Responding to Jamie

by Mauricio

You need to transvalue your views on Hate and War.

Hate is a source of pure, raw power. The best source of Power.

Aryans need to re-learn how to tap into that source and use it effectively to destroy their enemies completely, forever.

It should be obvious by now, that in order for Aryans to continue to exist, all other human races have to die.

Seven billion humans must be exterminated. There is no other way.

And to accomplish that enormous, herculean, multi-generational task, the Aryan Man must adhere to a religion of infinite Hatred.

The Aryan Man must become a remorseless, relentless, genocidal mass-murderer of non-Whites and White traitors, or he will cease to exist; or Beautiful Eyes will disappear forever.

Therefore he must wage War against Non-whites mercilessly.

War is Chaos, and Chaos is Nature’s way of determining who is Strongest.

Hatred is Strength, and Strength is Power.

To win the War, Aryans must religiously Hate their non-Aryan enemies enough to carry out a Hundred Year Race War of Extermination of 7 Billion. Infinite Hatred.

Kill all sub-humans until there is no more dark skin and dark eyes on this Earth.

I can’t explain it any simpler than this.

Blood Purity will bring the ‘End of Unnecessary Suffering’.

Anything else will inevitably lead to the extinction of White Beauty.

Anything else means Whites were not fit to exist.

Pallas Athena

Mauricio’s words yesterday, that he will echo Savitri’s:

… call with a resounding prayer worthy of the 4 words:
Death to America! Death to China! Death to Russia! Death to all nations!
Death to all the Subhuman Scum of this world!
May the Great Suffering come in our lifetimes!
May it bring the End of this long Cycle of Unnecessary Suffering!
May it bring the Beginning of a new Cycle of Necessary Struggle!

—remind me that Jung said that the ultimate archetypal symbol for wisdom was represented by goddesses like Pallas Athena. How is it? Let’s compare for a moment the best post-1945 racialist thinkers, Savitri and William Pierce.

While it is true that Pierce reached the highest heights a pro-Aryan could reach with Who We Are and The Turner Diaries, he failed to say in a non-fiction book that the vision of his Diaries, where billions are exterminated in a race war, is the noblest goal we can imagine as long as the surviving Aryans live up to the 4 words (‘eliminate all unnecessary suffering’).

Never forget the measures the Third Reich took against cruelty to animals! It is key information why the ultimate symbol of wisdom has to be represented by a compassionate woman, like Pallas Athena / Savitri Devi, in the darkest hour for the fair race that began in 1945.

Published in: on March 31, 2022 at 9:45 am  Comments Off on Pallas Athena  
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Reflections of an Aryan woman, 103

When will the inevitable Avenger come? He who will restore order, and put ‘every being in its place’? Is it my devotion to him that makes me—and has always made me—so fond of all the Forces that dominate from on high and seem to want to crush this insolent worm that is man?

Is he, in particular, who, in April 1947, made me greet the sight (and the subterranean roar!) of the Hekla in full eruption as one greets the divinities in the temples in India, and, in an ecstasy of joy, intone in Bengali the hymn to Shiva: ‘Dancer of Destruction, O King of the Dance’?

Was it he who urged me to walk all night along one of the seven lava flows, under a pale violet sky, flooded with moonlight, streaked with green aurora borealis fringed with purple, barred by a long black cloud of volcanic smoke—a sky against which the craters (there were several) hurled their jets of flame and their incandescent quarters of rock?

Was it he who, in the uninterrupted roar, bursting from the bowels of the trembling earth and sometimes bursting into sudden mouths of fire, made me recognise the sacred Syllable Aum: the very one which I had heard, and was to hear ever since, with adoration, coming out of the mouths of lions?

Was it the more or less obscure consciousness that they were themselves of the race of the One who returns from age to age and, like Him, defenders of the beauty of the Earth—the Avengers of the Strong against all anthropocentric and therefore egalitarian superstitions, and in particular against Christianity, then newly imposed on the proud Germanic people?

Was it this conscience, I say, that prompted the Vikings of Jütland, my mother’s ancestors, to sing their hymns to Donner and Thor alone in the middle of the fog, on the raging North Sea, joyous to hear, in the rolls of thunder, the answer of the Gods?

