Inspiring statues

“We need a regime that (1) bans pornography and (2) erects statues of gorgeous naked nymphs and athletes in every public square and crossroads.”

 —Greg Johnson

Published in: on August 31, 2015 at 6:08 pm  Comments (1)  
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Solitude

Sticky post

Below, my comments of the ten threads about Nietzsche’s
prologue to Thus Spoke Zarathustra in a single entry:


1

Visitors will be surprised to learn that a Spanish edition has more detailed endnotes than the academic English translation of Nietzsche’s magnum opus.

This is because Spaniards are fed up of Catholicism. North Americans have a few centuries experimenting with Christianity. Spain has more than a millennium and a half, and our parents’ religion is on its last dying breaths there.

Andrés Sánchez-Pascual’s scholarly translation of Nietzsche’s books since the early 1970s became so popular that over the decades he has received hundreds of letters from his Spanish-speaking readers. The book’s edition of Así Habló Zaratustra that I purchased this month for example (I lost the old copies that I used to read sporadically in the 1970s and 80s) is its twentieth edition.

So fed up of Catholicism are Spain’s thinking classes that, again, the copies I bought of Karlheinz Deschner’s Kriminalgeschichte des Christentums which introduction appears in my compilation The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour, were translated to Spanish for an audience unexpectedly avid of this sort of extraordinarily scholarly material (Deschner’s maximum opus has yet to be translated to English).

Another example. Manu Rodríguez, who has had a place of high honor in this site and in The Fair Race, is also an avid reader of Sánchez-Pascual’s translations of Nietzsche. Thanks to his revaluation of Christian values, Rodríguez overcame his original prejudice against National Socialism in his later posts of La Respuesta de Europa. With the exception of non-Christian geniuses like Revilo Oliver and William Pierce, I have not seen such a metamorphosis of the mind in most of the English-speaking racialists.
 

2

“Could it be possible! This old saint in his woods has not yet heard the news that God is dead!

This is one of the most quoted passages of Nietzsche’s literature. I abandoned theism long ago. Presently I don’t believe in the existence of a personal god, let alone in the existence of the Jewish god (which would be absolutely dead in the heart of any fanatic of the 14 words if the white nationalist “movement” was not all bluff). That doesn’t mean that I’m an atheist, as Hegel and other philosophers of Classic German Idealism developed a new understanding of God: panentheistic views that I am not prepared to dismiss.

The theological issues of Zarathustra’s encounter with the old hermit aside, I’d rather say something about the soliloquy in the previous post of this fictional character, something related to the very meaning of this blogsite.

The darkest hour is just before the dawn. In the endnotes about the opening soliloquy in Nietzsche’s book, Andrés Sánchez-Pascual interpreted the term Untergehen as follows: “By sinking into his decline, like the sun, Zarathustra moves to the other side. ‘Passing to the other side’ means surpassing oneself and becoming the Overman.”

This is what nationalists have failed to do, and was the message of the last pages of my compilation The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour: white nationalism as a handy rock at the middle of a river, not as the promised land itself which is beyond the rapid waters.

That was my metaphor.

As to Nietzsche’s metaphor, we could say that today’s whites, including Christian and libertarian white nationalists, have yet to “sink themselves into their sunsets.” Some force may be with them but they’re not overmen yet; they have not surpassed themselves as Hitler’s SS men did (always keep in mind my “Where are the Syssitias?”).

The purpose of this blogsite is to prepare a few metamorphosing men, those in the process of “passing to the other side” (Übergang) from the soul’s darkest night into the coming dawn of the fair race.
 

3

I don’t claim to have reread the Zarathustra since my adolescent infatuation with Nietzsche. But these are surely the words that made a very powerful impression in my mind since my first reading:

“I teach you the Overman. Human being is something that must be overcome. What have you done to overcome him?

What is the ape to a human? A laughing stock or a painful embarrassment. And that is precisely what the human shall be to the Overman: a laughing stock or a painful embarrassment.

You have made your way from worm to human, and much in you is still worm. Once you were apes, and even now a human is still more ape than any ape.

Behold, I teach you the Overman!

The Overman is the meaning of the earth. Let your will say: the Overman shall be the meaning of the earth!”

The passage “…and you want to be the ebb of this great flood and would even rather go back to animals than overcome humans?” nails perfectly contemporary whites.

This is exactly what they are doing to themselves—white nationalists included, so reluctant to fight (or preparing to fight by saving precious metals before the dollar crashes). As Jack Frost has asked the clueless, feminized males of The Occidental Observer more than once, “Where’s the resistance?” to the anti-white, exterminationist System. Where are the cells for would-be soldiers that treasure William Pierce’s three books as their New Tablets?

I see none of it. And many Jew-wise nationalists are themselves etnosuicidal because they simply ignore that Christianity inverted healthy values—negative values that they themselves subscribe! Cowardice similar to this in the 19th century explains why Nietzsche’s Zarathustra gives the biblical verse an antithetical sense from the original.
 

4

Now Zarathustra looked at the people and he was amazed. Then he spoke thus: “Mankind is a rope fastened between animal and Overman – a rope over an abyss. What is great about human beings is that they are a bridge and not a purpose: what is lovable about human beings is that they are a crossing over and a going under.”

Again, this brings in mind my metaphor of the bridge. This is what I wrote in the final essay of The Fair Race: “White nationalism is only a stone at the middle of the rapid-flowing waters of a dangerous river; an over-the-water large stone that can help us in our endeavor to jump to the other side. I myself used that stone during my crossing from Christianity and Liberalism to National Socialism. In fact, I could even write such a spiritual odyssey in a text that might be titled ‘From St Francis to Himmler’.” But no American white nationalist today is prepared to wear a T-shirt of Herr Himmler, not even in the privacy of their homes.

“I love the great despisers, because they are the great venerators and arrows of longing for the other shore. I love those who do not first seek behind the stars for a reason to go under and be a sacrifice, who instead sacrifice themselves for the earth, so that the earth may one day become the Overman’s. I love the one who lives in order to know, and who wants to know so that one day the Overman may live. And so he wants his going under.” [sinking in his sunset according to Sánchez-Pascual]

This cannot contrast more with today’s white nationalists, so reluctant to sacrifice themselves as Rockwell did. They want it both ways: enjoy their homely comfort zones and try to “save” the race from the ongoing extermination.
 

5

In Ecce Homo Nietzsche wrote:

In this sense Zarathustra first calls the good “the last men”… He finds them the most harmful kind of man, because they secure their existence at the expense of truth just as they do at the expense of the future.

Do “the last men” sound like contemporary whites overwhelmed with guilt? But white nationalists are the Overman’s “last men” too. Think for example of the voices from those self-righteous, Christian and atheist nationalists who recently called a lone wolf “an evil sociopath” in Dixie, basically subscribing the meme “black lives matter.”

White- or Southern nationalism is phony, was phony and will be phony until societal collapse forces the survivors to grow a hairy pair. This is Pierce’s Diaries: “His forehead was then marked with an indelible dye, and he was turned out and could be readmitted permanently only by bringing back the head of a freshly killed Black or other non-White.”
 

6

Just for the record, about 150,000 copies of a specially durable wartime Zarathustra were distributed to the German troops during the First World War.
 

7

“A nice catch of fish Zarathustra has today! No human being did he catch, but a corpse instead!” looks like me trying to convey Nietzsche’s message to a dead race!
 

8

“I want to teach humans the meaning of their being, which is the Overman, the lightning from the dark cloud ‘human being’.”

For some unfathomable causes, this sentence from the previous section, Prologue §7, reminded me my identification with the art of the pre-Raphaelites and Maxfield Parrish (cf. my Facebook page). One of the inner realities that distances me from white nationalists is that they don’t seem to love this 14-words art (“That the beauty of…”) as much as I do.
 

9

“It dawned on me: I need companions, and living ones – not dead companions and corpses that I carry with me wherever I want.”

Just what happened to me during my experience in counter-jihad: after these guys didn’t want to hear about the Jewish problem it was like I had to get rid of their corpses—dead companions. But it also happened to me in white nationalism! After these guys didn’t want to hear about the Christian problem it was like I had to get rid of their corpses.

“It dawned on me: let Zarathustra speak not to the people, but instead to companions!”

Pierce did something similar after the catastrophe of Rockwell’s murder: instead of speaking to the masses he predicated to a smaller group of companions.

“Look at the good and the just! Whom do they hate most? The one who breaks their tablets of values, the breaker, the lawbreaker – but he is the creative one.”

