Victory Day Parade

A well-executed military parade articulates man’s higher ideals. Russia’s annual Victory Day parades are among the best. These are the final years in which we will see veterans of the Great Patriotic War.

There was an article several years ago about old German and Russian veterans of the Battle of Stalingrad, who walked together on an organized tour of their old battlefield and bonded over their reminiscences. It’s always a sight to see a WWII veteran, of any nationality. The honorable ones, which means most of them, hoped that their contribution helps make a better world for their people. Most were in for a disappointed as the post-war decades unraveled. Those who are still with us can finally see the first rays of sunlight, however black the clouds.

The Eyes-Right tradition in drill & ceremony: when passing by the dignitaries’ stand, the soldiers turn their faces toward those stands, except the right-most flank. They continue looking straight ahead so that the formation doesn’t drift.

U.S. military doctrine emphasizes natural movement and posture. Normal marching stride, head and eyes level. Russians stylize those things with upturned faces and a crisp “goose step” stride. I also noticed that they can march while at Present-Arms (the salute). The American ceremonial hand salute is done, with exceptions, in the standing position of attention.

White nations are roughly divided into the Anglosphere, continental Europe, and Russia, which is reflected in our division into Protestant, Roman Catholic, and Eastern Orthodox branches of Christianity. Watch the Victory Day parade and marvel the miracles we accomplish when we act, individually or collectively, with faith and purpose.


Love In A Time Of Poz

Every man wants the wheat field virgin. They exist. In high school. Teenage boys right now, and even the boys who are still too young to pay attention to girls, know this: you must figure out what you want from life at a very young age.

If you want the kind of woman God intended for you to have, marry your slim, pretty high school girlfriend and start putting buns in her oven right away. Make your parents and hers help you financially and know the sixteen principles.

As to older single men, consider Plumpjack’s words. His long comment at Chateau Heartiste follows:

There’s fantasy and then there’s reality. The fantasy is that a bumper crop of fresh, malleable, submissive HB8-10 virgins with perfect hip:waist ratios and perfectly rounded elbows, is right around the corner, and that every shitlord will have his pick of the bunch to wife up and create an huge family with.

The reality is that the poz, which was specifically designed as a tool of biological and psychological warfare against the goyim, has permeated every last crack and crevice of white societies for at least the past thirty years.

It was a direct attack on one of the backbones of white societies: the virtue of our women. Both men and women have come to see each other as nothing more than fucktoys. This seems to have hurt women more than men, because men have more time on their biological clocks to run down, but on a long enough time scale, we’re all screwed. And not in a good way. But if you find yourself hating all women except nubile virgins, then guess what? It worked.

So here’s the thing: our women have been tainted. Men and women have been pitted against each other. Men hate women for giving themselves away freely, to men who weren’t investing in them. Women hate men because the quality men see them as nothing more than fucktoys, not worth investing in. So we’re stuck in a vicious cycle which, if not broken, will end in us disappearing from this universe. One side is going to have to start the reconciliation.

You have to use your judgement as to whether a woman in her thirties is worthy of being the mother of your kids. There’s a very good chance that she spent her late teens and twenties believing the poz mind poison that she’s an all-powerful fucktoy who can get whatever she wants from the world by manipulating men into doing her bidding, and that she would be forever free from the consequences. Does that make her a bad person? Does that mean she’s not worth investing in? If you can bring her in line and she becomes YOUR woman, can she be seen as redeemed? Only you can make that calculation for yourself.

Another way of looking at this is, imagine if in the past an invading army came and raped all of our women. Every last one. Would you choose to perish, because all your women had been tainted? Or would you work with what you had? My guess is that our ancestors worked with what they had.

Plenty of women screw multiple guys because it’s their only way of finding out who is really Alpha and who is not. Who can deliver the whole package, who’s a fraud. Birth control has given them that “freedom” to shop around. If you want to see it that way. That doesn’t mean they all use that “freedom” to pursue full-on degeneracy. Many of them choose long term relationships, trying to figure out if the guy they chose is worthy of cashing in her hypergamy chips and going all in for a family. How will she know whether he’s the best option if she doesn’t try at least a few different guys? The other option is arranged marriages to a patriarchy-approved Beta. And how well did that work out last time? Legions of sexually-frustrated women were the low hanging fruit that brought down civilization.

