~ A Temporary End ~

**Easter Update** 4-21-19



**UPDATE** 4-16-19

It’s been brought to my attention that CWNY is looking for a new venue. I hope that means we’ll hear from him again soon.

As for my own blogging efforts, they were “winding-down” anyway. It was becoming more and more difficult to find anything to say. What do you say when you look at a burning hellscape? I humbly thank all my readers and may return, in time, but for now I’m going to take a break.


Dear Antique Europeans…

The day the author of Cambria Will Not Yield linked to my blog was, in my humble opinion, the greatest day of my blogging career. I’ve been a faithful reader of CWNY for over a decade now – the changes it has caused in my life are beyond calculation. And I’m not being hyperbolic when I say so. I eagerly awaited every new post. His was the last voice of the European poets, and now, that voice has been silenced.

…this week, the WordPress blogging platform has removed CWNY from publication. While the Satanic inquisitors never require excuses, they sometimes rely on the thinnest of justifications for their religious purges – here, presumably, they decided to purge CWNY for his take on the recent mass-shooting.

This cannot be allowed to stand, and yet, we find ourselves relatively powerless to do anything about it. Nevertheless, it is in my power to protest the act by, immediately, removing all my blogging activities from the WordPress platform.

I urge everyone out there, with still-beating-hearts, to do likewise.

I’m looking for a new blog-platform that, at least ostensibly, supports free speech; barring that luxury, I hope to find a venue hosted by a foreign country (like say, Russia, China, or Iceland) that either doesn’t censor pro-white speech or may be willing to overlook it given their national sentiments. Any suggestions on that note, from my readers, would be much appreciated.

I will keep this blog up for the time-being until I’ve completed the transition, and will update this post with the link to the new site when I’ve acquired it.

We all eagerly anticipate the return of Cambria Will Not Yield, in whatever form it takes. I don’t know the author personally although, after a decade of reading him, I feel like I do. And based on that knowledge, I would be very surprised if we don’t hear from him very soon.

In the meantime, here is the link to the old Cambria Will Not Yield blog which is still up on the old “Blogger” platform.

Additionally, that stalwart Aristocrat-of-the-Soul, Faust, a long time blogger and friend, has acquired the last Cambria Will Not Yield blog post (from March 23) and turned it into a pdf file. If you missed that post, or would like a copy, email me at shotgun_smith@hotmail.com.

This is a sad affair and I’m convinced God Almighty will not let this sort of thing continue happening to His people without intervening on our behalf.

Until then…and so long as the blood endures…

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~ A Cosmic Agrarian Against the Dauntless Wings ~


I’d like to open with a poem by Robert Frost, in celebration both of his birthday and his agrarian legacy against unfettered mind:

Love has earth to which she clings
With hills and circling arms about—
Wall within wall to shut fear out.
But Thought has need of no such things,
For Thought has a pair of dauntless wings.

On snow and sand and turf, I see
Where Love has left a printed trace
With straining in the world’s embrace.
And such is Love and glad to be.
But Thought has shaken his ankles free.

Thought cleaves the interstellar gloom
And sits in Sirius’ disc all night,
Till day makes him retrace his flight,
With smell of burning on every plume,
Back past the sun to an earthly room.

His gains in heaven are what they are.
Yet some say Love by being thrall
And simply staying possesses all
In several beauty that Thought fares far
To find fused in another star.

~ Robert Frost ~

Of late, “agrarianism” has been accused of being a dead “ism”. Outdated. Behind-the-times. I’m thinking of Hunter Wallace here, as, amid the flurry of articles at Occidental Dissent outlining his “paradigm-altering” change of mind, he let slip that robots (a stand-in for technology more broadly) have made the agrarian life obsolete.

