“But the airwaves are clean”

You rocked out with 1,000 Italians to Foo Fighters’ “Learning to Fly.”

You followed the shitlord’s progress to The Verve’s “Bittersweet Symphony.”

And now you can do both! enjoy 1,000 Italian rockers performing “Bittersweet Symphony.”

The opening notes of that song hint of good developments ahead.

Open thread.

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A meme and a photo

No conflict between the two is implied. They are essentially identical.

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MM in Blackface

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A new episode of Murdoch Murdoch, “No Hard R.” It’s not on YouTube as far as I can tell, so here is the BitChute link. All of their episodes are also archived on cheekyvideos.net. You will:

  • Laugh at Dr. Murdoch’s outdated black slang
  • Not-laugh at Disney actresses
  • Appreciate that the more lurid rumors about globohomo elites are not overstated
  • Cheer as a Leftist factions turns on another
  • Have waffles with Mel Gibson.

Leaders and followers

The sixty-four thousand dollar question is whether white teenagers will cuck on “racism” as is self-servingly ill-defined by the demon horde? – Thordaddy

The common template over time is that a given fraction of a nation, let’s say about 3% of that ethnic group, will be actively communist. A larger fraction, impressionisticly I’d put that at 7%, will be actively traditionalist.

A definition of terms: I use “communist” and “traditionalist” in their broad generic sense here. Aligning the former with leftism/power/Satan and the latter with rightism/truth/Jesus. And by “actively,” I refer to some kind of a public leadership role on any scale, in any capacity, and persistent in face of social or legal opposition.

Back to the numbers… the remaining 90% of the people of that large homogeneous population are going to be on a gradient that skews heavily to the Right (as a whole we are instinctively traditionalist, but passive). The reason that the outnumbered communists hadn’t been eliminated in a natural selection process, though, and the reason that they are effective, is because their job is easier. They have entropy on their side. They roll the stone downhill.

What is this “downhill” a metaphor for? It’s metaphor for the human fallibility in our universal temptations to “let go” and yield to any of the seven deadly sins. But why not just stop struggling and let go, one may ask. The answer is that reversion-to-animal is at the end of that road. Cannibalism, lying down in one’s own feces, a spiritual flatline, Africa.

Communism is the seizure of power through an appeal to base human impulses: envy, sloth, you know the rest of them.

Thankfully we are a people with a powerful counterentropy drive. That’s the wind at our backs. Leave us alone and we create a world that glorifies God Almighty because we had been breathed that spark into our souls. Our 7% is stronger that our 3%. Our 90% longs to follow our better Angel.

Some will say that communism, lower-case c, is a Special People toxin. Others will say that the devil is innately in us but we always cancel out its ill effects. For example, a libertine decade will be followed by a straitlaced one, absent external interference. And those people will say that while Specials aren’t synonymous with communism, their subversive actors do throw accelerant on our evil impulses and suppressant on our impulse toward self-correction.

On a total tangent. Something I’ve picked up on is that nonwhite or communist commenters who pretend to be on the nationalist Right give themselves away with this: with their black-pillesque attitude about the fate of our nations, if you will, expressed in a scornful tone that condemns our follower-90% for their failure to leap over some ever-retreating moral hurdle. Though I’ll also grant, sometimes it’s a sincere person on our side who is struggling with his own anger.

An observation about teenagers

Anyone else noticed that (White, of course) teenage boys are more impressive than ones from 10-15 years ago? More confident, standing upright, better dressed, eyes more focused, better hairstyle.

I have been noticing it big time. My belief is that Trump’s victory had a major impact on the collective psyche of young Whites. Other possible factors:

  • Red pill knowledge has worked its way into popular consciousness
  • Telewitz is for old people, the kids watch age-appropriate shitlord YouTubers
  • GenX parents

Songs about the rain

The purpose of the entertainment (((industry))) is to corrupt everything it touches, starting with the talent that it recruits. In exchange for our balladeers’ souls it gives them the world. The Highwaymen, four talented men who made their careers in the diabolical industry. Kris Kristofferson likened Jesus Christ, approvingly, to Barabbas Che Guevara. Johnny Cash spent much of his long life extricating himself from the wreckage of his youthful hedonism. Willie Nelson pushed marijuana. Waylon Jennings never forgave himself for telling his friends “I hope your ol’ plane crashes.”


