Closed Thread
Results 1 to 10 of 10

Thread: Bloodlines -- By FIPS

Hybrid View

  1. #1
    Join Date
    May 2009

    Default Bloodlines -- By FIPS

    Bloodlines -- by FIPS -- Now Showing!!!

    After several months of reading and doing other tasks, the first installment of WEB FIPS of "Bloodlines" is now available for jewr horrified viewing (dis)pleasure.

    Rated "RRR -- Triple "R"" for 'Really Really Racist' -- this serial chapter dystopia predicting the immediate future is not for femnisheviks nor mental children. Extreme viewing discretion is advised.

    Pastor Martin LD Lindstedt, in addition to writing and publishing his own material, has a long history of printing up other promising material from Resistance authors as well. Published with the permission of FIPS, a sometime poster to this forum as well.

    This is not an enjoyable book, but it is one which will make you think. It is a primal scream for White Devils. Niggers and jews and mamzers . . . . for jewrself there is nothing but horror.

    Pastor Martin Luther Dzerzhinsky Lindstedt

    by FIPS

    Table of Contents

    Introduction & Preface

    1898 France & Less Than 100 Years Ago -- the Forgotten Joy of Killing

    2000 -- The White Race Martyred - on 21st Century Altars of Jew-Worship, Negritude, and Faggotry

    2001 ?- Just before His arrest by the Temple Guards . . . .

    March 15, 2002 & 2003 -- A Method to His Madness

    2004 ?- An Informal Formal Lesson Plan for Whitey

    2005 -- On the Third Day . . .

    2005 ?- Left Behind on Death Row

    2006 -- U.N.: Torture, murder, cannibalism, blah, blah, ho ho-hum...

    Last edited by Librarian; 05-28-2009 at 04:23 AM. Reason: Add Links
    I am The Librarian

  2. #2
    Join Date
    May 2009

    Default Introduction & Preface


    BLOODLINES, being a FOUNDATIONAL MYTH OF THE 21ST CENTURY, con-text?d of scenae and scenarios, both sparsely reconstructuralist and deviationalist, yet adhering almost always in programmatic & paradigmatic commitment to discursive recursive-cyclic iconicity and deconstructionism?
    neither, of curse, preemptying the other, by ~ FIPS!

    ?Why do you cry out thus, unless at some vision of horror?

    ?This land reeks of death and dripping gore!

    How so? ?Tis but the odor of sacrifice on the altar of progress!

    ?The stench is like that breath from a tomb, still exuding the watery gas of maggots on fleshly decay?

    ?Home cursed of God! Bear witness unto me,
    ?Woes seen and yet unseen within -
    ?The blood-stained hands of them that smite their kin -
    ?The strangling rope, and, spattered o?er
    ?With human blood, the reeking floor!

    ?For I am persuaded by testimony from those who,
    ?Lamenting, were sacrificed in the womb,
    ?Their flesh roasted and devoured by physicians, their fathers and mothers,
    ?that Henceforth, You are all meat?


    You are trekking, too lightly attired. Suddenly, you slip on a path and tumble downslope, losing your pack and all. When you awaken, things seem to swim about your field of vision for a while. The typically brief but intense afternoon rains begin, and you try to find your way back to shelter. For whatever reason, you find yourself quite lost, are soon soaked.... and then hear voices. You approach an encampment, and call out greetings. The group includes men, women and children, and the men arise and approach to take stock of you. They are not afraid (after all, you are carrying no weapons, and must appear quite soaked and freezing by now). They bid you forward to their fire, in a language you are quite unfamiliar with.

    In physical appearance, you might almost interpret them as Polynesians, yet lighter-skinned and thinner overall ? and with quite another speech-sound. They are dressed in some kind of fur-lined "homespun", very chic (and very warm-looking at that!). You are offered a sort of robe, and sit down. The women urge you closer to the camp fire, and all nod agreement. Try though you might, you can't seem to find any words in common understanding, until you ask for water.

    They seem to understand that, and offer a beaker of pure, refreshing "vasa". The beaker is hand-made crockery, well-decorated with fine geometric designs. Somehow, you feel comfortable, and begin to relax. The women are cooking some kind of stew of meat and veggies. All others sit down in anticipation, and they pass around hand-made (well made, at that!) baskets with more kinds of berries and shelled nuts than you ever knew existed, apparently as a kind of hors d'ouerve. Together with the good water, you find the appetite really beginning to rise, and you wish to stay with these strangers. Suddenly, the word "apvel" is heard, you say apple and are immediately handed a smallish but very flavorful fruit. So, at least you have two words in common!

    Looking around, you realize one very young lady is looking intently at you. She is full-figured, with the pinkest skin and no makeup except for a bit of ochre-red on the cheekbones. She has the fullest head of very loose black curls you have ever seen, and dark eyes. Really pretty, in fact. Relaxing by the campfire, you begin to realize everything these folks have is hand-crafted, including composite wood and stone hammers and axes, bows and arrows. The basketry and pottery, the clothing, all hand-made, and beautifully so. The meal is served on their ware, and delicious simple fare it is at that!

    You can't believe how comfortable you're feeling. Twilight begins, and everyone pulls out some form of art they wish to show their guest. Sophisticated animal paintings on hide, wood, stone, and some kind of ivory carving. Their most artistic pottery, basketry, embroidery and beadware, ... all unimaginably attractive. Others pull out flutes, stringed and percussion instruments you've never seen before, and start singing, with a tone and inflection that floats and seems somehow timeless. One of the elders begins telling some kind of story. Although you don't understand the words, then again you do. You are escorted to one of their tents, again, they insist, the one closest to the fire. It's made of some kind of softened, flexible hide. You are given an undercover, and another robe blanket. You doze off listening to their speech and laughter in the background.

    When you awaken, it is very dark and very quiet. You realize the very young lady has your hand in hers, and that she is looking at you, and that she is smiling. You feel that you are finally... home.


    This is an image of what might have happened if you came unarmed and in need of assistance to an encampment of Europeans?30,000 years ago! It is based on the latest archaeological research. Now, think about the kind of ?welcome? you might be given by non-racial kin. Let?s say?you are transported defenseless to a non-white community not 30,000 years ago, but only 300 years ago. Certainly, these aliens should be far more civilized than 30,000 year old whites! And yet, after careful consideration, don?t you acknowledge that, rather than being greeted, you would quickly be killed and eaten by any typical early 18th Century non-whites?

