Although I was familiar with the case and had seen the photograph before, I was not yet prepared for the emotional impact of your accompanying message and the commentary to the posting. It was so stunning that I chose the subject and your message to create a painting, my rendition to the last photograph of Mrs. Weaver. This painting is named “Maeror” roughly translated from Latin to grief or suffering.
Daniele Vek’s full letter is in the original CH post, describing how she was moved by the following photo and an accompanying comment, both of which I had posted at Château Heartiste three years earlier:
The accompanying comment:
This photo [is] my contribution to the “Goodbye America” series. It’s different than the usual images of degeneracy. Instead, it is a tragic snapshot of what was good and noble.
Look at the photo. Haunting, isn’t it?
It’s a US Marshalls surveillance image of the Weaver ranch ahead of the Ruby Ridge massacre. The woman in the photo is Vicki Weaver, who would later that day be shot through the head by an Asian-American FBI sniper, while standing in a cabin door and holding her and Randy’s baby.
If I understand the timeline of events correctly, Vicki Weaver in this photo is mourning the death of her 14-year old son Sammy, killed by the feds earlier that day. If that’s the case, the photo is an American Pietà.
This is Daniele’s sublime painting; I see sorrow… and vengeance:
Les Saunders, Protestant recalls the 1990s:
I was just a kid at the time, but in America, and even in my own household, Ruby Ridge, Waco, and Oklahoma City represented a turning point. That turning point was where the faith of heritage Americans, and of my old stock Canadian relatives, in government and The System was officially dead.
While as of the early 1990s the assault against us had been well underway for decades, it was by this point that effects of this campaign were visceral and not up for debate. Decades of open borders had made third worlders an unavoidable fact of life in our cities. 12 years of Reagan-Bush yielded only broken promises of “read my lips, no new taxes”, amnesty, and regulations. Degeneracy was being bulldozed on us with “Friends” and the “first homosexual kiss on television” (the Ellen Degenerate show). Welfare, urban decay, crime, job losses, and the mainstreaming of rap and black drug culture had taken its toll. And to cap it all off, the election of an open pervert and sexual deviant by the name of William Jefferson Clinton (albeit with a slim plurality of votes owing to the Ross Perot candidacy, which was, in part, a heritage reaction to mounting degeneracy), decorated with innocuous baby boomer dad jeans, sneakers, and a Strong Empowered Modern Wife.
Americans naturally responded to this growing mess, but the only option they had was Newt Gingrich and the Contract with America in 1994. What did that get us? Some cutting of muh taxes but mostly globalist trade deals and hypocritical attacks on Rapin’ Bill for the viewers at home.
Make no mistake, the bullet fired at Vicki Weaver was a bullet fired at all of Heritage America and the baby you’re cradling in your arms today.
God willing, President Trump knows the score (he does) and will return the country to its rightful owners.
Mister President, we trust you. You’ve seen us at the rallies. Give us one good General and then give us the word, Sir.