TL;DR. Fuck what everyone else says, especially guys on the internet. Pick a woman of good character who makes your dick rock-fucking-hard and then tell her in no uncertain terms that the two of you are creating a family together and that nothing she does will impress you until you see that first healthy kid’s head coming out of her pussy. Then follow through. Every. Step. Of. The. Way.

I guarantee you you will not have a problem with a woman if you approach the whole enterprise with this level of purpose and clarity. This is what they want. The powerful, clear-headed guy who makes them feel valued

You will have to decide what level of imperfection you are willing to accept in your woman. I’d say that at this particular time and place, you’re going to have to be flexible on the fact that she shared her pussy with some other guys, while she was searching for the you, guy who could actually deliver the whole package. The way you can feel better about this is to pick the absolutely finest, highest quality woman you can find. I’m talking, like, ridiculously fine. Then ride her hard, emotionally, physically, psychologically, early on, to see what she’s about. If she doesn’t crack, and you guys are hot for each other, you’ve probably got a good one. just make sure you have a plan to follow through. If she catches even a whiff of you wavering, you’ll lose her.

And, again, fuck what everyone else says. It’s your life.

To The End Of The World With A Friend


You wake up from an intense dream in which a voice spoke: Two more days and it’s just you two. You later talk with your friend, who tells you that he slept badly. The next night you have a dream in which pet dogs, even the friendly breeds, circle you hungrily. A man’s back presses against yours. You don’t see his face but you trust him. Then that same voice tells you: One more day. Everyone dies except you two. The next day is heavy. Bright sun and cool air, just like on the morning of 9/11. It’s just your grogginess, everything else is normal. You feel a yearning to hug the most beloved people in your life. You shrug it off and make it a normal day. Impulsively, you stop at your friend’s house but his wife says that he had slept badly the last two nights so he has turned in early.

You go to bed too.

Light blasts the unconsciousness. It’s only the two of you in the whole world.

You wake up. In due moments, you see bodies. Maybe in your bed and your home, maybe when you step out of the house (this depends on your living arrangement). This is not a dream. You are energetically making telephone calls but no one picks up, except automated systems. You hold the lifeless weight and you are never, ever letting go.

Outside, a small dog is licking the bits of capillary blood from the nose of a man who collapsed on the sidewalk in predawn hours. On the street, a car with a slumped-over driver had drifted into a parked car.

You hear nothing but birds, and they own the air.

The two grey plumes of smoke in the distance are jetliners that had dropped out of the sky.

You make more telephone calls. Everything works but no one picks up. Not anyone here, not anyone in any other countries. The internet works, but there are no new comments, on any site around the world that would have been posted after that predawn hour.

You remember your strange dreams. Everybody in the entire world is dead, except you two. You and who?

“Oh my God, thank you thank you, your’re here!” cries a familiar voice. It’s your friend. You compare your dreams, they were the same. You come to accept that you two are the only two people alive on this whole planet. You are grateful, beyond the human capacity for imagination, that the other’s there.

You and one person of your choice will be the only two people in the world alive. Whom do you pick? It cannot be a family member (blood or in-law), must be of your sex, and the difference in your ages cannot be greater than five years. 

There are many man-alone stories like Robinson Crusoe. There are stories about pockets of survivors after a plague, such as The Stand. Two men? There is Cain and Abel. What now?

First things, you both agree that you want to live and stick together, so you asses your environment. What are your immediate potential threats? It’s flattering to realize that you have always been the planet’s apex-predator. It makes sense now, as you relax. No men, no danger.

You live in a temperate climate. It’s still your country if you call it that and if you remember its history. There are no concerns about wild animals in your area. Dogs, though. Some of the dogs will have been free or broken out at police station kennels. Homes had pets. Some of those dogs are large but most will have been spayed. Accustomed to being cared for, they will be friendly, maybe eager to have you as their new master. But they will also be hungry. Those dogs that break out of their houses will explore the streets.

Over the first few weeks, they will have destroyed all of the small-snouted, short-legged breeds. Some in their hunger will have broken the human-flesh taboo, having nibbled on bodies. They will form packs and they will hunt. You will be easier to take down than a deer. You two will decide if you want to adopt large dogs as your own security, feeding them the plentiful pet food from grocery stores and eventually the deer you kill.

You can live in a castle if you want. Just be wary of physical security systems in banks or former government buildings. You don’t want to get sealed in a room. Get a truck. Plenty of those around. Gasoline has three months of shelf-life, diesel has about a year. Siphon it from other cars or from gas station tanks if pumps don’t work. Engine oil is good for five years.