    The White Man ONCE KNEW from EXPERIENCE what sort of monstrous savagery he would be on the ?receiving end? of should he ever let down his innate racial guard. Consider that ?gentle? and ?noble red man?, ?in tune with all things? - whom ?we so victimized?:

    In 1779, Mohawks captured 16-year twin sisters Maria and Christina Manheim from their home in Pennsylvania. The band who captured the twins thought it would ?cause? conflict among their owners when they were turned into slaves, they looked so much alike, so the chiefs decided the girls should he destroyed. The Red Niggers sharpened a supply of pine splin?ters about 5 inches long, then dipped the blunt ends in turpentine. The twins were stripped naked, hung from a sapling by their hands tied together, then had more than 600 splinters hammered into their bodies from their knees to their shoulders. Each of the splinters was set on fire. It was al?most 3 hours before they died. By that time they had lost ?almost every resemblance of the human form?.

    In 1757, drunk Indians ?killed one of the (British) prisoners, put him into the kettle, and forced his wretched countrymen to eat of him.? Another witness saw the Indians ?compel mothers to eat the flesh of their children.? The Red Niggers were at ALL times motivated only by brutal serial killer sex murder lust and wantonness. Pregnant women were ripped open and their babies thus ?born? thrown into flames or stewpots.

    Near the close of 1763, the ?Great? Chief Pontiac invited several prominent French settlers to a celebration feast. When it was over, he asked one of the guests how he liked the very good young beef. Pontiac said, ?Come, I will show you what you have eaten.? Whereupon he opened a sack and held up by the hair the still bloody head of a British soldier, and added with a wide grin: ?There is the young beef!? [Here it should be noted that in the late 20th Century, the self-styled ?Emperor Bokassa I? of the ?Central Africa Empire? did exactly the same thing ? again to the French?but told them it was ?young lamb? saut?ed in its own pulverized brains!]?

    ?They begin at the extremity of his body, and, gradually, approach the more vital parts. One pries and tears his nails by the roots, one by one; an?other takes a finger into his mouth, and chews off the flesh with his teeth; a third thrusts a finger into the bowl of a ?peace? pipe, which he smokes like tobacco; then they pound his toes and fingers to pieces between two stones; when tears are discovered, hot coals are applied under his eyes with the statement that his face was wet and would be dried for him.

    They cut circles about the fleshy parts of his limbs, and try to pull the skin and flesh away from the bones; red hot irons cut, burn, squeeze, tear and pull off his flesh; bit by bit, they devour with greediness pieces of torn and broiled meat, smearing their faces with the burnt fat. When they have thus torn off the flesh, they pry loose and twist the bare nerves and tendons, tearing and snapping them, whilst others are employed in pulling, twisting and extending his limbs in every way that can increase the torment, until the arms are, one by one, torn off. This continues five or six hours; and sometimes days together. They frequently unbind him, to give a breathing to their fury, to think what new torments they shall inflict, and to refresh the strength of the sufferer. They then run sharp reeds into every part of his body; drag out his teeth with pincers, rip off the eyelids and finally, slowly tear out the eyes, one at a time, by the roots. After having mutilated his face in such a manner as to carry nothing human in it; after having peeled the skin from the head, and heaped red hot coals or boiling water over it, they will free him to wander about the camp blind and armless, prodded this way and that until finally, prodded to a huge kettle, he is lifted with huge regales of laughter and thrust in feet first, to cook down?Of the heads and their contents they will make a form of Indian pudding.?

    ?They made the prisoner sing and dance for some time, while six gun barrels were heating red hot in the Fire; after which they began to burn the soles of the feet until the bones appeared, and they continued burning him by slow degrees up to his privates?This barbarity they continued about six hours?They cut off his thumbs and offer?d them him to eat, pluck?d off all of his nails, and then stuck splinters of pine all over his body, and put fire to them?At last they ran two gun barrels, one after the other, red hot up his fundament, upon which he expired by the Grace of God? ? Benjamin Franklin

    Mutilation was in fact practiced out of timeless tradition and racial habit. It was not uncommon for a Cheyenne warrior to cut off the arms of an enemy and preserve the severed limbs as trophies. Strangers captured by the Cheyenne faced a gruesome fate. Captives were stripped and spread-eagled over anthills, their hands and feet lashed to pegs driven deep into the ground. There they were abandoned, to go blind from staring at the sun, insane from hunger and thirst, and eaten by ants and wild animals. It was then considered ?mercy? to burn them alive.

    One Cheyenne brave recalled the killing of an old man. ?We cut off his hands, his feet?We ripped open his breast, breaking the ribs away, and opened his belly. I stood there and looked at his beating heart and quivering liver?We stayed there until there was nothing left but ashes, having crushed his burnt bones.?

    Soldiers found after the quite typical Indian massacre ?had strips of skin cut out of the body, noses and other members cut off?iron nails thrust through the testicles into the ground, pinning them?here a penis cut off and stuffed in the mouth....there cookfires built over stomachs, or a body ripped open, with a coffee pot and cup filled with blood, and obviously drunk from?heads with the eyes pulled out by fists would be ?arranged? to ?stare? at one another or would-be rescuers. Many had arms, legs and noses twisted until actually wrenched off. Many had their flesh cut off in strips the entire length of their bod?ies.

    As for the legend that Custer was ?untouched? as ?a suicide?, he was in fact untouched to the extent of an arrow rammed up the penis, and arrow shafts hammered into each of his ears?.

    A favored Indian yuck was to cut a body in gashes, fill them with powder, then set fire to the end of each. Indians would often dance with the naked headless body or lower half of a white woman, sawn through. Sexual violation would then follow, cheered on from the sidelines. Pubic area scalps ripped off the bodies of shrieking white women and teenagers shaking with pain would be worn after ?drying? either as merkins over their own pubes?
    or as eye-patches. Sometimes they would hack away all of the upper torso from around the backbone without removing either it or the head atop, tie the detached upper torso to the nearest horizontal branch by the fingers in either a ?pull-up? or ?chin(less) up? position, and rig the lower torso, protruding backbone, and head ?sitting up?-for relatives to find thus. White babies, when not killed immediately, were often taken along on the trail, and then hung from broken tree branches rammed deeply into their lower jaws, so that anyone following them would be able to join in on the joke.

    When the Red Nigger was ?exhausted? by his ?sport?, he might choke the victim to death by cramming sand or ramming stones down his throat. [Again, it is fascinating to noted that this was again exactly how ?Sergeant Sammy Doe? of the Liberian Presidential Bodyguard Unit treated his own leader, before immediately thereafter promoting himself to General of the Army.]

    When settlers turned to Arizona after the Civil War, they confronted the Apache, who were a ferocious tribe. The Apache captured white women, then literally tore their bodies apart. Prisoners were hung head down over small fires, their uncontrolled jackknifing giving amusement to the Apache for hours while the prisoner?s brain slowly roasted into a mush until death. Eyes torn out would be laid on nearby rocks; chins hewn off; teeth chopped out; brains taken out and placed on rocks with other members of the body; entrails taken out and wound around branches; feet smashed by cobbles; arms twisted out of sockets and then?off; private parts severed and placed in the eye sockets, ears, and mouth; and muscles of calves, thighs, stomach, breast, back, arms, and cheeks sawn out.

