Are the Muslims just dull, or does random terrorism help their demographic jihad? The Alt-Right notices who the perps are, but what about the victims? Why are bobo, liberal Westerners the target of most attacks, and not patriots? Join the discussion with Vince the Slav, Sven the Swede and Greg the orientalizing Italo-German.
The bros also tackle the American political scene. The press is trying to derail the Trump Train with pessimistic and mendacious headlines. Does the Right have the wherewithal to wait them out?
Pat Buchanan says The God-Emperor is still in the game! Unz commentariat has defeatist melt-down.
I love Munich. This is my third time here. Munich is a cozy metropolis, full of cafes, traditional restaurants, old book-stores, gardens–all preserved more or less in their pre-war state. In the cathedrals, one can feel a definite connection with his Faustian soul, his past, his people. And in these streets, our heroic SA forebearers went toe-to-toe with international Bolshevism. Hitler, Rohm, Goering, Himmler–The Dream began here, in Munich. Her beer-halls were the stage for countless sessions of fashy broing (a tradition which AI has continued).
There is only one problem.
In a way, I owe this city my awakening. The first time I came here, as a college student, I noticed the Arabs. Having studied Arabic and German, I was at first excited at the chance to practice both. But something felt off. In this idyllic Bavarian city, there were packs of fat Arab women black niqabs carrying on in their filthy Gulf dialect. I was all for experiencing foreign cultures… but Munich was for Germans, wasnâ€™t it? If I wanted to see the traditional Arab womanâ€™s costume, complete with BDSM-style nose-piece, I could go to Dubai. You certainly would not seeÂ Bavarians or lederhosen there. Even then, before my racial awakening, I sensed the significance of this disparity.
The second time I came was three years ago–the eve of the Storm. Not much had changed. The barbarians still blotted the aesthetic, but Munich remained essentially German. The old-timers wore elements of the traditional costume (â€œTrachtenâ€) the same way Texans wear cowboy stuff–with a tint of archaism, but still naturally. Munich seemed ready to putter on as a quaint, second-tier city for a few centuries, before it sank back into its landscape.
Now itâ€™s over. Munich reeks of cosmopolitan death. Perhaps her buildings will endure, but only as fossils to befuddle her inheritors. The Arabs have won. They are everywhere and they are rich. The blocks directly south of the Hauptbahnhoff are infested, but you see them in droves in the nice parts of town too. Especially in the nice parts. They seem to have nothing to do but shop and be seen. It is ironic. For a people so concerned with modesty, they certainly go all out on the clothes, the jewlery and the make-up. Form over content. No wonder the Quran is so beautiful.
You do not need to be reminded that you are paying for this, in one way or another. The safe, trusting societies that your ancestors built through centuries of struggle and hardship for youÂ cannot survive what these people bring. Inter-ethnic economic competition is the least of it. There will be blood. There already is.
I have only spent 10 days of my life in Munich. But it really does feel like my European home-city. Every time I have come, I visit my old haunts, buy a couple books, get a new shirt. I have a ritual. My three visits, being spaced out over the years, have had an outsized effect. Itâ€™s like the PUA â€œvenue change” move, go to a couple bars with a girl and sheâ€™s more likely to sleep with you. And each visit has marked a different stage in my personal development–first as an innocent boy, then as a purposeless youth, now as a man–all too filled with purpose.
Miscegenation is the worst. These days in Munich have made me understand the Swedesâ€™ predicament better. They are suffering from abject demoralization. I did not really understand that when I visited Sweden. Yes, it was deeply unsettling to see your race being cucked, but I have no particular attachment to Sweden.
In Munich, I started to get it. Seeing it in your home is a thousand times worse than seeing it in a strange environment. It ruins all the good memories you have of the place. You feel you are losing a piece of your own past. It is like watching a friend let himself go–one more obnoxious tattoo, a few more ripples of Pillsbury spilling over the belt, a newfound penchant for Scientology–in the end, the good memories are pushed out by the ballooning disgust.