How long can you run a generator? Do you need one? If you can build a steam engine, you will have power for life.

Can you command a horse?

Load up on batteries because it might be nice to hear music sometimes. You’ll miss it. Simple vocals and melodies though, not the studio pop songs. Those will strike you as absurd after a month of not hearing one. Get some acoustic instruments, teach yourself to play and sing.

Nuclear power plants. You know of ones in your region right? The internet should work for another few days. Look up all locations of those things on your continent, especially if you plan to travel. Safety systems will fail and you don’t want to be down-wind. Then, if you don’t already know, find out the direction of prevailing winds on your landmass.

Grab a paper road atlas from a store. Get guns, bows and arrows, knives, lighters and matches, clothes and boots, first-aid supplies, and canned food. Canned food can be good for up to six years, but you’ll learn to hunt and farm by then. Deer will be everywhere.

With you and your friend out there alone in a new world, chances are you’re just figuring out the do’s and don’ts of survivalism. Common sense will take you far.

Do the two of you want to be mobile or stay in one place? You might well want to travel. Marvel at how fast nature reclaims what was once hers. Travel exposes you to physical risk, but beware staying in one place. Cabin-fever will drive you two to madness.

If you opt to dig in, find a brick-construction house near a river. It should have a water well, be above likely flooding levels, in a climate whose extremes you can tolerate. A perimeter fence and with grounds large enough to farm. The fence will keep carnivorous animals away. Eventually, bears, wolves, and feral dogs will roam freely. Animals can escape from zoo enclosures when electrical fencing fails.

Summers and winters go by.

Do you trust your friend? He can disable you with a shot to the leg and then do whatever he wants. What if what you were told is a lie and there is a living woman. She will stumble out of the fields, in which case one of you two will have to go. What if one day you two come across a constellation of seven virgins. He’s thinking the same when he looks at you at night.

You’d mourn the closest people in your past life. You will probably bury them. Will you? I wonder, how soon do the big questions start hitting you: what is the purpose of doing this or that, when there will never ever again be another human being on this planet. There are no rules. Nobody will judge you. There is no future.

Banish any impulse toward homosexual relations. It will creep up in the absolute absence of the natural scent, sound, sight of a woman to maintain your hormonal equilibrium for the remainder of your lives. Nobody will judge you but that way lies a downward spiral.

You might be alert to signs that your friend is going crazy. But you should also recognize the signs of your own creeping insanity. It’s not always the other party that’s wrong. If you find yourself intensely dwelling on things and anger brewing within you, it’s not him, it’s you. Snap out of it, take stock of your mental condition before he rightfully kills you. Help one other stay healthy.

It’s so quiet by day. Just the breeze trying to tell you something. Throughout the night, it’s symphonies of wildlife, big and small. The song of the nightingale soaring up into the arm of the Milky Way. Anything is allowed. It’s not like you’re watched and judged.


Happiness. What is it? The great, classic Italian pop song “Felicita” by Albano Carrissi and Romina Power sees eye-to-eye with me on the answer to that question. Here is the original version, which I featured in Idle Thoughts On Italian Pop Songs:

No one more than Suburban_elk had me thinking about dancing as essential to healthy movement and social bonding. He recently mused:

The American White form has morphed (over the last 40 thousand years) into step dancing and clogging style stuff.

That’s what we need people to be doing. That goes on at folk festivals in Appalachia or whatever-it’s-called and making a very real comeback Many such cases!

This is a well-done live cover by a boy and girl aged 12 and 13 respectively. Like with drawing, kids’ dancing is natural energy, even if they are just keeping time like those two, not mannered or self-conscious.

This on-stage cover by two teenagers starts with a blooper when the girl discovers that her mic is off, but the couple’s cool heads help them recover literally without missing a beat. Young women rouse our desire when they are wild and hot, but also when they look wounded, like in this case. The girl was shaken for a while, but that made for a charming performance in its own right. At 1:34, her partner touches her in a protective way and that brings back her glow.

I like the young man’s style. Reminds me of me at his age.