Hitler was the creative one. Read his table talks.

“Companions the creative one seeks and not corpses, nor herds and believers. Fellow creators the creative one seeks, who will write new values on new tablets.”

Less than a handful visitors of this blog share the moral grammar on my New Tablets…

“Fellow creators seeks Zarathustra, fellow harvesters and fellow celebrators Zarathustra seeks: what need does he have of herds and shepherds and corpses!”

…but still no one wants to become a priest of the 14 words in a latter-day “Syssitia” (like the one Rockwell had).

“I do not want to even speak again with the people – for the last time have I spoken to a dead person.”

Occasionally I still comment at The Occidental Observer but even that has to end—with the exception of Jack Frost, the commentariat and even the authors are clueless that Christian axiology enabled the Jewish problem and the Negro problem and the Mestizo problem and even the more recent empowerment of Asia.

“I shall join the creators, the harvesters, the celebrators: I shall show them the rainbow and all the steps to the Overman.”

Hitler and Pierce showed this rainbow but who among us really follows their revaluated axiology? Most white nationalists follow the Old Tablets; atheist nationalists share also the Christian moral grammar and even the neonazis have not really broken the Tablets.

“I want to go to my goal, and I go my own way; over the hesitating and dawdling I shall leap. Thus let my going be their going under!”

This describes me…
 

10

And so Nietzsche’s literary prologue ends. Below, some snippets from the Cambridge introduction by Robert B. Pippin:

Zarathustra leaves his cave to revisit the human world because he wants both to prophesy and help hasten the advent of something like a new “attempt” on the part of mankind, a post “beyond” or “over the human” (Übermensch) aspiration. Such a goal would be free of the psychological dimensions that have led the human type into a state of some crisis (made worse by the fact that most do not think a crisis has occurred or that any new attempt is necessary).

The problem, then, that Zarathustra must address, the problem of “nihilism,” is a kind of collective failure of desire…

Nietzsche clearly thinks we cannot understand such a possibility, much less be both shamed and inspired by it, except by a literary and so “living” treatment of such an existential possibility. And Nietzsche clearly thinks he has such a chance, in the current historical context of crisis, collapse, boredom, and confusion, a chance of shaming and cajoling us away from commitments that will condemn us to a “last man” or “pale atheist” sort of existence, and of inspiring a new desire, a new “tension” of the spirit…

As noted, the problem Zarathustra confronts seems to be a failure of desire; nobody wants what he is offering, and they seem to want very little other than a rather bovine version of happiness. It is that sort of failure that proves particularly difficult to address, and that cannot be corrected by thinking up a “better argument” against such a failure.

The events that are narrated are also clearly tied to the question of what it means for Zarathustra to have a teaching, to try to impart it to an audience suffering in this unusual way, suffering from complacency or dead desire. Only at the very beginning, in the Prologue, does he try to “lecture publicly,” one might say, and this is a pretty unambiguous failure.

The reminder here of the Prologue appears to indicate that Zarathustra himself had portrayed his own teaching in a comically inadequate way, preaching to the multitudes as if people could simply begin to overcome themselves by some revolutionary act of will…

He had shifted from market place preaching to conversations with disciples in Part I, and at the end of that Part I he decides to forgo even that and to go back to his cave alone.

rosa_s_pak

Botched episode

The finale of the 5th season of Game of Thrones

stannis

by César Tort

Had it not been for an accident in my teens, now I would be a consummate film director. My forte has always been the visual arts. Precisely because they are my forte I noticed, since childhood, the beauty of the Aryan race, especially girls. In a sea of mud in Mexico the very few blondes with delicate features seemed to me like lotus flowers floating on the sea.

As message, Game of Thrones (GoT) is quite bad. Like everything we see on television in our times, it makes equal man and woman by showing female warriors or female heads of state. To boot, GoT depicts promiscuity as normal, sometimes with scenes that are disgusting and I mean not only the homosexual, but heterosexual light porn alike. If I were the author of the books or the director I’d put the High Sparrow as the hero of the saga. After a couple of centuries of disbanding the Faith Militant, the military arm of the Faith of the Seven is restored, this time led by the sparrows thus ending the degeneration of royalty in the city King’s Landing.

The screenwriters of GoT will never do something similar in this darkest time of the West. (On the contrary, perhaps in the following season the Frankenstein that created Cersei’s doctor will terminate the sparrows.) But the writers of the ethnostate could do it in tales that retain the enormous beauty of some scenarios we’ve seen in GoT, with the difference that our values would be transvalued (goodbye Jesus—and forever).


Anesthetized spectator

From a strictly cinematic, not axiologic, viewpoint the first forty-nine episodes of GoT were well directed. In the last one, “Mother’s Mercy” released yesterday, the screenwriters blundered badly. Those who really understand film know that a masterpiece never exceeds in raucous scenes. Exceeding and overreaching was exactly what the screenwriters did in the final episode of the GoT season.

In real artistic film there cannot be a scene with very profound implications for the overall plot after another similar scene after another… A well-made film, such as the first Alien—incidentally, the only film by Ridley Scott that I like—maintains the suspense through slow scenes and only by the end it bursts with extreme violence. Instead, in “Mother’s Mercy” the screenwriters committed the fashionable sin in Hollywood and television programs today: they conflated several tremendous events in a single hour:

  • The defeat on the battlefield and apparent death of Stannis (pic above);
  • the Arya girl turned into a sadist of the kind of Tarantino films (Arya stabbed in both eyes a despicable subject);
  • the prolonged degradation of Queen Cersei along the streets of King’s Landing.

In the internet, the feminists today are angrily commenting on yesterday’s episode. Although Cersei is one of the oldest villains of all seasons in GoT, she is a woman, and they are horrified to see her degraded by orders of the High Sparrow in the walk of shame. The truth is that we urgently need this type of action in disciplining all sorts of degenerates in the ethnostate, including white nationalists. The laws of morality should grab them all, including the heads of state. That’s why I so admire the High Sparrow as depicted in the fifth season. “The sign of the times is degeneracy,” said a regular visitor of this blog. “This term—degeneracy—sums up all that is happening to the West.”

The scene of the appropriate punishment of Cersei—adulterous, incestuous, involved in the death of her husband, the king, and countless other misdeeds that ruined the lives of others—is well-achieved if we see that scene strictly in isolation.

But in this final episode, after the military defeat of Stannis and the sadistic transformation of Arya (something one does not expect from a child even if her list of villains to kill is well intentioned), the viewer is completely confused and numbed when this later scene arrives. After such extremely disturbing scenes (we had hoped that Stannis defeated Ramsey, who skins men and women alive), when finally arriving at the walk of shame this late scene has completely lost its momentum. The previous scenes had left us confused and anesthetized before a new brutality. In none of the previous nearly fifty episodes the screenwriters indulged themselves in such excess, and the same could be said of

  • the apparent murder (some fans think that the Red Witch will rise him from the dead in the next season) of Jon Snow in the final minutes of the episode.

A good screenwriter would have spent four episodes for each of these four gruesome themes marked with bullets. But they put them all together, one after another, to the degree of bungling the episode.

Terrible! The adroitness of the creators of GoT completely failed. However, as was clear from my first entry about the series, GoT subscribes a suicidal ideology (see yesterday’s post on egalitarianism). In the real world we are not “equal” on race, gender or sexual orientation; nor should prevail the principle of “non-discrimination” for the inferior races, women or the inverts. Unlike GoT, women should not be warriors (as red-haired Ygritte and some non-white, masculinized female warriors at Dorne) or female knights! (Brienne of Tarth); nor try to make a career of professional assassins (Arya), nor the fans should hope that a blonde bimbo (Daenerys) conquers the Iron Throne…

A frustrated filmmaker as I am I will continue to see the next season but only as visual inspiration of Aryan scenery that could be used if the race is saved from an almost certain fate.

________________

Update of June 24

Now that I watched again episode 48 I realised that it was botched as well. You simply cannot show the most disturbing scene ever seen on TV (burning your child alive) and right after that showing another scene of great action (riding the dragon for the first time in the series): a subject unrelated to the most heinous crime in GoT: offering your child as a sacrifice to the God.

Radio Renaissance

RadRen1

You can listen yesterday’s broadcast of Radio Renaissance by downloading it: here.

