Category: No particular place to go
There’s nothing very surprising in Adam Curtis’ The Trap: What happened to our dreams of Freedom? compelling as it is.
While I’m in a holiday mood, and since we have focused on some rather dry material of late, I thought it might make a change to post something entirely frivolous but still, I hope, interesting to readers - the opening chapter of a story I will doubtless never attempt to buff-up, develop and title.
Tyler was already waiting for him on the first floor landing. “Couldn’t you have found somewhere anonymous,” Coulson quipped, throwing a gesture towards the cheap, utilitarian interior of a wholly unremarkable office building.
“To be content, add not to your possessions but subtract from your desires,” Tyler shot back, almost smiling.
They shook hands in desultory fashion. It had been a year since they were both stationed in London, during which Coulson had done a stint as liaison in Washington, then, briefly, at Nashashibi Street. Tyler, a devoted careerist, had worked his charm on other, older careerists at SIS and reaped the reward promotionally. Now he had been brought in to run this nominally MI5 show which, if it produced results, would earn the gratitude of people who mattered and who weren’t part of the pink maffia of British Intelligence.
“Any other friends here yet, my old fruit?” asked Coulson. It was exactly 6.00pm. He was not always so punctual or so polite.
“Oh indeed.” said Tyler caustically, “We are waiting for you,” He leaned over the gallery . “Right Jessop, lock the place down. No one and nothing in or out unless authorised by me. All personnel incommunicado.”
Seeing the puzzlement at such excess on Coulson’s face, he explained slowly and evenly, “There will be no leaks from this operation.”
It had been four months since the Chevening event. The initial clamour - the explosion of demands for an early arrest from all quarters of the Western political Establishment, the panic of the British Establishment, the wild press speculation, the riotous glee from the internet - had died away within the first three weeks. But the pressure from within “the intelligence community” was unrelenting. The world’s foremost banker and doyen of the powerful had been assassinated on Foreign & Commonwealth Office property, dying with a maraschino cherry and a 7.62mm M118 cartridge in his throat. The fatal shot had been fired from a distance of 600 metres across fields that, though open, were secured (in theory at least) by listening devices and other counter-measures. Yet the marksman - obviously highly-skilled, obviously aware of the ground - had obtained a firing position undetected, taken his shot, left nothing behind, no DNA, and made good his escape.
There was one low-resolution image of a motorcyclist captured at 7.49 pm on a garage forecourt video, heading south two miles from the scene. Enhancement revealed a rider in black helmet, jacket, trousers and boots on a bike that may have been a Honda CBF125. He was wearing a back-pack long enough, certainly, to accommodate a sniper’s rifle and tripod. No other camera recorded the mystery biker, and no sightings of him had been reported as a result of the public appeals.
It had quickly emerged that the security operation for the weekend party had been perfunctory at best. There had been no security review for two years. Nobody seemed to have considered the possibility that a hostile could penetrate the counter-measures. In consequence, a couple of pairs of DPG officers armed with night-vision and MP5s wondering about the estate was presumed quite sufficient for all eventualities.
Today I had an informative and occasionally bloody exchange with some rather vituperate drug-takers on a DT thread to an article by Brendan O’Neill. Brendan is only moonlighting at the Telegraph. His daytime job is editor of the left-wing mag, Spiked. He is one of a small band of liberal-left journalists who abuse the DT readership in various none-too-subtle ways. Today, Brendan was making a particularly vapid argument not only for the decriminalisation of cannabis but of all drugs. It certainly brought out the libertarian tendency.
Ever since I was a very young man first encountering people socially who took “illegal substances” I have found the breed to be very annoying. I don’t think I ever met one who was not wholly consumed by the fashions and fads of the times, or who really had both feet planted on the ground. Indeed, their personalities were as light as a feather. Now, I am sure that somewhere there must be many decent people who happened to smoke weed when they were young and impressionable, and perhaps still do from time to time. But I never met one.