“Freedom’s just another word for…” That was then. There is always something left to lose. What follows is now.

Outrunning the rain:

… I walked five miles to meet a friend at a pub. This was at the height of last summer. Things were heavy after Charlottesville and there was an eclipse coming. At first, the heavy clouds to my south looked like they will pass me, but they were getting closer and blacker, taking on the greenish tinge one sees before a tornado. I walked in just as the downpour hit.

My friend arrived by car at the same time, as planned. We sat at a table by the window, with the thunderous pounding of the rain drowning out the conversation. He was in as somber a mood as I was that day. Our waitress stopped for a bit of small talk and shuddered, looking through the window. If anyone had asked me what’s on my mind, I’d have thought about if briefly and said: ___

The walk took place in the summer of 2017. That thought was completed for me in the comments:

so it will be before the walls of Gondor, the Great Battle of our Time

lotr1


Songs about the rain with no mention of the two greatest, November Rain and Purple Rain:

Adele, Set Fire to the Rain. One of the few fine recordings from the past 15 years.

Peter Gabriel, Red Rain. He has a lot to answer for, with his anti-Apartheid activism. Except if artists do not possess a free will, in which case he’s innocent. The artist as a passive conduit:

how does [art] become? I think there are three elements. One: the artist’s sub-rational openness to the transcendent; you can also call that authenticity, or sincerity. Two: artist the man as a medium; his purity or corruption, his originality in filtering the intangible on it way to material expression. Three: his technical skill [in delivering] the artifact faithfully to intent.

The artist is also susceptible to being manipulated by his handlers.

The Alarm, Rain in the Summertime. Northeastern Europe… childhood memory of birds singing after the summer storm passes.

Edie Brickell, A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall. Vocally, she’s to the song’s writer Bob Dylan as a mammal is to a scorpion. I haven’t listened to this in decades until just now and it was nice to hear it again.

Late 1980s, “Tommy” and I worked in a restaurant after school. Brickell’s What I Am was playing and the manager, a charismatic woman, said something flippant about that song. Tommy chuckled and said “Yeah, she thinks she’s God’s gift to alternative music.” I made friends with him earlier in high school. He had just moved in from another state and got sat next to me in math class. His intelligence as measured by the SAT was stratospheric. Soon enough he showed me his notebook of original poetry. There was an ode to the moon. Good times hanging out in his mom’s house, philosophizing to Pink Floyd (no drugs).

He dropped off the radar not long after high school. A mutual friend gets in contact with him thirty years later and learns that he had recently gone through a sex-change operation. If you knew Tommy, you’d not be caught off-guard by that. His once deep, resonant voice now sounds like a woman’s. He went to an extreme of self-injury seeking peace.

Willie Nelson, Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain. Shania Twain performs the vocals here, with the Old Master himself backing her on his own song. The highlight is Willie Nelson’s guitar solo halfway through the song. Talent is rare and you know it when you see it.

The Slow Dance

Remember back in high school, the slow song came on and you’d take a girl to the dance floor. You hold her around her waist. She wraps her arms around your neck if she likes you. Then you sway with the ballad. What kind of a boy doesn’t pop wood and awkwardly keep it from touching her as his thighs rub against hers, crisp wool trousers against her silky dress.

Do teenagers still do this?

Tu, soltante tu is that kind of a song, the video being from 1982. The couple performing it is in their thirties. The body language isn’t Hallmark-perfect but these things can be complicated. They had a son and three daughters together, one of whom would later disappear under unsavory circumstances.

Here they are much older in 2016 and long-divorced. She’s in her mid-sixties, he’s 73. The old broad gets frisky starting at 1:40!

tu soltanto tu
con tutte le sorprese che mi fai
quel po di timidezza che tu hai
quel modo di vestire un po strano
con le mani sul piano

Then they do a little ad-lib after 3:00.

Everyone has his allotted life force and Albano Carrisi’s holding strong as a performing artist. But the age-cliff hits healthy men fast. In ten years he might be feeble, with a sunken face and vacant eyes. Life is a slow dance.

Open thread.

(The most recent post about the second-greatest pop act of all time is here, along with a rabbit hole of links.)