“Agrarianism is never coming back because technological progress has eliminated the need for such a large human labor force.” ~ OD

He’s not alone. I once argued for a number of days with a gent associated with the League of the South(!), who claimed the modern world, with all its savvy political machines, has rendered agrarian societies quaint, nostalgic, and utterly worthless. The other large states would gang up on an agrarian society and destroy it. We must have machines, and we must have centralized power! Or else!

This echos De Tocqueville’s observations about old Dixie in his infamous travelogue where, having crossed the state line from Ohio into Kentucky, he noticed an immediate change in culture prompting him to opine on the smiling hardiness of northern workers as opposed to the moping hardships of Southerners…the latter of whom were sure to be destroyed by the former. That his prediction came true seems to vindicate the cynicism of my friend in the League and lend weight to Wallaces’ off-hand dismissals.

“Agrarianism”, moreover, is in more trouble, since its ablest living defenders – the Abbeville Institute fellows – have tagged “ism” to the end of the word, and fashioned the whole thing into some sort of Jeffersonian political theory. I’m sure if I had to choose errors, I’d prefer Wallace’s error – his conceiving of “agrarianism” in a simplistic Wikipedia-type way, as mere farming or working of the land – rather than deal with attempts to abstract a turn-of-thought that is opposed to being abstracted to begin with! Recall Gildersleeve on this point:

“There is such a thing as fighting for a principle, an idea; but principle and idea must be incarnate…” ~ Creed of the Old South

It’s ironic that Wallace continually posts a meme, intending it to represent himself: a helium-filled brain, soaring over the despairing masses – ironic because when I saw it, it made me think of Frost’s poem. Frost contrasts love and love of place with unfettered mind, soaring above all restraint on “dauntless wings”. But I’ve always had a more cosmic view of “agrarianism” – down in the mud with the hogs and other small-brained ingrates. It’s a view captured well by Frost’s poem and if properly understood, doesn’t just restore to us some quaint way of life, but is the very soul of our people and even of our sacred Faith…

Christ, after all, was incarnate, and its through this mysterious hypostatic union we, in the end, can be said to know anything at all about the world. The mixing of eternity with time – of spirit with the blood. All the paradoxes of life encountered by unfettered reason, all the barriers logicians and philosophers cannot pass – the endless confusion of how a timeless, infinite, God could, nevertheless, create time and manifest Himself within it…all solved in the incarnate person of Christ! He is the living archetype for our agrarian thesis – and like Him, as well as like the humble okra in our back gardens (which strives to imitate Him) …agrarians will rise, yes and continue to rise again from the ashes of fallen, degenerate, unfettered, machine societies.

Ours is not a position of mind, soaring over the realities of place and the restraining, fences of life. Ours is love; a wall within loving wall, to keep out fear…and this will never be obsolete or quaint. It ought never be passively waived off in favor of spittle-flinging zealotry over some political notion or other.

We are timeless beings, temporarily bound in time: living antiques…the agrarian, far from being a mere guy who works in fields, intuitively grasps this sense of eternity. He intuitively grasps the mystery of both God and nature, and knows we’ll never capture either with the intellect – no matter how big-brained or highly-educated by some government university. It’s this that’s the core of agrarianism (if such a thing can be captured as an “ism”). It’s this mode of life – this “worldview” – which composed the mind of Christendom and found a unique expression of it in Old Dixie. It’s this that must be preserved at all cost.

It’s love…and it’s alive…

~ Our little systems have their day;
They have their day and cease to be:
They are but broken lights of thee,
And thou, O Lord, art more than they. ~ Tennyson

Posted in Defending Dixie | Tagged , , | 8 Comments

Shotgun vs. the Yang Gang…


“Are you a capitalist or a socialist?” 

I’m often asked this. It’s not a fair question and the truth is, I don’t know nor do I really care. I don’t know because I’m convinced that the majority of such words (especially ones that end in “ism”) are utterly meaningless. They have little intellectual import and serve only to stoke the emotions of whomever hears them, in either a passionate fervor for or against.