    After gang-raping and murdering one woman they found hanging the wash to dry, they found one white infant in a cradle in the cabin, and put the baby in the oven with the day?s bread?Women and children not killed immediately were often tortured to death later that same day, for blood sport. The Red Niggers would bet one another on screams, fainting, crying, begging, madness, and death. The scalps of women and girls with long red or blond hair were especially prized, being worn on the belt, and were highly valued when offered as collateral on the gambling floor.

    Families were burned alive in their cabins, children crucified, girls nailed to doors - first backwards and then forward, raped by dozens of ?braves?, then hacked to pieces while ?standing?, while babies were dis?membered by ripping and their limbs flung in the mother?s face.

    One Chief said to a war party in front of captives from an earlier assault: ?War now. War forever. War upon the living. War upon the dead; dig up their corpses from the grave; our country must give no rest even to a white man?s bones.?

    Don?t ya hate the Red Man now, grandfather??

    Let?s try one final approach to reality. You are set down in a black ?hood? somewhere in the world, not 30,000 years ago, nor even 300 years ago, but only some 300 seconds ago! Will you be welcomed by your oh-so-civilised black brethren , or are you far more likely to be tortured to death amid general rejoicing, glee, dancing and drunkenness? Come on, white fool! Your ancestors from 3,000 generations ago would be better neighbors than the common jig you find on the street only 30 minutes travel time away?

    And if I was a pagan living without any sin I was aware of in a thick beech forest in a clearing near year-round running water or perhaps a beaver pond, subsisting with my wife and children on game, beechnuts, our pear orchard fruit, mallow, roots, mustard, marsh plants, berries and mushrooms as my ancestors had done since time immemorial, would we all still "need" (let alone the diversity of ?modernity?) the sacrifice of some Savior centuries and thousands of miles away? Never having stolen, nor cheated, nor killed but for food? Never having broken any oath sworn on my father's maul or axe? Never having worshipped aught but the forest, breeze, soil, running water, and the milky way in the sky? Would I or they need any-thing else? And isn?t our only Sin NOT living in such a place, of our own, and God?s, making?

    Time itself calls to you, calling again and anew for (horror!) white lands flourishing with sustainable uses, natural places for wildlife (and our souls) to forever be protected, purity of air, water and soil, unity of neighborhoods, real social justice for the majority, eternal pride in and respect for the awesome accomplishments of our ancestors, and finding truth in beauty and beauty in truth. How dare anyone stand in the way of such real human progress!

    And yet they do. They stand unashamedly for melding the good with the evil, the high unto the low, the heavenly into the foul, and for a future of social integration at the point of some Federal agent?s gun. Will we ever be go home again?
    I am The Librarian

  3. #3
    Join Date
    May 2009

    Default 1898 France & Less Than 100 Years Ago

    1898 France

    The state, falling into Jewified decadence, decaying from within, squeezed dry of soul, was pulled this way and that by the puppetmaster, while the nation was facing a war to the death with them. Our ancestors have demonstrated the physical and spiritual fertility of our race?Deep down all the non-Judaized among us still have the deliberate valor, courageous pride, and analytical good sense, that is, the virtues of the original race in us today?What we desire is to rekindle our old spirit as a race, our natural character?

    A nation is an expanded family that has developed normally from a territorial zone in harmony with its temperament. What constitutes the nation is first of all our national territory, which has its special conformity, its soil, its flora, its fauna, its flowers?mountains and valleys, streams and rivers, its very atmosphere?A set of customs, practices and mores constitutes the harmonious natural law common to all truly of this land. All this glorious and precious patrimony is today compromised and tomorrow threatened with destruction by the corrupt, perverted, chaotic, inchoate, and forever ?mysterious? minds of the nomadic wanderlust-souled Jews?We are their prisoners, they are our scourge, stabbing and strangling us from behind, our blight and cancer, our national leprosy, arrogant maggots at the feast of the dead, buzzards that batten down into their entrails, putrid gangrene, vampires after the last drop of our racial blood, and vermin in the gut of the worst kind?

    The Jewish question is and always will be one of race. On one hand we have men of the land, with their religion based on the admiration and study of nature, their social science based on equity and justice, their sense of family, respect for the work of our ancestors, the worship of heroes, possessed of a sacred love of hearth and home, feelings of honor, and the ultimate truth-telling of laboring with one?s own hands On the other are the Jews with their dark and anarchical thoughts, their extreme materialism, and their rapacity, destroying the cult of the native land, the dignity of work, respect for the family and for ancestral traditions, vipers, asps that inject the most lethal venom into our entrails, rats that gnaw into the body politic and the national soul, devouring both, only to shit them out, toads that stink up our earth with their poisoned spittle.

    This accursed syndicate of woe, vile and shady, spins its web of deceit, represses the nation while distracting, diverting and perverting its people, as pimps of those who have sold their souls to the Devil, pornographers, and would-be national whoremasters?There is the same difference in quality of soul between this Jew and the Aryan, with our noble passion for glory and the ideal, as between the Aryan and the lumpen Chinee or the savage Nigger. Do you really want to end up the way Poland has? No, then excrete the Jews! What is in the blood and soul does not change?In this race war, the Jews must all be driven off into the night.

    Our young people, national republican, national democrat, and national socialist, march and sing with all their hearts old songs with new words to poison the Jews?They shout ?Hatred grows with each step?When will we finally arrest the Jews en masse and put them safely away??We say drown the Jews with their filth in the sewers!?They are ours now??They burn the publications of the enemy, boycott their stores and shops, and bar the way to others?They break all the windows in their shops and synagogues, and take little tours through each?They call for the Jews (even three generations from Jewish racial purity) to be barred from elective office, public service and public education, and demand ?a good bit of confiscation?Never buy from a Jew?Throw off your chains and no longer be their slaves?Drive the parasite Jew from the host nation?deported to the east, or perhaps to a tropical colonial ?paradise?.

    ?Heroic brawls take place at every public meeting, as they challenge the rest of us to combat the Jewish presence and battle the Jewish race relentlessly?They thus rediscover the moral sense of their own traditions, rooted in one?s own soil?They cry for the nation to be resurrected from the dead, and the peoples? minds to be remolded as of old to fit the national spirit?

