Montag, 20. März 2017



by Constantin von Hoffmeister

America is the great Faustian promise. Ancient Europeans settled North America 17,000 years ago. The Siberians only came 7,000 years later, either absorbing the white population through intermixing or outright committing genocide against the whites. Even though the Siberians might have killed off most of the whites, they certainly took some white women into their fold and thus improved their gene pool. This is probably why Caucasian skeletons like the famous Kennewick Man can still be found in North America today. We Europeans are the original Native Americans. The Red Indians were latecomers and interlopers and as such have no claim on American territory. The Mississippi and the Potomac are European rivers like the Rhine and the Volga, and North America is an extension of Europe and thus European soil.

With the arrival of the Vikings and later Columbus and the subsequent settlement and colonization of the American continent, we merely reclaimed what had always been ours to begin with. The liberal claim that America was founded by "immigrants" is a bold-faced lie. America was founded by European settlers who merely refertilized what had already been fertilized by their ancestors millennia before. The racial bond between the distant generations was thus reestablished. The racial aliens who are swamping America today, with their claims that whites are foreigners and they the true indigenous people, are the descendants of the original Siberian aggressors and should be viewed as such. They are not natives to America because they are not European and neither were their ancestors.

From its very inception, the United States was always meant to be a republic, founded by whites and serving whites, and whites only. Any American who claims that the US has always been multicultural or even multiracial is a traitor to the only true American Dream, namely the establishment of a new democratic race-based European nation on the North American continent. As US senator Stephen Douglas, who was opposed to slavery, put it in his debate with Abraham Lincoln in 1858: "I believe that this government was made on the white basis. I believe it was made by white men for the benefit of white men and their posterity forever, and I am in favor of confining the citizenship to white men—men of European birth and European descent, instead of conferring it upon negroes and Indians, and other inferior races."

In October 1916, while Europeans were slaughtering each other wholesale in the trenches and on the battlefields, one of the greatest writers that America has ever produced, H.P. Lovecraft, asked the following important question: "Do Americans desire to remain a vigorous, clean moraled Teutonic-Celtic people; or do they desire to transform their country into a sordid, amorphous chaos of degradation and hybridism like imperial Rome?" The question cannot be easily answered. America saw itself as a white civilization until 1965 when the new Immigration Act opened the floodgates to the brown hordes of the Third World. But what do white Americans think today, over sixty years after this catastrophic event? Do the majority of them view America as a white country or as a melting pot hodge-podge of all races and creeds? I believe the majority of white Americans from Middle America (or flyover country) still believe in the notion of a white America. The majority of them voted for Trump and thus confirmed that America's core population wants to remain at the helm and in charge. Their moving patterns reinforce this as well.

The main obstacle is the demographic shift and the rapid pace at which it is unfolding. That is why simply stopping immigration will not be enough to stem the tide. If white America does not reassert itself by not only implementing a total immigration moratorium but also a mass deportation of the undesirable elements already inside the country, it will be lost forever. The wall is a good start but it must be followed by much more drastic measures. The wall needs turrets!

Europe can learn a lot from America's Faustian nature. America is purely Promethean in character. The American West was won by conquest which was achieved purely through will, blood and sweat. Spaceships and missions named after Pagan gods - Apollo and Mercury, the sun god and the messenger of the gods - pierced the cosmos in the name of the race that made it possible. Eternal Rome in the guise of the Eagle has indeed landed! Doctor Faust's descendants might have lost their way but they are still striving to go above and beyond. America's capitalist system fosters the Faustian spirit. Private space exploration enterprises have picked up where the state left off.

It is no accident that the idea of cosmic terror was first championed by the American Shakespeare Edgar Allan Poe, who said, "The ways of God in Nature (as in Providence) are not as ours are: nor are the models that we frame any way commensurate to the vastness and profundity of his works; which have a depth in them greater than the Well of Democritus." To explore this depth on the physical plane has been the goal of many scientists and engineers while to reach this depth in the metaphysical realm has been the aim of countless writers and artists. Both aspects of America, the practical and the intellectual, are Faustian, by the extolment of pragmatism and the fascination with the infinite.

