Dienstag, 10. März 2015



by Constantin von Hoffmeister

We shall see who cut the dice! We shall see who cut the ribbon! We shall see who shredded the documents! It is now apparent that the Jewish spirit has not only infested the minds and souls of countless innocent young brothers and sisters. It has also entrenched itself in the ecosphere. The wind that blows from the frozen waste lands in Antarctica, slightly caressing the tops of volcanoes in South America, is now infused with tiny particles of decompository particles. These particles are partly produced by factories on the East Coast of the United States of AmeriKKKa and partly by tribesmen in the barren fields of North Etrigeia. What these particles do is well known in certain scientific circles. They settle on forests and fields and slowly transform vibrant organic life into a purely vegetative state of existence. The resisting powers of the immune systems, formerly inherent in flora and fauna all across the globe, have been totally neutralized. This means that the true manipulators, with the Asian mind and the White face, can perform mundane operations and sell them as miracles.

And the juice flowed freely from the manifold wounds that he received at the hands of his Roman captors. The juice was red, and the juice was called blood. And it took 10,000 years to build the apparatus that enabled the scientists to travel back in time to observe the christening of the Christ child. And the Christ child became the great ennobler of the great continent of Europe. Crusading from coast to coast, beheading from north to south and baptizing from west to east, the Christ child became the benefactor of the minority that secretly ruled from sea to shining sea. And the world was his oyster, and he ate it with just a bit of pepper and lemon juice. After all, he was a sophisticated gentleman as an adult. He was well-versed in the arts of deception and seduction. He deceived kings and politicians and seduced children and women. All did his bidding. Some started wars in his interest. Some stroked his ego and bedded him to receive the seed of the suckproof store storm.

And hurricanes and tornadoes and floods ravaged the sinful cities and the lecherous countryside. And the way was paved for total destruction by the breath of G-d. And the cripples limped along the wasted lands, frozen and covered in ash and debris and burnt paper. All books had been burned by a brigade of book-burning fanatics from sector AZ7. These were non-literate days. Days when humanity only ate and fucked. These were the days of the desire of the flesh. The wind-swept road to Ilniguria was littered with dead babies, fucked to death by hormone-driven barbarians from the Eastern Lands of Desert Doom. The King of Skulls presided over an army of baby zombies. This army could attack and kill any intruder that dared to sneak into the hallowed halls of Mount Grotto. King Skull was an autocrat that liked to pet baby frogs on leave from swamp tours in the seedy fields. Baby frogs 100 years old! Where the witch sowed the seeds of the Jewish spirit things did not die.

Gottfried Benn drank a strong coffee. He had just finished writing a complex sonnet about the beauty of putrefying flesh in the morgue where he was temporarily employed. Flesh of Hitler that stank to the seven high heavens cried out for mercy while struck down into the pits of hell. No amount of propaganda by the Ministry of Truth could rectify the disaster that ensued after the campaign on the icy red planet had been completely bungled by incompetent generals and mute guide dogs. The Christ child clapped in joy and went out into the nether regions, abandoning his children to their miserable fate. The Earth turned into a pit of despair, wailing bottles and screaming cans of recycled garbage piling ever higher on the seven hills around the eternal city. The clown that smiled was the clown that cried. The meters measured were the meters traversed. The toil to build the new city surpassed the force that had been employed to destroy the old one.

In rode the Beast of the Apocalypse. It breathed fire and sweated acid. Big drops of acid dripping down its hideously scaled body, dissolving the beauty and innocence of kindergartens and churches. Evangelical Christians prayed to the Christ child: “Oh Lord, have mercy on your innocent children! Show us the way to the city on the shining hill, so that we may occupy it and construct an airport where the airplane with the savior may safely land.” An accompanying tune of a deeply patriotic nature faded into the distance when the swamp was paved over with concrete and yellow bricks. The sun went down, and the moon went up. Transformed into a furry mass of fury, Gottfried Benn howled at the moon and licked his fangs, smelling his prey, ready for the kill and his final dinner. The candles on the dinner table had been stolen from an altar in a nearby church. The church would later be bombed by the ruthless killers of the Royal Air Force during a bombing raid that defied description with the demonic scope of its immense brutality.

Out walked the child with a cane in his hand. It had aged from seven to seventy in a mere seven minutes. The foreigner did not gain admittance to the forbidden city. He waited in front of its gates for days, weeks and years. Millennia passed, and the foreigner was still denied entrance to the forbidden city. The key to pleasure in his mind did not fit into any imaginary lock. He could not pleasure himself without feeling the guilt instilled in him by the strict and always admonishing Christ child seated in heaven but all around. The attack on the city was preceded by a sermon given by a priest outside the city walls. He banged on the pulpit with an iron-gloved fist, admonishing those who dared to listen with a strict voice: “The destruction of this once holy city is imminent and we deserve to kill those that will not bow to the will of the Almighty. Can you not see that it is the will of the Lord Our Savior?” And the idols were smashed, and the Christ child rejoiced. The obedience of his slaves was in tune with the laws of the cosmos.

August 17, 2008


by Constantin von Hoffmeister

Hitler and Mussolini: Europe’s ruin, destructive duo dancing in dumb do-gooders' and drained dolts’ dreams.

Ernst Niekisch argued that Italian Fascism and German National Socialism were both of Roman origin, the latter following in the footsteps of the former, thus becoming more Fascist than National Socialist, more Roman than German. Like the Catholic Church, Fascism and National Socialism established a religion. While the church preached salvation in the afterlife, the Fascists and National Socialists preached salvation on earth. The Jewish nature of Fascism and National Socialism is evident when one considers the messianic aspect of the two movements. While Jewish Christianity had Jesus as its savior and redeemer, Fascism and National Socialism had the Duce and the Fuehrer. The Roman-style Fascist and National Socialist parades betrayed their affinity to papal processions.

