Friday, March 25, 2016

Radio Free Northwest Call-In Show - March 17th, 2016

http://northwestfront.org/2016/03/radio-free-northwest-call-in-show-march-17th-2016/

RFN call-in show for St. Patrick’s Day.

This is a pretty good show with a lot of good callers, but I do have to apologize for some technical problems which caused a kind of reverb or echo in several places during the show. We’ll work on that.

Thursday, March 24, 2016

Jew Billionaires Behind Multi-Cultural Attacks On Trump




by Bill White 

An old Polish proverb warns that “the Jew cries in pain as he strikes you.” Nowhere has this principle been more on display than with the attacks by multi-cultural mobs, financed by George Soros and Michael Bloomberg, on White working people who are rallying to support Donald J. Trump. These racist attacks have been encouraged and protected by Soros and Bloomberg and the Jewish media, demonstrating the control that America’s Judæo-occult deception machine has over its people.

“Yeah, I punched him,” said John Franklin McGraw, 78, who was arrested for slugging a Soros-financed black thug at a Trump rally. “Next time I’ll kill him.” The media highlighted this language, but ignored the violence that had provoked the incident, which led to White workers being forced to defend themselves. Jedediah Brown, an ignorant nigger who responded to calls broadcast on Chicago’s WBEZ radio and WBBN radio appeared on NPR’s All Things Considered to explain his motivation in charging the podium at Trump’s canceled Chicago rally. “I felt that I had to use violence to shut this down,” Brown said. “I just started swinging.”

NPR blamed Trump’s dislike of Jewish Communism for inciting violence. But WBBN, owned by Michael Bloomberg, issued a call for non-Whites to take up arms and kill Trump supporters in a Hutu-like broadcast before the rally. And NPR ran a program calling for progressives to use violent force to impose homosexuality on unwilling nations.
 
Attacks on White working people by Jewish-organized multi-cultural mobs are nothing new. Jewish mob violence was the signature tactic of the Civil Rights era, and almost every “black” riot of the past century has been organized by Jewish Communists. Trump blamed the latest acts of mob violence on Jew Communist candidate Bernie Sanders, but the real enemy he is facing is the world Zionist intelligence movement operating out of Jerusalem.

For thirty years, George Soros in particular has been working with the U.S. CIA and the Zionist Mossad to organize phony “color” movements against independent states. Soros has brought down the governments of Ukraine, Georgia, Egypt, Libya, and Tunisia with these tactics, and has tried to bring down Syria, Iran, Russia and China.

For the past several months these billionaire-financed thugs have acted as a paramilitary auxiliary to the Justice Department-funded thugs of illegitimate nigger President Barack Obama. In state after state, Trump supporters have defeated nigger mobs in self-defense after masked blacks with crude weapons have attacked Trump rallies. In Pennsylvania, Keystone United organizer Matthew Heimbach drew particular notice for leading the defense of endangered White workers.

The goal of the Soros-Bloomberg-organized mobs is the genocide of the White race, which is seen as a predicate necessary for the recreation of the Temple, the Judæo-occult code word for a New World Order. Supporting them are a host of other Jewish billionaires who are pulling the strings of the other presidential puppets, and making them join the dance of White death. Chaim Sabin, who owns Hillary Clinton like a whore, traipsed her out to blame Trump for the Soros-Bloomberg violence. Meanwhile, Sheldon Adelson, who similarly owns Marco Rubio and John Kasich, made them dance as well, causing them to revoke their pledge to support their own party’s nominee.

The Jews have been trying to enslave the world under a One-World Order for thousands of years. However, every time they have built a global empire they have overplayed their hands and been defeated. For the past century, the Jews have made the United States their vehicle for global conquest. However, America’s 210 million non-Jewish White workers have observed the genocide of their co-racialists in Rhodesia and South Africa, and the ongoing Jewish effort to destroy Europe with non-White immigration. As similar immigration and free trade schemes have destroyed America’s economy. Trump has been able to rise on White anger.

Trump, however, probably cannot lead White people to victory. Two of his children are Jewish converts, and Trump is only willing to go part of the way toward cleansing America, expelling 30 million illegal non-White foreigners but leaving 100 million others who don’t belong here in place, including eight million Jews, 38 million blacks, several millions sodomites (far fewer in reality that generally supposed) and 20 million corrupt, multi-culturalized Whites. Trump wants to “Make America Great Again” but America must be dismantled, and Trump can only take White people halfway there.




 

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Radio Free Northwest - March 24th, 2016




http://northwestfront.org/2016/03/radio-free-northwest-march-24th-2016/

Harold lets it all hang out.

Sunday, March 20, 2016

Hillary, You Bitch!


In case you haven't seen Trump's latest ad, it's a real hoot.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dJmbquvwqiE

Thursday, March 17, 2016

The OId Ways And The Old Country




[Excerpted from The Hill Of The Ravens by H.A. Covington]



Don’s elder daughter Cynthia Ellen Redmond was helping her mother in the kitchen. “Hi, Dad,” she said. The eldest Redmond daughter very greatly resembled Sarah in her younger years, the same slim strong build and handsome features, but without the young Sarah’s passion and wildness. Cindy was still wearing her green Labor Service coveralls. She had spent the day supervising a crew of younger people who were doing their mandatory year of manual work after graduating from high school. Today they had been raking leaves and doing landscaping in Priest Point Park. Next week they might be collecting the city’s garbage or repairing an elderly couple’s home. A few weeks before Cindy and her crew had been in Yakima picking apples, and in the spring they would be out in the woods doing forestry work, planting seedlings and stocking fisheries.

The Labor Service was the Republic’s response to the age-old excuse of capitalism as to why massive Third World immigration was needed. “Who does the dirty work?” moaned the old capitalists of the United States. “White and even black Americans won’t get their hands dirty or work up a sweat. We must have all these brown coolies, or who will do the heavy sweaty stooping stuff?” In the Republic, everybody’s children did. 

That meant everybody. Absolute equality of national service was the bedrock on which the system rested. Labor Service deferments for young people were even harder to get than military deferments for young men. Everybody’s kids worked with their hands for a year. Even if they were blind and in a wheelchair, a job was found for them counting widgets by touch or something of the kind. A field foreman’s stripes gleamed on the left sleeve of Cindy’s overall, indicating that she had voluntarily extended her time in the NLS beyond the legal one year requirement. She was now twenty years old, a quiet and competent young woman. By graduating from high school and passing her History and Moral Philosophy course she had already earned her C citizenship certificate and the single vote that came with it. Like many girls, Cindy had opted to go for her second level of citizenship through national service rather than through college or through marriage right out of high school. On completion their year of Labor Service, boys went right into the military for another two years, and they left the army with a two-vote B category citizenship.

