“I Brought You Up As A Mother!”

That’s what Romania’s first lady Elena Ceauşescu bellowed at members of her country’s security forces as they escorted her and her husband Nicolae to their place of execution.

“Mutti” Merkel should have known that the internet’s power of neutering state propaganda raises the bar on a government’s claim to legitimacy. And that German security forces may well be reviewing the Romanian tapes.

Below is my translation of a troll comment that readers paste under Polish-language articles on the subject of the refugee situation in Germany. I saw it under an article about the Tunisian hijacker that plowed a truck into a Christmas market in Berlin:

From a refugee’s diary: “Finally made it to Berlin. In the morning I picked up my benefits package from our boss Merkel. In the queue, I met up with other soldiers from my ISIS unit. They’re telling me that the EU is now requiring us to declare that all of our terror attacks are financed by EU funds because after all, she is the one who brought us here, and it is she who’s paying us. We’re also buying explosive materials with Merkel’s money, so it’s hard to argue with her.

Oh well, she signs our checks so we do things her way. Besides, Ahmed and Ahmed have already gotten second jobs. One is a drug dealer and the other leads a team that robs German apartments. But there are problems with those apartments: wherever he breaks in, there’s already either a colleague from the unit or another ISIS activist there. Mama Merkel has been resettling most of the Germans so now it’s difficult to find a German’s flat to rob. It’s a heavy kebab to bear… on the other hand, Ahmed has his own problems with his apartment situation. He was expecting to move into a house with a pool, but got an flat instead. Mama Merkel explained that he will get his house, but she must first push through new regulations on the quartering of our brothers from ISIS among the Europeans. Then, the owners themselves will move out and the house will be his. Ah, difficult is our lot.

We went shopping at Lidl in the afternoon. As usual, we entered the store thirty-strong, did some shopping, and left. We’ll come back in two months at the latest, after they renovate it. Maybe even the cashier and the security guard have come out of the hospital? Imagine that — they expected us to pay for our purchases! Us, guests of mama Merkel herself! They won’t be asking us anything the second time around but just to be sure, Ahmed cut off a cashier’s tongue. It was so funny! we have now mastered the German tongue. I even felt a bit bad for her, a cute blonde. Almost as pretty as my habibi. I was going to come back and enrich her again, but they took her to the hospital. Oh, well. 

In the evening as usual, the fellows went out to hunt for a German women. Policewomen are worth double. They’re ugly as sin but it’s already dark and I close my eyes and somehow imagine that I’m doing it with my habibi.

Tomorrow, my buddy Ahmed is flying in from Turkey, and so is his brother Ahmed with little Ahmed. Couldn’t they have flown me in too? I had to deal with taxi rides through half of Europe! But it’s a lot better now. Mama Merkel says that she will send charter flights to any given country in Africa, because dragging oneself to Turkey is also a hassle. But at least their imam in his white jumpsuit washes our feet. It’s nice after all that walking. Ahmed says that we shouldn’t cut his head off when the time comes, just let him continue washing our feet. We’ll see. Thanks to mama Merkel, things are looking bright. Europe is already ours. A.A.!”

As to the scavengers that were brought to Europe as paramilitaries against her native peoples?

The hyenas feast, until the lion tears them to shreds.

Readers’ Shots of Wisdom

Reader responses to my thirty questions in the recent “Why Is The Sky Blue” post. What else needs to be asked?

1. Is there transcendence in intoxication?

Only if you’re already intoxicated by life. — Each Pond Gone

Yes but it’s temporary and it comes at a cost. — Suburban_elk

Depends on the intoxicant, set, and setting — Ripple Earthdevil

No. (I thought last night of the San Fran warehouse rave CO documented with a rollcall of the dead at heartiste, and Hillary’s nuclear war, and it occurred to me they were a sort of holocaust). — Lucius Somesuch

There is definitely “transcendence” in toxic casing… It is called “liberationist theology.” It is ideological self-annihilation. The logical idea to General Entropy, ie., total degeneration. — Thordaddy

No. — Samson J.

No, you just think there is. — peterike

Yes. A drunk mouth speaks a sober mind.Recce Room

2. Is Rock dead?

I’m afraid that it is. I am wondering when all of the liberal white male rockers in the music business start to get upset after realizing record companies/stations don’t want to feature their music any more. — Camlost

In the sense that it’s no longer breathing. But reverberations of that amped mirage will be felt even in ‘classical’ for a long while. — Each Pond Gone

… as far the musical genre, yeah pretty much. — Suburban_elk

Hardly — Ripple Earthdevil

Yes. (though Noel Gallagher could still accomplish something of merit). — Lucius Somesuch

It’s not dead, but it’s in an old-folks’ home where the kids regard it as cute. — Samson J.

