The Braggart

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Men who brag about wanting to meet Jesus have something seriously wrong with them. You all don’t have to share this opinion. Our judgements of others are influenced by life’s little anecdotes as well as individual temperaments, so I don’t offer this as a universal truth. You can take it or leave it. But I reiterate: there’s something wrong with a man who so boasts. Don’t trust him.

There’s too much of the pharisee in modern Christians. Their holiness consists in outward shows of piety, while on the inside, they’re petty, cruel, and tyrannical. Ohhhh…by their own admission (they’ll have you know), they’re on excellent terms with Christ. Their every word is Scripture and if you disagree with them, you’re “disagreeing with the Bible!” Is it naivete? Stupidity? Or down right sorriness? Yes and yes. It’s that petty, streak of meanness that runs through the hearts of both the cultist and the revolutionary alike – the two are the same creature, after all.

I’m absolutely terrified of meeting Jesus. He’ll see right to the black heart of me; all my weaknesses instantly revealed. The shame of it will be unbearable. And yes, yes, my pharisee, cult friends are right. He’s forgiven us. That’s what Easter is all about. But friends, there’s a reason the men in the Bible fell to their faces and weren’t able to speak in the presence of the Lord.

I thought about all this yesterday morning as I drove to my special place of prayer to watch the sunrise. On Sundays or on holy days, I like to devote my prayers specifically to thanksgiving, worship, praises (and the like). Too often my regular prayers turn into strategy sessions where I hash out what I’ve already decided while God watches from the sidelines. Sometimes those prayers drift into daydreams or drag up new worries. But on holy days, I allow none of that.

Only, yesterday, not for the first or last time, I was speechless before the throne. What do you say to a perfect and holy God? What can you really do other than fall (even if only metaphorically) to the ground and beg for mercy? But then we hear that wonderful voice that touches us lightly and says:

“…be not afraid. Stand!”

Beware the man who takes that voice lightly.

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Shotgun vs. Hipstergrass

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Modern bluegrass needs its own category: “Hipstergrass.”

The Dixie Chicks and Nickel Creek, back in the 90’s, started the slide, and now every two-bit suspender-wearing degenerate is strumming a banjo, claiming to sing old time music, and wearing the thickest framed glasses he (or she) can find.

Their music is about how bad blacks were treated, or about the “fusion” of urban culture with the surrounding rural landscape. Sara Watkins, the girl from Nickel Creek, has joined up with Sarah Jarosz and formed a group called: “I’m With Her”, for example, an obvious nod towards Hillary. Other groups (like “The Dead South”) are explicit in their views and feature prominent diversity. In all, there’s a new melody resounding around Appalachia (whenever these clowns see fit to visit): Dear white boy…your culture no longer belongs to you.

If I were two ounces more musically inclined, I’d go to war with these people.

I have a cousin who is in the thick of all this. He’s a prominent blues musician and having been indoctrinated at the nearby college, he now tries to educate us backward whites on the history and importance of his chosen genre. Specifically, the blues (according to one of his presentations I attended), were developed as a way for blacks to secretly voice the frustration they felt, living under the unbearable yoke of white domination. It was a way for them to make sly jokes without being lynched by the Klan, which, apparently, was hiding just around every corner.

He’s often encouraged me to check out the “Carolina Chocolate Drops”, a rare band of negro “old time” musicians. My cousin’s entourage approves and have often suggested other “bluegrass” for me to check out. It’s always the same story. Always the same hipstergrass.

There’s a larger point to be made:

Many of these people are really good musicians. Unfortunately, they’ve become acolytes of the new religion. The very people who, in a Christian world, would be making the most beautiful music, are obsessed with praising the devil.

While the situation is bad, there might be hope.

See, these hipstergrass musicians are trying to be the poetic voice of their people, but it’s a major doctrine of their religion to give up any notion of having a “people”. As a result, their songs are nonsensical (in many cases), formulaic, and without spirit. They latch on to jews or blacks (who still have a people) or they sing about vacuous nothings. This can’t last forever. They’ll eventually lose interest whenever a new fad comes around and those with one foot still in that ol’ time religion, will have the field to themselves.

When that happens, we may no longer hear banjos on the radio, but front porches across the South will, once again, sound forth the music of Dixie.

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A Rose From the Ruins

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“What would you do, Captain Quantrill, were yours the power and the opportunity?” inquired the secretary.

“Do, Mr. Secretary? I would wage such a war as to make surrender forever impossible. I would break up foreign enlistments by indiscriminate massacre. I would win the independence of my people or I would find them graves.” ~ The Autobiography of Cole Younger

The secretary turned down Captain Quantrill’s request for generalship, presumably because of the above sentiment. The Confederates were determined to be gentleman. In hindsight – and this is a new feeling for me – I’m not sure Quantrill was wrong. If any of the Confederates were alive today and could see our modern savagery, they might, along with us, wish Quantrill had been given free reign. Cole Younger was right when, earlier in the book, he says “Gray heads suffer because younger ones had not been noosed”.

As it is, there’s not enough rope for all the lynching needed today.

My readers might guess it’s the recent London terror attack that has me riled. You’re all half right. I am not surprised Muslims are killing people. This one is far from the first (or last) of such crimes. No, what I’m angry about is the way Satanic lunatics are attempting to justify this one.

The Islamic mayor of London (!?) says these sorts of attacks are to be expected in large cities. The “social justice warriors” chime in with the same talking points. “There is no crime wave. There is no rape epidemic” they say. “The normal amount of crimes and rapes are taking place but the bias of the government and news media – those evil bastions of right wing propaganda – report the Muslim ones more often. They’re trying to scare whites into racial aggression.” Their recommendation? Open our arms wider. Be more welcoming. Double-down on our anti-racism.

Can such be reasoned with? Given my Presbyterian rationalism (which I’m now cured of, I hope), I used to try. I never realized how ridiculous I looked. I saw that foolishness on display in a recent podcast where a panel of young commentators from different ends of the political spectrum discussed their differences. There was an “anarcho-syndacalist” (a radical left-wing Marxist), an “anarcho-capitalist” (who sounded homosexual), a left-leaning moderate (admitted he was confused and would probably listen more than contribute), the host (a self-styled Christian traditionalist), a “manosphere-type” (with generic Alt. Right leanings but who was mostly interested in discussing feminism), and a self-professed Alt. Right fascist.

Their discussion quickly turned into a debate when the Alt. Right guy suggested there was a muslim rape epidemic in Sweden. The Marxist quickly chimed in with the talking point I’ve outlined above. The anarcho-capitalist agreed with the Marxist and suggested the Alt. Right guy had no real stats or data to support his ludicrous claim. After all, said the Marxist, most rapes are committed by someone the victim knows and it’s ridiculous to think there are gangs of muslims, roaming the streets looking for white women to violate. The two Alt. Right guys attempted to argue until the one got so disgusted, he said “I don’t care! I don’t care what the statistics are! I want them all out of Sweden!”

He should have led with that.

The Marxist understood the religious nature of the debate from the outset. His was a religious passion. He openly suggested violence is necessary to bring in his utopian scheme (although, he quickly added he wouldn’t personally be open to practicing it because of his Buddhism – he couldn’t speak for his fellow anarchists, however).

None of the other panelists had the religious passion to match the Marxist’s. They had a secularized version of my old Presbyterian rationalism.

So what, then, Shotgun?

I’ll tell you what. At least, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do: I’m going to find the prettiest, kind-hearted, woman I can, and marry her. And I’m going to begin creating a small piece of the old Europe that used to exist – build it on top of the ruins.

And that, ladies and gents, is a far better use of my time than attempting to rhetorically force a Satanist into conceding some minor ideological point.

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Fasting: To be Continued…

– Bad luck strikes again. Or maybe it’s God’s providence? For reasons beyond my control life has stepped in requiring me to break my fast earlier than I had planned. Still, I made it five days, so I suppose that’s something, right?

– It’s difficult to fast anyway but doing so when in your everyday environment, with the everyday cares spiraling around you, is extra challenging. All the more reason to “go into the desert”, even if only a metaphorical one.

– I was doing really well this time and I’m disappointed, even a little discouraged I’m unable to go longer at the moment. Nevertheless, doing an extended fast (30 days or longer) is a goal of mine I refuse to give up on.

– Basically – a job opportunity surfaced and I’m not in a situation where I can afford to turn it down because of a water fast. Nevertheless, 2017 is my year and I’m determined to do a long one before December. I have enemies reading my blogs so I wont say too much about the job, only that it’ll be largely sedentary and with planning, I ought to be able to work while fasting. That’s not ideal, I know, but it should be doable.

– Despite the shortness of the fast, I feel my insulin is balanced, my gut is slightly better off, and I’m no longer addicted to nicotine. I’ll abstain from smoke and sugar for the foreseeable future. I want to be in shape again! New job, new body…who knows, maybe I can have a new life too?

Thanks for all the prayers and encouragement and I humbly apologize if I’ve let anyone down.

I’ve said it before and I’ll reiterate now: I hope to morph this blog into more of a personal, lifestyle type blog. I’m even thinking of changing the name. Something like: “The Alt. Life” or some such? Or…and this is crazy… I’m kicking around the idea of a video “vlog”…a weekly (bi-weekly?) youtube presentation. Not many of those in the Alt. Right at the moment and certainly none devoted to the type of lifestyle / fitness / motivation / book reviews / philosophy / wildlife / martial arts / vocational / etc. etc. stuff I could bring to the table. Still, do I want to trivialize my image and “de-personalize” myself by being a youtube celebrity? (Assuming anyone would even watch)?

Stay tuned…

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Fasting Log: Day 4

– Bad dreams. Woke up at five in the morning and couldn’t get back to sleep. I kept hashing and re-hashing old failures, past humiliations, and mistakes. Got up, took a long hot shower, but even then, it was some time before I could drift back to sleep. After waking up for the second time, I felt mildly better.

– Gross, I know, but I was able to use the bathroom. Looked normal. Last time I fasted, my stool was bright orange for some reason. I reiterate: I know this is gross, but it’s something fasters pay close attention to, for good reason.

– For those wondering about my scheduled duel over a lady’s honor, I didn’t blog about it but the situation was resolved a few weekends ago. I attended the first-ever Atlanta Forum conference – a conference mostly attended by self-professed “Alternative Rightists” who associate with the “Daily Shoah” and “The Right Stuff” online communities. However, Matthew Heimbach also showed up, as did other leading young Southerners (Hunter Wallace, Michael Cushman, etc.). I was supposed to meet the offending party there for a duel of fists. After much pleading, the lady in question called me off as her champion, citing concern for the safety of those involved and suggesting the apologies she received through email were sufficient enough to satiate the offense.

– On that, we’ve become fond of each other after much correspondence. She is really pretty, and a Christian. The only problem is that she’s a Roman Catholic. She’s what those in the Alt. Right call a “trad catholic” and a sedevacantist (she dislikes the pope more than I do). I don’t want to be presumptuous here (forgive me, readers, for speculating), but how would a marriage between a hypothetical person like that and a hypothetical person like me possibly be manageable? Speaking for myself, I have too much respect for the spirit of the religion the hypothetical gal holds to – too much to try and argue her away from it. And argue her into what? Modern Presbyterianism?! God forbid! I’d be hell bound if I was successful. But again, speaking for myself, I can never submit to a corrupt human bureaucracy, claiming to be *the* official divine organization on Earth. No pair of green eyes, no matter how pretty, can make me do that. Maybe the safe thing for this hypothetical couple to do would be to guard their hearts and part ways before getting too emotionally tangled? My wisdom says that’s right, but…but… she reads Sir. Walter Scott!

– I’ll post the recap of day 5 tomorrow, but after that, I think I’ll only post a fasting log every five days. It’ll get repetitive otherwise. So, after day five, I’ll post another on day 10, then on day 15, and so on, for as long as I can make it.

Many thanks to those of you who are praying, following my progress, and encouraging me. Sometimes, in the early afternoon, when images of gourmet medium-rare cheeseburgers (topped with blue cheese crumbles, avocado, and bacon) start floating through my mind…I need all the prayer and encouragement I can get.

Stay healthy friends!

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Fasting Log: Day 3

– Woke up around 5 in the morning. Last time I fasted, I had trouble sleeping a full night and it seems that’s starting again. Fortunately, after a long, hot, shower, and a few gulps of water, I was able to fall back to sleep for another five hours. The more I sleep, the better my body will be able to utilize the fast – at least, that’s the theory. So I’m trying to get at least 12 hours a night.

