A Day Of Deep Thought

I can feel a massive mood shift beyond the surface level culture war.

The US elections have sincerely changed the entire fabric of our reality. Even my dreams are different right now. The energy is different, the atmosphere itself is genetically changed. Western values are cool again. White men are asserting their position in the social pyramid using sarcasm, ridicule and good old fashioned wholesome racism. The rogue is making a return. The energy that I am feeling reminds me of a feeling I had in my childhood. That sort of early nineties haze. People are different there is no denying it. The left are either silent and vacuous now or else they are just cooler, more easy going and less militant. My conversations with people are different, partially because of my embrace of this new warmth that seems to be emanating from the collective subconscious of the West. There is no longer a battle against the Woke mind virus, it is surely slewn. Now there is a battle for the new way, the new identity. What has been colloquially known as “the right” is now a post battle campsite with various groups flying different banners debating over the fire. Although there is tempers flaring and sparks aplenty, this is the construction of a forge that will cast a new age. As the shift occurs, be mindful of who our enemies are. A polar shift in politics is afoot and now is a time for meditation.

If you compare what we have been through to a medieval battle, and place yourself in the position of peasant, what is it that you would be most concerned with if outside your village was an encampment of based far righters laughing jovially as they reminisce and recant the various battles and key moments. Would you be concerned? Would you feel safer knowing that they were the side that won? I know I would. I believe the general public, the non combatant civilians in all of this, are seeing this as a massive upgrade on what was there before. Better, more civilised men are going to be walking the roads now. They will breed a new generation of men after them that exemplify all of things we began to revive within ourselves and strove to restore. I am most certainly not the man mountain stoicist I should be given my breeding, but by reverting course, changing from a liberal waster in my teens into this nationalistic action man, I have broken the generational curse in my bloodline as have all of you in yours. This was the most difficult task any of us faced which was to break free from the liberal mind virus. Some of you may have been completely based all of your lives, and fair play to ye if ye were, but for me it has been a long arduous journey of internal ideological conflict. I am now sitting there in that apocalyptic post-battlefield warming my hands at the fire while the blood of tyrants dries on my blade. I am surrounded by my tribe. The winds of freedom are faint still but giving my cheeks respite from the flames.

The war is not over and Ireland is still the front line against the Combine. We have yet to instantiate a political entity that will seek to wield the levers of power, rather than rely on spurious cults of telekinesis and manifestation. The Tangibles are a force yet to transpire but their components are there. Steenson and Quinlan are causing the very walls in the halls of power buckle and crack. The very air in the chamber is wrought with sulphur such is the reaction to the sound of their voices. A pair of walking Crucifixes. Pray we will see a united congregation. For now we support, no matter the creed, all who fought valiantly against the woke demon lords and their hordes of mentally arrested forever children.

Antiquity is now again, proving that no matter how far the progressives take us in whatever perverted direction they go, the elastic band will always snap back to the natural order of things. A force older than any manifesto or commandment and perhaps the first ever to be conceived. Sitting in this circle with all of you as we just soak it all in is surreal. A healing moment as we hear scattered battles still raging on the horizon. Many of you have done your fighting. You rolled the dice enough and will quit while you are ahead. I don’t blame you. I feel that way too. What else can I offer this army that has assembled? They are better than me in every way. Upgrades. Yes, I was one of the first to draw my sword without any master to teach me. I relied on books and film and the observable techniques of my comrades. I employed my own ideas and won propaganda battles against the giants of Montrose. I organised meetings and public events the island over. But now there are a hundred of me. A thousand maybe. What good am I now stepping into battle. What even is the next battle? There is the question.

There runs a risk of the forever revolution. A sickness that takes over the mind where there is always an evil in the world and therefore I must always be in a state pitched battle with it. Nothing feeds that evil more than an infinity war. In this circumstance we are only reflecting back an image of Trotsky’s Permanent revolution through our nationalist cause. At some point we have to build a political wall between us and them and live our lives. To do this we must batter them so hard that it takes them a generation or two to plant their standard. During that time we can relive something like the roaring twenties or the 1950’s. I believe our fighting is not done yet. We have to achieve a reversal of demographic replacement. We need to see mass deportations from the west in an exercise of international embarrassment for these third world ingrates. They must be endowed with generational shame for how they have behaved in our lands. It must become a teachable moment for humanity. An Aesops’s Fables type story that travels down through the ages. The Great Retribalisation.

As I sit here with you at this metaphorical fire circle, I want you to envision yourselves as warriors. Maintain that warrior image in your minds eye, return to it in moments of doubt or when there are periods of calm like we see now. Stare into the flame of your soul and listening to the sticks snap and spit in the heat.

Cherish this feeling. We will be marching again soon.