Don’s youngest daughter Eva was doing her homework on the dining room table, a History and Moral Philosophy assignment on the life of Commander Rockwell. Eva was fifteen and starting to kick at the traces a bit. She wanted to achieve her own citizenship through the coveted “cultural asset” status, as an actress. If she passed the H & MP course and also the talent evaluation by the Ministry of Culture, she would get a C-1 certificate as opposed to her sister’s present C-2. 

Eva was entering high school on the Arts and Humanities track and she was doing well. She really did seem to have the true dramatic fire, and she had already appeared in two adolescent bit part roles on local television, which made both her parents proud enough to explode. Opportunities for actors were more numerous than one might think in the Republic, given that one of the primary national missions was preserving Western art and drama in the purest form. There were not only the Ministries of Culture and Broadcasting and the Northwest Film Board, but a number of prestigious private theater and movie companies. The Lord Chamberlain’s Men in Seattle and Portland’s Globe Theater Group were deemed to be among the most eminent and skillful Shakespearean and Restoration repertory companies in existence, attracting talent from all over the rapidly diminishing English-speaking-world. 

Eva intended to try and get her own Labor Service assignment as a stagehand and set builder for the NBA or one of the private companies. Nor were other canons of the European tradition neglected. Eva’s drama class was producing Edmond Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac in the original French for Thanksgiving Theater Day, with Eva playing the female lead as Roxane. Only in the Northwest Republic could the classical works of Western drama now be performed from their original texts, without later interpolations of multiculturalism and political correctness. In the spring they were planning for a field trip to make a video movie of Wuthering Heights, to be filmed in eastern Oregon as a viable substitute for the Yorkshire moors. Eva was determined to snag the role of Cathy, although she had told her father that if the family adopted a Lebensborn child before then she would stay home and help her mother with the infant.

Public schooling in the Northwest was superior to anything in any American university, and many European ones. The Culture and Education Ministries were convinced by the catastrophic American precedent of the last century that the devil made work for idle hands, and that it was in the interest both of society and of the child to keep him out of trouble by making sure that from kindergarten onward, until the boys went into the army and the girls went to college or marriage, school was a full-time job. The Party took an iron-hard line against various degenerate entertainments and pastimes of the kind that had wasted whole generations of white youth before the revolution. 

Instead of skateboards, Northwest kids got Shakespeare. They had computer games in abundance, but instead of mindless destruction of bizarre alien life forms all such games required the exercise of young minds to outwit the programming through swift analysis, thought, and reaction. Instead of the holographic virtual reality games and pornography that rotted the minds of American children of all races, Northwest boys and girls got virtual time travel that let them see and hear and smell everything from the hiss of the clothyard shafts at Agincourt to a day in the life of a pioneer family heading west in a Conestoga wagon, circa 1850. 

High school graduates were required among other attainments to speak, read and write fluently in four languages: English, Latin, and two others not their native tongue. The Latin requirement was not only for the increased knowledge it gave the child of modern languages descended from the tongue of ancient Rome, but also because the declensions and syntax imposed an orderly mental discipline on the child’s mind. Latin has no equivalent of “Like, whatever, dude.” Most Northwest high school students chose Spanish for one of their languages, for the very practical reason that it was the primary tongue of their national enemy and it would prove of use. Eva had impressed the hell out of her parents by choosing French and Italian. When she had made her choices known, Don had asked his daughter why. “French in honor of the one nation who dared to oppose the American empire back in the old days,” the girl had replied. “Italian because I always hear Aunt Tori and Big Bill speaking it, and it’s beautiful. I want to talk with Tori in Italian.”

Cindy El was prim and attractive, and she promised to grow into a handsome and matronly woman, but Eva had the makings of a true beauty. The girl was blond and willowy, her hair a shining and living sheaf of gold, and her walk was that of a princess who would grow to become a queen. When Eva entered a room every male eyeball from eight to eighty clicked, and it worried Don. For Cindy there had only been one, Mark Conway, one of nature’s gentlemen, and neither of them had ever given her parents a moment of worry. With Eva, chasing every teenaged boy in Olympia away from the house had already become almost a full-time job for him and Sarah both. The kids were even willing to brave Baskerville for a moment or two in Evie’s company. 

Middle son Matt, aged nineteen, was stationed in Twin Falls doing his army service and trying to live down the reputation of his famous namesake. He was going to major in political science and criminal justice when he got out of the army and he had already told his father he wanted to follow him into BOSS after the required minimum three years in the Civil Guard as a police officer. Somehow it just seemed right that there should always be a cop named Matt Redmond in the service of his people. Third son John was now aged eight and worshiped his spaceman brother Allan. John’s room was full of photos, prints and crayon drawings of Allan, the Martian landscape and the spaceship Vanguard that took Allan to Mars. “Cindy El’s getting married!” John breathlessly informed to his father as he mounted the stairs to his bedroom.

“Well, one would hope,” agreed Don genially. “I’d like to get her off my hands sometime this century.”

"She's getting married to Mark Conway!"

“Yeah, well, I’d admire if you let Cindy and your mother tell me all about it, young ‘un,” said Don. Every now and then a little bit of the South still slipped into Don’s speech, relics from his uncle and later association with John Morgan. Don hung up his coat and his gun in the bedroom closet and took off his tie, then put on the smoking jacket the girls had given him on his last birthday. 

* * *

He sighed. “Never mind, enough about work for the evening. Now what’s this about Cindy getting married to Mark Conway? I mean, it’s not unexpected. It’s always been on the cards since they were in elementary school, but have we finally gotten a formal proposal?” She smiled.

“Yep. We received a registered letter from Pastor Marlon Carlisle today,” said Sarah, handing him the envelope.

“I’m flattered the Conways elected to use the most prominent Christian Identity minister in the country as the matchmaker.” Don read the letter out loud. “On behalf of the Conway family and their son Mark Isaiah blah blah…a true and honorable affection having grown between Mark and your daughter Cynthia Ellen blah blah blah…sure looks like a proposal to me,” asked Don, glancing over the text. “And they’re not asking for a dowry. Always a sign of a love match. Okay, Snoops, now that it’s finally coming down to brass tacks, how do you feel about the prospect of Mark as a member of the family?”

“I think he’s a fine young man and a very good catch for our daughter. I always have.”