(Open thread)

The original song’s lyrics roughly translated from Italian:

Happiness is holding hands and going away together
Happiness is an innocent look in the middle of a crowd
Happiness is staying close like children

Happiness is a downy pillow
The rivers’ water that flows, the rain flowing down the roofs
Happiness is turning off the light so peace can rule

Happiness is a glass of wine and a sandwich
Happiness is leaving a note inside a drawer
Happiness is singing together ‘how much I like you’

You can feel our soaring love song in the air
Like a thought that knows happiness
You can feel in the air a warmer ray of sun
That flows like a smile that knows about happiness

Happiness is a surprise night with a full moon and the radio on
It is a card full of little hearts
Happiness is an unexpected call

Happiness is a beach at night, the waves that hit the shore
Happiness is a hand full of love over the heart
Happiness is waiting for sunrise to do it all over again

[Refrain x3]

White Eagle

Warszawskie dzieci, pójdziemy w bój
(“Warsaw’s children, we go to fight”)


Today is the 74th anniversary of the outbreak of the Warsaw Uprising, which was organized by the Home Army (Armia Krajowa) resistance movement and which lasted from August 1st to October 2nd, 1944.

[UPDATE: This post is about the general Warsaw uprising in 1944, not the Warsaw ghetto uprising of 1943.]

Zero Hour is commemorated at 1700 hrs local time every August 1st with one-minute’s howl of air-raid sirens to mark the start of the insurrection.

There is nothing new under the sun and there already was a Generation Zyklon. No, they didn’t gas anyone, but they fought like warriors to take back their city. And they won — seven decades later, the city belongs to them. There is special lore about the kids who took part in the 1944 Warsaw Uprising. Boys as young as ten fought as riflemen, boys and girls served as nurses’ aides, barricade builders, and couriers who navigated through sewer tunnels.

Between its walls, a constant stream of citizens and freedom fighters made their perilous, just perilous, sprints. They ran across that street, they ran through that street, they ran under that street — all to defend this city. “The far side was several yards away,” recalled one young Polish woman named Greta. That mortality and that life was so important to her. In fact, she said, “The mortally dangerous sector of the street was soaked in the blood. It was the blood of messengers, liaison girls, and couriers.” — President Donald Trump (Warsaw, July 2017)

Through the duration of the war, Home Army (AK) conspirators knew each other only by pseudonyms so that in an event of capture and interrogation, real names wouldn’t be revealed. After the collapse of national defense forces in 1939 in which my grandfather was a lieutenant, he continued his commission in the AK. His gravestone at a veterans’ cemetery shows his rank and pseudonym. He and I talked briefly about the war in January 1997. That was the only time I saw him in my adulthood.

A haunting song by Natalia Sikora, called “White Eagle,” salutes the 11-year-old Wojtek Zaleski (ps. “White Eagle”), who distinguished himself in action in the 1944 Warsaw Uprising.

Orzeł Biały / White Eagle

Na ulicy w powstańczej Warszawie / On the streets of the Warsaw Uprising ’44
Sprzedawano blaszane Orzełki / Little tin eagles were sold
Zanim dziecko Virtuti dostanie / Before a child gets his Virtuti Militari
Niech Orzełkiem na czapce się cieszy / Let him enjoy the eagle on his cap

Nie chciał nikt żeby dzieci walczyły / Nobody wanted the children to fight
Nie chciał nikt by co dnia umierały / Nobody wanted them to die each day
Lecz powstrzymać ich nikt nie miał siły / But nobody could hold them back
Same sobie broń zdobyć umiały / They knew how to get weapons

Ile Orłów sprzedano zbyt tanio? / How many Eagles were sold too cheaply?
Ile Orłów sprzedano zbyt drogo… / How many Eagles were sold too dearly…
Cena prawdą umarłych zostanie… / Only the fallen know the price …
Żywi z bólu rozliczyć się mogą… / The living can settle out their sorrow …

Na powstańczej kronice zostały / The insurgency chronicles show
Zdjęcia chłopca co poległ na Ciepłej / Photos of a boy who fell on Ciepła Street
Jedenaście miał lat Orzeł Biały! / Eleven years old, was White Eagle
A nazywał się Wojtuś Zaleski / His name was Wojtek Zaleski

W Chrobrym dwa każdy Orła doceniał / On 2 Chrobry Street, all hailed the Eagle
Umiał przejść wszystkie linie niemieckie / He knew how to pass all the German lines
Wyprowadził bez strat z okrążenia / He led the “Grześ” group with no losses
Grupę ”Grzesia” – znał drogi bezpieczne / Past the encirclement — he knew the safe routes

[Refrain x2]

Potem poległ i Tygrys i Magik / Then Tiger and Magician [pseudonyms] fell
I tysiące z tych co nie walczyły / And thousands of those who did not fight
Umierały też dzieci Warszawy / Also died the children of Warsaw
Które Matki szaleńczo chroniły / Whom mothers fervently shielded

