Writing is not for me

These days I’ve been fantasizing what I would do if I had the means to do it. I would reduce the entries of this blog to a minimum and hire a secretary to continue with the translations of Deschner.

Since as a child I wanted to be a film director, the most natural thing for me would be to have a Crossfire program inspired in that TV program of the 1980s, when Pat Buchanan argued with a liberal and I saw them in my job in Novato, California.

It is natural that the massive hits are on YouTube of the Alt-Lite (for example, Molyneux) and the Alt-Right (Gariépy) more than on websites and blogs. We can imagine the number of hits that a daily crossfire encounter, from Monday to Saturday, would get featuring two of the most radical voices of The West’s Darkest Hour.

In addition to that audiovisual program, I would like to visit all the Western countries that are receiving massive migration. In a white area I would have a picket on the street, ‘I am a Tourist, Speak to me in English’.

I confess that I have the obsession to answer a question that I am unable to answer in this blog. In Europe and North America, Australia and New Zealand, I would interview only Aryan males. After the usual courtesies I would ask the direct question, ‘Do you hate the culture that is exterminating your race?’

Recently in the comments section of this blog a British nationalist declared that it was difficult to hate. As it happened to me when I met the people of the London Forum, all the English people left me perplexed. The most natural thing is hatred when there is an explicit extermination program, to the extent of putting images of mixed couples everywhere in the largest city of Europe. And the nationalists don’t hate? Why…?

Sometimes I wonder if the people I know are not NPCs and I am alone in a virtual world to which I have been punished, a kind of solipsism.

Why white men do not hate with their entire mind, with all their body, with all their soul and all their heart (the reversal of Jesus’ commandments)? Who don’t they see the sin against the Holy Spirit of life everywhere (Aryan women with blacks)?

Let’s put it bluntly: As a mudblood myself I don’t get white people. I do not know what they have in their heads.

If I had power, you know what I would do: you only have to see the central chapter of my book Day of Wrath to find out. But apparently, not even white nationalists hate. They look like NPCs in a virtual game that only torments me.

But as a therapy, if I had the means, I would make that trip to interview as many Aryan men as I could and transmit my elemental hatred (and my state of absolute astonishment and perplexity that my interlocutor did not feel exactly the same).

What are their reasons? A whole race is being exterminated and goes to the streets as if nothing? And why don’t even white nationalists hate like me? It would be great to interview them too, at least the best known.

I do not want to reach a premature conclusion. But my working hypothesis is that they do not hate because the Jew told them not to hate, and the white nationalists obey the Jew, even the atheists. Maybe there is another explanation and that would be the goal of my hundreds of interviews. I wonder if in Germany or Austria it would be illegal to ask this type of question to the Aryans who pass by the street and see my picket ‘I am a Tourist, Speak to me in English’.

On the other side of the Atlantic I cannot imagine what would happen when I interviewed the white nationalists who send money, say, to a Greg Johnson. ‘Do you really believe that Batman’s essays will save the race?’, I would ask. ‘Why, instead of reading Johnson’s webzine, you have not become an idolater of The Turner Diaries, to the extent of spreading the novel everywhere?’, I would ask.

How interesting it would be, in my program, to be able to interview Richard Spencer, who recently expressed himself against the Diaries. I would let him know that throughout Latin America the mestizos and the few remaining Creoles are like little Jews who do not give a damn about the fact that Nordish whites are dying out. (Interestingly, the pure Indians I know do not hate the gringos.) I would ask Spencer why he hates the Diaries when the feeling of unconditional love for the Other is not reciprocal. Non-reciprocity is a phenomenon that can be observed not only in Latin America but also in North America. What would the atheist Spencer say? That we must love them even though they don’t give a damn about white extinction, and many even celebrate it?

I am a creature of pure hatred. I doubt very much that any of the interviewees could dissuade me from my exterminationist ideology. But at least the torment of solipsism, of feeling that they are all NPCs in a virtual game that only torments me, would begin to dissipate throughout the interviews.

Published in: on November 6, 2018 at 11:31 am  Comments (30)  
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Day of Wrath, 21

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

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

—Schopenhauer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Linder quote

Hate is not some useless organ like the appendix. It’s there for a reason.

Why does Christianity do all it can to talk us out of necessary and functional drives?

Well, the answer is that it’s a bit of software meant to disable our enemy recognition module. Christianity preaches blind love, and that love is murdering the West.

Published in: on June 18, 2018 at 9:28 am  Comments (8)  

Siege, 33

On the way into Poland in 1939

…or more accurately, on the way back into the Polish-occupied German territory at the outset of World War Two, Adolf Hitler told his troops, “Close your hearts to pity”.