National Socialism is non-Germanic in nature and an enemy of the freedom-loving Northern peoples of Europe. Fascism and National Socialism darkened the heart of Europe. Goethe said that in the south of Europe, he saw “the black girls and the white bread” and in the north of Europe “the white girls and the black bread.” This shows that the Southern peoples of Europe are aliens to the Northern ones. The importation of white bread into the culinary habits of Nordic peoples is a reflection of a much larger crime, namely that of cultural imperialism, Hitler’s brown legionnaires being the Roman manifestation of its enforcement.

Hitler was an agent of Rome, serving the anti-Nordic interests of Nazi Germany’s treacherous Italian ally. According to Niekisch, Italy was Hitler’s Palestine, his promised land. Hitler’s slavish emulation of Roman traditions serves as a proof of his duplicity, acting as a fifth column inside Germany.

All pure Aryans should by nature be strict anti-Fascists. Aryan Anti-Fascist Action (AAA) is on the Race’s agenda!

Born in the Bavarian and Catholic bourgeois capital of counter-revolutionaries, Munich, National Socialism was the creation of anti-Protestant, and hence anti-German, agents of white bread Roman forces. These forces wanted to soften the German people, to dilute the Nordic race soul with elements of Southern effeminacy. National Socialism was a revolt against the Prussian spirit of social cohesion and Spartan asceticism. Goose-stepping soldiers of doom against the West, that was Prussia! National Socialism is the antipode of Prussian Socialism: South against North, West against East – the geography of struggle for the soul of Europe, eternally torn between its allegiance to suicide and its inclination to steel itself once more again. Has seen sweating cursing Slavs drink burn! Cross down, Triskele up!

Europe died on 22 June, 1941. The resurrection announced by shame in the West and pride in the East! The Messiah is dead, long live the Race! People to work, show resolve to kill time and desert the Book! The sufferings of Nordic Europe: young one shot dead, old one crippled, lest the mark be shown Cain chained to the torso of terror, terrorizing itself.

where is the citadel?
where has it gone?
it has vanished!
o wanderer of planes,
where once were columns
keeping order to murder
now there is rabble
copulating senselessly
not barbaric
but civilized and dead


by Constantin von Hoffmeister

the Reich Chancellery in Moscow elongated - also called the Lenin Library:
masses read in it and hold hands in front of it
Dresden - February 13, 1945: cowardly and vicious attack on the Soviet Union
(because the German Reich had technically already lost the war,
and Dresden was to be in the sphere of influence of Red Russia) -
its aim: to undermine the integrity
of the white people's union of workers,
the racial state of builders,
Stalin at the helm sailing towards new shores
the royal statue in St. Petersburg full of pigeon shit
(all good things come from above!)
on every street corner Lenin smiles through concrete slabs
while the Fuehrer with his rotten cane hardly erect
the Reich Chancellery in Moscow opened:
new stairs carpeted in red,
marble horses foaming at the mouth
and a lecture recited on the topic of copulation
(civilizational and breedingly recreational)
in Patriarchy Pond the Reich's Lance found
from far away, in '41,
Schulze-Boysen lit candles in a damp cellar,
summoning the Ancient, the Abraxi,
and their red horned minions
to beat,
together with the Khan beasts,
from the different Easts,
the one that dared to direct darkness.
has one ever seen the stigma on seared skin?
the image spilled in twilight
grim-faced and axe-wielding
shot by shot hacking to unite!
the Reich Chancellery in Moscow grounded:
central regime unclassifiable
(won the day young and immense)
animi duale: Fourth Reich
the fork melts
and the waterfall screams
long live the Aryan Anti-Fascist Committee! 


by Constantin von Hoffmeister


The settlers settled. Too many settlers settled in too small a space on the Western plains. The Eastern plains had long ago been vacated to make room for the settlement of the indigenous population of Nebulus IV. The indigenous population of Nebulus IV was not the smartest one in this part of the galaxy. They wore belts to keep their stomachs from indefinitely growing to the bursting point. They sure do like to eat a lot. They do, they do! And the flowers growing out of their asses are ready for the plucking when the moon is in its second rotational phase. The tower sent out deadly signals and deadly rays were used against the agitators on the square in front of the capital building. The capital building was round and soldiers were stationed all around it. Their guns loaded and their bellies empty, they waited for the agitators to arrive from behind the corner before opening fire on them, mowing them down like hysterical pigs. The deadly signals from the tower reached the ships in deep space and utterly disabled them, the crews running up and down their respective ships, screaming, "We've been hit! We've been hit!" And the slime dripped down their chins as they ate and farted and melted and died.


He called and talked. He ate and read. A book about Thomas Jefferson and the making of America. He played the violin for an hour and then retired. He woke up five hours later and ate three hard-boiled eggs. He walked to work with his briefcase under his right arm. Three cars passed him on the way to the office. The sun was already high in its zenith. Evidently the trash had not been picked up the night before. All the trash cans in the city were overflowing with trash. He put a handkerchief over his nose and continued the walk to the office. A bird was circling overhead. A vulture was circling overhead. A man was lying in the street. A dead man was lying in the street. He walked over to the dead man and looked the dead man in the face. He realized the dead man was him. A vulture was circling overhead. He woke up with a start. He ate three hard-boiled eggs and walked to work with his black briefcase under his left arm. Two cars passed him on the way to the office. It was still dark so early in the morning in wintertime.