“I agree, one hundred per cent. Does Cindy El think he’s a good catch?”

“Oh, yes. You said it yourself, she’s been chasing Mark for years.”

“But…?” prodded Don, sensing a small hesitation.

Sarah frowned slightly and chose her words carefully. “Cindy El wants the marriage, but the religion aspect worries me a little bit. Cindy has never been all that spiritual in the old ways, not like Eva who does all her alignments every day. Cindy’s the stolid and down-to-earth one among our kids, she always was, and she lives very much in this world. We’ve talked about it and she assures me she won’t have any problem attending church with Mark or allowing their children to be raised as Christians.”

“Yeah, well, at least the Conways are CI and not holy-rolling Pentecostals who want to burn you at the stake for that voodoo that you do so well. I know that ZOG persecutes them, but I swear that sometimes I think that’s one group of immigrants the Republic could do without. It’s really ironic. In the United States the Pentecostals are accused of being racists and fascists because they preach against interracial marriage and homosexuality to their congregations, but when they come here they cause nothing but trouble. They get in everybody’s face by demanding Bravo citizenship without having served in the military. At least once a year I have to bust some group of tub-thumpers for sneaking into race and politics disguised as religion, especially since they can’t seem to shake this stupid obscene idea about Jews being God’s Chosen People. They’re as hare-brained as Todd Andrews and his so-called Heroic Vitalist Center.”

“How odd of God to choose the Jews,” quipped Sarah.

“Not news, not odd, the Jews chose God,” replied Don with a smile.

“We’ve news for the Jews: they’re going to lose!” giggled Sarah, completing the third line. “To think that one used to carry ten years in federal prison!”

“Yeah, I know. Sometimes I think we overthrew the United States government simply for the right to tell jokes. But the Conways aren’t bigots like the Pentecostals. Your father came to accept your own adoption of the Craft,” pointed out Don. “Nor do I mind having Christians in the family as long as they’re sane and decent people. Why shouldn’t it work in reverse?”

“Dad is an old fashioned hoot-’n-holler Baptist, not Christian Identity,” said Sarah. “Insofar as he has any religion at all, which isn’t very far. The Aryan race is his real religion, always has been. He thinks my Craft is just a silly little girl phase I never grew out of. It doesn’t offend him because he doesn’t take it seriously. Yes, I know, the Conways are good folks and they think the world of Cindy, but I’m concerned about how the rest of the CI community here will treat her when they learn she was brought up in the Old Ways. It seems to be getting worse every year, this pointless, stupid bickering over religion. Why can’t we just lay it aside? Like we don’t have problems enough with those American maniacs constantly scheming to re-conquer us and enslave us again?”

“It seems to be the peculiar curse of our race,” sighed Don.

“I know it was during the early days of the Movement,” recalled Sarah. “Commander Rockwell and the Old Man tore their hair out trying to get what few people we had to see sense on the issue and not fight over it.”

“It was bad,” agreed Don. “It’s hard to believe that even at the height of ZOG’s power, there were racially aware white people who hated other white people so badly that they would rather ZOG continued to rule than the people they hated have any part in the solution. That period of history was never entirely sane, and in some respects we were just as nutty. Even before ZOG, religion was our curse. We spent many centuries merrily butchering one another by the millions over the Great Jumping Jesus, yea or nay or how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. No matter how imminent the existential threat from the üntermenschen, there is always a white man somewhere that we hate worse. 

"It’s like we must have a white opponent to fight against, as if it fills some deep psychological need. It’s almost as if a non-white enemy just doesn’t fill the bill in some weird corner of our soul. I always thought that Commander Rockwell had the best way of dealing with it, which is just not deal with it. The Constitution of the Republic gives every man and woman the right to freedom of religion, freedom to practice their faith and to raise their children in that faith, with the critical proviso that they do not attempt to disguise political activity or ideology wrapped in a religious cloak. That’s a lesson we learned the hard way back in the twentieth century, when the established Christian churches then were almost totally corrupted with Zionism and sexual perversion. In the States they still are. We rightly guard ourselves against that particular Trojan horse, but beyond that we should all worship God or the gods in our own way and just shut the hell up about it. Sorry, I know I’m rambling, but the whole situation just plain ticks me off.”

“Listening to one’s husband ramble comes with a wife’s job description,” she said with a quick kiss.

“Look, Tim and Stephanie Conway are both B-category citizens. They’ve got a prosperous contracting business building immigrant housing for new settlers, good quality homes and apartments.  We’ve known them for years, and I’ve never seen a sign of bigotry against any other white person or group out of them. They know you’re Wicca and I’m NS and if it’s ever bothered them, I’ve never detected it. And I’m a detective, remember? Mark’s a fine and steady boy. He’s coming out of the army in January and going to work for his dad part time, and the rest of that time he’s going to work on a civil engineering degree from Oregon State. That would mean that he and Cindy would have to move down to Portland, but hey, it happens. They grow up, Snoops. It’s the right point in both their lives for him and Cindy both to start a family, and I’ve got no problem with it if Cindy doesn’t.” Don grinned at his wife. “You just don’t want to give Cindy the Little Talk,” he said with a chuckle.

“I already did, last year,” Sarah reminded him. “Just in case she and Mark…well, never mind, we both know that wouldn’t have happened, Mark is almost like a medieval knight with his lady when he’s with Cindy, but still I figured it was better to be safe than sorry. Thank the gods that we now live in a society where it was mine to do. I remember my sex education classes starting in second grade, before the revolution. Some of them were so filthy I still can’t believe anyone could teach such things to children.”

“I was home-schooled by my aunt and uncle for that very reason. This is now. What did you think of it then?” asked Don curiously.

“I was seven years old, and you have to remember most of what we were taught wasn’t normal sex. I thought it was all very silly and gross, and it convinced me that grownups were mostly insane. Why on earth would they want to do nasty stuff like that, otherwise? One day I went home and told Dad about what we were doing in class. The day after that Dad came to school and beat the faggot sex education teacher to a bloody pulp. That was his first arrest for hatecrime. He broke out of King County jail and from then on it was…well, you know what it was like. But I never went back to that school.”

Cindy came back into the kitchen wearing a skirt and sweater and without being asked piled steaming potatoes au gratin into a large bowl for the dinner table. “Hi, princess,” said Don to his daughter. “Look, honey, got a moment? Can you step into the study? I’d like to talk to you. I reckon you know what about.”

 “Sure, Dad,” said the girl. “Been upstairs talking with Aunt Tori?”