Sebastian Ronin’s group is absolutely right that white nationalists don’t want to abandon their comfort zone in the internet. They are right that a financial accident is coming and, later, an apocalyptic energy devolution that will open a window of opportunity for whites to shift paradigms. They are is also right that, as Ronin put it, “if a movement does not go political nothing happens.” His words sharply contrast with small groups at both sides of the Atlantic (for example Counter Currents and the London Forum) that limit themselves to so-called metapolitics—mere essayism and intellectual meetings. Ronin’s group is right that—unlike, say, Golden Dawn—white nationalist groups are composed by cowards who cannot understand the maxim, “No risk no return.”

However, we disagree with Ronin regarding Pierce: the best mind that this continent has ever produced. Also, Ronin doesn’t seem to know that the Christian problem is larger than the Jewish problem, and that in modern times it even encompasses it (see the recent entries quoting Jack Frost). In Ronin’s group the subject of the Hellstorm Holocaust goes unmentioned. Exposing it is the only way that the sins of the descendants of those who destroyed Germany’s spirit may be atoned.

I am afraid to say that Ronin’s group isn’t spiritual enough. Although Pat Buchanan is not one of us, in the Buchanan interview I recently linked in a couple of posts (e.g., here) Pat hit the nail: the West needs a St Paul for a great awakening. But I am not a Christian and agree with Michael O’Meara that one could see the next awakening in purely ontological terms. However, unlike the masters of the spoken word the colder intellectuals cannot fully understand Being. As my good friend Manu Rodríguez told me, we need a New Temple to reconnect with our Indo-European heritage. To me, a priest of the 14 words, Aryan female beauty is the first pillar of the New Temple, and I wish more people would “take the black” as I did.

For Ronin’s group the US and Canada will break down into several nation-states. While in the short run that would be advisable, in the long run a white Reich would conquer a fragmented new nation if it is not wholly militarized. A new, non-fascist ethnostate reminds me Hitler’s annexation of Austria. Furthermore, only a united Reich could face the challenges presented to the whole West by the awakened dragon, China. Hitler’s view of conquering a continent for his Reich is the right one. His is the only way forward. White nationalists’ and Ronin’s non-Imperium goals won’t face the huge challenges presented to us later in this century when slaying the awakened dragon. The big question is if the Aryan Reich will originate in Europe or in the continent where I am presently living (a subject to be discusses elsewhere).

Finally, Ronin’s “Renaissance” group supports the creation of Aztlán, a Negro ethnostate, and an Indian state in North Dakota. That cannot contrast more dramatically with Pierce’s dream of cleansing the whole area. Is the Renaissance group still trapped in Christian axiology or is that only PR tactics so that they don’t get demonized by the Jew-controlled media?

Whatever the answer, unlike them and white nationalists those who have taken the black know that only hatred big time will save the race.

Surreal Mexico

Race-wise Americans should consider the sociology down the south of Río Grande. Half a millennium of miscegenation ought to be enough not to repeat the Iberian history of the Americas.

Mexico in particular is fascinating. On February 17, 1992 a Newsweek article asked humorously, “Is Mexico blond?” because sometimes the Mexican TV commercials show blond Mexicans even though they are a tiny minority here. What Newsweek failed to report is that it is not uncommon that some Mexicans with overwhelming Indian blood celebrate when, due to Mendel laws, one of their newborns surprisingly looks much whiter than most members of their family.

The most surreal case I’ve witnessed happened in the 1990s during a show of an extreme leftist in Chapultepec’s Casa del Lago, in the open forum for stand-up comedians. I was fascinated to see books on sell authored by Stalin, Trotsky, Lenin and other commie luminaries very close a place with very poor, slightly mesticized Indians listening the comedian. Naturally, he was excoriating the Mexican bourgeois culture. But he said there was an exception: their women! The comedian said humorously that he much preferred the white Mexican woman to the common female of the proles.

mex bitchI was amazed since the brown audience never stopped to laugh at the comedian’s joke. They didn’t take any offence for what he said about the absolute superiority of the white female even though there were many brown women present; actually, virtually all of them were dark browns with their families. And this was a public show coming from an extremely radical leftist in a place that still sold books by Stalin!

We can imagine what would the reaction be if today a stand-up American Negro said the same about the appearance of the First Lady compared to, say, Nicole Kidman…

The anecdote makes my point beautifully. With five hundred years of miscegenation many “Latin” Americans, even the darkest proles, still can tell the abyssal difference between the superiority of the Aryan female before the Neanderthalesque native.

Published in: on May 15, 2015 at 9:59 am  Comments (3)  

Uncle Adolf’s table talk, 184

the-real-hitler

 

6th September 1942, midday

Racial mixtures—Sailors on leave.
 
 

What a fine race the Dutch are! The girls are splendid and very much to my taste. The blemishes in the Dutch are due to interbreeding with the Malays, and that, in its turn, is the result of sexual urge and the lack of a sufficiency of white women in their colonies. We had much the same thing in our own colonies; a German had the right to marry a negress, provided she was a Catholic, but not a German girl, if she happened to be a Protestant.

Even today, the Catholic priest chatters for months if one of his flock wishes to marry a Protestant. It is not very long ago that, in the country, a marriage between Catholic and Protestant was stigmatised as an insult to the Holy Altar; but no body bothered their heads about the colour of bastards! In the British Empire, things are very different; but the Church of England is a political, rather than an ecclesiastical, organisation.

Again and again I am asked to sanction marriage between one of our soldiers and a foreign girl; and as often as not the soldier is a splendid young lad and the girl a little trollop.

Nothing but catastrophe could come of such unions. The branches of the services most exposed to this danger are the Navy and the antiaircraft units, because they stay in one place longer than anyone else. It was the same in the first war. The Flemish girls were most attractive, and, had the war had a normal ending, many of them would undoubtedly have married German soldiers.

The Fuehrer turns jestingly to Admiral Krancke: Your sailors have only three hours’ liberty ashore each day; can’t you give them a bit more? If they must hang about in port, they will be best employed chasing the girls!

_____________________________

Consider obtaining a copy of the complete notes
published by Ostara Publications.

The face of Classical Europe (I)

Were the Greeks blond and blue-eyed?

 

In 2013 I translated this article from the Spanish blogsite Evropa Soberana in fragmented form. Now that I am reviewing The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour for the 2015 edition, I would like to see it reproduced here in a single entry:

 

I remember a movie that came out in 2004. Troy was called. Naturally, many fans of Greece went to see it quite interested; some of them because they sincerely admired Hellas and its legacy. But some uncultivated specimens attended the theaters too. Everyone knows that, in our day, Greece is regarded as a mark of snobbery and sophistication even though you do not know who Orion was, or what was the color of Achilles’ hair according to mythology. The movie’s Helen (one with a look of a neighborhood slut) and Achilles (Brad Pitt) were rather cute. Adding the special effects, advertising and usual movie attendance there was no reason not to see this movie that, incidentally, is crap except for a few redeemable moments.

Upon first glance at the big screen, one of the many reactions that could be heard from the mouth of alleged scholarly individuals, was something like the following:

Outrageous: Achilles and Helen, blond and blue-eyed! Oh tragedy! Oh tantrum! Such a huge stupidity! Irreparable affront! It is obvious that Nazism, fascism, Nordicism, Francoism, anti-Semitism, homophobia and sexism are booming in Hollywood, because who would have the crazy notion to represent the Greeks as blond, when their phenotype was Mediterranean? Only the Americans could be so uneducated and egocentric and ethnocentric and Eurocentric and fascists and Nazis and blah blah…

These good people were not outraged by the desecration of The Iliad; for the absurd and fallacious script, for representing Achilles like an Australian surfer, or Helen as a cunt or the great kings as truckers of a brothel. No. They didn’t give a hoot about that. What mattered was leaving very clearly that they were sophisticated people, conscious of what was happening and that, besides being progressive democrats and international multi-culturalists without blemish, and able to pronounce “phenotype” without binding the tongue, they were also sufficiently “sincere admirers of Greece” to be indignant and losing their monocles before a blond Achilles.

The same could be said about the ultra-educated reaction to the movie 300. When it was released, we could see an outraged mass (and when we say “outraged” we are saying really outraged) complaining in the most grotesque way, by the presence here and there, of blond Spartans throughout the movie—fascist xenophobia by Hollywood and the like. How easy it is for the big mouths when there are large doses of daring ignorance involved, and when they have no idea what it stands to reason.