    ?In 20 years time the Jews will wring the neck of the nation, if we don?t cut theirs within10. Think of your children, your families, and their enslavement, then think again of the nation?and act. Your good blood does not lie. The cursed race of the Jews must be exterminated. There are many noble means to act?the Jews should beware of being scalded or steamed to death?We have enough lampposts and enough of rope?enough ponds they could drown in, and gold and silver will not stop lead?Yet there is a difference between letting the Jews take control of your lives, and murdering them on the spot like mad dogs?We war not only against the Jews but even more so against the Jewish ?spirit?. Death to the social power of the Jews, and to their state within a state. We yet do not want a general massacre and extermination of all the Jews, merely of the Jewish peril to the nation. The Jews, as people, may merely be excluded. And yet it is just as clearly time to take up the final challenge, and end it all, one way or the other?

    Onward, children of the nation ? the day of vengeance has arrived! Against you and us the obscene banner of Yiddischry has been raised. Tremble, Yids who would murder the fatherland! You will finally get your reward, when every one is a soldier against you! We?ll begin to rummage through the shitpile that is Jewry, and dispose of it. If we face asphyxiation from the hideous stench, others will come to relieve us for a while and allow us to breathe a little good fresh air before returning to the sacred task at hand. And if our young heroes should fall, the nation will produce new ones to replace them, to destroy you. Sacred love of the nation leads and strengthens the might of our vengeful arms. We pray to the Living God to deliver us from the Jews. The sons of Judas, traitors all, will pale upon seeing the Leader of Tomorrow. Freedom, o cherished freedom! May all the dying Jews know with their last breath God?s victory and our triumph over them?We must at all cost continue the work cleansing ourselves of the Jews. The day will come when all these have disappeared, as we will simply kill them. We will not pardon any, and may spare no more than those of us spared entire from their terror?It pleased them to fight to the death of all of us or all of them. Yet we will stop and pause for a memorial, when the Yids have all been hanged?and not regret spilling their blood for our sakes. Long live the slaughterers of the Jews!

    Less than 100 Years ago

    The Forgotten . . . . . Joys of Murder

    Increasingly, we in defenseless, suicidal white Amereeka, seem to have forgotten the thrill and sheer joy our antecedents felt at butchering a well-defined enemy. "Once upon a time"...we volunteered for armed service to a REAL nation! - in which the essence of such service was to kill. Far from genocidal killing then being "the realm of vicious psychopaths", it was ordinary, God-fearing people of the finest intentions who found themselves quite capable of mass murder for the highest, holiest, and most irreproachable reasons, including EVEN those who "found a joy through stalking human prey...which more than made up for incessant fighting and weariness indescribable", when one of their bullets or grenades would be followed by "a few groans and then silence".

    At least one white woman in Vietnam repeatedly went out on successful night sniper patrols when her Special Forces boyfriend begged off, finally saying "I know exactly who I am".

    We USED to be proud of narratives of women who had been captured by the Red Nigger Indians turning around once their captors were asleep and hatcheting entire Indian "families" to death.

    As for men in vengeance, they once "often delighted in giving death and unrestrained slaughter", their "killings were enthusiastic, the massacres frankly merry", and when one cried guiltily that he "had become a murderer", his WIFE said "and you've also become a man"! The 6 foot 2+, 240 lb. red-bearded, blue-eyed ?mountain? man Jeremiah Johnson was a God in terms in racial understanding. He killed hundreds of red niggers by kicking them in the balls to death, punching them in the throats, or poisoning them. He also killed within minutes the only black he ever met, and resigned from the Civil War when they asked him not only to scout trails?but to kill white men.

    Wartime instructors insisted the very purpose of male life in defense of one's nation was to kill cleanly, kill quickly, kill efficiently ("Never cease to think how you can best kill the enemy...If necessary, stomp right between his eyes and push the nose right into his brain. Or stomp on the ribcage, in order to push splinters into the lungs, and THEN stomp on his heart to smash it...for mercy's sake").

    All knew that "killing" was murder (see the constant war diary entries of having "been murdering all week!"), and often reveled in that powerful knowledge. Time and time again we read of the joy of killing.

    "I sought out this new religion of Blood and Fire, the Blood that cleanses, the Fire that energizes." In Britain, training included splashing warm blood in the face, with men encouraged to "smear it about" and "scent it".

    Men cherished the hopes of bayoneting someone..."How they hungered for the wild exultation of the pursuit of prey and the heavenly joy of driving "home" deeply the blade, crunching through manrib-bone, and twisting it to hear either deep bubbling groans or sobbing little screams and to FEEL jets of blood spouting out amidst the bodily shaking, so that one's blade would not only be stained but bejeweled with bits of hair or flesh...I would have driven my bayonet into the throat or eye without the slightest hesitation and my conscience would not have bothered me in the least"...

    As a ripper, this was the kind of fighting that rejoiced the hearts of pirates. It was "beautiful, awesome work", "joy unspeakable", "hot exhilarating butchery", "murder to weep over with joy"... and "gorgeously satisfying". How far would one go for these "good feelings"?...To the point of willingness to see absolute hatred in eyes that you have stilled forever, and then simply to move on to your next murder...

    The very essence of unit morale in war was the degree to which its potential fears had been converted into murderous hatred, and preparations for serial murder. The side that hated the most would be victorious.

    Snipers also received immense satisfaction from their jobs, and were highly motivated killers engaged in a labour of love..."I had a feeling of the essential rightness of both my stalking AND my murder of man-animals that might kill me otherwise...To use your own skill, single-handed, against the enemy; It could be murder most foul, AND most delightful"...

    Bodily "trophies of the hunt" were also inherently approved of at "killer-level"...Indeed, a necklace of ears in Nam could be called love beads...One ack-ack gunner from WWII remembered how those on his ship had partaken of fresh-dead Japs..."Parts of destroyed suicide planes were scattered all over the ship. During a little lull in the action, we would go on bugeye hunts...We didn't have to go far; the deck near my mount was covered with guts, brains, torn tongues, scalps, hearts, arms, etc., from dead Japs. Someone would either have to scrape them off, or paint over them. One scalp had black hair, cut very short, and the color of the skin was real Japanese yellow...

    I put a tongue with deep bucktooth marks in it on a pie plate. It was very big and long, with part of the tonsils and throat still attached. Otherwise, it looked like something you'd buy in the market...One of the Marines later told me he'd found the best way to interrogate a Jap prisoner was to slap him in the face with the hand on a severed Nip forearm"...

    As for THEM, the Japanese were every bit as proudly racist as Americans once were. While it is fairly well-known that the Japanese baked, broiled, fried and crucified, beat, whipped, frothed, and then ate white westerners (see ?Prisoners of the Japanese?), it is less well-known that they did the same things to others of the East Asian race. Koreans, in particular, were prized for medical experimentation because, though "not of the Yamato race", they were as close as these Jap versions of St. Mengele were going to get, with actual members of the Yamato race being holy things.

