What’s new here in the Danelaw at Sachsenhausen? For the few, the brave and the bold who care about these things, I have finished the rough manuscript for a ‘Bundsman’s Runic Handbook.’ I’ve submitted it to my local Bundsmen who have agreed to review it with the directions to be brutally, savagely, and unapologetically honest with me as to what they think should be added or withheld from the final product. Once I accommodate my fellow Bundsmen’s edits I will send the thing away to hopefully become a paperback consumable product. My son now has the motor control to drink from his own bottle, is wonderfully curious about his surroundings… and thinks it’s hilarious to imitate the infamous Black Metal Growl. And objectively, he’s right, in that it spooks my wife greatly. Also, some of my Brothers are still feverishly predicting the End of The World.
Which brings me to my intended topic. I was reading one of the latest entries from Gserpent over at the Secrets of the Serpent blog. In his introduction, in a moment of amusing syncope for me, he went into some details about planet Nibiru. I had been thinking about Nibiru myself, as I had written about it in one of the last things I had written, which I believe I submitted to the Männerblog over at mannerbund.com. Anyway. Serpent touched on something which got me to thinking about something I’ve discussed in my Bund, but never really bothered writing to. It sometimes seems like people want the world to end.
And they do. I think, subconsciously and in some rare cases, consciously, and in some bizarre and frightening cases, supraconsciously. It’s not hard to imagine. Look around; the world is a joke, Clown World isn’t a funny meme, it’s a tragic irony disguised as black humour. I suppose that’s what makes it funny. Now, many of us in one way or another, have achieved enough self-awareness and consciousness to see many of the factors involved. However, if we are to be honest, such individuals are rare.
For most people, the world is a superficial organism. It’s why the meme NPC is so fitting. Most do not see beyond a very basic set of parameters. These parameters are quite arbitrary, and they are very often shallow; tragically, pathetically, even hilariously shallow. Grug. For someone who a hundred years ago would have been considered functionally retarded, and potentially consigned to an asylum; asking depth of thought is an embarrassing blunder. Yet, that functionally retarded individual is now the norm. Good show, modernity.
The average person wakes up on his mattress, which costs entirely too much money. He checks his phone for updates which is probably his first mistake. The average person does not discriminate nor source his information, he does not ask questions, nor has he the cunning to probe his sources. He does not interact, he consumes. Bugman. His mind is tabula rasa, uncritically he assumes a stream of data. Now of course, that stream of data is contradictory. Why not? He doesn’t critically construct or deconstruct anything.
Bugmen are given their permission slip to have a scapegoat. The scapegoat is a variety of absolutely meaningless social constructs such as racists, fascists, Nazis, Christians, White Sooooopreeeemistssss, among other things. These great “evils” are very rarely defined in any terminology beyond associated soundbites, decontextualized for a viewing audience, ominous proclamations from a vague series of alphabet soup agencies, and, of course; the regurgitated opinions of lemmings on the plethora of social media platforms which provide a pygmy’s retort to the world news.
The average viewer develops his world view. If we just did away with this undefined concept of “hate,” then everything would be fine. What is hate? Well that’s obvious! It’s… racism! What is racism? ‘Racism is a White Man with an opinion I don’t like because the internet!’ Bravo, America, and sadly, world. The bugman leaves his bubble. There are peaceful protests which have a curious tendency to end in fire and bloodshed. There are disturbing crime statistics including rape, pillage and murder. The consumer is an indentured servant, by any other means a slave, to his consumptive fetishes. The world is cast into degenerate perversions with such unbelievable prevalence that the Baader-Meinhof Effect is basically the de jure, de facto, degenerate norm. Why, everything has always been this way! The perverse obscenity is so overwhelming that the pitiful faculties of your average man cannot conceive of a time when things were not this grotesque.
If he tries too terribly hard, he suspiciously begins to resemble the thing he hated. He is no longer the one who “only hates those who hate,” an asinine notion if ever there was one, he is now one who hates, period. So the response of most, tragically, is to further numb themselves to any sort of critical existence. And what do we see? The profligate nation whose pitiful existence is bolstered by the promulgation of narcotics in the guise of “Western Medicine” by trusted community advisors like (((Doctors))) and ((((((Therapists)))))) and (((((((((Psychologists))))))))). They all tell him to take this pill and ignore the world, in so many words. They refuse to address the real issues of decline.
For most of us who have possessed any critical faculties in excess of a few years, it is difficult to fathom that kind of cognitive dissonance. Yet for the average consumer, the world is an overwhelming, incomprehensible, mess of disconnected images, messages and underlying themes. Explanations rendered for the bloody ash heaps of peaceful protests don’t hold weight. Neither do the defences of paedophilia among social elites, and the utter silence of their role models in condemning its ludicrously obvious assent. Beyond this he has become a walking laboratory, a chemical experiment of macabre proportions kept stable by a cavalcade of hormone altering drugs. If not this, the consumer might be dependent on bizarre socio-sexual paraphilias for their dopamine, increasingly discombobulated cultic social circles… or they might simply stay at home and disappear into the streaming services, play videogames, and otherwise wait to die… an unmourned waste of flesh who had no place in a world which strongly discourages real connections.
