Kriminalgeschichte, 65

Below, an abridged translation from the first volume of Karlheinz Deschner’s Kriminalgeschichte des Christentums (Criminal History of Christianity). For a comprehensive text that explains the absolute need to destroy Judeo-Christianity, see here. In a nutshell, any white person who worships the god of the Jews is, ultimately, ethnosuicidal.

Augustine, the spiritual guide of the Church of the West, was born on November 13, 354 in Thagaste (now Souk-Ahras, Algeria), of petit-bourgeois parents. His mother, Monica, of strict Christian formation, educated her son in Christian thought, although she did not baptise him.

His father, Patricius, a pagan whose wife ‘served as a lord’, ‘became a believer towards the end of his temporary life’ (Augustine); he barely appears in all his work and Augustine only mentions him on the occasion of his death. Agustin had at least one brother, Navigius, and perhaps two sisters. One of them, when she was a widow, ended her life as the superior of a convent of nuns.

As a child, as a curious anecdote, Augustine did not like to study. His training began late, ended soon, and at first was overshadowed by coercion, beatings, useless protests and the laughter of adults for it, even his parents, who harassed him.

Editor’s Note:

This 15th-century painting of Niccolò di Pietro of Augustine taken to school by his mother is very deceptive. Scholars generally agree that Augustine and his family were Berbers, an ethnic group indigenous to North Africa. I find it extremely annoying and surreal how, after Christian takeover, Aryans meekly submitted their worldview to non-Aryans—and more annoying that even white nationalists continue to be blind to these facts!

Yesterday I modified my site previously called Fallen Leaves in order to start adding entries there, in which I rebut what a Mexican theologian said about the Shroud of Turin (which I will eventually translate for my shroud series in WDH). Previously, that site collected entries in English about child abuse, which was my specialty before discovering white nationalism in 2009.

I cannot avoid the idea that the mistreatments that Deschner mentions to the pubescent Augustine influenced his late theology. For example, a good part of my book ¿Me Ayudarás? is an analysis of my father’s misguided defence mechanisms—how he defended himself internally against the bullying at home and at school when he was a child. The point is that, if someone does not process these traumas, as an adult he will try to take revenge on innocents by repeating the abusive behaviour. I am sure that, had my father not been martyred as a child, he would not have launched invectives (‘To the eternal fire…’) as an adult when he spoke in the family.

I have read Augustine’s Confessions and I remember some passages in which he describes how his parents made fun of him while praying to avoid the bullying and beatings at school. I daresay that, had Augustine had an ‘accomplice witness’ as a boy, he would not have rationalised as fiercely as he did the doctrine of hell: where he put even unbaptized infants for eternal torment.

Deschner continues:


At seventeen, the young man went to Carthage, rebuilt under Augustus. A rich bourgeois, Romanian, had supported the father of Augustine, who died at that time, allowing the son to carry out his studies. To tell the truth, he did not do it very hard. ‘What I liked’, admitted in his Confessions, was ‘to love and be loved’. He was seduced by ‘a wild chaos of tumultuous amorous entanglements’, he wandered ‘aimlessly through the streets of Babel’, he wallowed ‘in his mud, the same as in delicious spices and ointments’ while the Bible did not appeal to him either because of its content or its form, which seemed too simple.

Although he went to church, he went there to meet a female friend. And when he prayed, among other things he asked: ‘Give me chastity but not yet ’. He feared, indeed, that God would listen to him and ‘heal me of the disease of the carnal appetite, which I wanted to satiate rather than extirpate’. At eighteen he became a father. A concubine, who lived with him about a decade and a half, gave him a son in 372, Adeodatus (gift of God), who died in 389.

Augustine, whom on the night of Easter on April 25, 387 Ambrose baptised in Milan together with his son and his friend Alypius, was appointed in 391, despite a desperate opposition, presbyter of Hippo: a millennium-old port city, the second largest seaport in Africa. And in 395 Valerius, the old Greek bishop of the city, who spoke bad Latin, names him illegitimately, so Augustine confesses, ‘auxiliary bishop’ (coadjutor) contrary to the provisions of the Council of Nicaea, whose eighth canon prohibits the existence of two bishops in a city.