“Yes. She wants me to tell the reunion tonight that her lumbago’s acting up, which is horse hockey. She’ll outlive us all.” They went into Don’s den and sat down on the sofa together. “No bull now, Cindy. Mark Conway has formally asked our family for permission to marry you. I want to know how you feel about it.”

“Actually, I was the one who asked him to marry me,” said Cindy with a smile. “Once when we were eight years old. Then again, seriously, a year ago, before he went into the army. I haven’t changed my mind.”

“That’s all I need to hear, princess. I’ll send my formal acceptance to Pastor Carlisle tomorrow. I’ll also call Mark at his unit up on the Yukon border and I’ll tell him the good news myself.” He leaned over and kissed her. “May the both of you know nothing but joy and fulfillment, all of your lives. Now, in view of your coming change of situation, I want you to be honest with me about everything. How can I help?” 

Don expected a calm and serious assessment of the young couple’s financial and material needs prior to their each receiving their Life Grants from the state. Those needs he was fully prepared to fulfill with all the resources at his command, including his father-in-law’s as well, for he knew he could speak for John Corbett on this. After all, this was Cindy, the practical and unsentimental one. It was her way.

Cindy El rarely surprised him, but this time she managed it. “Dad, what was the old country like?”

“Huh?” asked Don in surprise. “Cindy, why on earth would you ask me that now?”

“I was just thinking about Mark and me today,” she told him. “I was wondering what our children will be like, what kind of world they will grow up in, wondering if my sons will have to fight another war to keep our country alive. Then I started wondering what it would have been like if you had stayed behind, what kind of life they would have had. Or even if they would be at all, or I would have been born at all. That, and you and Mom going to the reunion tonight reminded me how much we owe you. But I just got curious. All around me every day I meet and speak with new people, new settlers, and they all know where they came from. 

"I guess like all us woodchucks who were born here I sometimes feel there’s something missing. I hear people speaking in German and Russian and Afrikaans, or in English with accents from England and Ireland and New Zealand and Massachusetts. It’s like they have something I don’t, in a way. So I wonder. What was our own land like, the land we lived in before we Came Home?”

“Honey, I was only six years old when we left North Carolina. I've lived all my life since then here in the Homeland. Never wanted to be anywhere else.”

“But surely you must remember something?” pressed Cindy. “I hear a little of it in your voice sometimes, a passing reference to this or that.”

“That’s mostly from growing up around Uncle Matt and from your grandfather,” pointed out Don. “I picked up some of their speech patterns second hand. I’m not really a Carolinian.”

“I know. I wish I had known Uncle Matt.”

“So do I, princess. Matt and Heather both. You missed something there.”

“It’s almost like North Carolina is a ghost that follows us everywhere. Someone once called us a haunted people. Haunted by our past, haunted by the many lands we came from. I want to know our family ghosts, Dad, so I can tell my own children about them someday. Our own land, the land long ago…what was it like? Can you tell me anything?”

“Well, yeah, I remember a little. I dream about it sometimes,” said Redmond slowly. “Just hazy images mostly, the kind a person of my age retains from their early childhood. Not much, and what there is doesn’t hang together very coherently. There are some bad memories, like gangs of ugly black children with big bubble lips and nappy frizzy heads chasing me and beating me with sticks, throwing rocks at me if I came out of my yard, that kind of thing. But there are good memories as well.

"Sometimes I dream about the summer, the muggy burning heat of a kind that we never get here, or at least we never get here on the South Sound. I dream about air conditioners rumbling in windows, dripping water from the condensation. I remember green and leafy trees, kind of the same as we have here, but different as well. The trees were smaller than here but with bigger leaves, and the Carolina pines are different from our firs and cedars. I know that because I’ve seen photos, but I remember it too. At least, I think I do. Taller, straighter, and in my mind I see pine cones and brown pine needles like a carpet on the ground everywhere. Soft dirt, softer than here, darker.

"And sometimes sand. I remember going to a place once that my parents called Cliffs of the Neuse, which is a river in Carolina. I remember there were big tall pine trees growing up there out of hard white sand. I remember looking down on the water and it was kind of muddy greenish brown, not like the blue of the Sound here. I remember going to places with old cannons, Fort Fisher and Bentonville. They were Civil War battlefields where Southern soldiers fought against the United States, very long ago in the first time when our people revolted against the Americans. Later ZOG had all those sites plowed under and all the relics were destroyed, and it became against the law even to speak of that time or to honor any of our ancestors who fought for the Confederacy. Display of any Confederate flag or insignia still carries ten years’ federal prison time now, if I recall correctly.

“But mostly I remember autumn in Carolina. The trees blazing with gold and red and brown, the air clear and chill. I remember a Halloween or two, jack o’lanterns on porches and beautiful golden leaves on the ground. You want to know what I most recall about the old country, honey? I remember the Halloweens. My brother and my sister and I used to go trick or treating. My Uncle Matt took us all, with his gun worn outside on his hip. He was a North Carolina state cop then, and he was one of the few white men who were still allowed to carry a weapon after the Schumer Act. He went with us so none of the black kids messed with us or stole our candy. 

"Yeah, I’d have to say it was Halloween I remember best. There was just something different in the air than here, maybe because we were closer to the real Old Country, the Europe that our ancestors came from in those tiny wooden ships. My Christmases? Those are all here, Cindy El and thanks to Matt and Heather they were all good ones. I guess that’s the best way I can explain it. Halloween means the old country to me, but Christmas means the Homeland. I hope that makes some kind of sense to you.”

“And your father and your mother? My grandparents?” asked Cindy.

“I actually can’t remember that much about them, which I suppose is something I ought to feel badly about, but in my mind they are always kind of overshadowed by images of Matt and Heather. I wasn’t with them when they were killed, thank God,” said Don. “It happened in the state capital, Raleigh, what they called a carjacking in those days. A Mexican gang specialized in stealing late model cars and shipping them to South America. Rather than take the time to break in and maybe damage the merchandise they simply waited for a nice car driven by white people to pull up to a stoplight or park, then dragged them out, killed them, and drove off with the car. It happened all the time in those days. 

"I remember my Uncle Matt and my Aunt Heather coming to our house and asking us, my brother and sister and me, if we’d like to go on a long trip. I didn’t know it, but they were actually taking us away for good, one step ahead of the Child Protective Services. This was before It Takes A Village, but the government was already using the law to kidnap white children and give them to liberals and…well, to other kinds of people. The courts had declared Matt and Heather to be unfit guardians because of Matt’s so-called history of anti-government activities, which involved his job as a state police officer. He had this funny idea that the law applied to federals as well, and back in the old days he rained on a number of Washington’s parades, so I understand. 