What I did meet were socially needy people who had few inner resources, who liked novelty, who considered themselves “free” because they did this apparently daring thing, when all the evidence was that they did it because they were in chains. It meshed neatly with my then nascent understanding that you can’t live seriously if you are not psychologically serious, and the number of serious people I met in the daily rounds of a south London life circa 1970 were not exactly encouraging.
Well, all that was a very long time ago, and I haven’t given it a great deal of thought since. But it all came flooding back as I read the “wisdom” of the attenuated specimens posting on the thread. I found myself arriving at the same conclusion: if a man gives himself and his brain chemistry up to some street drug he has already proven that he is too weak and suggestible to make responsible choices. The proper course for public policy cannot be legalisation until a real degree of personal psychological stability and self-knowledge obtains.
Of course, all these druggy creatures on the O’Neill thread were libertarians, and so they were perfectly convinced of their own “sovereign will”. They had not the slightest inkling that they are incomplete and shallow men. One of them informed me:
He did not reply. They never do if it gets difficult.
Governments agonise over what to do about the drugs issue. They should forget that. It isn’t drugs that cause the drug-taking. It’s the kind of human personalities we are producing.
ASIAN COGNITIVE ELITES SOLVE THE UK HOUSING CRISIS WITH THE MUMBAI MODEL
There has been some press coverage at last of the ingenius and rather profitable solution to the housing crisis conceived by our dusky-skinned, cognitively elite fellow countrymen. What was that you said? Did the Subcogs conceive the housing crisis or the solution to it? Ah ... erm ... both. I did not make a grammatical error, you see.
Give it time and no one will know that’s not normal…
NO THREATS, NO INCITEMENT BUT JAILTIME JUST THE SAME
Glasgow is an uncompromising place, and its football fans have a long tradition of uncompromising hostility across the sectarian line that divides Rangers and Celtic. But even there the thaumaturgists of the politically correct courts are visiting the Pax Judaica upon the warring factions.
As a result of the CMS article I received a request from Greg Johnson for an interview. In turn, I requested a QA format because that allows me to think about my replies at leisure, and avoid a few of those inevitable foot-in-mouth moments. Greg sent the first question this evening, to which I have replied as below. I am going to build up the interview on this post, as we progress with it.
Question 1: Have you had any dealings with William Regnery? If so, what transpired?
In the Anglosphere the thinking was, on one hand, essentially religious, meshing flawlessly with the 20th century fictions of a European spirit of race and mythic destiny, and, on the other, empirical, producing stone-cold certainties about human bio-diversity, sociobiology, gene interests, and so on. It was (and is) a barren coupling. I wanted to find some basis for reconciling the unreconcilable ... science and philosophy, truth and beauty, the New World and the Old, because then we might have a foundation on which others could build intellectually. And we might, if we were lucky, come into possession not just of a reactionary critique of liberalism à la de Benoist but something shattering, something epochal and renewing.
by Karl LaForce
Because I wanted to know, I spent about 6 hours running down the basic facts on as many black serial killers as I could find. I limited the list to the USA starting in 1900. I came up with more than 30.
Recently, in correspondence with GW, Graham Lister and CaptainChaos, LJ Barnes demanded we drop the tedious, pseudo-intellectual wank, and ordered that we:
In compliance, I decided to write about the rules of Politics as I understand them. In paticular, the golden rule of Political communication. Politics is not merely running for a seat in government, Political action is whenever one needs to persuade another. Politics is by definition an exchange between people where one attempts to present an idea of authority to be accepted by all, or the majority. This is a most basic rule, but it’s underlying truth lends it self-operating wisdo. All Western politicians within the Democratic/Parliamentary system, whether you love or hate them, attained majority power with a variation of this rule.
For explication, I will present the Rule in three parts:
1) People care about subjects which benefit them and are perceived to be just.