What I did not expect was to hear similar statements from the admirers of classical culture: people that one generously assumes they have read the Greco-Roman works or that are minimally informed—at least enough to not put one’s foot in it in a such a loudly manner. For Achilles, considered the greatest warrior of all time, and sole and exclusive holder of the holy anger, is described in The Iliad as blond, along with an overwhelming proportion of heroes, heroines, gods, goddesses—and even slaves considered desirable and worthy for the harem of the Greek warriors to seed the world with good genes.

The same could be said of the Spartans if we consider the physical appearance of their northern Dorian ancestors, who had come “among the snows” according to Herodotus. In fact, the movie 300 was too generous with the number of Spartans of dark hair, and too stingy with the number of blonds.

Whoever declares himself an admirer of classical European culture (Greece and Rome) and, at the same time, asserts that it was founded by swarthy, Mediterraneans-like-me folks is placing himself in the most uncomfortable form of self-consciousness. As I have said, if such individual really admired the classical world and bothered to read the classical works, he would have ascertained to what extent Nordic blood prevailed in the leaders of both Greece and Rome—especially in Greece. In short, those who claim being ultra-fans of Greece, Rome or both only throw garbage on themselves by demonstrating that they had not even read the original writings.

There are many truths about Nordic blood and Hellas but perhaps the most eloquent and overwhelming truth is that Greek literature is full of references to the appearance of the heroes and gods because the Greeks liked to place adjectives on all the characters, and nicknames and epithets representing their presence. So much so that it is really hard to find a swarthy character. In the case, for example, of Pindar, it is a real scandal: there is not a single character that is not “blonde,” “golden,” “white,” “of snowy arms,” and therefore “godlike.”

The blue eyes were described as γλαυκώπισ (glaukopis), which derives from γλαῦκος (glaukos), “brilliant,” “shiny.” The Roman writer Aulus Gellius, in his Attic Nights describes the concept of colors in a conversation between a Greek and a Roman. The Roman tells the Greek that glaucum (from which derives the Castilian glaucous) means gray-blue, and the Greek translates glaukopis into Latin as caesia, “sky,” i.e., sky blue. As Günther observes, the very word “iris,” of Greek origin, that describes the color of the eye, could only have been chosen by a people whom clear and bright eye colors dominated (blue, green or gray), and that a predominately swarthy people would have never compared the eye color with the image of the rainbow.

The Greek word for blond was ξανθός (xanthus), “yellow,” “gold,” “blond.” The xanthus color in the hair, as well as extreme beauty, light skin, high height, athletic build and luminous eyes were considered by the Greeks as proof of divine descent.


The physical appearance of Greek gods and heroes

DemeterDemeter as it was conceived by the Greeks. We must remember that the statues had a deeply sacred and religious character for the Hellenes and that, in addition of being works of art, they were also the height of geometric feeling and engineering, since the balance had to be perfect. The Greeks, who had a great knowledge of the analyses of features, represented in their statues not only beautiful people, but beautiful people with a necessarily beautiful soul.

There is a persistent tendency among the Hellenes to describe their idols as “dazzling,” “radiant,” “shiny,” “bright,” “full of light,” etc., something that very obviously correspond to a barely pigmented, “Nordic” appearance. To be more direct, I’ll omit these ambiguous quotes and focus on the concrete: the specific references to the color of skin, eyes, hair, and more. Where possible I’ve inserted the works, specific chapters and verses so that anyone can refer to the original passage.

• Demeter is described as “the blonde Demeter” in The Iliad (Song V: 500) and in Hymn to Demeter (I: 302), based on the mysteries of Eleusis. It is generally considered a matriarchal and telluric goddess from the East and of the pre-Indo-European peoples of Greece. However, here we should be inclined to think that, at best, she was a Europeanized goddess by the Greeks, integrated into their pantheon. The very name of Demeter comes from Dea Mater (Mother Goddess) and therefore would, in a sense, be the counterpart of Deus Pater—Zeus Pater or Jupiter, Dyaus Piter.

• Persephone, daughter of Demeter, is described as “white-armed” by Hesiod (Theogony: 913). At least it is clear here that Persephone was not a brown skinned goddess, nor that her physique coincided with the “Mediterranean” type. It is more reasonable to assume that her appearance was, at best, predominantly Nordic.

• Athena, the daughter of Zeus, goddess of wisdom, insight, cunning and strategic warfare in The Iliad, is described no more no less than a total of 57 times as “blue eyed” (in some variations, “green eyed”), and in The Odyssey a comparable number of times. Pindar referred to her as xanthus and glaukopis, meaning “blonde, blue-eyed.” Hesiod is content to call her “of green eyes” in his Theogony (15, 573, 587, 890 and 924), as well as Alcaeus and Simonides; while the Roman Ovid, in his Metamorphoses, which tells the perdition of Arachne, calls the goddess “manly and blond maiden.”

• Hera, the heavenly wife of Zeus, is called “white-armed” by Hesiod (Theogony, 315), while Homer called her “of snowy arms” and “white-armed goddess” at least thirteen times in The Iliad (I: 55, 195, 208, 572. 595, III 121, V: 775, 784; VIII: 350, 381, 484; XV: 78, 130).

• Zephyrus, the progenitor of Eros along with Iris, is described by Alcaeus (VII-VI centuries BCE) as “golden hair Zephyr” (Hymn to Eros, fragment V, 327).

• Eros, the god of eroticism, considered “the most terrible of the gods,” is described by an unknown, archaic Greek author as “golden-haired Eros.”

Belvedere_Apollo

• Apollo as it was conceived by the very Greek sculptors. We are talking about a Nordic-white racial type slightly Armenized. Along with Athena, he was the most worshiped god throughout Greece, and particularly loved in Sparta.

Apollo is described by Alcaeus as “fair-haired Phoebus.” Phoebus is Apollo. On the other hand, Alcman of Sparta, Simonides (paean to Delos, 84), and an anonymous author, call Apollo “of golden hair,” while another epithet of his by Góngora—a Spanish author of the Renaissance but based on classic literary evidence—is “blond archpoet.” The famous Sappho of Lesbos speaks of “golden-haired Phoebus” in her hymn to Artemis.

• The god Rhadamanthus, son of Zeus and Europa, is described as blond in The Odyssey, and Strabo calls him “the blond Rhadamanthus” in his Geographica (Book III, 11-13).

• Dionysus is called by Hesiod “golden-haired” (Theogony 947).

• Hecate, goddess of the wilderness and also of the Parthians, is described by an unknown Greek poet as “golden haired Hecate, daughter of Zeus.”

Artemis

• Artemis (illustration), the sister of Apollo is described by Sappho and Anacreon (Hymn to Artemis) as “blond daughter of Zeus.”

• The goddess Thetis, mother of Achilles, is called by Hesiod “of silver feet” (Theogony 1007), and by Homer “of silvery feet” (Iliad, I: 538, 556, IX : 410; XVI : 574, XVIII : 369, 381, XIV:89). Needless to say that a brown-skinned woman cannot have silvery feet: this is an attribute of extremely pale women.

• The Eunice and Hipponoe mermaids are described as “rosy-armed” by Hesiod (Theogony, ll. 240-264).

• Aphrodite, daughter of Zeus, goddess of love, beauty and female eroticism, is always described as a blonde. Its conventional title is almost always “Golden Aphrodite.” Ibycus (in Ode to Polycrates) calls Aphrodite “Cypris of blond hair.” Aphrodite held the title of Cypris (Lady of Cyprus) because the Greeks believed she was born in Cyprus, where she was particularly revered. In Hesiod’s Theogony she is called “golden Aphrodite” (824, 962, 975, 1006 and 1015) and “very golden Aphrodite” (980). In Homer’s Iliad we have “Aura Aphrodite” (IX: 389), and in The Odyssey as “golden haired.”

• The Graces were described by Ibycus as “green eyed” (fragment papery, PMG 288).

Above I listed Wilhelm Sieglin’s conclusions regarding the Hellenic pantheon as a whole. Let us now see the heroes.

• Helen, considered the most beautiful woman ever and an indirect cause of the Trojan War, was described by Stesichorus, Sappho (first book of poems, Alexandrian compilation) and Ibycus as “the blonde Helen” (Ode to Polycrates).

• King Menelaus of Sparta, absolute model of noble warrior, brother of Agamemnon and legitimate husband of Helen is many times “the blond Menelaus” both in The Iliad (a minimum of fourteen times, III: 284, IV: 183, 210, X: 240, XI: 125; XVII: 6, 18, 113, 124, 578, 673, 684, XXIII: 293, 438) and The Odyssey. Peisander described him as xanthokómes, mégas en glaukómmatos, meaning “blond of big blue eyes.” In Greek mythology, Menelaus is one of the few heroes who achieved immortality in the Islands of the Blessed.

