by Karl LaForce

Laundry, Intimidation, and Divine Retribution. Wednesday 28 March 2012

My extensive travelling experience has taught me that when it comes to hotel laundry service there are only two types of hotels; those that let you do your laundry yourself, and those which charge too much for laundry service. Our hotel was the latter. As my travelling partner and I are both working-class people, we stuffed our clothes into a laundry bag, got the address of a few laundry mats off the Internet, and took off in search of clean clothes.

Our car had a GPS with an English-accent female voice (“whom” we had taken to calling Penny).  Penny led us to a packed street market with no car traffic and many vendors selling vegetables, fish, small grocery items and flowers. We parked our car at the closest spot we could find, about 500 meters from our destination. As we walked through the crowded street market, our education continued.

Here we found an immigrant stronghold. Immigrant-run tables were two to one for every Greek-run table. The press of the crowd led us to cross the street, walking on the sidewalk or the street as required. My travelling partner had often come to this market as a child. Walking on the pavement, we squeezed between a small refrigerated truck and what looked like an Indian run barber shop, my travelling partner had no more breathed the thought “how did these people get here”, when one explanation, at least, presented itself.

Here we found an immigrant stronghold. Immigrant-run tables were two to one for every Greek-run table. The press of the crowd led us to cross the street, walking on the sidewalk or the street as required. My travelling partner had often come to this market as a child. Walking on the pavement, we squeezed between a small refrigerated truck and what looked like an Indian run barber shop, my travelling partner had no more breathed the thought “how did these people get here”, when one explanation, at least, presented itself.

Like a divine appointment, we found ourselves nose to nose with a man in a grey parka
embroidered with “Disney Cruises”. He was passing out immigration documents, and coaching foreigners on how to fill out the forms. We guessed he was a lawyer of some kind. There he was, one of the basest creatures on the planet, a European helping to pollute Europe with non-Whites for money. I would have given more thought to merging my fist and his face, but when one is wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt (my pyjamas) and lugging a bag of dirty clothes, forbearance is often the better part of valor.

After a very interesting search we found one of the laundry mats we had identified on the
Internet. Even though the Internet site had said “self serve” and we had bought and brought our own detergent, it was actually a wash-dry-fold place with a price of 10 Euros a load. Sold.

The young lady behind the counter thought that the American notion of a do-it-yourself laundry mat was a joke. In order to pass time while our clothes were washing we walked next door to a working-class bar filled with Greek men, and had coffees and cokes for the two hours we had to wait. We talked and talked about Greece’s problems. We continued to wonder at the sea of foreigners passing by in front of us as we sipped our coffee. Many of them looked like the descendants of the very people my travelling partner’s ancient ancestors had fought in the past so Greece would remain pure and untainted from them, and here they were in “all their glory”, walking and talking, peddling and acting as if though they were the masters of this land, almost saying “we have the final word, we own your lands now”.

My fiery-spirited companion summed up our thought succinctly, ” Many invaders have come to claim our land in the past … many times my ancestors fought them and drove them off the land, and this time is no different … the Greeks once more will write history.

After about two hours we walked back and as we picked up our laundry we engaged the young lady at the laundry mat in a conversation about the economy and all other problems that plague Greece. The young lady told us of her as well as her people’s despair, her economic hardships, her fears of all the immigrants around her neighborhood, crime, theft, robberies … how the people wanted all this to end, and Greece to prosper ... how the politicians always seek help from the bankers and “economic aid packages” instead of developing Greece’s natural resources (like the wealth of oil, gas, and minerals under the control of the national government).

After a stop at the hotel to put on clean duds, we headed to Agios Panteleimon, a hard hit
neighborhood in Athens - a GD stronghold - overrun with immigrants, and as it happens, one of the childhood neighborhoods of my traveling partner. There was a large demonstration by GD here last year, and the graffiti that made international news is still visible on the ground in front of the church. GD has a neighborhood watch in this area. As we walked around a bit, I stop traffic by standing in the middle of the street to let a lady of about eighty years old cross the street at her own pace; pedestrians are like third class citizens here. The moment turns into a conversation between my partner and a different lady of about seventy right on the street corner.

I step about eight meters down the sidewalk to photograph some graffiti, and I notice that the conversation between my companion and the older lady has stopped in an odd way. I walk back to the corner to find a very dark Pakistani-looking man with eyes full of hate staring at the lady of about seventy, less than one meter from her.

He had not seen me, and now that he has, he walks quickly away. The lady says: “we live in fear of these people, you never know when they will have a knife. A lady was killed on this very block by immigrants during a robbery, because she would not give up her purse. There is no hope except Golden Dawn.”

My partner and I look at each other in surprise. In the past GD members and their supporters were like us, hardcore Nationalists. Now here is this - with my entire respect – little old frightened White lady, and she sees GD as the only answer. I wanted to dance a jig. Without a doubt she would be voting for Golden Dawn in the upcoming elections.

In a bit of very good fortune, almost a miracle actually, we ran into our friend George on the street there. We spent some minutes talking on the street with him, as we notice five young Athens Metro policemen walking near us. George says, a little too loudly, “the police are here to make a show before the election of keeping order and arresting illegal immigrants”. One of the police officers upon hearing George’s comment, turns and says: “We are here because we are the police, and we go where we need to go to do our job”. A heated but peaceful exchange between George and the cop follows and after it is all over, I mention that the average police officer is no more informed than the average person, and that when GD takes power in Parliament, the police will take orders from Nationalists the same way that they take orders from traitors now.

In keeping with our plans we headed to Lake Marathon, the Marathon Dam, and the temple Treasure of the Athenians. Lake Marathon is just over the mountains from the city of Marathon and the ancient battle site. When we arrived we found the trail to the temple closed due to a forest fire. As my partner and I had been planning this visit with a religious zeal, we were not about to let a “trail closed” sign stop us. We walked over to the edge of the dam near the spillway, and hopped over. The trip down the trail was arduous, but having the temple all to ourselves was worth all our effort, and more.

After the battle of Marathon, the Athenians built a temple to Nemesis, the goddess of divine retribution, and placed the city’s treasure in the temple, as an offering to Nemesis to bring about divine retribution on the Persians for the destruction they had caused before they retreated during the first Persian invasion of Greece. The temple we were visiting is a reproduction, but faith obscures such distinctions. After a solemn oath we laid our simple offering of fresh-picked wild flowers at the door of the temple, and asked Nemesis for divine retribution against the enemies of Europe, Greece, the White Race and our Hellenic Heritage.

Those who know me know that I am an atheist, but I do believe that the gods of the ancient European Pantheons were expressions of our inner natures and attributes. As such, I invite all my white brothers and sisters to lay an offering to Nemesis in the sanctity of their own inner most being, and to embrace the warmth of cleansing hatred toward our enemies, in retribution for all the damage they have done.