A strange thing for a Nazi to be telling other Nazis. After all, that is supposed to be a foregone conclusion if we have been taught right. Didn’t Hitler start the war for the pure fun and brutality of it? We know otherwise but there is still a subtle message in what Hitler told his men in 1939. In spite of Polish occupation of German territories since 1918 and in spite of some of the worst outrages done against the German inhabitants by some over-zealous Poles, Hitler knew he had to spell out plainly to his men what the mission was if it was going to be done right.

It is part of the White Man’s makeup to forget, to know pity… it is found in no other race. And this trait has cost us plenty over the centuries because we have let so many enemies get away.

As we all too painfully know, THAT was the prime reason for the loss of World War Two: Hitler was not the bad guy he is made out to be. Had he been, the British Army at Dunkirk would have been annihilated; every Jew in Europe WOULD have been killed; and idealism would not have been so high as to prevent the immediate use of millions of Russians and Ukrainians in the fight against Marxist-Leninism.

But in a lot of respects, those German soldiers crashing their way back into their lost provinces had it a lot easier than we shall in closing our hearts to pity, for when an enemy is shooting at you, the instinct is to shoot back. And in the case of a war between European States, once the issue was settled on the field of honor, life could go on as before… not so at all for the United States in the civil war that is coming up.

One well-known Right Wing leader has already said that we must not neglect to assemble our own “lists” of enemy operatives and sympathizers in our own locales for quick reference later on. His argument—and he is correct—is that you know damned good and well that they certainly have us on their lists, in triplicate! On the surface this isn’t a bad idea but I know how lazy the Movement is.

It is by no means wishful thinking for me to draw you this picture: not many months ago I had regular occasion to screen people in their homes in the line of work. Conversation invariably drifted to the topic of the neighborhood. More than once I found myself standing in windows or yards being given a visual guided tour of where the race-mixers lived. At those times I could visualize myself in the same circumstances only this time in official capacity as a “Revolutionary Clean-Up Man”. And THAT is part of how the civil war is going to shape up.

The real White Americans who are left (and there are many) HATE the very sight of race-mixing even though they scarcely understand the larger, genetic meaning of it. They HATE those of their own race who are involved in it. Don’t you think they’d LOVE to come to us later on, after this existing race-mixing System has been smashed down by revolution, and “finger” every single race-mixer known to them, knowing fast action on our part will follow instantaneously? This sort of renders the need for “lists” unnecessary. As far as the System’s kingpins are concerned, everybody knows who they are. As far as the System Sucks are concerned, we here know ours by heart very well and you can and should be the same in your area.

The truth is that assembling and keeping these so-called “hit lists” for us at this time is a DANGER. Looks bad as hell in case of a raid and it is UNNECESSARY. Actual System bureaucrats will get it during the full-phase course of the revolution as we go about the real business of smashing the power of the System.

The larger “clean-up” phase during and after the civil war, which even then will be raging, is a different matter. As most of you have long ago noticed, a lot of the most rabid, sneering miscegenators are blond, blue-eyed doll babies. If you can’t close your heart to pity, if you couldn’t blast the head off of one or a thousand of these types, then you had better bow out right now.

War is war and it is something highly impersonal. But White renegades, be they government officials or plain bleeding hearts, are another matter. We must swear an oath to ourselves now—while we’re down, while things are tough, while the Enemy is in full power, while the vile race-mixers daily promenade openly in public protected by this evil System, now while it is easy to HATE—that for the United States there will be no need for concentration camps of any kind, for not a single transgressor will survive long enough to make it to that kind of haven.

Vol. IX, #6 – October, 1980

Published in: on May 31, 2018 at 6:50 pm  Comments (11)  

The beginnings

What distinguishes me most from the forums of white nationalists is my ability to hate. It reminds me a little what I said to Jez Turner in one of the podcasts, referring to the nationalists in general, ‘Where’s your fucking hate?’ Turner did not seem to tune in to my emotions and commented that one should not ‘do something silly’, presumably referring to something illegal. But now the decent and law-abiding gentleman is keeping Tommy Robinson company in jail…

I currently barely visit the sites of white nationalists. I would do it again if they were able to feel, at least, some of the hatred I feel. This, for example, is Rudyard Kipling’s poem about the wrath of the awakened Saxon:

Published in: on May 30, 2018 at 9:14 am  Comments (21)  

La Santa Furia

Finally, La Santa Furia, the oratorio-opera of my late father, was premiered this Friday, and also today, at the Palacio de Bellas Artes.