In contrast to the effeminate Europeans, Americans still know how to wage war. Although many of America's wars might be misguided, the fact remains that America is able to conduct both defensive and offensive campaigns. Without American help, Europe, with the exception of Russia, is not able to do either effectively or efficiently. Europe lacks a European army as well as unity and resolve, and its constant glorification of pacifism does not help matters. Gun-owning white Americans are keeping the traditional European martial spirit alive.

The archetype we have to strive for is He-Man, but what we got is Prince Adam. He-Man represents the European man in both attack and active defense mode. He-Man actively fights Skeletor and his minions who want to rule Eternia and usher in an era of darkness. Beast Man represents the subhuman and literally beastly quality of the villains that He-Man has to vanquish in order to save his kith and kin. Prince Adam lives a life of flippancy in the illusory safety of his castle, unaware of the nefarious storm brewing outside its walls. Today we have mostly gay and emasculated Prince Adams in both besieged Europe and besieged America. The Power of Grayskull is still eluding us, but as the recent election of Trump has shown, the magical transformation of Prince Adam into He-Man might not be too far off. Or to put it more eloquently in a Kantian-style categorical imperative: It's time to raise the sword and proclaim, "I have the power!" There is no third alternative.

Dienstag, 7. März 2017



by Constantin von Hoffmeister

Part I

The human race is a construct. It is not real. Human population groups are too diverse to have any one destiny in common. The white race is a construct. It is not real. White peoples are too diverse to have any one destiny in common. Nations are the soil-based embodiments of ethnically homogeneous peoples. White nationalism is a globalization ideology and thus not real nationalism at all. Fascism and National Socialism were both imperialist ideologies. Real nationalism is the enemy of imperialism and globalization. Real nationalism is separatist and democratic. Real nationalism wants to break up large artificial structures (such as empires) and reestablish natural ethnic entities (such as nations).

Part II

The Inuit in Greenland do not need aid from the European Union. They do not need Danish overlords and colonizers. The Inuit in Greenland want to be free. Their poverty stems from alien management practices imposed on their traditional way of life. Their indigenous culture had sustained them for thousands of years until the artery of their social organism was clogged by Danish cupcakes and maidens with braided golden hair dancing on flying horses with swords and shields in their hands: HOORAY - Here come the Valkyries! Doom to let Dr. Doom in... He might shake his metal-gloved fist and rage and swear and holler. But all to no avail, the mud is here to stay, everybody will have to drag his weary feet through it. Dr. Doom in his Slavic country (Latveria) will think twice if invading and destroying will give him the bliss he so eagerly seeks. Meanwhile, the Inuit are demonstrating against another Danish dam project.

Part III

The race that preceded the race is the race. King David had red hair. He was not a witch. A witch is a witch is a witch. We must watch out or the shoppers will get us before the consumers get us. To consume is to free oneself of the shadow of the past.

On the plane from Berlin to Moscow: Call of the Blood. Folkism versus Nationalism. Folkism = real nationalism. How many are gone? How many roads are broken? Who is chosen? Who can find the gods again? The state is the machine that killed the gods. The folk is the revolutionary subject. Raising the folk consciousness consciously undermines the system the state put into place to subjugate the folk. The Junkers and the lords and the plantation owners are all interested in propagating state nationalism (patriotism) as the salvation to the yearning in the folk's collective unconscious. But myths are stronger than the elite with money and lust for power and greed for money. Myths speak the truth of the blood. The folk carries the blood in its veins as it toils under the sun of the day that never endeth. The folk's sweat mingled with its blood produces the aroma of life itself. This is why the leech elite will always try to suck the blood of the folk. Like vampires, the elite needs the blood of the folk to survive and continue the feudal exploitation of those they need to survive. When the folk wakes up to this state of affairs, it will not only protect itself with garlic against vampire attacks but also band together with wooden stakes to finally exterminate the elitist plague off the face of the earth. Patriotism is a demonic concoction straight out of the NECRONOMICON. Folkism is the divine order as different faces of different folks truly represent God's different ideas. God is the gods. Polytheism does not apply.