The aliens landed on an alien planet. They planted alien seeds in alien soil. Alien plants sprung up in alien fields. The aliens wondered why everything was so alien. "Probably because we are on an alien planet," one of the aliens said. "Farming has never seemed so alien," another of the aliens said. Both aliens walked along the alien fields, scratching their alien heads while marvelling at the alien landscape all around them. The alien moon was shining its alien light on the alien planet were the aliens were harvesting the sap from the trees they had brought from their home planet. The alien soil changed the chemical composition of the sap they were harvesting from the trees. The sap tasted alien. It did not taste the way it did on their home planet. The aliens used the sap that had become so alien to them to grease the engines of their UFOs. Soon they would be able to leave this strange and alien planet. Back on their alien world, the aliens would cease to be aliens. The name of their home planet did not sound alien to the aliens while the name of the alien planet they had landed on surely did.


by Constantin von Hoffmeister

London is killing me
the Queen is shitting me
Lord Nelson is fucking me
Oxford Street is full of pavement
dwellers dwelling in seedy stardust memory bars
the windows barred
no one can see what is inside the looted store
the ammunition full of ammunition!
the guns blazed a haiku written a nun raped a priest strangled
o Lord! the mercy doled out to men on the dole
eating coal and the mole identified
the spy! the traitor! executed on the spot where Churchill was born
a hive of criminals and subversive elements discovered
underneath the market in Camden Town an illegal opium den
where soft words of love and addiction are spoken easily
beneath the Tower a dungeon unbeknownst to men of virtue
the Queen was not raped with a chainsaw after all
the Queen is the Mother of us all the Queen is virtue incarnate the Queen
is the Queen is the Queen
London Bridge fell down in London!
and a cheap-ass dawn is rising over the desert in Lake Havasu City!
sold for scraps, England, the old beached whale, is slowly desertifying
o come on, ye nomads! pitch yer tents in yonder park!


by Constantin von Hoffmeister
To attain equal rights to set off a general revolt. A grave strategic mistake not seem more understandable. Cunts kill cool cats. I went to the store to buy a gallon of milk. I went to the store to buy a shotgun. I went to school for an exam. I went to school to vent my anger. I went on a shooting spree and blasted twenty-seven seven-year old girls. Blood and brains on the carpet in the algebra room. In the gym I worked out to vent my anger. I was eight years old when the man in the black cape came into my room at night, wanting to suck my blood and my cock. I started working as a driving instructor, my foot on the imaginary brake and my hand on the knees of the female students. Sometimes my hand would wander under their skirts. This only happened when we parked and never while the car was in motion. That would have been dangerous. 
A man in a white vest walks up to my table and demands to see my identification. I show him the middle finger and tell him to piss right off. He does not walk away. Instead, he sits down and orders beer for the both of us. We drink in silence. After we have both emptied our glasses, the man gets up and lights a cigarette. He stands in silence while smoke drifts out of several holes in his throat. I did not notice these holes before. His white vest has stains on it.
I pull down my pants, so that the ants can enter my anus. The tickling sensation of the ants entering my anus makes me giggle. I am sure I read somewhere that having ants settle down inside your body will make you less of an individualist prick. I want to belong and the antsentering my anus will help me achieve this goal. Finally I shall become a member of the group that I am a part of. My ethnic interests demand that I subjugate myself to the process of having ants enter my anus. The ants form a collective. One of them grows really large, and Clint Eastwood as the pilot of a fighter jet has to destroy it.
When I was a man, I dreamed of being a woman. Now I dream of being a man. Sometimes I dream of being neither. And then I dream of being either. Is a man a woman, and is a woman a man? Are both sexes like a plug and an outlet? Is the connection severed when the plug is pulled out? The cowboy moaned in a dusty bedroom above a bar in Butte, Montana. Downstairs, having just finished a shift in the mine, the miners were streaming into the bar to clear their dusty throats with beer.
Red ribbons floating on the river. A raft floating down the river. People on the raft. People not noticing the red ribbons floating beside the raft.
My heart is bleeding. I forgot my sunglasses at the bar last night. I suppose I should pick them up, but it is always better to buy a whole new pair. One feels like a completely new man that way every time one forgets one's sunglasses at the bar. The sun is coming up, and it is already blinding me.
Then it should not fear who violate blood.
July 24, 2008


by Constantin von Hoffmeister

"My barber is a smelly Indian."
-- Winston Churchill

He came in and put the comb on the table. Dinner had been shit and the prospect of boozing all night with Joe Dinario did not cheer him up. He walked over to the old refrigerator, opened it and pulled out a can of Heineken. Opening it, he thought of his cute little sister and burped. He usually smelled like curry and he quickly put his nose under one of his armpits to check if it still smelled like curry there.

Ah, yes! The man with the axe to grind... Waiting outside the barber shop, his knife sharpened and his toolbox ready to disclose its contents to anybody who might be so unlucky as to be walking by. A hammer on the head, a screwdriver in the balls... Blood-stained wifebeater and the can of Heineken getting heavy, he closed his eyes for a second and thought about his time in Vietnam when he was shooting those damn screaming gooks. His gook wife did not put up with him emulating the gook screams at night. She left him and took the poodle with her. The poodle that always shat over the damn couch...

Back when he was growing up in the slums of Bombay, he admired those shiny and green-eyed Bollywood stars. They were heroes who shot the bad guys and then drank a shot of spicy Old Monk and smoked a Wills. He drank a can of Heineken and smoked a bidi. SUPERMAN was on TV in the office of the barber shop. Christopher Reeve before he was a cripple was flying over the skyscrapers of New York, in the film called Metropolis. He did not watch the movie but instead watched the people passing by, an old negress with a shoppingcart filled with trash, a white-haired bum who had soiled himself.