A majorities primary concern is always material subsistence, followed by the need to be free of anxiety towards their livelihood. The successful nationalist frames all arguments in terms of positive benefits to the listener and his livelihood, no matter the subject, with positive outcomes and conclusions of economy and natural justice. Many nationalists are in the habit of the exact opposite, framing the arguments in terms of negative effects and the experience of injustice. As a result, people do not give a shit. Framing one’s policy goals on beneficial outcomes for the subject, means even if they disagree, they will always care very much.
2) For authority to be functional, it must serve those who submit to it. Anything of value is determined by function alone.
Politicians frame the argument towards the audience. This is why they promise this, that and the opposite at different times of the day. But the promises they make are not the value in the equation, just the inducement…value is framed around the functions they require authority to develop. This is how successful politicians elicit devotion towards their authority, despite disdain for their policies. Example of this are Churchill, Lenin, Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin, Mao, etc.
Therefore, show the result intended, but the path that benefits the majority interests. Only present the degree of ways and means that allows one to acommodate the audiences interests without a great degree of inconsistency. How to manage this is via the third part:
3) Keep It Simple Stupid
The secret weapon. The KISS principal causes friends to overestimate, and one’s enemies to underestimate the strength and wisdom of a speaker. Escalating a debate into science, philosophy or genetics is asking to disappear into a swamp of misconception. Couple this with rule 1, (keep it positive, beneficial,) and simple…and cause a dramatic impact.
I recall a Professor who on first appearance seemed a oaf ... until he began to lecture. The contrast was such that he became everyone’s favorite and most loved lecturer - so much so that one’s first impression of other Professors who were well attired and fluent communicators turned from a good impression to suspicion that they were inwardly dull and shallow. Allow an audience to develop it’s own misconceptions and exploit those misconceptions.
Finale: The purpose of this short article is to present a challenge to the reader to take their favorite social or economic policy; ie. deporting immigrants, public execution of immigration officials + Labour Party members, introducing hemisphere-wide right of personal combat, eugenics programs to diminish occurrence of the ‘faith gene’, etc, and reformulate it within the context of the rules of politics. It is advised one start by conceiving one’s policy goals in the simplest manner, then identify the functions required, and how to present these functions in a simple yet oblique manner that can be tailored towards the audience. Reframe your points towards positive outcomes for any audience. And, lastly, determine how to frame one’s policy goals to dovetail with the underlying anxiety of an audience concerning their livelihood.
Insights are appreciated. Politics is not exact science, but art ... and relies on the skills developed by its members.
“The less the people know about how sausages and laws are made, the better they sleep in the night.”
by Alexander Baron
Washington - FamilyRadio, an American-based Christian radio station, has predicted the world will end May 21, 2011. This article argues their chronology is wrong, but probably by less than a hundred years.
The end of the world? Not literally, but unless our leaders change course drastically and soon, there are children alive today who will undoubtedly see the end of civilisation as we know it – consider the evidence. First there is Professor Albert Bartlett’s doom-mongering lecture – classic and awesome in equal measure - Arithmetic, Population And Energy. This can be found all over the Internet in video, audio and text formats – the latter in French and Spanish as well as English. A video version was uploaded to Youtube in 8 parts with the modest but terrifyingly accurate title The Most IMPORTANT Video You’ll Ever See.
by Alexander Baron
This is a sort of supplement to my essay Oscar Wilde: The Straight Truth About A “Gay” Icon that was published here last month. There are two further points I would like to make: one relating to the decadence of Wilde, the other about the decadence of modern society. To take the first point first; as I pointed out, after Wilde withdrew from the criminal libel prosecution, Lord Queensberry bankrupted him. Mostly it is taken for granted that but for this, Wilde would have been able to keep his head above water. This is not necessarily the case.
According to the Law Report for August 26, 1895 which was published in The Times the following day, at a first meeting of his creditors, Wilde was said to have unsecured liabilities of £2,676 and partly secured debts of £915.