A womanizer and a priest on a bench in Central Park. The womanizer knows that his days are numbered as his productive years have already passed him by. The priest had once sheltered a South African dictator, but now realizes that this was a mistake since the South African dictator had killed the priest's family before the South African dictator went into politics back in his own country. Back in Ecuador, drugs were still freely available in the dirty slums of Quito. Coke for a buck. High for a dime. Hanging in there. Both the womanizer and the priest are feeding on the regret that their disconnectedness from their folk produces. O, how to get back into the bosom the cycle?

Black boots on the pavement signal the coming of the Man With No Morals. He will set things right as he has no moral objection to things others might find distasteful. The Man With No Morals commits genocide for breakfast and burns down cities in order to build new ones. In the afternoon, the Man with No Morals orders the execution of all those who opposed the folk's right of existence in the past when the world was ruled by Bad Media and the leech elite. The Man With No Morals will do so without batting an eyelid. In the evening, the Man With No Morals might go boozing and hook up with some cool chicks. If he wakes up in the collective mind of the folk, the Man With No Morals has achieved the unity in freedom (sacred and profane!). The Man With No Morals also kills for thrills.

This is how coffee is cooked: buy and put it in machine, then switch on machine. Once gods came out of machines, now machines ARE gods.



by Constantin von Hoffmeister

Part I

Europe needs a nationalist renaissance. Globalization and liberal capitalism are twin monstrosities that threaten the ethnic identities of all true nations (not Frankenstein creatures like Belgium) on the globe. European nationalists must resist the siren call of pan-anything nationalism which is nothing but another form of cement block equalization. Ethnic particularisms must be cherished and upheld as a virtue in itself. Nations are the manifold manifestations of God's thoughts in heaven. If he is angry he thinks Turkey. If he is benevolent he thinks Germany. If he feels lofty he thinks England.

God made the nations in the images that he presents to himself on different days in the mirror in his bedroom. Nationalists of all colors and races must unite to form the Nationalist Internationale. Liberal capitalists are the active agents of the new Internationale. But the new Internationale is merely the old Internationale with a new and spiffy dress. Therefore the Nationalist Internationale is the true new Internationale. It is international but anti-internationalist. Nationalist unite against the Moloch of Parasitical Finance and Managerial Mismanagement!

True socialism can only be nationalist and true nationalism can only be socialist. Only one's nation can provide the framework in which one can truly prosper. Only among one's own folk can one develop an identity which is not an aberration in the eyes of an angry God. A German likes wheat beer and quotes Schiller. An Irishman likes Guinness and quotes Joyce. It is as simple as that. An Englishman in New York can appreciate the legacy of his ancestors in the architectural marvels of Greenwich Village. One need not be a loyalist to realize the royal signature of a flat overlooking Hudson Harbor.

One works for one's nation as one's nation provides for one's needs. One puts in and one takes out. Outsiders do not put in and their ancestors have not put anything in, hence they do not have the divine right to take take anything out. They are relegated to the status of onlookers with no right to participate or decide in the fate of the nation in which they are tolerated guests. The natives of a nation are the beneficiaries of the work of all natives of a nation. If one works for the benefit of the whole, one shall reap the glory of all.

The wings of the angels spread far over the land... Archangel Michael watches over the fate of Romania. Dracula still reigns in the heart of the folk living beneath gothic arches and creaking steeples. Who has seen the sword smite the enemy of the nation? Will garlic help the enemies of the nation to ward off the righteous anger of the nation in revolt against foreign domination? The door shall forever remain closed to those willing to come in but not willing to share the pain and contribute to the riches. A nation is the cradle and the grave for those involved and only those.

Part II

Nationalism is evolution in action. Practiced nationalism in different nations is applied natural selection. When one system of government in one nation fails, another system of government in another nation may succeed. When the system of government in a world state fails, the world is doomed. Diversity is nature's safety valve to ensure the survival of the species. The species' diversification manifests itself in the existence of different nations. Monocultures yield less achievements since the more highly evolved are forced to submit to the mass of the lesser evolved. Polycultures yield achievements based on the evolutionary stages the different branches of the species find themselves in. Thus, one nation can lead the species' evolution since it can be more highly evolved than the rest of the nations combined.

