2018 Barrel Straight…

Let’s not beat around the bush readers; I almost lost my faith in 2017. Somewhere at the start of it, I came to the conclusion that God was a modernist author instead of a writer of fairy tales. By that, I mean, He creates characters then lets them run roughshod throughout the world, without rhyme, reason, or a controlling narrative. There is an infinite number of character perspectives. Whatever they do, they do. If they do evil, that’s on them. They’ll be judged for it in the distant, irrelevant future. I was absolutely furious at Him for this.

“Oh! Our Calvinist has finally seen the light of free will!”

Not so fast. The cynical “God as modernist author” bit works on multiple theological platforms. In fact, if you question a Calvinist in a round-about way, he’ll offer you something like I’ve described above. Oh, no Calvinist is intellectually honest enough to admit it directly, but try complaining about the way your life has turned out. You’ll be told, quickly, that it’s all your fault for not making the savvy choices. From the pulpit, however, we’re lead to believe God has the whole world in His hand, and our choices, even the tragic ones, are all planned. We have a wonderful destiny and God is “growing” us towards some beautiful future ideal. Well, dammit, which one is it? You can’t have it both ways.

And to the free-willers…don’t be so quick to revel in this libertarian, non-ordained, chaotic “freedom”. It’s tragic, if you think about it. If God really is the sort of modernist author I’ve described then your life has no purpose. There is literally no reason for you, individually, to exist. You just popped onto the scene as a result of the chaotic mish-mash of psychological and social patterns that brought your parents together. Maybe God knit a chromosome here, or plucked a gene there, but He didn’t create you with any destiny or purpose. That, you have to find on your own; and creating arbitrary meaning is a suicidal game.


Throughout this struggle, I realized that no matter how angry I became, no matter how cynical towards providence, I simply could not shake this deep down, naive, trust that Christ would not abandon me. I’d become furious at myself for this deep inability to follow the fury of reason. By all rational sense, God had abandoned me. Theologically, philosophically, empirically…He’d checked out. But I couldn’t stop trusting that this was all some test-period, or a “season”. Lewis and MacDonald both talk about such a season. In “Screwtape Letters” for example, Lewis has Screwtape’s uncle lecture him about the danger of this season. If a Christian carries on, doing what God commands, even when he has no rational reason for doing so, demons had better watch out.

So this leads me to the great decision I’ve made for 2018.

I’ve decided that, no matter what it looks like at the moment, I simply cannot believe God is a modernist author. I have a pathological inability to stop believing in fairy tales. I’ve tried. I’ve become very angry at myself for not being able to stop believing.

I don’t know how, readers, but in 2018, I will figure out a way forward. I will figure out a way to reconcile God’s apparent lack-of-concern and His inaction, with the idea that He is still with us, and that He did create us for a purpose.

Life, without fairy tales, is not worth living.

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New Immigration Paradigm

In a recent video, Richard Spencer outlines potential outcomes of the Trump administration’s push for immigration reform. Will Trump give up and sell out white America? Will he reach some less-than-desirable compromise? That last, according to Spencer, is most likely. He notes that if the worst happens and no agreement is reached, the possibility for politically-respectable reform in America is doomed. In that case, he says, the Alt. Right will have to lead the way in figuring out some “new immigration paradigm”. He gives no hint of what that would look like. Given the Alt. Right’s eclecticism and inability to form a consensus about strategy, I’m not holding my breath for their miracle cure.

I have my own suggestion; and, before anyone stops reading, thinking I’m a self-important prig who wants to implement a maverick plan, know that what I’m about to suggest is, in my opinion, a Christian approach, based on previously conceived economic and political models. My contribution here, if I’m contributing anything at all, is in seeing how these seemingly-unrelated modes of thought, are applicable to the current “immigration” crisis. I read wide and deep and believe there are materials available not commonly understood or known about in the Alt. Right milieu. Those who know me or follow my Facebook rants wont be surprised to hear me, once again, harping on the old “counter-economics” and “grey market” approach. I’ve begun referring to a Christian amalgamation of these ideas as: “microseccesion”

The first thing to understand about a Christian approach to political theory, including economics and practical strategy, is that, as integral Christians, we’re most concerned with persons. This attitude opposes the attitude of modernists who are most concerned with abstract, impersonal, political machines and vehicles (like states). Man’s mind is *not* the measure of all things. When the modernists – even those in the Alt. Right – approach the world in that way, they run rough-shod over individual human dignity, oftentimes, using rhetoric claiming to champion that very dignity. But man is not meant to be a cog in some rationalist machine. Rather, we’re meant to exist in communion with the living God, whom we know through the human connections we have with our family, community, and race.