No. Go to YouTube and type in “wussy” — peterike

Sadly, yes. — Recce Room 

Obviously — Nozdryov

3. What is your purpose in life?

Actuate genuine white Supremacy. — Thordaddy

My cause in life is preventing baby boys from having their genitals altered in the ritual of circumcision. […] At its heart, circumcision diminishes sexual intimacy and pair bonding. — Suburban_elk

To do the best for my family, and use my gifts for the world’s good. — Samson J.

Paying for my children then dying. — peterike

To crush my enemies. To see them driven before me. And to hear the lamentations of their women. — Recce Room

4. Was the 1944 Warsaw Uprising a mistake or a sacrifice with long-term recompense?

Alan Clark’s “Barbarossa: The Russian-German Conflict, 1941-1945” deals at length with the Polish Uprising. He notes: “One of the Poles has described how from the tallest building, when the smoke cleared, they could see German and Russian soldiers bathing on opposite sides of the Vistula River in apparent amity, or as if in tacit acceptance of a truce which was to last while Polish gallantry was extinguished.” (p 392) — Lucius Somesuch

Sacrifice. — peterike

It was needed. — Recce Room

I originally read this as the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. Given how Jewish-centric current tellings of history are, that was just a reflex and I thought, “no – it wasn’t a mistake and I would have wanted to die at a high price also.” Considering the Warsaw Uprising, I’m of a different mind. Better to have waited for the Germans and Russians to have fought it out and then made desperate fight for freedom from the Russians. Hopefully the Poles have now permanently absorbed the lesson that Russians will always try to screw them. I’d defer to you here, PA. — DN Poolside

5. Why am I not a liberal?

Because I understand history. — Camlost

Because I cannot legitimate the desire for self-annihilation EVEN under the “truth” of “infinite regress” and General Entropy. — Thordaddy

Because liberalism violates the laws of nature. — peterike

Because I think. — Recce Room

Because a liberal cannot exist — Nozdryov

Low disgust threshold — PA

6. Can one step into the same river twice?

This is the “glitch”
In the “make tricks”
A sign of systemic redundancy
Infinite regress
And the reality of dummies
Yet it is that itch
A twitch
That switch
An unconsciousness
Into conscious fits
A recognition of a singularity
A neo not see bits…
— Thordaddy

Yes, just like absolutely (per Bart Simpson) there is a sound of one hand clapping. — Samson J.

Yes, of course you can. That comment is just intellectual dissembling. Are we sure Heraclitus wasn’t Jewish? It’s a very Talmudic, lawyer statement that may be true to the letter, but utterly wrong to the spirit. Believe me, I swam in the SAME DAMN RIVER many, many times as a kid. — peterike

No. — Recce Room

What peterike said. — PA

7. How did my 18th century paternal great(xN)-grandfather look and what would we talk about if we met?

One of my favourite questions, since I am fascinated by genealogy. Alas since I’ve thought about it so much, the answer is too long for here. — Samson J.

He looked like me. We’d talk about the Holy Roman Empire and how it related to the Kingdom of Bavaria. — peterike

Looked a lot like me, but shorter. We would talk about why men aren’t men anymore. — Recce Room

Definitely shorter. But more broadly and deeply educated. We would talk about the prospects of the colonies — Nozdryov

8. What is the most beautiful thing today?

The fact that in spite of everything, I can still see beauty in my wife, my kids, the woods… — Samson J.

The certainty that we are in the midst of a vast and redemptive historical shift. History isn’t quite rhyming or repeating, but humidifying into a rare climax. — Each Pond Gone

Silence — peterike

Waking up to another glorious day. — Recce Room

Racial purity — PA

9. What happened to all of the masculine Leftists?

They became Bernie Bros and they are in serious disarray and panicked confusion right now. –– Camlost

They’re wearing bandanas over their faces and vandalizing Oakland, Portland OR, and other places. — Ripple Earthdevil

They never existed… They were an illusion of the nascent Mess Madia. — Thordaddy

Good question; I wonder that myself. — Samson J.

Nothing. They still rule most of the Left. They have simply cultivated an army of preening girl-men. — peterike

There never were any. There cannot be. — Recce Room

They were purged — Nozdryov

Give Pajama Boy real power and he becomes Che Guevara — PA

10. What is the prettiest female name?

Melissa — Ripple Earthdevil

My daughter’s, Adeline. (French p. Ad’leene) — Chase

Lily White. — Thordaddy

I like the name Leigh. — Lara

Adeline is a good choice. I am also partial to Maria, Michelle, Nicole, Francesca, Sarah, Natalie, Isabelle, Gabriella, Paulina, Julia, Sophia, and Keira. And others in that general vein, — Lothar of the Hill People

Agree also on “Melissa” as a beautiful name though I hadn’t thought of it until I saw it above. Means bee in Greek, and for real pedantry, it’s accented on the first syllable. And is also a great but sad song from about the same time as Box of Rain. — Marc

Elizabeth (my daughter’s name). — Samson J.