Perhaps. What is certain is that I have always been for untamed Nature, against man: for the lion and the tiger, against the hunter, sometimes very ugly and, in any case, however beautiful he may be, less beautiful than them, who live on the fringes of world decadence. What is certain, too, is that I have always been for the superior man, the strong, the conqueror (unless, like the European invaders of the New World [1] he uses his strength to spread some levelling doctrine, justifying all miscegenation), against the pacifist, benumbed in his pleasures; against the haircutter in four; and against the ‘scientist’, working ‘for humanity’ at the expense of innocent beasts; always been for the SS, against the Jew, and his servants more contemptible than himself.

Almost forty years ago I came to the Indies, seeking (for want of a better word) the tropical equivalent of Aryan and pagan Europe—of that Ancient World, where enlightened tolerance reigned, and the cult of the Beautiful drawing its very essence from the True. I have come and remained there; I have left and returned, always as a disciple of Adolf Hitler, the modern Face of He Who Returns; always animated by the spirit of the ‘fight against Time’ which he embodies, with all his glorious predecessors, and with Kalki, the Victor who must one day succeed him, and succeed them.

Now that there’s nothing else to do, my comrades, live with me in ardent anticipation of the end of this humanity, which has rejected us and our Führer. Mankind isn’t worth saving. May it go to all the devils, buried under the ruins of its hospitals, its laboratories, its slaughterhouses and its ‘nightclubs’! I quote to you the verses that Leconte de Lisle addresses to the Virgin Forest, burned, uprooted, shredded by man:

Tears and blood will sprinkle your ashes,
And you will spring from ours, O Forest!

These are words of anticipated joy for me.

I also remind you of the words of Goebbels at the time of the collapse of this Reich, for which we lived: ‘After the deluge: us!’

All that remains is to wish, to call with all our might ‘the Deluge’—the End, to make ourselves personally responsible for its coming, wishing for it day and night.

I would desire it, I would call for it, even if I were persuaded that none of us—including myself, of course; including those whom I most admire and love—would survive it. The world is too ugly, without its true Gods—without the sense of the sacred in life—for the Strong not to yearn for its end.

My comrades: join me, and let us echo with Wotan the Song of the End:

Eins will ich: das Ende; das Ende!

The world without humans is far and away preferable to the world in which no human elite will rule anymore. The lion’s roar will again be heard everywhere, in the course of the nights, under the moonlit sky, or dark and full of stars. And again the living will tremble before a King worthy of them.

Savitri Devi Mukherji

___________

[1] With the spread of Christianity miscegenation took, in Latin America especially, an unprecedented extension.

Reflections of an Aryan woman, 102

Perhaps the last great collective Aryan creation in the West was that of the German Third Reich, with the architects of the new Chancellery and the Nuremberg Stadium; the sculptors Arno Brecker and Kolbe, and the interpreters of Wagner—in particular, the extraordinary conductor Fürtwangler. It was the result of a prodigious upsurge of the whole of Germany, under the inspiration of the supreme artist, Adolf Hitler, against the tide of world decadence. This momentum was abruptly interrupted, after only six years, by England’s declaration of war on Germany, immediately followed by the familiar coalition of hatred, under the overt or subtle leadership of the Jews.

 

______ 卐 ______

 

Editor’s note: This is where Savitri and many white nationalists fail, in that the leadership actually came from the American ethno-traitors (see what I said yesterday about John Mearsheimer). That doesn’t mean that Jewry is non-guilty. It means that Jewry was always a minor player compared to the anti-German initiative of the Anglo-Americans. (The best metaphor I can think of is a poison in which the active ingredient is provided by the ethno-traitors, and the catalyst that accelerates that poison by the Jews.)

 

______ 卐 ______

 

Everything that the non-German West has produced recently that is truly great—in France, for example, the work of a Robert Brasillach, a Henry de Montherlant, a Céline, a Benoît-Méchin, a Saint-Loup—has been, in one way or another, affected by the spirit of the Reich. There is, moreover, from one end to the other, a deep pessimism like a prescience of the inevitable death or the ‘decline of the West’ already announced by Spengler.