"Plus there was that business with Bill Vitale. They never forgave him for that, especially Hillary. The Old Man wrote a book about it, which you may have read. [See Slow Coming Dark] Anyway, we kids were put on a train to Seattle with Aunt Heather. We couldn’t fly because we had to travel under false names. I do remember that long, long trip. I remember changing trains in this big huge station in Chicago where I ate a messy hot dog while sitting on a hard bench and slopped chili all over my shirt and pants, while about a hundred radios all around seemed to be shrieking out Mexican salsa music. I remember seeing the Rockies coming up ahead in the train’s observation car, capped with snow, and my first sight of blue lakes in Montana. Heather took us to her uncle, Oscar Lindstrom, and he hid us in his cabin out near Yelm for a year or so until Matt and Heather were able to Come Home themselves.”

“Will we ever be able to go back?” asked Cindy softly.

“Why? Do you want to go back?” asked Don in surprise. “I mean, it’s not a bad thing if you do. A lot of people here believe they will go back some day, to the lands of their birth. Everywhere from Germany to Milwaukee to South Africa. I think all of us want to go back, at least a little.”

“Mmm, not for good, I don’t think. I was born here. My home is the Northwest and it always will be. But it just makes me mad that the Americans won’t give us entry visas, won’t even let us go back to visit. Like we’re contaminated or something.”

“To them, we are contaminated,” said her father. “We are contaminated with two things they fear more than anything. Courage and racial pride. They spent seventy years stamping courage and pride out of our people, and yet despite it all here we are in the Northwest, springing back up again like weeds.”

“I’d just like to see Carolina someday,” she said wistfully.

“Someday, yes, I think we’ll be able to go back,” said Don. “Not in my lifetime, but maybe in yours. I’d say pretty certainly that your children will be able to go back someday if they want. Honey, you know that the Homeland was never intended to be a prison for us. It’s a lifeboat, a place of refuge. One day the men and women of our race will grow strong and brave again, and more importantly, we will grow many. There will be enough of us so that we can kick down the walls they’ve built around us and take it all back, the America and the Canada that our forefathers made. Speaking of those children you mentioned…Cindy, before God, are you sure you want Mark Conway to be their father? Honey, I won’t pressure you or try to force you. When all is said and done, this is your decision.”

“Yes, Dad. I’ve known Mark was the one since I was a child, Dad, and Mark knew the same about me. Just like you knew Mom was the one, and she told me she knew you. I just had it a lot easier than you did. You two had to meet and recognize one another in a bad time of fear and violence and sickness. I didn’t have to go through that. You and Mom and Papa John and Aunt Tori made a world where it was possible for Mark and me to come together without fear or guilt or confusion, where young white people aren’t driven half insane by what’s happening around them. I know enough history to understand that.”

“Don’t ever forget it, Cindy El. Because if you do, you and your children will be forced to repeat it. Now let’s get in to supper before the smell of that crackling pork drives me nuts.”

Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Radio Free Northwest - March 17th, 2016


http://northwestfront.org/2016/03/radio-free-northwest-march-17th-2016/

HAC on the call-in show, plus a new Who Guards the Guardians? Trucker, Gretchen, HAC on “Who Is White?” and a lot of great Irish music for St. Patrick’s Day.

Monday, March 14, 2016

I'm A Real Twit


A reminder for those of you who indulge: I am now on Twitter @HAC1488.  Been on almost six weeks now and haven't been canceled at the behest of some outraged "Social Justice Warrior." Longer than I figured I'd last

You know, I can see how this can get addictive, and if you've got millions of followers like Donald Trump has, I can get how this would be a very effective communications and PR weapon. I rather doubt I will ever reach that point, though. Zuckerberg always used to pull my Facebook pages when I got to about 500 friends.

Sunday, March 13, 2016

No Troops For Syria




by Bill White 

United States President Barack Hussein Obama has decided to resist calls to deploy American ground troops to Syria, despite the recent massacre of 14 people in San Bernardino, California at a holiday party, sparking criticism that he’s a wimp like the first George Bush. But Obama insiders overheard by Russian intelligence are saying that the president's reluctance has deeper roots.

“The U.S. Army hasn’t won a war against anything bigger than Grenada for 70 years.” Secretary of Defense Ashton B. Carter was reportedly recorded by Russia’s FSB saying on a phone call to the UN ambassador Samantha Powers. “We have an army of women, niggers and faggots. We don’t stand a chance.”

Obama’s White House staff declined to comment on the intercepts, which were enabled by American intelligence agencies inability to understand encryption.

The United States has been a multi–culturalizing its military since the end of World War Two. Truman ordered colored units integrated with White ones. Combat effectiveness collapsed, and after the U.S. defeat in Korea and Vietnam, America fell back to attacking countries without militaries, like the tiny island of Grenada. In the words of Jew Jonah Goldberg “every few years, we have to take some tiny country and throw it against the wall.”

This strategy of bullying the defenseless, the so-called “Jew war” worked well, and it’s technology developed, the U.S. moved into bombing larger countries like Serbia and Iraq, that lacked air forces. However, once America’s weak multicultural military was defeated on the ground by Afghanistani and Iraqi goat herders, and its pathetic troops were caught sexually torturing prisoners, this strategy of “Jew war” became the laughing stock of the world.

Carter was recorded saying, “What our troops don’t understand is that the enemy really is racist, sexist and anti-gay, and there are no police who are going to step in and save them like at universities. The enemy doesn’t believe that Black Lives Matter. The enemy doesn’t care about brutality.”

Many American troops won’t even wear uniforms, never mind carry a gun, insisting upon their transsexual rights. Carter has recently signed an order saying that an entire male U.S. infantry brigade has been authorized to enter combat wearing nothing but bras, panties and “pretty shoes.”

The inability of the U.S. military to defeat even lightly armed citizen militias in nations like Syria has left Obama terrified. His decision to withdraw from the Bundy Ranch in 2014 was largely based upon this realization. “If these honkies find out how weak we really are, they’ll bring back lynching.” Obama was recorded telling his wife Michelle.

Obama officials decried Russian intelligence for making the intercepts, blaming information provided by Edward Snowden. “Boy, dose crackers sho’ is smart.” Homeland defense secretary Jeh Johnson blubbered to reporters. He then repeated Obama administration demands for a ban on encryption technology. “De only ways we can be defeatin’ da White man is to be takin’ away his juju.” Johnson continued.