    Even in the first months of the war, Japanese OFFICERS ordered surgical teams to sever white Aussie prisoners' genitals, staunch the bleeding so they would not die of that, and sew the mens? cocks and ballsacks into their mouths and over their nostrils, so they would asphyxiate "on themselves". Virtually no prisoners were taken by the Australians during World War II thereafter.

    "Guadalcanal Diary" includes the following entry: "Everywhere one turned there were piles of bodies; here one with a backbone visible from the front, the rest of the flesh peeled up over the head like an artichoke; there a charred head, hairless but still equipped with blackened eyeballs; pink, blue, yellow entrails drooping (the color depending on the time of day, it seemed); a fresh red bullet-hole through the eye here; one there still wearing his tortoise shell glasses over buck teeth, lying on his back, with his chest a growing and constantly changing mess o' ground meat...There was no horror to these things." There was only Glory.

    Wholesale slaughter of large numbers of the enemy, men, women AND children, might be "a godly affair of great and seductive power", and "full of spiritual resonance", with some preferring the silent omnipotence of napalm, others the showy exhuberance of white phosphorus, with its fulsome elegance, wreathing a target in intense and billowing smoke, and throwing out glowing red comets trailing brilliant white plumes...

    Other forms of killing were "closer to the heart" - "a shot should never be fired if your enemy can be disposed of by the blade, the strangling wire, or a shovel to the head...for the demoralizing effect is great when one is found thus mutilated." Flamethrowing was "most intimate"...After all, human warmth was essential to the offensive spirit, and that is what murder in defense of your own is all about.

    The link between savagery and heroism is unmistakeable, with no hero more feared than the fanatical fighting man imbued with ruthless and impelling racial, political or religious ideals. Asked to comment on the My Lai village depopulation project, one officer up the line in command said: "A very good tactic; if you scare people enough they will keep away from you." Patton said: "We will get the name of killers, and killers are immortal".

    Psychologists have LONG recognized that more men break down in any theater of war because they are NOT allowed to kill than those "who broke under the strain of killing itself". It is "the sensitive individual who cannot develop a pleasure in killing (who) quickly develops fear, from which surrender or his own death is the only escape." Those quite "unable to kill...were (and are) men who lacked the ability to understand complex ideas, such as patriotism, appreciation of the alternative to winning a war, tradition, (were) psychologically inadequate ineffectives, and narcissistic poseurs concerned only with self-pleasuring"...

    There is then only ONE moral question involved with killing..."If the only way to adequately protect one of our babies is to kill theirs, then it is OUR duty, however repugnant, to accomplish this." Men who expressed reservations about killing "innocents" always had to be reminded that they were doing so out of allegiance to the still higher moral authority of their OWN group's long-term survival. "You may discover extreme danger in some apparent innocent, when God has educated your spiritual sights". Or in the words of a former military chaplain: "If one has blown away women and children but experiences no unpleasant feelings about it, then there is no issue left to resolve."

    Training one to kill, to murder and then sleep like a child to awaken refreshed, thinking "what a glorious morn to sink a knife to the hilt in someone's belly"...starting all over again with a new wind of righteous ice-hatred, is essentially just remembering that killing, in the end, is part of Everyman's natural inheritance"...

    The real problem for our vets returned from Nam perhaps was in NOT responding to catcalls 'bout "whether they enjoyed killing babies", by saying: "Indeed, I enjoyed it a great deal!".
    I am The Librarian

  4. #4
    Join Date
    May 2009

    Default 2000 - The White Race Martyred

    2000 - The White Race Martyred --
    On 21st Century Altars of Jew-Worship, Negritude, and Faggotry

    There are filthy brown clouds dimming the White-hot Sun God in the skies,
    brave Helios and his steeds needs must fear an end.
    Your beloved grandancestors, ancient, dreaming of the Forest and the Glade,
    are shocked no doubt to see you Otherside -
    now it is for you, my Dead Race, to grant the favor of stories tragic in their telling...
    "Deep within a frozen wasteland of shit
    filling the spirit of hoomanity,
    brownblack, redyelloworange and "chosen" murderers
    smashed and shat upon the souls of every white friend, peer, and fellow
    simply because they feared --
    our spirit, our being, and our love
    in Race eternal.
    We were, we are...and...will be (again?)
    The Universe's brilliant beams.
    Now we have precious little time and twilight is falling on our souls
    as Despair makes his calling.
    In darkness it creeps in on mist-y shades of niggerous night,
    casting horrid shadows over love's shining.
    We keep on walking into Non-existence.
    So many are happy creatures of the loneliness,
    dying quietly in well-moneyed latter-day dreams.
    We stand on the brink of an abyss, a desert, the edge of never-ending pain.
    We don't even know enough to say our last farewells,
    Though we are sentenced to be shot,
    or buried alive to die.
    At the "beginning" of a "new" millenium,
    On the way from hell to hell,
    Some still carry the Love of centuries,
    Inside our hearts,
    Where the sunset still burns.
    Yet, can we remain white covered with our own ardent blood?
    How many times today will a white child be born,
    not knowing the life they'll face?

    Some will wonder o'er it, take long walks through the empty sands
    thinking they are held in God's protecting hands.
    Some will cry about it,
    awake at night bleakly watching the walls
    and die a bit remembering how you left us one beautiful Fall.
    Race, was your brightness
    too much for this world?
    Or goodness, too?

    That the powers of darkness in the creatures of the night did swell up red and black, bloated like weeks-old death,
    and with brutality unimaginable,
    seek to snuff out?
    your brilliant light.
    And all for "equality".
    On the last day of sun in winter's depth,
    Suddenly I'd remember the Race
    and be moved to tears to raise Him from the dead,
    or die with Him.
    "No!", Grandfather shakes me awake!
    "Have only hate,
    for the monsters
    who do exactly what they must,
    in their eternal nature of suffocation!"
    But, what of the silent,
    who voice not at all,
    'cause the fear has them?
    "You must make them learn to scream again!"
    A defender's shout.
    Feed the Hate, whilst
    others breed the Lies.
    Oh, yes, Christ would weep,
    but that will NOT stop THEM from shitting you to Hell!
    You can ONLY spin the planet backwards, a mad thing!
    by blinding white passengers with Healthy Hatred.
    Look, there is still a royal blue sky!
    And warmth remaining in the year's life.
    Today above the last flower fields,
    a thousand voices sing raceworth;
    And you need NEVER travel alone again that road at night!
    Ask no mercy, grant none at all.
    At night hunt in small wild packs, befriended by the noble silvery frost moon.
    The yellowing year,
    the bitter constraint,
    skin-parching wind,
    even the remorseless coming of winter
    brings occasion
    in the woods and caves,
    for the hungry to look up, and
    scent out blood.
    Yes! We should have known it sooner.
    We should have cried, "Don't wait!"
    To all loved!
    NOW, do not stand at my grave and weep
    I am not there, I do not sleep
    I am the silent, soft winds that blow
    I am the gliss on new fallen snow
    I am the Eagle in a high Freedom Flight
    I am the star that lights up your wolf eyes.
    I want you to hate and be pure in its close embrace.
    It will warm you
    That, and fresh blood in the night.
    I will then laugh,
    dance with joy.
    my soul,
    re-filled, sated,
    Heal thyself and
    heal me.
    And for all
    who love
    men who
    love their own
    God's grace will be expressed
    in their every action.
    Yes, we've lost
    sons, daughters,
    brothers and sisters,
    fathers, even mothers!
    In racelove,
    We mourn,
    and come
    in rage.
    wild, intoxicated with blood in the snout!
    Interdependent on the others,
    no longer neurotically, necrotically isolated!
    Self-expressive with cruelty,
    and rugged of spirit with violence in intent!
    What subtle
    Morbidities will then be bulletblastblown
    Across the fields,
    everlasting in their own demondust.