And the East is no better. It lives on its traditional wisdom; it performs its immutable rites and quotes its sacred scriptures whose content is older than prehistory since it is truth itself—non-human truth. But it doesn’t seem to have the strength to draw from it anything to regenerate from top to bottom. (It is, I remind you, a Hindu minority, as well as a European one, and a minority without political influence, alas, that has understood what eternal link exists between Hitlerism and the Doctrine of violent action in absolute detachment, as preached by Lord Krishna to the Aryan warrior Arjuna, in the Bhagawad-Gita).

I have, on the other hand, now, in 1971, found in India more echoes than ever of the expression of my passionate expectation of the Kalki avatar, and the end of the Dark Age. Others await it as I do, and they too don’t feel that there is anything to deplore at the thought of the end of man—except for those few whom the last divine Incarnation will welcome as collaborators, deeming them worthy to open with Him the Golden Age of the next Cycle.

There is no reason to be saddened by the idea that the innumerable ugliness that we see spreading everywhere, on every continent, will one day be definitively swept away along with those who have produced them, encouraged or tolerated them, and who continue to produce new ones.

There is no need to be saddened by the fear that the old and beautiful human creations—the Pyramids of Giza, the Parthenon, the temples of South India, Ellora, Angkor, Chartres Cathedral—may well be swept away along with them, in the colossal fury of the End.

The ugliness that man has accumulated, the desecrations of the Earth of which even the best races have been guilty in this century of universal decay, neutralise by far all that the genius of the Ancients has produced that is greatest and most beautiful. They make us forget the winged bulls of Babylon and Assyria, the friezes of the Greek temples and the Byzantine mosaics, and tip the scales in favour of the disappearance of the human species.

Moreover, eternal works no longer belong in today’s world. We don’t even see them anymore. The ugly glass and steel buildings for offices, erected recently in the centre of Athens around the Place de la Constitution, completely hide the view of the Acropolis from anyone standing in the square. The frame of the four-thousand-year-old cities is destroyed. Lycabettos, three-quarters stripped of its beautiful pine forest, is no longer Lycabettos in the eyes of those who knew and loved it fifty years ago.

And so it is everywhere. It is, or will be tomorrow on a planetary scale, the realisation of the sacrilegious dream of Descartes and all the devotees of anthropocentrism. It is the triumph of the immense human anthill over the savannah, the desert, all the terrestrial spaces where the superior man could still be alone and, through visible beauty and contact with the innocence of private life of the word, commune with the eternal.

Published in: on March 29, 2022 at 11:48 am  Comments Off on Reflections of an Aryan woman, 102  

Reflections of an Aryan woman, 93

If there is an immanent Justice, it is to be wished that such people die of hunger and thirst, abandoned, disowned by all those in whose affection they believe, on some deserted island or at the bottom of a dungeon. They are sometimes punished in an unexpected way, such as the man and woman whose punishment was reported in the journal of the Société Protectrice des Animaux of Lyon, without publishing their names.

Parents of a six-year-old boy, they had, despite the child’s cries and pleas, pushed the dog out of the door of their car, which had devoted all its love to them, and then set off again at full speed, arrived at their holiday destination, settled into a hotel and fell asleep without remorse. But serene Justice was watching.

The next day, the two unworthy people found their only son dead, in a pool of blood he had cut his veins with his father’s Gillette. On the bedside table they found, written in his childish hand, a few words: his verdict against them and all those like them; something to remember day and night, for the rest of their lives: ‘Daddy and Mommy are monsters. I can’t live with monsters!’

This act of heroism by a very young child could not, alas, give the unfortunate beast back its lost home. But it has symbolic value. It proclaims, in its tragic simplicity, that in this world of the Dark Ages, almost at its end, where everything belongs to man, and where man belongs more and more to the Forces of the Abyss, it is better to die than to be born. It is similar, in its essence, to all the glorious suicides motivated by an intense disgust with the environment that was once respected if not admired, to the sudden revelation of one’s true vileness, for all vileness—especially all treason—is cowardice. It is similar to all similar acts of heroism—suicides or, sometimes, murders requiring even more despair than suicide—motivated by the awareness that the inevitable future, the consequence of the present, can only be hell.