Humanity evolves in sections and sectors. A nation that applies technocratic principles to advance the survival and enhancement of the people will surely climb higher on the ladder of evolution. A race and folk based nationalism, a nationalism based on the solid principle of blood, will not make the mistake of blinding its eyes to the most important fact of life itself: blood determines the course of civilization. And only pure blood can guarantee an upwardly mobile civilization. Homogeneous civilizations inspire all members of a nation, thus ensuring that the nation's cultural riches inspire and build upon each other. On the other hand, heterogeneous civilizations often sow confusion since not all members of the nation can see themselves in the works produced. Cultural artefacts thus become obsolete since they are neither admired nor exalted.

Human beings are territorial animals. Nationalism is the defense of a people's territory. It is thus the political form of eat and be eaten animalistic brute behavior. We are beasts and we must defend our lair from outsider beasts! We are not proletarians and soccer moms but meat eaters and machete wielders, claws dug deep into the flesh of our defeated foes. A nation's glory is built on the bones of those willing to defend it with their life and limbs.

Evolution is dialectic. What we write today will be negated tomorrow. And the negation will be negated and thus incorporated post-past into the canon of the nation's will and testament. We will write nationalism in the 21st century and celebrate the triumph of the nation as a people as a race in the countless generations that came and triumphed before us! The Bible of the nation is written with the blood of its martyrs and saints. A monument to the glory of the nation's unknown soldier is worth more than feeding 10,000 hungry babushkas!

The flame in the tomb of the unknown soldier licks the ceiling filled with images of stars and rifles. The flame in the heart of the nation burns as strong as the flame that warms the hearth of the family that huddles around a fire in the quiet silence of a winter evening. The snow is falling and the father is smoking a pipe while the mother is cooking and the children are sleeping. All is well, but the wolves outside are walking around the house, on all fours knowing full well that their meal spells the demise of a clan.

Part III

Nationalism is realpolitik. A people is more interested in the survival of its own upper classes than in the survival of far away proletarians. Hence, nationalism could be called socialism for the folk. It is precisely this kind of folk socialism which will in the end appeal to the largest common denominator and thus ensure that the nation will survive in its entirety. The hydra is the head, but the head does not need to be cut off. It merely needs to be sent into Dr. Frankenstein's lab to be transformed into the head of a benevolent creature. Then we can stare at the basilisk and the basilisk can stare back at us, smiling.

Nationalism does not require constant self-sacrifice. It merely requires the individual to identify with the nation. This identification actually strengthens one's individuality as one is able to distinguish more readily between friend and foe and thus validate one's own position in this world, namely in the bosom of one's nation, whether one is living far away from or in the middle of it. One's nation shapes one's identity, whether one likes this fact or not! Thus a man born in Berlin will always shudder in awe at the sight of the Arminius Monument in the Teutoburg Forest. At the same time, the same man will feel rather indifferent when standing in front of the Gandhi Monument in Bombay.

A nation shapes one's thoughts and desires. Deep down, a man born in Lyons will always feel drawn to his French compatriots in countries across the Seven Seas. In a shady bar in Pohang, a Frenchman will ignore all the Korean patrons and instead strike up a conversation with the only other Frenchman at the place. A man will always feel closer to men of his own nation and race than to men of an alien nation and race.

A nation usually is a state-controlled territory that protects the interests of its citizens. These citizens usually belong to the same race. While religious tolerance should always be the norm in a strong nation, the assurance of ethnic homogeneity should supercede all other concerns, especially trivial ones like the guarantee that all citizens should have the right to watch private TV channels. Ethnic homogeneity guarantees the free expression of religious and artistic beliefs within the body politic under strict but indirect supervision of the benevolent state. A person might therefore be allowed to practice his or her obscure faith as long as this practice does not interfere with the will of the people to survive and prosper as a people.

