This clip (courtesy of Stan Hess) emerges most pertinent in light of Jewish crypsis; along with their twisting and corruption of terms by which we might otherwise organize and understand our people’s interests - as opposed to Jewish influence:
This is a crucial distinction to hold-up against the games they will continue to play with our terminology - and an example of those manichean language games comes with the latest Stark broadcast: http://www.starktruthradio.com/?p=1319
With Jewish “Haywire”
Rather, The Lies Will Try to Live ...by infiltrating our interests.
These two try to pawn themselves-off as ‘Alternative Right, right-wingers”...with upstart they say that “THE Left is the establishment.”
(the White Left is the establishment? don’t think so):
Jews do not want us to be a White Left. The reason that they do not want that is because it is our best outlook - an orientation which, together with sufficient anarchy, allows for our coordination and strategic evasion of their infiltration. This capacity to evade their infiltration is facilitated by coordination not merely by place but by language - that is why the terms are so important. Shared terminology serves to coordinate our people wherever they might be while at the same time allowing for sufficient anarchy to evade infiltration, counter our enemies and counter corruption - especially tactical in the clear terminological position of a White Left, its eye on elite betrayal and “scabbing” - i.e., any attempted entry into our “union” by non-Whites.
Sure, these Jews are “the Right ..like reading Spengler and Evola”…just so wild and crazy…“but we’re appealing to the ‘New Generation”...Haywire says, “we’re so ‘in touch’ with the new cultural zeitgest of THE RIGHT.”...er, Mulatto Supremacism
“The Left is the establishment”...Jews are just such rebellious trend setters..
“I was at a conference with Richard Spencer and Paul Gottfried..
...I’m really not interested in race…
I want to create a ‘new species” - read, Mulatto Cyborg...
Haywire continues: “I’m not really into the race thing, ‘race’ is a mental thing…
On to the matter of looking at us:
Where Lies Don’t Try to Live by crypsis, controlling the narrative, twisting our organizational language games, by infiltrating and misdirecting interests, they might just as well be served by provoking misdirection of our own, to where we are fighting our own. Rather than fighting non-Whites, in a manner perhaps such as this:
As opposed to other right-wingers with whom he may associate and even endorse, just why Ransdell is unoffensive by comparison is beginning to crystallize..
First, contrasting his Rockwell influence..
Rockwell frequently talked about the black issue and the black plague of race-mixing without fretting the rigid paranoia that this was “distracting from the J.Q.”
And who was Malcolm The Tenth anyway? - he would be introduced to American audiences by The Hate that Hating Whites Produced - narrated by Mike Wallace, it was a seminal Jewish documentary instigating blacks to riot and violence against Whites.
An artist / pr man is better suited for a view and treatment of Praxis - negotiating the fluid, reflexive, social interactive world with practical judgement as opposed to rigid scientific instrumentation; and laws - “Our purpose is the Creator’s purpose” ?
Of course “our purpose” should be serving the interests of our race. I’m sure Pierce would have believed that, but he may have wanted to base it more absolutely on scientific law than it could be.
Scientists are indispensable of course, for supplying rigorous information on specifics and broad generalities beyond casual purview, providing critical tools for rhetorical support for what is in fact the appropriate, “human-sized” (scaled) social perspective by which the social artist may dramatize and complete a vision.
But as one might say of Renegade and Daily Stormer, it is not enough to be an artist, one must be a good artist, reflecting good judgment - not always the case in WN.
Typically of the right, Andrew Anglin was one to range from being soft on blacks to showing outright affinity for them until he calculated that normal White men don’t like blacks and despise miscegenation. But this was only a calculation by Anglin, not the feeling the comes from trustworthy interest and concern for Europeans broadly, judging from important difference.
While we need some posture and people who display the power of not being perturbed by these matters, to where they can easily mock them, I will speak for myself, confident that other White men also despise people who try to sell the attitude of studied detachment as the one for our race in general - soft-selling blacks and race-mixing, saying that talking about these issues is a waste of time or a distraction from
If the word “monocausal” regarding the JQ is going to provoke a paranoid response then how about, irresponsibly “single-issued” and correspondingly inauthentic by way of an irresponsibly narrow platform of response. “With Jews we lose” isn’t the same as saying “only Uncle Adolf and nobody should be critical of him; he’s perfect, didn’t do nothin” or “Only NW Europeans, all others be subordinate, be damned and go to Africa.”
Even if he was done-in by a Greek and it bespeaks a little less social aplomb than I may see in him, one nevertheless gets a sense of general goodwill from Rockwell toward his fellow Europeans - I get a sense that his initial inclination toward all of them was friendly, whereas Pierce was rigid.