• Cassandra, the daughter of Agamemnon and sister of Orestes, is described by Philoxenus of Cythera with “golden curls,” and by Ibycus as “green-eyed Cassandra.”

• Meleager is described as “the blond Meleager” by Homer (Iliad, II: 642), and in his Argonautica

Apollonius of Rhodes also describes him as blond.

• Patroclus, the teacher and friend of Achilles, is described as blond by Dion of Prusa.

• Heracles is described as strongly built and of curly blond hair, among others, by Apollonius of Rhodes in Argonautica.

• Achilles, considered the greatest warrior of the past, present and future, is described as blond by Homer in the Iliad when he is about to attack Agamemnon and, to avoid it, the goddess Athena retains him “and seized the son of Peleus by his yellow hair” (I:197).

• The Greek hero Ajax (Aias in the Iliad) is described as blond.

• Hector, the Trojan hero,[1] is described as swarthy in the Iliad.

• Odysseus, king of Ithaca, Achaean hero at Troy and protagonist of Homer’s Odyssey, is generally considered as swarthy. However, this can be tempered. Although he is described as white skinned and “dark bearded” in The Odyssey, his hair ishyakinthos, i.e., color of hyacinths. Traditionally this color was translated as “brown” but it was also said that the hyacinths grown in Greece were of a red variety. If true, that would make Odysseus red-haired.

• Odysseus in any case differs from the Greek hero prototype: tall, slender and blond. It was described as lower than Agamemnon but with broader shoulders and chest “like a ram” according to Priam, king of Troy. This could more likely be a physical type of a Red Nordid [2] than a typical white Nordid Greek hero. It should also be mentioned that Homer used so frequently to call “blonds” his heroes that, in two lapses, he described Odysseus’ hair as xanthos in The Odyssey.

• Laertes, the father of Odysseus, was blond according to Homer’s Odyssey.

• Penelope, Odysseus’ wife, and queen of Ithaca, was blonde in Homer’s Odyssey.

• Telemachus, son of Odysseus and Penelope, was blond in Homer’s Odyssey.

• Briseis, the favorite slave in the harem of Achilles—captured in one of his raids, and treated like a queen in golden captivity—was “golden haired.”

• Agamede, daughter of Augeas and wife of Mulius, was “the blonde Agamede” according to Homer (Iliad, XI: 740).

• In his Argonautica Apollonius of Rhodes describes Jason and all the Argonauts as blond. The Argonauts were a männerbund: a confederation of warriors which gathered early Greek heroes, many direct children of the gods who laid the foundations of the legends and fathered the later heroes, often with divine mediation. They took their name from Argos, the ship they were traveling and did their Viking-style landings.

Below I reproduce some passages of Nordic phenotypes in Greek literature. Note that these are only a few examples of what exists in all of Greek literature:

• “Blonder hairs than a torch” (Sappho of Lesbos, talking about her daughter in Book V of her Alexandrian compilation).

• “Galatea of golden hair” (Philoxenus of Cythera, The Cyclops or Galatea).

• “…with a hair of gold and a silver face” (Alcman of Sparta, praising a maiden during a car race).

• “…happy girl of golden curls” (Alcman of Sparta, in honor of a Spartan poetess).

Berlin_Painter_Ganymedes_Louvre

• “…blonde Lacedaemonians… of golden hair” (Bacchylides, talking about the young Spartans).

• Dicaearchus described Theban women as “blonde.”

The German scholar Wilhelm Sieglin (1855-1935) collected all the passages of Greek mythology which referred to the appearance of gods and heroes. From among the gods and goddesses, 60 were blond and 35 swarthy-skinned. Of the latter, 29 were chthonic-telluric divinities; marine deities such as Poseidon, or deities from the underworld. All of these came from the ancient pre-Aryan mythology of Greece. Of the mythological heroes, 140 were blond and 8 swarthy.

In this article, we have seen many instances of mythological characters, which is important because it provides us valuable information about the ideal of divinity and perfection of the ancient Greeks and points out that their values were identified with the North and the “Nordic” racial type. However, Sieglin also took into account the passages describing the appearance of real historical characters. Thus, of 122 prominent people of ancient Greece whose appearance is described in the texts, 109 were light haired (blond or red), and 13 swarthy.

_____________________

See also:

“The face of Classical Europe (II):
Were the Romans blond and blue-eyed?”

_____________________

Footnotes:

[1] “Trojan”—i.e., a non-Greek.

[2] An explanation of terms like “red Nordid,” “slightly Armenized,” etc., appears in other article of the website Evropa Soberana, also reproduced in this blog.

Extermination • III

Libro
CHAPTER 1:

THE STAR CHILD
 
 
 
 

A dream in Madrid

The day after my birthday in 2011 I received a wonderful gift, a long letter in Spanish, from which I translate here only one of the opening paragraphs:

You see, like you I was raised and educated in Mexico, where I was taught from school and the official media to despise my people and consider myself a mestizo. Had it not been for the rectifier comments of my parents probably I would be one of those many Criollos waving an enemy flag as if it was my own. The point is that it gradually dawned on me that the Mexican society was multiracial garbage where the Mongoloid-American element has replaced the European element, so causing the current state of anarchy and endemic violence.

“Criollos” or “Creoles” were the children of Spaniards born in the New World who had no drop of Amerind blood. It’s true what the Criollo said, whom I shall refer to as “Ibero,” that in Mexican public education Indian blood far outweighs the Spanish. So true that even some phenotypically Creole people are more identified with the American-Mongoloid element than with their European roots. No wonder the popular Mexican genius says, “Mexico is a surreal country.”

Such surrealism is a direct result of the continental experiment of the Counter-Reformation to genetically mix the European-Iberian with the American-Mongoloid. Never before it had been attempted a project of biological and social engineering on a continental scale in previous centuries and millennia! While the Spaniards used to talk of limpieza de sangre (purity of blood) and a caste system prevailed in the Americas, with the peninsular Spaniards and the Criollos at the top of the pyramid, the desire to exploit economically the New World alongside the universalism of the papacy broke natural barriers between what, following William Pierce, were two different species of humans. The mix of European and Indian worsened considerably with the massive importation of blacks to the mainland. Few know that more blacks arrived in the Spanish and Portuguese colonies of America than to the colonies of their Anglo northern neighbors. The difference is that here they amalgamated earlier, resulting in the formation of a crossbreed stock of the three races that explains the falling behind of the nations south of the Río Bravo.

In the mid 1970s I studied two years at the Madrid School of Mexico City. Back then most of my peers were Caucasian, some even blond: children of refugees of the Franco regime. (The school I knew no longer exist. On February 16, 2014 I received a visual shock when seeing more than a dozen classmates of one of my nephews from the Madrid. There was only one that might be considered white.) The Viceroyalty of New Spain lasted exactly three hundred years, from 1521 to 1821. In one of the history lessons I received in the Madrid School, the teacher revealed that the New Spaniards amused themselves by classifying the mixtures between the three races. Note that in the list below, a transcript of the footnotes of the sixteen illustrations of various Mexican parents with their children, the “Morisco” should not be confused with the peninsular Moor, or “Chino” with the inhabitant of China, or “Gíbaro” with the Amazonian Jívaro tribe:

1.- Spanish with Indian, mestizo
2.- Mestizo with Spanish, castizo
3.- Castizo with Spanish, Spanish
4.- Spanish with mora [negress], mulatto
5.- Mulatto with Spanish, morisco
6.- Morisco with Spanish, chino
7.- Chino with Indian, salta atrás
8.- Salta atrás with mulatto, lobo [literally, wolf]
9.- Lobo with china, gíbaro
10.- Gíbaro with mulatta, albarazado

Castas

11.- Albarazado with negro, cambujo
12.- Cambujo with Indian, sambaigo
13.- Sambaigo with loba, calpamulato
14.- Calpamulato with cambuja, tente en el aire [literally, stay in the air]
15.- Tente en el aire con mulatta, noteentiendo [literally, I don’t get you]
16.- Noteentiendo with Indian, tornatrás [literally, jump back]

(The Jews were not included in this melting-pot list of the three races as the Inquisition always kept them at bay; although some say that every Spanish has at least a drop of Jewish blood.) In today’s Mexico these New Spaniard terms are no longer used but the naco, analogous to the North American nigger, is used to refer disparagingly the mestizo with pronounced Amerind features.