Chaos will reign in the big house if the small house is not kept in order in accordance with the divine right of kings and gods. The masked men need not protect when the folk can protect itself. A road will be paved with gold and this road will lead to the often maligned but now rightly exalted palace of wisdom. The nation must always punish the invader for invading its soil, but it must also punish the ones that hurt its nationals on foreign soil. Foreign soil becomes national soil when the nation has rightfully conquered it or enough of its nationals inhabit it and thus claim it for the nation. A nation is not a static organism. Like any organism, it has a need to grow and expand. Living space is the imperative that guides all nations. Space must grow when populations grow. This process is as natural as the need of the population to reproduce and evolve.



by Constantin von Hoffmeister

"We all die."
-- Mr. Maggot

It has been rumored that, among other things, according to myth, there once existed a fabled kingdom of such innumerable riches that any weary traveller who happened to encounter the citadel of its capital would rub his eyes in wonder and amazement. Once Jonathan Ingwersoll, a poor merchant from Providence, Rhode Island, came upon the shore of this miraculous country. He stepped off the ship in the marbled harbor and ventured straight to the nearest tavern to slacken his thirst for beer and knowledge of these strange shores. The devil knew not what beset him when he asked a local harlot what the meaning of the strange symbol above the entrance of the tavern door might be. The harlot, accustomed to the ways of coarse sailors and brute negroes from the southernmost lands of the Dark Continent, pretended to be dumbfounded by such an obviously ignorant question.

"Well, don't you know, poor sailor?" asked the harlot.

"I certainly do not, you wench," said Jonathan.

"I can tell you only what I have heard rumored among the sailors and the ragged captains of ebony vessels. The symbol is the sign of the Great Cthulhu!" she said.

"Ah, and who might that be? A deity worshipped before the advent of the Great Savior?" asked Jonathan.

"Oh no, a deity mightier and more real than the bearded one indeed, poor sailor," said the harlot.

Jonathan lifted his diamond-encrusted mug to his lips and took one long leisurely swig.

"Ah, that feels better, my parched throat desired this golden nectar, and my soul desireth knowledge beyond worldly matters. Your words intrigue me greatly, pretty wench," said Jonathan, "please tell me more."

"I can tell you all I know for a fair price," said the harlot.

"I shall not hide what is due you if the information pleaseth me," said Jonathan.

"And you do not look that you have means at all, poor sailor," said the harlot.

"My appearance belies my means, dear wench," said Jonathan, "thus continue your tale."

"Ah, I feel the hammer when it strikes," the harlot giggled and continued her tale.

"It has been told that aeons ago, many thousand moons ago, there was no city here, no country and no people. There was a waste land of barren dunes and leafless trees as high as any tower in Cwambria today. Creatures roamed this waste land, their noses long and sharp, their beaks twisted like an elephant's tusk after a fight with a deordrodee. These creatures, tall as a house, had the power to speak through their thoughts. They decided that it was best for them to build shelter from the storm that was fast approaching. The creatures knew that this storm would wreak havoc on a scale previously unseen and unheard of on this earth. The creatures thus built a city with buildings taller than the leafless trees and streets wider than the fields upon which men today play horgbey. And from thence the creatures lived in this city, creating new cities and connecting them all with streets wider than the fields upon which men today play horgbey. Many such cities were scattered all across the waste land. Then the storm came. All the cities were able to withstand the fierce force of the storm.

"And the creatures continued to thrive in their giant cities. The cyclopean nature of the cities is still evident today. Some outlines of the giant cities remain in the deserts and steppes south of our kingdom. Our kingdom's capital was built directly on the ruins of the creature's capital, thus erasing all traces of the giant capital's shape or form. Round it must have been because our capital is round. The trees now have leaves and are small. No remains of the creatures have ever been found, although many explorers have unearthed numerous artefacts of the creature's thriving civilization. One of these artefacts hangs above the door to this tavern. The tavern-keeper legally purchased it at an auction where all kinds of rich folk where bidding for the inheritance of Mr. John Prestingworth, an explorer of note from one of our fine learning establishments."

"And whence the name Great Cthulhu?" enquired Jonathan.

"Ah, that is because the tavern-keeper is obsessed with the writings of a man who knew all about love. The writer's name suggests that he was well versed in the art of love."

"A connoisseur of the Kamasutra, I reckon?" asked Jonathan.

"The Kama what?" asked the harlot.