La Santa Furia is a tribute to the Dominican Friar Bartolomé de Las Casas. One of the main prelates of the order of the Dominicans crossed the Atlantic, from Rome, to attend the premiere.

After today’s event, at the private banquet with over fifty select guests, I sat at a table with four Catholic priests who attended the opera. Never in my life had I shared the table with so many priests.

About La Santa Furia I have already written a bit on this blog (see e.g.: here) and will expand my criticism in ¿Me Ayudarás? which will be available the next month. For the moment I would just like to respond to an email that came to me today from a most traditional Christian:

Cesar,

On your blog, you fantasise about burning all Churches to the ground. Did you ever hear Émile Zola’s quote on the issue? ‘Civilisation will not attain to its perfection until the last stone from the last church falls on the last priest’.

Of course, I, as a pre-Conciliar Roman Catholic, disagree with you, here. Do we really want to burn down Saint Peter’s—designed by Freemasons Bernini and Michelangelo? Its Egyptian Obelisk? Domed Roof? Do we really want to burn down Pisa Cathedral and other sublime architectural triumphs?

The Notre Dame in Paris was built by Templars. It has the twin towers, of Joachim and Boaz, representing the balance of hatred and love; black and white. Again, this is architecture that contradicts the ‘love your enemies’ slave morality of the Gospels.

A ‘bonfire of the vanities’ would be welcomed by Biblicists and puritans. The Bible—promoting mediocrity in everything—wants you to pray in your closet/inner room. It’s funny that in the KJV, Jesus Christ tells you to go into the closet! The KJV was translated by homosexuals.

I follow the fundamentalist protestants quite closely, and a lot of them only believe in house churches: worshipping Adonai and Messiah at home. Burning a lot of these crypto-Masonic and crypto-druidic edifices would be to play into their hands.

I agree with you: everything derived from Judaism, in Catholicism, needs to be ruthlessly expunged. In the Marcionite version of the myth of Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, He shows up, miraculously; in Palestine, condemns Jews, calls for their extermination, and then ascends to Heaven. Crucifixion optional.

Unfortunately, the cause of Marcion did not prevail within the Catholic Church.

C.

Playing into the hands of the Protestants? Hardly: In my little Utopia no Protestant would remain alive.

As to the buildings, even before receiving this letter I had thought about the subject. I would respect the cathedrals, although I would order not to repair them throughout the millenary Reich. With time they would collapse by themselves, in an era when there is no longer any Christian on the face of the Earth.

In the case of St. Peter’s Basilica things are very different. The third article of Nietzsche’s Law against Christianity must be fulfilled: ‘The execrable location where Christianity brooded over its basilisk eggs should be razed to the ground and, being the infamous spot on earth, it should be the horror of all posterity…’

At this point it is necessary to confess something to my readers.

Several times I have said on this site that Day of Wrath is just a selection of Hojas Susurrantes and ¿Me Ayudarás? What I have not clarified with enough emphasis is that these last two books are basically autobiographical, where I tell a family tragedy in which Christianity played a central role. From that family drama, the selection I made for Day of Wrath astutely eluded the tragic narrative. The internet is not the place to tell personal tragedies. (Incidentally, La Santa Furia translated into English reads Holy Wrath.)

The only thing I can say here is that I can only be vindicated with the absolute destruction of Christianity and those I call Neanderthals: something that could only happen posthumously, insofar as I do not have the philosopher’s stone.

But vindication is not only mine. The fate of the Aryan race is closely linked, in a negative way, to the religion of our parents.

Of the living men whose name every pro-white has heard, I only have met two of them personally, both in England. One of them, a traditional Catholic, was not long ago, along with other protesters, in the Jewish quarter of London to protest publicly.

I would never do such a thing. For me it is obvious that the white traitor is worse than the Jew, and that we should focus on the cause instead of the symptom. Without White betrayal there would be no Jews in power. This is even inferred from Rome vs. Judea, as well as in my comments on the Kriminalgeschichte translations. To paraphrase Codreanu, there would be no mosquitoes without the swamps of our sins. Superficially, white nationalists focus on mosquitoes. This site focuses on the swamp.

So instead of going to protest a kike neighbourhood, if I did activism I would do a demonstration never done before in the West. I would do picketing outside the Vatican, or the most important churches in Europe and America, with slogans like Nietzsche’s ‘Transvaluation of all values!’ Or Zola’s quoted above: ‘…until the last stone from the last church falls on the last priest!’