I am thinking, in particular, of the words that the sublime Magda Goebbels addressed to the aviatrix Hanna Reitsch, a few days before giving her six children the poison that was to save them from the horror of the post-war period: ‘They believe in the Führer and the Reich’, she said. ‘When these are no more, they will have no place in the world. May Heaven give me the strength to kill them!’

In the world the Führer had dreamed of, cowardice—and especially cowardice on the part of people of the Aryan race—would have been unthinkable. The boy whose death I have recalled would have been at ease there, for he only wanted to live among people as noble as himself (and no doubt his ancestors). He would surely have felt, in the Defender of eternal values—like himself a friend of animals, and especially of dogs—a leader worthy of his total allegiance. But the last attempt at recovery had failed, fifteen years before his birth. The present world, the post-war world, was revealed to him in the person of his abominable parents.

Because it was not only those who believed and still believe in ‘the Führer and the Reich’ but all ‘good and brave’ characters, all Aryans worthy of the name, who had no place in it, and whom one meets there—as one might expect—less and less.

 

______ 卐 ______

 

Editor’s Note:

‘In this world of the Dark Ages, almost at its end, where everything belongs to man, and where man belongs more and more to the Forces of the Abyss…’

I couldn’t have said it better! We live in the darkest hour of the West, and we must pray that Mordor will soon be covered in lava after the ring is cast into the place it should never have come from.

Reflections of an Aryan woman, 92

I remember with nostalgia the beautiful cats that abounded, more than half a century ago, in the streets and houses of the good city of Lyon where I was born, and where I grew up.

Rare were the shops where one didn’t see one of these felines sitting at the door, or comfortably stretched out on the counter, or rolled up in a ball in its basket, somewhere in a corner, well-fed, loved, trusting, ready to be caressed by the child that I was. There was rarely a family without one, unless there was a dog in its place, also loved, pampered, happy (usually). Most city dwellers didn’t have holidays then, certainly not paid holidays. And the few who did, perhaps didn’t feel obliged to spend them away from home. Or, if they had to go away, at least one member of the family stayed behind to look after the animals or a neighbour who didn’t leave town, or a complaisant caretaker took care of it.

My parents had a cat since before I was born. And as far back as I can remember, I can see myself running my hand with delight through the warm, purring, silky fur, while a beautiful velvet head rubbed against me, and two half-closed amber eyes looked at me with total abandon.

Today, in the same city and so many others, rarer and rarer are the children who grow up in the daily company of beloved pets, dogs or cats. The question arises: ‘What should we do with them when we go on the necessary holidays? And what would be done with them if we had to move to a new building and weren’t allowed to have pets in the new flat?

It is no longer conceivable to spend a whole life in the same house, without annual holidays, without travel, without changes. One prefers to do without familiar animals rather than car trips. Few people give up all travel for the sake of the animals they have taken under their protection (I know a few who did, however) in case they cannot take them with them and cannot find anyone they can rely on to look after them.

On the other hand, at the time of the annual rush of holidaymakers out of the cities, one meets in the streets, along the roads, and even in the woods, sometimes tied to the trunks of trees, and thus destined to die slowly of thirst and hunger, abandoned animals. (A few years ago, several thousand dogs were discovered abandoned in this way in the forest of Fontainebleau.) They, in their innocence, had trusted men and given them unconditional love. And these same men had, for a time, seemed to love whom they had fed and pampered, and whom they finally kicked out of their carriage, to go away, with a light heart, without responsibilities, without embarrassment, to enjoy their leave; in fact, whom they had never loved.
 

______ 卐 ______

 

Editor’s note:

I would like to use this entry to reiterate my differences with Savitri regarding the animal kingdom. The best way to do it is to respond not to what Savitri just said, but to what a concerned reader told us yesterday. This was my response in that thread:

Amen, but I would put your #12 as my #1. After all, the first thing the Nazis did when they came to power was to ban cruelty to animals, right?

Regarding your #13, on this point I somewhat disagree with Savitri in that there is a serious conflict of interest between the species. Yesterday I saw a clip of some orange parakeets [only two seconds!: here] that really sublimated my soul when I saw them looking so sweet… If I had the power, I would exterminate those snakes that climb trees to hunt and swallow them.