    What stinking "divinities" will we
    plant with the new soil, to remain
    in winter a perennial whorefrost?
    What livid indignities
    were suffered upon
    our Racial body, echoing,
    like the cries of
    a slain eagle
    faded across
    the canyons in
    gasping whispers?
    But the slayerjew's
    rancid secrets,
    fetid truths can yet be expelled
    from consciousness,
    today imprinted underleaf
    on the drunken "culture", resting on its "laurels"
    on a bed of incestuous lies,
    a pile of shit,
    season by season,
    it "progresses" unto Death and self-sodomy.
    If necessary we must kill the seasons,
    and plant at all times, even through caustic ground,
    unyielding, thick or acrid,
    if only to bury the Things!
    Be generously hateful
    to the putrid.
    Savage sons
    you may yet win
    the day on a splitskull,
    and slaughter their
    foul winds back into oblivious vermin
    Whose feasts would otherwise be
    your mother's blood
    and your father's bone.

    We am not alone though many
    have turned and gone away,
    The golden trees have lifted up
    your sweet racesoul to the sun,
    And every power we possess
    needs simply be the re-discover'd land!
    To undo what's been done with Winter's grip
    which deeply holds
    the hearts of many men.
    The death dealt by the dead is powerless itself amidst
    the rise of Race's Spring again!
    And each time flowers bloom with
    white-all-color living brilliance on display,
    We will never be alone!
    Did the trees writhe for you, White Race,
    were not the stars ashamed?
    Sometimes it seems like the darkness will never turn.
    the struggle never be won.
    That's when you call upon your demons, and go mad with hatred.

    Sons and daughters
    In your time
    do not wait
    to be liberated
    on this land
    It is yours to reap
    and benefit
    And to bury
    your lowing "brethren".
    Then, only then,
    golden youth, may you
    rest beside the stillwater,
    knowing we will be
    For years the battle
    will roaring render on,
    for us the darkness
    still encroaches.
    Pray that your light,
    God's light,
    might shine fierce over and
    until all the pitch and filth
    is finally banished
    and racelight eternal
    embraces us.
    Then with rejoicing
    we will be joined with you,
    Grandparents and all,
    and see once again
    the brightness of your smiles.
    I hear the mighty chorus of dear ones gone before:
    Light a match and burn the face off a devil, yid cherti!
    Mark the boundaries of the world with rivers of their blood
    And unite the race as one.
    Open the haters' eyes with steel
    And remember for our death they...lusted.
    Who has learned to truly love their race,
    knows both the shadows and the sunlight,
    And a song lost in the wind.
    yet keeps summer in their heart...
    Who grasps the gift of honor fought
    In some deserted, barren spot?
    Step forward, hero...survivor.
    carver of death
    bloodlord of war
    agent of God's destruction
    hear my shriek
    focus my rage
    purify my hatred
    narrow my passion
    point my spear
    'gainst all the brood
    of those who murder senselessly
    the only Race worth its weight in wisdom;
    those who destroy claiming "to create"!
    who tear the singers from the dance
    and the dancers from the play
    who wouldst spatter upon the ancient cycles
    ...yet who "create" only cancer.
    I call down the purified rage of my people
    and the backlash of torture
    to burn their eyes away
    from the psyche of real humankind.
    May my earth-black and fire-red emotions
    of rage and death
    blast away the stagnant undergrowth
    in which choking weeds take tangled root,
    and crack open the dormant seedlings
    of real Truth and Justice.
    We will make their skulls into communion chalices
    and use their bones for candlesticks,
    with executioners' eyes and garrote hands,
    and a smile knowing He is finally avenged.
    The rats scurry;
    watching with unlidded terrified eye,
    they know now what you are capable of, white monster!
    Today beautiful little creatures will come
    to sniff the decaying spongy mess of your societal rot.
    And I laugh at seeing them eat of you.
    HATE be the Sun that warms
    our souls, bring back the light
    to darkened rooms of indifference,
    pull back the shades and fling open the windows,
    freshen the air--let the light prevail--
    be the heat that ignites our hearts white hot.
    Stoke the flame
    of outrage.
    Consume that part of us lost, and
    Weld it anew.
    All of you, white men and women!
    The Race is forever your child, your son, your own!
    Let every fear be waning, lift up your eyes forlorn,
    the Hammer's strike is calling,
    as it sings the sky back to Godly blue.
    Eternal Hate reigning, and eternal life re-born!
    So listen to the sad songs and cry for ten seconds more.
    Then prepare to celebrate possible new revolutions
    emerging from the ashes of lost dreams
    burn with love and fury crushed terribly in one,
    breath sucked back into throat to cry that last cry,
    ...and kill.
    Think of them burning, and then...
    Bury them all where
    Vast and cold,
    Fields once flowerful, calmly lie,
    under our control again,
    ...seasonably White with snow.
    I am The Librarian

  5. #5
    Join Date
    May 2009

    Default 2001 ? Just before His arrest by the Temple Guards . . . .

    2001 ? Just before His arrest by the Temple Guards . . . .