His assets were primarily the royalties on his “literary works” and a “life policy”. He declared his income from these as not less than £2,000 per annum; he had 10% of the gross weekly receipts from his play The Importance Of Being Earnest - gross, not net - and 15% over that.
The bill for his aborted criminal libel action was £677, an enormous sum in those days, but nowhere near as large as his income; according to the Times, “it appeared that the debtor had been insolvent for some time past”.
Where I share the thoughts that flicker through my mind while relaxing in the evening study; my favorite herbal tea to one side and a box of morsels on the other as the situation requires. This is my form of meditation and I find it to be much more pleasurable than the more well-known ascetic forms, even if they do intermittently engender an elevation of consciousness. What the East didn’t realize is that a refined taste for tea and chocolates has its own sense of elevation, which is both more satisfying and reliable.
One morsel down.
by Alexander Baron
The recent announcement by William Hague, David Cameron’s Foreign Secretary, that he had shared a hotel bedroom with his researcher but that he was most definitely not homosexual came as no surprise to the most scurrilous gossip I know – my solicitor. Indeed, he told me before Hague married that he was “gay” – not my word. But he also said the same thing about Gordon Brown. I was particularly intrigued by this, and asked him on what evidence he made this defamatory claim. The main evidence was that Brown was over forty and unmarried, to which I replied that I was over forty and unmarried, and told him that if he were ever to cast such aspersions on me, I’d hit him with my handbag.
Subsequently, Gordon Brown married, but that didn’t satisfy him; it had to be a lavender marriage.
Rumours and scurrilous gossip of this nature abound, not just about politicians but about anyone who is famous – deserving or not – rich, influential, you name it, there are no real criteria anymore, not in the age of the Internet.
There was a similar rumour about Tony Blair many years ago, that he had been arrested for importuning in a public toilet, was charged, appeared at Bow Street Magistrates’ Court, fined £500, and walked away. Nobody realised who he was because somehow he managed to use the name Charles Lynton. This story was so durable that even one of Britain’s leading Libertarians – whom I will not name – fell for it.
In the United States, even those holding high office – including the highest office – are nor immune from this sort of nonsense. Although Slick Willy was well and truly caught with his trousers down by virtue of the sordid tale of the semen stained dress, there is really no evidence that he was a serial rapist, as has been touted by some.
The current inhabitant of the White House has been subjected to similarly scandalous charges. In 2008, a white homosexual named Larry Sinclair came forward and claimed to have performed oral sex on then Senator Obama in the back of a limousine, and also that Obama had supplied him with cocaine. Sinclair was very precise about the date and location, and even made these allegations in a press conference at the National Press Club, Washington.
Videos of this conference and others of Sinclair can be found all over the Internet. The fact that neither Hillary Clinton nor John McCain alluded to Sinclair during the Presidential race is, I think, the only comment that needs to be made on their veracity.
But what is tradition to me?
A fat, middle-aged white man justifying how his personal hobby of reading Latin and Greek makes him an oracle of higher wisdom and a good candidate for Founding Mandarin of a reborn white civilization.
A similarly fat, similarly biblio-erotically inclined individual who snoots and scoffs at every normal white person in a permanent game of oneupmanship. His love of the past kept him habitually out of our present, where white people are playing sports, listening to heavy metal, being fallible, and living lives in 2010.
A man who takes a knowledge of Tertullian and Tacitus to be some keystone of Nordic survival.
A man who can look at the whole confused hodge-podge of our past, claim ownership, and say: “see that thing there, that massive blob of basically everything that happened before 1945? That is our salvation. Imitating that is our salvation. Instead of saying “imitating” I say “returning to”. Oh no, Sally, its not quite that simple. He will have rarified his argument. It was the years between 1437 and 1489 where we really hit our stride. No doubt it was also because of “Factor X”.