There are three possible reactions: fight, give in, or go Chateau Heartiste. Now, go ahead. I hear the unwashed voices of a thousand manosphere spergs advising the CH option. Get degenerate, approach, be an insouciant douche, save the white girl from his barbarism and subject her to yours. I admit I used to be of this mind.
The option is tactically sound, but strategically counter-productive. If you suppress your disgust and wreck miscegenation by legally acceptable means, you have to poison your own mind. You have to convince yourself that sexual promiscuity is all in good fun. You have to not care. But, this is one thing we should care about profoundly–racial hygiene. There is a huge difference between reveling in butt-hurt when another guy gets the girl, and getting righteously pissed to see a kebab polluting your gene-pool. That is not an emotion you should try to suppress, even tactically. It is the healthiest, sanest and purest emotion you can ever have.
And even if you out-alpha the brownie, your are only subjecting a female of your race to a different (albeit lesser) form of social pollution. Hooking up is masturbation with a partner. It will not propagate our race. It may make you more confident with the next woman, but it will certainly make her less fit to be a wife and a mother. If we want to WIN, we need to annihilate this cancer. It seems that the alt-right, including many of the most fervent PUAs, is starting to see that.
But fighting is not yet an option. The legal and social repercussions for the individual are utterly debilitating. So, in the meantime, each of us is forced to give in. Even the deftest player cannot CH-the-fuck-out every mudsharking or kebab-basting pair he sees. Even he must, more often than not,Â endure the humiliation. And, in an environment like Munich or Stockholm, you are forced to see it again and again and again. Most will faze it out, but the healthier your mind is, the more it screams for a shot at revenge that never seems to come. Enduring this mental cycle over and over, it is no wonder so many have given up.
The only healthy option is to fight, together. And we will, very soon. We will fight the way white men always have, as a group, totally committed to, and willing to die, for each other. That is the one force that no one can defeat.
Race-Tour 2016Â is winding down. I have a lot of material to process, which will likely serve as fodder for future articles and podcasts. My laptop has a Stasi-level archive, including pages of pseudo-intellectual musings, and hours of grainy recordings of me trolling Arabs and Lesbians. So goyim, buckle up.
But the fun isnâ€™t over yet. I have a few more objectives to hit: Munich (spiritual reasons), Berlin again, a certain hamlet in Denmark, Stockholm and Iceland. Before I launch on this final, exclusively Germanic leg of Race-Rour 2016 (RT16), I decided to do a little AAR. How did my original assumptions compare to the reality on the ground? What is to be done about our race’s predicament?
At the very onset, Vince and I concluded that the Nords were not the key to White salvationÂ (Link to Vince’s two-part series). All the memes were basically right. While Nords are most exposed to the problem, they are sadly the most inured to it. That brought about the question of southern, “frontier” whites. Could they be the source of a racial awakening?
I conceived RT16 back in February. At the time, the Hadji hoards were swelling up for another summer storm, with monthly numbers of immivaders, despite the cold, exceeding even the stats for last summer. There was a good chance of tens or hundreds of thousands by summer. “Born too late to explore the earth, born too early to explore the galaxy”… born just in time for the Great European Race War. I was positively giddy.
There was no way anyone was going to get a handle on the situation. The European governments drank their own Kool-Aid. They were petrified by their own myopic, neo-Puritan ideology. Supranational powers like the EU and NATO (â€œThe Empireâ€) would let the immivasion continue, whether by incompetence or malice. Shit was going down. So great an influx of zombie-Hadjis would certainly lead to a total collapse of the social order. Two outcomes seemed possible: Hungarian obstinacy would trigger a chain-reaction in the Balkans, with one government after another refusing to accept migrants, or a major political crisis would erupt in some core-European country.