In a coffeehouse in the center of Tlalpan in Mexico City, on January 26, 2012 to be exact (as good autobiographer, I keep a diary), I personally met Ibero, the author of the above-cited epistle, when he returned from his stay in Spain. After a long conversation we agreed that we would start a radio program for Latin American Creoles, and that we would meet on Saturday to plan the details. Ibero spoke to cancel the appointment the same week we met and mysteriously did not answer my numerous e-mails. I let time pass and decided to phone him more than a year later, on 31 March 2013. His answer was laconic, and the tone of his voice was not benign. I forgot the matter but later that year, on December 14, Ibero called back. He was very apologetic; insisted on an appointment that afternoon, and we met at another coffeehouse in Tlalpan, near where I live, El caldero chorreado (a translation of The leaky cauldron), in honor of the Harry Potter movie that Alfonso Cuarón filmed.

After coffee I invited Ibero to see my bookshelves, which are under my sister’s house. All the talk had been, from the coffeehouse, friendly until for some reason the subject of Mediterraneans and Nordics was brought up. I was surprised that, with bilious zeal, Ibero said something like: “We [the Mediterraneans] have saved them [the Europeans] more than once!” Ibero ignores that the ruling castes of the ancient Greeks and Romans were Nordic, as shown in FR. Even in the early Middle Ages, Charles Martel, as a Frank, came from a Germanic tribe. But I was surprised when I told him that, to save myself from the currency crisis that is coming, it would be ideal to move to Iceland. I did not record the conversation, I just wrote down what he said: “They kill you!,” “They’d kill us!” or “They’ll kill us!” (when writing the diary I was not sure which of those phrases had been the most accurate and wrote down all three). He meant that the Icelanders would kill us if we dared to emigrate there. I was shocked because I thought it was obvious that the nacos would terminate us—not the Aryans—after the collapse of the dollar leads to social chaos in the largest metropolis in Latin America. I was stunned at Ibero’s vehemence and did not say anything. But when I showed him in a bookshelf the 2011 edition of Arthur Kemp’s March of the Titans, he got very upset. Although I do not remember the specific reason of the anger, the image of Ibero greatly exalted when showing him the book is very much present.

I feel bound to say that on my recent trip to the United Kingdom I visited Kemp in an ideal village to live: far from traitorous London and where I saw no people of color. Years ago Kemp’s car was vandalized by the antifa while working in the British National Party, so I’ll omit mention where he now lives. Suffice it to say that he was very kind to me, a real tourist guide. He took me in his car to Chester and several places of interest: beautiful English countryside far from the Babel of the large British cities. My talks with Arthur in one of the very small towns we visited revealed something I suspected but was not sure.

The anger not only of Ibero, but of a good portion of the white nationalist community about March of the Titans is due to such an elemental truth that it requires complete brainwashing by racial egalitarianism not to see it: The concept “Nordic” refers to those whites who are less mixed. It’s that simple. No one who reads Pierce or Kemp fails to see so elementary fact.

History is the tallest tower of experience, wrote Van Loon, the queen of the humanities; and he who fails to base his understanding of race on it—classics like Gobineau, Chamberlain and Günther—won’t learn the Letter A of racial studies. Most white nationalists persist in not seeing what they have in front of their noses and claim that those who have lived for millennia in the Mediterranean, so close to the Levant and Africa, have virtually the same percentage of non-whites genes that Scandinavians. Not only many so-called white nationalists cling to the absurd premise that the mixture was negligible. Those Mediterraneans with inferiority complex so take this revelation like a bomb that Arthur’s family suffered harassment by e-mail from a Greek man of very dark skin, the stalker came to be called, who felt insulted for the book.

Before I met Arthur I supposed the critique of Christianity by Kemp in a book that took years to investigate was a factor of the visceral rejection of March of the Titans coming from many white nationalists and Mediterraneanists. In the “very small town” I won’t name I became disabused. Questioning Arthur I realized that the cause was simply the most abject state of denial before the elemental on the part of those who had browsed the online version of the book. (Ignorant racists because, as I told Kemp, he had not done anything but “reinventing the wheel” already devised by Gobineau.) And this, even though Kemp was always very polite in his texts by adding, immediately afterwards, that not all Spanish, Greek, Slav or Balkan inhabitants had suffered considerable miscegenation. Qualifying his findings in each chapter was not enough. The mere fact of making discriminative distinctions drives crazy the “racists” who are currently “fighting” the dogma of equality, Ibero included.

Following my meeting with Ibero in El caldero chorreado he invited me to what, as I understood, would be a meeting of Creole nationalists to be held on 21 December. I hesitated but decided to go at the last minute. Besides Ibero I had not met anyone knowledgeable of “white nationalist” literature over the internet, and despite our differences I could not resist the temptation of meeting more people that, like Ibero, were familiar with the subject.

When I parked my car on the street Mecanógrafos in the Sifón neighborhood, where the meeting was held, I was struck by the rock music played in one of the houses. I thought some naco neighbors were having a party and wondered if the noise would mar our meeting. Imagine my surprise to learn that the “music” came exactly from Ibero’s friend’s home! In announcing my arrival to the woman who opened a window, she summoned the one who had invited me. Another surprise: with Ibero a guy on costume with a swastika on his arm opened the door! What left an impression on me was that Ibero’s companion was not Criollo. He was clearly a hybrid whose Mongoloid-American element stand out. As a courtesy, I won’t mention his name but in this book we shall call him “Mestizo.”

Upon entering the party—not a meeting of intellectuals as I had imagined—I was surprised again to see it be held in winter outdoors. At the back of the yard I saw a fabric with the sign of the German SS and another with the Blade of Burgundy: Nazism and Creole nationalism. In my idealized vision I had imagined people like, say, the racially conscious gentlemen of the London Forum I would meet the month before last. But the anti-music and outdoor December party were the opposite: they would perform a crude pagan celebration at midnight, a popular holiday condemned by the pope. More surprising still was that among a few whites were more people of swarthy skin. I could not believe it and the situation turned openly surreal—the surrealism that Mexicans are fond to self-parody—when the friendly Mestizo with his swastika on the arm said “I’m white” to a group of guests, standing and drinking alcoholic beverages. I remembered an adolescent story of Arturo’s follies, one of my classmates of the Madrid School. Arturo once got into his car some transvestites and the police stopped him. One of them made a scene by yelling at the police: “I have vagina! I have vagina!…” Arturo commented that, if he said that, it was obvious that he did not have one. The same is true of those airing from the rooftops that they are “white.” Although I spoke some time in the yard’s party with Ibero, Mestizo and a Punk who showed me the wounds of his fights against the antifas, I could not long stand the music and the cold and left. And yes: the trio was very kind to me and accompanied me off the street.

The following month, the first Sunday of 2014, I saw again Ibero and Mestizo but this time in the Casa del Té—a place chosen by me—in the Condesa neighborhood where, without quarreling, I informed them that I was the staunchest nordicist in the Anglophone blogosphere. I explained that it was all a platonic love for the nymph Catalina when I was in my early twenties. It was then that Ibero confessed that he did not read my blog, and I assumed that the cause was precisely the nordicist articles I was reproducing and my open contempt for Spain. Let’s recall that in FR I pick texts by William Pierce and Kenneth Clark where it is alleged that the Iberian Visigoths allowed to be duped by Christianity, thus breaking their ancient taboo of never mixing with non-Goths, and henceforward Spain had not contributed substantially to the development of the ideas that create Civilization. But what Ibero and Mestizo ignored is that my nordicism obeyed a tragedy that prevented me to relate, among other realities of life, with Catalina (tragedy that I’ll tell in the long chapter “In Search for the Soulmate,” although I mention some of it in the first book of HS).

Although our differences were irreconcilable, I felt very curious to know a little more about the group. In a couple of weekends after a flu that hit me, Mestizo and I met in other places: the first one, a solitary coffee shop on a side of the central church in Coyoacán; the second, at a restaurant in Paseo de la Reforma with distant group members (Ibero missed those meetings while Punk had problems with the law). At the last meeting I witnessed another incredibly surreal scene. Fabián, who barely knew the group had invited one Gabriel at the meeting: a subject with light skin but whose brachycephalic head denoted rude Indian ancestry. Mestizo degraded Gabriel in front of me, Fabián and Pedro—a son of Spaniards—by telling the other mestizo that, due to his Indian-white mixed breed, he could not belong to the group. Gabriel, who had arrived wearing Nazi paraphernalia, was a young man with good feelings and the degradation ceremony distressed me so much that I left the table. Even for Pedro, an authentic Criollo, it seemed excessive what Mestizo did to the other mestizo for being mestizo, and tried to make modest amends.