Orzeł Biały miał grób na Ceglanej / White Eagle had a grave on Ceglana Street
W bramie była Maryi figurka / Virgin Mary watched from the gate
Krzyż Virtuti przyznany zostanie / The Virtuti Cross will be awarded
Wszystkim Dzieciom z Naszego Podwórka / To all of the children from our courtyard

The back-story of Wojtek Zaleski:

Battle trail
Downtown North. The youngest soldier in the assault group of Master Sergeant “Grześ.” He served in the unit from the start of the Uprising and earned the admiration of the older soldiers when on August 2, 1944 he passed through German lines to the area of the heavily guarded Main Railway Station. After three hours of observation, he returned with a report on manpower, weapons and the organization of enemy units. On August 15, taking routes known only to him, he guided his platoon out of encirclement. For this action, his battalion commander Captain “Lech Grzybowski” nominated him for the Cross of Valor.

Place of death
He died in the area of the police barracks on Ciepła Street while carrying a report from MSgt “Grześ.” His body was pulled from the rubble under German fire. That action was immortalized by insurgents’ film crew [See link above for still images under “Zobacz Galerię” – PA]. The field burial of “White Eagle” took place in the courtyard at Ceglana Street 3.


A short tribute to the living veterans of the Uprising:

Police Work

Open-borders activists shriek at policemen tearing down their anti-ICE encampment in Philadelphia: “How do you fucking sleep at night?!”

An appeal to conscience can be a powerful thing. For example, militarized police might well have been kicking in the doors of clandestine homeschooling cells under a Hillary presidency. If such a cop were a working class, conservative, over-forty White man, he’d not feel good about what he’s doing. If you asked him how he sleeps at night, he would avoid your eyes even as he carries out his corrupt masters’ orders. You appeal to his conscience to plant seeds of doubt in the police mission. Good cops who follow bad orders commit suicide.

Richard Spencer said that the Virginia State Police trooper bearing down on him in Charlottesville avoided his eyes as Spencer pleaded (quoted from memory) “Why are you doing this to us?”

Cops are human beings. They don’t want to do evil, even as they do it. Anonymous Conservative wonders if the Cabal is pressuring elements of law enforcement to do things they do not want to do:

Air Marshalls were conducting surveillance on regular citizens who were not on any watch list. This may be a very significant reveal, and indicative of something that will gradually be delved into much deeper. Notice the Marshalls complained. I would assume they were following people who knew they were being followed, and who didn’t like it – and the Marshalls got the feeling both that this was interfering with their mission, and that the people being followed were regular people who should have been left alone. There are a lot of regular Law Enforcement getting roped into stuff they don’t understand, and are not sure they want to be a part of. I have seen a Cop looking me up and down with the most penetrating look of confusion, clearly wondering what my story was and why he was there. At some point, I think ground-level Police will be drawn by the God Emperor into the Awakening, and this might be the start.

“To Serve and Protect,” as goes the ideal, is for the benefit of the legitimate community. Crushing enablers of a massive foreign invasion is perfectly consistent with honorable police work, so appeals to conscience (How do you fucking sleep at night?! howled a potty-mouthed anti-White) miss the point entirely. Maybe the Philadelphia policeman would reply to the anti-ICE protester:

I sleep just fine, communist filth. How do you sleep at night?

The Relevance of Katyn

The Katyń Massacre is depicted from 1:48:20 to the end of this 2007 Andrzej Wajda film:

Wajda was 13 when he lost his father at Katyń. At 86 years old, he said in connection with his film’s premiere: “He was my ideal… he died at the age when I needed him the most.”

The massacre was prompted by NKVD chief Lavrentiy Beria’s proposal, approved by Joseph Stalin and dated March 5, 1940, to execute all captive members of the Polish Officer Corps. Beria, a gamma male in power, meets his end thirteen years later:

Beria and all the other defendants were sentenced to death on 23 December 1953. When the death sentence was passed, Beria pleaded on his knees for mercy before collapsing to the floor and wailing and crying energetically, but to no avail. … He was shot through the forehead by General Pavel Batitsky who had to stuff a rag into Beria’s mouth to silence his bawling. [Infogalactic]

What’s the relevance of the Katyń Massacre? If you are Polish, it’s your history. My grandfather was a lieutenant in Poland’s army in September of 1939, but he was deployed to the western front against the German invasion.

Everyone else ought to understand Katyń as the foreshadowing of the modern catastrophe.

