What Is White Trash

But first, what’s not White trash? It is not White people who are:

  • Alcoholic
  • Criminal
  • Druggie
  • Fat
  • Illiterate
  • Irresponsible
  • Knocked-up
  • Lazy
  • Loud
  • Poor
  • Resigned
  • Rude
  • Slovenly
  • Smokers
  • Stupid
  • Tatted
  • Ugly
  • Uneducated
  • … or any combination of the above.

Such people are what the words above already describe them to be. I’m with vintage Donald Trump on that expression:

“What does that mean? You don’t joke about being White trash… that’s a pretty stinkin’ statement. I don’t like it as a joke. You shouldn’t use that expression anymore either. How stupid can you be?”

One exception. With its historic origins in the U.S. South, today that expression fits one specific failing of character. Here is an example of White trash: I see a little girl, like an angel, maybe five years old, running free with her golden hair in the sun. And running with her is Diversity.

White trash is that little girl’s negligent parents, who are imprinting her with intimacy with other races. White trash is a person who shits on his European heritage.


Dr. Helen comments on a London School of Economics study that shows happiness peaking at the age of 23 and again at 69:

Notice that the theme here seems to be that people are happiest when not raising a family. Everyone in-between is probably dealing with a lot more stress.

What is this “happiness” they speak of? I’m alive and of alert mind, so I scan the landscape with cold hate every single day, but also with gratitude for the small things that make life a gift. The years between 23 and 69 are life’s in media res. At twenty-two, I had dropped out of college and worked two full-time restaurant jobs. And yet, having that smoke with the guys after work on a moonlit summer night made it a good year.

Nobody chooses his birth year and today neoliberalism aims to destroy everything we build, everything we value. So under the present deal, there are things that need to be done and snares to be avoided. Happiness is not the real thing, it is the sunlight that warms your skin when you strike the balance of performing your duty and enjoying your freedom. Other than that, there is silence, trees, and the open sky. It doesn’t take much to make me happy.


Teen Pop Melody: What Do You Have?

You probably wanna be a little buzzed when reading this post.

If you’re a teenager of the 1950s, you have:

  • … many songs. Houellebecq noted in Elementary Particles that the 1950s teen culture was the heyday of romantic love, something about the era’s harmony of innocence and freedom. Not my time, but I associate the vibe with Bobby Vinton’s “Roses Are Red.”

If you’re a teenager of the 1960s, you have:

  • Beach Boys “Wouldn’t It Be Nice”

If you’re a teenager of the 1970s, you have:

  • Peter Frampton “Baby, I Love Your Way”

If you’re a teenager of the 1980s, you have:

  • [I have ordered my men to tie me to the mast lest the sirens of teenage highs and lows compel me to overload WordPress servers with ballads from that decade.]

If you’re a teenager of the 1990s, you have:

  • Mazzy Star “Fade Into You”
  • Guns N’ Roses “Don’t Cry”

If you’re a teenager of the 2000s, you have:

  • Avril Lavigne “I’m With You”
  • Fuel “Hemorrhage (In My Hands)”

If you’re a teenager of the 2010s, you have:

  • … what do you have?


If you remember the 1980s, you will discharge one manly tear when watching this video:

What The Talented Tenth Are Running From

You saw this photo at Château Heartiste first. It shows a self-identified Christian of Central African Republic eating the leg of a slain Muslim enemy.


There are people of the African diaspora whom W.E.B. Dubois dubbed the “Talented Tenth.” Anticipating the death of liberalism, here are some of the scenarios that might be open to those members of the brown bag caste who want to keep their descendants from reverting to certain African norms:

More anti-racism. In perpetuity, the arrangement under which blacks are granted first-class citizenship over Whites with all of the benefits and none of the responsibilities of running a civilization, as Whites across all social classes have all of the burden with none of the positive incentive.

Mate with Whites. A question about the mudshark-era organ harvesting of White wombs: what if honor-lynchings come back? Another question: what does a Mulatto father do about his light-skinned daughter gravitating to wild bucks? Answer: under patriarchy, whatever needs to be done. Finally… is Philip Chism an improvement over the cannibal?

Individual patronage. On an individual basis, negotiate a patron-vassal relationship with amenable Whites.

White Man’s Burden. The uplifting of Africans to European norms was a 19th century project that faltered with mid-20th century’s liberation of American blacks and welfare-driven dysgenics.

Black eugenics. The more ruthlessly implemented, the sooner the cannibal is bred out of their gene pool. Advocate for a paternalistic society that combines Jim Crow-style enforcement of K-selected cultural standards with Margaret Sanger’s biological measures.

Found a new nation. Forming an autonomous nation based on a Mulatto or similar identity, marrying solely among their fellow caste members. Haiti offers a cautionary tale here: its post-colonial Mulatto class was slaughtered by pure-blooded Africans, so the founders of this new nation would have to set a bottom standard on membership in this community.

Take responsibility for their fellow blacks. Stop mooching from Whites (integration is mooching too), accept their African destiny, and lead their people in harmony with their better nature.