No swamps, no mosquitoes. If whites abandoned Christian ethics the JQ would be resolved overnight. In other words: if the tens of thousands of white nationalists were not like Franklin Ryckaert but shared the santa furia of this blog, the non-gentiles would already be trembling.

Obviously I did not say any of these things during today’s meal sitting next to so many priests, including the Dominican who made a special trip from Rome.

I behaved like a saint.

Fuck the British!

How many British men allowed this*
to happen without going full Breivik?

Andrew Anglin

_____________

(*) Child sex abuse gangs could have assaulted
one million youngsters in the UK.

Published in: on December 2, 2017 at 12:01 am  Comments (52)  

Yin empire

According to the vlogger Black Pigeon Speaks, Way of the World is one of the finest channels in YouTube. But neither has revalued his values back to pre-Christian standards. This for example is a statement from the latter to collect donations:

Our movement, the alt-right, is a vibrant and growing one. We are driven by our love for our people and way of life—we do NOT hate anyone else. But we recognise that, if we do nothing to steer away from the multicultural nightmare playing out right now in our towns and cities, Western civilisation is in grave danger.

What is wrong with this statement is that only hate will save the white race from extinction. Forbidding a natural emotion is one of the features of the malware that has infected the Aryan psyche since a Levantine cult took over the Roman Empire.

A few years ago a Catholic priest mocked, before the faithful, the pictures that reproduce Jesus as an extremely androgynous male (“un Jesús bobalicón” were his words in Spanish), as if to say that the good Christian male must be ultra-feminine.

The candour of the Alt-Righters I have seen in YouTube and elsewhere moves me to get rude and ask them: Are you really gonna fuck the kike cunt with that feminine pecker? In addition to the jews there are many other non-whites that want your kind extinct—and you continue to use the Jesus archetype?

Impeachment of Man, 4

by Savitri Devi


 
Excerpted from Chapter IV: Action precedes theory

A man who has always felt an insurmountable, physical disgust for animal slaughter, and to whom the very sight of meat is nauseating, is hardly likely to force himself to become a flesh eater just because the books he was taught to consider as sacred or infallible (be they religious scriptures or “scientific” works) seem to encourage such a diet rather than forbid it, or because the founder of his faith, or the geniuses he reveres the most, obviously ate meat. He may not always have the courage to denounce the man-centered religion or philosophy in which he was educated, on the sole ground that its ethics are not high enough for him (in fact, shockingly below his own natural ethics).

From the point of view of practical behaviour, there are, properly speaking, only two kinds of people: those who really love animals (and plants) and those who do not.

We are, for instance, all acquainted with the belief, shared by many, that animals (and, a fortiori, plants) have “no soul,” or that if they have, their soul is of a nature entirely different from ours, in particular that it is not immortal. We all know that Christianity enjoins us to “love our neighbours,” including our enemies, “as ourselves,” but is completely silent about our duties towards subhuman creatures.

If one is to “love” a man who has murdered one’s parents, committed atrocities upon one’s countrymen, or robbed one of one’s livelihood, then it appears obvious that one should, a fortiori, love the lamb, the kid, the cow, and all innocent irresponsible creatures enough, at least, not to encourage the butcher’s hideous industry; and that one should love harmless frogs and guinea pigs enough to protest against the use of them in scientific experimentation.

Up till today, no creed obviously implying consistent active kindness towards all sentient beings has ever succeeded in imposing itself upon the practical life of any human society.

A great many of the town-bred meat-eaters we know, in Europe at least, are animal- lovers at heart.… although they generally express a sincere horror after reading or hearing a vivid description of a slaughterhouse, yet they do not spontaneously connect all the ghastliness of animal killing with that particular chunk of meat they see before them in a dish with roast potatoes and onions all around it.

They do not automatically picture to themselves, at the sight of it, the agony of a sheep, of a bullock, of a young calf, once enjoying the taste of fresh grass and the light of heaven, then suddenly drawing its last breath in a pool of blood . . . and for what?—for them to have some mutton, beef or veal on their menu. If they did actually imagine that, half of them would shrink in horror, and not only eat no more meat themselves, but also despise all those who refuse to give up that habit as one despises the accomplices in some hideous murder case.

But they do not. The custom of feeding on flesh and the knowledge that “men have always done so from the beginning of the world”—the reaction of daily repeated misdeeds upon one’s true sense of values—have blunted, if not completely obliterated, their power of visualizing at once that which they wish to forget. They are not obsessed by the unavoidable connection between an appetizing roast with potatoes around it and the sickening reality of the death struggle of a slaughtered beast, as we would be. A whole series of associations of ideas has been suppressed in them by an obnoxious “education,” and they have not enough imagination to revive it of their own accord.

