“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.”
— Henryk Sienkiewicz, “In the Desert and the Wilderness” (1910)
“So I Could Look Myself in the Mirror”
A young woman sat in front of me and opened a book as the subway rolled underground in predawn hours. It was a real book, not even Kindle, much less an iPhone. At the next station, a very large and visibly intoxicated Black guy gets on the train and wobbles through the car, hazily surveying the empty seats. Then purpose flashes in the cloudy soup of his eyes; he beelines toward our end of the car and takes the seat immediately in front of me, next to that girl with a book. He wasn’t a hobo; he looked more like a construction worker coming down from an all-night drinking bender. The smell of alcohol fills the air.
If his presence next to her made her nervous, or if she stiffened her body, I couldn’t tell. She kept reading as he sat there glancing at her face, gears in his head slowly turning. Predictably as sunrise, he grins and says “hey guuurl, whatcha reading?” She answers politely, with uptalk. Meanwhile the train stops at various stations and I wonder, “Why isn’t this idiot girl getting off and waiting for the next train?” Maybe it’s her feminine instinct: it’s early, there are no people on platforms and it’s safer on the train than if he were to follow her out at a station. Or maybe it’s her obliviousness to a threat.
I take stock the situation. He is sitting right in front of me. My glasses go into my pocket. I memorize the car number printed on the end door. Then ask myself, will I do anything if he starts pawing at her? I have no interest, in the slightest, in being a hero on her account. There are those who they need me alive, to hell with some chick who probably voted for Obama and is not likely having White children soon. I have no obligation to her. But then the words “look myself in the mirror the next day” run through my mind. She seems like a nice girl. The decision is made — I will.
So on to tactical planning: number one, I’ve won serious fights as an adult but it’s clear that I’d have no chance against him on account of the sheer difference in our size and weight. Do nothing unless he touches her. If he does, I will grab his neck in a wrestling choke. No half-ass about it. Balls to the wall until he passes out or else he will overpower me. Survey the car: there is a handful of other passengers but nobody to count on for assistance. The girl, another woman, a thin older man, and a young guy who doesn’t seem likely to be of much use. On the plus side, there is nobody here who would interfere on the drunk’s behalf. There is another Black man in the car, but he is a pudgy Talented Tenth with a gentle face.
The train stops at my station. I exit and tell the station manager about a drunk passenger aggressively bothering people. I describe him and provide the car number. The station manager’s face is serious and he gets on the phone.
Casting Pearls before Swine — or Sacrificing a Good Man for a Pig
There was a news report about a young woman who attempted suicide by jumping out of a window. Standing on the street below, her boyfriend tried to catch her. Landing on him, she lived but he died. If I had the power right now, then I would — without any doubt about the rightness of what I am doing — reverse their fates so that the young man lives and she dies. The loss of a self-evidently quality man was not, in this example of personal sacrifice, duly recompensed with the prolonged life of a selfish, neurotic attention-whore.
Elaborating on the subject of wasting good men for less-than-worthy women, Matt Forney recently featured a guest post from a blogger named Kyle, titled “Men Aren’t Fighting for Women Anymore, and Why Should They?” Kyle has no illusions about the revealed dispensability of men in modern West. He knows about the contempt in which all of our institutions hold us while expecting our sacrifice. He is clear-eyed about the broken social agreement, one that obligates both sexes toward both self-restraint and self-sacrifice in the interest of the common good. Kyle writes:
I don’t want it this way, but it’s simply the harsh reality of the situation. In today’s age of shunning men, extreme female promiscuity, and generally degenerate culture (celebrity worship, obesity, rape culture, etc.), why would men rush to jump in front of a bullet for a Western woman?
As Kyle heavily qualifies in his post, it is proper to sacrifice oneself for a family member or a friend. And as I would also add, for a child and for one’s own standards of honor. Those qualifications aside, I applaud Kyle’s alert cynicism and his insight into today’s one-way arrow of duty between men and women.
Can These Castrati at Least Sing?
Here is the LINK to the story. Dutch men put on mini-skirts to support victims of sex attacks. My appeal to somebody in the Netherlands: please beat them with wet rubber hoses.
My appeal to these misguided boys in miniskirts: you were born and raised during Europe’s outburst of effeminate madness. Your Northern soul seeks the truth and strives for righteousness, but everything you believe is a lie. The truth is that your undignified unmanning fails to protect even one Dutch woman. In fact, it has the exact opposite effect, in that your self-inflicted beclowning emboldens the savages that have been pumped into your country. Furthermore, when a Dutch girl sees you parading about like this, her disgust with an Arab’s grope becomes milder than her revulsion at the thought of your caress.
The Hero of Cologne
Via the UK Daily Mail, Ivan Jurcevic is a 44-year-old Croat and a former kickboxing champion. He was working in Cologne as a hotel doorman and on New Year’s Eve 2015 he saved two German women from a mob of “rapefugees.” He said:
‘There were four of them, young men in their 20s, speaking Arabic. They told me not to interfere, that the girls were “theirs”.
‘The girls looked like they worked in a bank, they were wearing jeans and coats, nothing provocative, they were really frightened. I told them to stand behind me.’
‘Then the loudest member of the gang came at me with a bottle so I kicked him in the chest and sent him flying. Another came at me so I slapped him across the face and he went over as well.
‘The leader drew his finger across his throat and told me he would be back to kill me. I stood my ground and they went on their way.’
Men have biographies, women have grandchildren. You will look back at your one shot at life and you will ask yourself: did I earn the right to stand next to Jurcevic? Most of us are not seven-foot-tall martial artists, but we all make decisions that reflect on our quality as men. Do you know what you believe in and do you stand up for it?
Valor for Virtue: “Jeans and Coats, Nothing Provocative”
White knighting is a derivative of a social contract wherein men’s valor is exchanged for women’s virtue. Chivalry was never a one-way street; that would have been called “cuckoldry.” A chivalrous knight defended the lady — but he also scorned the whore and had his adulterous wife beheaded.
Jurcevic’s account from Cologne, which I quote above, reveals the traditionalist mindset: “the girls looked like they worked in a bank, they were wearing jeans and coats, nothing provocative.” He not only just triggered a thousand Slut Marches, he drew the difference between girls who merit masculine protection, and ones who do not. And recalling the Sienkiewicz quote at the top of this post, a recent comment by reader Peterike comes to mind:
It was all about the homeland and the women. I guess a threat to one’s self doesn’t need explaining, but it needs more consideration to kill in that case. But threaten my nation or the women and it’s over for you. Such healthy attitudes! Today, as immigrant hordes threaten our nation and quite actively assault our women, we sit supine.
Men secure the present through our provision and protection. Women secure the future through the children they bear us. For the equation of mutual duty to work, men are expected to be valorous and women virtuous. That’s the two-way arrow of obligation that gave women priority for lifeboats on the Titanic.
A reversal of our decline will begin when we White men affirm our responsibilities to our women and reassert our expectations of them, pulling together those scattered links of interdependence. The women of Europe are afraid and maybe Merkel’s deluge is Providence handing us an opportunity reclaim what is ours.