A Few Thoughts About Stephen King’s Novels

“Genre writer” is taken as a pejorative due to the implied slight that the author does not make you think; his work is sensory-level escapism. Still, good genre writers do their craft well and Stephen King was masterful in evoking a sense of dread. Especially the interior monologues of people who are slipping toward madness or evil. I read most of his work as a teenager so my judgment comes through a filter.

But a few weeks ago I picked up a copy of Salem’s Lot (which I read at 14) and opened to a random paragraph near the end of the book. It was a lengthy description of the jittery thoughts of a vampire-fighting priest who was turning into a vampire himself. My suspension of disbelief was smooth. In other words, well written.

His current shitlibbism, as well as its form during his mid-1970s to early-1980s creative peak, has roots in Baby Boomers’ notion that liberal is nice, conservative is mean. That notion comes from their dread of Eisenhower-era growth of unaccountable forces in society. But Boomers misdiagnosed things, deflecting the fear of power grabs from the intelligence-military complex and its private-sector partners onto the scattered voices of resistance to that cancer. Most people fell for it, with figures such as Joseph McCarthy and George Wallace being frozen and polarized into stand-ins for threats to freedom.

But perceptive observers feel the malice, even if they feed their unease into a fake ideology. Firestarter is one of his less-well-known novels but it identifies the deep state and MK Ultra-like operations.

Another fallacy of the ascendant liberalism of his generation was a failure to put the criminal class into perspective. King hated White criminals, going hard on them in The Stand. That’s another manifestation of his “liberal = nice” thinking. Don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone, and few appreciated the role of one’s own reasonably contained criminal class in securing liberty within a multicultural country.

Not completely sure what to make of his three feminist novels. Other than The Body (better known as its film interpretation Stand By Me), Dolores Claiborne may well have been the closest he’s come to literature. It was weighed down by garbage motifs of the period, including the “molester dad” meme, which was injected into popular culture in 1984 by the TV movie Something about Amelia and ran through 1994’s Forrest Gump. Gerald’s Game was similar in that respect.

His third feminist novel Rose Madder was so over-the-top in its nods to sapphic doctrine that it seemed downright lazy (it came off as affected by the Julia Roberts film Sleeping with the Enemy). Reading it was a Lilith Fair experience. Or was he was parodying that strain of political correctness?

Physical Bravery And Young Age

Set in medieval France, the historical drama La passion Béatrice opens with the lord of a manor and his teenage son returning from English captivity after a failed military campaign. But the lord’s homecoming is not what everyone had expected. He directs his first of many acts of wrath at his son, whom he torments for having frozen up in battle as the opposing armies charged toward each other. The boy’s older sister comforts him later, cooing “you were too young, not ready for war.”

Fast-forwarding to another war, two weeks ago in Germany a 26-year-old man was forced to watch a stranger rape his girlfriend at knifepoint, as reported:

A refugee from Ghana has been arrested for dragging a young woman from her tent and raping her while she was on a camping holiday with her boyfriend. The young couple […] were approached by a machete-wielding man at about 12.30 am on Sunday last week. The boyfriend was forced to watch as the attacker violated his 23-year-old lover.

It’s not clear what sidelined the boyfriend while his adversary went to the ground with the girl, what impromptu weapons were available to him, and what opportunity he had to attack the rapist. He could have grabbed a rock or a branch. Toss a handful of dirt into the African’s eyes while rushing him. Yell for help from other campers. It’s easy, from the position of a spectator, to construct a different ending to the story and I indulged in imagining the following alternate scenario, which begins with the Ghanian holding a knife to the girl’s throat:

GHANIAN: “Yoo watch fiki-fiki. Yoo moof, I cut your bitch”

GERMAN: “Stab away. She’ll be dead to me with nigger stink on her anyway.”

The German picks up a camping axe and approaches the interloper. The Ghanaian runs. An hour later in the couple’s tent, baby Hans is conceived.

By the way, as cold as it sounds, that fictitious “stab away” reply would not have been out of line even if the hostage were his daughter rather than mere girlfriend. But the young man didn’t follow my ex post facto armchair-quarterback script. Instead, maybe his brain short-circuited at the sight of sharp steel and he watched the action as though from behind a screen. Someone who grew up sheltered from any and all violence will freeze up when faced with an imminent prospect of physical pain. And that incident shows why shielding boys from common schoolyard rough-and-tumble is wrongheaded. I recently shared related thoughts on bullying.

A reader at Vox Popoli who is a retired military officer noted: “German boys always struck me as wimpish until the military got hold of them.” I don’t think his categorization of them as wimpish was intended as a slight. There is in fact something “not ready for war” about well-bred K-selected boys until they are mentored. They require time and guidance to mature. They don’t have that opportunistic aggression-for-aggression’s sake you see in r-selected types.

But at 26, the camper is not young. Certainly not by the traditional standards of infantrymen, with 22 being the average age of the U.S. combat soldier in Vietnam. Youth alone does not explain that instance of cowardice, as history is full of children who performed superhuman acts of heroism. Just three generations ago, boys as young as eleven fought as riflemen against professional and mercenary SS units in the 1944 Warsaw Uprising. Boys and girls even younger than that served as couriers and nurses’ aides under fire.