There’s a workable, cheap, and “do-able” way to apply this to the immigration crisis. And Spencer’s right – implementing it will require a huge paradigm shift. Namely: we must give up the modernist notion of a “state” – that is: give up the notion of an impersonal, bureaucratic, machine which ostensibly obeys its constitutional “programming” (programmed by the oh-so-wise socialists and political theoreticians). We simply do not have the logistical ability to topple the current state machine nor could we re-institute one of our own even if we had the chance. To do so would require major military action, billions of dollars, support from hundreds of thousands of dedicated people, and who knows what all else. And yet, time and again, Alt. Righters beat their fists bloody against the impenetrable wall of statism.

But imagine, for a minute, what would happen if we gave up trying to build a new nation-state machine. Imagine if we shifted from being political nationalists to being romantic nationalists. Imagine if we begin thinking of ourselves as “aliens in this world” and considered our relationship to family and extended tribe and race, as more important that military control of a geographic area. If we made this mental shift, we could, overnight, begin associating with each other in ways that are, at present, still legal, but would help build group cohesion.

See, there are two main problems with “immigration”. The first is the problem of geographical proximity. Who really wants to live near a bunch of savages who have rapine and pillage on their minds? Crime rates soar and believe me (speaking as someone who had to suffer through government education), when a man is terrified on a daily basis, he cannot achieve his full potential, be it physical, spiritual, or what have you. Being geographically close to these pillage-minded peoples, leads to a dramatic decrease in the quality of life and value of white cultural expression.

The second problem is state-ordained economic pillage. When we invest in the US dollar (that is: when the majority of our wealth is in some form of the dollar-denomination), the government takes that, whether directly through taxation, or indirectly through inflationary spending, and gives it to the immigrants (and other hostile, pillage-minded minorities). They’re weakening whites while strengthening the invaders.

Instead of trying to topple the state and re-institute our own “ethno-state” in order to combat these two problems, we ought to simply practice a series of grey-market, counter-economic, “microsecessions”. The majority of these microsecessions are, for the time-being, completely legal. While some are costly, others aren’t, but all require dedication and a willingness to live a disciplined life. For example, we need to “secede” from the banking industry by finding alternative vehicles for our wealth that cannot be easily “redistributed” to the pillagers. We could become experts in the tax laws; common loop-holes should be known and talked about in every Alt. Right forum. Further, we secede from government schooling, homeschooling our children. We secede from the degenerate culture by leaving the church and turning off the television.

If we do this while simultaneously building up our own cultural awareness, we could go a long way towards salvaging our wealth from the pillagers while re-circulating it among our own people. And it will all (or, at least, mostly all) be done legally and peacefully, without the need for billions of dollars and hundreds of thousands of lives.

The “geographic proximity” problem is a little more difficult to deal with, although, should this micro-seccession idea take hold, people will naturally begin migrating to white enclaves. Nevertheless, moving one’s entire family to a new area is difficult and time-consuming. Also, given current immigration insanity, this will only be a temporary, “rear-guard” solution.

Ok, maybe – but consider that the geographic proximity problem is *never* going to go away unless we slaughter all non-whites and have the Earth to ourselves. There will always be non-whites, lustfully eye-balling our property and our women. So really, how far away must they be in order to say we’ve “successfully fixed the geographic proximity problem”? Some Alt. Righters might answer this differently, but whatever distance is suggested will simply be arbitrary.

No, in the final analysis, the “geographic proximity” problem can only ever be solved by protective violence. And again, we can do this through decentralized microseccessions, forming our own protective class and defense structures.