Because what everyone knows but cannot admit is that the social law is, and has almost always been, marvellously superficial. But the spaces between Overton Windows have shrunk so considerably since the emancipation of free speech from the Republic, and the unopposed rise of “Democracy” that few can imagine a world without the malignant spectacle of infinite degeneration. What everyone knows but cannot admit is that freedom is a lie, they are free to accept the line they almost unwittingly toe. Delightful, I’m sure. So, I think we have adequately addressed in the least why escapism is such an effective fetish.
And for a population with such normatively unimpressive faculties, is there any wonder why the escapist fare would not be dystopian and macabre? Say as you like, but there is a universal subconscious; and that universal subconscious is beholden to a social construct in decline, a global empire in the beginning stages of its death rattle. America, given the blessings of ZOG, has come to dominate the globe. A social construct with no balls, a toothless giant, a schoolyard bully grown fat by lack of opposition, whose only hegemony comes from the memory of those who once tried to oppose him. What shall happen when that opposition dies? The bully’s belly covers his knees, and when the sons of the oppressed realise the giant cannot run, they will run him down. Perhaps they will wait until his scooters battery dies and leave him to likewise die. Or else things will continue as they have, the bully will mindlessly gorge on his spoils, and the illusion that he is the menace he’s always been… until the bully’s heart explodes and he shall be a victim of his own success, and then the victims of his hegemony will be free to pick the pockets of his bloated corpse. Good riddance, the Democracy is dead and long live the Republic, so the wheels on the bus go round and round. Hmmph.
Yes, it makes sense that escapist fare is grim. With nowhere to turn but escapist fantasy that predicts the darkest imaginable outcomes of populist fever and fetish, what else can happen but an increased desire for an end to all things? After all, if escape entails a further plunge into darkness, there is no escape, and only despair can follow. The consumer might have looked into the abyss but he has scooped out his eyes with melon ballers, and eaten them on a garnish of microwave pizza. Bravo. He cannot see the truth in front of him. So the escape becomes not an escape from misery, but an escape from the impression of the very world itself.
Yes of course; if this sad, stupid world would simply end, then surely in the ashes something beautiful would rise? Even this basic assumption is denied, for in apocalyptic fare, very rarely does anything good come of ill. Let us face facts; accelerationism, annihilationhism, are all forms of cowardice. And we have all of us been guilty. Especially those like myself in Traditionalist camps, endlessly dissecting the underlying hermeneutics of the Ragnarök and Kali Yuga, Apocalypse et al. What splits us is that the common mind sees only a vicious cycle, but the Traditionalist sees an Eternal Recurrence. Still, what is often lost is that the true lesson of Ragnarök is: Man and God should be able to face fate with grim determination, regardless of outcome. He does not fantasise or bargain with death, and he hopes that in the wake of the inevitable, a paradise can be built upon the wreckage of the old, for all things change and pass away. That is the difference between the Traditionalist and the Modernist. The Traditionalist believes in a return to glory, the Modernist believes in a return to immediacy. Nothing changes, it only deteriorates.
And this principle guides things. The formerly grim affair of accelerationism became annihilationhism. And even that was not enough. Macabre destruction and humiliation has worked its way even into the sexual identity of many. Perversions such as BDSM, symbolic of subtractive fetishes in which the form is whittled away to bare nothingness, have increased. There was a well-known phenomenon of amputee fetishes, who got off on the idea of being hacked to pieces – the moneyshot being where there is nothing left. This in a world where Armin Meiwes the cannibal was allowed to exist. Cannibalism, previously a dreaded abomination, has become a quaint internet fetish. It gets worse, if you can believe it. In some forms it is as disgusting as you would expect, in others, they just call it ‘vore.’ There are also those who fetishise death itself, the act of dying has become an object of sexual passion. So much for ‘la petite mort, oh-ho-ho.’ Yes, those who wish to gorge themselves until their hearts stop, or else drug themselves into oblivion – to live so hard and fast that they simply die. These things, all of them, illustrate how deeply the rot goes, how pervasive the strain, how ridiculous the odds. If we draw yet another analogy; it is as though the very soul of the Modernist is akin to the terminally ill patient who contracts Stockholm Syndrome and rather than fight to live, he fights to die.
It is no secret that the society is diseased. What would one expect to happen, giving a species of general incompetents the absolute illusion, delusion of free reign? This is why society has always been, forgive me, fascistic. Now I say this full well understanding my application of the term. It should be beneath our dignity to define it, but fascism is simple: It is the idea of the whole of society being gathered and bound around the core ideal. Human nature is fascistic, and contrary to opinion, I am not arguing for the supremacy of fascism. It is a simple fact. I find fascism wanting, often ill-defined in these wicked times. Fascism is a destiny as inevitable as the development of civilisation itself. But fascism itself is a stepping stone, it can be only thus. Mob rule is impossible. Of course, this is denied, and humans fight their basic nature to all our detriment. Consider, even those malignant sacks of pulsating puss and faecal matter, claiming individualism, still rally around their idols like retarded lemmings. They fulfil the prophecy as they deny it. Democrats and Republicans alike are glued to their idols. Anarchists are glued to their idols. Nihilists to theirs, and all it seems to them. Fascism is unavoidable, arguing this is a waste of my time and yours.
