The Mudshark’s Rue

“The Saddest Story Ever Told” is a poem by Olivier Allstrom (1878 – 1963). I wonder if it doesn’t, in places, project male sentiments onto a female who made an irreversible mistake. Mudsharks strike me as too degraded to have these higher feelings. But I could be wrong.

Women who mix sentence themselves to internal exile. I heard of a European girl who married darkly in America and once visited her native country with her kids. A man smirked and told her, “Your parents must be very proud.” Henceforth, she traveled alone.

The poem:

“The Saddest Story Ever Told”

When a white girl marries a negro, her sun of life goes down.
And glaring spots of sin appear on her white wedding gown.
And white and black men stand aghast, while viewing this strange role;
And mutter, “they will wreck themselves, and damn each other’s soul.”

We know a carnivorous bug has crept into her brain
And gnawed away her self-respect, which left her half insane.
Now all her racial pride has flown beyond redemption’s fold
And she begin’s life’s saddest tale that ever yet was told.

Three days and nights she felt black lips press smug against her own,
And on the fourth, her troubled soul, let out a frightful groan.
And so the weeks and months flew by, and then a baby came;
She looked at it with tear filled eyes, and hung her head with shame.

And then she dreamed of other days, sweet, girlhood days gone by,
And of the white friends left behind, and so we hear her cry;
“O, could I turn life’s pendulum backwards a few short years
I would not bear this cross today, nor shed these bitter tears.”

“My baby would be white as snow, and sleep upon my breast
Like a fledgling robin that slumbers in its nest.
While now, O God, my mongrel child just whimpers through the night
Till in my sleepless dreams I scream, not white, O God, not white!”

And so I stagger through my days far from God’s love and grace,
Till now, I know, no black man lives, can take a white man’s place.
My offsprings shall be mongrel bred, their hue-skin shall remain,
For even God with all His power, cannot remove the stain.

I sold my birthright for a mess, I mixed my white-born blood
With black blood, so I languish here like one bogged down in mud.
Though God may grant a pardon, I never can retrace
My footsteps down life’s narrow road, back to the white man’s race.

So now I groan, “It might have been,” had racial pride been mine.
Today I’d hug a pure white child, and call him half divine,
I’d lift him up before the world, and praise his father’s name,
While now, my baby’s mongrel face, reminds me of my shame.

All other crimes may be forgiven when prayer its power fulfills;
The scheming crook may find new hope, and even the man that kills,
But all my prayers can never clear my baby’s mongrel skin,
Nor make him white as driven snow, nor cleanse my soul of sin.

I was my father’s future hope, my mother’s joy and pride,
But I got lost on life’s dark road, and there my spirit died.
I smeared my all-white heritage and left the white man’s track,
Now my descendants for all time shall be forever black.

I try to hide from all the stars, the moon and setting sun;
For all mankind of my white race, condemn what I have done;
I tremble and my teardrops flow, I pray, but pray in vain;
For nevermore shall I be one with my white race again.

And so dark clouds above me roll, deep waters crash below,
I sink, and reap what I have sown, and drink my cup of woe.
My mother sleeps deep in her grave, my dad lies at her side,
For both were crushed when I became a negro’s common bride.

Now, should I decide to leave him, where could I choose to go?
My misspent life will follow me like footprints in the snow.
Before me lie dark jungles where paramours seek a prey;
Behind me death keeps whispering, “I am the only way.”

This black and white, prenuptial mess, this racial suicide;
Must be forbidden by the law, men must find racial pride!
Then, never again, forever, shall tales like mine unfold.
With all its shame and sadness, that ever yet was told.



15 thoughts on “The Mudshark’s Rue

  1. Wow, the author of that poem sounds just like you PA

    Murka WAS the white ethnostate. That poem was written almost within a human lifetime of our current time. Things can change fast.

    He writes like a full WN.

  2. In real life I seem to see more and more lone white females transporting brown children in public. Usually no father around.

  3. Pingback: The Mudshark’s Rue | Reaction Times

  4. Mudsharks know they’ve done wrong. I make it a principle to avoid all eye contact with them. I found a real shark in a gasping for life in a puddle once; I tossed it back in the sea, cast my line back into the waves, and caught the same shark properly. The meat was bland, but the eyes went exceptionally well with melted margarine and paprika..

  5. I one met the half-Latina daughter of a white woman and had a chance to talk with her honestly a little bit and it broke my heart to hear about things from her perspective. I’d never thought much about the kids of these interracial unions. This woman knew nothing at all of her Latino father, not his name, or anything about him. This woman was raised entirely in a white environment and looked Latina but knew nothing of that part of her heritage. Imagine being completely cut off from your father and his entire side of the family, knowing nothing of your ancestry, family stories, nothing. Her mother did manage to marry a white man, but the woman said her stepfather hated that she was brown. (Of course he would, because she makes him look severely cucked.) She could even tell that her own mother had mixed feelings about her. Can you imagine how bad it would feel to see disappointment like that in your mother’s eyes when she looked at you? The woman had not one ounce of knowledge of Latino culture and was white in everything but her appearance, but she would never really fit in to white society. And she would never fit into Latino society either because she knew nothing of it and had no interest in it.