So while I’m not an outright “capitalist”, I do find myself having many disagreements with those in the Alt. Right who are passionate “socialists”. They’re so passionate, in fact, they’re actually advocating for “universal basic income”, hopping on the bandwagon of the radical socialist democrat presidential candidate Andrew Yang. These misguided Alt. Right lads are, perhaps rightly so, burnt out on Trump and all his false promises, so they see a guiding light in Yang who may have more of a chance to usher in the socialist state they desire.

But despite how many of these Alt. Right guys claim to be “former libertarians” or former “free market conservatives”, they seem to accept these socialist ideas at face-value…as if they’ve either forgotten all the free-market criticisms of such positions, or, more likely, as if they never understood them to begin with. Government-school kids, after all, run after trends and aesthetics rather than any legitimate policy convictions.

The level of double-think is amazing. Richard Spencer, for instance, can proclaim, in the same podcast, that the more of a product is supplied, the less demand there will be for it, while, a few minutes later, seriously advocate for universal basic income. One-thousand dollars a month for all? Even the most average Rush-Limbaugh-listening conservative knows this will dramatically reduce the spending power of money while, on the “back-end” as it were, remove more income from tax-paying workers, robbing us of our ability to spend and invest according to our perceived interests.

“Well, I would have hired an extra worker and/or given my existing employees a raise, but now that extra cash is being taken by the state to fund the universal basic income and my workers will have to make due without a pay-raise, despite the rising cost of living.” 

It’s absurd! What socialists always want on the front end, they end up destroying on the back end. And the average socialist is, usually, (and I’m speaking anecdotally) some sort of ivory-tower, or at least, arm-chair, intellectual with very little knowledge of how to manage his own money, let alone that of all his neighbors.

Another similarity these Alt. Right kids share with Yang is their unfettered faith in the demigods “science” and “progress.” On this view, we’re just a few decades away from Kurzweil’s transhumanist “singularity” where artificial intelligence and machines will either take over life as we know it, or merge with humanity to create a new evolutionary species – onwards and upwards we’ll go into the universe, unharried by death, decay, or…common-sense.

On this view, “machines” will replace labor, and, as socialists are always ostensibly the friends of “labor”, wish to institute economic or social reforms to avoid the poor worker having to lose his job to a machine. Self-driving big-rigs are alluded to as the case-in-point here – a technology that will inevitably put thousands of dejected truckers out of work. But, as usual, their proposed resolutions will, inevitably, cause more heartache and trouble to the truckers than any self-driving big-rig (and, without doxxing myself, I’ll add that this is a subject matter I have some level of professional expertise in). 

Unfortunately, the heartless free-market advocates, genuinely heartless in this instance, reply with the whole “learn to code” meme, implying the age-old capitalist talking-point that whenever a new technology renders some career-field obsolete, those involved in the career, after being fired, will eventually find new employment in the ever-expanding market. In this case: they could “learn to code”. This emphasis on market forces at the very-real expense of workers in a certain industry is a problem with “capitalism” when “capitalism” becomes a philosophy instead of merely a tool for analyzing markets.

Still, what of the socialist conviction that “machines” will destroy countless jobs? It’s completely false. Emphatically false!

Consider the classic essay “I, Pencil” in free-market literature. The essay outlines the massive labor force required to generate one, humble, pencil. The rubber factories for the erasers, the lumber mills for the wood, the graphite production, not to mention all the highways and transportation industries required to facilitate the production. Each of these supporting industries, themselves, require massive infrastructure. Likewise, consider a cotton-picking tractor. Did this replace all the slave labor in the old South? Hardly, when we consider the massive labor market required to maintain the tractor (fossil-fuels, alone, require thousands of man hours to produce).

Machines never *replace* labor, they only ever *reallocate* it.

Still…a Christian government (as opposed to a soulless capitalist market) would have mercy on those being “reallocated”. In fact, the malicious reallocation of labor in today’s markets is a major source of outright attack on white working-class people. It’s bad enough to have to retire early or learn a new trade late in life, but when the new labor created by the new technology is “reallocated” to non-whites or those not even citizens of the nation, it becomes a very real problem indeed.