I don’t know, but probably something Gaelic like Aelwen. — peterike

One that doesn’t have a man’s name imbedded. — Recce Room

Your mother’s — Nozdryov

11. What would an AltRighter’s public response be if he were for some reason victimized by nationalists?

“Does he hate my white socialism?” — Thordaddy

I forgive them. They are on the right path even though we disagreed about X. — peterike

Sure as hell wouldn’t be whining. — Recce Room

What Recce Room said. — PA

12. What is the most elusive thing?

A river of inspiration that can’t ‘step into the same you’ twice. — Each Pond Gone

(P)erfection… By free-willed choice. — Thordaddy

A satisfying resolution to the tension between wanting sinful things and knowing they’re wrong. — Samson J.

Personal peace — peterike

Decency. — Recce Room

13. Do Islam and Mormonism have anything in common?

Yes. Fan fiction! — Lucius Somesuch

Desire for radical sexual autonomy. — Thordaddy

Quite a lot; too much to go into. For one thing I think they’re both attractive and both contain a lot of truth. — Samson J.

Yes. They are both extremely attractive to male cucks. — peterike

About half. — Recce Room

14. Is it wrong to have so few regrets?

Nope. I have very few, and couldn’t be happier about it. I’m intrigued to know why it *would* be wrong. — Samson J.

No. — peterike

No– Recce Room

15. Does haste ever not make waste?

Often — peterike

No. — Recce Room

16. What is white Supremacy — or White supremacy?

The former is properly ordered while the latter is dysfunctionally ordered. The former is a voluntary collective of white men who believe in and therefore strive towards OBJECTIVE (S)upremacy, i.e., (P)erfection. The latter is an ambiguous collective of “whites” either (a) given to all-out degeneracy or (b) partial to some all-white ethno-socialist State. — Thordaddy

white Supremacy = understanding WHY whites are the supreme race
White supremacy = knowing you are white — peterike

It’s what its name suggests. — Recce Room

Ws: G. Vasari; contemporary Bösendorfers; limited exhibitions; release doves; sheer invention
wS: Albrecht Dürer; 1929 Mason & Hamlin CC; private circulation; swans; Unalloyed Creation — Each Pond Gone

17. Is art more perfect when true to life?

Not so true that it records the frequency of one’s bowel movements. — Lucius Somesuch

Yes. Representational art is categorically superior to non-representational, though non-r can still be done well. — peterike

No. — Recce Room

18. Are Mulattoes tragic?

Evidence here at this blog suggests that they are.🙂 — Camlost

The Dominican Republic next year. — Lucius Somesuch

Only within the worldy Epic… Metaphysically, they are dawged by (P)erfection and self-annihilation just the same. — Thordaddy

Yes. — Samson J.

Yes, invariably. — peterike

No. — Recce Room

Always — Nozdryov

19. Which popular song contains the most wisdom?

T-ara’s “Bo Peep Bo Peep” — Lucius Somesuch

Hell by the Squirrel Nut Zippers — stevetirone

Grateful Dead: Box of Rain — Each Pond Gone

As I hit No. 19, I immediately thought “Box of Rain,” and how no one here – for perfectly good reasons – could possibly “get” that. Surprised but pleased to find EPG agrees. — Marc

Popular song from recently? I wouldn’t know. I’m partial to a lot of Axl Rose’s wisdom (“the only validation is in living your own life; vicarious existence is a fucking waste of time”) — Samson J.

The Mountain Goats, “Isaiah 45-23” — peterike

Only the good die young. — Recce Room

Beethoven’s Ninth — Nozdryov

“Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down” – Kris Kristofferson/Johnny Cash — Lothar of the Hill People

Lynyrd Skynyrd “Simple Man.” Echo: Drive-By Truckers “Outfit”  — PA

20. Will it be peaceful or bloody?

It shall be bloody peaceful and peacefully bloody… Per the assassin’s creed. — Thordaddy

More peaceful than otherwise, I expect. — Samson J.

Bloody, but not for a long while yet. — peterike

Depends on whether it’s worth it. — Recce Room

21. Is there a foreign agent behind the racial cuckoldry?

Helena Blavatsky. This governess of globalism did some real damage. — Each Pond Gone

Yes… But at the level of individual affliction said “foreign agent” is merely memetic mau-mauing of a dull (white) mass by an all-pervasive Mess Madia and at the particular point of “foreign agent” of “racial cuckoldry” is the radical autonomist (a dispiritedly deracinated, de facto homo, jew-nigger idolater) actuating this global infection. The convergence of this across-class-divide is the self-annihilating ideology of anti-white Supremacy. — Thordaddy

Of course. Jews. Full stop. — peterike

Of course. — Recce Room

22. What is friendship?

Friendship includes a sense of satisfaction and enjoyment in spending time together, in conjunction with genuine concern for the other’s welfare. — Samson J.

