The Wages of Cuckoldry is Scorn

American football star Colin Kaepernick disavowed the U.S. national anthem, and not because of his government’s imperial rapine. Rather, he gave this as his reason:

I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color.

Did Kaepernick’s adoptive parents echo King Lear’s plaint about a thankless child and a serpent’s tooth? Black-fathered bastards or adoptees raised by Whites often embrace their missing father’s African identity. This is understandable given human nature, but what interests me is the spiteful contempt they almost invariably show for their European cuck and wet-nurse benefactors.

It’s been an ugly story, even before the flag flap. Kaepernick’s biological father, true to script, dindu nuffin. His White biological mother, who gave him up for adoption in infancy, attempted to contact her son after he had already become a millionaire and her parents, in turn, hasten to add that they supported their daughter in her obscene pregnancy. Her second son is White; the poor child was delivered from a telegony-stained womb. Kaepernick’s adoptive parents are humiliated and not just by the anthem controversy. This photo is from three years ago and the eyes tell all:

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Image credit: (c)fox40.com

Colin Kaepernick is nature’s instrument of cruel but fair justice. The serpent’s tooth is for the best, a reassertion of the one-drop-rule absent its codification into law. Something always arrests Europe’s tropical drift. As Czesław Miłosz wrote in his poem about rebellion:

And what I have met with in life was the just punishment
Which reaches, sooner of later, the breaker of a taboo.

 

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The Mudshark: A Comedy Or A Tragedy?

A young brunette and a dark-skinned man are strolling about downtown on a nice evening, looking idly into the storefront windows they walk past. It’s not what you think. I was meeting up for drinks with a group of coworkers and as it happened, most of us were running late except the above-mentioned brunette and the Black coworker of mine, who were not a couple. To kill time while waiting for the rest of the group, they walked around for a bit. Later, she described to me the shock of noticing people’s reactions to the sight of them as a presumed couple. She said that she’s never experienced that before: every person she passed either gave her dagger-looks or froze her out. “How can somebody choose to live that way?” she asked.

On a crowded subway train, a petite White woman stood with her stroller turned away from me. I gave her a sympathetic smile as she jostled her way through the crowd to get off the train at her station. She caught that and responded glowingly. Then she turned the stroller, revealing a biracial child that obviously had a Black father, and — this was purely a reflex on my part — my friendly expression changed to a cold mask. She caught that too, and it showed in her eyes.

How about an East Asian perspective on mixing? Stationed as a U.S. soldier in Korea, I was out with a local girl one afternoon. We were cutting through apartment blocks and came upon a group of young boys who shouted something at us in Hangul. Her face turned deep red, she squeezed my hand and prompted me to walk quickly. Once clear, I asked her what they said. She replied “they called me a terrible name, I don’t want to tell you.” Two years later, now out of the Army and back in the United States, I was having lunch with another Korean girl. She mentioned that she had two Amerasian classmates in Seoul and told me that the half-White girl was very nice. She then scrunched her face into a portrait of disgust and added “the Black one was so ugly. Everybody hated her.”

Folks, I didn’t create the world, I just describe it. For pretty lies, you’re free to look at Old Navy ads. For ugly lies, turn on your television. And as for comedy, there is this story in the Observer, titled “The Tiresome Question I’m Often Asked About My Brown Kids: Where Are They From?” that transcends the sordid to reach for high farce:

I’m a white mother of six children, five of whom are children of color, and four of whom came home to our family through foster-adoption.

So… one out of six ain’t bad? Not exactly:

[M]y first child, Rory, who is my biological son. His father is Jamaican, and Rory, now 18, alternates between referring to himself as biracial or Black.

Sometimes you just have to laugh. The linked article is unadulterated comedy pinned on hackneyed bitching about normal questions that normal people ask her about her abnormal household.