"I have just arrived from the legendary country of Hindustan where men make love like elephants at dusk," said Jonathan and finished his beer.

The golden spire of the capital's citadel glistened in the moonlight.

What nobody in the tavern knew was that at the same time a barbarian was stealthily climbing up the tower of the citadel. His rope was fastened on the hooked wings of a griffon. The barbarian was holding onto the rope while climbing up the tower of the citadel. In his backpack was a flask of deadly green poison. On his side a broadsword dangled. The barbarian's name was Irshun, and he descended from a long line of barbarians from the northernmost steppes of the Arctic peninsula. His father had been a barbarian and had become famous in the battle for Isfahan's independence. Irshun was five years old when Lord Mortar with his minions invaded his village and slaughtered his family in front of his innocent eyes. The gun had not been invented in those years. Irshun grew strong as a slave in the Mines of Muntar in the Mountains of Morbidity. When he was fifteen, he was bought by a rich gentleman from Verona, Italy. He was forced to fight gladiatorial duels for the delight and amusement of the gentlemen and ladies of Verona.

The arena was not on his mind while climbing up the tower of the citadel. Instead his mind was focused on the goal ahead: to seize the most precious diamond of all - the Eye of Iris! Irshun reached the top of the tower of the citadel and rested for five minutes, pondering his next move. He recoiled the rope and put it in his backpack. Then he broke down the door with his massive muscled body. A giant spider was awaiting him in the aperture! With several strokes of his broadsword he deflected the giant spider's nefarious attack and cut it into pieces. Six hairy black legs and a hairy black body were strewn across a wet floor littered with diamonds and gold coins. Where was the Eye of Iris? Like a character in the forgotten novel DOWN AND OUT IN HADES, Irshun pondered the meaning of existence while imagining a cruel scene of torture and depravity. At the end of the room was a wooden box with a bronze lock. Irshun also poisoned the king of the kingdom with the deadly green poison before returning to the Arctic peninsula where he founded a family of his own and lived happily ever after.

It was five in the morning and the bells of the belfry rang out five times.

"Time to get up and cook some breakfast for the little ones," mumbled the harlot in her bed of straw.

She got up, splashed water on her weary face and prepared breakfast for the little ones, her two twin sons, aged five.

"Mummy loves you," said the harlot when her two twin sons, named Michael and Morochel, entered the kitchen.

"We love you too, mummy," said the twin sons.

The eggs tasted rotten, and they were rotten. Two days later the harlot's twin sons died of the aftereffects of severe food poisoning. The funeral was uneventful. It rained, and only the harlot and seven of her harlot friends attended the funeral service. An old priest with a long white beard recited passages from the ancient texts. The harlot cried, and the raindrops mingled with her tears on her scarlet funeral dress. A grinning bleached skull above the cemetery gate reminded its visitors of the fleeting nature of life. After the eight harlots had left the cemetery grounds, the groundskeeper threw wet earth on the coffin while smoking a Cuban cigar. His name was Mr. Maggot and he felt like one too most of the time. His only solace was to drink cheap sailor's rum in the evening at the harbor tavern. Every evening he saw his sorrows disappear in a never-ending maelstrom of brown liquid. He finished glass after glass and stumbled home to sleep the sleep of the sleepless.

"Have you seen the fish-head man?" asked the innocent little girl.

"No, I have not," answered the innocent little boy.

The fish-head man lived alone in a barrel down at the edge of the harbor. He descended from a race of fish-head men that preceded the race of men. He was amphibian by nature and could breathe underwater. He could swim great distances at great speed, and sometimes he wrestled sharks and strangled dolphins. He only ate tuna. He worshipped Poseidon whom he had never met personally. He always kept a trident at his side for tradition's sake. The Dragon was not the fish-head man's friend because the Dragon breathed fire, and the fish-head man was mortally afraid of fire. His element was water. The sea was his true home, the barrel only his temporary abode.

"The world ended not with a whimper but with a whine," said the cemetery groundskeeper, referring to the demise of the creatures' civilization.

"Sobbing into a glass of wine never helped the cause of the fertile when doomed to extinction," said the tavern-keeper.