A confluence of interests and proclivities. — peterike

Wanting to be around someone of the same gender for non-reproductive reasons. — Recce Room

23. “Grandpa, what did you do during White Genocide?”

I raised yer mum, gave money where I could, and refused to believe in evil. — Samson J.

Nothing — peterike

Read the stories they wrote. — Recce Room

The reverse Alinsky — Nozdryov

“Not Enough.” — Each Pond Gone

24. Have you ever journeyed into the Underworld and if so, what did you keep?

Yes; fair deal of stolen objets d’art, some unhinged memories and a couple emblematic scars. — Each Pond Gone

No, I havent. — Samson J.

Yes. My soul, barely. — peterike

My mind. — Recce Room

Yes, I traveled to the Underworld once. I lost a piece of my soul there, but gained some wisdom (which was not worth the fee, alas). I was also given a mission by God as part of my penance for journeying there, in the same vein as the ancient mariner was given a task after slaying the albatross. — Samson J.

Thinking I’m climbing Olympus, I was in fact descending to the underworld. Kept one part pride, two parts regret. — PA

25. What can a quadriplegic man do to live his best?

Preach faith in The Perfect Man and speak a disrepute for the annihilation of the self. — Thordaddy

Perhaps more than one thinks. — Samson J.

This is too awful to contemplate. Pass. — peterike

Same as a regular man: don’t whine about it, do something. — Recce Room

26. Can a mudshark find redemption?

Modern antibiotics can accomplish quite a bit, but I still don’t want you back. — Camlost

Can a mudshark find redemption? It is a question in need of attention less the jaws of a lot of mulatto cynicism bite white privilege with one thousand indecisions. Swirled ice cream melts with an oil-slicked crystal blue ocean the shark-infested vision. Predators require white men with killer metaphors to imagine horrors that -ish fins off the swimming carnivores. Pedo-paddling underwater cannibalists rolling near the baby white boys on shore. Let’s create doors on sand floors that mudsharks can freestyle towards. A mudshark has to want redemption as her forward. — Thordaddy

Maybe, but I can’t think how. — Samson J.

Not really. — peterike

No. — Recce Room

Regarding 26, a mudshark who bears a child can never find redemption. A mudshark can also never find redemption in her fathers eyes, and she and her mother should know it. A mudshark can find redemption in society. Young girls make mistakes and betas need wives too, if the lesson has truly been learned. — DN Poolside

This short piece of fiction suggests that she doesn’t even want it. — PA

27. Have you ever scaled Olympus and if so, what did you keep?

No. I gaze at it from afar, knowing I will never get there. — peterike

My mind. — Recce Room

Thinking I’m descending to the underworld, I was in fact scaling Olympus. Kept two parts pride, one part regret. — PA

28. Should I be afraid of death?

Only if actual life amounts to a waking death — Each Pond Gone

If you desire total annihilation or a “conscious” oblivion then “no,” but if those things give you the heebeejeebees then “yes.” Yet, there is a synthesis that allows one to feel the distraught anxiety of a postmortem abyss and still be at ease with a final physical death. It is called…

Heaven with your Father. — Thordaddy

No. — peterike

Only if you are afraid of life. — Recce Room

No — Nozdryov

29. How do we value something without it first having to be gone?

Don’t be a fucking idiot. Think ahead. — peterike

We cannot. — Recce Room

Cunningly bolster/promote ‘it’ to a select group of state museums, and let it fly accordingly… — Each Pond Gone

30. What do you want?

To save all my children’s souls. Anything less is a personal damnation. — Thordaddy

Paradise for myself and my family. — Samson J.

Peace of mind. — peterike

Life. Liberty. Pursuit of happiness. — Recce Room

General answer:

Many questions, but one answer: White Supremacy.
It can make things very simple, if applied properly.
— Ryu


Open thread.


Shots of Wisdom, Part 6

200 Proof. This Red Pill will burn through your tongue. Here is something else that separates the northern man from the aboriginal — the Line Test. Visualize an imaginary line connecting the tip of the person’s nose to the tip of his chin. If his lips break the line, he has an aboriginal profile. But if his lower lip barely touches the line or is behind it, he has a northern profile. I noticed this while celebrating diversity in New York.

