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Via Davis Aurini i discovered Cobra Kai.

i saw The Karate Kid at some point in my pre-teen years and of course wanted to join a dojo and administer severe beatings to all & sundry, however my father (being incredibly mean) didn’t want to spend any money so said “eghh well listen egghhhh it is TOO DANGEROUS egh!” so instead i just started fantasizing about genocide and the white ethnostate, which leads me to 2018 and i’m drunk and listen to Aurini’s video (while playing World of Tanks) and think “a TV sequel to Karate Kid, with the same characters only 34 years on, this sounds like a real hoot” and since the first two episodes are free on Youtube i sat me down, expecting to be mildly disappointed as is generally the way of things. But i was looking forward to seeing the filthy greaser Daniel Larusso and the Aryan Hitler Youth hector Johnny Lawrence 34 years on, even if of course played by other actors.

It is fokcen amazing. The script is taut, amusing, with fine control of plot threads & character development; the dialogue is good; the acting very good.

My first shock: Larusso and Lawrence are played by Ralph Macchio and William Zabka – the originals.



2018 Johnny is a man very much out of time. Perhaps it is consequent upon profound defeat; perhaps one becomes stuck at the point of failure, preserved in amber. He has no idea what Facebook is; the idea of online harassment is baffling to him. After drunkedly beating down some high school bullies (when they throw their greaser victim onto his parked car) he becomes an accidental sensei to all the school victims. His pep talk to Eli, a student with a cleft lip:

Johnny: Lip has something he wants to say. Sorry, speak up, Lip. Or is your tongue messed-up too? Are you one of those challenged kids?

Eli: Um, the doctor said I could be on the spectrum.

Johnny: I don’t know what that is, but get off it pronto. If you don’t want me to call you Lip, then don’t have a weird lip. Can’t you get surgery for that?

Eli: I was born with a cleft lip. This is the scar from the surgery.

Johnny: You mean it was worse before that? Or did the doctor just screw up? Because if this is the after photo, that sucks, man. You should sue.

He openly and casually admits to bullying students at school – always face to face. He is a natural Alpha who grew up in the golden age before the Left utterly corrupted the centres of power (90s). He is crass, vulgar, swaggering, Aryan. He protec / but he also attac


He is a man of the 80s. He is a man of American greatness. He is a man who will enjoy his simple hedonist life until circumstances force him to take a stand, on behalf of America.

Johnny Lawrence is Donald Trump.


1. Rather bizarrely, growing my Sturmstache has made me into some kind of gangster pimp. i can hardly walk down the street without Muslims exploding in admiration and women ripping their fine garments asunder for me to behold their voluptuous charms. i am frankly at a loss to explain it. i personally think the ‘stache just makes me look dour and hate-filled and old, and since i feel dour and hate-filled and old i rather like it. For me, the ‘stache is a way of saying “i can no longer even pretend to be young. i am old as fuck and i want to murder all coloured people, and most white people, also i want to bomb the entire Middle East and Africa, and Asia (except Japan and Korea) because i don’t like hot countries, and U2 are shit.”

But behold, i went into McLingua and was hailed thus by California Jesus: “Elberry my man, pimping it baby, pimping, you pimp gangsta!”

And Toddball, referring to the Arbeitsamt studentesses who (allegedly) want to romp with me on my broken sofabed: “you looking fucking dashing with that fucking ‘stache bro.”

2. i am in two minds. Obviously, the ‘stache stays. But what manner of ‘stache is this? Is it a hate-filled ‘stache, a stache of Rage, or a stache of Love? i asked Milena, my Chosen among the Arbeitsamt hotties, and she just looked wry and later tried to tell me the ‘stache pricks her when i become Amorous, but unfortunately her Czech-English dictionary translated the Czech for “to prick” as “to fuck” which naturgemäs merely encouraged me to grow the ‘stache to Nietzschean, hedge-like proportions  – much to her dismay.

When i look at women, do i regard them with love or with rage? As is often the case, The God Emperor has provided a clue.

There is the God Emperor, looking divine as ever. There is Shinzō Abe looking like “i’m with Trump actually”. There is a hideous old bag who looks like a sack of Stasi turnips. And – wait – something else – there is – a – a – could it be? – a – a – a – STURMSTACHE

By God that’s a ‘stache. The God Emperor could not have found a better prop for this phase of the War – having this grumpy looking professorial chap in the background is like casually pulling a rabid dobermann out of your pocket mid-interview and patting it on the head and saying things like “are you hungry? Would you like to feast on manflesh? No no no, just wait, i’ll feed you when we get home. Oh, you can’t wait?”

3. Now that the God Emperor has dealt with North Korea, he will presumably turn his full attentions to Iran as promised. It has been on the table for over 6 months.


Judging from the Saudi Arabia coup, and North Korea, the God Emperor’s approach to Iran won’t be one of aerial bombardment à la Bush, or “colour revolution”  à la Obama, but either persuade one faction to depose the rulers, or make a deal with the rulers to oust the Cabal. It is typical of Trump to use whatever tools lie to hand – Rex Tillotson, John Bolton – until they are no longer apt.