Neither Savitri nor today’s Gaia fans (remember that old contributor of this site, Manu Rodríguez?) see this conflict of interest. They have idealised the animal kingdom just as Christians and neochristians idealise humans.

The way ‘my Kalki’, so to speak, understands exterminationism is somewhat different from Savitri’s Kalki.

Published in: on March 16, 2022 at 11:58 am  Comments Off on Reflections of an Aryan woman, 92  

Reflections of an Aryan woman, 87

‘With the death of Adolf Hitler in the close of the 2nd World War in 1945 Western civilization, as it had existed and is still perceived died once and for all. The only thing that was left now was a gene pool’.

—James Mason

So what is left for those who now live, devoted body and soul, to our ideal of visible (and invisible) perfection on all levels? On a global scale, or even a national scale, absolutely nothing. It is too late. The ‘twenty-fifth hour’ has come and gone, too long ago.

On an individual scale, or at least on a ‘restricted’ scale, we must preserve, insofar as it is still within our power, the beauty of the world—human, animal, vegetable, inanimate; all beauty—to watch over the elite minorities obstinately and effectively, ready to defend them at all costs: all the noble minorities, whether they be the Aryans of Europe, Asia or America, conscious of the excellence of their common race, or the splendid big cats threatened with extinction, or the noble trees threatened with the atrocious uprooting by bulldozers to install on their nourishing soil invasive multitudes of two-legged mammals, less beautiful and less innocent than themselves.

It remains to watch and resist, and to help any beautiful minority attacked by the agents of chaos; to resist, even if it only delays by a few decades the disappearance of the last aristocrats, men, animals or trees. There is nothing else one can do, except, perhaps, to curse in one’s heart, day and night, today’s humanity (with very rare exceptions), and to work with all one’s efforts for its annihilation. There is nothing to do but to make oneself responsible for the end of this cycle, at least by wishing it ceaselessly, knowing that thought—and especially directed thought—is also a force, and that the invisible governs the visible.

 

______ 卐 ______

 

Editor’s note:

I would like to clarify what I said about Richard Spencer in my previous post. Unlike him, our loyalties are not with a specific country, Europe or the West in general; but with the fourteen words. And if male westerners betray their ethnic group, our loyalties won’t ever be with them.

It’s tricky, because we are genetically programmed to defend the beauty of the nymphs on the sidebar, and we also need some males to impregnate them. How to overcome this apparent contradiction, when we are living amid the worst generation of whites since prehistoric times? Answer: the last step of the Mauritius scale tells us not to worry about male traitors.

In the case of the nymphs it’s different, in that we will need lots of them to fulfil the sacred words. If they are young, they’ll have a place in the ethnostate for that reason alone. (Of course: each girl will have to have at least ten or so children to repopulate the decimated planet after the coming apocalypse.)

In the case of men, a good marker of the West’s darkest hour is to ask ourselves who we admire. In today’s world, I admire no one but, from yesterday’s world, I admire quite a few Aryan men.

It’s different with women because we shouldn’t look at their character, only at their physique. I’m not the least bit interested in what they think because, after the Day of the Rope, they will gladly submit to the blond beast. So, unlike Spencer, those of us who belong to Savitri’s religion fully identify with her statement that today’s humanity (with very rare exceptions) deserves annihilation.

Spencer is ultimately a normie; Savitri, a true initiate.

Replying to Spencer

Richard Spencer has been harshly criticised on racialist forums (see for example the thread on Occidental Dissent, here). A couple of days ago I quoted a tweet in which Strom was replying to Spencer, but the latter has just tweeted:

Russia could drop a nuclear bomb in Western Europe, and the Traitors Coalition (Dissident Right and Dirtbag Left) will continue to yammer about NATO expansion, the Donbas region, and wokeness in America and the EU. I genuinely don’t think there is a limit to their insanity.

What people like Spencer don’t quite understand is that mushrooms over the Western capitals would represent the destruction of Mordor, after throwing the ring into the lava. If Mordor is burned down—the System’s capitals—, the white race will have a chance of salvation. (In Tolkien’s LOTR the story doesn’t end with the destruction of the ring. After that the Shire still must be saved and Saruman killed.)

