In this culture little white boys cry while little girls don’t. It is a shock to see this happen. But then is exposes something unexpected. A truth to the light of day. Little boys are put in an impossible position of not being able to express themselves as males where in a feminized world little girls have no restrictions. It has become a bygone appreciation in this culture to celebrate masculinity as an inherent virtue. In fact it has been demonized. Violence is accepted as a form of ethnic self-expression for both sexes. But is considered taboo for the most excluded segment of anyone of white Aryan Christian European heritage. The dogma taught being that they are most responsible for all the social ills of the current world. The actual historical truth suppressed being the exact opposite. Western society allowing itself to be overwhelmed by the fact of an internal cultural killer virus superficially referred to at ground level as organized Judaism. The cloistered fact of same violating the convenient conception of labels suggesting old rivals so much as covert alliances of several ‘desert based’ religious philosophies that stretch back literal eons. The serum distorting the natural inclinations of male and female in terms of producing healthy intellectual savvy healthy generations being amorphously termed as Liberalism or Political Correctness. Essentially crafty programs that have been carefully devised to program the host population from cradle to grave into self-destructive mindsets and self-defeating actions. The equivalent of gaining poser over the most important and influential centers of control over society and dissolving same much in the manner that an organism is devoured slowing being bundled up in a web by an arachnid. Toxic notions bombarding the culture incessantly through the destruction of the minds of the young with insidious half-truths that invert the perspectives in a manner characterized by authors like George (Blair) Orwell. We of the most sullied demographic are in a war for out own survival with people that nestle too comfortably among us that seek out annihilation.
The knee jerk reaction is too call this absurd of course. Even to suggest such a theory in current society being termed unacceptable. That in itself is the most telling clue. If you wish to find out an inescapable truth then start with the actions of those who anyone is not allowed to question as to their culpability for any untoward action. The penalty that the questioner faces of course is an instant form of societal enforced exile. The reason for the fear of same being so prevalent in European heritage whites being that the sledge hammer of the popular Liberal dominated media constantly fashions scenarios that offer only total destruction through negative branding of any personage that does so. Like any other long lost empire of old gone senile through its own decadence the United States has submitted itself to its own destruction by falling prey to those who would subvert it through guile. At one time without he help of mass technology literally building a false narrative upon a well-crafted a false persona taken from a time of two totally unnecessary world wars that only served to destroy the best elements of Western culture. Then replacing them with moral equivalencies that only serve to hasten a final and complete genocide of anything ‘white’. The most absurd part of this unthinkable crime being that the key element being the enfranchisement of dogmatically infertile ‘white’ females as the most dominate gatekeepers encouraged by false notions of social victimization. The European part of the species doomed to extinction because what was once termed as ‘the weaker sex’ has become its own worst enemy. Whites are caught in a mile of commercially funded media that is total toxic garbage. They send their children to schools that discard traditional topics promoting functionally self-survival and replace them with this media harangue that elevates the lowest common denominators of society as a model of exemplary behavior.
This is by no stretch of the imagination an accidental situation some of unintended consequences as one might inadvertently mix two substances unadvisedly together to create a poison. Take any given segment of key element of this society in Western countries and find that it has at best been sublimated to the goals of an organized sect that uses the reigning international corporate hegemony as an infallible lever. All one has to do is examine the system of finance that allows this segment to make their wealth out of thin air from the ever increasing sweat of all portions of society that are made to work ever harder to get ever less. A system where the governments of every country on earth are connected by a single system of commerce based upon unsecured debt. The lender merely creating a piece of paper called a contract where the debtor promises to pay future wages in order to get credit from the company store. The role of same eventually becoming a small ruling elite that keep and iron grip on the common people through a government that enforces this cooperate hegemony without exception passing wealth upward and implementing further duress upon the have nots to squeeze them even more. All the while indoctrinating them with a totally inverted viewpoint of the would where they are led to believe that those of their own that resist this tyranny are to blame for it. The eventual goal of this world system being to completely segment all cultures and make them slaves through an interdependence that defiles their national and cultural independence. One group ever encouraged to be spiteful and envious of the other during an interim period as they destroy their own cultures through social and physical attrition. Not just a destruction of the European segment but eventually of every other segment into an ever willing population of domesticated sheep having no defining rebellious traits that would interfere with their own planned use and eventual destruction. Take the analogy of Orwell’s world and put Caligula at the helm and find the perfect analogy for the world of tomorrow if it is allowed to continue as ti currently seems to be.
Nothing. No motivation to speak of. The day was nearing the expected transition. Perhaps the hundred millionth one that he had failed to notice? So much much that was new to him as his eyes traced the fleeting direct illumination of the Sun. The clouds passing slowly like derelict prison hulks spewing fractals of cotton candy. The light streaming now like a puncture wound through rays of evening mist. Magnificence blocking the shadows deepening quickly bringing on drama to the otherwise mundane. He held out his hand extending a forefinger to trace the path of the rapidly departing Sun, its chariot galloping West. Struck like an aging toddler reborn back to the previous wonders of childhood yet again.
A solitary soul in a land of vague familiarity. So many hostile stares of young strangers taken aback. “Am I still here?“, he silently choked out in awe of their sour expressions. “Why haven’t you hurried up and got down to the business of dying?“, their malicious glares all seemed to say in an impatient unison. Same places remaining. But not how they had formerly had been. The narrative an accurate voice of family re-pagination. Inner peace disturbed by an unwarranted intrusion of the same old crowd of the impatient. “The world is no longer mine?” Something no longer of my own creation. Something no longer my fault. At least I am not living still in the bloom of accomplishments of a faraway long ago precocious youth. The crack int he world of their self-ascribed fantasy is what angers these self-important immortals. Nothing is more motivating than the fiction of eternal perfection remodeled to reveal a reality of unstoppable chaos! When abandoned by electricity the facts of one’s lack to compensate are too overwhelming to bear.
Soap opera bitches proclaiming, “The third successive decade of endless self-empowerment!” Resonating freely upon all the misplaced holiday’s TV network’s across the land. Is it possible to imagine a real friendship with a female in the current era? Better she run off with my assets as is now the custom. The current era won’t tolerate it. No overt fraternization! Their message running out of accompanying ‘bread and circuses’ to sell it before the impending collapse of society becomes too painfully imminent. All that is planned to be left for the male of the species is to joust imaginary dragons on his X-Box. And for all the women to have all the cartoon men of their dreams to mercilessly berate but still find all of them magically submitting themselves to even more abuse. The parental duty of organized defecation. Essentially the scripted version of the genocide of the modern European. Once the most favored demographic holding the most popularized products un-sellable. Now fools with beanies, the brims turned backwards. All the once great heroes now gone waiting for their few admirers to die off.
Were everything replaced with something absolutely brand new, the absence of the old equivalents still weigh one down. Museums spouting ‘heritage’ now simply categorical homages to older forms of consumerism and consumption. Whenever suddenly ‘over-exposed‘, women grabbing the own breasts not out of propriety but in embarrassment of fostering disappointment. Modern imagery no longer prone to accidents. And the possibility of being privy to creativity because of same gone forever. The most perfect of women incapable of procreation like any other damned long extinct species. There should be a billboard on every street corner, “FUCK UTOPIA!” The last thing in this universe a man needs is a, “Strong Independent Woman!” No more than his opposite needs those same dubious qualities from him. Those kings and queens of long lost empires that never existed outside the fancy of a terminally perverted mind. “Nice guys No Longer Wanted!” Just an inexhaustible universe of lamentable evil pricks that no ones care one way or another if they die.
It is. Like time past yet quiet. And I am alone now. Totally so. The Sun escapes the clouds stretching forth in the latter part of the afternoon ahead of the approaching dusk. It’s brilliance brightens this painfully empty room full and filled too high with a former life’s manifestation of passing memory. Of experiences many and brief with those now finally departed. Dust no longer of a lineage their wanting presence. The shadows are too deep reaching down into that insatiable emotion that I wish hide. Age has been the curse of bitter sorrow. The vows of youth all betrayed.
So many faces long gone from exact representation within and swept into the past. And it will not stop its slow slide into oblivion until I along with all the others are long gone. I am blinded by the last attempts of this Sun to imitate a suggestion of midday. The shadows soften behind the intensity of glare blinding me and yet the plethora of contents of this room have become merely so. They have lost the inertia of their mental continuum and are merely things. Suggesting many others that have disappeared years and eons before them. Objects that now belong to me but are not mine to give. The fruit of my father’s life’s work and the sore pitiful remnants of his tenuous existence. And that of my mother’s endless creativity expressed through its arrangement. Compositions in life as they were upon paper and canvas. Keepsakes that grow ever more dusty, old and inert. Unable to emote. Too late I realize that those human beings that brought them here no longer inhabit them. These artifacts are just dead dumb things that have no name. Things that I have stumbled into along the way to this persisting point in time. I wait for a familiar rustle of another. But nothing. The quiet Sun reaches into my heart with its waning warmth finding only a nervous cold. The ether swims about me. That familiar choking tension significant of fear and regret. Proof that I have been left finally alone at long last.
This unconscious vigil is useless. The old arrangements that I adhere to. The reverence in proper placement of these ritual objects that I bestow in the keeping of them all around me being dreadfully misplaced. The Sun is dying for another day. Is this what it is to mourn? To despise your own blockheaded foolishness each evening as the minutes tick away into insignificance and an accumulation of useless years of them meticulously stacked and sorted? What is left to offer? It is all long spent now. The inheritance squandered. The old fantasies dissipated into thin air. Its truth now inescapable. A firing squad could bring more comfort than this empty knowledge of all this! Where I finally am not. To health to just pass on. Condemned to this lonely cavern where veiled sorrow sucks the life out of one. How much longer? Only charred ashes nearly an hour’s drive behind faux stone in a communal crypt. The simile of the morning of one for the other now compounded with interest by its example. Something that though guilty, I refuse to follow. Escape in the most ruthless of ways. Silent and trying to suppress. The most horrible of tortures! To be buried alive within yourself!
The light fails around me and the room becomes dim. My failing vision scans across the horizon of pictures and faces and objects once revered within of their ceremonial cabinets surrounding cluttered tables and permanently emptied chairs. This place maintained to house ghosts that refuse to make their presence known. Phalanxes of fading photographs lined up of trivial lost instants in time manifested into gold. The crutch of inconvenient recollection. A brief mental outline of their import. A memory of shared experience sandwiched within the last occasion of recollection colored with immediate loss. My own life let out of the hole in this balloon as if in slow motion. Item and incident. Chapter and verse. Each one discarded in a glance. Tossed in a hat like a deck of cards in casually useless hands. An unfamiliar hotel somewhere in a city where no one is known. Some say that all this is inert clay of a type that is dug out of the grave. Each night I dig a hole. But by morning it is filled in once again. I am drunk on my own regrets. I who never enjoyed success and had none o show those that I loved. A rat biting a human heart.
I dare not close my eyes for the light fails as the copper disk grazes the horizon. The empty sky above it neutral. Not beautiful nor dark. Just lackluster and threatening to give way. receding into nothingness. I fear that I am too full of memories that I can no longer share. Incidents that relate to no one else’s life that I care to know. Speaking French to the Indians. Tiny grim silhouettes on the distant horizon in the direction of where I once worked. Incidents blatantly similar in that instant of the moment taken in from another vantage point. Life is like the wind. Something that pushes past but that you cannot hold onto. Or dare not try. No smiles of satisfaction left for any incident. Only the present tense to confound one. I am the only thing that is alive now. A simile to my own metaphors. I light the lamp in the curio cabinet that is no longer lit. Its contents known to have once had meaning in both some significant event or at the moment of purchase? Strangers to me. I wonder to myself how long I will remain imprisoned? Enslaved to impossible hopes of summoning the life of the past and reawakening in it as if the present is just some wild enchanted fever struck dream. Perhaps that unquenchable rage within will begin to smash and destroy all these things? But still the ghosts will not come to haunt or hell. There in the dark, alone.
WEMBLEY ARENA – 05/22/2017 – 22:30 – Screams throughout the massive stadium! People existing ‘en masse’! The bomb did [not?] go off after two or possibly more booms when people began frantically exiting the arena. Various reports cannot be confirmed at this time! [Shh! But what if there was no bombs at all? Just another crisis actor jamboree?] Police, police in SWAT gear, police bomb squad trucks, but not a drop of real pavement bound blood or physical damage for the mind to ‘drink in‘?] Cordons and no go zones but nothing to really see? The supposed remote car cam CNN footage from a private source of a flash but so pathetically inept and fake! A dash of red stuff here and there but no chaotically bloodstained clothes upon the supposed walking wounded. Just immediate hearsay of an immediate and massive web echo chamber based pundits decrying how terrible it all is. “It’s the Arabs!” “It’s the immigrants!” “It’s Al Qaeda and ISIS!“, says the groundswell online of commentator’s! But where’s the beef! Where’s the blood of one-hundred victims on the landing or the sidewalk or a surrounding area of broken windows? Where is the footage from hundreds of street cameras or the structure’s allied surveillance equipment stationed evident within all the public areas of the arena building? Or anything like that at all? A few cherry picked crisis actor typed limp around wearing plastic foil blankets posing for pictures. Some are on the phone saying really nothing specific. But yet no real evidence of injuries. Crowds of people franticly leaving obviously freaked out . . . But no visible evidence of any real mayhem? False Flagged Again!
I am ANGRY! I’m sick of this crap! This IS a confirmation that, like some B grade movie from the nineteen-fifties where an alien life forms descend from parts unknown to replace the residents of a small town, the Internet is now totally a gov-op. The Internet has become a fully monitored and policed state sponsored echo chamber of late where the informationally deprived just go along with the most popular assumptions that are vogue in the headlines of the moment. The predetermined agenda of talking points for the day predominate all popular discussion. Detracting of course from more important topics that the public are not supposed to be concerned with. But! The populace of the Internet created world are expected to draw conveniently drafted conclusions along the lines of a heavily guided narrative that is always remains suspiciously the same scenario now as it was back then in the special op hoaxes of 911 and 711. [Of Newtown, San Bernadino, Virginia Tech, Boston Marathon, etc., etc., etc.!] Blind belief is for most people more powerful that any direct evidence or a paucity of the same! It no longer means anything if some source you know has said it. Or has acted like it might be true. “I heard it on the net from so and so!” “I’t all true GODDAM IT! But is it? What people see in the movies in the multiplex or on cable has more to say in terms of their personal construct of physical reality than actual palpable evidence of the same in their waking existence. What happens when the illusion of an online community is compromised by the notion that it all just might be manufactured and not real at all? The collective mind is tazed yet once again with a virtual mentally applied mass media cattle prod via the thought police special events Internet division of Tavistock! Treated just like the herd of cows and sheep that they have become! Oh no! There is no one around for you to believe in now! “Welcome to the double plus good reporting of Airstrip One brothers!” “Bend over and spread em’!”
How is it possible to carry a woman in your heart that perhaps you may be familiar with for so long a time but that you are assured that you will never ever really get close enough to intimately know? She is very beautiful. Someone whose personal attention in order to ensure their own appearance in order to maintain an inordinate level of sexual appeal to all males seems epic. Yet lives a quite little desperate life deep within? I wonder if this is what it means to be enchanted? There is something very sad about it as well? A sense of isolation that comes of more than just a fear of age. But of a bridge to keep her acceptable to the new society that she now lives within while keeping that same path open back to the old. A foot simultaneously planted in two worlds. A dilemma you say? Exactly.
The age of tolerance is dead on arrival. And now, as if it has been planned, and let me assure you that it has been scrupulously planned all along for many many years! The unstoppable meat grinder of violent chaos is currently scheduled to commence. Consider every legal document torn in perfectly half by an inability of all concerned parties to agree to be tolerant for the sake of true compromise. There is no longer any middle ground. Those who have long been the backbone have awakened from their coma. The new comers have taken hold and demand by virtue of their presence here alone that their own distant ways now predominate. The Devil behind the scenes knows human nature and that in the end it will out! And if you are lucky then you will be forgotten in these times. You will remain invisible in the same manner that the homeless are. But not for long. And I don’t mean to say that you and those you love will be safe. But just not a glaring target as first to be destroyed.
Respect for the ‘wacked out‘ notion of multi-ethnic is no longer a saving grace but a delayed fuse time bomb that is rapidly dissolving the former stability of society. One that too many publicly claims is the keynote of this Western land. But now too many ‘newcomers‘ openly claim they want to fundamentally change it, or destroy it to benefit what resembles them. They want to do what so many other previous now forgotten societies tried to do. Take over another larger foreign social unit because it seemed easy pickings. There is always less work involved in stealing the lawn furniture from one’s rich neighbor’s yard than finding the wherewithal in one’s own self to find employment suitable enough to amass resources to buy or build it! The question must be asked that if all these immigrants love the West so much then why don’t they stay at home and just change and evolve their own societies? Rather than come over to plunder resources that have been made too easily available to any and all? The most self-destructive policy ever devised by any historical national unit for reliable suicide. The answer hiding behind so many convenient excuses of victim-hood being that it is not in their underlying nature. That is the part that will go down the tubes when most will be unable to be assimilated and will deny the next generation the possibility of becoming so out of a fierce loyalty to what they left behind long ago.
Just because the rest of the world prefers to use an Apple I-Phone dos not infer any sense of lasting community or permanent cult based brotherhood. Everyone once carried a sword at once time in history. Then much later it was a gun. History has shown the results. An organism cannot live with two brains. Two purposes in mind. A country cannot survive permanently divided loyalties! It must come down eventually to a singular vision. This is the unfolding tragedy that we are all living through. The misapprehension that all of humanity is alike. It is not! To consider that it is possible to create a single type of Utopian individual through their eventual de-evolution is not only absurd but it is downright evil! For that is certainly the tyrannical mentality of slavery in its most cynical form. Diversity is not a milkshake but a form of respect following the age old adage of ‘live and let live‘. What one sees now is eventual mass genocide of one group for another and given the efficiency of technology, a possible and ultimate extinction of almost every other?
In this prison, they made you eat a really awful combination made of shredded regrown eyeball cells from some off-world creature that of itself was too terrible to look at lest you go made from the inability to ever sleep soundly again. Laying back in my bunk I could recall a time far past when some Hippies arrived at the North Avenue warehouse that a bunch of us had lived in as a loft. Some hippies had a arrived with a flatbed the center of which was neatly battened down with an eclectic combination of all their worldly goods. My neighbor of longstanding had been good friends even further back with the young silky blonde haired waif gone well into her forties. She spun a slow rambling tale the conclusion of which resulted in a hint that held an empty hand holding the proverbial pan out. I did not respond. But my father still alive at that time had dug deep in his own pocket unnecessarily. At least in my opinion. But that was his way after a long hard life as a child of the back alleys of the Depression. They could market their wares I thought. As I have down so many times before. And as I would find myself doing yet again several more times before fate had found me sequestered here.
I was teaching in a school for youngsters of 10 to 12 years in age myself decades past my associates. One young woman in her late twenties caught my interest of all the others. While prim and proper as one was likely to expect in such circumstances. Though it didn’t stop me from one day pulling her close upon my lap and encircling my arms about her. So swift was my play that she fell willingly into my embrace as if to catch herself from a fall. My lips the landing pad as I had intended and with no hesitation the two of us freely sloshing tongue and teeth. The propriety of the situation coming later of course for though there were no stunts in view the cameras scattered at brief intervals catching our hi-jinks. The conclusion of our encounter leaving her a bit flushed in the face. I had heard about those kinds of women whose bodies became fully flushed in passion. And it was to my loss that I did not have the opportunity to sometime shortly later discover more? It was more in line with my own fate that I would become waylaid by a young associate and his wife who generally running across each other’s paths on a fairly frequent daily early morning schedule. He invited me to his home just over on the next block and feeling caught by the duties accompanying good behavior graciously accepted. To my chagrin his wife had not quite risen for the day and I felt my presence was an unwarranted imposition. Young men being somewhat indifferent to the decor of such situations I found the most neutral part of the house to await her changing out of her flimsy nightgown into something less eye-catchingly flimsy.
The odd thing was that their hospitality was extended to include a rather informal display of local marksmanship with shotguns. I myself proposed with an example of same expressly for bird hunting of the 12 gauge variety. I began the feel a bit off kilter when I realized that though the artifact had been transported in two separate pieces, the shells that accompanied it were not for skeet but for more robust two-legged targets. The fact that they were shooting across the street towards another warehouse as opposed to a fully reinforced backstop made me uneasy. Worse yet was ahead when an overhead door was raised and the contestants were invited to shoot into a room stacked with liquor bottles. The idea being to hit the empties stacked in the midst of other rows or new merchandise. It was all the mischief of some foolhardy mind. But then another worry struck me as I had somehow overlooked the 9MM automatic that I was carrying about outside my home without a license. Somehow I knew I was tempting fate? The afternoon concluded with me upon a massive sand pile within a large half-barrel shaped containment structure crawling on my belly to catch site of something far at the back end of same. The day had descended into endless dares and other forms of spontaneous foolishness. Funny how when you have so much time on your hands and you are perpetually confined to a six by none universe what odd recollections arrive as if from nowhere to occupy your thoughts? Tale after tale of nonsensical anecdotes precluding you from obsessing for the hundred-millionth time on that other all too familiar tale that you tried every waking moment of existence to avoid reliving. The story of how you found yourself here to begin with. A tale that I an loath to recall and will not bother to tell if I can help it!
The Anaconda had caught him sleeping alone out in the bush. When he had awakened it had already had its coils tightly around his chest and legs. Whatever fear that had been madly exploding within upon the instant of awakening had subsided with what had let like the bursting of his rib cage and the collapse of all the organs within. The sinews of bone connected pure muscle power ever active after the initial horror. Now something worse was occurring. Four major prongs, two above and two below had impaled his shoulders while the blackness of a gigantic crushing grip had forced his head into a wet saliva ridden channel. He was being swallowed head first. His mind was caught in some slow motion fantasy wondering if this was simply an incredibly demented dream so true to life that he was incapable of waking from it. The function of his brain slowly descending to a strange sense of suppressed calm by virtue of a feeling of all the blood in his system being squeezed downward like a toothpaste tube towards his feet. His consciousness demoted to a twilight realm where he figured that death sat patiently upon the prow of its brace under a stormy sky waiting patiently for the agent of natural chaos to fill up all the seats. Was his own soul now an eternal captive within the universe of this fiendish thing that had caught him unawares. What further torments awaited him as he began to feel the outside of his head shoulders stinging from the internal digestive juices as the peristalsis of the creature’s ring of teeth and rhythmically contracted musculature gripped and pulled his enraptured corpus deeper within. He imagined the absurd sight of the head of the beast distended into an absurd all inclusive gaping smile gasping around the main bulk of his body seemingly choking it. The routine task of its life being the worst imaginable fear accomplished in his own. Was he now to disappear as a sentient entity as he slowly was engulfed and digested he wondered? His own torso was engaged in struggling on its own outside of this control. It was odd he thought how he had never fully reconciled it as something completely synonymous and under his full control in what was now the brevity of his existence. The sensation of a growing dissipation accompanied by a dizzying vertigo was detaching him from being the source of that sensation. The stinging had turned to burning as the local acid of the creatures insides was forcing itself into his eye sockets and ear channels. The white hot headache of human flesh being softened into a mushy solution preeminent beyond his own sense of rapidly diminishing contact and control of his corporal self. “This is it!“, some tiny vaguely familiar voice screamed in impotent anger swirling in an unaccustomed eddy somewhere deep within. He was being pulled down into the oblivion of a universal undertow. His mind at last subsumed within the coverlet of eternal darkness.