You will have another headache tonight from unconsciously clenching your jaw tightly shut for hours on end, even while you sleep. Your shoulders are heavy and your back aches, bearing the weight of your people’s history upon them. Your drive and resolve are tested as you drone on through another meaningless shift to make ends meet, while the world marches ever onward to oblivion. You feel it in your bones that this peace is fleeting. The empire is decayed, the nation a desiccated corpse; and a very near future of struggle beckons.
Will today be the day some petty loon puts a phone in my face over some perceived slight? What kind of mob will I summon from defending myself?
Will my beliefs cost me my employment tomorrow? How long before my family will lose the roof over their heads, or go hungry if I am gone?
Will I get a visit for daring to speak out the truths of this diabolical dystopia – for simply taking my own side?
Am I next?
These are the thoughts that plague you at the dinner table, your eyes staring off thousands of miles away into the void. The thoughts of a man-made second-class citizen. Visions replaying rampaging riots, and teleprompter lies bouncing around in your head make it hard to think straight. Even in the best moments, it is difficult to keep the dark at bay.
Is my family safe in this neighborhood anymore?
What world is my child going to grow up in?
This is no way to live!
The Sword of Damocles looms overhead. Living under its shadow is taxing.
The good times have created the weak men. You live in the consequences of what weak men wrought.
I, like you, have been relegated to watch the world die through the little, black nightmare rectangle in our front pockets. From the minute you wake until the moment your heavy eyes shut, you have to navigate a minefield of lies and abuse broadcast as gospel to a faith that offers no salvation, even to its most ardent zealots who are more than willing to sacrifice the fate of you and your children for their own smug sense of satisfaction and perceived moral superiority.
You are a 21st century heretic, refusing to indulge in the delusions of a society hell-bent on your destruction. The whole world has gone mad, and yet, no one seemingly has the will to give a damn. Our culture, our accomplishments, and our history have been forsaken by the faithful, but what will be left for the faithful to offer when that no longer suffices? Our very way of life was built from those things! Their worship of mediocrity, their exaltation of the broken, and their revelry in devolution may have damned us all. The faithful are those who boastfully take the path of least resistance, and drag the rest of us along with them.
Why did the Greeks commit to a ten year long siege of Troy over a woman?
Why did the Crusaders expel the Muslims thousands of leagues from Europe and drive them back deep into the deserts?
Why did the pioneers trek across an ocean and an entirely uncharted continent, facing savages, and wild beasts?
Why did the Wright Brothers achieve flight?
Why did eleven working class men risk eating lunch on a lone girder hundreds of feet in the air above the streets of New York City?
Why did the Wehrmacht push all the way to Stalingrad against the most savage winter this Earth can muster?
Why did we split the atom?
What was it all for?
We shot for the moon, and collectively gave up on trying to achieve anything else. All of that, just to settle into sedentary complacency as we handed over the keys to our nations and civilizations. The consequences of this folly have committed our descendants to a soulless existence entirely subjugated by the chasing of worthless money while being abused by racial strangers convinced to scapegoat our children for their own shortcomings.
Our people have forgotten where they come from, and what they are made of. For if they had not, they would not suffer such injustices and humiliations.
Most are foolishly blind at best, fashionably amnesic in their gilded cages at worst, as a once noble people falls into ruin. Life is a nightmare for the 21st century heretic. Society is unraveling. Cohesion is gone. Purpose is lost. It does not plan on correcting its course. Nor can it turn back in its divided state.
Our people have failed to understand the gift that flows in their veins. That gift, that Promethean Fire, is ambition.
The medieval period had its gallant knights, marvelous castles, and pious devotion to the glory of God. The age of antiquity had its everlasting cultural mythologies and epics, its grand structures like the Parthenon and the Colosseum of Rome still standing, and its magnificent continent spanning empires. No one will look back fondly on our disgraceful era in history, for what is to be remembered? Mass psychosis of the human mind? Exporting sodomy across the globe? Infinite porn at our fingertips? Burger King? The leaders of our era are a refutation of virtue, meritocracy, and common sense. The people of their charge are a mirror image of the waste they dump into the oceans. And our gods of pleasure have no shortage of devotees. It seems some truly unholy force animates this era, keeping it stumbling along, well out of nature’s way of correcting things.
You hope and pray for a savior, or the Hollywood hero moment that never comes. Isolated and alien to your fellow man, this society has been warped to be anti-human at its very core. Genuine discussion and connections are about as rare as a wholesome television commercial. Time not spent being a modern serf is spent resting for your next slog through another week, instead of pursuing the truest endeavors your soul cries out for. Behold the fruits of individualism!
Statues topple. Churches burn. Borders dissolve. Anarchy rules. Courts abide. Freedom dies. Despair reigns.
We have been stripped of our very own identity, and disarmed of our collective might!
We are the sentries on the walls, to a crumbling castle with the gate ordered open as an army forms beyond the parapet. The so-called nobles in the keep have sold our shields to the enemy camps, loosened our steeds into the wild, and left our foodstuffs to spoil. We see every boat load of migrants hit our shores, and every caravan marching into our pastures for what they are. These are battalions of invaders whose promised recompense is your children’s future and what’s left of your father’s house. Our enemies gather round our weakened state, like scavengers salivating at their next meal. Without our collective will to fight for our own interests, we will continue to be unmade.