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‘Only revenge heals the wounded soul’

This is an important comment of mine in the previous thread:


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You won’t believe it but, when I watched this film on the big screen years ago, I really enjoyed the last seconds of this scene:

I was bullied at school, and I recount some of my experiences in my thick autobiographical books. But the real damage did not come from my classmates, but from my parents who used extreme violence to force me into a school system that was totally alien to my soul.

If my life serves as a paradigm of what could have happened to these two kids, you need to keep in mind that only revenge heals the wounded soul—to the point that it becomes even more powerful than your instinct for life.

But I didn’t follow the steps of these two kids. I wanted, instead, to convey the extreme torment at home that drives kids mad.

Nothing of such drama appears in the translated selection from my two books in Day of Wrath. But if you could read Spanish you wouldn’t believe the extremes of hellish environments in apparently healthy and functional homes.

‘Apparently healthy’ families I said but, of course, it’s mere PR for relatives and acquaintances. As far as I know, I am the first person in the whole history of mankind who has written more than 1000 pages trying to explain what happens in one of these families.

Why my books in Spanish are important

Below, my reply to a Gedankenexperiment in a recent thread:

No: I think that without Jews it would be far easier to recover sanity. What the Iberians did in the Americas was not due to self-hatred but to greed (Aztec and Inca gold and silver). Nowadays, if all Jews dropped dead things would calm down and, after a while, the most radical voices on our side would start to be heard.

What in my family happened a long time ago, the axis of my two books in Spanish is eerily similar to the whole Jew-white dynamics that happened since remote times: the thesis of Soberana’s essay on Judea versus Rome. Eve provides the poisoned apple and a naïve male swallows it all! The tragedy of my family occurred after my father swallowed my mother’s claims: malicious slander about her children, believing every hysteric word and tantrum that came out from her viper tongue. Instead of putting her a screeching halt, he found more convenient to start sharing her psychosis, becoming the worse offender, and soul-murderer, among the two…

Believe it or not but my autobiography, the analysis of this folie à deux, sheds a good light on the folie that whites suffer today by believing everything that the Jews said in the New Testament or its secular incarnation, cultural Marxism. Without the influence of my mother, my father became miraculously sane: something that my brother observed—a really weird phenomenon to watch! I am sure that without Jews we would witness the same psychological phenomenon: white sanity.

Of course, of my parents, I despise more my late father, as his focalised psychosis on me was not something inherent in his mind: it was imported from my mother’s deranged mind. He could have chosen to listen to me (‘hojas susurrantes’ is a dream I had decades ago while sleeping about dad listening to me). But he chose Evil instead. In the same way, Louis Beam is right by blaming whites for their passivity, and I would say even behaving like Dobermans of their Semite owners, barking and biting poor whites. The eerie phenomenon of such folie à deux persists today and is something that its whys must be investigated.

The question of white vulnerability before Jewish psyops is something rarely studied in white nationalism. I do believe that Soberana’s essay provides a clue; he’s a sort of Sherlock Holmes in historical matters. Some years ago Hunter Wallace changed his penname to ‘Detective Hunter Wallace’ but as a Lutheran he’s no Holmes at all. Nor is MacDonald a good detective, as he has to appease his Christian audience.

In a sense, I disagree with Louis Beam (was he a Xtian preacher?) and Joseph Walsh regarding white passivity. It is my hunch that a white awakening can only happen if the diagnosis of white decline is complete. We only have half of the diagnosis, what I call the purple-pill. If I could convince nationalists that Christian ethics is the poisoned apple, real progress to a general awakening would start to be made. White nationalists are not making a difference in the real world because they still have to complete the analysis of the poison in the apple.