In fact, this is *the* problem that free-market advocates in pro-white circles need to address in my humble opinion. My solution is radical, but I’ve said it publicly in many venues: we ought to seriously reconsider the merits of a decentralized, privately-owned, slave-labor market. Given technology today, we could even avoid having to live near the slave class – having plantations in South America or Africa, for example.

For anyone recoiling in horror, know that we already have a system like this in place, but the slavery is not formally recognized as such, nor is it presided over by individual, Christian, owners of capital. Far better individual Christian aristocrats, than faceless, international billionaires with no emotional connection to those slaving away on their plantations.

…more on the particulars of this in a future post. Suffice it to say, for now, the naive “Yang Gang” advocates in the Alt. Right would do well to dust off the old free-market literature they claimed to have mastered so long ago, and allow it to restrain their unfettered passion for the building of impersonal, economic, machines.

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It Shall Be Life…

Thus, if there are afflictions, there are also comforts: great consolations, great chastisements. There is a comforter, and there is a chastener. Every man must taste of death: every man must taste of life. It shall not be all bitter nor all sweet for any. It shall be life. The unseen ministers of a stupendous equity have their eyes and their hands about every man’s portion; ‘as it is written, he that had gathered much had nothing over; and he that had gathered little had no lack.’

It is the same earth for all; the same earth for the dead, great and small; dust to dust. The same earth for the living. ‘Thorns, also, and thistles shall it bring forth,’ and God provides the flowers too. ~ Wylder’s Hand – Le Fanu

I woke up at three a.m. today, thinking I heard a noise. I couldn’t say what it was, but I had the strangest feeling. My thoughts were racing like I just had a cup of coffee. Rattling around in the forefront of my mind was a fully-formed suicide note. I couldn’t stop reciting it. For what it’s worth, it was some of my best writing, perfectly worded, succinct, flawless logic…

This is the second time I’ve experienced this phenomenon, and both times, when I think about it later, I cannot recall the specifics. The fever passes with the coming of the day and I only remember generalities. In this morning’s letter, I aired a number of clear grievances towards God, wondering at how small a step it is to go from realizing how little the name of Christ means today in either Heaven or Earth, to questioning how much, indeed, it’ll be worth in the afterlife. Oh the apologists can rationalize away any ill-fated turn of providence, and on their say-so, we’d have to believe both that God never answers prayers and that He is always answering them. They have it so that God is both sovereign and in control of all things, while also being in control of nothing.

Once I woke up and came under the power of a *wholly* different Spirit, I realized this was likely an early-morning demonic attack. But it’s a curious one. The devil has plenty of wily minions walking the Earth – why not have one of them knock me off? Why all the wrankling to have me end it myself? Well…I don’t care one way or the other about why Satanists (or Satan himself) do what they do, and despite the expert rationale of my dream-like demon letter, I think I’ll stay around.

And yet, how much of a Christian can I be if this is one of my problems?

I feel like the villain in a Sharidan Le Fanu novel. He’s so good at describing villainy and I can’t help but see myself in his villains. They have me examining and re-examining my own motivations and causes for action. More often than not, I’m just as selfish, cunning, and wicked as any of them. I can’t help it. I hate myself for it. And while I’d like to say that I sometimes am able to act with a higher purpose and fulfill the dictates of love, I can only do so by admitting that when it happens, it happens accidentally. More often, when I try to do good, it turns out terribly.

Love, however, covers a multitude of sins…God forgive me.