Ideally, this would allow us to not only survive, but grow and perhaps even flourish, even while living among the Satanists. And the more we flourish, the more likely it will be, in the future, to find and and establish a safe-haven (or even, re-take Europe).

It all hinges on re-igniting a love for the God who created Europe to begin with and a willingness to do away with the idea that political magic machines and activist alchemy will save us.

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Spencer vs. Sargon Debate…

I slogged through the four-and-a-half-hour cringe fest that was the Spencer / Sargon “debate”. Yelling, profanity, talking-over each other, arbitrary assertions left and right, was it really worth my time? Marginally so, maybe.

Popular youtube commentator Sargon of Akkad championed an ill-defined notion of British liberalism over and against Richard Spencer’s ethno-state talking-points. Other (relatively unknown) commentators struggled to get a word in. The youtube giant Stefan Molyneux jumped in about half way through, plying his paleo-libertarianism on Spencer’s behalf. The hodgepodge that emerged was a slightly interesting examination of how work-a-day Alt. Right talking-points hold up under scrutiny from right-leaning liberals. An attack on statist pagans from the neighborhood of liberal pagans, as it were. None of the parties were professing Christians (even if they’d claim to be in private). All were either government-schooled materialists, or seeped in the worldview of government-schooled materialism.

Marginally helpful, though, says I…

The main area of contention was Sargon’s argument that “white” is an unintelligible category – or, as he later clarified, it may be a common enough category, but for an ethno-state to maintain its boundaries, it would have to enforce a more rigorous standard than is popularly understood by the man-on-the-street when it comes to racial identification. Hypothetically, the ethno-state would have to violate typically-liberal rights of individuals in order to impose an iron-fisted cultural hegemony.

Spencer responded with lots of hand-waiving and flagrant shows of audacity. When he did respond, it was with something like a tu quoque rejoinder, noting that liberal societies also enforce some sort of cultural hegemony through force.

From a Christian perspective, this entire debate highlights the weakness of government-schooled racialism. On a materialist perspective, race is simply a matter of genetics (never mind the savage counter-examples). So both Spencer and the wider Alt. Right, have a serious problem when it comes to “whiteness”…white identity is inherently unintelligible to them, in the same way love, virtue, or beauty will be unintelligible until they formally recognize the personal, spiritual, source of it all.

Spencer wants to re-build Christendom – that is: have some sort of contractual confederacy of all the “white” ethnic groups (be that an iron-fisted compulsory empire, a federal system akin to the E.U., or some other type of unifying political impetus) – without Christ.

I don’t want to keep harping on this, but it goes back to the disagreement I had with Spencer months ago when we were both guests on the “Rebel Yell” podcast. Spencer wants an “empire of Iron” – something that will forge all the white identity groups together – where as, I’d like a return to Christendom, an “empire of the heart”, as it were. After all, without allusion to Christendom, with its shared sense of aesthetics, shared allegiance to Christ, shared morals, and shared sense of history (we are the sons of Japeth!), you don’t have “whiteness”.

Belloc was wrong about a lot of things, but his pithy saying: The Faith is Europe and Europe is the Faith…must be ever present in our minds when we think of ourselves as “white”.

I’m a white man because I’m a part of the standard-bearing people, and we’re tripping, struggling, and crawling our way to Zion.

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Where are the Women of Faith?!


In Owen Wister’s humorous novel “Dragon of Wantley”, a medieval village is cursed by a pillaging ingrate because of the perceived impropriety of one of the Baron’s ancestors (God curses the wicked, you know). Legend says the beast will only relent if the Baron’s young daughter rides out to meet it in single combat on Christmas Eve.

While the Baron isn’t the most pious of men, he has enough of the Christian in him to prefer the dragon’s wrath to sending his daughter as a sacrifice. He forbids anyone to tell her of the legend. Unfortunately, through domestic intrigue, she finds out and, because she’s pure of heart and loves her people, decides to fulfill her task and rid them of the curse. She puts her hope in God and the power of Christmas Eve, hoping the season will make the dragon docile and willing to be reasoned with.