If my reading of Q is correct, tomorrow (June 14) will be a big day. Sessions will stir. i think in some sense Saudi Arabia and North Korea needed to be cleared from the table before the Swamp could be publicly drained – presumably, a matter of isolating one part of the network from its support/finance infrastructure. Again, if i read Q aright, things will accelerate to a denouement before the mid-terms, in time for the Remembrance Day Parade on 11 November 2018. There will be spates of celebrity/political suicides; the victims will have a predilection for Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, pizza, and have many involvements with the Clinton Foundation.

4. The God Emperor’s use of neo-con tools like Bolton is typical: those who offer loyalty will be spared; those who defy His will, annihilated. This has been planned, i would venture (for occult reasons), since late 2012, by military intelligence officers and men like Mattis. What we are seeing unfold now is, as Q says, a script; a script that was developed over 4 years before filming truly began. Actors were chosen. Locations were scouted. When i ask, Why? – i think the answer is, the evil of the Cabal was of such enormity that it provoked a response. Just as a source of goodness & truth will attract the special attentions of evil (for example, the utter corruption of Western universities), so the centres of evil provoke even relatively normal men to take up opposing arms. It is one thing to see e.g. the elites hustling in millions of 3rd Worlders to secure a Statist vote block and cheap labour – in such a case one could just shrug & sigh and move to a 100% white area; it’s something else to realise that any atrocity people can imagine – no matter how vile & dark – has been and is being performed by the elites, precisely because it is vile & dark, and thus a mark of especial favour in their own eyes, the illegality & immorality of the act a kind of distinction in the moral sumptuary laws – like wearing fine silks when all else are in sackcloth & filth (Satanically speaking); and it’s again something else to realise they are at least thinking about funneling uranium to create a false flag nuclear attack.

In such a case, you wouldn’t even need to be an especially upstanding human being to consider a counter-coup. Evil provokes good.

The polarising effect of evil – and the evil of Obama, the Clintons, not to mention most of the British establishment – and the great evil that lies behind such public faces – has i think forced some to consider the nature of their Oath, and their allegiance. The window of opportunity was visibly narrowing in late 2012 and then, i think, men like Mattis used their training, their experience, their traditions, to take action.

1. Feel weary & fascistic as usual in summer. i wanted to visit the Man in Black to watch the World Cup on his Finnish Black Sun Sofa but realised it would wipe out everything i saved in the last 6 months. Oh well, i thought, at least i am saving some money, or rather chipping away at my huge credit card debt (mostly incurred in the 6 months of unemployment in Kiel), then the Finanzamt demanded everything i have and now i’m back to stage one again. This is despite having a nearly-full schedule, having no pension, no real health insurance, rarely taking holidays, and being relatively careful with what money i have – no matter how much i work, how little i spend, i always end up either having to use my credit card for the last week of each month, or with a buffer of 100-200 Euros – typically, the random factor is my tax, for example i paid the Finanzamt their pound of Fleisch in May then thought the next bill would come in August but instead i got another bill earlier this week; it doesn’t make any sense but there it is, it seems that George Soros is sitting in his chair, laughing as he watches my pitiful finances, and when i have a good month and can have a buffer of e.g. 500 Euros in the bank he presses a button and the Finanzamt send me a letter demanding 500 Euros.

2. As happens once or twice a year, typically in summer, i’m thinking about leaving Germany and trying to get a better-paid TEFL job, which means Japan, South Korea, or the Middle East. i am giving semi-serious consideration to the M.E. just for the humour value – having to live in a compound wouldn’t make that much difference to me, as long as i have books and gin and tobacco, and i could do it for a few years i suppose; the only problem would be the doxing threat – if (or rather when) i am doxed, it would put an end to my blogging, at least on anything personal, and i would probably delete most or even all of this blog (though since most of my colleagues are close to illiterate and most of my students can’t read anything in English it wouldn’t be too bad); however, i doubt the Polizei would visit me since almost no one reads my blog and Germany is in most ways a freer society than the UK (i taught at one large company where i heard one of the Board members singing in German, and my student said “he makes this always, they are songs from the old times” and me: “like, uh, Nazi songs?” and he nodded with a shrug); but i dare say it could lead to my disappearance in e.g. Saudi Arabia; and given my habit of making enemies (feminists, self-proclaimed anarchists, UN apparatchiks, champagne socialists, Southron dabbler apple polishers, Antifa, schizophrenics, Muslims, people who like Berlin, vegans, Californians, women) i imagine there’s someone out there who would delight to imagine me locked up in a Saudi prison for 50 years.

3. If they let me keep blogging, however, it might actually be worth it; it would make a great blogging series: elberry moves to Saudi Arabia; elberry teaches Jihaddists; elberry doxed; elberry arrested; elberry resumes blogging from within his prison cell, which he shares with a 300 lb rapist called Mohammed; elberry’s new blogging focus switches from Germanity and teaching and Trump to how not to get raped by Mohammed; elberry becomes a boss in prison; elberry leads the revolution to overthrow the entire Middle East with his army of rapists.


i’m doing yet another edit of Vocations. It seems almost perfect already but since there’s no deadline, and there will be almost no readers, i see no reason to self-publish until i can read it from start to end without a single quibble. And i am a quibbling sort of man. i’m focusing on the play Caliban and the temp memoir 4.5 as the rest (aphorisms, short stories, verse) are more or less fine.