But that spectacular story aside, what about the common and depressingly banal instances of mudsharking — does one laugh or weep at one woman’s self-removal from the common gene-pool? I guess it depends on whether you think that her straying was predisposed or an accident. Or to expand on that question, is exogamy effectively nature culling a defective female in a mocking form of subtractive eugenics? That is the case if you accept a deterministic explanation that ‘sharks are genetically predisposed to becoming morbidly generous and disloyal. In that scenario, female exogamy is a boiling-off dynamic similar to Amish youths who leave their communities for modern life.

Or is the eugenic explanation false because women are malleable, or like leaves in the wind that follow the strongest current? That would make miscegenation a tragic loss to all of us, no different, from the Darwinian perspective, than an ordinary teenage girl’s death in a traffic accident.

More succinctly then, is it fate or chance? I will leave that question to the reader, but first ask him to acknowledge a common overcorrection of sex-realism, the tendency to discharge women of their agency. When it comes to sex, from selecting the shade of lipstick to making herself vulnerable to rape, nothing a woman does is “by accident.” Rather, her choices, big and small, follow a ruthlessly Machiavellian, internally consistent logic that guides her toward the optimization of her reproductive outcomes. In a healthy girl living in a healthy society, that internal guide can lead her toward life’s end-game of triumphant grandmotherhood. In other cases, her inner guide will be a false song, as with women who delay pair-bonding and motherhood. Or its program will be hijacked,  as with girls who deform themselves in body and soul.

Mudsharks follow that hijacked behavioral template. Some are extreme submissives thrilled by being degraded. And what’s more degrading that the steps that lead her toward lumbering through Walmart with fatherless, identityless children?  Others are acting out the female equivalent of omega-rage, lashing out at their world in the most devastating way they can, exacting revenge on their fathers or former White boyfriends by staining their own branch to spite the tree. And yet others merely have exotic tastes and as with the author in that Observer article, they want the world to know it.

So is the crossing of racial lines always pathological? My answer would be that miscegenation is a breaking of a taboo. Sometimes nothing bad happens. Sometimes love has strange whims and two good people find each other across cultures. In fair-weather times, a touch of spirit for vive la difference can even turn up a genial “superman.”

But these are not fair times and fortunes are no longer in a forgiving mood. A big part of our former dispensation was society’s acceptance of the collective costs of individual discretion and indiscretion. Yet tolerance has its limits and human nature, with its aversion to cuckoldry and habitat corruption, asserts itself when pushed by circumstances such as the current demographic climate Whites are finding themselves in, facing an engineered future of being minorities in our own countries. Such a worst-case-scenario is frightening to a sane person. And that is why the future is identitarian, which means that you have to know who you are.

***

Wisdom is a product of patriarchy. Old women transmit their fathers‘ lessons to their granddaughters. The man is a tree, with women as vines wrapped around him, assuming his shape. Where there is nothing upright, the vine creeps along the ground. Woman — like any human being — has agency but she needs a man’s guidance to balance her sometimes conflicting instincts, and without that guidance she flails. This is why as men, we are responsible for directing women toward decisions that do not destroy their lives and snuff out our common future in the literal crib.

Because if we don’t, we are enabling their behavior, letting them forget that a woman’s burden — normally a happy one — is to draw support from the same men whose child she bears. Fucks and bucks from the same men, which is why when they go Black, a natural process kicks in wherein men drive their unfaithful women to exile — literally or into internal exile, starting with hardened eyes on a crowded train.

It can be difficult, such as when you are a father faced with the choice of either the humiliation of being a race-cuckold or the pain of disowning your daughter. Gentlemen, don’t fool yourselves — there is no third way. That’s why to avoid the dilemma, if you have a daughter, raise her right and give her all your love and protection as she’s growing up. And at the right age, let her know that there are things you will not accept. Then if she turns her back on you, you are free to cut her off with a clean conscience. A commenter at Chateau Heartiste offered the words for a hypothetical conversation with one’s mature daughter before it’s too late:

if you betray your people by sharing your love with outsiders, they will reject you. the outsiders will also reject you, because you’re not one of them. you will be totally alone. nobody will want you. ever.

you will have no safety. no protection. no friends. no love.