    In late 2001, just before His arrest and disappearance for ostensible racistreason, Grant Curtis issued one last declaration on the revolution:

    ?We are accused of murder; in fact we are totally guilty of such murder, all in pre-emptive self-defense. Consider that THEY have been murdering us for decades now, with:

    A. Murders of over a million whites by free-range non-whites in street crime that "authorities" say "has nothing to do with hate crime" (such a statement is itself cause to kill);

    B. Murders of the spirit of tens of millions of white victims of non-white street crime that "little can be done about" (another statement meriting the death sentence);

    C. Murders of the memory of hundreds of millions of white ancestors, by public school and jewsmedia "ejewcation" that my and your grandparents were, without exception, evil racist bastids morally inferior to the most foul street animal blue-gum buck -- because they would not give said niggers, fag child molesters, etc., free reign over the nation!.....and finally,

    D. Murders of billions from future white generations that will be murdered in the streets of our inner shitties and integrated-by-court-order schools and neighborhoods; aborted; forever unborn because of phony guilt installed in white minds by the jewsmedia and pubic ejewcation; and/or mongrelized out of existence by the hypnotic MTV suggestion that only whiggers will be cool enough to be allowed into the dark future, while whites really should hate themselves in any event for being white and "oppressin'" the brown turds of this world to such an extent . . . .that they themselves come to believe the white race should not continue.

    It is absolutely essential for the Jew World Odor that all future white generations from the earliest age be Jew-drugged, Jew-loving, Jewsmedia-mind-f?ed and, most important of all, Jew-obeying into believing that NONE OF THE TRUTH IS TRUE?.Because THAT is what ?social integration? is really about. Social integration is that future urban shitpot filled to overflowing with the waste of every ?human type? on earth, never flushed, in which our young people will be expected to ?work together?. In such a pile o? shit, most will believe God has abandoned them, and lose their faith. Most will beg (with all their $) the Jew psychiatrist, psychologist, counselor, lawyer, politician, and media-whore for a ?helping hand? - or the slightest diversion from the squalor of a cultural wasteland covered with dog-shit ?.and thus lose their souls?

    Is there help beyond Hope for the white man, woman and child? Not in any aboveground means I can imagine being allowed to exist and persist in the future?I believe one man with brand new clothes and hat over a skin diving suit, new mass market Targe?t steak knives and a bag of sweepings from a barber shop he himself never frequents might accomplish more than any organization, legal or otherwise, that would start up today?

    Claim the same proud place in history where your ancestors once stood! First, put on a new of quiet placid cunning, in full court preparation for that future face of wild, hate-filled, blood-soaked triumph (Imagine during the hunt scenting the clammy, terrified skin of your real enemies through the snout!)...

    YOU will decide IN ALL CARE when to unleash the torrent of bitter cravings for revenge...and be cleansed in spirit by bathing in showers of THEIR blood! (hopefully while wearing fullbody plastic sheathing, of course!). No more alienation, fragmentation, nor "de-construction"...only the indescribable rapture and harmonious euphoria...of breathing in deep fresh mudblood...Grind them alive, or strain "industrially".

    ONLY with such a radical approach can YOU assure that the white race will even exist in 500 years, essentially because you shall make THEM choose between living life in fear or living life by design physically separate from us. Learn from our own RECENT past. Let them know you are already smelling them out. Make 'em terrified! Be a warrior. BE...a terrorist.

    Our job now? MAXIMUM violence, hate, and dehumanization of the enemy. Complete encouragement of unlimited atrocities. Speak with ALL the bestial savagery and in-humanity that characterized the Israelite taking of the Promised Land from its occupants.

    Particularly dehumanize the Jews, who regard themselves as Seraphic Beings. Make jokes about eating their children babyqued in gas ovens. There is after all NOTHING a mind-fuck Jew "reprogrammer" would NOT do to convince white Christians that they are scum, WANT to be scum, and should sexually enjoy wallowing in the filth until they die of old age, WITHOUT white progeny?WE must be seen as SO violent, with such complete and utter disregard for those we identify as our enemies (vermin, vampires, utter filth and parasites that they are), that we must finally be left alone.

    These then are the "skills" I wish to see our best and brightest pursue, as lone wolves in sheeple clothing and snakes in the grass, if need be. Calmly look into the eyes of your victims when the time comes, silently watch them still, and move the future.

    You must turn those baby blues, hazelbells, luscious green or fine brown eyes set in a graceful white face to your advantage, smiling and wise when you must "fit in", but letting the enemy see only shark or doll-eyes when they finally realize they are to die badly?

    What does even this 21st century ?society, culture, and psychology? teach us? -

    1) To be true to one?s self, and follow each day?s passions;
    2) To acknowledge your human frailties, and let your heart lead on;
    3) To honor your feelings, and show that you care; and
    4) To let your soaring spirit carry you to evermore incredible places!

    But doesn?t this describe ANY truly committed white soldier, killing his race?s enemies, as much as ANYONE else?

    White revolutionaries need to be "stakeholders" in the old sense: pounding it mercilessly into the chest of every race-sucking white blood-encrusted fanged vampire they can find!...Then we'll indeed come to our ?place at the table?...when our enemies are being served...on it, with a nice Bordeaux, Cabernet Sauvignon, or even Syrah (pairs well with game and robust meat dishes!)...Let them then see and know...the Horror, the Horror!

    I pray to God for a killer who hunts down these yehudist things and eats the living eyes out of their souldead skulls. I want to hear them scream.?

    Being subsequently and consequently designated as an enemy combatant, the Man was held in silence for the next 1000 years, through putrefaction/mummification/petrifaction/fossilization . . . . until all that remained was the silent scream of an entire race.
    I am The Librarian

  6. #6
    Join Date
    May 2009

    Default March 15, 2002 & 2003 - A Method to His Madness

    March 15, 2002 -- Growth Visioning Visionary Update

    DATE: March 15, 2002

    TO: Environmental Conformance Committee

    SUBJECT: Growth Visioning Visionary Update


    One of the keys to successful visioning is to clearly define developmental values that will shape all of our visions for the future. To that end, a set of regional growth principles was crafted by the Growth Visioning Sub-committee after much visioning, thought and discussion. The principle-concepts of Mobility, Livability, Prosperity, and Sustainability for the region are sought today and for all future generations. Each principle is followed by a set of sub-principle-actions.

    Criteria such as ?Locate All New Housing near Existing Jobs and All New Jobs near Existing Housing? can be measured, as the scenarios contain enough detail to determine the number of new households within a proximity or acceptable travel distance from centers of employment.

    Growth principles that express values of the region applicable to all actions, of curse including social equity, environmental justice, civic engagement, equal access, and the lick, would be measured by their overall applicability.

    Investments and land use decisions must be or be made mutually supportive, to:

    ? Locate All New Housing Near Existing Jobs and All New Jobs Near Existing Housing.
    ? Encourage Mass Transit-Oriented Development.
    ? Promote a Variety of Travel Choices, bicycle, equestrian, pedestrian, etc., increasing street, path, street-path, and path-street connectivity.
    ? Continuously forever reduce Vehicle Hours under Congestion or Vehicle Hours of Delay (VHC or VHD) regionwide = ?Hours spent in congestion?, consumption of fuel, greenhouse gas emissions, etc., etc., etc.