However accurate her hopes, we have to admit to her bravery. It’s the sort of bravery admirable in knight or lady and, in either case, grows out of an intense, “bred-in-the-bone” faith. And Wister’s heroine is only one of many such females described by the poetic chroniclers of old Europe. While she may be fiction, she’s based on the collective spirit of the women of Christendom.

Are there any such left in the world?

I only ask because it seems that if we have a chance of seeing one, she’ll be in the growing ranks of the so-called Alternative Right (or one of its orbiting sub-cultures). The problem with the majority of the women vocally associated therein, however, is that, unlike the baron’s daughter in Wister’s novel, they are, to a gal, convinced of the virility, invulnerability, and omnipotence of our enemy. Can that sort ever respect a man who sets himself against the prince of the air?

Oh, they can sympathize with their male allies. They can pity them. They can agree with them on this or that point of political philosophy – but can they ever respect them? I don’t think it’s possible. With their every bit of commentary they suggest, implicitly, between the lines (as it were), that the dragon is too powerful for anyone to face, “…let alone *you*, you silly boy.” The best we can do is shore up our castle for the time being and hope the thing dies from natural causes.

If they had real faith they would know that He who is with us is greater than he who is with the world. Not only would they believe in the power of their male allies to tackle the beast – they’d venture the task themselves should they be called to try. “Game for a fight” we call it. While that tenacity is a knightly virtue, it’s not solely the property of knights. In fact, it’s very attractive in women. But all we get from the Alt. Right gals is more implicit assertions that our enemy is too powerful for puny Christian men.

The average woman isn’t given to combat or the butting of heads with the enemy. All she knows is the pre-fight buzz around this or that opponent. She takes that for gospel. She’s not aware of that sudden flicker of insecurity, or the last-minute lack of confidence in the eyes of the bully when he inevitably has to physically support his boasting. They don’t know the fear elite “culture makers” have of white boys in the hinterlands.

Because she lacks faith in Christ, she lacks faith in her men, and inadvertently ends up praising (indirectly) the power and martial virtue of the devil.

Where are the women who will ride out and meet the dragon (if they’re called on to do so)? Where are the ones who believe that He who is with us is greater than he who is with the world?

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Back of the North Wind


My faith is almost gone, to be honest. Not my belief that God exists – everyone believes that, even the demons. It’s easy to believe God exists, the more so for anyone who’s studied philosophy. We splice and dice propositions with ever increasing analytic precision until we realize there are none whatsoever that are immune from splicing. There is nothing true that can’t be analyzed and dissected into irrelevancy. In such a world, any and all propositions can be accepted or rejected at a whim; the more grandiose, the better. So we’re left with a primal urge to see a person in back of it all.

No, it’s not belief He exists that I’m lacking. It’s belief that He cares. I’ve had too many unanswered prayers – too many mountains that have remained unmoved – for me to give any credence to what Christ says in Scripture. The best His apologists can say is that the plain reading is incorrect and that, despite appearances, God really didn’t mean to suggest He would be with us day in and day out. He didn’t mean that He would answer our prayers or that He would supply us our basic needs. Nor even that He is some sort of master potter (or a shepherd), molding or guiding us along a specially-created path of destiny. No, really we’re all on our own; whatever happens, happens, and God is the God of the dead. We’ll see Him when it’s all over but until then, He’s irrelevant. (The majority of Christians believe this – look at their actions, not their words; you’ll see I’m right).

Other “experts” aren’t as honest. They try to claim God is constantly answering our prayers; they do this by trying to twist any occurrence whatsoever as, somehow, the answer to a prayer. They do this to save their cult more so than out of loyalty to God. If they were loyal to God, they’d freely admit that, despite all of Christ’s grand promises in Scripture about knocking and having the door opened, or seeking and finding, etc., He doesn’t do any of that. Give me an honest Christian who admits that Christ doesn’t open doors, no matter how often you knock – and I’ll show you someone who’s really loyal to God.

Better to say: no, despite what Christ said, He doesn’t seem to answer prayers today. I don’t know why, but He’s God and He can do what He wants. I follow Him even though He’s not doing what He said He would. I put all my trust in Him, even though it seems foolish to do so. Better that guy than an army of dishonest apologists.