If we keep in mind that the ethno-state that will emerge in North America will have to know the peculiar psychology of her southern neighbors, you will understand why I mention such colorful anecdotes. The racial complex of the Mexicans is not limited to Mestizo. There is much “coconut” in the country: people brown outside and white inside. Even so-called neo-Nazi groups in Mexico are composed mostly of this type of people. I have seen in the subway of the big city very dark-skinned brown women with bleaching creams on their arms, and have heard of a mother who disowned her daughter for not having being born white. (Mrs. Hypocrite!: she was the one who married a very dark-skinned man!)

Surrealism also occurs in reverse, and even among the Mexican intelligentsia. A family member told the bizarre story about a man who visited my parents’ house: the partner of the former director of the Madrid School, Cristina Barros, granddaughter of the famous Justo Sierra. (Cristina’s daughter, Isabel, was fair-headed, perfectly dolichocephalic and of sublime facial features. To me she always seemed a nymph of pure “nordish” stock but, in reality, her blood was of the most Aryan type existing among Spaniards. She and her family travel with Mexican passports.) Cristina’s partner, whose name escapes me, said with total vehemence that he was “a pure Indian”—something that contradicted all appearances! Although it may seem laughable, there are not only “coconuts” aspiring to white in Mexico, but whites who repudiate their Creole blood as well. We cannot understand the impossible chimera of different ethnic groups that is now called “Mexico”—Indians that not even speak Spanish, a few Criollos, the full range of mestizos and dark-skinned browns with negro blood—if one ignores the psychic toll that such concoction of races caused.

The last time I saw Ibero and Mestizo was on 19 April this year I write in a homely meeting at which only these two attended. The other group members are hobbyists, as they take “Criollo” preservation more like a hobby than a profession. In the meeting Ibero said such an aberration that I won’t sit and take it.

He said, as I annotated the following day, that he did not mind the blond hair or blue eye to become extinct “provided the generic white survive,” i.e., the non-Aryan, peninsular Spaniard like him. Taking into account that I am devoted body and soul to the archetype of the nymph Catalina we did not see or talked again after that meeting; but that night I discovered that Mestizo had better feelings, as he was concerned that the blue-eyed blonds became extinct.

If we translate to Oldspeak Ibero’s vocabulary his words mean something like: “I don’t care that the white race is extinguished always providing the Criollo-types survive,” that is, the mudbloods, as the vast majority of Creoles are not even remotely as pure whites as Catalina or Isabel.

Ibero turned out to be my ideological antipode insofar I am so devoted to the archetype of my hyper-Nordic Catalina as that feudal nobility of the 12th century who fabled with an inaccessible and deified woman. Since childhood, my mind and my most cherished taste for those I fancy have been clearly and inexorably medieval.

The semantic trap in Ibero’s ideology is to call generic white those who are not. “White” as I said in FR refers to the European mixture that occurred in the United States and Canada before the migration of Jews in the late 19th century. Ibero and Mestizo abuse the term by referring to those folk that are far from the Aryan paradigm—Aryans that still exist, though they are very few, in Latin America. (The statistics of the article with the title of “Blanco” in the Spanish-written Wikipedia are misleading: they are based on surveys of mestizo-Americans that, as Mestizo does, call themselves “white” or “of white ancestry”.) Ibero’s stance is aggravated by granting amnesty to people who, without a doubt, are as mestizos as his colleague: accused physiognomies that remind me of the Moorish actors I have seen in several Spanish TV series filmed in the peninsula. “Generic white” does not mean Indo-European. Ibero misuses language as mestizo-Americans abuse words like “Latino” or “Hispanic” in the United States to refer to immigrants of the color of poop.

Although Mestizo has good feelings, cognitively he is a goner because, unlike the Brazilian, he has no objection to breed, as Ibero.

The latter is what the Spanish-speaking Metapedia denominates “mediterraneanist”: people who believe that the “meds” are superior to the Nordic.

In my discussions with Ibero I noticed he has got a clear animosity toward the real Aryans. In the last meeting I saw them he told me that those who fought with most courage in World War II were the Spaniards; and when I mentioned the looming monetary and energy crises he said he was hopeful that Spain would be saved. That is what matters to him.

I mention these stories because, I believe, Sebastian Ernst Ronin’s critique of white nationalism, a late version of American universalism, is correct. Ronin claims that all nationalism is ultimately ethno-nationalism, and that it makes no sense to use the word “white” in Europe.

The case of Ibero illustrates it. Though born in Mexico, Ibero is an ethno-nationalist (a Creole nationalist) to use Ronin’s language, not a “white nationalist.” He apparently has no Indian blood: his heart is in Spain or, rather, in an Hispanic America. Extrapolating the concept of “white race” to Europe is launching into a fool’s errand. Doing it in Spain would literally charge at windmills for the simple fact that many of the “meds” are not even white. Most people of the Iberian Peninsula will identify with other “meds” and, what is infinitely worse, with clearly mesticized people like the Hispanic Americans. Ronin is right: you cannot create “white” awareness among WASPs and MEDs of Europe or Latin America, including authentic Criollos. Perhaps it is worth mentioning that, the day of the pagan party outdoors, Ibero drove back some of the guests: pure English girls living in Mexico. When Ibero’s ideology—whom I repeat: has no-Amerindian blood—came up, one of these English said: “But you’re not white.”

The key to the whole thing is to notice how the inferiority complex of the Mediterranean, so well exemplified in Ibero, sometimes almost comes to desire the extinction of the real whites. It’s not only bothering he does not care that blue-eyed blonds become extinct—presumably, only an eccentric and expendable subset of the “generic white” in his mind. When I was on speaking terms with him I always detected a kind of peevishness towards them. And what’s scary is inferred from this, taking into account the harsh criticism of Ronin to white nationalism.

Although he has no Jewish blood, Ibero is a kind of Jew as he uses his Iberian genotype and phenotype as platform and inferiority complex to degrade the competition. And the competition is no less than the true white. Ibero is, as his internet pennames denote, an “Iberolobo,” a “Peninsular.” He never emphasizes, as I do, the fact that the peninsular Portuguese irreparably tarnished their genes with sub-Saharan, African blood. Although he and Mestizo—especially Ibero—have a good grasp of the content of white nationalist blogs for English speakers, Ibero’s mind orbits around another gravitational field: Spain and its American transplant. He is a silent scholar of English blogs only as inspirational material on how to develop a “Criollo” equivalent in the Americas. By remembering his outburst against Icelanders when I told him if I had money I would move there—with true Vikings genetically speaking—, we will see something fundamental. I never heard from Ibero a similar rebuff against the Mediterraneans, Amerinds, mestizos or Jews. Only the nordish peoples seem to arouse his anger.

I will be told that the case of Ibero is eccentric, and that it is illogical to generalize from an isolated case. But it is not so isolated. Drawing on my recent trip to London I will tell something I saw at the Millennium Bridge.

I joined a walking tour on the bridge led by a young man who spoke, in Spanish, of the desire to divorce of Henry VIII as if it was “a tantrum of a brat” which the Pope did not grant. Although many Spaniards have lost their faith, you may still feel the cultural inertia of previous centuries. Ibero himself, who is not Catholic, has told me he does not like the English. Similarly to the tour for Spaniards, contemporary nationalism reinforces ancient grudges between the nations. Europeans are not united by a common lack of skin melanin! Unlike them I do not care if the divorce was legitimate; only that the establishment of an independent church by Henry VIII helped to break the monolithic power of the Catholic Church which had chained the thought of the white man throughout Europe. An old-styled nationalist in Spain would never reason that way!

To be fair to Ibero, I must make it clear that his anti-nordicism can go completely unnoticed unless someone presses him a little. That distinguishes him from the ancient hatred of Jews for Aryans, who so badly want to exterminate them that in their Talmud they proclaim that “the best of the gentiles must be exterminated.” In other words, the animosity of Ibero before the Aryans is only dormant, not omnipresent as in the case of our ethnic enemies. However, Ibero’s mind is perfectly understood when we note his words, that he has repeated more than once: “I’m not a second-class white!” Actually, as the English girl who he gave a raid said, he’s not even properly white.