"Ah, 'tis true," sobbed the cemetery groundskeeper, his glass of rum empty but a few drops of his tears.

Two years later the fish-head man was exhibited in an aquarium only twice his size in freak shows all over the kingdom. People came from far and wide to gape at him mockingly. A lady bought red shoes and a red dress for a ball in the citadel.



by Constantin von Hoffmeister

"Palestine deserves a mention apart. The public is accustomed to look at the Holy Land as the cockpit where, under the guard of the British Empire, Jew and Arab are fighting for supremacy. That is only because the topical event overshadows important facts. For Palestine really is a brilliant example of post-war European expansion. The Jews have come to that country as representatives of European culture. Their fruitful effort transforms Asiatic Palestine into an increasingly European country. The Jewish National Home, in its practical realization, represents a European conquest."
-- V. Poliakoff (Augur), EUROPE IN THE FOURTH DIMENSION (1939)

Contemporary Europeans refuse to react to the potentially lethal threat that Islam poses. They do not take the actions that are required to stem the tide of the Mohammedan invaders and colonialists. Being essentially a European country, Israel is the last bastion of the true West. Israel is the Sparta of the Middle East! While young British and French men and women dance to tunes of decay in caverns of lust, the hardened men and women of the Israel Defense Forces defend their righteous country against forces that are out to destroy everything that the Occident stands for. The sacred soil of Jerusalem must never be ceded to the dirty sons of the false prophet from Mecca. The proud soldiers of Israel have been entrusted with defending the Judeo-Christian heritage of our Mater Europa on the frontlines in the Holy Land. The noble Crusaders dropped the sword. The Jews picked it up and replaced it with an Uzi. Today, Jews are the only legitimate heirs of the ancient (original) Aryans since modern Europeans have been castrated. Even so-called "White nationalists" preach anti-imperialism nowadays, saying "we are not racist." "White nationalists" always bitch about Israel being "racist" and "an apartheid state." But is this not what the original Aryans were? Israel is the only Western country that ruthlessly applies "Aryan" methods of rule and warfare, albeit in a watered down format. White nationalists are like whiny hippie girls. Israel's so-called "brutal methods" are an appropriate reaction to the aggression of the desert nomads. Europe's complete inaction in this matter is unnatural. No aggressive reaction to an aggressive action is trying to refute Darwin on a bed of glass. The absence of actions undermines the fundamental principle of the West's right to choose its own destiny. Who immobilized Europe so? Hath the Lord no mercy at this late hour?

Should the strong be forced to listen to the advice of the crippled? Should Israel let itself be told by the West how to act in its struggle for survival? Should Israel heed the criticisms of the forces that themselves have succumbed to the mob rule of the twilight people? A nation proud of its heritage is condemned by self-righteous fanatics who in their blindness cannot see the beauty of the project that is Israel: RUTHLESS CONQUEST THROUGH BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS. The will to power is evident in the might that Israel projects to its primitive neighbors. Israel is a Faustian beacon in an ocean of self-fulfilling savagery. Who condemns the strong shall reap scorn by the meek. Those who cannot do, teach - and those who cannot act, bitch. Dirty leftists donning Palestinian scarves and "White nationalists" wearing their obligatory armbands, unified in their desire to obliterate glory and honor among the Men of the West.

Hebrew Superman
Marx was right!
workers toil under Asian despotism
European genius
in the guise of the Rabbi's descendant
will liberate the toiling masses of Europe
the Golem with the Red Cape
will hoist the flag of the Mother
on the Red Planet
brilliance and ingenuity:
Einstein and Oppenheimer
two European scientists
with a mind to discover the new
and destroy the old
the small must yield to the tall!
and time will bend to the will of all!
hear, hear! the clarion call of the prophets
of old
now bold
with weapons, shaven and lusty
for purim blood in towns dusty

Instead of condemning Israel, we should applaud it. For we can learn a lot from this so-called "apartheid state" (I wish it were so!), for example how to deal with violent Muslim invaders/parasites. The IDF does not consist of pussies, as is the case in most continental European contingents. Compared to Europe, Israel does not take shit from aggressive towel-wearing wife-mutilators. Why condemn Israel for something we Europeans want for ourselves (namely an ethno state)?