No, it’s not belief in God I have a problem with. It’s an outright fury that He doesn’t do what He says He’ll do: answer our prayers, be a part of our lives, bring vengeance on our enemies, etc. etc. You start wondering if Jesus is wrong about God answering our prayers, if He’s wrong about God taking care of our basic needs and so on, what else might He be wrong about?

The author George MacDonald was a man really loyal to God.

If there’s any chance of saving my faith, it’ll lie in his writings. In his novels, characters are taught to trust that God is good, even when God blatantly seems to do bad. And while MacDonald strikes me as a little naive about the coming spiritual destruction of Europe (a fault he shares with Lewis, Chesterton, Tolkien, etc. etc. – that is to say: he wrote during a time when he had the luxury of being an optimist), his works resonate in me as expressions of the true faith.

They cause me great joy mixed with great bouts of anger and cynicism…the demons never leave quietly.

Happy birthday to a man who’s few lines of poetry are the last holding me to Christendom.

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Strange Senses

“You need not mind, my girl,” he went on, to Mary.  “Everybody knows I am ill ­very ill.  Sit down there, on the foot of the bed, only take care you don’t shake it, and let me talk to you.  People, you know, say nowadays there ain’t any hell ­or perhaps none to speak of?”

“I should think the former more likely than the latter,” said Mary.

“You don’t believe there is any?  I am glad of that! for you are a good girl, and ought to know.”

“You mistake me, sir.  How can I imagine there is no hell, when he said there was?”

“Who’s he?”

“The man who knows all about it, and means to put a stop to it some day.”

“Oh, yes; I see!  Hm! ­But I don’t for the life of me see what a fellow is to make of it all ­don’t you know?  Those parsons!  They will have it there’s no way out of it but theirs, and I never could see a handle anywhere to that door!”

I don’t see what the parsons have got to do with it, or, at least, what you have got to do with the parsons.  If a thing is true, you have as much to do with it as any parson in England; if it is not true, neither you nor they have anything to do with it.”

“But, I tell you, if it be all as true as ­as ­that we are all sinners, I don’t know what to do with it!”

“It seems to me a simple thing. That man as much as said he knew all about it, and came to find men that were lost, and take them home.”

“He can’t well find one more lost than I am!  But how am I to believe it?  How can it be true?  It’s ages since he was here, if ever he was at all, and there hasn’t been a sign of him ever since, all the time!”

“There you may be quite wrong.  I think I could find you some who believe him just as near them now as ever he was to his own brothers ­believe that he hears them when they speak to him, and heeds what they say.”

“That’s bosh.  You would have me believe against the evidence of my senses!”

“You must have strange senses, Mr. Redmain, that give you evidence where they can’t possibly know anything!  If that man spoke the truth when he was in the world, he is near us now; if he is not near us, there is an end of it all.”

“The nearer he is, the worse for me!” sighed Mr. Redmain.

“The nearer he is, the better for the worst man that ever breathed.”

(From George MacDonald’s “Mary Marston”)

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Thrice the Rooster…


Had a long hard day, lads. Chainsaws, axes, and maws. We loaded the wood, drove it across town, and dumped it.

When all was over, I lit up a cigar and plopped down on an old truck bed. As I was resting, a rooster came strutting up.

He’d come to me, pause, then come a few steps closer. On and on until he was at my feet, twisting his head to study me.

I looked at him, he looked at me. We appraised each other for close to 15 minutes. The thing was interested in me. We had a connection. He was judging me with his eyes.

“Did you betray Christ, too, you piece of crap?”

“No sir. I stood my ground.”

“Well…now you’re just being cocky…”

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A’Fast, ye Food Lovers…

He’s alive! The Young Drummer is alive! After many years he’s emerged to give a new interview. I thought, maybe, owing to how bad things have gotten, he’d given up and hunkered down in the world of fairy tales; left us to our own devices. I should have known better. Thanks to everyone who participated in the search.