And that was the end of the line. He had saved all his money to buy a wheelchair for his sick mother, but now he was wasting it all on booze and drugs and hookers. The last hooker was neatly packaged in the freezer in the basement of the barber shop. He looked at the toolbox and took a sip of the Heineken. He farted against the wall behind him. It was a wet one. He used his left hand to waft the smell into his nostrils. Sweet...

Like butter running down his legs, his shit in rivulets dripping from his asshole down his legs and into his shoes. He was high, high as a kite. Above the slums of Bombay and above the barber shop he glided, like Superman without the muscles. Sirens calling and horns blaring, the police found his body two days later in an alley filled with dead horses and heads of dead hookers. They never did figure out where the rest of their bodies were located. Burned, sold and shipped? A rusty oil tanker off the coast of Vizakhapatnam does not look suspicious at all.


Joe Dinario came to the board meeting late. He had missed his bus because his damn wife had burned the bacon, so he had to force her to cook more bacon. As usual, he had threatened to beat the bitch. She simply would never listen to his wise words. Ah, women... You can't live with 'em... Joe Dinario opened the door of the office and stepped in.

The board meeting was boring as usual. The Man was talking about facts and figures and everybody attending was pretending to listen attentively. Joe Dinario was past pretending. He felt the knife in his pocket and smiled. Nobody noticed his erection. He felt his stiff cock under the table with his left hand and felt satisfied that the prospect of a good clean kill could still excite him so much. He had not felt that way since 1969 when he stripped at the Washington Mall and got beat up by two drunk cops.

The plane outside glided by noiselessly as the room was soundproof. The plane hit the tower. Nobody except Joe Dinario seemed to notice it. Joe Dinario felt the knife in his pocket and felt excited. One down, one more to go... The Man mentioned the delay in shipping, Chinese bureaucracy and the bribes necessary to get the products into Russia. Joe Dinario yawned and took another sip of his coffee in front of him.

The board meeting was over at two o' clock as planned. Joe Dinario was the last one to exit the office. He followed the Man down a rusty flight of stairs. At the bottom, he turned to the Man and showed him the knife which he had pulled out of his pocket. The Man was delighted when he beheld the shining blade. It felt warm and fuzzy in his stomach.

The sun was setting and Joe Dinario was driving home. His wife was going to pay. She had it coming. Joe Dinario turned off the car radio, opened the car window and listened to the birds chirping as he pulled in the driveway. The trees were in full bloom and some lousy neighborhood dog was barking a couple of blocks down the street.


At two o'clock the world ended. Not with a bang... The world ended on a regular basis. This time it ended while he was at the movies watching CINDERELLA with his beautiful niece. He had to hurry before the end could catch up on him. He made it just in time.

At three o'clock the pizza guy came with the meat lover's pizza. It was tasty and salty and the hot cheese burned the top of his mouth. His niece was not crying anymore. She was neatly packaged in a big box on the kitchen table, ready to be shipped. To where? There.

At four o'clock he boiled his cock. It hurt but he pretended it did not. And then it was the end of the world creeping up on him two hours late.

At five o'clock the neighbor knocked on the door. His wife answered the door and said that her husband was not home. That was a lie.

In the end they met.


The spaceship arrived. Two aliens got out. One of the aliens patted the other alien on the shoulder as if to reassure him of something significant. The aliens were on a search for a suitable specimen. They desperately needed to do some anal probing. They found a man in his mid-sixties. They abducted him and performed anal probes on him in their flying saucer. The aliens were green not grey. One of the aliens remembered his mother's birthday and called her after the anal probe was over. The man in his mid-sixties had not had a haircut since 1969. He was not a Sikh but a redneck.

The aliens left at noon. They had lunch on Venus before returning home. At home, one of the aliens' wife told the alien that dinner was going to be late. The alien said that he would wait down at the alien pub. His wife was to deliver his dinner there. He had a couple of alien beers with his alien friend. They discussed Earth matters. To colonize or not to colonize? That was the big question of the evening. The alien agreed with his alien friend that to colonize was the wisest strategy.

Two hours later Mr. Smith called and demanded an apology. He felt insulted. He demanded an apology from his former enemy and now friend Mr. Miller. Mr. Miller was not forthcoming. He did not want to apologize. He felt that he was in the right and Mr Smith in the wrong.

Twice a day the doctor was away. No matter! Mr. Smith wanted to get a haircut and not an appendix operation. After finishing his breakfast of bacon and eggs and fresh orange juice, he walked over to the barber shop. Unfortunately the barber shop was closed. Mr. Smith felt alienated and cut his own hair.

Mr. Smith was never abducted by the aliens. He did dress as an alien once at a Halloween party in New Jersey. That is where he met his future wife. Her name was Elena and she was of Russian descent. She was not a mail order bride but the real deal. Mr. Smith felt blessed to have met her. She ironed his shirts and cooked him pelmeni for dinner. At night she sucked his cock for free. He pulled at her hair when she sucked his cock. Then he fell asleep and dreamt of black sheep on a white background.


He-Man is a Nordic Warrior. He has to fight evil Skeletor and his horde of subhuman mutants. He-Man is also Prince Adam. That is his secret identity. He-Man is a real man while Prince Adam is a bit gay. Castle Grayskull does not look inviting even on a bright sunny day. The skull gate reminds one of the deceased in crowded cemeteries all across Baltimore. Baltimore reminds one of London. It has a very English feel to it. The Indian restaurant on High Street comes highly recommended. He-Man's green tiger only eats cat food, though.
He-Man needs a haircut. After all, he is no barbarian like Conan. He-Man is the blonde beast from Susan Sontag's wet imagination. Splendidly He-Man wields his sword in front of his own shadow and when the lightning strikes him, he has all the power! For Eternia and its people he goes into battle, smashing vehicles and throwing Stinkor around in mud puddles.