And maybe tell her that yes, you get it, Black people have become America’s national mascot and you concede that it’s now bad form to criticize them. But then add: “silly girl, it’s Black women who are supposed to have babies with them.”

The Coward and the Mudshark

The Coward. The angel says to the young man: “You have nothing. I can give you a chance to have something. Would you like that?” The man nods his head. The angel says: “This evening at 8:00, be at the intersection you know well. Stand there and wait. Then run into the flames. I will protect you. It will burn but you will save a life.” The man asks: “And if I don’t go?” The angel says: “You have free choice. I know that you are afraid.”

The man looks away to think. The angel is gone. The young man opens a beer, sits down. Restlessly, the hours go by. The noisy television may as well be in orbit. It is 7:50. He gets up and goes to the refrigerator for another beer.

The Mudshark. The angel says to the young woman: “The men you wanted don’t want you, so you go to those other men.” She says: “But DeShawn is fun and he can be really sweet!” The angel’s face clouds over and he says quietly: “Burying your talent is a sin.” He continues: “You can have a baby like you, except with hope. Do you want that?” She nods her head apprehensively. The angel says: “This evening at 8:00, be at the intersection you know well. Stand there and wait. You won’t see me but I will be there.” The angel disappears.

Her cell phone buzzes. Hours later at 7:50 she listens to DeShawn’s video game in the other room, she herself alone on his mattress.

***

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Is the Mulatto the New Superman?

“But what if our child inherits my body and your brains?”
– Attributed to George Bernard Shaw, his riposte to a shapely dancer’s eugenically-flavored proposition.

The title of this post is in jest, but this post’s amicable spirit toward the long-time commenter and occasional pain-in-the-ass whose handle is an anagram of “Trickin” is in earnest. My man Trickin has been both lurking and commenting on the fringes of Alt-Right’s discussions for years and it’s high time to address his contrarian point of view.

To readers unfamiliar with him: Trickin describes himself as a forty-something former rock-n-roll scene journalist, now comfortably settled in the frozen mid-West. Most apropos our interests, he also notes that he is a biracial American man, the son of a Black father and a White mother, an outlier in that he grew up in a happy upper-middle-class home with both parents. So without further ado, let’s meet Trickin:

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Not Trickin

No, that’s not him, I just couldn’t resist because this is how I imagine him to appear, his protestations notwithstanding. I actually have no idea what he looks like.

The original impetus behind this post is a meme that society pushes, and one that Trickin himself occasionally advances with varying degrees of seriousness, namely the melding of the European mind with the African body through intermarriage as evolution’s direction toward a superior new man.

There is a time for dialectic on miscegenation that encompasses one’s feelings about it, as well as an objective analysis of its viability. But I am not doing that in this post. Rather, my aim in this post is to acknowledge and try to grok Trickin’s perspective on his biracial identity. He wrote something recently to poignant effect:

there is a sorta purely physical aesthetic imagining that comes back repeatedly; a sorta idealized figure that i’m sure is tied to my id and history —- a halfrican with appealing features that nonetheless cover the vastness of its essential being…. I have some haunts along this line of personal inquiry; such a figure just might not be a pure figment in terms of me and my past.

You may now be wondering about this idealized Halfrican physiognomy. Trickin may have already given us a hint. He has asserted — in earlier denials of the photo at the top of this post — that he looks similar to a former NBA player, pictured here:

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Trickin’s doppleganger?

That’s not a bad looking fellow. I have no reason to doubt Trickin’s claim and if true, then it would appear that he has drawn well in genetic card-dealing. In magnanimous detachment, I ventured to accept, as a thought experiment, the Mischling as an integral part of the continuum of our own communities.

But then I saw three things in the real world: a young White woman one evening, she walked lightly. The streetlamp’s glow kissed her flowing hair and caressed her shoulder. A birthday party full of White children playing. Their bright faces were God’s own joy. A White man, his solid face and clear eyes, and I knew that I am looking at the only man in this world whom I can trust.