Assimilation. “I’m fine with mass immigration as long as they assimilate.” “No. To assimilate means that they either have to become our slaves or be free to marry our daughters. Neither is acceptable. They must go home.”

Capital. If a student behind the Iron Curtain demonstrated talent for the cello, he was evaluated for the depth of his ability and extensively trained to be a world-class cellist. A Western student with the same talent would likely pursue a more practical course of education. One of the tragedies that accompanied the fall of Eastern Bloc was that the entire state infrastructure that channeled talented people toward their careers disappeared overnight, with one-time symphony violinists now playing for tips at Berlin train stations. The three decades of unipolar world order have laid waste of human capital on both sides of the former divide.

Charity. ‘Tis the season for corporate charity drives. But do people who perform charitable work ever ask themselves “where does my work lead?” Many Christians, as well as members of secular foundations, volunteer in Africa and it’s reasonable to appreciate the value of their work where their charity alleviates individual suffering. An example of that would be plastic surgeons traveling overseas to repair children’s cleft palates. The beneficiary of pro-bono work in this instance is a single individual. The operation makes a permanent improvement in the life of that patient with no effect on the relative well-being of others and with no impact on the larger social ecosystem. But on the other hand, if charitable work such as the delivery of improved health services, sanitation, nutrition does impact the larger social ecosystem — then “what is the meaning of what I’m doing” ought to light up in the mind of the humanitarian.

Your charity might temporarily ease individual suffering but then cause the alleviated misery to boomerang back million-fold in the form of Africans populations growing beyond their land’s carrying capacity. Consequently, your beneficiaries will require ever more of your charity, and with zero probability of improvement over the long-term but with high probability of becoming a devastating burden on non-Africans, whose lands they’ll seek to swarm. Before you donate, you probably ought to put aside your moral vanity and ask yourself: “when meddling in complex ecosystems presumably as a servant of Christ, am I in fact serving His adversary?”

Hierarchy. Sailors had a saying that a woman on a ship is bad luck. When male structures fail, the Alphas become despotic before they become targets, the Betas split into warring factions, and the Deltas disengage and either morph into facsimile Sigmas or they heat up into Gamma. Sensing chaos, the Omegas buzz about, whispering “cheap wetwork.”

Hillary. If she had won: Alt-Righters are jailed, millions of migrants are brought in, and World War III starts. The kid-fucker globalists needed a bit more than eight years to consolidate their power; Hillary’s first term would have delivered the finishing move. But they never saw Trump coming.

Hipsters. Rootless young Westerners grow beards and appreciate words that connote a working class vitality, a poignant grasping at air for their severed roots. ArtisanalGritty, Authentic.

Liberation. Life went on as usual for most of the women in the wake of the collapse of the Soviet Bloc states. They went to school or worked normal jobs, married normal men. But some of the girls had ambitions and they flocked to modelling agencies and scouting events, or to hostess and greeter jobs abroad to be noticed, and many were noticed. A number of them ended up in brothels.

Loneliness. Liberals have been let down by Blacks and other minorities in the 2016 US presidential election. Furthermore, White women came through for their men, voting for Trump at 53%. A realization is dawning on liberals: they were abandoned by their allies and healthy White men despise them.

Opposite Numbers. If zero represents perfect indifference toward something, then hate can be quantified as a negative value and love as a positive value on opposite sides of the zero. In other words, a man’s feelings toward something he values are in the right balance if the absolute values of his love and hate are equal. If you love something at value +n, then your hate for anyone who’d harm that which you love should be -n. Love that’s not backed by an equal value of guardian-hate is sentimentality. Hate with an insufficient chaser of love will eat through your soft tissue like acid.

Recruitment. Any organization that fails to attract Alpha males dooms itself to irrelevance because a group can be successful only under visionary leadership. Not all White men are visionary leaders but in 99% of instances, that quality comes from us. I came across a recruitment poster for a professional association, which featured a multicultural assortment of faces and not one White man. In my contrarian interpretation, I saw a counter-intuitive subtext: “White Alphas, please step in! Look at the cute girls and colonial sidekicks you’d have under you!”

Solipsism. If someone’s inner life as such were interesting, a girl’s musings would distract us from her moving lips. The only two things worth the audience’s time are lucid thoughts about things outside of the speaker’s psyche, or the deeds he’s done or is doing.

Stewardship. There is a larger meaning in Elton John’s Empty Garden, his song about the assassination of John Lennon: “He must have been a gardener that cared a lot / Who weeded out the tears and grew a good crop.” The lyrics continue: “It’s funny how one insect can damage so much grain.” And they ask why insects get exterminated…

Vivisection. The 1990s in Eastern Europe evoked an image of organ-thief’s table. The ascendance of globalism made for an Escher staircase-like hierarchy of the conquered. The East was looted of goods and youth but kept its racial hygiene; the West stayed rich but was blitzed with immigration and emasculated with political correctness. Soon, the backlash and the settling of scores.