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Dead Man’s Throttle…


~ Here’s to the feet, what have walked the plank,
Yo ho! for the dead man’s throttle!
And here’s to the corpses floatin’ round in the tank, 
And the dead man’s teeth in the bottle! ~ Dr. Syn 

I’ve had a gnawing suspicion about the so-called “Alt. Right”, but lately, my suspicion has grown into a fury of desperation. That may sound melodramatic, and maybe it is, but I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about it. More broadly, I’ve been considering an offhand comment from Richard Spencer in a youtube broadcast a few weeks ago where he says: “Spirit is power.”

He has some disjointed and ostentatious notion of a cultural “mood” in mind here, though, as a Christian, I’m of the opinion this “mood” is composed of very real, living, beings. Powers of the air, as it were – and anyone with eyes and ears ought to understand, it’s a dark and evil spirit. All our problems, be they jews, central banking, feminism, or what have you, arise from this unfettered and unholy “breeze.” I’m afraid the so-called “Alt. Right” is a whirling “eddy” of it.

I’ve taken to calling Alt. Right partisans “materialists” and they all, to a man, deny it. But consider the following analogy, and I ask the reader’s pardon in advance for its morbid trappings. Nevertheless, I think it does well as an insight:

I’d like to ask my readers a question, but to ask it, we must enter the dark world of a gothic “romance”. We take ourselves to a small farm on the outskirts of a lazy, country, town. This farm is presided over by the ideal couple: a brisk young man and his beautiful wife. Which you are in this story doesn’t matter, but place yourself in one or the other of the couple’s work boots. After many peaceful years, one of the couple becomes, unexpectedly, ill, and dies tragically. Unfortunately, the surviving spouse is visited the next night by a dark angel who proclaims that he will bestow on the spouse a gift, whether it’s wanted or not. Namely: he will offer the spouse a choice: either he will bring back the spirit of the fallen partner, to haunt the farm, or he’ll bring back the fallen partner’s body, though who knows with what spirit it will be animated. Your choice, dear readers?

Everyone I’ve asked has chosen to have the spirit. Best, by far, to see your fallen love through the window at night, walking into the barn, or to feel her presence in the kitchen, or the warmth of her lost love around the fireplace on a cold evening. The other option is out of a horror novel – to keep her bound in the basement, in a demonic fervor, though, still present to touch and feel, and perhaps, when the demon’s mood has abated sufficiently, to snuggle with…

The choice ought to be clear, and yet, in practice, almost everyone chooses the reanimated corpse option. Think of it on a grand scale, if you will: they want the physical trappings of old Europe without her loving spirit. In their every commentary, they extol the genetic virtues of white people (especially our women) – or they opine longingly for the “technological” advances of our scientists, the political machines of the past, or the grand architecture. All of these things are the corpse and trappings of a once-great people.

On the other hand, I long for the spirit of old Europe. I’d rather be comforted with ghosts and sad memories of times past, even while surrounded by ruin, than to have a few grand buildings again, though filled with soulless creatures of the demon-wind.

~ I don’t want to gain the whole world, and lose my soul ~ 


What bothers me mightily about this is the Christian response to it. I mean, those men loyal to their race and who still claim loyalty to the man Jesus. Having been spiritually cut off from that world of the past, they are, essentially, floating blindly through the wreckage and, seeing a whirlwind of pagans clamoring for white “civil-rights”, have grabbed desperately to the Alt. Right.

Their meager evangelism or their ill-fated attempts at apologetics, amount to fervent appeals to the good judgement of these government-schooled, neo-darwinian, modernists. They wish to show that our sacred faith is, indeed, compatible with the pagan worldview. “We can be Christian *and* believe in evolution!” they cry. Or “Jesus threw the jews out of the temple!” That last is almost universally repeated by any nominally-Christian Alt. Right talking-head. The response from the neo-pagans is almost as universally ubiquitous: “…but Jesus was a jew! And Christianity is a jewish religion!”

That this is absurd is beside the point. If we seek to have men wrap sacred trappings around the rotting neo-darwinian techno-fable that motivates all Alt. Right commentary, then what are we really achieving? Is the goal to simply get a body in a pew on Sunday morning? Stop this blasphemy!