And this is how it goes:

The Witch Woman walks into a shop, looks around the aisles, spots a product she wishes to purchase, proceeds to the counter and asks the Hezbollah clerk:

"How much for the 13th Wall of Hell?"

The Hezbollah clerk looks bewildered and mumbles:

"A not a man dat say a one two..."

The Witch Woman raises her broomstick over her head and bolts of lightning directed at the Hezbollah clerk shoot out of it. He is reduced to ashes. The Witch Woman does not have to pay for the 13th Wall of Hell.

And this is how it goes:

A Jew with a rifle shoots an Arab child with a rock. This is called self-defense by some, aggression by others. Naked or not, aggression is justified if exercised by the party that occupies a higher rank in the evolutionary hierarchy. No Wagner in the Gaza Strip, only wailing women tearing their hair out. Wagner in Tel Aviv, clubs full of beauties sipping vodka and Red Bull. IDF emblazoned on breasts exposed to sweat and beats. Better on a beach in Tel Aviv than in a mosque in Saudi Arabia! Better tits than bearded men!

two brothers in Belarus
show the way to their brethren
the way of the gun
show the goyshkopf
where the hebrew hammer
is hanging!
no more hiding in barns
and attics
and cellars
out in the open the fight
for survival of the people
spreading justice and death
among the haters of the people
the haters of the civilization
that spawned living space
made arable land previously sand
and hills peopled with people
with will and white
the scorpion crawling up a naked woman's bare leg, she sipping a cocktail full of waddling little umbrellas, the scorpion bites her and she croaks within minutes - poison gas used in World War I traumatized some people -
the Bielski Brothers succeeded where others failed:
creating a fighting commune under adverse conditions, sniping a few boys in grey here, requisitioning food there, all for the benefit of the board in the woods, and this is where it gets tricky:
have you seen the yellow man with the carnival hat
on the ferris wheel
waving at the gaping onlookers below?
the scene of the accident was still stained with blood.

February 12, 2009



by Constantin von Hoffmeister

on the back of dark-winged demon
we carry the message of hope
to all who see and do not want to see:
the time has come to heal the sea

those that see and those that hear
see the vision and listen to the song:
for all to see and all to hear
the sea traversed and bridges built
on land and in the sea

what our seers have sown
our farmers have reaped
we shall eat the seeds
of flowers to bloom
next to the sea
on a hill bright and green

September 10, 2008



by Constantin von Hoffmeister

sunshine on Elba:

carriages drawn on paper
cigarettes pulled out of drawers
Napoleon ate a bad egg
now his stomach hurt
he scratched his head
and wondered if Josephine would come back and wash his undershirt
he liked it if she did not shower for days
her raw smell tickled his intestines
he decided to smoke a pipe and think about this
once, when he was young, he was happy
his defeat at Waterloo made him ponder the meaning of existence
did his horse just die on the battlefield and fall on the ground under him?
did the indians mutiny because of pig fat?
or did they decide that it was time to be influenced by the malign spirit of
when was the last time he had a cup of tea?
why always eat biscuits with tea?
why not a bagel with cream cheese?
that could be had in New York, Napoleon thought
but would they let him emigrate to America, the land of freedom and waste
empty spaces and very very high mountains?
he simply did not know
Napoleon decided to write a letter to the authorities in charge to find out
then the doorbell rang
(rung by a person outside)
the phone rang
and somebody knocked on the door
lightning struck twice
Napoleon was reduced to ashes
his dog barked in the distance
a wolf howled at the moon in the fog of London
at midnight
vanished or so Jack the Ripper thought
and Jack the Ripper felt that once he had been someone else
a mighty warrior on battlefields from Spain to Russia
second prostitute's throat slashed
and Jack the Ripper could only think of the sweet fishy smell of Josephine's
and Patrick Bateman woke up
a dead prostitute with a dead rat inside her next to him in the bed
he was hungry and felt like walking over to Rudy Goldstein's
to get a nice fresh bagel with cream cheese
the morning smiled
and the sun was happy

September 6, 2008