Months ago it was mostly typos or inconsistencies; now it’s a matter of rewriting passages which are okay but a bit flat, or hokey: they feel somehow inauthentic, reflexive. i wrote the first draft of Caliban and 4.5 at speed and am now paying the price. At university, when i generally wrote under time constraints, i found my prose more alliterative, rhythmic, glib, the faster i wrote. It could explain something of Jack Kerouac’s style, in contrast to Alastair MacLeod.

AM: When I’m actually writing, I write a single sentence at a time, and then I read it aloud. It’s like the old Perrine textbook, Sound and Sense. Like any writer of fiction, I need to give information, but I try to relay it in a creative and sound-conscious way. Prose needs to aspire to something more than declarative sentences. I hesitate to say that it should express itself in a beautiful manner because that might seem pompous, but that’s the general idea.

Kerouac typed at speed (though he edited a lot more than he would admit); MacLeod i believe handwrote extremely slowly and didn’t edit at all. Here’s an odd picture of Kerouac with a pipe (hard to imagine him smoking anything which would require patience but it looks like he has a liquid breakfast to help him out):

1. i saw American Made, one of the thousands of American [insert] films made in my lifetime. America is indeed a special nation; for one thing, i can’t imagine films named:

Belgian Psycho

A Danish Werewolf in London

Kazakh Graffiti

German Hustle

Irish Ultra

Somalian Beauty

Luxembourg History X

Welsh Ninja

Czech Pie

Finnish Gangster

Vatican City Gigolo

American Made is an enjoyable film, very much in the American Hustle/Argo tradition of 70s/80s retro style with, naturally, a good soundtrack and a fine performance from Tom Cruise; even when his character, the pilot Barry Seal, performs a classic Top Gun manoeuvre, he’s such a great actor i wouldn’t have noticed the parallel, had i not that kind of mind.

2. i like Doug Liman’s other films and note his father was well placed to transmit a certain view of government. At one point, regarding Seal’s ability to fly planes full of drugs & guns, his CIA handler says “you just keep delivering that pizza”, which struck me a little funny; and while it fit seamlessly, i wondered if Liman as a Hollywood insider knows quite a bit about pizza parties.

Via Hunter S. Thompson i heard something about the Iran Contras but never really cared; i also heard rumours of Arkancide a good 15-20 years ago and felt depressed that someone who looked like a decent, jolly chap might actually be up to his neck in coke deals and murder; at the time i dismissed it as a wild conspiracy theory but it now looks like not only is most of it true but that Hillary may be in even deeper than Bubba Bill.

3. My general feeling about conspiracy theories is that people conspire all the time, history is full of backroom deals, false flags, propaganda e.g. the Gulf of Tonkin, and probably nothing humanly imaginable is off limits to people who feel themselves unaccountable & forever protected from scrutiny let alone punishment. On the other hand, when i consider how many basic mistakes even intelligent people make – ranging from carelessness to a total absence of common sense – and the inherent difficulty of coordinating anything that involves more than two or three people – i must dissent from those who think reptilian Illuminati control everything and have done so for several millennia. If they have, they’ve done a piss poor job of it.

i feel it more sensible to suppose that of course the rich & the powerful conspire all the time – probably more under democracy than in the good old days – but that very little really runs to plan. For example, the Tommy Robinson case

– given he was attacked by Muslims on his last stretch, the plan this time seemed to be:

i) Lock him out of Twitter (28 March 2018)

ii) Arrest him the next time he steps out of line (25 May 2018)

iii) D Notice to muzzle the UK press

iv) Put him in a prison with a few Muslims and let them murder him

v) Take a good year to do an autopsy

vi) Conclude that he took a drug overdose or died of natural causes

i imagine the ascension of Sajid Javid

to the office of Home Secretary on 30 April 2018 was not coincidental.

4. They may still kill Tommy Robinson, but it’s as if they think it’s 1998 and almost no one really knows what the internet is, let alone uses it for anything. If he is killed it could well be one of the triggers to the Great War; imagine a crowd of thousands meeting at 10 Downing Street and trying to climb the fences, the police open fire and kill a few native white patriots; violence erupts throughout the UK, directed against invaders & the police; the police crack down hard, killing more; Muslims rise up and start raping and murdering the native whites en masse; the police move in to suppress the whites and are met with the fury of Wotan Resurgent. Days of genocide. It could be the Government will try to kill Tommy Robinson during an English football game in the upcoming World Cup – both to distract attention and out of a particular love of symbolism – but the insane rage that fills the English every four years will spill out into Wodanic furor against the Invaders & the elites. Perhaps, between the quarter-finals where England are soundly defeated, and the finals, the UK will be relatively genetically homogeneous once more.

5. i’ve been having revelatory dreams of late. It’s imprudent to rely too much on such things, but in this case there are confirmations in the objective world. Last night i dreamt of human DNA – an odd thing to dream about; in the dream, our DNA wasn’t exactly 100% human. There was an ancient admixture of non-human malign intelligences, actually in our DNA itself; and at the edge of the dream, almost beyond my vision, the hand of God. i have no idea if this is literally true, though i believe both demons and the Almighty exist and influence our being, so i think it is at least metaphorically true.