There is the world of the European man, with its aspirational supremacy, and in that world there is little room for impure blood. And there is also, as confessed by Trickin, an idealized home aligned with his Mulatto identity, implicitly one with its own standards of purity. Like two free men who visit each other’s worlds but then part ways, the European returns home and so does the Halfrican head for his own.

But where does the biracial man go? The one who got the best of both heritages is free to enjoy this moment in history among Whites as an interesting stranger. But once he tires of Circe’s feast and is back at sea, he becomes like Odysseus but with no crew and with no Ithaca, on open water between the unreachable light of Europe and the wild call of Africa.

How To Help Prevent Mudsharking

Part-time blogger and full-time hell-raiser who goes by the pen name “Whorefinder” asks this serious question over at Chateau Heartiste:

I have some very young (under the age of 5) nieces. I am afraid they are growing up in this milieu of influence and may be affected by it. Their parents are decent, strong folk (both together), but I want to ensure they don’t grow up to be mudsharks. As the uncle, how do I do this? Remember, the kids’ TV shows these days are even more pushing mudsharking than not.

My short, glib answer: don’t let them get fat. And get rid of the TV.

For my long answer, read on.

The ultimate and irreversible repudiation of one’s identity is to have children with someone of another race. This is a particularly stinging repudiation when done by a woman, and it is especially true in the context of the state-engineered genocidal assault on White nations, from aggressive desegregation in the United States to the massive importing of immigrants into European homelands. Fifty years ago in homogeneous places, a White woman who crossed racial lines may have been benevolently dismissed as a rare curiosity. Today, she is an unwitting tool in a global war on our people.

There have been several good responses to Whorefinder’s question, all tailored to parents or other relatives whose daughters are, like in his question, of formative age. I provide excerpts from several commenters’ responses below, arranged by key themes. These scenarios assume a stable two-parent home, or at least the father actively involved in raising his daughters.

This post is written for fathers and adult male relatives of child and pre-teen girls and it focuses on the daughter, granddaughter, or niece developing a healthy sense of identity before she matures. Advice regarding teenage girls and young women is a separate discussion.

1. The Fundamentals: Cultivate a Positive Cultural Identity

This first piece of advice to Whorefinder, offered by reliably excellent commenter Carlos Danger, is good to lead things off with because it hits on the fundamentals — transmit a positive identity to your child through storytelling:

Read to them. Read them the great stories you should have had read to you and discuss the stories with them.

The dominant cultural institutions in Western countries have all but openly declared war on you. To live functionally, you have to keep an in mala fide relationship with them, unlike if, say, you had a country of your own. You have a legitimate racial, cultural, religious, and ethnic heritage, which is your child’s birthright and a basis for his or her ability to walk through life confidently and live meaningfully. But in a hostile, nihilistic environment, acculturation of your children is up to you, and reading — storytelling — is one of the most common ways of passing on your ancestral identity.

Read them classic Brothers Grimm fairytales, which will validate the child’s instinctive feelings of prudence in a chaotic world. Greek mythology has perfect allegories for human nature and it teaches courage. I own a thick, beautifully illustrated kids’ edition of major myths that I recommend, Usborne Illustrated Stories from the Greek Myths, 2011 ed. If you are American, also read them children’s stories about the 1776  War of Independence or about frontier settlers. If you are of another nationality, read them your country’s myths.

At your public libraries, look for books published before 2000 or so. Newer books will be infused with politically correct revisionism and illustrations will invariably juxtapose characters of different races, including the ubiquitous White girl with a Black boy. (Aside: be alert for homo-bombs. I once borrowed a nicely illustrated new book about two friends who go adventuring, and BOOM! they suddenly discover that they are in love and on the next page they explicitly marry each other.)

As with everything else involving subtle education, keep the reading light and fun. A heavy-handed or didactic approach is counterproductive. One serious book for three funny or light ones.