Coming from Rockwell’s context, even the swastika isn’t offensive. One gets an underlying sense of irony, humor, playfulness of his social artistry and theatrics - that the swastika is not the literal issue, underneath that is the real issue - defense of European peoples. Rockwell almost certainly could have been persuaded that Eastern Europeans and Southern Europeans were European as well, satisfied by an agreement to maintain distinctions where one could potentially mix away the other to its demise.
On the other hand, even though HE DID NOT wave the swastika around, one gets the sense from Pierce that that was literally the thing.
In the influence of Rockwell as opposed to Pierce, we have a clue as to why Ransdell bespeaks practical judgment (phronesis) and good will to all concerned Whites, while those beholden to Pierce’s worldview cling rigidly to Hitler’s conflicted, quarter Jew perspective, determined singularly to defend his mother against Jewish assault, with little, or only condescending empathy for Europeans beyond Germanics.
Perhaps I’m being a bit naiive about Rockwell. He was probably a bit rigid too, just not as much as Pierce. The fact that Rockwell was killed by a Greek does say something (perhaps a bit too willing to throw other Europeans under the hate bus?, I don’t know the situation well enough to say).
Perhaps Ransdell will turn out to be one, like Kyle Hunt, who cares and sympathizes only for Hitler’s view and issues in the end.
Still, one can’t help but see better prospects in reasoning with the Rockwell / Ransdell trajectory than the Pierce / Hunt trajectory. For the latter, it is apparently about redeeming Nazi Germany and its scientistic “naturalism”. For the former it is apparently more about our race.
We do hate race-mixing
It’s hard to take Rockwell’s antics too seriously. These were largely publicity stunts; the map was not the territory; it is evident that he could see more than one side. “You want integration? OK, lets have integration!” He proceeds to have his Nazi-clad men make themselves comfortable in a synagogue (LOL). On the other hand, one does not get a sense of humor, irony and underlying good will from Pierce. That is not to say that Rockwell was not seriously committed to some mistaken ideas, but one got a sense of a character more amenable to negotiative correction for having a better feel of Praxis.
In Richard’s case, fate had him stuck next to one Randy Scheunemann. Despite the discomfort, it was instructive (for me, anyway) to learn who this man was - an insider neo-con, influential during the W. Bush Administration and in fact, a member of Project For A New American Century, a.k.a., Operation Clean Break (to secure the ‘realm’ around Israel). Scheunmann was one of its loud voices advocating all of its wars and military operations going on behalf of Israel, using The U.S. and any other nation it could press into its service. But once out of a job with the “neo-cons” out of office, there he was, helplessly hovering, captive with an enemy.
My own experience in the fate of helplessly hovering did not have me placed in the company of an enemy, but with a man who was on amicable terms, could have been a good friend. Instead I ruined his day and caused a very uncomfortable, seemingly endless ski-lift ride to the top of Aspen Mountain. As this particular episode did not highlight the large fall of a once prominent man, but the pathetic bungling of normal relations, I intend to examine rather what I believe to be a non-trivial aspect – and that is the connection of fate. It is not my purpose to state that I have anything like a sufficient explanation yet for the meaning of fate. Rather, that I am compelled to believe in its more or less possibility – whereas I had not, and would not take the notion of fate seriously prior to experiences which I will recount.
Unlike Richard Spencer, I have been skiing exactly twice in my life. The first time was in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Having taken my ski lessons and mastered what was called “the intermediate slope” quite handily, I developed a bit of hubris in my ability – at least for the intermediate slope. I tried the advanced slope once and could not even stand before falling and being jettisoned downward. Nevertheless, even little kids were whisking down past me and I could not believe how they did it – I only realized that I could not handle the advanced slope.
Satisfied nevertheless, I returned to my hostel that evening (but did of course I see an interracial couple on the way, in case anyone believes New Hampshire is immune). One of the townies was there talking about how he advocated Pat Buchanan, who was running for Presidency (was that the year he had a Negro running mate? Perhaps); it struck me as strange for a kid that young to be promoting Pat (whom I never thought to be very good - “rather than ‘the sewer of multiculturalism’ all Americans should integrate as English speaking Christians” - good thinking, Pat. No wonder the mainstream media kept you around as a convenient foil all those years), but I appreciated his defiant conservatism. New Hampshire was one of the few places where Buchanan could win. Fate was kicking in, the trance recollections before and during my recent trip to Europe from which I’d just returned were prompting me..