Published in: on April 26, 2018 at 7:10 pm  Comments (1)  

On myopia and perspectivism

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Below, English translation of what I wrote three years ago in Spanish, taken from the chapter ‘Idiotic defence mechanism I: Religion’, pages 122-29 of the book whose syntax I am correcting (some explanatory brackets added):

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As I said in Hojas Susurrantes, in California I suffered an internal persecutor: a Christian fear of damnation caused by my father’s miserable introjects. On May 24, 1988, a few months after returning from California still carrying in my soul a legion of dementors, I dined with my parents in a restaurant [I wasn’t living with them]. From the street, three days before I had seen the dry branches of my tree and I believed that the tree would die so, in penance, I shaved my beard the next day after having let them grow for a few months; the only time in life I let them grow.
Saint Augustine

Before telling what happened in the restaurant I must mention that throughout my childhood I lived in the shadow of the figure of St Augustine; as I recall, the favourite saint of my father’s church when we lived in San Lorenzo (as we know, Augustine’s ideas had been one of my greatest dementors in California). At dinner with my parents, barely convalescing from the idea that tormented me, I jumped when (my mother?) mentioned the aforementioned saint. I exclaimed that Augustine had rationalised the eternal fire for unbaptized infants… More than convalescing, the psychic wounds of my family’s religion were still open, though not as maddeningly as the suffering in California. My parents felt the vehemence of my words, but not my agony behind them. What my father answered deserves to leave a record and it is worth saying that I wrote it down not in my diary, but in a single sheet. (When planning this volume I had to order my correspondence, documents and loose sheets in dozens of labelled envelopes.) According to my notes, my father answered me:

—Those [Augustine’s views] are people’s mistakes; human failures. I go to what Jesus says.

When I answered that the Gospel of Matthew put Jesus talking about the gnashing of teeth of the damned, he said:

—I do not see [emphasis in his voice] the anathemas of Jesus. I prefer to see the lilies and the birds; come and they will be given food, dressing be added.

On my single sheet, the following day I addressed myself: ‘Where is the Augustinian father of San Lorenzo? I am reacting—my Epistle [first book of Hojas Susurrantes] and anti-Christianity—against a father and a mother who no longer exist!’

I wrote that, as I said, in 1988. Today, twenty-seven years later, the dementors still persecute me somehow, although in a very much attenuated way compared to my youth. What I want to get is that, if the perpetrator does not recognise his fault, the mental virus transferred to the adult child goes out of control. If my father had been like, say, my very Catholic friend Paulina (who almost daily goes to church), another would be my story. It is not enough to point out the beautiful verses of Matthew to counterbalance the threats of Jesus about Gehenna in that same gospel. It is necessary to recognise that one committed an outrage when ‘educating’ the son in the Christian doctrine of damnation. In one of her letters that she sent me to England by the end of the century, Paulina wrote to me: ‘Also, since you are not a believer, and you feel that religion was the first reason for your father to crucify you [my emphasis], you must hate religion. And I understand you. And for you it does not make sense to go to church, to say things you do not believe. And that also caused you harm (hell, torture, sadism)’.

My father is not like my humble friend. In a dream I had my unconscious caricaturing him, putting in his mouth these words: ‘I am very Catholic because I only think of my salvation’. To understand the parental egotism that affected me so much, the religious mechanism with which he defended himself from his early sufferings must be analysed.
God for Miller fans

When I returned from California in my twenty-ninth year, I was not only an extremely damaged young man but also extremely naive. I left in the television room [of my parents’ house] a number of books in English that I had brought in such a way that their covers wore the face of Jesus so that my father could see them. At that time I still believed that it was possible to negotiate my father’s faith with solid arguments.

Let us take into account that with the words of Jesus it sufficed him, and what he would tell me during the ‘confrontation of the crucifix’ [recounted in a previous chapter]: that the fact that the miracles were interwoven with the teachings of Jesus implied that the story was true. I arrived in Mexico in February 1988. By the end of 1989, I began to familiarise myself with the sceptical criticism of the allegations of the paranormal by writers whose magazine I subscribed to, The Skeptical Inquirer. It was thanks to these sceptics that I saw clearly that reasoning like those of my father was fallacious. For example, that the (supposed) goodness of the teachings of Jesus demonstrates the historicity of his miracles cannot be sustained. ‘Logical systems get in trouble’, I paraphrase now from one of the articles in The Skeptical Inquirer, ‘when they are forced to show their own logic to demonstrate its claims self-referentially’.