My feeling is that America is indeed “special”, a focus point for much of the evil at work in our civilisation; and much of the good: it still has a kind of self-confidence and zeal mostly lacking in Europe. If one takes the Hermetic as above so below as a guide, i would say that as the God Emperor shows his power level and eradicates his foes, there will be significant psychological changes & trauma among the West – akin to realising part of your DNA is of inhuman origin. i wouldn’t be surprised if the economy also totally collapses this or next year, which if nothing else should disincentivise those who are only in Europe for the gibs.

For normies, this time will be difficult; for those who rightly trust in the God Emperor, or those who have disconnected completely and distrust all politicians, it will be a good deal easier.

1. Bruce Charlton on the spiritual evil of our times:

…we have been inculcated since birth with the idea that ‘things’ amount to current material conditions: and the idea that an Evil regime is one that deliberately causes excessive suffering and death. […]

The idea of Evil as socialist, feminist, and favouring the historically repressed – is off-the-map. hence the fact that Lenin, Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot (ie. the vast majority of Evil totalitarian dictators of recent memory) are down the memory hole. 

The idea of a spiritual dystopia is off-the-map.

It is literally incomprehensible that an Evil society (much like Huxley’s Brave New World) might satisfy all material needs, might refrain from tormenting its citizens, and keep the population distracted and pleasured.

2. In all times, most people have been largely unspiritual. But at least their religions gave them a sense of the spiritual, from afar, an instinctual heuristic. Years ago, i tried to avoid the word spiritual, and beat about the bastard for commensurate but untainted equivalents. In recent years i’ve come to see it is a metaphysical force which manifests variously among the living; and as an inherently moral quality, a question of good and evil.

That, as Charlton writes, most people cannot understand good apart from GDP, quality of life surveys, lifespan, belly-patting Southron comfort & prosperity, is indicative of our corruption. i was teaching a group which includes a criminal court judge and apropos the decline of England in my lifetime, i said that violent crime has surged and for me that is a fairly good indicator of cultural decay – that even if 50% of people drive a BMW and say they’re fucking lovin’ it, if they are also murdering their children, glassing strangers, throwing acid at their wives/girlfriends/ex-girlfriends, something is profoundly wrong with the nation and GDP be damned.

As i see it, if the people are spiritually healthy violent crime will also be low – this is probably the clearest indicator of the unworldly, in worldly terms. As i see it, society is part of creation and thus a greatly misdirected creation will produce a dysfunctional society. i cannot imagine a Shire-like land of happy, well-adjusted folk if their spiritual existence is abhorrent and vile. In this sense, Germany (Kiel, Kassel) seemed a great deal healthier than England; and Bavaria significantly more so.

3. i no longer debate with fools and the worldly. If they believe what the Mockingbird Media of CNN, New York Times, Washington Post etc. tell them, they are either stupid or spiritually broken. Thinking over Charlton’s post i thought of a common Leftist argument during Ramadan: an adherent of the Religion of Peace rams a Truck of Peace or slashes a Machete of Peace or detonates a Bomb of Peace and Europeans die, and the Leftist says: “30,000 people a year are killed in car crashes in Europe, but you get ANGRY when ten people die because some random crazy guy decides to blow himself up?”

The difference is that the car crashes are not intentional. Even when a driver is high or on drugs, he doesn’t plan to kill people. When Salman Ramadan Abedi killed 22 people at an Ariana Grande concert last year

yes he killed fewer people than die every day in car crashes, worldwide; but he wanted to kill as many people as possible.

For the Leftist, this is a convenient time to adopt a purely quantitative approach, – to consider the numbers dead, and say, “why should you care? are you a Nazi?

From a spiritual perspective, however, there is an enormous difference between e.g. accidentally killing someone through inattention, tiredness, drink; and deliberate murder. The former has, in a sense, no spiritual quality of evil in the intent of the actor: evil is only present in the consequence. The latter is evil from start to finish. Salman Ramadan Abedi was evil. His mind was evil. He was ruled and driven by his own evil; by the evil he accepted.

It is a little strange to consider, that today many people would simply look at the kill toll and ignore the intention, at least when it suits their ideology. In my experience, there is a considerable difference between banging my hand (however painfully) against the wall and being physically attacked by someone who wants to hurt me: the former is mere pain, the latter is emotionally difficult to accept. The desire to inflict suffering on the innocent is an indicator of malign spiritual force: and if one is “spiritual” in the slightest, that is abhorrent.

Try explaining this to the average modern man or woman.


1. My bookshelf at the moment:

On my Kindle i’m focusing on Descent of Angels (Horus Heresy), The Third World War by John Hackett, Christopher Caldwell’s Reflections on the Revolution in Europe, James Rickards’ Currency Wars.

i read mostly for pleasure, sometimes from duty. Plato, for example, is largely unrewarding. Von Moltke is difficult because my German is shit but i find his “voice” compelling, human, intelligent. The Horus Heresy books came to me recently; i felt that i needed something i could lose myself within, and behold it is so. They are a joy to read, for the prose and the violence and the fascistic Warhammer 40k philosophy (i wonder if someone has already written fan fiction where Star Trek crosses into Warhammer 40K, the Emperor’s Astartes falling upon Star Fleet with unstoppable murderous intent).