Mixing metaphors, Spencer hasn’t read the book we are translating from French into English by Savitri Devi. Had he read it, he would have noticed that only Kalki saves, and this means genocide on an unprecedented scale—even, if necessary of our loved ones (see, e.g., our Savitri post today).

Published in: on March 10, 2022 at 2:37 pm  Comments Off on Replying to Spencer  

Reflections of an Aryan woman, 86

But that’s not all. The visible world around them was infinitely more beautiful than what is spread out today—or was spread out already yesterday and the day before yesterday—, in the vicinity of human agglomerations. It was more beautiful because there were then few men, and many animals, and trees, and immense inviolate spaces.

There is no worse enemy of the beauty of the world than the unlimited proliferation of man. There is no worse enemy of the quality of man himself than this overgrowth: it cannot be repeated too often that a choice must be made between ‘quantity’ and ‘quality’.

______ 卐 ______

 

Editor’s note: This is where the light-years of distance between Savitri and me compared to today’s racialists is most noticeable. It isn’t enough to say that there are billions of Neanderthals on the planet who disfigure the world. The Mauritian scale has to be climbed to level 10. In other words, grab hold of the Christian ethics that our parents and secular schooling instilled in us, wipe our asses with it, and do it publicly (as Putin is currently defecating on American hubris).

The Aryan who fails to understand this is not a real Aryan but a eunuch lobotomised with NT values.
 

______ 卐 ______

 
The history of our cycle is, like that of any cycle, the history of an indefinitely prolonged struggle between quality and quantity, until the victory of the latter: a complete victory, but a very short one, since it necessarily coincides with the end of the cycle, and the coming of the Avenger, whom I have called by his Sanskrit name: Kalki.

If I say that the heroic but practically useless attempt at ‘recovery’ represented by Hitlerism is the last—beyond which any effort of whatever magnitude against the current of Time, is doomed to immediate failure—it is because I know of no force in the present world able to stop universal decadence, in particular to pitilessly reduce the number of men while raising the quality of the survivors; none, that is, apart from that sole champion of the Powers of Light and Life, fully victorious: Kalki. Despite all the power and the prestige at his disposal, Adolf Hitler was unable to create—recreate—the conditions that were and remain essential for the blossoming of a Golden Age. He could neither suppress technology nor reduce the number of people in the world to anything like one-thousandth of what it is today, that is, practically to what it was during the centuries before our Dark Age.

It is possible and even probable that, victorious, he would have tried to do so, gradually. But his victory would have had to be complete, and not only on a European but on a world scale; and there would have been no power on earth to rival his and to thwart his work.

But then he would have been Kalki Himself, and we would now be living at the dawn of a new cycle. In fact, he needed technology, and at least a growing German population, to carry out his fight against the tide of time under the present conditions.

If, like many of his great predecessors who left behind them new civilisations, he had been partially successful in material terms, his work would hardly have lasted at all, simply because it was set in an era so close to the end of the cycle. Everything suggests that it would have deteriorated in a few years, given the sordid selfishness and stupidity of the vast majority of our contemporaries, even of the best races. The most skilful cook cannot make an appetising and healthy omelette with rotten eggs.

However atrocious it may seem to us, with its immediate and distant consequences, the military defeat of 1945 was still better than the galloping degeneration of a Hitlerian civilisation that appeared too late, after the definitive closure of the era of possible, albeit ephemeral, rectification!

Even in the collapse of the Third German Reich, even in the horror of the last days of the Führer and his ultimate followers in the Chancellery Bunker, under the blazing inferno that Berlin had become, there is a grandeur worthy of the tragedies of Aeschylus or the Wagnerian Tetralogy. The combat without hope and weakness of the superhuman hero against inflexible Destiny—his destiny, and the world’s—replayed itself there, undoubtedly for the last time.

The next time it won’t be giants or demigods, but miserable dwarfs who will suffer the inevitable destruction: billions of dwarves, banal in their ugliness, without character, who will disappear before the Avenger like an anthill destroyed by a lava flow.