When on another occasion I confronted my father with what I had read in those books whose covers he saw, I argued that the killing of the innocents could not be historical, as the historian Josephus, who belonged to the Hebrew priestly caste, does not mention it. (This historian of the 1st century did not silence any of Herod’s authentically historical cruelties.) My father got angry, but he did not answer my argument. While it is more reasonable to assume that the verses of Matthew and Luke about the killing of the innocent are literary fiction, by pure reason I would never get to communicate with him. However, the writers of the CSICOP (acronym of Committee for the Skeptical Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal), as this group was then called, had a great limitation. Those who helped me overcome my belief in the miraculous narrative did not reach the core of the problem: the defence mechanism. If my grandfather and the elementary school [in the early 1930s] had not tormented the child Cesar [my father], the adult Cesar would not have clung to the idea of a dad God with the impregnable faith that he did. For Alice Miller, a child whose childhood was lived in an atmosphere of respect is perfectly capable of developing his self without needing the idea of a personal God; preferring, instead, human models. The child destined to be my father could not develop his psyche with worldly models. He had to project the parental luminous side onto the deity of the same religion that his parents had taught him.

About five years before I wrote the Epistle [ca. 1983], my father had confessed something important that I picked up right there in the old epistle. He was in his youth completely devastated by something terrible that had happened to him, that he did not specify. He opened the gospels and, according to his words, saw the passage ‘Come blessed of my father, inherit the kingdom prepared…!’ If, for theists like my father, a kind Father has replaced the failed human father, we should not be surprised if they experience great fear upon discovering that this substitute Father also has a dark side. My father does not know English and he did not read what I brought from the United States, but from my Spanish books he borrowed without me knowing Respuesta a Job (Answer to Job) published in 1952 by Carl Jung, of which he told me ‘I read everything’.

At his late seventy-six years, the Swiss psychologist had dared to uncover the dark side of the God of Hebrews and Christians. The same year that I wrote the Epistle I wrote down in Answer to Job that my father had exclaimed: ‘A terrible book!’ with great emphasis on his voice when pronouncing ‘terrible’. Jung’s essay had disturbed him so much that he had to read a pious text about Job to console himself. What Jung said about the Judeo-Christian deity is valuable to those who have entered the underworld whose door Miller opened. In May of 1991, three years after the anecdote recounted above, I noted down on the back cover of Answer to Job: ‘This is the only book I know of that does not criticise religion or Christians or the church: it criticizes God itself’. I could not say it better today, almost a quarter of a century later. Later that year I noted down that Jung had tried to psychoanalyse God. Much later, in my rereading of 2005, I wrote down:

It is amazing how Miller-like this book can be if we only know the ABC of the mind that Jung did not know. Just replace ‘Yahweh’ with ‘father’ and ‘God’ with ‘mother’ and see what you find.

Read for example pages 25f (‘Who is this that darkens counsel by words without wisdom?’). They remind me of the conversation I had with my sister in 2000, the day of the cut tree, about dad: ‘And who are you to…?’ he said to my sister. And page 28 (‘Yahweh shows Job his omnipotence with so many thunder and lightning’) seems to portray how he treated me in my last confrontation, in 2004 [recounted in my book’s previous chapter]. On page 31 Jung says what for a long time I have said: pride is the other side of infantilism.

Pride is the other side of infantilism. How many times have I told myself this when diagnosing my father! Almost at the beginning of his essay, Jung observes something that could be applied to my initiative to confront my father for what he did, citing the Bible: ‘Job “wanted to reason with God” (Job, 13:3). Job says “I will defend my ways before him” (13, 15)’. Nice phrase, which could summarize what I have written in hundreds of pages: defend my ways before my parents and their witch doctors. Precisely as it was extremely naive of me to hope that whoever destroyed me could, at the same time, listen to my complaint, that same ingenuity had been committed by Job on another level. (Actually, on the same level if we consider that the theistic narrative is nothing but the internal struggle with the parental introjects.) In the context of the supposed goodness of Yahweh, observes Jung: ‘From a man who does us evil we can not wait that helps us at the same time’, and already openly psychoanalysing God he adds something that we could impute to either of my parents: ‘The dependence of the object is absolute when the subject does not possess self-reflection, and, consequently, does not have any vision of oneself’. Like any toxic parent—I would say—, about the deity of our parents Jung writes: ‘But Yahweh is too unconscious to be “moral”. Morality presupposes conscience’.