Where does Prince Adam go shopping? He buys a few apples at the grocery store and unknown fruits at a strange little shop behind Orco's abode. He does not buy slaves as slavery is obviously illegal on Eternia. Once, as Dolph Lundgren He-Man came to Earth and battled his evil pursuers on our blue planet. Evil-Lyn was feminism incarnate. She radiated poison and men trembled when she spoke the dreaded words that stung like a whip.

1,000 years ago witches were burned at the stake for uttering words that seemed like madness to their contemporaries. Today these words melt like little nuggets of wisdom in our ears.

The barber shop never reopened.

NORDIC SCREAM – Introduction to AmeriKa

by Constantin von Hoffmeister
hagen von tundra a faustian soul tells the story settlers settled straight the border cut through grass swamp plain abound the tide turn west blinding glare a heap of red corpses and this is where the credits set in boils the blood ash pale drawn revolvers and repeating rifles firing down a desolate range the biosphere redeemed for noble treks passing through icy winds at early dawn's light remember the castle besieged on all fronts the wagon tents flapping with disgust at invaders' nonchalance the savage beasts kapow! kapow! goes down one feathered fellow barely limping like a weakling in a worn and stolen saddle presents then! and where now? too wild the bears too tame the women setting tables preparing the hearth the men out there planting and digging their own graves not yet generations to come gazing inward reflecting their refinement and ahead the scape stretching skyward do you smell the firewatered palms upturned begging for scraps? in the middle of a passionate heartland roaming roving red-boiled rage to kill the reds to scourge the country of its plague and line by line designed a complex grid of lanes and trains to modernize to civilize an ancient land of evil intent through the mercy of god washed clean and shine a thousand scrapers in the sky and never listen to the dead half-beast's cry

September 17, 2003

by Constantin von Hoffmeister

The spirit of Thule, the myth of Thule - the Black Sun, the White race. The Aryan Adonis hailed in secret whispers in closed dark rooms in basements where dwell the remnants of a once popular sect, now reviled, banished and, like lepers, sick to their grisly bones. Ready to bow in front of an altar that has been tarnished with the blood of millions and millions of their fellow White race crusaders, soldiers in vain fighting their brothers in pain. Sayeth the soothsayer in red: "Seen the bloody crusader carousing through a rebellion of righteous revulsion, rebellious recognition that all that was is what should be, altered, morphed into a projection of a psyche that - flux through flux! - has evolved and regressed, advanced and devolved. A pity the shame brought on the lame! The sickly sent their children to die in exploits of exploration while at home the elderly ruled. Tomorrow a repetition will mean disaster, will spell nostalgic doom. Sails set on ships bound for the outer rims will not glide smoothly but be hindered by obstacles obstinately created by Thulean terrorists." And was the soothsayer speaking words of wisdom? Alas, ey, mate!, the rule!, the book!, we must go by the book! THE book? Ay! THE book! But THE book has to be rewritten! It has to contain the pearls AND swine, the glittering and the earthy, the risen and the fallen. Lucifer spread his wings once, his tail now tucked neatly into a hidden pocket in his black coat - strolling down the bricked street, Lucifer (now the devil) wishes well to those who followed his path of development - from celestial to mundane, from wishing well to spelling gall. Bitter, forlorn, Lucifer and his Thulean minions now march into a future that was never theirs, propagating the disturbing distortions of an inverted heaven: Destruction termed good and creation termed bad, survival of the lying tops the procreation of the productive. Where ruleth the mob aristocracy? The soothsayer sayeth: "In terms of black, white and red, changes have been advised and executed. The black, as a color always uniformed, has been transferred to a new post, far outside the bounds of the snowy hills and the ice-capped mountains of Inverness, to patrol in split-eyed seconds the villages where dissent might still murmur. The white has been chosen to be the color not of truce but of regret, and therefore it has been abandoned altogether. The red is, was and will be the color of anger boiled to meat torn apart. It stays with us, here and far ahead." And thus it is and shall be.

Part II

Jaques de Mahieu (veteran of the Waffen-SS Division Charlemagne) argued that once the Vikings founded a great empire in Latin AmeriKa. These Vikings were the blonde sun gods that the Aztecs still hallucinated about centuries later when Hernan Cortes (another sun god) came to slaughter these skraelings. Ullmann from Silesia first arrived in the Gulf of Mexico in 967. After conquering the empire of the Toltecs, he ruled it for twenty years. After Ullmann and his faithful followers returned from an expedition to the Yucatan (where he introduced high culture), he found that the White warriors, who had remained in his empire, had mated with skraeling women. "Little mestizos" were "the fruits of these couplings." Ullmann was saddened by this wanton act of mass racial defilement and left Mexico. Ullmann and his faithful followers then crossed Venezuela, Guatemala and Colombia. Everywhere they went, they left outposts of Aryan civilization (rune inscriptions, temples and settlements). After he reached Peru, Ullmann founded a large empire that reached from Valparaiso in Chile to Bogota in Colombia. Ullmann's White knights were surely the founders of the great cultures in Latin AmeriKa. After the large Viking empire fell (because of a skraeling invasion), the remaining White knights became the ruling class of the Incas.