2. i don’t know how the HH novels will play out, and have been attempting to avoid accidental spoilers as things often develop unexpectedly, and i have many a time alighted from my s-bahn with a sense of “wow, that was grimmer than i thought possible.” It is dark indeed, as the first books explore the corruption of the Emperor’s finest: not merely the Astartes (genetically-enhanced super soldiers, in a sense immortal) but their Primarchs (to the Astartes as the Astartes are to human beings). i want to write more about the nature of the corruption but will of course forget about it because i am lazy; however, it isn’t unremittingly dark: it has, for example, humour to my tastes, e.g.

‘Are all your subordinates so obstreperous?’ grumbled the other captain.

‘Of course,’ said Garro, returning to his acceleration couch, ‘we are Death Guard. It’s our nature.’


He sat back down on the metal stool where he had been perching when she’d entered. ‘Let me see… When we got inside the palace, what we found was the Invisibles.’

‘Why were they called that?’ she asked.

‘Because we couldn’t see them,’ he replied.


‘Captain Balhaan is already aboard to personally apologise for his failure, and he has offered to resign command of the Ferrum.

‘Apologise?’ snapped the primarch. ‘I should have his head just to make an example.’

‘With respect, my lord,’ said Santor, ‘Balhaan is an experienced captain and perhaps something less severe might be in order. Perhaps you might simply remove his arms?’

‘His arms? What use is he to me then?’ demanded Ferrus Manus, causing the servant with his breastplate to flinch.

‘Very little,’ agreed Santor, ‘though probably more than if you remove his head.’

And although it is dark, it isn’t depressing, it isn’t Thomas Hardy sci-fi where everyone ends up dead in a ditch and you wish you’d never opened the book in the first place. It’s reminiscent of Cormac McCarthy, where the world itself is enormously violent & cruel, but individuals have the power to choose goodness, kindness, heroism – even if it typically leads to their hideous demise & ruin (so: essentially optimistic). One of my favourite moments, in Galaxy in Flames, as the elderly Astartes (his body still young, but his face and mind are those of a 70-something and he is derided as half-senile by his younger comrades) Iacton Qruze is entrusted with the care of some human beings; later, amidst a slaughter of the human beings:

Euphrati led them towards a hulking warrior who stood apart from the others, and Sindermann knew enough of body language to know that this man was as horrified as they were at what was happening.

The Astartes turned to face them, his face craggy and ancient, worn like old leather.

Euphrati stopped in front of him and said, ‘Iacton. I need your help.’

Iacton Qruze. Sindermann had heard Loken speak of him. The ‘half-heard’.

He was a warrior of the old days, whose voice carried no weight among the higher echelons of command. A warrior of the old days…

‘You need my help?’ asked Qruze. ‘Who are you?’

‘My name is Euphrati Keeler and this is Mersadie Oliton,’ said Euphrati, as if her introductions in the midst of such carnage were the most normal thing in the world, ‘and this is Kyril Sindermann.’

Sindermann could see the recognition in Qruze’s face and he closed his eyes as he awaited the inevitable shout that would see them revealed.

‘Loken asked me to look out for you,’ said Qruze.


‘Iacton,’ commanded Euphrati, her voice laden with quiet authority. ‘Look at me.’

The craggy-featured Astartes looked down at the slight form of Euphrati, and Sindermann could feel the power and determination that flowed from her.

‘You are the half-heard no longer,’ said Euphrati. ‘Now your voice will be heard louder than any other in your Legion. You cling to the old ways and wish them to return with the fond nostalgia of the venerable. Those days are dying here, Iacton, but with your help we can bring them back again.’

‘What are you talking about, woman?’ snarled Qruze.

‘I want you to remember Cthonia,’ said Euphrati, and Sindermann recoiled as he felt an electric surge of energy spark from her, as if her very skin was charged.

‘What do you know of the planet of my birth?’

‘Only what I see inside you, Iacton,’ said Euphrati, a soft glow building behind her eyes and filling her words with promise and seduction. ‘The honour and the valor from which the Luna Wolves were forged. You are the only one who remembers, Iacton. You’re the only one left that still embodies what it is to be an Astartes.’

‘You know nothing of me,’ he said, though Sindermann could see her words were reaching him, breaking down the barriers the Astartes erected between themselves and mortals.

‘Your brothers called you the Half-heard, but you do not take them to task for it. I know this is because a Cthonian warrior is honorable and cares not for petty insults. I also know that your counsel is not heard because yours is the voice of a past age, when the Great Crusade was a noble thing, done not for gain, but for the good of all humankind.’

Sindermann watched as Qruze’s face spoke volumes of the conflict raging within his soul.

Loyalty to his Legion vied with loyalty to the ideals that had forged it.

At last he smiled ruefully and said, ‘Nothing too arduous.’