What better indication that the idea of God is nothing but the projection of our unresolved, attachment system with our parents! (keep in mind Colin Ross’ class). From this angle, the idea of providence is a parental shadow insofar as it is so full of the dark side that we see ourselves in the need to project it outwards: something that Jung himself was afraid to say. Nevertheless, the Swiss dared to write: ‘It was natural that humanity, superior to God in certain aspects, should remain unconscious’—unaware of the ultimate nature of the deity. The dissident disciple of Freud wrote the following in the text that scared dad: ‘Yahweh does not show signs of doubt, repentance or compassion, but only of cruelty and disregard. Yahweh cannot come here with the excuse of unconsciousness, for he flagrantly violates at least three of the commandments that he himself had promulgated at Sinai’.

This brings back to me the fact that my moral was founded on the moralistic tablets of my father. Recall the [1960s] anecdote of Hojas Susurrantes about the ‘instantaneous introject’ when a swarthy boy threw a stone at a helpless crab on the beach. Unfortunately, and parallel to how my father did not regret what he was doing to us, on the next page Jung writes: ‘Yahweh does not think… of giving Job at least some moral compensation’. And two pages ahead what he says seems to be a reflection of the mentioned speech to Germancito [my nephew], when my father blamed me for my sister’s behaviour: ‘Yahweh puts things backwards, so to speak, and blames Job for what he himself does: man must not be allowed to have any opinion about God’.

Shadow projected to the deity: ‘Parents should never be judged’, my mother has told me several times. And it is that ‘Yahweh pays so little attention to the person of Job… that it is not difficult to see that he is totally occupied with himself’, which brings back the penetrating observation of Pedro Martín Moreno and Scott Peck about evil. Later Jung speaks of the ‘fear of Yahweh to become conscious’, which also brings back the fear of parents like mine to see their behaviour.

Yahweh can project, without frowning, his face shadows on man, and remain unconscious at the expense of him…

Job knew Yahweh only of ‘hearsay’. But now he has experienced the reality of Yahweh even more than David himself. This is an important lesson, which should not be forgotten. Job was once a simpleton; he had come to dream of a ‘good’ God… he believed that God was truthful and faithful…

But to his horror, Job has seen that Yahweh is not a man, but that, in a certain way, he is less than a man, and that he is the same thing that Yahweh says of the Leviathan: ‘He is king over all the proud’ (Job, 41:34).

The mistreated son by his father must not expect moral satisfaction from an intrinsically unconscious being. ‘I am an amoral natural power, a purely phenomenal force, that does not see its own back’ writes Jung. Job, the son at the complete mercy of the Father whose voice of thunder crushes him when he dared to confront him, becomes, secretly, judge of the divinity.

The author of Answer to Job closes the book’s chapter with these words: ‘The drama has been consummated for all eternity: the double nature of Yahweh has been revealed, and someone or something has seen and recorded it’.

No sword!

This is a postscript to my two previous entries. Next, the translation of two different passages of the book whose syntax I find myself reviewing:

Remember that [my father] baptised his cantata La Espada [The Sword]. Now that I have buried my mind into the texts of white nationalists, I could not help remembering when I read something that, rephrasing Dominique Venner, Michael O’Meara wrote: ‘The European of history is best seen as a warrior bearing a sword, symbol of his will’, and he added that the Hellenes made their debut in history by refusing to be slaves. Nothing can contrast this old European Aryan with the Shakespearean evasion that has sealed the character of my father. [page 116, a reference to the 1948 Hamlet film epigraph after minute 1:45]

The above quote was taken from a section, ‘Caballero sin espada’ (knight without a sword) in reference to a dream while sleeping that plagued my father’s youth, when he dreamt himself fighting an obscure force without a sword. The following is taken from page 11 of the Introduction:

The objective of my writings, in which I include what I write in my private blog Hojas Eliminadas, would be to show that the evil that afflicts the white man is exactly the same that destroyed my tree and the morals of my beloved family… If I could unravel the evil that destroyed me, I will probably unravel the evil that destroys the white race around the world, including the mass migration of people of colour into the West that I witnessed on my last trip to the United Kingdom. In other words, the evil I saw in my parents, acquaintances, psychiatrists and the evil I see in Westerners who commit ethnic suicide could be, ultimately, two sides of the same coin. There is no qualitative difference between my father’s ‘comfy’ mind and that of millions of Europeans, Americans and Australians. In times of bread for all and all kinds of circuses, the passivity of Westerners [no sword] before the elites ran parallel to the sociopathic passivity of my father before my [disturbed] mother. I confess that, in my [winter] soliloquy to warm my feet and hands, I told myself that those millions of white males were exactly like my father. For decades I had imagined that people outside my family were better, or in other words, less depraved; less destructive or less crazy. The truth is that those who are allowing their beautiful race to die out (note in the image of Missa Hercules[1] that the female above the young Greek is no longer Aryan) are as wicked as my father was. I do not think they are any less bad than the central character of my two volumes. What I could not understand in the Internet forums of those who complain about Aryan decline, we can ponder by reducing a complex problem—the character of millions of Westerners—to a problem that I am able to address: the character of my father. That deserves to venture into a new literary genre.


[1] This is a reference to a previous passage from the Preface where I reproduced this image: something related to the tragedy of the transition from the Classical World to the Christian world. As a teenager, I often listened to the music of this mass by Josquin Des Prés: an LP record that my father very much appreciated.

Of course, in-context the above-translated paragraphs are more comprehensible.

Published in: on March 12, 2018 at 12:20 pm  Comments (16)  
Tags: ,

Very busy

Christians can think of themselves as anti-Jewish without understanding that they are the ultimate conclusion of Judaism. —Nietzsche

Further to what I said in my February entries ‘La Santa Furia’ and ‘Working’. I am now reviewing the 730 pages of my second and last book, in which I analyse my father as the central figure among those who destroyed my life; besides analysing my mother and other victims of them, like my sister and a cousin. My philosophy of the four words appears in the final section.

What I write in my mother tongue is as important, or more important, than what I write in English. But except for a Swede who became disenchanted with me when he learned about my political ideas, nobody in the world has fully appreciated the work in my native language. And it’s striking that someone who processes, over the decades, the pain of the crime that he was the object as a minor is able to see the world so differently that it would seem the mind of an extraterrestrial.

For example, in recent times a certain Ciaran, the same Irishman who complained about destroying the churches (quoted in an entry linked above), has been sending me copies of his correspondence with Alex Linder and others. Although Ciaran confesses to me that he has suffered a mental disorder, he has not paid attention to me in that the only way to heal is to process the pain. (Something I compare with an oil refinery in the sense that crude oil is the unprocessed early traumas that got to be processed.)

Instead, in his letter to Linder today (electronic copy to me), this traditionalist Christian starts talking about the ‘fact’ that the condemned are burning in hell without even knowing who he’s is sending a copy. (At the end of my first book, Hojas Susurrantes, I recount the unspeakable experiences I suffered in San Rafael, California, for having introjected the doctrine of the eternal damnation of my abusive father.) And today, in my previous entry of the Kriminalgeschichte series, another idiot posts again a comment mentioning such doctrine. (Take into account that of this Dutchman I have been deleting several other comments over the years in which he had written stupid things like, ‘hell is eternal’, ‘my religion’, etc.).

Christians or neo-Christians who believe they are helping their race with their twisted minds are, in fact, contributing to the white race dying. The reason for this is not only guessed in the essay ‘Rome vs. Judea’, but in the Kriminalgeschichte series that I translate little by little.

Little by little I say because, although now I am so busy that I will reduce my work on this site to the minimum until I finish the review of my second book, even after I finish I don’t think I’ll continue to translate the Kriminalgeschichte articles daily, as I did in the past. I will translate them, yes, but in a more spaced way. It is not an issue that attracts much attention because white nationalists believe that Jews, not Christians, are the primary cause of Aryan decline.

For an autobiographer who has processed his traumas inflicted at home, it is incredible the level of dissociation and madness that the movement suffers: a movement that presumes to defend the Aryan race and remains addicted to the millennial Jewish drug. And with this I also mean those English Christians who spoke in a podcast about the article by Hunter Wallace that I mentioned at an entry a couple of days ago. Manu Rodríguez wrote:

We are not ourselves; we cannot speak out as long as we try to speak from that space: the Jewish-Christian-Muslim milieu. Within these traditions we are not ourselves, we disappear.