The same could be said about all those inconsistent animal lovers who would not refuse the present of a fur coat, nay, who would not hesitate to buy one if they could afford it; who take medicine (preventive and curative) prepared at the cost of the suffering of many guinea pigs and white rats; and who hire a carnage when they are in a hurry (in places where taxis are not available) without making sure that the horse is not tired, sometimes even without paying attention whether the driver beats it or not.

A natural, spontaneous feeling of sympathy for any individual living creature, allied to a sufficiently vivid imagination, is a rare quality. And consequently real animal lovers—not merely those who keep pets, or those who burst into indignation at the thought of one form of cruelty and tolerate or even encourage another—are very few. Real plant lovers who feel for the trees themselves, and not merely for the shade, fruit or flowers they give, are equally rare.

One may also wonder whether any substantial progress has ever been made in that line, from the beginning of historical times. One may even wonder whether organized society has not deliberately worked to destroy such spontaneous brotherly feelings towards beasts as might have existed in some of the better human beings living outside its pale.

The enemy of the hunter (as well as of the butcher, of the scientist who experiments on living creatures, etc.) is an enemy of mankind.

We scorn all men who condemn “wars of aggression,” and who, at the same time, eat meat; nay, we scorn all pacifists who do not, in their everyday dealings, live up to the ideal of universal nonviolence preached by the Jains. We scorn all those, whoever they be, who have never raised their voice against scientific experimentation upon innocent animals (which can be neither for nor against any cause) and who dare condemn experimentation upon one’s dangerous—or potentially dangerous—human enemies.

We scorn all those who never were moved to indignation at the idea of man’s lasting crime against the living Realm;—at the thought of the enormous daily round of avoidable pain inflicted by man upon beasts (and even plants)—and who, yet, dare speak of “war crimes” and of “war criminals.”

We flatly refuse to condemn war,—be it a thousand times a war “of aggression”—as long as mankind at large persists in its callous attitude towards animal (and tree) life. And as long as torture is inflicted by men upon a single living creature, in the name of scientific research, of sport, of luxury or of gluttony, we systematically refuse our support to any campaign exploiting public sympathy for tortured human beings—unless the latter be, of course, such ones as we look upon as our brothers in race and faith, or people near and dear to these.

The world that exalts Pasteur and Pavlov, and countless other tormentors of innocent creatures, in the name of the so-called “interest of mankind,” while branding as “war criminals” men who have not shrunk from acts of violence upon hostile human elements, when such was their duty in the service of higher mankind and in the interest of all life, does not deserve to live.

Published in: on May 11, 2017 at 11:01 am  Comments Off on Impeachment of Man, 4  
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The empire of the yin

The following is the introduction to the sixth part of the forthcoming 2017 edition of The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour.

______ ______

 

Part VI:

Sparta vs. feminized western males

FROM THE EDITOR’S DESK:

The empire of the yin

White nationalists are waking up. But they are cowards: they are not organizing to do anything in a concerted effort. They are still thinking like civilians, not as freedom fighters. As the creator of our fourteen words put it in the following article, “Unless we have an unseen army of total barbarians devoid of pity, of compassion, of compunctions, of restraining moralisms, we are doomed.”

In this section I have chosen the example of virile Sparta, another long text by Evropa Soberana, to shame nationalists a bit with the antithetical example of their pussy ways. Sparta is located at the farthest polarity of Yang that the white race has reached.

Like the rest of whites, the feminized nationalists I have interacted with are still living in the Empire of the yin. Whites have become so emasculated that they are no longer fighting for sex, preferring masturbation or porn instead. The feminization of western males comes hand with hand with feminism: the sinful masculinization of western women. Many white nationalists do not hate feminism, which should be hated with more vehemence than their hatred of the Jews.

After the essay on Sparta I excerpt texts from two disparate sources in still another long article. The first source are excerpts from John Sparks’ Battle of the Sexes in the Animal World (1999). Sparks, who uses very elegant language, studied animal behavior at the Zoological Society of London. After the fundamentals to understand the dialectics of animal yin-Yang I quote from a YouTube blogger, Turd Flinging Monkey whom I refer simply as “the blogger.” He is one of the most radical voices of the MGTOW movement (Men going their own way). The blogger uses profanities and I imitate his style in that section. Underlined words mean keywords for the scientific case against feminism, like dimorphism, gynocentrism, hypergamy, etc.

But first I must reproduce the letter of David Lane and the book on Sparta that I translated from Spanish.