As Obama, and his bubble-lipped crew have caterwauled, Russian President Vladimir Putin has shown them up. After deploying 2000 troops, plus fighters, to Syria, Putin destroyed several Obama-backed rebel groups, allowing Syrian forces to recapture a major city of Hams and to exterminate ethnic-Turkish rebels in Syria’s northwest. With Russian backing, Syrian President Assad’s forces are mopping up the last U.S.-backed forces around Aleppo, after which they’ll destroy the U.S.-backed Kurds. Only after the U.S. is completely humiliated will Putin swat the Islamic state.

“We’s be thinkin’ dat Mr. Putin be racist,” negro Atty. Gen. Loretta Lynch gibbered at a press conference.  “Dass why I’ze gonna be indictin’ him and shit.”

Putin brushed such threats away as pathetic. “Any day. I can turn America into a radioactive ash,” Putin told his English language TV station RT.

Obama, meanwhile sought to distract attention from his problems, spending his day on the phone with Jessie Jackson looking for White cops to accuse of stupid false crimes.



Saturday, March 12, 2016

American Horror Story


[This man is pretty much typical of the kind of people who come to the Northwest Front looking for spiritual aid and comfort, or for revenge, or for the Man On The White Horse with the magic beans in his pocket, or for an intellectual night's lodging, or simply a night's lodging, period. 

His story is very much typical of the stories of the past two to three generations of pale males in this society--stumble after stumble; disaster after disaster; ghastly, wretched bad luck after ghastly, wretched bad luck; "bad choice" after "bad choice." 

Although I think we all know that the "badness" of certain choices in Amurrica is relative, and that when all "good choices" are effectively cut off from certain racial and gender groups due to lack of money, lack of initial life placement, or lack of the insider track that the dictator's votaries receive, and it is no longer possible to be "good" without completely violating every moral principle and every ounce of self-respect a White man might somehow hang onto in this toilet--then "bad choices" are pretty much the only choices a White man has access to.

But this is one reason why the NF is not moving forward as it should--the people who do find us and turn to us all seem to be walking wounded. That's what Amurrica produces these days, and they are all hobbling after Donald Trump now. When he fails them, as he will, the NF needs to be in a position to step up and pick the better element among these people up off the floor. - HAC]

* * *
Dear HAC:

Yeah, I suppose. long story and a really complicated life. I completely know what you're referring to when you reference the American Turdfest middle-aged White men find themselves in. Hell, I'm the poster child for it. 

I'm the guy who did 8 years in prison. Car accident. Bad one. My fault, never disputed that, but the punishment was insanely disproportionate to what actually occurred, and my National Alliance affiliation being deliberately brought in by a D.A. had much to do with that. American Jewstice at its finest. Released in 2009, 7 years ago. Allow me to recap, briefly.

I spent these last 7 years in the turdiest state in the union, Illinois. Two governors in prison at the same time, having within its borders the winningest murder capital of the Western world, and being ranked number one for locking up more of its citizens for nonviolent offenses than any other state. The land of Lincoln, that bastard. 

I've been thrown in the county jail three times since being released from prison: once for nonpayment of an ex-wife's attorney fees, another for a strictly verbal family argument, the third for driving on a suspended license on my way to work. 

Well, how else is a guy supposed to pay the ten grand a year in child support, mandated by the state, right? Man's gotta have a car in these bumfuck areas, if he wants to get to work reliably. But getting a license? Not for a guy like me, unless I could pull 15 grand out of me bum. Your best idea for the Northwest Republic so far? No drivers licenses, I can get behind that.

I've had to relearn my trade as well, slowly climbing my way back up the tech ladder, that takes a while at my age (54), and in my technologically-based field. Oh and did I mention I married a second time, mostly for financial reasons so that maybe I could have the freedom to move somewhere besides Illinois? The Northwest included? But alas, again I unwittingly chose a sociopath for a wife, and she ended up getting arrested for prescription drug fraud. Damn the luck!

["Unwittingly" may have been simple lack of any other choice. White females as a group seem to have become damaged beyond all repair. Are there any sane and normal White women left? Then where in God's name are they? If we could somehow locate a pool of sane and normal White females and bring them together with all our men who have been thrown away by Amurrica, I think that could be the greatest service anyone could ever do. It's been tried, though, and the loons of both genders took over in short order. - HAC]

Between these two wives I've been in court 9 times in 7 years. So I don't know if you can call me the typical supporter, unless Northwest supporters have a story like this. 

I have recently escaped Illinois, and child support, and been given a quite lucrative job in a growing field. In [redacted]. I live in the heart of the city, in the shadow of [redacted], more free than I have been in 15 years, my friend. 
 
I gave up trying to make everything right. I climbed the fence and ran.

-[Name redacted]




Wednesday, March 09, 2016

Will Donald Trump Write Our Permission Slip?




[Transcript by request]
Greetings from the Northwest Homeland, comrades. It’s March the 10th, 2016, I’m Harold Covington, and this is Radio Free Northwest.
       
Okay, in the light of the events of Super Tuesday and other primaries since then, I think it’s time we re-visited the Donald Trump situation. Hillary, no need. She’s got it taped now and she’s back to being inevitable. She always was. It’s pretty clear she’s not going to be indicted or in any way inconvenienced over the e-mail thing; she’s Hillary and she gets a pass, as always.

Now, I need to make some things clear at the outset. Let me just quickly reiterate that I have not drunk the Donald Trump Kool-aid and I never will. I say to you again that

A) Donald Trump is not one of us. He doesn’t even seem to be a common or garden-variety conservative; up until he ran for president he doesn’t seem to have shown any interest in politics or any of this, just money and his own ego.

No one seems to know just what Trump’s genuine political and racial views are, or even if he has any. Prior to getting bitten by his latest presidential bug, The Donald was actually pretty tight with both Clintons and he made donations to the Clinton Family Foundations, i.e. bribes, although no one is quite sure what for.

B) Donald Trump has Jewish in-laws and apparently one of his daughters married a Jew and converted to Judaism. So far as I am aware he has made no major pronouncements of any kind on Israel as part of his presidential campaigns beyond a few vague soothing noises of the usual sort; I get the impression he really isn’t interested in anything that doesn’t offer his own ego a boost and would probably shy away from genuinely intractable problems. My guess is he’ll go whichever way he thinks can get him votes and maybe get the RINOs to back off, so in the short term don’t be surprised to see him in a photo op wearing  yarmulke at a Holocaust memorial or something.