I based my travel plan on this analysis. I would fly to Sweden, epicenter of POZ, then head south to Germany and Austria, where I figured most of the action would be. If, like 2015, the Balkans were crawling with sub-human streams, I would venture out into the old Hapsburg-Ottoman borderlands. I even went so far as to retool my Russian as Serbo-Croatian.
It did not quite work out that way. In March, the EU struck a deal with the Turks that cut the inflow to a trickle, thereby making all-out race-war unlikely this year. To use the now classic metaphor–the frog is being boiled slowly again. So instead, we have stalemate. If last year was 1914, this year is 1915. Positions have shifted, the losses have mounted–Cologne, Paris, Brussels, now Nice–but no decisive action has occurred. And worse, none seems possible.
I changed plans accordingly. After hitting Sweden with Vince, I figured the best place to see some action would be Italy and Greece, entrepÃ´ts of the Muzziepocalypse. It was not quite what I had hoped for, but Southern Europe provided a welcome contrast with the North. The race-problem was still stark, but in a different way. The aliens were there, and in big groups, but they (were) kept to themselves. I was relieved to see no cases of miscegenation.
The Southern Problem
But the locals let me down. I figured that Southerners would have a more realistic view of the Problem. They did. Indeed, southern dislike of the barbarian is instinctful. While many exhibit a veneer of liberal attitudes, few are impractical enough to really believe in them. Unfortunately, that visceral dislike rarely manifested itself in any sort of resolve. They know something is off, but they generally do not care enough to do anything about it. It probably will not affect them anyway. All they have to do is ship the next batch of dindus North and its la dolce vita again.
Two particular instances are illustrative. I had conversations with two middle-aged men on my last day in Thessalonica. Their opinions were far more realistic than the average Nordâ€™s, but their realism often crossed into outright cynicism. They had taken â€œthe Black Pill,â€ as we are calling it now.
I struck up a conversation with the first of them while sitting at a sidewalk cafe. He held an odd mix of totally based and utterly liberal opinions. He argued that the Greek economic crisis is fake, it is nothing more than a bankersâ€™ scam. Fair enough. On the other hand, he called the Syrian civil war â€œreal.â€ He argued that it was caused intentionally by the European powers, and therefore, â€œWe have to let them in.” But he conceded that Muslims cause problems, citing 9-11 as evidence that even a few could be very dangerous.
He also argued that Greece needed a totally crazy leader to clean up its economic problems. He cited Hitler as an example. When I pressed him about the refugee crisis, he recast his proposal. â€œThe whole world needs a leader like that.â€
He was vaguely Jew-aware. Not knowing my nationality, he stated that he liked the US, because there is a strong Greek lobby. I pointed out that, while true, the Greek-Americans have nothing on our main ethnic lobby. He nodded, and bragged that his people had gotten on with (((them))) well for centuries. I smirked. Supposedly the Arabs used to say that it takes two Jews to cheat a Greek.
He wondered about life in Washington, DC. I told him that the people in power are soulless, â€œThey look like this,” doing my best to emulate the shitlib 1000-cock stare. He recognized my meaning immediately and blurted out â€œcyber-metrics!” (I think he meant â€œcyborgsâ€). So, the Jews run the world through Washington cyborgs. At that point I excused myself. His world concept was ridiculously simplistic. Had this guy even read Culture of Critique?
The second man started talking to me in the nearly empty central train station (railroad strike). He spoke English very well, and claimed to have been around since the Korean War. Refusing to reveal his nationality, he mentioned Greek, Turkish and Israeli friends. He started talking to me to offer a warning: in this deserted station, a Bangladeshi was pimping a tall Serbian girl in a scheme to steal valuables from men. I was skeptical but went along. He complained that he told the security guard, but that they did nothing. He went on to bemoan our general situation, predicting that the Bangladeshis and Chinese would take over the world. â€œBut they did not build any of this (gesturing to the marble floors and walls), our fathers paid for it,â€ he said, pointing at himself and me.