We’ve seen the Alt. Right “spirit” crumble and absolutely disintegrate under pressure. And now that the pagan flotsam has proven itself unworthy for the raging seas, it’s time we, as Christian leaders (for such any of you are who take the time to read my ramblings), rise up to show the world that we’re still here, and we have life to offer the perishing.

It’s up to we few to rebuild Christendom…so long as the blood endures!

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Ho, Hey…

A few days ago, I was out back, smoking a cigar, with a lot on my mind – contemplating God’s dealings with man and the little ironies of life – when, the irregular barking of a nearby dog, broke my concentration.

…I continued my high and mighty thoughts when, again, the bark disturbed me. “I can’t even pray, God! See you and your haphazard plans!”

I had no choice but to arise from my selfish reverie and attend to the world…

…bark…pause…bark bark…pause…

But then in a delivery of Heavenly humor, I got it! Could this actually be happening?? I jumped up, ran inside, grabbed my guitar and rushed back out. My friend was still performing, and with my help, this:


“So, show me family…” bark, bark…

“Or the blood that I will bleed…” bark, bark…

“I don’t know what I did wrong…” bark…

“I don’t know where I belong…” bark…

“…but I can write a song…” bark, bark…

“I belong with you, you belong with me, in my sweet…heart”…baaark, bark…

We harmonized in time for those few measures before my friend lost the beat, but miracles often don’t last long. Nor do we often look for them in our back yards.

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Tidewater Tranquil


“We felt very glad in our hearts as we walked along the sands side by side.  For my part, I felt so deeply overjoyed, that I was surprised at my own sensations, and fell into a reverie upon the causes of happiness.

I came to the conclusion that a state of profound peace and repose, both in regard to outward objects and within the soul, is the happiest condition in which man can be placed; for, although I had many a time been most joyful and happy when engaged in bustling, energetic, active pursuits or amusements, I never found that such joy or satisfaction was so deep or so pleasant to reflect upon as that which I now experienced.” ~ R. M. Ballantyne “The Coral Island”

This will seem ridiculous to moderns – given their petty anesthetics, administered daily to ward off soul-hauntings – but there is a peace that surpasseth understanding. And it is available to the Christian. It’s difficult to suss out and few even realize the need. We have commercials, entertainment, sugar, and fried foods after all. What more could we want?

I seek it out by the water in my native land. Every inch of the place is filled with beauty and memory of happier times. With the calm water, the warm sunbeams, the faint, lazy, ringing of church-bells…it’s as close to Heaven as we might get on Earth. Better only if surrounded by friends and family on these remarkable occasions.

The Tidewater is my house of worship.

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New from Shotwell Publishing, “A Christian Attempt to Reconcile Satanism With Scripture”, or, the actual title: “Understanding Creation and Evolution” by Howard Ray White.

Infamous Southern spokesman Clyde N. Wilson has this to say in the forward:

“It should be a major concern of every Christian to reconcile his understanding of the Holy Scriptures with the accumulating scientific knowledge of the 21st century. In this small book, Howard White has made the best, most satisfactory treatment of this vital matter that I have ever encountered. . . . The reconciliation of Scripture and evolution presented here is not mere speculation. As the author is well aware, it is of vital relevance to mankind for our understanding of who we are at this very moment in the long history of the human race — creatures of the physical world with immortal souls.”

This is a disappointing take from Dr. Wilson.

I’m not bothered *that* people believe in the asinine techno-fable that fuels modernity…but it bothers me *why* they believe it.

They naively believe “facts” speak for themselves. It doesn’t even take that much reading in philosophy to see how abjectly ridiculous that is. But they prance on through the daisies, believing whatever tripe comes from the sainted mouths of lab-coat-wearing pagans. “Studies say…” and “science says…” after all. We don’t want to be “stupid” or “backwards.”