Like Evropa Soberana, Rodríguez is Spanish. I translated the above quote from the language of Cervantes. Isn’t it funny that this pair of Spanish speakers have a better grasp of how to defend their race than the English speakers of the Alt-Right?

Metapedia article on me

Since the last year the German Metapedia started an article about me. I will try to contact the editor as I have changed the title of my final book, Exterminio to ¿Me Ayudarás? which will be available only for a select group of readers by the end of the next month.

(I am awaiting that my late father’s oratorio titled La Santa Furia is premiered on February 23, 2018 in the Palacio de Bellas Artes to add an appendix to ¿Me Ayudarás? before publishing it.)

Published in: on January 14, 2018 at 11:31 am  Leave a Comment  

December 2017 edition

It looks like Amazon has ready Day for Wrath for the general public (click: [removed - see 1st comment]) although I still have to get my proof copy to spot errors, if any, which will arrive to my home next year. Following next is the Introduction to the 2018 edition:

Under the covers of this book I include five translations from chapters of my volumes Hojas Susurrantes and ¿Me Ayudarás? [1] plus a fantastic essay that gave the title to this book. However, I must say that this English selection omits the autobiographical confessions of my two books in Spanish (perhaps for what I will be remembered in the future).

Day of Wrath is the companion of The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour, where I collect the essays of other authors for readers who want to save the white race from extinction. The following is a brief recapitulation of the six texts that appear in this book.

I wrote “Dies Irae” in late 2012. Originally an entry for my blog, this article makes reference to the 14 words. (It may be advisable to become familiar with The Fair Race to contextualize this concept.)

My book Hojas Susurrantes consists of approximately 256,000 words. It is the first volume of my philosophical autobiography. In 2006 I wrote the text I reproduce here, “Unfalsifiability in Psychiatry”: a fraction of the second section within Hojas Susurrantes. In that essay I try to show that the profession called psychiatry does not meet the scientific requirement to distinguish it from pseudo-science.

I finished the fourth section of Hojas Susurrantes in 2008. In the present translation I interpolate brackets in italics and explaining passages for those who have not read my volumes in their original language. The following three texts, “The Trauma Model,” “The Feathered Serpent” and “Psychohistory” are taken from this fourth section. In these chapters I lay the foundations of the trauma model: the paradigm opposed to the pseudoscientific medical model of mental disorders taught at the universities. If the reader is an honest man, after reading this book he will acknowledge that abusive parents have driven their children mad throughout prehistory and recorded history.

¿Me Ayudarás?, the second volume of my autobiography, is a little longer than the previous one. “Dying in a Louis XVI-style bedroom” is taken from the introduction. Like the other chapters it has been adapted for this English translation. This last text is a portrait of my soul that connects with the first essay, “Dies Irae,” day of wrath in Latin.

Mexico City
19 December 2017


[1] Previously titled Extermination in some posts of this site.

Restructuring my being

Restructuring my life

Restructuring my
literary plans

Three weeks ago my only friend was probably killed by another animal. A month ago I had no idea that his death would break my life in two.

Although I have not written anything on the forums of those who have suffered the loss of a pet, I am greatly impressed that some of them confessed, in those forums, identical feelings to mine. I could not believe reading some testimonies: they seemed perfect clones of the agonies of my being…!

The death of Conejito affected me so much that I have abandoned the writing of De san Francisco a Himmler, of which I only wrote half a hundred pages. That was going to be a huge book that would cover, among other subjects, a more detailed denunciation of the family system from my adolescence to my fifties.

By definitively abandoning De san Francisco I find myself writing only a slim book, the tenth of an autobiographical series, which will culminate the other nine that I had written:

Carta a mamá Medusa
Cómo asesinar el alma de tu hijo
Mi infancia
El retorno de Quetzalcóatl
Hojas susurrantes
La muerte de papá
Mi conejito

Instead of the work of years that was going to represent the very ambitious De san Francisco, once I finish the last one from the above list I could begin to translate them, starting with the first. But as the regulars of this blog know, a selection of chapters of those books has already been translated into English: Day of Wrath.

Published in: on April 14, 2017 at 11:00 am  Comments (10)