Had Hitler’s dream been fulfilled—an Aryan empire from the Atlantic to the Urals—the most Aryanized Spaniards would be already thinking like me, not as Ibero. But I would like to put forward a direct response to his stance that it doesn’t matter that blue-eyed blonds become extinct, and that what only matters are the so-called generic whites, with the opposite fantasy: although it was a gift from the unconscious.

Some years before meeting Ibero, in November 12, 2008, I arrived at the Madrid airport after barely sleeping the previous night in mainland and across the ocean for nervousness to travel: something that usually happens to me the day before transatlantic voyages. Falling into deep sleep that night in a city I had never been, something happened. Unlike my dreams that opened the chapters of my HS, so riddled with symbols, this time the descent into the abyss of my being took me to something I had known for some time but was no longer in the front of my consciousness. But before quoting the content of the naked “dream” without symbols I must say I slept in a soulless building, which was surrounded by more of them: residential complexes like those that have become so fashionable in the West since the culture fell.

The dream had somehow present the rudimentary faces of the Spaniards who had been in the neighborhood without soul where I slept. The message from my unconscious that awoke me suddenly well after midnight let me know that we had to level all that vacuous culture, wiping out the ugly people living there. In other words, in no way my destiny in life ended with the Hojas I wanted to publish (that trip to Spain, I naively believed, would lead to find a publisher for my 700-page book). No: there was not nearly the last word in my Hojas. The wake up dream on another continent, after some thirty-odd hours of not sleeping and then falling into the depths of my being, was analogous to those dreams in which the person believes to have received a divine message: You still have to speak about the extermination of the Neanderthals, César: you still need to talk about it…

Six years have passed since that night of late 2008, but instead of delving further into my unconscious let us continue our story.

Quite independently of my dream in Madrid, it would hurt me horrors that whites with brown hair and/or brown eyes became extinct. There are precious Aryans with black hair—think of the Liza Taylor in 1952 who filmed Ivanhoe or the 1889 painting by Heinrich Hoffman, Christ and the Rich Young Ruler (though of course: the neighborhood Madrilenians where I slept seemed troglodytes compared to them). I’m perfectly capable of appreciating the dark hair to the degree of falling in love if you reach that level of beauty for my eyes. But people like Ibero give us a slight clue to the envy of those who, during the Jacobin terror, sent to the guillotine the blonds of Paris (as Kemp tells us in his magnum opus).

In Europe “white nationalism” not only does not exists: it cannot exist. Ibero is neither white nationalist nor a Nazi, although the website of him and Mestizo, Visión Blanca, sometimes exhibits a rare fetish for Third Reich paraphernalia, a subject that Mestizo is more knowledgeable than us. As already explained, Ibero is simply an Iberian-Latin-American nationalist: he defends the Caucasoids of this part of the continent despite their mudblood. What is striking of quite a few white nationalists who blog or comment in English is that, as Ibero, they are capable of the doublethink that someone with brown skin is “white” simply because he is native of towns along the Mediterranean coast. The truth is that some Europeans are as “white” as Ibero’s partner, Mestizo. If those internet anti-nordicists who have offended me were confronted with pictures of both, they could not decide who is the American mestizo and who, say, the contemporary Greek.

No wonder that, once broken the Visigoth taboo of not mixing with the Mediterranean, the resulting stock of ancient Hispania embraced Christianity with such superstitious vehemence. Pierce said it clearly: the physical beauty of the Aryans is the splendor of divinity, so that the Christians (as the perpetrators of the Jacobin terror with the guillotined blonds) smashed the statues of the Greco-Roman world. A glance at the chapter on Hispania by Pierce in Who We Are is enough to see how the original Iberians mixed with the Semitic Carthaginians from time immemorial—long before the Muslim conquest of eight centuries, of which only the very stubborn say it did not leave a significant genetic mark. (Also, many Russian and Europeans of the Balkans mixed with Asians and Turks respectively.) This passage from the only non-fiction book from the pen of Pierce should be kept in mind:

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

By white Pierce understood of Indo-European origin; not what the newspeak of our days calls “Mediterranean,” “Hispanic” or worse, “Latino.” Independently of the behavior of the Brazilian, who according to the humorous illustration above would be a noteentiendo or tornatrás, he is well above the Criollo nationalists, white nationalists and even neo-Nazis (whom I have referred to in FR as fake Nazis). As seen in FR the Brazilian strongly believes in the “one-drop rule.”

Once one starts tolerating the first drops of non-white blood in one’s own body—say: the ancestral taboo that the Visigoths violated—, those drops will mark the beginning of the end. If we look at the history of the Iberian Peninsula from the highest tower of History we see that it is marked by two major Christian betrayals: the conversion of the Goths that broke the color barrier in the 6th century and, a thousand years later, the green light of a Pope for peninsular males to marry the conquered Amerindian. (In Portugal the church even allowed women to marry a number of imported negroes.) Regarding this last betrayal that began in the 16th century it is worth mentioning that, despite the system of castas the mestizos, the castizos and the harnizos used to bribe the Spanish authorities to be registered as “Criollos” though genetically they were not. These historical realities help us to understand the mind of Ibero’s partner, Mestizo; and also remind me the general amnesty that white nationalists have granted to the populations bordering the Mediterranean Sea.

There is no way to avoid the downward spiral of miscegenation once the line becomes blurred. If white nationalists lack the courage to draw a line highly enough the same fate will fall upon them—what happened to the continent conquered by the Spaniards and Portuguese. So-called Latin America is actually mestizo-America: a gigantic racial rubbish-dump from Río Grande to Tierra del Fuego. And this is true in spite of the fact that a tiny fraction of the population of these countries* remains authentically Aryan.


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* Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, Costa Rica, Cuba, Ecuador, El Salvador, Guatemala, Haiti, Honduras, Mexico, Nicaragua, Panama, Paraguay, Peru, Dominican Republic, Uruguay and Venezuela.

Parting word:

Only the eternal feminine leads to the Absolute

Catalina (1980)

Above, Maxfield Parrish’s 1925 Lady Violet, who reminds me a girl I met long, long time ago… If an ethno-state is ever created, my ultimate dream is that in the distant future its people will resemble the paradisiacal world of Parrish.

What prevents whites from working toward that noble end, keeping in mind that Aryan female beauty represents the crown of the evolution? Elsewhere I have discussed the majority report: Capitalism and Christian axiology as the twofold etiology of Western malaise (Jewish depredations, a tertiary infection). But I have also mentioned my minority report: that the most extreme cases of self-hatred among whites—those who celebrate that their kind will become a minority surrounded by non-white swarms—cannot be explained satisfactorily by any of these two factors.

In this blog I have briefly written about how child abuse among some whites drives them to hate the culture of their parents, and also presented my book Hojas Susurrantes, most of which has not been translated to English.

After publication of this entry I won’t add new posts to this blogsite. Although I’ll still answer some comments, the site will basically remain frozen with the below PDFs advertising my books until the dollar crashes. But I’ll be busy explaining my minority report: writing another book related to the subject of why, in some families, the silly mechanism erected by the abused victim is none other than hatred for his or her parents’ civilization.

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Day of Wrath

The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour

Would Chechar fight for my balls?

Just look at the mirror every morning you shave
—and be honest!

 
In a previous thread Mr Deutsch said:

What I am not a supporter of: Accusations that Mediterraneans (outside of specific areas) have a comprised genetic pool. There is no science to back it up, so Nordicists…

I responded:

Not only outside Sicily or Greece. I said above I’m planning to write an autobiographical book that starts with my impressions of what I saw the first day I visited Madrid: most Spaniards are clearly not Aryans. That’s the whole point. parrish-1927 And since my mind starts to build his thoughts and motivations after the 14 words (see: here) it goes without saying that quite a few Iberians are of no use for my ultimate goal (see also the last pages of Day of Wrath)—racial purity is paramount.

To put it in extremely brutal terms, do you honestly believe that in the coming racial wars I would risk my life for the hairy balls (i.e., genetic material) of that brown Italian player you claim to be white? Gimme a break. Those testicles are of no interest for our higher goals. I would fight only for those whose sperm carries the info to create the “girls on the rocks” that Max Parrish was so fond of painting in times when the Americans still treasured their Nordish blood.
 

________________

(For the context of this brutal response see the ongoing
exchange in the previous thread: here.)

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