I, like you, did not sign this suicide pact.
We are in the collapse. For all our high technology, we have lost so very much. Sure our buildings are taller than the cathedrals of the previous era, but we’ve lost something more than architectural knowledge. We’ve lost our faiths and communities, our very identities. We live amongst the ruins of what it means to be American, Christian, Southern, Scotts-Irish, or from the river valleys, mountain communities, and once great cities.
The reverence, power and beauty of our collective faith are like the crumbled arches of Roman bridges and shattered mosaics on the floors of Roman houses.
“No longer is the laughter of children found in every home, hall and hearth. Like the water, iron and gold that once flowed from Rome.”
Nam has aptly described the great heat death of ambition: “All of history, all of our people’s great triumphs and tragedies, advancements and errors, arriving at this terrible Purgatory of stagnation where consumption and debt have commandeered our purpose on this Earth.”
Every day is a new low. Suicide rates continue to soar as our collective anticipation for a new age dies. Something is deeply wrong when most people avoid having children because they fear the world their offspring will grow into. Nothing ever happens but the slow, gradual, wholesale slaughter of history, meaning, and any hopes of a future worth living in. This is the epic conclusion of the libertarian “live and let live” shibboleth playing out into a something that is unable to resemble a civilization any longer.
Nothing is built but cheap housing and strip malls until every forest is felled. Nothing is fixed besides interest rates. Nothing is maintained but the status quo. Everyone is atomized in his own little world, stuck on his own hamster wheel, as great perils coalesce around him and the rest of the discontented masses. Not a single group, including the 21st century faithful, is happy with this world of debt and fleeting pleasures. Those who have orchestrated this great mess can only hope to direct the chaos they’ve created towards us. They know well their coalition of the damned would tear themselves asunder if not for the antiwhite glue binding them together. Can liberalism be stopped from reaching its ultimate conclusion? Or will our descendants truly inherit the Mad Max future this world deserves?
Some days you impatiently wish that damn sword would plummet. Other days you stubbornly reach to wield it. A torturous twilight of crisis and hope.
Where is the grand future that we used to believe in? The flying cars, the magnificent, opalescent cities, and humanity’s reach unto the stars?
Where are the great men of old? The Napoleons, the Jeffersons, and the Caesars? Where are the strong men they would lead? The revolutionaries, the legionnaires, and the crusaders? Much less, where are the sane men? My neighbors? My countrymen? Do they not choke on the smoke of their own houses burning? Do they not see the flames, nor feel the heat of the fire?
Where are you, White man?
Many of us arrived where we are now by learning the history of the South African Boer and Afrikaner, and understanding the boiling point was near. For many of us, events currently transpiring in South Africa have unfortunately been predicted with almost perfect accuracy. They always told us that we will come to understand why they put gates inside their homes. It is our future, only a few short decades ahead: Whites being ordered by police to not protect their families from murderous mobs of blacks. Now, we see our own lands far along the same trajectory that ends with order disintegrating, along with the civilization that bore it. If we fail to radically collectivize, our fates will be identical.
I don’t know about you, but I am not simply content to die on my sofa, to the humdrum of sports commentators, and the never ending soap opera of Capitol Hill. I will not be sated by the simulation of glory through an Xbox controller. I refuse to be numbed by the excess of drugs that offer me naught but empty revelry. I will not be entertained to death while my house is razed down around me by feral animals, and my fellow man is worked to death just to support them! The righteous anger at the ruination of my people will not be so easily stamped out!
But without the foundation of the collective, of the tribe, of the bonds between men – The Mannerbund – my voice is simply drowned in the miasma of misery that modernity foments. One man speaking out against the abuses of “CRT’ being laid upon his children can be dismissed as a loon, as a loser, and a lone dissenter who can be made silent. What happens when he has five brothers at his back? A heated debate could be mustered. What about twenty? All of a sudden, the school board is pissing their pants and getting the police to declare it an unlawful assembly of dissent! What then does that event summon in your fellow man, who, like you, hates the injustices he is accused of? Courage is indeed contagious, and if there was ever a time for a pandemic, that would be the one of choice.
My spirit, like yours, cries out for purpose in this fallen world.
My blood, like yours, burns hot for vengeance and retribution.
My life, like yours, is not my own.
I, like you, know something of history – deeds that inspire me to what life could be, beyond this dishonorable passivity.
I, like you, long for the day we can impose costs upon our enemies.
I, like you, am ready to work towards this guiltless endeavor.
Odysseus, a man I am proud to call Brother, once said: “history is measured in the before and after of when our people are backed into a corner.” This dark age we endure in, is history waiting with bated breath for what her pages will be inked in next.
Instead of being crushed by the weight of our people’s legacy, we will band together to carry it forward, driving its momentum like a spear into the heart of this malignant malaise! We will live!
This is the moment to forever seize the reins to our destiny, to leave all the ill-begotten errors of this collapsing monstrosity to be crushed under its own weight, and to forge a future befitting of our past. The glory of this undertaking shall be eternal! But I cannot do this alone. No one can.
Our foundation is brotherhood, from which all else can be made possible. It is in your fellow man you will find the strength to temper our ambition. From tribe, we can reforge a people. From this people, a nation once more.
Come my brothers, hear my call! There are walls that need shoring up, moats to be dug, nobles to be evicted, and banners to be raised if we are to outlast this coming storm. We will have our home again!