C) Trump is making what is in fact a pretty shrewd political move in trying to peel off as many black votes as he can from the Democrats by playing the niggers off against the beaners, which shouldn’t be too hard to do, since niggers and beaners generally despise one another for economic and cultural reasons.
     
The blacks may be stupid, but they do have eyes in their heads. They’ve noticed whose jobs this flood of illegal immigration is taking. On more than one occasion in various workplace and other scenarios I have done my bit to explain to those of the monkoidal persuasion that the Jews are bringing in the Mexicans to replace them and the Asians to replace us. That’s pretty much it, and niggers can get their primitive minds wrapped around a simple concept like that.

Trump is actually pretty brilliant in a back-room electoral politics dirty tricks kind of way in playing off the two main minority groups against one another, and maybe finally breaking the Democrat monopoly on black votes, at least to some extent. But this means that at some point, probably before the general election really heats up, he’s going to have to make a major appeal for black votes and God knows what he’s going to end up promising them, and at whose expense. He might promise to send the FBI to come and arrest all of us. All you guys out there who have drunk the Trump kool-aid need to be ready for that.

Okay, now—all that having been said and all my caveats duly noted, I have to admit that the Trump campaign is showing signs of promise, more than I have seen in a long time. It is growing in racial and social and historic significance. Trump himself is a problematic individual, no question. But he needs to be viewed not as a man but as an inevitable historical phenomenon, someone who had to happen, and in that department there is a chance he may actually accomplish something serious in the form of a kind of racial turning point for this continent, even if it’s an unintended consequence and even if I sure wish there was a bit more Huey Long and a bit less P. T. Barnum there.

The first and most obvious point is that Trump is demonstrating it's possible to defy political correctness and the left-loon media and cyber-assault and shaming machine. There have been a few guys who have done that before, notably Phil Robertson from Duck Dynasty, but this is in a much more significant context, an actual political context and not just the lefty filth jumping on somebody to destroy him and biting off more than they can chew and then quietly consigning the whole incident to the memory hole.

Trump is defying them every day, openly. He’s getting away with it, and every day he does that the liberal command and control apparatus gets weaker. It’s kind of like a dog killing chickens; he has to be put down because once he knows it can be done not only will he keep on doing it himself, but he may show the other dogs that it can be done.

But Trump can’t be put down by the dictatorship’s propaganda machine; they’re going to have to use other methods that run the risk of generating genuine rage and opposition among the still White majority despite it all. When they bring Trump down, as I suspect will happen in some way or other, White people will still have learned that lesson: that it is still possible to speak and not be destroyed.

* * *

There’s something else that is developing regarding the Donald Trump presidential campaign, one of those brief little firefly-like flickers of light that you see down through history, often as a kind of hint of what might have been before they flicker out. It's one of those minor things that might pan out or it might end up as just a footnote for the Chinese historians who will eventually chronicle the death and extinction of the White race.

Over the past couple of weeks, as part of all these primaries, Trump has held a number of public rallies all across the country, but especially in the South. During these rallies he has been repeatedly interrupted by small groups of niggers from #BlackLivesMatter and a few of their so-called White allies from the loony left, jumping up and down and yelling and screaming and hollering insults and filthy words, you know how they do.

This has kind of become expected during the 2016 campaign. These niggaz have even interrupted old hippie Bernie and the Hildebeest herself on a couple of occasions, and however fuming they must have been inside, on the outside they have taken it like humble little lambs, sitting their on their own platforms and allowing themselves to be scolded and lectured to by monkeys.

But when this same thing has happened at Donald Trump rallies, Trump has developed a way of dealing with it which I have to admit impresses me no end. I don’t know if he is actually stage-managing this tactic and he’s got special private security people in the crowd who are trained for it, or whether it’s something that happened spontaneously at this one rally for the first time in Houston, Texas if memory serves, and then Trump just adopted it.

What happens is that when one or more people, usually niggers, start jumping up and down and hollering and waving signs and generally chimping out in the middle of one of his functions, Trump just looks down his nose at them and kind of waves a hand and says to no one in particular “get him out of here!” Then about a dozen casually-dressed White men descend on the troublemakers and gently but firmly grasp their arms and as the saying goes, “escort them from the premises,” i.e. drag them out of the auditorium or the sports arena or whatever, and their horrible glutinous booga-booga voices are heard no more in the land.

This has happened on five or six occasions that I’m aware of. Like I said, I have no idea whether or not these incidents are choreographed. Trump is a master showman and they may well be. But choreographed or not, they are great optics for White people, and I hope Trump keeps it up.

Think about what we’re seeing here. Scripted or not, think about the message being conveyed here. What appears to be happening is that pale males, not cops but ostensibly ordinary White male citizens, are actually laying hands on stinky black asses and physically removing them from what the lefty-loons would call a White "safe space," which is language I can appreciate because it’s pretty accurate. That’s what niggers have been doing for over 60 years now, invading White people’s safe spaces, starting with Brown vs. Board of Education in 1954.

Think about this. When was the last time non-cop American White males physically laid hands on niggers and forced them to behave themselves?

Cops have that permission slip I have spoken of in the past. Permission from our Jewish and liberal lords and masters to display physical courage against non-Whites. They have that permission slip because it’s necessary. That’s actually what they’re there for, to keep negroid violence and savagery within some kind of livable bounds.

That’s the big dirty secret about cops that everybody in this society knows and nobody will speak out loud: the people who run this toilet understand that as genetically and as culturally useful as niggers and other primitive Third World people are in achieving the ultimate goals of the Agenda (capital A), the fact is they can’t simply be allowed to run wild and out of control, or else they’ll slaughter all the productive White people and burn and destroy all the means of production and then nothing will be left for anybody. The rich people's servants won't be able to come in to work because of all de bad niggaz making them afraid to leave their hovels. Can't have that.

Police forces are unofficially licensed to kill, to cull the nigger and mestizo herd, so to speak. The niggerized prison-industrial complex is a trade-off necessary to maintain the most basic social and economic order, as well as to maintain a faint fig leaf of pretense that something called “America” still exists. But in this mockery and hallucination of Obama’s America, only cops have that license, that permission slip that allows them to raise their hands against anyone with a dark skin, and even the cops losing some of that privilege and immunity over the past couple of years since the niggers have decided they want it all.