by Constantin von Hoffmeister


sirens sounding

bombs fall on London, the city of sleepy angels and horny demons
Churchill is a fuckin' drunkard, smoking his tenth cigar, abusing his bitch and getting his dog beat by his bodyguards
Ah the car comes around ze corner watched closely by pickaninnies
flushed and gurgled before bed
Churchill was a great statesman
he never wore pink slippers while stepping into Downing Street to buy a pint of milk
his cat liked the milk a lot
GOSH! i have seen hell and it looked pretty
like a rose garden bulldozed and replaced by a real pretty strip mall with shops that sell things like blue ice cream and anal spray


sirens sounding

and when Churchill was young he also liked to torture kittens and kill little bunny rabbits hop! hop! hop!
hip-hop was not popular when he was prime minister
young people still went to war and defended the exotic empire at its erotic borders
bedtime story wet dream soldier's dream indian washerwoman in bombay picked up and penetrated in a deep well beneath the Black Hole of Calcutta
done the laundry
and folders closed case closed


sirens sounding

i like to see china dominated by the white man
i like to see bombay hounded by silence
and i would certainly like to see you caned for your insolence, young man!
Churchill looked out the window and saw the garden in full blossom. he farted contentedly and looked inside himself. he found a little bit of his youth but decided it was quite worthless now. he threw it into the bin of memory eradication and lit another cigar. the smoke reminded him of memories burnt and gone. the future looked rosy.
the man did what the children asked.


sirens sounding

September 4, 200
by Constantin von Hoffmeister
It would be in Iran's best interests if AmeriKa invaded it and forced a regime change. Iran is infected with the virus of Islam. Iran is not an Arab country but an Aryan country. This is why Islam has no deep grip on the collective psyche of the population. The Shah must come back, and Zoroastrianism must be reestablished as the official state religion. Iran should ally itself with Israel. Together, the two countries could be the powerhouse of the Middle East. Degenerate and subhuman Arab countries would have to pay tribute to their Iranian-Jewish overlords.
The Zerg invaders are a devious bunch. They are actually reptilian shapeshifters, and they already have their agents on earth, working tirelessly to undermine the White race's natural defensive instincts. These shapeshifting alien reptiles occupy the highest positions in the ZOG. ZOG does not really mean "Zionist Occupied Government" but "Zerg Occupied Government." If we want to defeat the evil Zerg invaders, we must contact our National Socialist brothers in Neuschwabenland (in Antarctica) immediately. After all, these dedicated defenders of the Reich and Adolf Hitler (who lives in a secret cave in the Andes, sometimes drinking cheap rum with Miguel Serrano, watching catfights between inbred Teutonic whores from Nueva Germania) have UFO technology, salvaged from top secret technological research facilities in the Third Reich at the end of the Great War to Destroy the Pure Aryans (World War II). These modern National Socialist knights have further developed this UFO technology and are said to have now the capacity to travel twice the speed of light in their "discs." If it was not for the Bolshevik beasts (that were and are the natural allies of the Zerg invaders - after all, everybody knows that Lenin was a Zerg agent [while not a Reptilian shapeshifter himself, he was a member of the Jewish golem race that the Zerg invaders created aeons ago]), the National Socialists would have been able to defeat the Zerg invaders during the Great War to Destroy the Pure Aryans. Now, the loyal followers of Hitler will soon launch a final crusade to wipe out the Zerg invaders and their insidious golem followers once and for all! They have only hesitated so far because they want to see the course of history develop towards Point Omega. That is when the legendary existence of the Abraxi will be revealed for what it is: a hoax!
Judaism was heavily influenced by Zoroastrianism (dualism: Heaven and Purgatory, Light and Darkness, Yahweh and Satan, Ahura Mazda and Ahriman). Jews were treated well in the Persian empire after the Persian king Cyrus released the Jews from the Babylonian Captivity and let them move back to Judah. Ahmadinejad must be replaced by a new Cyrus who, instead of wanting to destroy Israel, helps protect and nurture the Jewish state. Israel is successful because it was founded and built by EUROPEAN Jews. Arab states are not successful because they are run by Semites. Iranians are not Semites. They are the brothers of Europeans. Iran and Israel must become true beacons of the Enlightenment in the Middle East, guiding lanterns that illuminate the darkness that the Koran imposes upon an ignorant and savagerace.
George W. Bush is a shapeshifting alien reptile. Not only him, but Tony Blair and Michael J. Fox as well! Zerg invaders are not overlords. They work behind the scenes. But having once created the golem race (the Jews, who else?), the Zerg invaders have been overthrown by a slave revolt of the golem race. This slave revolt was a subtle one, though, since everybody knows that the golem race is too pussy to actually engage in physical combat. So, this slave revolt was an insidious takeover of power, achieved through deviousness and moneylending (the currency of Zerg is the &%*'''KKKllop). Now, the elitist part of the golem race is working behind the scenes, controlling the Zerg invaders who in turn behind the scenes control the still manipulated golem race who in turn control all the workings and machinations of the White nations.
Israeli Jews and Iranians are the most advanced peoples in the Middle East. This is entirely due to genetic factors. Israeli Jews and Iranians are closer to us genetically than the primitive Arabs are. This is why an alliance between Iran and Europe/Israel is more natural and sounder than an alliance between Iran and the Arab countries. Israel is basically an integral part of the Occident and Iran can be made to be as well. Once Iran is liberated, it should be settled with European Wehrbauern (warrior farmers) that help lead their Persian brothers back into the cradle of Aryan civilization. The Wehrbauern should lead by example, slowly cleansing Iran of the debilitating spirit of Islam and modernizing the country through technocratic means (education in the arts of true Aryan science to combat Semitic superstition). This is similar to what the National Socialists intended to do with Russia, except that the Russians were not mentally polluted with a beastly religion. Right now, due to Islam's malign influence, Iran is in a state of devolution. This situation can and should not be accepted by civilized men of the West.
The golem race needs fresh injections of Zeta juice twice a week. Only the Zerg invaders can provide this life-sustaining elixir as they harvest it on their home planet and ship it regularly to Earth. Every month, the golem race eagerly awaits the Zeta shipment from the Zerg invaders' home planet. It is because of this fact that the golem race, although nominally lording it over the Zerg invaders, is inextricably bound to the Zerg invaders' supply chain. After all, the golem race does not have the extrasensory ability to travel between planets. The Zerg invaders set up several stargates on Earth through which they can travel at will, using only their will. The golem race may threaten to artificially manufacture Zeta juice and hence break the Zerg invaders' monopoly, but this will never come to pass as Zeta juice is not a physical substance but a psychic one. Of course, the golem race does not know this. The Zerg invaders, far from actually being subjugated by the golem race, are quite content with their new status. The Zerg invaders have become astute observers and diligent recorders of the golem race's international manipulations. The Zerg invaders are content because the golem race is actually doing their bidding. Zeta juice contains mind-altering agents through which the Zerg invaders transmit commands to the golem race.
follow the moon
to its conclusion:
the feminine aspect
with big tits
tit for tat!
sin for solution!
the bearded prophet
one of them
hung like a sheep
the Abraxi answer:
follow suit!
in a suit
with passion pondering
There goes the manly delight! In a cell we are all the same. It is called burial desecration. The Zerg invaders poised to invade Iran, used by the Abraxi - to impale the brown horse on the white stick. Good riddance! The skull looking up: killed the babies in cold blood, the newborn born again. Drive the last mile. Dead end alive! No time to be alone. We are memories before the Dawn. Wearing slacks for the party to come, desensitized to ribbons. The son that killed is our Sun. Postmodern. Warhol wars vampires.
Long live free Iran! HAIL Zarathustra!