– Nevertheless, I woke up in an incredible mood. I was almost giddy. I’ve been having vivid, memorable dreams. Good dreams where I’m surrounded by friends and I’m accomplishing great things. I suspect my dreams, in this case, are a reflection of the giddy spirits attained from fasting. I know from past experience, it wont stay this way. I’m in for rough emotional weather.

– In fact, many people report emotional turmoil while fasting. It’s said this is our body offering us a chance to parse through these old emotions, understand them, and try to resolve them by forgiving those involved, or … well, it’s unclear in the literature how we’re supposed to do this. For my part, I’ve found fasting makes it easier to realize what’s causing a negative emotion, to analyze it, and resolve it. Usually this is done by forgiving the person involved or having clear paths to resolution present themselves (eg: after the fast, I’m writing so-and-so a letter to explain this or that).

– It was Valentine’s Day, so I prayed for my future wife (whomever, wherever, and ifever, she is); also, I watched a sappy romantic comedy: “While You Were Sleeping” with Sandra Bullock. She was cute back then. What happened? Some Alt.Right guys might call it a “Beta-Cuck fest”…but I’m not so sure. Bullock’s character was lady-like, after all, as opposed to the feminist harpy being wooed in romances today. Also, I don’t recall any stereotypical faggotry – there were no homosexuals in the upper-class family. If all urbanites were like the family in that movie, they wouldn’t need crushing. (H/T to the Crush the Urbanite meme). Also, there was no pre-marital sex. Imagine a “rom/com” like that today!

– As is typical for me when fasting, my brain has gotten fuzzy and scattered. This happened almost from day 1. It’s difficult to focus, read, or write. Meditating is very difficult. Hopefully this will pass as, for now, it’s hard to even pray or read the Bible, which are two of the biggest things I need to be doing.

– I didn’t drink much water at all. I’ve been managing about a gallon of distilled water a day, but decided, owing to rumors in the fasting culture / literature, that I’d slow down my drinking and see if that speeds the detox process. While it was nice not to have to run to the restroom ever twenty minutes, I’m not sure it helped me any. By this time during my last fast, I already had what they call “faster’s mouth” – a perpetually slimy, bad taste in the mouth indicative of cleansing (especially for a cigar smoker). This hasn’t manifested itself yet this go-round, and I suspect it’s because I didn’t drink enough. I’ll go back to the whole gallon for day 4, but I’ll drink it slowly instead of large gulps. A gradual hydration might help my body assimilate and use the water better than a deluge, which gets passed out soon after it goes in.

– I’m going to have to cut back on the showers. My skin is getting too dry because of them and I don’t want to use any lotions. This may sound gross to some, but while fasting, I don’t use any products at all. No shampoo, deodorant, or even toothpaste. I do brush and floss, but using only water. If I need to run into town for something…(I know, I know: fasting experts are rolling their eyes at that but in my defense, there are scenic places I like to drive to and watch the sunset)…I’ll take a shower first. Keeping track of body odor (of whatever sort) is a good way to track the body’s detoxification. Plus, I don’t want to add anymore toxicity to the body; it’s got enough work to do as it is.

 

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Fasting Log: Day 2

– Detox symptoms came back this evening. I’m having mild headaches but they go away with a hot shower and after drinking water.

– Water…let’s talk about that. Last time I fasted, I distilled all my water. By about day six, I was getting overly nauseous, weak, and sick. Taking the advice of some (who suggested I might be low on “electrolytes”), I stopped drinking distilled water and began drinking the fresh mountain well water. The nausea seemed to lessen although, thinking back, I ended the fast soon afterwards so I’m not sure, after all, if it was the water or not. In fact, fasting gurus (and the literature), while somewhat ambiguous, lean towards suggesting that all the minerals and nutrients the body needs are already present and are accessed during the fast. Additionally, the diehard proponents of distillation have a point, county water is a petri dish of bubbling chemical concoctions. God knows what kind of fluoride, chlorine, or who knows what all, is in our water; I’m especially suspicious of the tap quality here. Weighing these things for what they’re worth, I’ve decided to try distilling all my water again this g0-round. I’ll try my best to tough it out if the detox symptoms get severe.