    By having sex with a Latino her white mother doomed her to a life of deep, despairing yearning to belong. She yearned to be truly white but felt guilty for it. And there’s not a damned thing she can do to fix it, because the source of the problem is in her DNA mixture. What a terrible thing to do to a kid. Really the kids of those unions deserve more empathy than the women. It’s no wonder they often become conflicted activists like Obama.

    But in the final analysis it’s the fault of white men for emancipating white women and for allowing the non-whites into the country where they could get at the women. If we white men aren’t going to make a society where teenage girls don’t have the opportunity to spend time alone with brown boys then you are going to end up with these heartbreaking results.

  6. There isn’t much that ordinary people can do about things like national policy. For that, we have to support our side in politics, which is why I’m 100% behind Trump.

    But there is a lot that we can do on the personal level. Freeing your mind and connecting with others is step one. My all-time most popular post is “How To Help Prevent Mudsharking.” It has advice on the practical level and explains how to be an active parent, rather than be on autopilot like in past generations and rely on society to raise one’s children. The article gets daily web traffic more than two years after being posted.

    We live in a ugly time. Certain perceptual adjustments are necessary for us to wall-off the ugliness. One of them is an uncompromising emotional response to the sight of a White woman touching something dark. Doesn’t matter that she’s fat and that you’d never have interest in her. The proper and natural gut feeling is similar to how you’d react if you saw a cockroach on your window curtain.

    You don’t have to condition yourself to feel that way. It’s already in you. Elemental feelings like that are part of your human nature. Freeing your mind is doing away with the liberal conditioning to the contrary. It’s OK to be White.

    The European fellow in my anecdote above didn’t have to break any laws or risk anything. He merely smirked and quipped. Yet thanks to that small gesture, he prevented one individual from ever again bringing mixed kids to her formerly native country.

  7. Miscegenation is self-annihilation and children of miscegenation are a born “identity crisis.” Starting with these basic assumptions, one can recognize that the fanatical activism of “half-breeds” is a denial mechanism on account of a personal and collective “identity crisis” and a cyst-stem dominate, perpetuating self-annihilation. Per inverted reality, leftism IS “identity crisis” and self-annihilation AND NOT “identity politics.” The only ENTITY absolutely identifiable through leftist eyes is the “white (s)upremacist.” Everyone else is entirely “fluid” and less than identifiable. Radical autonomy. Anti-white (S)upremacy. The entire program is exquisitely coherent.

  8. Miscegenation is the most complex and subtle form of self-annihilation because every pairing brings to one degree or many degrees a crossing of races as PARTICULARLY understood as one’s own father. Your race is your father. Pro-creating is miscegenating at the fundamental level BECAUSE incest is proscribed while incestual is reverberating degeneracy. Ergo, healthy procreation involves the mixing of different races at the fundamental level.

    The real issue is PUBLIC ADVOCACY of “white” and “black” fathers clashing at the level of mudshark and nigger.

    This is the publicly advocated miscegenation that represents EXPLICIT self-annihilation.

    Yet, it is a forced projection. A desire forcefully projected with residual effects. “It” is not what it seems and still very real.

    So from virtual white father to virtual white daughter, just say, “No! nigger!!!” And leave promptly.

  9. Sweet! I was waiting for the newest episode.

    Watching Murdoch Murdoch is like watching a version of myself make vidya. That guy is so 80s its crazy.

    Seems he watched too much Beavis and Butthead too. Alot of the music seems pulled from Nintendo games. April O Neil, Top Gun, Miami Vice

  10. I keep a file of quotes from posts and comments from sites like this one, quotes that really speak to me. This one’s from several years ago, probably on Heartiste:
    “Once upon a time I lived in a town that hosted a large Army Post. I also worked on the Army Post, and while my children were younger than 5, I didn’t worry too much about demographics. But oh the horror stories I was hearing from my very white older co-workers about how some of their daughters had decided to birth some type of half white. Every tale was tragic. It was tragic at year 1, year 5 and year 10. And of the 7 or so half white breedings personally observed… zero of the brood mothers were with their kid’s father. NONE. As a bonus 5 of the 7 daughters still lived with mom and dad. AND one house had TWO daughters decide to go half white mothering! What bonus! Little sis decided halvsies was good for her too! So my advice is if you don’t want to have half-whites it’s a good idea to live where that is rare. “

  11. Well, unfortunately we now have the clear evidence that dee bl@ck babydaddy can take a hike and then the single mother can raise up a Great Mulatto who can be eloquent n’ sheit, and then go on to become President and the first lady with arms as long as a gibbon’s can jet to Europe to hobnob with royalty.

  12. Jim Bob, part of a mother’s pride and love for her children is an extension of her love and respect for their father (who ought be her husband too, but I’m sooo old fashioned).

    If your get is just the product of some hit-and-run one night insemination job, you don’t really see the kid. You see the shame of sluttery, the failure of dignity, the rejection of your culture for pleasure’s sake.

    A woman who loves her man, the father of her children, sees fruition, and works hard to make sure those trees bear fruit, too.

  13. The poem resonates with me.
    Salt-and-pepper couple live next door.
    Three nights ago the male beat his toddler daughter into screaming incoherence
    for talking while he was watching a movie.

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