A man for whom mental models of the past are more real than the life that pulses all around him. A man who wants to step away from our modern confusion in thought, taking shelter from it, and retreat into a classical past that didn’t exist for the people who lived in it. The classical past as reconstructed from two hundred texts authored by the top cognitive 0.0001% of that society and passed through his own subjective prism - he will of course have his favorites, but it’s all part of “the blob” so its OK.
A man who believes that this knowledge puts him above those who start businesses, become engineers, and aren’t past-hungry and escapist, because it provides him with clues about “how to build successful societies” and “what are the cornerstones of virtue”.
Meanwhile the whole thing that is being described, beyond some interesting political theory, social dynamics, individual psychology, and the classical foundations of science - the whole big blob is basically white sociobiology across time, skinned and mounted on display for the world. Yeah - white society - that did tend to work pretty well.
Tradition means you get to search forever through the historical dumpster trying to find “the key” of the one trend, the one cultural practice, the one thing that you can analyze out from the rest of the blob and become an advocate for. Oh, it was because they were pious. Except when they weren’t. It was because they weren’t promiscuous. Except those that were. It was because they ... etc, etc.
When a traditionalist puts up his pantheon of clay gods and tries to warp every available worldview into subordination to these dieties he’s piggybacking and parasitizing off of white success like everyone else. Only now because he is the mandarin responsible for parsing the discourse of these dead civilizations, he acquires a special status. It’s like affirmative action for fat, bookish geezers. Three million more-or-less-white Romans can build a successful civilization? Well, let me spend my life reading the output of their smart fraction to see why that society might have succeeded.
White men who create compelling realities in the present: be warned. Unless you follow the blueprint laid down by Mr. Corn-Beef-Sandwich-Sitting-In-The-Library-For-Two-Hours, oops ... I mean our civilizational forebears ... everything is going to become chaos. Let’s defer to whomever Corn Beef spent the last five years reading, because the blob is so precious, he has distilled its magic into a usable form.
That’s why I don’t like tradition and its advocates.
Here’s a comment which has blossomed into a full-fledged blog post!
Notus Wind wrote:
Morality is not the basis for a social movement. It is a way to control people based on shapes that appear on the frontiers of our knowledge. New knowledge immediately overturns previously existing moral structures, if anyone was keeping score of these ghostly entities, their carcasses are strewn all over every path of knowledge acquisition like the molted exoskeletons of insects.
Social morality is the imposition of a ‘should’ without the understanding of an ‘is’ - one party telling another to do something on the basis of its own authority, not of any understanding. If you didn’t know what an electric socket was, and I told you not to stick a fork in there, but I’m not telling you why - that is what traditional morality has been. No explanation forthcoming, no free choice involved, authority cited as justification. If I convey to you knowledge that its an electric socket, then your choice not to stick a fork in it becomes strategic - and no longer moral.
The extent to which I understand what is going on, to that extent I can act strategically. To the extent that I don’t understand what is going on and have to borrow and imitate from other people, is the extent that I am being ‘moral’.
Prometheus awoke from a terrible dream one night – a dream of a war in heaven. In his vision, the gods were defeated, their powers taken from them, and their palaces and gardens destroyed. The gods themselves had fallen from heaven and many among them had perished in the conflagration. In desperation, Prometheus did something that no one had ever dared before; he stole from the mind of the sleeping Deus a flame that had been jealously guarded for aeons. Fleeing heaven with the speed of a sparrow hawk, Prometheus held the sunburst tight against his breast; as he flew through the blackness of space holding the flame next to him, he was transformed by it. From his flesh, fiery feathers sprouted, and his arms transmuted into wings; as the sun was bright, his eyes became dark. With each beat of his wings, the light bearer’s appearance became more outrageous, more avian, and more intensely colored, until erupting in one last explosion of activity, the fire consumed him. He crashed into earth as a fireball and was discovered crumpled on the ground by a man and woman. With his final agonizing breath, Prometheus called to the man, saying, “feed me dear human, that I may bestow upon you the divine wind of the gods.” So the man tossed some grain and meat into the fire, and placed upon it incense woods. As the man did so, a jeweled egg rose from the undying ashes of the fallen angel’s body.