There were some English skiers there at the hostel. A couple of young lads and an older English gent there solo. I could not forget his name, as it was Hamilton. We talked candidly about race. He expressed his admiration at how Germany had built their country right back up after World War II. When discussing the problems of our respective European nationalities, he gritted his teeth and said, “Jews!” I was not ready to go there. I still needed to hold breadth that this may be in some part, if not primarily a distraction from deeper issues. It was probably not in that moment but somewhere in that evening that I felt myself being aware that I was outside of my normal consciousness, castigating (laced with the vilest profanity) the girls running the hostel, one from France in particular, for being a nation of feminist bitches. They apparently understood that this was a trance as they calmly instructed me the next morning that I had to visit North Hampton - as I had told them that they were going to tell me to go to North Hampton in the next few days to meet my fate among the greatest concentration of lesbians in The U.S., North Hampton being the proximity of two of America’s most prestigious women’s colleges – Smith and Mount Holyoke.
The parting with Mr. Hamilton did not go as I might have liked. It was clear that we were both dearly committed to defending Europe against liberalism and non-Europeans. I had told him in the trance state the evening before that you can trust a man if you can look him dead in the eye and he does not look away. The next morning Mr. Hamilton had a big smile on his face as he saw me (my trances always seemed to have a healing effect on people); we shook hands in parting, he looked me dead in the eye; but I turned my eyes away and a puzzled frown came across his face. Though I regret making myself didactically untrustworthy in that instant, I know now that I did that because I did not yet know enough to express full enough agreement with him. That day, Hamilton, a Thomas Hamilton rather, massacred school children in Dunblane, Scotland. So it must have been the 13th of March 1996.
Hubris meets Nemesis
My hubris in prevailing over the intermediate slope of the White Mountains is humbled by the Nemesis of Aspen’s “intermediate” slope.
The next and last time I went skiing was in March again, four years later, in 2000, a few weeks after my father passed away. I had to drive his car from New Jersey to my brother in Arizona. On the way I decided to try skiing again – this time in Aspen, Colorado, on Aspen Mountain precisely. I must have made an awkward sight in my Carhartt pants amidst all other people equipped in proper skiing attire. But such was my hubris, I had mastered the intermediate slopes in The White Mountains. I could do this, just as I am. I rented my skis, took a day pass and hopped on the ski-lift next to a guy maybe around my age, late 30’s, obviously a nice guy – as one who clearly had experience, he nevertheless told me not to worry about my pants; and gave me some tips; to watch what other people were doing and encouraged me to have fun. We proceeded to talk and he said that he enjoyed hot air balloon racing.
I quickly chimed in with the story of the two balloonists who had accidentally drifted over Belarus the prior September, only to be shot as helpless sitting ducks. As I recounted the story to him, I did what many of you would do - I laughed, because it was so ridiculous and pathetic: the thought of these two sitting ducks, helplessly hovering there, American passports in hand, pathetically shot down as they dangled above the doltish force of nature that is a neo-Soviet mentality.
My raucous, cynical humor was not well placed. A sudden pained expression came over his face. “These were my friends” he said..
Dr. Graham Lister:
Tob Shebbe Goyim Harog Eli:
In a few weeks thousands of people will gather in New York to celebrate the passing of another year. Thousands of confused people, joining together to recognize the passing of 2010. In some way, it is still the end of a century. We wave goodbye to the 20th century and welcome in the 21st. When that sphere touches the pavement, it will signal to us the onset of a new era. We hope its an era where our peoples receive acknowledgement of what we have to do to remain what we are. Time will tell.
Kievsky’s blog had an article mentioning high-fructose corn-syrup, which as far as I can tell, seems to play a central role in modernity, particularly the large rolls of fat which envelop modern persons. They say that if you throw an average American into a large vat full of corn-syrup, that he will free himself by consuming all of it. Anecdotally, this is what happens even if the lid of the vat is low enough to allow escape.
People’s body shapes tend to change with the times. In the old days of classic 50s civilization, men had little pouches of fat on their stomaches. Perhaps these men were 10 pounds overweight or 20 pounds on average. The pouch was small enough to contain a 1 L jar of marbles. The pouch began to extend through the 70s until 1985, becoming too prominent to be sucked in anymore. The pouch had now become a proper belly, and signified about 30 pounds of excess weight. Going into the 90s the belly began to extend into other body-areas, subsuming what were previously separate structures. It used to be easy to tell, for example, where someone’s belly ended and their legs began. There was also a clear line of demarcation between ‘belly’ and ‘chest’.
But as the 90s rolled on, it became more and more difficult to tell what was legs and what was belly. Because at a certain point the belly starts hanging and overtakes the groin area, and in persons who are 50 pounds overweight, the belly, groin and upper legs fuse into a one big flabby region that is no longer clearly demarcated. The belly was on the move, and not only downwards. Its roundness began to take over what had previously been ‘chest’, to the point where it became difficult to tell where people’s abdomen’s would be. The ‘chest’ began to take on some of the bulk that was creeping up from beneath.
But they succeeded only in making me more “prejudiced” than ever.