I agreed, citing my experiences this summer, and asked â€œWhat can we do?.â€
He shot back, â€œNo, you canâ€™t get worked up! Thereâ€™s no point in getting worked up!â€
So to sum up, Europeans come in two basic types: frontier whites and interior whites. Interior whites (Germanics and the French) suffer all the worst delusions that the alt-right has so exhaustively critiqued. Frontier whites (eg. Italians, Greeks, Serbs) on the other hand are instinctively realistic. They make no pretense of liking the invader. Their shortcoming is not seeing the big picture. So long as their lives are not directly affected, they are content to let the Afro-Muzzies pass through. Several times I had the occasion, often standing next to a concentration of refugees, to ask a local if the migrants were a problem. Sometimes the problem was acknowledged. But too often they would shrug. â€œNot a problem. Everything is fine.â€
Of course this distinction ignores a number of others. It is not just interior vs frontier. It is city vs countryside, female vs male, young vs old. Youth, femininity and urbanity make people more likely to back their own peopleâ€™s dispossession. Itâ€™s the old yin and yang.
As I am finishing up this essay, my impeccably quiet train-car is gliding through the Austrian Alps. over a mountain town that looks exactly like the one from The Sound of Music. And, what do you know, a whole family of hadjis just entered my train car. They Syrio-Iraqis always come in big packs– an old man, two old women, two boys, two girls and two young bucks, one of whom is of course wearing a pink polo. In light of recent happenings, I am way too triggered to write anymore. I wish it would just start already.
Vince recounts his time in Siberia: eternal frontier of the Russian Imperial project. Over the years, Russia has used different ideologies–Orthodoxy, Communism, Eurasianism–but all with the goal of uniting its disparate subjects. How is the project working out? And what does the Imperial Idea mean for the alt-right? Heimbachian nationalism is great. But will it be tolerated in the Trumpenreich?
AND: Greg is posted up in a Munich beerhall, getting Nostalgic about 1923. What a great city, a great country–too bad it’s shredding at the seams.
Itâ€™s fucking happening Goyim, another jihad in France, a Coup dâ€™etat in Istanbul, and congress dumps the 9-11 reportâ€™s redacted 22 pages.Â Itâ€™s all going out with the trash, because itâ€™s Friday, and the Jews think they can get away with it. But AI is on point and on air with this special episode, featuring George Singh in Washington, DC, and Greg Ritter in some Eastern European shit-hole.
Elin Krantz was a young Swedish woman who was raped and murdered by an Ethiopian named Ephrem Tadele Yohannes. A photo of her contorted body was leaked (probably from the police investigation) and has been floating around on the internet (Editor’s note: No link posted. The reader is invited to do a google image search. The picture is extremely disturbing).
A different woman is featured in a music videoÂ having sex with a black while singing the Swedish national anthem. The clip “blanda upp” is from a ‘comedy’ show named Grotesco. The video promotes race mixing and is intended to mockÂ the Sweden Democrats.
There are so many things to love about this story: the upholding of Rule of Law, the Amnesty butthurt, the refugee’s hilarious initials…Â What I love is thatÂ he managed to do it. As a Syrian refugee, he has all kinds of priority.
Those whose asylum applications are judged… unfounded (ie, your country isÂ not undergoing an actual war)
Those whose asylum applications are found… inadmissible (ie you are already recognized as a refugee by Turkey).
So which one do you think Mssr. M.F. violated? Probably not No. 2… he is, after all, Syrian, or at least claims to be. He may have violated No. 3, or No. 1; skipping filling out his Greek paperwork in hopes of taking the happy trail to Deutschland and succor at the burstingÂ teats of Mutti Merkel.
But there are two other possibilities. Either the Greek Police are being arbitrary assholes (WINNERS!), or M.F. committed a crime.