From historian Norman Davies’ God’s Playground, Vol. 2, 1982 ed., pages 451 – 452. I hand-typed the following from his book:

The [15,000 Polish] officers were taken into Soviet detention in September 1939, separated from the rank and file, and sent to three separate camps in western Russia. Most of them were not professional soldiers, but reserve officers mobilized during the German offensive. They were well-trained graduates — teachers, civil servants, businessmen, doctors, scientists. From the Soviet point of view, they were the cream of the class enemy. For eight months, until May 1940, they were able to correspond with their families at home. And then the correspondence suddenly ceased. From that time on, only one man from the 15,000 was ever seen alive again. He was sent for interrogation in Moscow at the time that the original camps were being disbanded.

In April 1943, 4,321 corpses were disinterred by Germans in the Katyń Forest, on the bank of the Dnieper near Smolensk. Most had their hands tied behind their backs, and each had a German bullet in the base of his skull. Many had decipherable documents in their pockets. There is no doubt who they were. The Nazis claimed they had been killed by the Soviets in April 1940. The Soviets claimed that they had been killed by the Nazis in the winter of 1941. This explanation was dropped when someone pointed out that the victims were wearing summer uniform. One International Commission assembled by the Germans supported the German claim; another, assembled by the Soviets, supported the Soviet claim. To people who need final, documented proof, the matter is still open.

That final sentence: notice the present tense. I am citing an edition published in 1982, before the USSR had acknowledged its complicity in the massacre while the West, for reasons of diplomacy, remained officially agnostic on the war crime through the duration of the Cold War. The USSR continued to deny responsibility for the massacres until 1990, when it officially acknowledged and condemned its full role in the atrocity.

Such falsification of history — to include contemporary fake news media — is alive and well today, with stonewalling on anti-White crime and on the realities of the migrant-invasion of the West. Davies continues:

Yet to the satisfaction of most neutral observers, Soviet guilt is established beyond reasonable doubt. The Katyn massacre is the only ‘Nazi War Crime’ on Soviet territory which the Soviets never mention.

What was the purpose of the Katyń massacre? According to Norman Davies, its purpose was decapitation:

The conclusion is unavoidable. At this stage, the USSR was seeking to prevent the resurrection of an independent Poland in any form whatsoever. Stalin was outpacing Hitler in his desire to reduce Poles to the condition of a slave-nation incapable of ruling itself.

Communists have been dumbing-down modern Western education, from Brown vs Board, to deconstructionism, to marginalizing classical literary canon, to Common Core. They wreck boys’ hierarchical organizations like the Boy Scouts with obscene court orders. To get a post-national world order of slaves, you have to liquidate individual nations’ leadership class and if mass-murder is not feasible, you corrupt their traditional institutions.

In “Physical Bravery and Young Age,” I listed three ideals that naturally produce leaders among a nation’s boys and young men. Two of those are always direct targets of Communists:

Mentorship — When you visit a martial arts school or a little league baseball practice and you see non-Whites under instruction of White coaches there, you are witnessing a fatal compromise on a Männerbund structure for mentoring boys in the image of their elders. Diversity disrupts harmony. Blacks have their all-black inner-city boxing gyms. Whites have to price-out the diversity with sports like lacrosse and hockey.

Culture — As T.S. Eliot put it, “Culture may even be described simply as that which makes life worth living.” A living spirit whose great books for boys transmit masculine role models and foster a purposeful sense of identity. Culture is home. That’s why they wreck Boy Scouts and blue collar fraternities such as firefighting and construction work by pushing women and diversity on them.

The Katyń Massacre, along with episodes such as Bela Kun’s brief reign of terror in Hungary, are examples of what Communists do whenever they seize power. Communists haven’t changed, they just discarded the red star and stole the rainbow. Communism, historically led by Jewish intellectuals and sponsored by Jewish elements within the international banking community, is best understood as war on a given peoples’ organic social organization with the goal of enslaving them.

Thank God for Poland surviving the Nazi-Soviet terror, and my grandparents for their sacrifices in securing a future for their nation. Thank God for His watching over Viktor Orban and Donald Trump. Thank God for creating us free men who hang tyrants. That’s why globalists hate and fear us and why they embolden the worst of the human specie against us. The relevance of Katyń is that (((they))) and their father the devil yearn to decapitate us at a faster pace.

Ye are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do. He was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his own: for he is a liar, and the father of it. [John 8:44]

President Trump smoked them out into the open before they were ready.