnson’s bizarre review came out from Howard.


John Norman Howard commenting on Johnson’s review…

 “Yes, Pulp Fiction contains interracial couples, villainous bumbling whites, and noble, eloquent blacks. One just has to look beyond the casting to the story itself.”
[in Johnson’s review]

The eyes are the window to the soul. The outward appearance of the characters is anything but superficial: one would have to look beyond the casting, the scenes, and the dialog as well. Sorry, but Fail one.

 “Pulp Fiction is only superficially anti-white. On a deeper level, it can aid us in rejecting modernity and recovering the spiritual foundations of something better.”
[in Johnson’s review]

Fail two. It’s overtly anti-White or at best, pro-diversity: which in the end analysis is White genocide. Big talk of “honor” yet admitting it was merely an opportunistic double-cross in the end? Can’t have it both ways, mate. And the whole “watch in the rectum” thing was just another of Tarantino’s gratuitous homosexual jokes. Just like the whole hillbilly pawnshop luridness. Whether you want to credit him for using Walken in the way Walken seems to work best, well. Funny in the usual South Park manner, but certainly not “genius”.

Greg Johnson said…

Your eyes might be the windows to your soul, which is what that saying means. But it certainly does not mean that your eyes are the windows to other people’s souls, or that they penetrate to the essence of whatever surface they light on.

John Norman Howard said…

I know what the saying means. My point is, the outward appearance of the characters in the movie are said movie’s “eyes”, as it were. Hence, one can readily see the indisputable “soul” of the movie. Leastwise, those of us with eyes to see, and without the scales of our pet theories, notions, and pseudo-intellectual baggage covering them.

I said…

I cannot conceive any good film featuring a black married to a white girl [as in Pulp Fiction] unless the film has an explicitly pro-white message, which obviously every film by this repulsive being [Tarantino] lacks.

The film starts with a white man with his white girlfriend assaulting a restaurant: the opposite of what usually happens in the real world, as revealed by color of crime stats. At the end of the film we see a flashback in that very restaurant with a spiritually powerful black man lecturing the weakling white robbers. Other instances of inverted travesties in Pulp Fiction could be cited, but it is unnecessary.

Art

True filmic art, like Death in Venice or Andrei Rublev inspires people. But in this decadent century only a handful of Hollywood films have inspired me. Ninety-nine per cent of them are so replete with anti-West, multicult messages that almost every time I visit the theaters I feel morally raped.

In the other thread I said that one of my sisters sings classical music hymns. When Pulp Fiction appeared instead of finding inspiration she felt visually raped. My sister is very sensitive, and the scene of the silent masked man referred to as “the gimp” (the one who was awakened up from a S&M dungeon to watch a tied-up Butch) shocked her deeply. Just compare this homosexual shit with the Platonic love for Tadzio in Death in Venice: one inspires the sensitive soul and the other trashes the god Eros. The same with Tarantino’s violence: unlike the gratuitous violence in Pulp Fiction a group of Tatars raid the city of Vladimir in Andrei Rublev: a historically accurate and shocking yet inspiring sequence for white viewers.

It could be argued that art depicting a decadent culture is still art, for instance Polanski’s Bitter Moon; the film by the Mexican director Alfonso Cuarón, Children of Men and, according to Johnson, Pulp Fiction.

My trouble with this approach is that all of these films have contributed to debilitate the spirit of the westerners. Like the character Vincent in Pulp Fiction, Bitter Moon reflects how the extremes of the hedonistic lifestyle in Paris are leading the French to ethnical suicide, literally. Like Pulp Fiction, in Children of Men the message is traitorously inverted: the white hero must save a black baby from extinction in a dying world that is no longer breeding any babies.

Yes: there is art in both Polanski and Cuarón’s films. But since their message hurts the Western soul Howard’s reply to me in the other thread is worth reciting: “Exactly… and kudos on mention The Brigade for its much-needed hammer on Hollywood and how to handle that sewer”.