3. As a late-born man, despised by the rabble, i naturally sympathise with Qruze, who turns out to be as physically capable as his younger comrades when he kills a genetically-enhanced assassin to save the mere human beings in his care.

‘I remember how it used to be,’ he said. ‘We were brothers on Cthonia. Not just among ourselves, but with our enemies, too. That was what the Emperor saw in us when he came to the hives. We were gangs of killers as existed on a thousand other worlds, but we believed in a code that was more precious than life. That was what he wrought into the Luna Wolves. I thought that even if none of the rest of us remembered, the Warmaster would, because he was the one the Emperor chose to lead us.’

‘No,’ said Keeler, ‘you are the last one.’

‘And when I realized that I just… told them what they wanted to hear. I tried to be one of them, and I succeeded. I almost forgot everything, until… until now.’

‘The music of the spheres,’ said Sindermann quietly.

Qruze’s eyes focused again on Keeler and his face hardened.

‘I did nothing, Half-heard,’ said Keeler, answering his unasked question. ‘You said so yourself. The ways of Cthonia were the reason the Emperor chose you and your brothers for the Luna Wolves. Perhaps it was the Emperor who reminded you.’

‘I saw this coming for so long, but I let it, because I thought that was my code now, but nothing changed, not really. The enemy just moved from out there to amongst us.’

4. The quickening i feel, reading these books, is why the Alt-Right is inevitable. When i got to know the Sour Elf, a year or so ago, she was a Sargon of Akkad and Jordan Peterson fan; the last time we talked, a few months ago, she had given up on Sargon. As Coach Red Pill said today, apropos the execution of Tommy Robinson: “Sargon’s not going to do anything, because he doesn’t have the balls. He’s going to hide behind his wife and his wife’s kids.” i notice that she stopped talking about Peterson a few months ago, even before Vox Day started to take him apart.

In our times, it takes enormous courage to even approach the truth. This man

has been sentenced to death for refusing to let his people be “disappeared.” In the words of the Sikh sapper from the English Patient, this is making me incredibly angry. The fat belly-patting Southron dabblers, licking their lips and murmuring earnestly about integration and progress and how spiffing it would be to have John Major back and how they love a good Balti and had a rather nice – oh fuck off already


The Second World War was merely a war of ideology. Our war is not an affair of empires and ideas; it is a question of the utter extinction of the white race and Western civilisation. If we lose, there will be no recovery because the European peoples will no longer exist.

5. The mainstream has been almost wholly corrupt for at least a generation; and when i say corrupt, i mean it is ruled by what the Horus books call Chaos, but one could just label, evil. The one good thing about evil: because it is inimical to life, it awakens resistance among those who are not presently profiting from its dispensation. The belly-patting Southrons will be the last, if they ever wake up; the great awakening begins on the fringes, with all those who either had some integrity, or those who were not bought off & sated with DVD boxsets, Volvos, and ample crates of Chardonnay. Those already awake will move further and further to the Right, and unlikely partnerships will emerge, as we see in Italy (regardless of sabotage), as we will see everywhere.

1. The Z-Man writes:

In 2015, there was no reason to think the 2016 election was going to be anything but more of the same. The smart money said it would be Bush versus Clinton to decide the title. If not Bush, then one of the Bush family flunkies. Then like the meteor that wiped out the dinosaurs, Trump entered the race and altered the political trajectory of the empire. Not only has this event extinguished the Bush wing of the GOP, it is threatening the neo-liberal world order.


One of the rare things in American politics these days is the smart politician who is not desperate to ham it up for the cameras. Nunes, Grassley, Goodlatte and their staffers have carried out this probe in a way we just never see. They took turns nibbling away at bits of the story, working with IG Horowitz, while quietly confronting the FBI and DOJ each step of the way. The level of coordination is what I find intriguing. It feels like maybe there is an inside player making sure everyone is on the same page and working their role.

The Z-Man, like H.A. Goodman and Styxhexenhammer666, has never so much as referred to Q. For the Z-Man & Goodman it is perhaps a sense that anything that happens on the chans is beneath notice; for Styx, i suspect he is merely being cautious – he would certainly distrust NSA.

2. As i have already written, my reading is: early in Obama’s 2nd-term disgruntled patriots in e.g. NSA, CIA, FBI considered a Pinochet solution,

then approached Trump to serve as figurehead. NSA seems crucial here; we know that Admiral Rogers violated protocol to meet President-Elect Trump on November 17th 2016. My guess is, he was shocked by the level of illegality, domestic espionage, etc. directed against Trump by the Deep State, and wanted to give Trump a heads up.

Trump already knew. Whether the Nov 17 visit was a show, or whether Rogers genuinely supposed Trump had only won through racism & chance (the normie consensus) or brains & bravado, i suspect that if one were to trawl through Trump’s public utterances, something changed in late 2012, indicative of a new purpose & knowledge. My suspicion is that the election was to be rigged in Hillary’s favour; that such is indeed possible; and that what i shall call Q-Org both prevented the rigging and covered their tracks so well the Cabal thought Hillary would win.