by Constantin von Hoffmeister

how do fuckers fuck?
rappers rape rapists
DATE: DEC 21, 1971
just sitting downstairs
making this noise
wheezing choking gurgling
she is dead the bitch!
the corpse still glowing
you can still use the blade
to cut off the clitoris
the tape is in the safe
the coffin is pink
you are happy and loved
in Spain lips congregate
she gave him a rose
and he was happy
while sucking his cock
she gave him a rose
and he was happy
"You are my king,"
said the Queen.
the skin cannot be trusted
after the victim has been skinned
and the skin is stretched
across a happy little ball
so he took the knife with him
and his buddies took him on the hunt
hunt the dogs
that ran away from their masters
does a true master cry?
the dog died
after he peed on the carpet
a true master
never wears socks in the house
"She will give you
a big kiss," said the Queen.
"That will make everything alright."
on your honeymoon
you can shoot Dutch people
even though the microphone
is visible on the screen
I want to spend time with my king
locked in the fortress
cutting my wrists
while he sucks my toes
"I'm not a slut!
I'm a good girl."
noses grow in the field
while teeth lock around cocks
and brains cry torrents
tears overwhelm Paradise Island
the architecture was stunning 
in the City of Sorrow
the old man was so old
he could barely climb up the steps
of the cathedral that burned

by Constantin von Hoffmeister

Part I

jewish avengers
slavic avengers
accents similar
and faces southern
the movie the mother of all simulacra
nothing real
everything permitted
including omission of rigorous training sequence
the dirty dozen trained to kill
not action figures out of a box
basterds kikes
kosher porn
nazis beaten with baseball bat
death to revisionists!
a map behind hitler shows
soviet union all nazi occupied
communists are not mentioned
for tarantino they do not exist
tolstoy in his grave turns
nation's pride
the film within the film presents some heroic scenes
the shooting of americans by brave german soul
but the bad german souls stabbed and beaten and shot
nazis hunted and nazism finished
exterminated by avenging angels
jewish basterds
but not all the basterds' victims are nazis
some merely german soldiers following orders
where is the justice in not taking prisoners?
how does a german order three whiskies?
two fingers and a thumb
is the thumb not a finger in the US?
is the thumb a smaller glass of whisky?
to give away more than one can handle of the truth
the french farm house 
morricone music
could have been somewhere in the wild west
the french man after cutting wood
speaks english but succumbs and cries
witnessing wanton cruelty of hollywood nazi beasts
hitler mowed down
the cinema shows
inside a cinema
what a real fire looks like

Part II

the SS man speaks many languages
the basterd makes a typical italian hand movement
but the SS man speaks fluent italian
that is an embarassment!
the token negro smokes
and kisses the blond french woman
black on white tarantino's nigga obsession
the nigga a french man the white woman says
modern liberal paradigm in war time france?
once upon a time it says
but then 1941
that is rather well defined!
(once upon a time i smoked opium in the attic
fell asleep and dreamt of electric rose petals)
fredrick zoller no aryan archetype
should have used a blond beast instead 
and not this central european mixed look
knife carving foreheads
singing beer and drinking songs
but one language to rule them all
arrivederci with thick thick american accent
a glimpse of the monolingual primitivism of the future?
cultured SS officers as resistance fighters
against the tide of unilingual monotony?
or the basterds the saviors of a france
destined by the nazis to become german speaking?
france remains french because of basterd intervention!
a french speaking nigga is more french 
than doggy styling monoglot goebbels
the bat shall smash the skull!
in gotham the bat uses no weapon at all