After some time had passed, and the man and woman gazed intently at the egg incubating in the embers, the shell cracked and a hatchling struggled to free itself; in its beak it held an emerald seed. Thanking the man for his kindness, the Firebird gave him the seed and told the man to plant it in a green hill-country. The resurrected bird said to the man and woman, “I have betrayed the gods and cannot return to them. I foresaw their end and your beginning; allow my spirit to dwell with you, and I will bestow upon you many more gifts than I have given you this day.” To this the man assented, and the Firebird turned himself into a flaming “crown of thorns” and alighted on the man’s head. The Firebird said “I will be with you always, and though the gods may beset you with many hardships, you will overcome them.” As he spoke these words, Prometheus dissolved into the man’s brow. From that day forward, man was lord over the Earth.
Not much going on here by way of new posts. So I thought I might as well put up links to a couple of fun threads at the British Democracy Forum. You know the BDF. It’s the place where everybody spits on the wilton when someone mistakenly mentions the leader’s name. But they don’t spit as much as the good folk of Nationalists Online. Now, they know how to spit, I can tell you. They do practically nothing else all day, from what I can judge. They are swimming in it. At least, I think that’s what it is.
Anyway, this scurrilous person Henry Palfrey has, in the most unwelcome and improper way, been introducing the JQ to pure-hearted British nationalists on the BDF who, to be honest, do not need dynosaur thinking of that ilk. Obviously. One of the threads is titled BNP need to be more like National Front. It’s fifteen pages long at this point, so I suggest a quick skim and nothing more. You may come across Soren on it somewhere. The other thread is new and is titled Michael Savage: Now It’s A Crime To Be White? Except the person who posted it belongs to a people who are not absolutely unequivocally white themselves.
There is an ongoing debate regarding how WE might regain the reigns of power – how we might take the captaincy of the vessel, so to speak. We all know the problem – the intoxicated captain (whose name is “He Who Wrestles with God” or Jacob) is steering us directly into an iceberg. Under Jacob’s captaincy, the ship has been neglected; our vessel is already taking on water, and the boilers are running out of steam (not to mention the problem of the exploding rat population). What good will it do us to usurp Jacob’s power if the ship is no longer seaworthy?
To Silver, in fact … in response to his contributions to the That Word Again thread:-
Your analyses in terms of irrational whites and aracial whites is accurate, but historically superficial. The Western collective consciousness has been under the sway of a wide array of circumstances and influences that have about played themselves out. The forces that have mounted and steered the circumstances are also at the end of the playbook. It is not yet closing time, but it clearly the last call.
History, in a certain sense, is like a children’s game of musical chairs. The music plays and everyone dances or runs about, and then the music slows and stops, and everyone must find a chair. Inevitably, someone is left out. Not everyone gets a chair, but not everyone is left out - only some, and they disappear from the game. No amount of multicultural brainwashing nor immigration can change this historical cycle. Unlike the children’s game, those who get the chairs are not the aracial, the atomized, the isolated, the apathetic. Nor are they the self-satisfied bourgeois, happy in his townhouse. It is those - and it has always been those - who are conscious of themselves as a unity, an entity and bloodline to be preserved. It is those who see the chairs that are their own. Those that made each individual chair, know the music and have played and won the game since time immemorial.
Or a British nationalist, anyway. Well, perhaps you are. But you can now test the thesis courtesy of the Daily Telegraph. As part of its coverage of the General Election the paper has installed an online engine called Vote Match - presumably a development from dating software. Anyway, there’s nothing to interest lonelyhearts in the match of voter attitudes to party positions which it calculates.