In fact, youth is typically associated with recklessness, bravery’s wild cousin. In Umberto Eco’s Foucault’s Pendulum, a middle-aged character has a rueful interior monologue (to my recollection twenty years after reading that book) in which he rationalizes his own reluctance to join the ongoing political riots as being a function of his mature perspective. So has a 26-year-old German today “aged out” of bravery, relative to boys a decade younger than him who comprised Wehrmacht units at the Battle of the Bulge? No; mid-twenties isn’t “mature,” and the VP commenter already answered that question — the military never got a hold of him.

“The military” can be read literally, as well as metaphorically to refer to any communal structure that provides male mentorship to boys. Without that mentoring, they risk ending up as cake batter that failed to rise. An illustration: the mild-mannered young man in Scent of a Woman, who required Al Pacino’s guidance to bring out his innate integrity. The camper’s situation was compounded by the fact that he was not merely abandoned by his fathers, in which case he’d at least been free to figure certain things out by himself. Rather, his environment in a conquered and Allied-occupied Germany was by design hostile to the germ of masculinity within any native boy there. From his first day in Kindergarten, he learned shame and grew up to despise his original sin of existing.

“In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful.” ― C.S. Lewis

A necessary aside: not everyone there is a coward. This is a proper moment to break away from the all-too-familiar accounts of submission because the preponderance of such stories creates a false sense of determinism. We are at war and with each new set of open eyes, the war is becoming less and less one-sided.

So not all is passivity among Europeans. In another incident, also in Germany, a group of Pakistanis sidled up to a family of five on a train and asked the man’s two little girls to sit on their laps. The child-molesting human garbage attacked the father when he told them to leave. They also beat his wife and their thirteen-year-old son, both of whom tried to shield his body. Brave men are out there, in Germany and everywhere else. The father stepped up to do his job and the teenage boy showed more mettle than the camper who is twice his age.

Even the most red-pilled of us is capable of getting angry, and the above news item made me livid. Anger is a sign of life.

Every human group upholds the three ideals listed below for the purpose of turning the wimpish boy into into a man. Those ideals are realized through social institutions, which in the West are being intentionally corrupted by liberalism:

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.

Destiny — A sense of having a past and a future. The kids who fought in the Warsaw Uprising knew that they had a home and a destiny of their own, which they fought to secure for themselves and for me with their young lives. Sure of their righteousness in the inferno of urban warfare, they sang:

We’re the children of Warsaw going into battle
For your every cobblestone, we’ll give our blood
We’re the children of Warsaw going into battle
On your command, we’ll bring wrath to the enemy

Freezing up when an armed rapist grabs your girl is the fruit of political systems whose aim is to destroy White nations and with them, everything that the millennia of Western history have irrepressibly created even through the worst times along the course of our highs and lows. Our key objective in this war, in Germany and everywhere else in the West, is to secure our freedoms of association. You give a damn for, you fight and kill for, you give what you have and you do your best for, and you willingly die no matter your age, for what is yours.


Image source: Wikipedia. “The Little Insurrectionist,” Warsaw

Whom In This Photo Do You Hate?

If you said “nobody,” you’re not telling the truth. You see two, maybe three principal actors in this photograph and one of them is lower to you than a bug. It is a snapshot from a morality play with a hero who represents your aspirations, a villain representing those who want you gone, and a neutral party where pretense to neutrality is a lie.


What happened:

Ian Crossland, EDL leader, told MailOnline their minute’s silence was disturbed by protesters. He said: “We were holding a minute’s silence for the victims of the Westminster and Stockholm terror attacks. But members of Unite Against Fascism were screaming ‘Nazi scum’ and spitting at us. Yes, I look angry, but who wouldn’t be if someone screamed and spat in your face?

“In the picture she [Saffiyah Khan] is laughing at me while I am telling her to get out of the demonstration and respect the silence. She’s laughing because she’s managed to disturb the demonstration, she’s completed her aim. She’s since claimed that we were abusing a woman in a headscarf. But that’s not true. We only shouted at them after they disrupted the minute’s silence. She is adjusting her story to suit her own ends. There are two sides to every story.”

The divorced 44-year-old father of three, who runs a building company in Sheffield, has been an EDL member since 2013. He said the EDL were protesting against the radicalisation of Muslims in Birmingham mosques.

One side talks about protesting racism and the other side talks about protesting terrorism. But those are just words you say because you might not tell yourself, certainly not the cameras, what the ancient hind-brain counsels: incinerate the toxic biomass.

The feeling of hate is your instinct directing your sympathy toward one or the other party in the photo because they represent your future. When two incompatible destinies occupy one land, as physics is guide, one or both of them will have to go.

In this case, it’s either the smirking welfare recipients protected by a “liaison officer” or the people who saw that their tolerance gave them nothing in return but their backs against the wall in their own home.