– On that, they say all sorts of ailments occur while fasting, as a result of the body cleansing itself of toxins. Headaches, nausea, vomiting, cramps, etc. Hopefully, given my history of cleanses and fasting, these symptoms wont be too severe.

– Another issue the fasting literature is unclear about is the taking of medicinal baths. I like to scrub myself down, really exfoliate the pores, then soak in mixtures. My favorite is the Epson salt and ginger bath; when you get out, your entire body has a pleasant warming glow. Very relaxing. I’m not sure if the salts seeping in through the skin are enough to disturb the fasting process. I hope not because medicinal baths are helpful psychological replacement of meal time.

– My tongue has turned white. If you look up water fasts on youtube, many of the people will document the color of their tongues over time. Supposedly, this means the body is starting to cleanse itself. When most of the toxins are gone (or when you begin eating normally again), the tongue changes back to its normal pink. Whatever someone may say about the theory, it’s a fact that when I start fasting, my tongue quickly turns white and when I’m done fasting, it changes back.

– Writing at night like this is a burden to me and interrupts my routine. I think, henceforth, I’ll post a new update the next day. So, for example, I’ll post my recap of day 3 on the morning of day 4. That’s when I’m up and have the most energy anyway.

If you’re following along, I could appreciate your prayers. This is no easy task. If you’re reading this years later, I hope you find encouragement in my daily chronicling. Maybe you’ll find something helpful for your own water fast?

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Fasting Log: Day 1

Bullet point style:

– Sunday, February 12, was the first day of my water fast. I hope to go at least thirty days, hopefully forty.

– I apologize to my readers for the long gap in my posting. It’s never good for an aspiring writer to say, but I’ve been too emotionally conflicted and uninspired to write anything of value (not saying I’ve *ever* written anything of value). Dead inside. Or am I?

– I’m approaching this fast differently than all my others. This time, I’m especially trying to focus on prayer and meditation. “Meditation” has always been a bad word for me. It smacks of eastern mysticism and hippy nonsense. Nevertheless, to help my fast, I’m reading “The Willpower Instinct” by Kelly McGonigal and have been convinced of the practical merits. The idea, in short, is to clear your mind as best you can. This exercised focus increases blood-flow to the frontal lobes of the brain, causing growth in the relevant areas that strengthen self-control. When your mind begins (inevitably) to wander, you force it back to the calm. In so-doing, you build up a resistance to impulse and capricious mental activity. Seems to be working.

– My fast was supposed to start Thursday, but I hadn’t adequately cleansed from nicotine; the withdrawal and detox symptoms were so bad, I decided to extend my starting date (yet again), to Sunday the 12th.

– Because of an extended period of pre-fast preparation, day 1 was almost painless, with only slight detox symptoms. I had a mild headache in the late evening. It was gone completely this morning when I woke up.

– The demonic is already starting, though. To my techno-pagan materialist readers, this will sound overly-fantastic, but I believe that when a Christian man fasts and prays and tries to cleanse himself spiritually – the devil comes a knocking. Last night, for example, when I came downstairs to use the bathroom, I was inexplicably struck with a feeling of panic, fear, and dread. I began looking around the house; all was dark. However, the motion sensor on the shed outside was lit up. Why? Was it a coyote? A stray dog or cat? A large bird? Or was it something else? The thing almost never comes on and we don’t have habitual strays wandering through the property. Maybe it was nothing; but why the inexplicable fear? I’ve got my Bible with me.

– I’ll re-cap today, my symptoms, anything noteworthy, etc. before I go to bed. So if you’re at all interested in the day-to-day struggles involved in water fasting, stay tuned.

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(15): Shotgun vs. the Crazy Man

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One of the only routine pleasures I have is driving to the waterfront and enjoying a cigar while looking around at the prettiest scenery in the south. I do it while listening to philosophy lectures or working through audio books.

Last week I was enjoying myself as I’ve described, when someone began yelling a few blocks away. It sounded like “Stalker! Stalker!” Or maybe it was “Smoker!”

I wondered if he was yelling at me? Maybe he was so inundated by pop-culture’s war against tobacco that he took it upon himself to publicly shame me for my antiquated vice? Others in the parking lot were looking around confused and uncomfortable. The old man, himself, was walking a small maltese, and ambled on his way without clarifying the nature of his angst. I chalked it up to one of those weird public encounters that can’t be explained.