So we have the fruits of life unexamined, lives unworthy of living, bound up like fasces around a core preaching nihilism. Nothing matters, really, other than pet social projects. And even then, it’s clear to anyone with a brain, that the elites care for those failed experiments less even than I do. Wicked Nazi that I am, I feel pity and heartache for the indignity that has been thrust upon the unprepared. Contrast this to the elected elites who view them much as I view the tools in my shoppe, objects, and means to an end.
Enough of this. The concept has been explored, I think, quite sufficiently. The solution is almost embarrassingly simple. It’s still fascism for the millions. A core must be propped up, and the core must be bound up with the armour to keep it salient. This is inevitable. What is not inevitable is the core meaning. We have been at a crossroads for some time. The horizon is vast, and contrary to the naysayers, we do not know how much time is left before the horizon’s doomclock strikes the eleventh hour. Minutes or millenniae. Who can say? I don’t trust the man who can, nor should you, he’s never led us straight before. What we do know is that for every breath in our lungs, there is yet time to turn the ship around.
It is as simple as a choice. Recognising the things we do, you are a core. Fill yourself with purpose. Will it feel real in every instance? Not at first. That doesn’t matter. It’s not about you. It’s about the whole. We are trying to save ways of living, and even living itself. You follow the hollow core of an empty regime and you have no meaning. The alternative is to make your own way. You probably can’t do it alone, few are equipped to exist in the vacuum. Likeminded men and women, principles of honour and strength, of spirituality and transcendence; are all objects that the Enemy have successfully branded quaint. Their absence informs every single malady I have illustrated. A people robbed of dignity have no depraved depth, for they have no honour, nothing therefore is beneath them; thus no abysmal parody of nature can truly surprise those of us with dignity, and the beginning of honour.
That we may yet feel shock at all is a blessing, as well as a testament to our righteousness. But conservative society should have proven by now that moral outrage, infinite offence, and pitiful indignation accomplish nothing; that is merely the death throe of the petty bourgeoisie. Let them die, they had their chance. Their meaning is inconsequential, for it is reactionary. Identity your motivation, and cleave unto those who share it. They may be few and far between, but truly, can you justify cleaving to the majority when you know as you do, what complete and utter rot and wreckage they offer?
Cleave to those of your kind, with whom you share common cause. A monumental mistake that the Identitarian Movements have made is falling prey to bringing doomsday fetishes with them from their unawakened pasts. In this way they are haunted by the spectre of the enemy as they waste their brain cells with contrived fantasies and prophecies of how the end shall come. Shall it come from Chinese invasion? Or shall CoVAIDS be the end of the order? Will it be the Great Economic Collapse? Or will Vladimir Pooty-Poots save us? By Odin’s Beard and Caesar’s Ghost I can’t tell you which I hate most. Actually, I can; the idea that Russia will save us. When has Russia saved anything? When Russia saves itself from Vodka, and America saves herself from tobacco, then perhaps I shall smile to see the cavalry come.
All pointless, prophesy detracts from action. Prophecy has always been the lowest hanging fruit of the religious mindset. By waiting for a promise fulfilled, you are nothing more than the tramps “Waiting For Godot.” Take action, take root, take stock. The true religion is of transcendence, that preaches will to power, enlightenment; and praises accomplishment, virtue and essence. Prophetic adherence is nothing more than masturbation and makes you the worst of pew-bound lemmings. For every prophecy you imbibe, you have sacrificed a positive change for your eternal now. Best to leave prophets to the future and work with your Brothers to repair the now. Let me give you a prophecy you might ignore, by giving up prophecy and building something now, you ensure a greater future. This is not to say you abandon your principle preparations or ignore variables, but few are the times men stop at the prediction. They obsess. It becomes their renewed escapist faire.
As for the rest of you… Those who read words like this and fear association with those outside the walls that the false Hadrian has raised… The hour is drawing near, and indeed may be here, that it shall cease entirely to matter if you have catered to the platitudes of enemy society. The lot is addled enough in the social consciousness, that your efforts are no longer recognised, and the messaging is stuck on infinite repeat. No extent of participation in the system shall save you, the system no longer thinks, and can therefore no longer recognise achievement. Like the CCR song goes “you ask how much should you give, but the only answer is ‘more’.” From here on out, the decline will repudiate hope of return, and your participation in mainstream thought can only supply the eternal enemy more ammunition to castrate you with. The slippery slope is not a lie, for those like myself who said it would never stop with gay marriage, now have lived to see the normalisation of paedophilia with this “Cuties” abomination. And it will not stop there. There are no sacred cows left, unless you, reader, prop them up and defend them.