The fifth installment of this series anticipated the ascendance of President Trump.

Shots of Wisdom, Part 7 is about fatherhood.

Great Books For Boys

The greatest books for boys are foundational texts. Greek mythology gives insight into human nature and valorizes masculine virtues. There are now Minecraft comic book editions of the Old and the New Testament. And a boy has to learn his national history and heroic myths.

For adventure, you can’t go wrong with the American classics, from Mark Twain to Jack London. I first read Huckleberry Finn at the age of eight in translation and White Fang afterwards.

At the library or a used book store, look for books that were printed more than a few decades ago. You can’t appreciate how politically “corrected” children’s books have become until you compare them with something that’s fifty-plus years old. Furthermore, the poz is more blatant with hot-off-the-press publications, where they will go as far as sneaking in overt homosexuality. Ask me in the comments if you want to know of one example. The obligatory diversity ruins every story and you will never see a recently published book with an illustration of a White boy and girl next to each other. Liberals really do want to destroy your son and daughter.

The one qualitative difference between great books for men rather than for boys, is women. A young boy’s psycho-social development is focused on his becoming a man in relation to other boys, therefore a great book for boys might omit any reference to women entirely as superfluous and distracting. War and adventure stories, for example. Or coming-of-age friendship tales such as Stephen King’s short story The Body, better known by its film version Stand by Me — no girls allowed.

If women appear in a boy’s book, they should be fixed characters like a mom or a teacher; if an authority figure, she ought to be comic relief. When a story features a girl as a developed character, the boy’s attitude to her should be rendered as one of amused and occasionally annoyed mastery, though despite it all, instinctively protective — like with a sister. Nuanced and complex portrayals of women are for adult readers.

Here are several books I recommend for boys, some of which might not be familiar to Anglosphere readers. Plot summaries include spoilers.

Roald Dahl, Short Stories. Dahl was a Welsh novelist (1930 – 1990) whose prose carries echoes of Dr. Seuss — similar touches of surrealism, as well as its own wry looseness in language. Representative short stories:

  • George’s Marvellous Medicine — Can’t stand bossy (and smelly!) old hags? This tale has the antidote: our hero concocts a potion to make his witchy grandmother nicer and hilarity ensues.
  • The Filling Station — An account of growing up with one’s widowed father in a trailer behind dad’s auto-service garage. A big meadow, a bunk bed, a wood stove in the winter, and greasy clothes from helping dad in the shop. What more could a boy want?

Beowulf. Specifically, the version authored by Michael Morpurgo. The narrative emphasizes loyalty to friends and benefactors, courage, honesty. Cowardice and abandonment of kinsmen are singled out for scathing treatment.

Karl May, The Winnetou Trilogy. Written by German author Karl May in 1893 and set on the American frontier, the trilogy follows a greenhorn’s development into the famed Old Shatterhand and his ultimately tragic friendship with the Apache warrior Winnetou. Loved it as a ten-year-old. I’m not otherwise familiar with the genre; any other old-school great Westerns for boys out there?

Henryk Sienkiewicz, In the Desert and the Wilderness. The novel was written in 1911 and it describes the adventures of two children of the British Empire’s emissaries, Stan and Nell, following their abduction by Sudanese rebels. Travelling with their kidnappers, they encounter a lion and the Arabs agree to hand the rifle to Stan, knowing that he is the only one with the skill take down the animal. Understanding the weight of his responsibility, Stan kills the lion and then slays all of his captors.

At the completion of their journey through Africa in search of a British garrison, he and Nell are reunited with their families and Stan’s father gives him a memorable lecture on killing:

Listen, Stan, don’t deal in death lightly, but if someone threatens your homeland, the life of your mother, sister or the life of a woman placed in your care, put a bullet in his head with no questions asked and don’t burden yourself with any remorse.

Ferenc Molnar, The Paul Street Boys. The plot centers on the battles between two gangs of boys over a vacant lot in Budapest. Janos Boka is the leader of the protagonist group. Ernest Nemecsek, the book’s main character, is the smallest and weakest of the boys but arguably the bravest. Due to a misunderstanding he is demerited by his gang, a dishonor he takes very seriously. To redeem himself, he wades through a pond on a cold day to spy on the enemy gang and catches pneumonia.

Despite his illness on the day of the decisive battle, Nemecsek runs away from home and fights, contributing to victory. He collapses after the battle and Boka carries him home, where he dies while his father is unable to break away from a fussing customer. Once back outside, Boka runs into the leader of the opposing gang, who says that he came to see how Nemecsek is doing. The 1906 novel foreshadows the incipient Great Brother Wars.

Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin. Written in the 1950s by the Belgian cartoonist, this series of comic books follows the eponymous young reporter and his wacky cast of supporting characters on their exploits around the world. You’ll enjoy entertainingly frank racial stereotypes, yet Tintin finds a way of making friends with good people everywhere. The physical and verbal comedy is guaranteed to have both the kid and the adult splitting their sides with laughter.


The Lowest of Gutter Trash

Today, that would be a divorced or single mother of White children who ruts outside of her own race, specifically with Blacks, and brings those men into her own kids’ lives.

I occasionally see this. The other day I’m at a family crafts activity and I see a Black fellow — he was quiet and out of place in that crowd — and a White boy of about seven with him. Unlike the other boys there with their fathers (and sometimes with their mothers), the boy looked hauntingly miserable.

Sexually degenerate people have cavalier attitudes toward endangering their own children. A stepfather — a passing-through boyfriend even more so — of any race can be indifferent and sometimes hostile to his girlfriend’s kids. But when you compound the presence of an interloper-male in a child’s life with the element of racial hostility, you expose the child to the risk of psychological trauma, or worse.

A social order that sacrifices its young is illegitimate. A year ago in a post on raising one’s daughter to not become a mudshark, I described liberal America as a child-destroying Moloch. But then again as far as child welfare is concerned, the secrets of late-decadent establishment might well soon be vomited up. In acts of apparent collusion between the media and the government, major newspapers are scrubbing their recent articles on the mass arrests of international pedophile rings.


As liberalism ebbs, nationalism grows, political correctness crumbles, and men’s territorial instincts are awakened, society’s indulgent attitude toward interracial libertinism is not long for this world. As we’ve seen mixing play out over the era of peak-multiculturalism, it is not a mere matter of free association. It is not just a case of private consenting choice. What it is, is a corruption of our society by shorting out one of its key stabilizing mechanisms: a woman’s accountability for her discivic sexual behavior.

White men have a low sexual disgust threshold relative to others — physical, moral. Those of us with options are also not keen on rewarding dumpy divorcees with commitment, however fleeting. So in a work-around on our social checks and balances, those low-value women avail themselves of less-choosy men of another race.

All mudsharks are lost and as I once wrote, each in her own way feels the sting of internal exile from White community. But once that walking sac of transcontinental telegony exposes her own White child to the sewer-end of tribal contention, she becomes an unfit mother and a child abuser in every way but in (presently) codified law.

The female who makes her abasement not only her own personal problem, and not merely society’s problem in the abstract — but also makes her selfishness a vehicle of her very own children’s physical endangerment and psychological abuse — is the lowest of gutter trash.

The child’s father, possibly someone who lost the kids in a divorce, has every moral authority to act on his protective instincts and remove his children from the danger that their mother is putting them in. As for the rest of us, it is our duty to expel that category of irresponsible mother from White comfort. As long as she comes around, freeze her out. Don’t let her forget what she is.

Anti-Christmas Messages

Christmas is a moment in the year when we put aside the ugly and the contentious, and remind ourselves of the aspirational beauty and peace. It is therefore not surprising that globalists should opportunistically attach their own messages to the celebration of Christ’s birth. The devil wraps his poison in attractive packaging. Below are two Christmas-themed commercials that sell the bestialization and emasculation of the Western man:

The Allegro Commercial

Allegro is an online buying and selling service, similar to eBay. The commercial features an old man in Poland who orders an English for Beginners book and teaches himself to speak the language. He travels to the U.K. and arrives at an upper-middle-class house, where he is greeted by his son and his black daughter-in-law. He then uses what he learned to introduce himself to his mixed-race granddaughter.

Comments on Polish-language articles about the ad are overwhelmingly woke. One heavily up-voted comment says: “couldn’t he have just gone to the zoo?” The more dialectical comments point to a myriad other moral failings of the ad, from identitarian to commonplace ones like “why was it the grandfather who had to do the traveling and why didn’t his son even pick him up at the airport?”

Mrs. Santa Delivers

In this English commercial, a boy is an incessant nuisance to his sister and ruins her favorite shoes. Overwhelmed with feelings of worthlessness (which are confirmed by his father), he writes a letter to Santa Claus to replace those shoes. The job is accomplished by the oblivious Santa’s sharp-witted wife, who secretly delivers the shoes and all is “well.”

There are limits of the extent to which shit can be concealed by its pretty veil. Despite the trappings of tradition in the above ads, unease lingers in anyone who will have watched either of them. Wherever someone’s disgust threshold lies, one can only gorge on so many Big Macs before he vomits it all up.

The Chaser

Here is something to wash away the poison:

Why Is The Sky Blue?