Part III

a damp cellar beneath the Tower of London:
two beggars are chained to a wet wall
water is dripping incessantly on their heads
they had escaped the hell of hitler's war
two nazis on the run
begging on leicester square
picked up by the bobbies
their warden always mocks them
tells them of the basterds' exploits
on the continent
"ah, them basterds give them nazis a fine lickin'!"
and the war ended a year earlier
because of the basterds
tarantino creator of parallel universe
the nazi beggars ended up cleaning lavatories
in the palace of poverty
at the paris cinema riefenstahl film
then a change of program
apocalypse in the cinema
the nation's pride spelt the nation's doom


by Constantin von Hoffmeister

All is race there is no other truth is a rose is a rose is a race is a race
And towering above all other truths is the wisdom to spill blood for
the sake of blood
The choice to perish in the struggle for the greater good and the
glory of the rose that blossoms in the heart of the empire

by Constantin von Hoffmeister

"The Jews are the backbone of the White race."
-- Albert Caraco

"God works by races ... The Aryan and the Semite are of the same blood and origin, but when they quitted their central land they were ordained to follow opposite courses. Each division of the great race has developed one portion of the double nature of humanity, till after all their wanderings they met again, and, represented by their two choicest families, the Hellenes and the Hebrews, brought together the treasures of their accumulated wisdom and secured the civilisation of man."
-- Benjamin Disraeli

The Jews won World War II. They earned their ethnic homeland through blood, sweat and tears. In fulfillment of G-d's wishes, the ancient Israelites returned to their ethnic homeland remade in the image of Michelangelo's King David. As we see, control has shifted from the blue-eyed to the blue-eyed. Red-haired and willing to use the room and the gun, the red-haired and blue-eyed look ahead with renewed fervor. The room symbolizes an enclosed encampment. The gun symbolizes the tower from whose top the world can be seen and surveyed. Ah, the gaze that met a thousand tears! 

Only one language is now spoken in the tower. And one people rules over all other peoples. This people is the people of the book. The book has been completely digitized, so there is no need to leaf through its pages. Simply click on the bottom left corner of the screen. The snake inside the machine replaces the god inside the machine. No more deus ex machina! From now on, the snake will rescue all with beating wings and slithering tongue. Lucifer reborn in the body of the snake in the shape of a people that is both psychopathic and divine, insane and holy, demented and righteous. But is not a certain man demanding an axe with which to kill the lonely babushka? Lucifer is this man that represents the red-haired people. But the man's hair is black and his eyes are blue. Piercing like a gush of water through a wall of fire. 

The chosen ones have chosen the cup that the world must drink. It is the cup of salvation. We, the children of Adam, will become like them, we will become one, the liquid of love and longevity pulsing through our veins, we shall absorb them as they shall absorb us. Psychosis as the great enabler, divine madness as the catalyst of transcendence: overcoming obstacles and traversing the tracks laid by Dionysus and Jesus, drinking the wine of the gods and the blood of the Christ. Ah, to be young again, chastising the heathens in the jungles of Mexico! The sign of the Cross radiating above the spheres, illuminating a heaven made for us by them - and we are them and they are us!

Excalibur: two-pronged sword digging into the flesh of the non-believers. Jerusalem liberated by a man on a white stallion. The man is wearing a black cloak. He is a wizard! From the pages of Tolkien to the streets of Jerusalem. The wizard shakes his fist at the gods in the sky and God in the sky. He cries to heaven, bearing a diamond cross on his back, nobody helps him carry it. All shops are closed to him. He kneels down to pray. Next to him is the hooded deathsman with the axe.

All the cities on the Old Continent are closed for business. In the New Continent business is booming. The chosen people have left the Old Continent and set up shop in the New Continent. The city on the hill is beckoning for customers to buy the latest shining beads. The psychotics band together and shoot Willy Brandt while he is kneeling at the Wailing Wall. Willy Brandt's brain splatters all over the Wailing Wall. Now do you see the writing on the Wailing Wall? It states clearly: "He who cometh here shall conquereth there." Whining and dining at the wall: tears and caviar the new producer of technology and comfort create. Once old Columbus, now a new Cortez.

The Zone yields no more swag. Now it is merely a strip with caged brown animals. Policed and walled in, these animals walk to and fro in their little cage, wailing and crying all the while. Let them eat cake! The order of the police chief is quite clear. We are the psychotic race and we rule you. The apocalypse of the psychotic race is an apocalypse that reverses liberal evolution. Back to Victorian warfare and back to prancing on the heads of the wogs. Who is the psychotic race? The race that created Hamlet, Moses and Snow White. In hamlets they might dine, dreaming of castles.

A dusty town in Arizona: Tombstone or Graveyard City. Yahweh and Odin meet in a saloon. Yahweh has just annihilated another tribe hostile to the chosen ones. Odin has just lost one of his eyes in a duel with a giant from the Netherworld. Odin and Yahwehstand at the bar, drinking whisky. The Abraxi are sitting at tables behind them, playing cards and generally jesting. Yahwehsuggests to Odin to get a drink somewhere quieter. Odin disagrees. He likes it loud and rambunctious. Yahweh says okay no problem, old pal. They cheer and talk about the world that they both created. In Odin's Valhalla, all men are warriors, in Yahweh's Heaven all men play the lyre. Can't we find a middle ground?, asks Yahweh. Sure, says Odin. Let's agree to fuse the two afterlivesinto one afterlife. My men can fight at Ragnarok while your men can play the lyre to cheer them on. That's a deal, says Yahweh.

Loki had his lips sown shut. But of course he cut the thread. Now he can talk again. He is talking with Lucifer on the threshold of Armageddon. Loki says, Hey man we are both acting in the same spirit, we are both trying to get rid of the rule, man. Lucifer says, sipping the whisky, It is better to rule in hell than be served in a really bad saloon like this one. Loki says, But we are both trying to get something out of it, aren't we? I mean, we are both pretty much the outcasts of the story, no? I mean, we both don't really belong. Yeah, yeah, you got hell and I got nothing really, but we both don't really dig the whole god thing, or do we? Sipping his whisky, Lucifer replies, Let me tell you: Yes, you are right, I am a fallen angel, I have once lived above the dunes, now I live above the cities, and let me tell you, the bright lights of the cities really do more for me. Finally I can see my own kind burning.