3. Q has a NSA aroma (apologies if i’m completely wrong, i’m just an English teacher who reads the chans).

Q is almost certainly a team. In which case, it is difficult to make a judgement as to motive, nature. i performed an occult divination which i would interpret thus: Q’s intent is to overthrow the present order – if the latter is correct, it is beyond what i once called a palace coup; it could even extend to the Fed, which means a radical transformation of the economy. If Q’s timeline is going to plan, after North Korea Trump will settle with Iran – hopefully in a similar vein (Twitter threats, big dick swagger, then a sudden accommodation & peace); and then:

4. i talked to my father today. He said that in any normal lifetime one will experience at least one revolution, and we are going through one now. He was talking about the replacement of the white English in their own homelands; being a Brahmin-caste Catholic he is inherently a race realist and Nazi, and has had more than enough experience of the Invaders. As he put it, a few weeks ago, apropos the reason that Tommy Robinson is now sentenced to minimum 13 months imprisonment, but more likely a Kevin Crehan death sentence: “it is INCREDIBLE that the British police do not protect ENGLISH GIRLS! Well! Forty years ago, egh, no one would believe that BRITISH POLICE will do nothing!”

Many have wondered, what does the average cop think, as honorable men like Tommy Robinson are basically sentenced to death? What did the average Intelligence officer think in early 2016?

i thought of Pavel Sudoplatov, who served the Russian Intelligence Services for years before the Purge reached him also:

What i found incredible, reading Special Tasks, was that he met Stalin, Beria, ordered assassinations, was apparently exceedingly competent, and yet truly believed in Communism; until:

The door opened and two guards hurriedly escorted me to the administration block, where I was searched, and everything was removed from my possession, including necktie, pills, and notebooks. The guard took off my Swiss chronometer wristwatch, bought fifteen years earlier in Belgium, and then put it in the handkerchief pocket of my jacket. He escorted me to a prison van, and at the last moment snatched the watch from my pocket. This petty theft ended what was left of my chekist idealism. How such an act could occur in the security service occupied my thoughts, even though I was coming to understand that I was about to eliminated.

Mugged by reality, if you like. From his own accounts, Sudoplatov was competent. i don’t think an Intelligence/security service could function if staffed purely with morons & timeservers; at least at the operational/lower strategic level competence would, presumably, be essential. My guess is that the big Intelligence agencies have higher-level idiots and political lackeys (“Clowns”), and the day-to-day operations are run by the more or less competent, more or less sane (this is very much a guess).

The corruption of the higher-ups – paedophilia, rape, murder, genocide – is most likely not compatible with competence and level judgement. There are exceptions but on the whole i think that to operate at the Obama/Bush/Clinton/Blair level you need to be utterly compromised, and such folk are not likely to be wholly sane. It took a lot for Sudoplatov to realise all was not well, but at least he did reach that point (even if he remained a Communist).

In order to do your job, you need to be competent & intelligent. Such people are liable to notice if something is wrong. They are not necessarily good people (good people are always rare). But they will notice discrepancies, corruption, treachery.

5. Another point – the FBI etc. do not advertise themselves thus:

Want to enable and protect paedophiles and Muslims, massive financial corruption, the destruction of your own nation, the destruction of Western civilisation and the white race? Join today!

They don’t say

Gordon I’ve really missed spending time together:


No. They say things like:

This must be where pies go when they die.

So, presumably a good number of the civilian & military Intelligence services joined not for a career per se, but rather to serve their country. Of those, some are corruptible. But there must be a fair number of patriots, who become disheartened as they realise their employer is otherwise directed; and of those, some would eat their cherry pie and drink their black coffee and think mournfully, If only a Champion could be found, a great man, a glorious lion to fight for – oh.

6. Thus, the very nature of the Intelligence services means they will have some decent, capable men amidst the trash. Had this happened ten or twenty years from now, perhaps it would have been too late; but if i draw a parallel to academia, there are probably just enough of the old guard to take a stand.

Let the Cossacks ride once more.

Came across this by chance:

An incongruous pairing, the Red Hot Chili Peppers and a Simon & Garfunkel song.

Some other incongruous, interesting works:

1. Beethoven’s Piano Sonata 32, opus 111. It would have been composed about 1821, when Kierkegaard was 8, Jane Austen was a few years dead, Joseph Smith had conceived Mormonism, and Napoleon was dying or just dead at last.

2. Terrence Malick’s The Thin Red Line. Malick’s films have otherwise been plotless Catholic meditations, beautiful and generally incoherent and dreamy. The Thin Red Line is a war film. It features Nick Nolte. i fell to thinking on beauty & art recently, and was trying to think of genuinely beautiful works in my lifetime; there are isolated songs here & there but it is mostly to be found in TV & film, in cinematography & soundtrack, in technique. The Thin Red Line, as with Krzysztof Kieślowski’s Trois couleurs trilogy, is a fusion of technique & significance – both works, incidentally, from the late 90s.