I tried Vote Match twice this morning so I could get a reading for all six parties (it only allows three at a time) and obtained the following result:
The degree of match, as indicated by the percentages, seems a little high for UKIP and Greens, and I am not sure quite why the Labour Party stands above the Liberals - I am equally disinterested in them both. But in other respects it seems very fair - not least in that, unlike the voter poll in The Sun for example, it actually included the BNP in the exercise. It’s a given that the party’s policies are far more popular than the party itself - something quite a few innocents will doubtless discover when they hit the last button.
The questions about health, education, pensions and so forth are probably too domestic for non-Brits. But let’s see some results for MR readers who will be voting in the Westminster election next month.
I was reading Alex Kurtagic’s latest over at the Occidental Observer (Are Leftists Clever?) and came across this:
I was struck suddenly by the strangeness of the term “protest vote.” Does anybody else find sinister and Orwellian the idea that a vote for the interests of one’s own people is assigned to “protest”? Isn’t all voting a form of assent or dissent? Well OK, voting intentions always have been substantially manufactured. We generally vote the way we are supposed to. Now, it seems that when we don’t, we merely demonstrate our unorthodoxy, and reveal our impenitence to our smiling - or not-so-smiling - khaki-clad, latte-drinking, platitude-spouting, conformity-enforcing, wannabe Torquemadas of the modern age.
Kurtagic’s anti-fa believes not just that there should be an attack carried out by the overwhelming or vast majority on “the fascists”, but that there could be such an attack. These “fascists”, who are already marginalized by virtue of their political eccentricity, could realistically be attacked by the numerical majority! After all, manufactured political violence is only a notch or two up on manufactured voting intentions, and we all know they’re real enough.
So that phrase “a vast majority” concerns me, as it concernes Kurtagic. It should rightfully concern any person espousing a minority viewpoint. Generally, when a small band of people assembles for the express purpose of attacking others or engaging in criminal activity we attach to the group a label: gang, bandits, syndicate, mafia, etc. However, in circumstances where the gang is comprised of an overwhelming majority of the populace, we attach to the conspirators the very dignified sounding appellation, the public, and their crimes are sanctioned, their opinions received as wisdom, and the blood they shed and tread on redeems. Where’s the crime there?
Historically, the multitude has proven itself to be the greatest and most harsh tyrant of all. It exercises near total control in its wildly arbitrary and indiscriminately vast decrees that encompass nearly every human activity, subjecting even the minutia of the lives of the people to its dominion, ever expanding its empire by the pressure of peerage, it rules us through a network of informants from whom we can never secure even the smallest sanctuary or modicum of peace.
Who watches the watcher’s watchers?
The public can be a petty and capricious bitch of a custodian. Woe to the man who casts his vote against the multitude! Who, after all, would protest the people save a lunatic?
by Alexander Baron
Although he is unquestionably one of the most irksome presenters on British television, Dominic Littlewood has one major saving grace; here and there he presents a programme which has real educational value. On March 9, 2010, he presented the second of five episodes of Fake Britain, which among other things showed a police raid on an illegal factory where bank cards were being cloned, literally by the hundred.
Littlewood also visited the Yorkshire town of Ilkley where shopkeepers and publicans had been on the receiving end of a blitz of forged £20 notes, which had left many of them out of pocket, but the most interesting cameo was where he brought in a counterfeit coin specialist – a former employee of the Royal Mint – who in a near two hour shopping session in the capital managed to find seven fake one pound coins. There was probably nothing too surprising about that, nor with the claim that the police would not be the slightest bit interested if you, dear reader, were to take a fake pound coin to your local cop shop. Such a course of action may leave you out of pocket, but a dud coin passed here and there will not prompt any sort of investigation while the police have terrorists to chase and motorists to harass.