Johnson deleted this comment by Howard.
In the other thread about the same film,
Part 1 of Johnson’s review:

Joe Owens said…

Whatever moral message Pulp Fiction is supposed to convey is well and truly lost in all the filth it’s wrapped up in. I’m sure we can find some moral reasoning in all this twisted rubbish. Yes, what about Inglourious Basterds or Hostel: Part II by Quentin Jerome Tarantino? Come on, time to leave this filth to the cranks and Jews who produce it!

Uncle Fritz said…

Good heavens: I thought it was just me!! I couldn’t even get through the damned film—after two attempts. Maybe too much philosophical immersion really is a dangerous thing…

John Norman Howard said…

Exactly. Pulp Fiction is the product of an unsound mind, and bestowing it with all this metaphysical mumbo-jumbo accolades is laughable.

It’s natural that a generation raised upon South Park would find it “deep” and “innovative”. But the bottom-line is this: The only thing remarkable about the film is that it marks a true line of demarcation in American culture (such as it is) whereby trash cinema passes as art, and an overt “up yours” to Whitey previously witnessed only in the most prurient blaxploitation junk of the seventies.
I’ve always found it serendipitous that this film’s release and subsequent lionization occurred at about the same time as the O.J. murders. Another stark line of demarcation in America’s racial demise.

Iranian for Aryans said…

Amen! The same can be said of everything popular, especially what passes for music.

Joe Owens said…

Why are you spoiling the pages of Counter Currents with this rubbish??? Shabbos Goy movies shouldn’t be praised by white nationalists. Come on, let’s get back to basics, Greg Johnson, I think you’re partying too much!

I said… (responding to Meh)

“Anyone expecting explicitly pro-white movies in this era might just as well stop watching movies.”

Ergo, I have stopped watching films—though as a big fan of the seventh art I still continue to watch the classics. Yesterday for example I saw the original, black-and-white version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

“Art, even decadent art, can be worth something…”

Rubbish. Please, see “The Philosophy of Beauty”, a six-video series in the playlist presently featured at The Occidental Observer.

I was born in a family of artists. Real artists I mean. So it’s easy for me to distinguish real art from “decadent art” (an oxymoron).

If I had children I would never allow any of them watching how two white males sodomize a Neanderthalesque nigger [see the Pulp Fiction photo above]. Never. How grotesque! (Not grotesque of the sublime kind, like the shots of Quasimodo at the upper balcony of the cathedral, saying to the gargoyles, “Why was I not made of stone, like thee?”) What a travesty of what is really happening in America (blacks raping whites)!

In The Brigade Covington makes a point: when secession war begins, the only thing that could defeat white revolutionaries is… Hollywood! Actually the climax of the novel is the way the revolutionaries finally hit Hollywood.

I would recommend all nationalists to stop watching modern films and use that time to read The Brigade.


Postscript note:

In Covington’s latest novel about how our new country will look like, all of this Hollywood rape scenes, which can only turn on our decadent nationalists, will be forbidden for our budding families (“The theaters were showing virtually nothing made after 1965 or so”). Instead, inspiring films, the polar opposite of the Tarantino degenerate scum, will be exhibited in the theaters such as Frank Capra’s It’s a Wonderful Life.

Let me finish this post with another comment that Johnson deleted when, last year at Counter Currents, I dared to criticize another silly review of another Hollywood movie.

When Johnson argued that his deep philosophical interpretations of the movies were pertinent, my response was: “I prefer Covington’s approach,” and quoted directly from his last novel:

“The once vibrant city of San Francisco, officially deeded by the Aztlan government to a huge ‘gay community,’ had lost two thirds of its population owing either to death from phosgene and sarin gas, or else through flight away from the V-3s. The section of the white and Jewish entertainment industry that had remained in Hollywood and their mansions in Beverly Hills, Santa Monica and Carmel being sacked and plundered by mobs of campesinos.”

That’s the spirit! That’s the way all true nationalists should handle the Hollywood foe once our nation is established…

Published in: on March 28, 2012 at 5:28 pm  Comments (9)