  1. Is there transcendence in intoxication?
  2. Is Rock dead?
  3. What is your purpose in life?
  4. Was the 1944 Warsaw Uprising a mistake or a sacrifice with long-term recompense?
  5. Why am I not a liberal?
  6. Can one step into the same river twice?
  7. How did my 18th century paternal great(xN)-grandfather look and what would we talk about if we met?
  8. What is the most beautiful thing today?
  9. What happened to all of the masculine Leftists?
  10. What is the prettiest female name?
  11. What would an AltRighter’s public response be if he were for some reason victimized by nationalists?
  12. What is the most elusive thing?
  13. Do Islam and Mormonism have anything in common?
  14. Is it wrong to have so few regrets?
  15. Does haste ever not make waste?
  16. What is white Supremacy — or White supremacy?
  17. Is art more perfect when true to life?
  18. Are Mulattoes tragic?
  19. Which popular song contains the most wisdom?
  20. Will it be peaceful or bloody?
  21. Is there a foreign agent behind the racial cuckoldry?
  22. What is friendship?
  23. “Grandpa, what did you do during White Genocide?”
  24. Have you ever journeyed into the Underworld and if so, what did you keep?
  25. What can a quadriplegic man do to live his best?
  26. Can a mudshark find redemption?
  27. Have you ever scaled Olympus and if so, what did you keep?
  28. Should I be afraid of death?
  29. How do we value something without it first having to be gone?
  30. What do you want?

To All The Girls I’ve Loved Before

I’m a face-man. Then, its on to appraising her everything else. #whitegirlsaremagic — celebrate their rich diversity right here:

Gilded Siren. Designer stilettos. Elbow bumped; red wine trickles down her naked forearm.

Goofy Girl. Trips over her own feet running up to me. Wants to titter but snorts instead.

The Feline. Always so serious! but make her laugh and she can’t keep her hands to herself.

The Keeper. Her touch is light even when nobody is looking. Don’t spoil her.

Wounded Hollow. What’s so great about darkness anyway? A ballad is all that’s left.

Artsy Chick. Dainty shoulders under an unfashionable t-shirt. Lost and looking.

Earnest Naïf. Watery eyes, pale cheeks. “Men listen because they want to fuck you, dear.”

Dark Lady. Smart and brittle. In passing, our gazes hold longer than is allowed.

Ebullient Flirt. Giggles like an explosion at a chimes factory. A rump made for spanking.


John Berryman (born John Allyn Smith, Jr.) is on the outside, looking in:

Filling her compact & delicious body
with chicken páprika, she glanced at me
Fainting with interest, I hungered back
and only the fact of her husband & four other people
kept me from springing on her

or falling at her little feet and crying
‘You are the hottest one for years of night
Henry’s dazed eyes
have enjoyed, Brilliance.’ I advanced upon
(despairing) my spumoni.—Sir Bones: is stuffed,
de world, wif feeding girls.

—Black hair, complexion Latin, jewelled eyes
downcast . . . The slob beside her feasts . . . What wonders is
she sitting on, over there?
The restaurant buzzes. She might as well be on Mars.
Where did it all go wrong? There ought to be a law against Henry.
—Mr. Bones: there is.

“Dream Song 4” (1959)


Czesław Miłosz also learns that some things cannot be possessed:

I looked at that face, dumbfounded. The lights of métro stations flew by; I didn’t notice them. What can be done, if our sight lacks absolute power to devour objects ecstatically, in an instant, leaving nothing more than the void of an ideal form, a sign like a hieroglyph simplified from the drawing of an animal or bird? A slightly snub nose, a high brow with sleekly brushed-back hair, the line of the chin – but why isn’t the power of sight absolute? – and in a whiteness tinged with pink two sculpted holes, containing a dark, lustrous lava. To absorb that face but to have it simultaneously against the background of all spring boughs, walls, waves, in its weeping, its laughter, moving it back fifteen years, or ahead thirty. To have. It is not even a desire. Like a butterfly, a fish, the stem of a plant, only more mysterious. And so it befell me that after so many attempts at naming the world, I am able only to repeat, harping on one string, the highest, the unique avowal beyond which no power can attain: I am, she is. Shout, blow the trumpets, make thousands-strong marches, leap, rend your clothing, repeating only: is!

She got out at Raspail. I was left behind with the immensity of existing things. A sponge, suffering because it cannot saturate itself; a river, suffering because reflections of clouds and trees are not clouds and trees.

“Esse” (1954), transl. Czesław Miłosz and Robert Pinsky


But other things can be:

You lead me on with those innocent eyes
You know I love the element of surprise
In the garden I was playing the tart
I kissed your lips and broke your heart
You were acting like it was the end of the world

U2, “Until The End of the World” (1992)