And the idea that Howard White engages in (one of many) attempts to intertwine this asinine techno-fable with holy-writ is nigh-on blasphemy – and yet too many Christians attempt it to call it so.

Better to say that if a man is truly loyal to our Savior, he’ll stop letting modernity bully his intellect.

Dr. Wilson should know better…

Posted in Defending Dixie | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

Richard Spencer, President?

Richard Spencer at U of Florida

“You, are not allowed in my ethnostate!”

I’ve been a long-time defender of Richard Spencer. Frankly, I’ve never understood the vitriolic criticism of the guy. He’s the obvious choice for defacto “leader” of the Alt. Right, and I’ve been very pleased with his ideological “shifts” over the past year or two.

For example, a few years ago at an AMREN conference, he suggested we needed to present ourselves as “white Gandhi” or white MLKjrs. But in a few 2019 podcasts, he’s suggested, instead, we ought to present ourselves as “badasses”, “edgy”, and tough. He suggests that “nice guys never get the girl” (implying the overall winning strategy of self-conscious bravado). Much better than white Gandhi, at least. It seems his run ins with the “authorities” and their thug-zombie-foot-soldiers, have caused him to give up a pollyanna view of “optics” for a more gritty, realistic tone.

Additionally, he was (virtually) the lone voice advocating for white “supremacy” in a movement full of people crying for some sort of “separate-but-equal” ethnic nationalism. To the contrary, says Spencer, we, as whites, must accept the so-called “white man’s burden” and take our place as leaders of the world. We must, in some sense, dominate. Hear, hear, to that, says I.

My support, of course, is not uncritical. He wants us to “dominate” the world (or, at least, the European world) with some sort of European Union type political machine. An “Empire of Iron” imposed from the top down. Additionally, he is, at best, neutral towards Christianity, and is strongly informed by that degenerate Nietzsche. He sees very little of value in Evangelical Christianity, especially, and openly admits to having little to no sense of connection with white, blue-collar, southerners.

I’ll take ostensible agreement, even if we arrive at our conclusions as a result of very different worldviews and motivations. With that in mind, I plan to support his run for president. That’s right. The rumors are confirmed. Richard Spencer will be teaming up with radio host James Edwards for a presidential run.

Edwards has gotten flak from his, largely, evangelical base. How can he team up with an anti-Christian like Spencer? But I think Edwards is a great choice. He has experience running for political office, after all, and he has the potential to mobilize the blue-collar, Christian, southerners that are, otherwise, put off by Spencer. That seems to be the job of vice presidential picks, anyway.

I support this run for one big reason:

Spencer is right to say that the largest problem the “Alt. Right” faces moving forward, is censorship. Virtually all major websites and Alt. Right venues have been shut down, de-platformed, or had their payment processing ability closed. “We need to carve out a legitimate space for ourselves in the public discourse” says Spencer…and there’s no better (at least, no quicker) way to do so than by a moderately successful third-party political run – at least, that’s the hope.

“Success” of this campaign, at least in my view, is not to be measured by the percentage of votes. Certainly it’s not to be measured by an actual win – something that wont occur unless by divine intervention. The success of the Spencer / Edwards campaign must be measured by how big of a “space” they’re able to “carve out” at the table of political discourse. They need only cause enough media attention and popular fervor so as to make it difficult to justify mass censorship. Silencing a few “racist crazies” after all, is far easier than openly silencing a political party. There may be enough sham-democracy left to make the latter difficult.

I do think Spencer is going into his campaign full of naivete, however. He actually thinks “ideas” matter. He thinks he can win the “Bernie Bro” vote by pushing for universal basic income, and other outright socialist policies. As if these rabid anti-white zombies will give up their worship of dildolech and accept a notorious “racist” candidate, just because they have student loan debt. No. The promise of socialism looms nigh for them in the democrat party, and that, without them having to team up with a “racist.”