2. The Father as Bedrock Figure

On to other commenters’ responses to Whorefinder’s question. Philomathean writes:

The Father must be a psychologically strong man who knows who he is and where he comes from. If he lets his daughters watch TV he must be a formidable counterbalance to its lies.

This is the foundation on which everything else rests. When a woman miscegenates, she overcomes her feminine imperative to genetic hygiene. Her willingness to take that leap into darkness (heh) is driven by her dissatisfaction with men of her own race. Her negative judgment of her own men may or may not be those men’s actual fault in an objective sense but subjectively, that’s her world. Her father is her archetype of the masculine ideal and as such represents either a model of what she embraces or what she rejects.

A strong father also keeps a girl grounded and keeps her from making psyche-damaging mistakes.

3. Don’t AMOG Your Own Case

Salesmanship is key. On a road trip in my twenties, a friend and I stopped at a fast food restaurant in western Kentucky and I flirted with the pretty cashier. My travel companion fancied himself an upstart and in an out-of-character display of cock-blockery, tried to interject with clumsy negs directed at yours truly while she and I talked and eye-fucked each other, completely ignoring him. Back in the car, he sheepishly says to me “You know, I think that the more I babbled, the better I was making you look.” I laughed “Yeah, you were helping me out a lot, thanks man!”

Don’t let your babbling make your adversary look good. Reader Balmung writes:

Above all, you must make sure you are appropriately subtle about your goals, you don’t want to be the crazy uncle at Thanksgiving that rants about Jews and niggers non stop.

This next point by commenter Regular John is related to the previous one:

Kids don’t care about hatefacts and who is or isn’t dangerous. They know who is more likely to be violent. They care about what is cool.

With older girls, teenagers in particular, the worst possible thing you can do is bore them with crime statistics or excite them with stories of abandonment and violence. Chicks dig the Bad Seed.

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The Bad Seed

Philomathean also adds:

Avoid branding nogs as subhuman scum in front of them. Your nieces are female and it’s nearly impossible for them to abandon their compassion reflex, particularly when every cultural organ is arrayed against such vulgarity.

Good point. If you have to get into HateFacts, slyly refer to astronomical rates of venereal diseases among blacks. But better yet, take her to Walmart to get a good look at the walking-dead fat White single moms with mixed-race kids.

Hostile commenter The Spirit Within offers a related note of caution:

Then just wait til she meets her first middle-class black guy, probably at college. “Oh my God, you’re so nice, you’re not an animal like my dad says, what was he thinking, I can’t even lulz…” Hearts in the eyes, and it’s game over for your agenda at that point.

Eye on the prize: help your daughter develop a positive cultural identity. With that in place, there is little need to tear others down, beyond age-appropriate, smartly delivered common-sense advice.

4. Keep It Natural — Trust Yourself, Trust Your Child

Reader Corvo below ties in a tactically sound way of building identity boundaries between Us and Them, without which a human being reels through life like leaves in the wind:

I don’t rant, but I don’t spare the sarcastic/negative real-talk comments about blacks in everyday conversation with the family, whether I’m talking to her or to another adult in front of her and my other kids. I actually think that one of the most important benefits of having race-real family and friends is the subtle but constant pro-White attitude that underpins most mealtime conversations … times when the kids are halfway listening to their elders talk about current events or something else they don’t quite fully understand, but get the gist of: White is “ours,” good, safe, advanced, accomplished … black and “others” are dangerous, dirty, lazy, etc.

Left to themselves, kids develop a healthy sense of identity, but as mentioned above, you are in a struggle with a hostile institutions, public and private, for your child’s soul. Corvo then underscores that point:

By default, I think most White kids, boys and girls, will grow up to be pro-White if they are not corrupted/brainwashed into being otherwise. So, given that, the fundamental thing is keeping out the negative influences (mostly media and pop “culture”) and trying to find better substitutes.

Finally, the following take on “nature,” an outside-the-box practical recommendation by Balmung, is very good:

One more thing, encourage them to appreciate nature, maybe invite the family along on camping trips? At the risk of sounding new age, children who are immersed in nature can be partially immunized to mass society lies.

We camp every year, getting together with three other families with children of similar age to ours. Not many kids today know the experience of waking up to a massive thunderstorm in the middle of the night with lighting flashes searing through the tent, rain pounding, and thunder rumbling like you’ll never hear it rumble from inside a suburban home. And startled but reassured that mom and dad aren’t afraid, calmly listening to the sounds of the storm.

In addition to camping, there is gardening, as well as 4H clubs where kids work with farm animals. Spend weekends at farm bed & breakfasts or if you are lucky enough to have family out in the country, let your daughter stay with them regularly.

5. Listen to Your Child 

Stated briefly: listen to your kid. She wants to tell you exciting things that are not related to Greek myths or identitarian struggles. Don’t lose sight of that. She is not an empty vessel for you to fill but an active little brain that concocts wild stories she wants you to hear about. Talk with her, ask her questions about her imaginary worlds. When you actively listen, she bonds with you and learns to trust you. If you shut her out (you may not even realize you are doing that), she will grow to find you remote at best, indifferent to her well-being at worst.

6. My Own Advice to Whorefinder

Finally, I offered my own impromptu response to Whorefinder in that comment thread as follows, with minor revisions here:

As an uncle, there is not much you can do directly. Do you have a good relationship with the father and can talk with him candidly? I’d so, broach the subject with him.

It really all hinges on him. Immaterially, if the girls respect him, he is near-clear of mudsharking risk. He also has to imbue them with a positive identity so that the girls value who they are, rather than seeing themselves as lower-case whites who seek an identity among Others.

Materially, he needs to keep them away from unchecked influence of pop culture and public schools. No TV at home. Do all he can to give them good peer groups.

As an uncle, you can subtly tool “lifestyle losers” in age-appropriate ways. Also, foster in them a sense that they have a protective extended family (you).

7. Closing Words and Coda

Miscegenation brought about by the daughter’s lack of strong cultural identity doesn’t just lead to an existential abyss of having grandchildren who look nothing like you, sired by a male who despises you, and who grow up to regard you with contempt. It also brings on the soul-killing sadness of watching your adult daughter degenerate in a thousand little ways, reminding you of your failure every time she hits you up for money, this time because she can’t pay her car registration renewal stickers.

Rejection of one’s race or culture is also not limited to mixing with blacks. You may recall news from April 2014 about two pretty Bosnian teenage girls residing in Austria running off to Syria to join ISIS. One of them, the 17-year-old Samra Kesinovic, is now believed to have been beaten to death while attempting to flee her new comrades.

If you are a father or another relative of a young White girl, the odds that she stays true to her race are still on your side. Psychologically healthy White people are drawn to other Whites. Intermarriage rates for White women are miniscule and according to the OK Cupid study from a few years ago — and anecdotal evidence — so is interracial dating among attractive, smart young White women.

All that said, sometimes there’s not a damn thing you can do. She could be a congenital headcase, or she can baloon up to monstrous obesity despite your best efforts, and end up a mudshark. But you greatly improve your odds of her having White children and living with dignity if you as a father, or to a limited extent as another male relative, are a central part of her life during her most impressionable years.

Three generations ago, fathers could afford to be remote protectors and providers because robust faith, extended family, and community were there to nurture a child’s identity and sense of purpose. But we are now atomized and under cultural and demographic assault on all fronts. The modern White father can no longer be uninvolved in his daughter’s emotional and intellectual development. He is the only thing that stands between her and the malevolent, child-destroying maw of moloch America.

All your life all you asked
When is your Daddy gonna talk to you
But we’re living in another world
Tryin’ to get your message through

No one heard a single word you said
They should have seen it in your eyes
What was going around your head

Oh, she’s a little runaway
Daddy’s girl learned fast
All those things she couldn’t say
Ooh, she’s a little runaway

You know she likes the lights
At night on the neon Broadway signs
And she don’t really mind
Its only love she hoped to find

– Bon Jovi, “Little Runaway”