Greece has a big drug-smuggling problem. As soon as I landed on Lesbos, I was profiled by Greek cops (maybe they knew about my Calabrian connections. ‘Ndrangheta is big in the drug trade). After a quick doggie-sniff and a passport check, I was cleared. But some browner dudes got a more through treatment. I asked one officer if they had a big drug problem, he replied tersely but affirmatively.
But that is all circumstantial. M.F. might have done something worse. It is unlikely that he is being docked for any of the three technical reasons given above, as there are plenty of other people on this island who certainly should be.
This island is bursting with all kinds of Swarthies. From my amateur, stricly pseudo-scientific observations, they fall into four categories:
Pakis (confirmed sightings) / indistinct South Asian Brownies.
very occasional Africans
The Pakis are violating No. 2 of the EU-Turkey agreement. Their country is not at war. The only they haven’t been deported is, likely, that the Greek bureaucracy is overloaded. And no, while US drones strikes suck, they don’t count as war. Your chances of getting Anwar al-Awlakied in PakistanÂ are, assuming the very high-ball estimate ofÂ 965 killed since 2004, 1 in 2.45 million (965 / 13 years = 74.23 per annum. Pakistan’s population is 182.1 million). AfricansÂ have a far better chance of suffering death-by-hippo (1 Billion / 3,000 = 1 in 333,333).
But let’s focus on the Arabs. These people aren’t poor. They are fat and, if not affluent, at least modish. My observations are in line with what The International Business Times reported last year, “Syrian refugees are largely drawn from the countryâ€™s wealthy, professional classes, and they have the clothes and disposable incomes to match. Designer labels, expensive shoes and wads of cash characterize this crowd.” Basically the faggots that benefited most from Asad’s regime and got cold feet as soon as the ISIS badassery started. See for yourselves:
Arabs seem to come in family-groups. But, as we have noted repeatedly, most of the migrants are men. This is true especially of Blacks and Subcontinentals. When HuffPo/Amnesty/Internat’l Rescue Committee says “refugees are half women and children” or “asylum-seekers are mostly Syrian,” what they mean is “people whom the government recognizes as refugees” or “people who actually apply for asylum.” Again, pics:
Yesterday I saw a disgusting scene. An Arab family idling in the shopping district of Mytilene, and a blubbery white woman was cooing over their outsized brood in English. There were 3 or 4 young children (ie, born since the outbreak of the war), a man and two adult women. I’ll let you goys speculate about the relations of all to the others. (Sorry, no pic of this particular outrage, I was cameraless).
The most infuriating part to me was that the husband was not dead in a ditch in Syria. The badass Syrian Arab Army is battling ISIS shabos-goys tooth-and-nail, and this deserterÂ is on holiday. And now I have to pay to support him and his fecundity (indirectly, but you know).
I considered offeringÂ my translation services to glean a little information, but thought better of it. I don’t want the libtards to know there’s a Fascist mole in their Lesbian paradise, at least not yet.
So I don’t know what Mssr. M.F. did or dindu. But I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. And I am sure Amnesty will either ignore the revelation of his mischief, or will excuse it. God, they are so predictable.
One parting shot:
According to Amnesty’s own dildo report:Â “Greece must not return anyone who is at risk of serious human rights violations in Turkey, or of being sent onwards to a place where they face a risk of serious human rights violations”
Doesn’t that mean we have to prevent refugees from being sent toÂ Germany?
“The [German] authoritiesâ€™ failure to effectively investigate alleged human rights violations by police persisted. Hate crimes against refugees, asylum-seekers and migrants increased sharply.”
HAHA YES! I mean… oh that’s terrible. We had better protect the refugees from those meanie Krauts.Â I can see the NYT Â headline already: “White Racism Threatens Refugees. Borders Closed to Protect Minority Rights.”
Hey, if that Talmudic logic shuts down the immivasion , I’ll roll with it. Whatever it takes to throw out the invader and make The West free again.