In any case, whether or not we survive the painful childbirth of the new cycle, we won’t be among these dwarfs. The ordeal of 1945 and especially of the post-war years—the victoriously overcome ordeal of seductive prosperity—will have made us, the few, what we are and what we remain. And in the roar of unleashed power that will mark the end of all that we so cordially despise, we shall greet with a shiver of ecstasy the Voice of divine revenge, whose triumph will be ours—even if we must perish.

Better that, a hundred times, than participation in universal degeneration under a glorious security (but increasingly devoid of all meaning!) which would undoubtedly have been our lot, if the victorious Reich had survived the ‘twenty-fifth hour’.

Only Kalki saves

In the previous post today, Savitri said something central to understanding our abysmal differences with the American movement called white nationalism:

Only Kalki, the last of the avatars of Vishnu, or by whatever name men who are attached to the various expressions of the one Tradition like to call him, is assured of success in a battle against the tide of Time. And this success will then be total, consisting of nothing less than that absolute reversal of values that characterises the end of one world and the birth of an unknown and long unthinkable world. Accompanied by unprecedented destruction, it will signify the end of the present cycle: the end of the Dark Age, from which nothing good could come; the end of this cursed humanity, and the Appearance of conditions of life and means of expression similar to those of every Golden Age.

One way of showing this abysmal difference can be heard in the solo podcast that Greg Johnson uploaded today on his webzine along with other articles on the war in Ukraine. As a good neochristian, i.e., a secular man who unconsciously subscribes Christian ethics, Johnson is concerned about the welfare, suffering and fate of Ukrainians. Compare it with my recent quotable quote: ‘They predicted the end of History after the collapse of the USSR? We wish to speed its return: thunderous, bellicose, and archaic’. In the original piece by Guillaume Faye about the return of History, he proceeds: ‘The twenty-first century will be placed under the double sign of Mars, the god of war, and of Hephaestus, the god who forges swords, the master of technology and the chthonic fires’.

Although we don’t like Putin, Mexico is like Ukraine to the United States and, from this point of view, Mexico isn’t really a free country but a codependent country. The situation with Ukraine and NATO would be like Mexico entering into a formal alliance with Russia or China. It would swiftly produce pretty much the same response from the US as Putin’s war in Ukraine. The MSM has gone hysterical throughout the entire West because they can’t see something so obvious (China and India support Putin’s war and also Iran and Syria).

Cable television—including all Fox News programs excepting Tucker—, and now Facebook and Twitter, are nothing but US state propaganda. In 1999 I was living in Manchester when Russia passively watched as Bill Clinton dismembered and bombed Serbia, a nation under the protection of Russia, while the Anglo-American media, oh hypocrites, sided Clinton and Tony Blair.

But again: as a priest of the same religion of Savitri, I dislike what Putin represents, and perhaps the best way to explain this would be to criticise the American racist who came closest to Kalki’s spirit: William Pierce. In his essay ‘What The Turner Diaries is all about’ Pierce said:

And as I said earlier, it’s not a plan or a blueprint. The details—the bombings and assassinations, the nuclear war and its aftermath—are all fiction. But the struggle for dominance between the two sets of values portrayed in the book is not fiction. That’s real. And it is in this regard that Earl Turner’s Organization is the model for the National Alliance.

Problem is that Earl Turner’s Organisation was revolutionary and the National Alliance is only reactionary. Did Pierce cuck years after he wrote his great novel?

On this site I have been using the metaphor of crossing the psychological Rubicon in the sense of transvaluing all Christian values to pre-Christian values; that is, repudiating the entire Christian history of the West. But the magnet exerted by Christian ethics is such that even the great Pierce took steps back when he was reaching the end of the other shore; for example, by breaking away from an American Nazi Party and forming an organisation of his own (as we saw in instalment 8 of the history of American National Socialism).

But the late Pierce is not a contemporary influence on American racialism. Johnson’s pity for Ukrainians can only be understood as part of the Christian ethical injunctions in secularised form shared by almost all whites today: normies, racialists and neo-Nazis alike. Unlike Pierce’s paragraph above and Johnson’s podcast today, a priest of holy words longs for precisely that nuclear war and its aftermath that would destroy, once and for all, all reminiscence of Gospel ethics among whites.

Only Kalki saves, and it is a splendid irony that I will soon receive the book Savitri was talking about in my other post today, published by Greg Johnson’s press.