And things are bad. I’ve had to stop reading Drudge. It’s too awful. I can’t stand my Facebook wall either. Too many people wrap themselves in the signs, symbols, and sayings of old Europe, without knowing anything at all about the spirit that animated the creation of those signs, symbols, and sayings. I compare it to my old notion of collecting baseball cards:

I loved collecting baseball cards. I knew all the different companies (from Flir, to Upper Deck, to Topps), and carefully separated out all my rookie cards. If the guy turned out to be good, his rookie card would be valuable. I even sorted them by team. The one thing I didn’t care about at all was baseball, itself. Sure, me and the other neighborhood boys, were ushered off to little league a few times a week (during the season). I played “catch” with my dad. But it was all empty. All rote. We did it because it’s what everyone was doing. There was no deep love of the game. I just loved the flashy cards and collecting them.

I loved the *idea* of baseball, but didn’t care a lick for the game.

The majority of people in the Alternative Right milieu love the idea of old Europe, but they don’t care a lick for the people or God who created it. It’s hard for me to see someone like that post a quote from Robert E. Lee or cite a pithy something from Fitzhugh. What do they really know about Lee or Fitzhugh?!

On a lighter note:

I’m prepping for another water fast! I’ll document it here, day by day, as usual.

Looks like I’ll have to work through it; I can’t afford to take the time off. That’s not ideal, I know. Could even be potentially dangerous; you got me. You know what’s more dangerous? Letting my spiritual life plod away into nothingness.

Additionally, if anyone is looking for Big Dan and curious about the rest of his adventure, I’m moving his story to my fiction site, to be slowly worked on and improved. The character Big Dan is based on a real life individual I met and his story about seeing angels in a corn field was told to me, by the man himself, as if it were completely true. Of course, he was an overzealous Pentecostal, so…take that for what it’s worth.

Still…God does seem to do big things for children and the childlike…

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Missing Person!


“Drummer, Drummer! I pray thee, hear! Hast thou forgotten thou heldest me dear?”

We live in an unprecedented age of spiritual poverty and bondage. The Devil has been set loose among the flock and Europeans – once the standard bearers of Christ – have let go His hand, and, like Peter, dropped into the black depths of modernity; prey for the wolves.

There was one from the Black Forest though, who used to speak on behalf of the poetic spirit of Christendom. The Young Drummer, who believed in miracles and the power of a fairy tale vision.

It is with a heavy heart I bring to the attention of my readers, that, owing to his prolonged absence, my friends and I have begun to suspect the Young Drummer is not only missing, but may be in serious danger.

It’s been so long since we’ve last heard an interview from him – he used to speak regularly to the author of CWNY – that we’ve decided to form a Missing Persons campaign on his behalf. We’ll marshal the resources of the internet to bring him out of hiding and rescue him (if we’re able) from whatever danger has kept him from us.

If you, or anyone you know, has any information on the whereabouts of the Young Drummer, please contact your local search-party leader. Additionally, please take the above picture – which is the most recent image of him available – and broadcast it far and wide.

We last few with beating hearts need his drums now, more than ever.

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Shotgun vs. the Liquid Jew


I was told that if you’re sensitive to caffeine, stop using it for awhile, then take a high dose, it’s liable to give you a panic attack later in the evening. I didn’t believe it as I chugged one of the many brands of liquid jew on the market, but here it is, almost five in the morning and, I believe!

I was sitting on the back porch surfing my daily reading when, out of the corner of my eye I caught a slight movement that looked every bit like a seven-foot-tall “grey” alien, ambling menacingly outside my field of vision.

Whatever it was scared the (redacted) out of me.

The fear gave way to anger. No demon from Hell was going to treat *me* that way. I’m a son of Adam and holder of the sacred fire of the Occident! He shall not pass!!!

I burst out of the screened area onto the deck, shining my flashlight in all directions. A Netflix documentary popped into my mind. It was about this man who was “haunted” by aliens and saw them frequently, as well as mysterious little girls who’d peer at him from between his porch railings. I shined my light to the railings, expecting to see a little white girl with bulging, alien eyes.

“You are *NOT* welcome in my yard, you little minx!”

I didn’t see anything (lucky for the alien) but the dogs a field over were howling for all they were worth. I gathered my things, came back in, and am writing this post – where, I now realize (upon cooler reflection), this is all probably caused by that damned energy drink.

…the liquid Jew.

Not. Even. Once.

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