But the really surprising revelation was the reaction, or rather the non-reaction, of the Royal Mint to fake coins. Though it is estimated that some two and a half percent of one pound coins in circulation have been produced illegally, the Mint does not bother to take them out of circulation. While a forged twenty pound note will most definitely leave you out of pocket and may see you questioned by the police if not actually arrested, it is quite likely that you will continue to spend your quota of fake pound coins in your local shops, and as long as neither the shopkeeper nor the bank notices (or cares) your fake money will be every bit as good as the real thing.
This message is to inform you that I met Thomas Brusco, aka Epic Beard Man yesterday. There has been a huge outpouring of support for him and I would like to thank everyone for showing your concern for what he had to go through.
As you probably know there are a ton of new websites selling Epic Beard Man merchandise and various websites that claim to be created as his legal defense fund or a place to send him donations. Tom is not associated with these websites and websites that claim to be made by him and soliciting donations are scams.
The only website that I can confirm has said they will send a portion of the proceeds is iamamotherfucker.com
To send a donation to [EBM] please ONLY send a check to:
I can tell you that interacting with Tom is quite an experience and on public transportation and walking on the street he loves to talk with his fans. I would suggest sending him a short note of why you are writing and include a stamped self addressed envelope so that he can send you a note of appreciation in return. I will mention that thanks to generous donations from his fans he has been able to get the money he needs to attend his mom’s funeral.
A couple people have asked about who I am and I’m a San Francisco activist involved with various community organizing groups that do things like help the homeless and charity fundraisers. I’m not associated with anyone selling EBM merchandise and like you wanted to show my concern for what he had to go through with this ordeal.
The clock is ticking. The world turns and as the year changes, the decade changes too. If our time is ever to come, the ten years which lie ahead must see the potential in our movement cease to be just that, just potential, and progress, and power and confidence begin to come through. It would be an unthinkable and terrible failing if nationalism in the European world arrives at the end of “the teenies”, as I suppose the MSM will call them, without that much, at least, to its credit.
But that is for tomorrow. For tonight, drink and be merry, and sing the auld song. Good luck to you, and good luck to us all.
Here for all seasonal romantics and climate change “deniers” is a picture shot in our back garden by my daughter on the morning of 18th December, just as the Copenhagen Conference was slowly, delightfully falling through the floor and the threat of carbon taxation was receding. Virtually all the snow has also receded now from our part of the world, and the Met Office will not be declaring a White Christmas tomorrow, except north of the border. No matter, it has been a good end to the nationalist year in this country.
The high point, of course, was the election in June of Nick Griffin and Andrew Brons to the European Parliament, closely followed by the blue funk into which this happy event tipped the entire political and media Establishment. Now we all await the favour of Gordon Brown to know when the next electoral challenge for the BNP, the General Election, will take place. The smart money appears to be going on March or April.
However the BNP fares in its target seats, the story for the party next year will be one of re-adjustment to the new Cameron government. If recent form is anything to go by, we are looking at a minimum of two terms of Tory rule. So adjust the party must, in my view.
Not just in Britain but all across the European world the decade that is just beginning will surely not be like the decade that went before it. Our collective situation will grow darker, that is for sure. But the political options which nationalists understood long ago are crystallising for more and more of our people, and the arguments are clarifying. It is our privilege and duty at this small blog to participate, insomuch as we are able, in the furtherance of that process. On behalf of all the contributors to our site, then, I wish its readers and, especially, its commentariat not only a happy Christmas but an intellectually adventurous and politically rewarding 2010.
I’ve been mailed links to two resources by different readers. Each resource has high research value, and I thought your attention should be drawn to them.
The first is the authoritative source for anyone who wants to examine the spoken parliamentary record - like, for example, when the post-war Labour government first decided to invite Jamaican immigrants into our midst. This, of course, is Hansard and is:
I am indebted to JB for the link.
The second link is for something quite different but no less useful, and it is to “perhaps the most comprehensive biomedical site on the net”, according to the reader, James, who sent it:
MR readers are a useful lot, I’m pleased to say.
White Genocide Project
Also see trash folder.
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Nationalist Political Parties
Whites in Africa