3. A letter from Sir Philip Sidney to Stefan Molyneux. Rather surprising for two reasons, number one: Molyneux was born a few centuries after Sidney, number two: Sidney is so decorous and genteel a poet, this takes one a little aback:

Mr. Molineux

Few words are best. My letters to my father have come to the eyes of some. Neither can I condemn any but you for it. If it be so, you have played the very knave with me; and so I will make you know, if I have good proof of it. But that for so much as is past. For that is to come, I assure you before God, that if ever I know you do so much as read any letter I write to my father, without his commandment, or my consent, I will thrust my dagger into you. And trust to it, for I speak in earnest. In the mean time farewell. From court, this last of May, 1578.

                    By me,

                                  Philip Sidney

Here is a picture of Sir Philip Sidney:

Rather Varg Vikernes-esque:

And here is Varg Vikernes talking, in his decorous genteel way about stabbing:

4. Tolstoy’s Hadji Murad. i don’t really like Tolstoy, though i certainly admire his writings; i haven’t read much of his work (War & Peace, Anna K, some of his short stories): but Hadji Murad is superb and lacks the hectoring digressions & overt moralizing i didn’t like in Tolstoy’s other works, or if it had them i somehow didn’t notice. It opens with a thistle:

I was returning home by the fields. It was midsummer, the hay harvest was over and they were just beginning to reap the rye. At that season of the year there is a delightful variety of flowers — red, white, and pink scented tufty clover; milk-white ox-eye daisies with their bright yellow centers and pleasant spicy smell; yellow honey-scented rape blossoms; tall campanulas with white and lilac bells, tulip-shaped; creeping vetch; yellow, red, and pink scabious; faintly scented, neatly arranged purple plaintains with blossoms slightly tinged with pink; cornflowers, the newly opened blossoms bright blue in the sunshine but growing paler and redder towards evening or when growing old; and delicate almond-scented dodder flowers that withered quickly. I gathered myself a large nosegay and was going home when I noticed in a ditch, in full bloom, a beautiful thistle plant of the crimson variety, which in our neighborhood they call “Tartar” and carefully avoid when mowing — or, if they do happen to cut it down, throw out from among the grass for fear of pricking their hands. Thinking to pick this thistle and put it in the center of my nosegay, I climbed down into the ditch, and after driving away a velvety bumble-bee that had penetrated deep into one of the flowers and had there fallen sweetly asleep, I set to work to pluck the flower. But this proved a very difficult task. Not only did the stalk prick on every side — even through the handkerchief I wrapped round my hand — but it was so tough that I had to struggle with it for nearly five minutes, breaking the fibers one by one; and when I had at last plucked it, the stalk was all frayed and the flower itself no longer seemed so fresh and beautiful. Moreover, owing to a coarseness and stiffness, it did not seem in place among the delicate blossoms of my nosegay. I threw it away feeling sorry to have vainly destroyed a flower that looked beautiful in its proper place. 

“But what energy and tenacity! With what determination it defended itself, and how dearly it sold its life!” thought I, remembering the effort it had cost me to pluck the flower.

and 200 pages later:

The enemy, whooping and screeching as they ran from bush to bush, were getting nearer and nearer. Hadji Murad was hit by another bullet in the left side. He lay down in the ditch and plugged the wound with another piece of wadding from his jacket. This wound in his side was mortal and he felt that he was dying. One after another images and memories flashed through his mind. Now he saw the mighty Abununtsal Khan clasping to his face his severed, hanging cheek and rushing at his enemies with dagger drawn; he saw Vorontsov, old, feeble and pale with his sly, white face and heard his soft voice; he saw his son Yusuf, Sofiat his wife, and the pale face, red beard and screwed up eyes of his enemy Shamil.

And these memories running through his mind evoked no feelings in him, no pity, ill-will or desire of any kind. It all seemed so insignificant compared to what was now beginning and had already begun for him. But his powerful body meanwhile continued what it had started to do. Summoning the last remnants of his strength, he lifted himself above the rampart and fired his pistol at a man running towards him. He hit him and the man fell. Then he crawled completely out of the ditch and, with his dagger drawn and limping badly, went straight at the enemy. Several shots rang out. He staggered and fell. A number of militiamen rushed with a triumphant yell towards his fallen body. But what they supposed was a dead body suddenly stirred. First his bloodstained, shaven head, its papakha gone, then his body lifted; then, holding on to a tree, Hadji Murad pulled himself fully up. He looked so terrifying that the advancing men stopped dead. But suddenly he gave a shudder, staggered from the tree, and like a scythed thistle fell full length on his face and moved no more.

Tolstoy would have liked the Horus Heresy books, and most likely Varg.

5. Plato – Symposium and Phaedrus. i’m currently laboriously reading my dreary way through Plato and find him almost unreadably sophistic, disingenuous, self-deluded. The early dialogues at least do little more than show how language can be used for anything (post-modernism); the later are hectoring totalitarian treatises. But Phaedrus & Symposium are something wholly different, free of the directionless pedantry of the early dialogues, and the schoolmasterly fingerwagging of the later works, i would almost say Plato stole them but they seem in a sense very Platonic; as if he reworked them through his own interest. An odd parallel perhaps, but it puts me in mind of The Empire Strikes Back, a film which is so perfect, in spite of its context (a fairly interesting sci-fi trilogy, otherwise uninteresting scriptwriters & director), i am inclined to credit the Almighty intervened directly in its creation.


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