Every major voice in the Alt. Right naively believes that ideas motivate movements, when, in reality, it’s the other way around: movements motivate ideas. Until the heart changes, until it reawakens, the mind will always spew-out justifying rationalizations for corpse philosophy.

I’ll be supporting the Spencer / Edwards campaign. I hope and pray they have “success”, but even if a miracle happens and they end up winning the presidency, it’ll only ever be a rear-guard action.

Democracy, friends, will never save us.

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Make Some White Noise


~ For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack. ~ Kipling

My friend Tony Martel has written a book called “Awesomely White” and, as the title suggests, it is awesome to be white. He’s got that much right, at least, even if it can only be admitted with a hint of tragic irony. Oddly enough, few commentators, even in the pro-white community, wax eloquent about our wonderful pigment – an oversight Martel seeks to correct:

I haven’t felt alienation since discovering my whiteness. It has connected me to aspects of who I am that society worked overtime to deny. It has given me the tools to build up who I truly am. It has given me a context about who I am in the universe. ~ pg. 72

Our skin color is, says Martel, akin to a uniform – an overt and in-your-face declaration of the team to which we belong. It’s a team that has a myriad of accomplishments, gauged (of course) by the measure of modern technocracy: we’ve built many cool machines and structures. This awes moderns to no end and is (exclusively?) the measure by which we judge greatness. Included here are political machines, those pesky machinations that have brought “joy” to countless.

I’ve always hated this view, but then again, I’m an outcast in pro-white circles. A pernicious gadfly, maverick, and accused misanthrope. I wouldn’t live up to those charges if I meekly accepted them, but whatever the outcome of my trial, I refuse to give up loyalty to the man Christ (and my subsequent commentary) in favor of soulless technobabblry. The glory of our skin color has little to do, in my opinion, with the things we’ve made or the people we’ve conquered; rather, it has to do with the purity and love we exemplify as the only race to have taken Christ into our hearts and collectively expressed His glory to the world.

There is nothing like the miracle of the European hearth. No socialist machine, no work of wood or stone, can equal it. It is the divine channel of grace. We bring ourselves closer to God as we warm ourselves by white hearth fires. This is our place, as white men: the poetic leaders of our cancerous and anesthetized race. Should we, by providence, awaken from the techno-haze of modernity, our job is to become aristocrats of the soul. To crawl, feelingly and with trembling fingers, back to that white hearth.

It’s here Martel’s work shines whitest. Some would-be sophists in our circles may look down on it for its simplicity, yet that’s what I found most charming. He foregoes outlining the achievements of whites, preferring instead to document his own challenging rise from the ashes; and, it’s an epic rise, worthy of a poem. Few can boast of having been deeper in thralldom to Satan. Martel began life as a thoroughly indoctrinated, raceless, and (perhaps?) soul-dead white. Surrounded by multiculturalism and its accompanying drivel about “equality”, he managed to “awaken” to racial self-consciousness through a series of accidental brushes with reality. The devil’s lies, after all, are self-refuting, and a white boy who tries to reconcile them will, eventually, jettison them all together.

After a harrowing account of his fateful day at the university, when he stood in class and delivered an outcry about the inconsistency of his training, he seeks out alternative views. He finds the likes of Jared Taylor and, perhaps most importantly, James Edwards and the Political Cesspool. God bless Edwards for his continuing dedication and (sometimes) thankless crusade.

From there, we’re treated with an account of Martel’s journey, onward and upwards into whiteness. Especially interesting are his anecdotes about traveling through Europe and his battle with being white in modern America. Yes, our poor author found himself homeless and surrounded by ideological foes – adrift in the corpse of a once-great civilization.

And yet he bravely soldiers on, armed with the knowledge of his place by the white hearth. His journey is not only fascinating, it’s inspirational. Any young white man struggling with the same issues would do well to look to the heroes Martel references in his book; but they’d also do well to look to Martel. He, like his namesake the great Charles Martel, has earned a place in the pantheon of white heroes.

I hope I can be half the man…

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