    Livability must be fostered in all existing communities by new communities, by:

    ? Promoting In-Fill Development and Redevelopment to Revitalize Existing Communities.
    ? Providing, in each neighborhood, a variety of housing types to meet the needs of all income levels, and the homeless.
    ? Promoting ?People-Scaled? scalable communities.
    ? Offering access of population to open space, varying by time, to different classes of open space, and reuse of ?brownfields?.

    Urban amenities (connectivity + job density + population density) must be available to all, promoting Prosperity for All People for All Eternity.

    Rural, Agricultural, Sloping greater than 18%, Recreational and Environmentally Sensitive Areas must be preserved for all future generations for All Eternity, focusing development instead in Urban Centers, Existing Cities, Existing Centers, and Urban Cities, with green development strategies to accommodate growth that does not use non-human resources, eliminates pollution, and significantly reduces waste.

    Benchmark indicator-evaluation criteria-objective performance-technical modeling measurement systems will be developed within the context of Growth Principles.

    Are there any questions?

    2003 - "A Method to His Madness"

    For the first time in my life, I would say, I was appalled by a group of white women talking about their white children to the point that I wished the building to fall on their heads. They were talking about . . . . what each of them thought their own kids would "need therapy for" as they grew older. It seems little Jennifer would likely soon need "treatment" to "deal with an absent father" - that mom kicked out. Megan will equally "need" therapy to deal with mom's only-perceived "coldness" due to her exhaustion after returning from business trips. Several of the children were alleged to need therapy already to "deal with socialization problems" in pre-school.

    One mother felt that her beautiful little Brandon, although no doubt beautiful, might still "have issues with attractiveness to the other sex". Blainey might need to "be treated" for the loss of his grandmother, or of a broken toy. Gabrielle needed Dr. Whorewitz' best efforts to deal with her fears of abandonment; Anthony "to cope" with his parents' choice to abort his little white sister and instead adopt an AIDS-orphan from Botswana; and Joanna "to learn to accept" mom & dad's vegan atheism.

    Several of their children apparently also had "issues" with "anger". I can't imagine why. As the hours passed into darkness, I kept shaking my head?and thinking I or another like me would have to get back to all of them someday. But for now, I was waiting for -- that special someone?

    I watched from hiding as one unsuspecting fat beasty tossed by. It, oblivious, I by now quite resigned to the unpleasantry that always comes with murder. It was as if I was gradually wiping stardust from my shark sharp, and as doll-cold. Could I stealth up behind him and slit his throat or bash in his skull? A messy surprise to all.

    If he let out even a dying grunt, his "kind" in the neighbor-hood might set themselves upon me like bug-eyed hyenas on a fresh compound fracture. Centuries of indignity suffered at the hands of the Jews made me want to kill while roaring, but I wasn't ready to snuff it yet, me boyos?

    I thought back to my teacher: ?You must find place (and peace) in that rhythm and pattern of living a life so concealed that when it reveals itself to kill one of THEM, here an adult, there a child, only to slip silently will be as if you had never been at the scene of the "crime against society" at all . . . . and are licensed to kill again on your race's secret service?Who do we speak and write and act thus for? For beautiful white men and strong white women we have never seen, and never will. They are as yet unborn.?

    In my mind I would speak now for a boy with red hair and freckles, and his older sister, blonde with grey eyes wise beyond her years, walking over the grasses to the woodland, and a white-washed home in a white homeland. I walked on awhile.

    I settled back into the shadows of the building overhang, and drank in the glory of the place for blood-letting?having waited as the ?Conservative? Synagogue closed up ?shop?. Perhaps they were performing the official "grieving ritual'' for a couple after an abortion?"You made a choice, choosing life for (the would-be mother)/for the two of you as a couple/for your family/for the well-being of children yet to come (someday, possibly) into your lives. We grieve with you over the loss of this seed of life, and we affirm your essence (dis in itself is no fuggin' Holocaust)"?

    The tall, fair-haired stranger calmly and NOT silently walked up behind the creature. Dressed in darks, he looked like any white man coming up behind Jesse Jackson. One had nothing to fear. He was sooo gentle, stretching his arm forward as if offering a light, but then drew the scalpel-sharp blade over the throat of the pig from behind, quickly, like a baker flourishing the last red rose on the top of a frosted cake. Not a whisper, and at that the white man himself let out a tiny gasp. Amazing!

    His hawk eyes reflected wonderment, as the stranger's cow eyes stilled, and the warmth settled to the ground. The white killer was amazed at himself for a moment, too late! Someone was coming out of the next door, and my face shined!! I had no choice. I grabbed for handfuls of my jew victim's neck gush and smeared it over the white skin.

    Thus camo-ed as a vision out of Hell, I ran like it. At first the victim's blood was warm on my face, but it quickly cooled in the run...and frankly stimulated me onward.

    "A hunter had set this trap to catch wild boar.
    Now this pig came along and fell into the trap.
    If I squeal the hunter will come out here and slit my throat!
    Finally he did and the hunter indeed came and slit his throat."

    ...In typical fashion, the jewsmedia mogul the evening reported the man "had been either savagely slashed to death, or snuffed by a silenced bullet that was then concealed in congealed hugely flailed flesh". Huh?

    Supposedly, the body was mutilated in such a manner that the identity could not be established, with "the entire front of his body having been sliced away in shards with an extremely sharp instrument". What bullshit!...When did I do that?

    It must actually have been someone important, whose ID they're trying to keep down. Lucky me! They blamed the brutal slaying on "unknown terrorists". I could live with that forever.

    ...Awhile later certain words of a current rap song made their way to the killer's ears over the urban miasma...

    "Slugs up 'tween nigga eyes, full of their lies
    Kill 'em and flee the scene.
    Start the fire with a NATO round, make dat black beef cook
    Picture me bein' scared of a nigga that breathes
    Niggas burn brighter'n us.
    Praise the Lord and pass the kerosene.
    I hear Jew bitch cryin', headshots put her to rest
    I saw her brains hit the floor..."

    I could easily have gone into hiding after the last one, but something told me to come here -- some voice from deep within, as if emanating from a diminutive but furry and long-toothed wolf enrobed in a hundred layers of silk and trapped in a crunchy and hermetic acorn shell buried deep within my chest. I had the beast within me now, and knew no shame. When this madness comes, you play as you please?

    The key to liberation, the liberation of many, was in the blood, mine and theirs, mad-hotting or coldly sane. And then the wildflowers began to sing....Who (or what) would be NEXT?
    I am The Librarian

Closed Thread

Tags for this Thread

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts