Jet-lagged and horny for racewar, I went for a 1am stroll around downtown Stockholm. I didn’t find what I was looking for. Everywhere was deserted. I had expected more from this place, even on a weekday night. But there was not a Muslim to be seen. I found myself walking by a massive stone building–a bombastic relic of Sweden’s former majesty. It felt like the White House–only three times bigger and not dumpy. Maybe it was the king’s residence.
Regardless, no one would have stopped me if I had strutted up to the front door and slept on the stoop–no soldiers, no cops, not even a groundskeeper. Only when I tried to short-cut my way through a grandiose alley did I encounter three drunk-sounding cops in stupid yellow outfits who, upon noticing, gave me a “hej! odele odele,” which I assume was their attempt atÂ “fuck off guy.”
Out back there was also an elongated igloo with a man/woman sign on it. It looked like aÂ bombproof sauna. Perhaps this was the Swedish government’s way of encouraging degenerates to do their dirty work out of public view. Although, with the proper motivation, I’m sure we could put such things to much more suitable uses.
As I walked around “the palace,” a soulless techno-throb cut throughÂ the crisp night air. As I approached its source, it occurred to me that when I was younger, I would have felt immense jealousy for all of the partiers–drinking and dancing with a chance to fornicate. But now it was different.Â I’ve had my fill of all that. Tonight I felt like Beowulf coming to Heorot,Â theÂ full of happy drinking and feasting, Â its dwellers forcing themselves to forget the menace lurking beyond the fen.Â I was not tempted. My lust stirred only for great deeds.
So after guzzling a Guinness while walking across the bridge back to my hostel, I fell asleep fully clothed on my crummy top bunk in my 6-man dorm. Â None of this is ok. We have to stop the muzzies.
The next day I set out for Oslo. Normally I would have a plan, but I really want to improve my skills at spontaneity. So I boarded the first regional train I could find bound for Oslo (albeit with changeovers). A few months ago, I bought a Eurail pass for 17 days of travel. Theoretically I should be able to get on any train that isn’t an express without any fuss. This is how it had worked for me in Germany a few years ago. But here too, Sweden has to be a pain in the ass. Most of the trains require reservations. In the end, I got as far as Orebro before I missed a connection and had to suck it up and buy a real bus ticket.
Orebro is a second-rate city. I had to spend an hour and a half in this purgatory, apparently for the sin of not understanding how to use the Eurail application (btw, fuck anyone who says “app”). I walked 100 meters away from the train/bus terminal and I got a eyefull of Mogadishu. Well, not really The Mog, but a mash-up of Somalia and 1990s Canada. To experience this foul hybrid, I probably could have just gone to Minneapolis, but this was cooler. The whites and third-worlders seemed to be living in a funny detente. I sensed the tension, the depression, the want of asabiyyah. But, despite the gypsies outside every grocery store, race-war seemed far from imminent.
The first thing I noticed (after the swarms of thirdies) were the Mormons. In under 10 minutes I saw 2 pairs of panted-and-tied fags in raincoats doing cold-approaches on random non-Muslims.
My first thought was the same “fucking Mormans” anti-cultism that had made me suspicious of Mitt Romney in 2012, and that would later lead me to anti-semitism. But that’s another story. As I reflected, I realized that these Maroonies were on the same sort of mission I was, even if for them it was about helping people. They are going out into the ruins of The West to save what they can–healthy white people with middling IQs. Maybe their approach is the only way out. While I am busy trying to salvage Western Civilization for one lastÂ go at the stars, they are calmly laying the way for what comes after the inevitable Fall. Like Christians proselytizing Romans in the very shadows of the old temples, the Mormons know that, for Faustian Civ, all is lost. I guess they are focused on out-recruiting competing mystery cults and revving up for the doctrine wars that accompany the death throes of a great religious system.
I turned west and found the city center. A squat castle sat in the middle of a lake. Across the street was a bus stop. It started drizzling, so I walked up to the church. The interior was Gothic, simple, elegant and totally empty. The only other person inside was at the piano–tuning it. But he seemed to be knocking on the keys in such a way as to accidentally produce minor progressions. If it had been intentional, it would have been less eerie.
I had a satisfying sandwich at Subway and reported to the bus terminal and left for Oslo. I also decided to come back.