I saw him again today, however, around 1230, so I’m making a public record here in case he acts against me in the future (be it by getting the law involved or trying to attack me or who knows what).

I’m working through a Graham Greene novel – “Monsignor Quixote”, about a Catholic priest and a Marxist ex-Mayor who befriend each other in post-civil war Spain. They get mixed up in local adventures while arguing with each other about their conflicting worldviews. It’s a great little novel – I’ll expound on it later.

Having finished my cigar, I pulled out and headed home. As I was leaving, I saw the man standing there, glaring at me. He began yelling something and making (ungentlemanly-like) gestures.

If someone has a problem with me I like to resolve it immediately, so I circled the block, came back around, and parked in front of him. I hopped out and walked over.

“Do you have something you want to say to me, sir?”

I wont recount the bizarre conversation word for word, but the gist of it is: he accused me of being a spy, working on behalf of his “sexually degenerate” neighbor, and that I was stalking him.

“Sir, I promise you…I promise you I’m just down here listening to my book and don’t know you from Adam…”

“You need to get your [redacted]ing mother-[redacted]ing lying self away from me right now! Jesus has a place in Hell for liars and stalkers and degenerates!”

I told him to calm down and promised that in the future I’d try to avoid the waterfront if I saw him there. I don’t think that endeared him to me in anyway.

The guy obviously has some sort of mental issue – a pathological paranoia maybe? I don’t know, but I don’t plan on changing my habits for his sake.

What do you all think I should do?

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(14) Anyone Seen Kyle?

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…he’s about *this* tall. Seen Kyle? Seen Kyle?

The NPI conference has become the most hip and controversial conference of the Alternative Right. It and the AMREN are about the only two big events we have. And this weekend’s NPI topped the charts for controversy, with numerous audience members throwing up a Nazi salute at the end of Richard Spencer’s emotionally charged speech. Of course, the news media are spiraling down on the footage.

Unfortunately, many Alternative Right outliers are suggesting this is all bad press: “Government plants!”they’re saying. “Idiots” others suggest. Then, there’s the ever faithful: “this doesn’t make us look good.”

I threw up a Roman salute once. A crowd of degenerate protestors were clucking around outside the American Renaissance conference and Heimbach and I went out to confront them. After about an hour, the park police separated us. As we were walking off with the jeers and taunts of the protesters following us, I turned around and tossed it up. Sieg Heil, bitches!

It infuriated them, of course. Someone snapped a picture of me doing it and I was the center of a brief maelstrom of controversy (not for the first or last time, I suspect). “You make us look bad”, was the most common objection.

I developed a sociological metaphor then that’s equally applicable to Richard Spencer’s “Heilergate”. I call it the Government School Lunchroom analogy:

My government school was about 90% negro and during lunch, we’d all be corralled into the lunchroom together. The negros were terribly loud and uncontrollable during this period and we white boys were at our most vulnerable. Of course, there’d be no teacher or authority figure in sight. A small group of us white boy outcasts would congregate over near the doors. We’d sit on the handicap ramp and hope the negros didn’t notice us. They did, though, of course. For sport, they’d throw loose change at us. Whites learned early to eat their own, so whomever was hit would be attacked and jeered at by the other whites. I put up with this for about a day before I simply broke the rules and left the cafeteria. The other white boys soon followed, and from then on, we’d have a peaceful time of it outside, under the awnings.

Imagine this scene, if you will: the “it makes us look bad” crowd are still trapped in that cafeteria, hoping to God no one lobs them upside the head with a nickle. “If we just stay calm, keep to acceptable talking points, and don’t raise our voice, we’ll slip by unnoticed.” Thinking this way is a government-school induced psychosis.

No. The correct emotion here isn’t fear and a desire to maintain respectability. The correct emotion is anger and a reassertion of personal values.

So, no. I’m not a national socialist. In fact, I really don’t like socialism of any sort. But I do love Hitler and the German National socialists because of their symbolism: when you piss off white boys, they don uniforms, high-step, and sieg heil! Make us angry enough and we’ll re-conquer Europe.

…and whatever my quibbles with National Socialism, I’d rather live in the Third Reich than modern America. At least there, I wouldn’t have to worry about mass degeneracy in the streets and the slaughter of unborn infants.

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