Europe is crawling with leftist agents. Amnesty International, UNISEF, the Huffington Post, shadows of antifa stalk me in every airport, city square and hostel.
Vince and I had some fun chatting them up a couple times on Scandinavian street-corners. We certainly would make no converts, but we could, for a few minutes at least, spare the public from these charity-mongerers and their pitiful causes. We found one in Copenhagen who, thanks to our valiant attempts to conceal our disinterest, bleated on about some supposed rape victim in an island chain I can neither locate nor spell. â€œAre there not rape victims here,â€ Vince asked. The question was as meaningless to him as his selected cause was to us. Unrestrained by rational prioritizing, universalist morality scatters the soul to the ends of space, rendering its supposed possessor a vortex of non-being. If you know what I mean.
On the way out of Catania I encountered another clot of them. God, how I hate UNISEF–they had stationed their footsoldiers around the airport in an effort to cuck us of more resources. My stomach glowing with nihilism, I snickered, snapped a photo, and went to relieve myself of a couple cups of coffee. On the way out, one chubby harpie stuck her tits out and cornered me. She went on a tirade about helping this billboard picture of an impossibly neotonous brownling. As she blabbed on about her meta-child, it occurred to me that the object of her emotions was bi-dimensional. Perhaps we arenâ€™t so different after all.
Having not followed any of her spiel, I announced in vulgarized Latin that I had seen plenty of the people she was talking about, and most of them had been men– â€œforte, como ioâ€ â€œStrong, like me.â€ I stuck a finger in my chest, glaring at her and half-smirking at her semi-attractive companion. I walked off.
Twice more in the days after, I was put upon by similarly repulsive vessels. When itâ€™s a gay dude, at least itâ€™s a little flattering–he could be getting it with any other homo. But when itâ€™s an ugly woman, it is outright demoralizing. â€œDoes this skank really think she has a chance with me?â€ But I have learned to stifle my ego in the name of the Cause. Girls will talk no matter their girth. So I am not above dangling the prospect, assuming the fattie has something to offer. And, this crusade being a war for information, they sometimes prove themselves useful.
On the flight out, I found out two things. The fattie told me about the US Navy housing refugees in Sicily. Too late to act on that. I also made a caustic remark to a very Italian-looking girl with a Paraguayan passport and an American accent. She played along, and volunteered that she had just been in Greece, traveling with a friend who happened to be a reporter. I kept a straight face and asked if her friend worked for the New York Times. â€œNo the Huffington Post.â€ I did not keep a straight face. But even with my cover blown, I still got some good info out of her.
She had, supposedly, gone with this reporter to Lesbos (pffff…of course) to see two refugee camps (oh wait). They had stayed for a night, and gone out on a boat to get an idea of how the rescue operations are conducted (with meathooks? Amirite?). There were two camps on the island, and one at Athensâ€™ old airport. Man this was too easy. She must have noticed that I was a bit too interested, and only sorta in her, because the conversation did not go much further.
Itâ€™s a miracle I have not been called out for Fash–the haircut, the way I wear my backpack (straps tucked), my laptop background. Rightwingers make the worst spies. Is it any wonder the Third Reich lost the espionage war, matched as they was against the craftiness of the Slav and the Eternal Anglo? We are miserable liars.
But one does not have to be a sneaky Rosenberg to make a good spy. One can be out in the open, totally frank, and still pull it off. James Bond is implicitly right wing. I have found that I have far more to gain by making my intentions and opinions known. Some will help, some will huff, but no one will hamper you (at least so far). The organs of liberal power are too preoccupied generating their own propaganda to fully realize the danger of mine.
Greg takes us on a tour of the Eternal City and Calabria–the Alabama of Italy. The bros compare Italian and Nordic character and habits, and discuss the Afro-Muzziepocalypse. The signs are everywhere. But is there enough awareness of the problem for anything to get done? AI brings you this report from the Front.