Let me ask you something: when was the last time non-cop Whiteboys confronted niggers and compelled them to stop what they were doing? When was the last time ordinary American pale males suddenly became actual White men long enough to raise their fists, at least in theatrical mode and by implication, and make any of these despicable people black or White who rule us stop what they were doing?

Do you see the significance of what I’m talking about here? Even if it’s not real, even if it’s all a stage play performed by actors hired by Donald Trump, it’s the optics. It’s what White people are seeing on their TV and internet screens that counts, and what they’re seeing is people who look like them successfully using physical force on the black primates and on bad people who support the current dictatorship, and successfully making them stop doing whatever vile thing they’re doing, even if it’s only a little bit of screaming obscene language.

Granted, only in the mildest of ways. True, no nappy heads have yet been cracked open and we haven’t seen the blood streaming down monkey-faces as they ook and eek in fear and pain. So far things haven’t escalated to the next level. The niggers and left-loons all leave voluntarily when the men at the Trump rally approach and touch them on the arm. Okay, they're still screaming their obscenities to be sure, and there's a little bit of shuffling that might kind of resemble dragging, but they leave with basically a touch on the arm.

That may not continue to be the case. I saw an article a couple of days ago claiming that the crowds of invading nigger and left-loon hecklers are getting larger and more vicious and more threatening, possibly including some good old-fashioned hired muscle brought in by the Cruz and/or Rubio campaigns or the American Enterprise Institute oligarchs to break up Trump’s rallies and terrorize his supporters.

The next obvious response by the Trump campaign will hopefully be to assemble a force of physically fit young men to protect the candidate’s functions and deal with people who are trying to interrupt and violate the rights of those attending, and that security force will need to be trained and prepared in all the 101 ways to go upside a nigger’s head. Or a Cultural Marxist's head. Is any of this starting to sound familiar? Can you say Sturmabteilung? Sure you can!

So, when will it escalate to the next level? When will we see on our television screen a Whiteboy or Whiteboys actually going upside the head of a #BlackLivesMatter nigger, and I’m speaking literally, as in blood flowing from a cracked-open nappy head and down a bubble-lipped monkey face?

And above all, when will we see either A) the Whiteboy or Whiteboys responsible for defending White Americans’ political rights and access to the political process not being arrested and prosecuted, or B) Donald Trump actually standing up for his followers who crack open nappy heads, coming up with their bail and providing them with dream team lawyers, etc.? In other words, an actual White leader who doesn’t just use us as disposable cannon fodder as if we were so many Ulstermen on the Somme.
    
* * *

Okay, let’s get back to the Donald Trump campaign and this phenomenon I was speaking about earlier, the one with the great optics where Whiteboys actually lay hands on monkoids and physically force them to leave White people alone and stop committing bad acts, or at least so it looks on TV, and this being America, how it looks on TV is what’s important.

We always seem to forget that about ourselves, or else we don’t want to admit that we’re that bloody shallow, but we are. To Americans, appearances are far, far more important than substance. We’re a mile wide and an inch deep. Why do you think Trump is so popular? One reason is he’s all hat and no cattle, as they say in Texas, and that’s deliberate, it’s part of his persona.

If you actually look at what he’s saying, politically speaking Trump’s campaign is 100 percent content-free, but no one minds because on every other level that counts, the emotional and spiritual level, he is telling White people what they want to hear, saying out loud what they themselves don’t dare to say. The very fact that Trump is so bitterly opposed by not just the Democrats but the RINOs, the Republican oligarchs, and the media etcetera works in his favor.

In short, the people who hate Trump are the same people who have fucked up this country for the past 50 years and everybody knows it, and they figure anybody this establishment despises like that can’t be all bad. And they’re right. Anyone who is this badly hated by the existing American power structure is somebody worth looking at, although as I’ve said before, I really wish Trump was just a little more cattle and a little less hat. I have to say again, no one really knows what the hell this man in fact believes, and that worries me.

But let’s get back to this phenomenon that has been observed at Trump rallies, wherein ostensibly normal everyday Whiteboys are to be seen actually laying hands on smelly niggers and forcing them to stop chimping out and physically removing them so other White people don’t have to see their ugly monkey-faces and hear their horrible booga-booga-booga voices.

The implications of this are staggering, it is such an unknown quantity. I’m trying right now to remember sometime in the past when I have seen this type of thing done by non-cop White civilians and I’m damned if I can remember any previous instance at all, except for when some White men banded together in the New Orleans airport during the Hurricane Katrina days to defend some White women from mass rape by nigger gangs, and even that wasn’t much more than some scuffling when the niggers wandered off looking for easier prey and the military showed up soon after.

These Trump guys are achieving the dream of every White high school student in America, a classroom or auditorium when the niggers will forced to shut the hell up and you can hear what the hell the teacher is saying and try to think about it without simian screeches and threats and intimidation and dancing orang-outangs.

That’s something I never had for three years at Chapel Hill High School, a simple quiet classroom where I could listen to what the teacher was saying, and so as childish as it might seem, these guys at the Trump rally really resonate with me. In a sense I’ve been waiting for this all my life. I have been forced to wait for 45 years for someone to finally make these goddamned niggers shut up. As limited as these little vignettes from the Trump rallies have been, I know how that makes me feel, and I can guess how that makes countless millions of other White people feel, many of whom have suffered much worse from these animals than I ever have.

The lefty-loons on Salon and the Hufflepuff and the Daily Beast are ranting about these episodes of nigger cleansing, but not so much as you might think. Either they are deliberately downplaying it because they know it will simply add to Trump’s popularity, or else they genuinely don’t understand the significance of it, but I personally suspect that in a so far quiet way, one of the things that is keeping Trump as front-runner is this public presentation of White men forcing niggers to be quiet and to leave. You have no idea how powerful an image that is to White people, how much White people long to see this.

I wish I could give it to you. I sometimes ask you guys in our RFN audience what the hell you want or expect from me, but that’s kind of a rhetorical question. Actually, I do know what you want from me, and I wish to hell I could give it to you. Unfortunately I can’t do that without the two things that you guys won’t give me, a lot of money and a lot of boots on the ground.

For God’s sake, can we at least be honest about one thing without my getting arrested for radicalizing youth or whatever? Hell, let’s give it a shot and say out loud one of those uncomfortable facts that everybody knows perfectly well is true.

What American White people really want is to see blood flow. Liberal blood, faggot blood, politician blood, attorney blood, media blood, but above all nigger blood. White people hate liberals and faggots and politicians and attorneys and social workers and media Barbie dolls, but above all they hate niggers and want to watch them suffer and die. That is of course, on their TV screens where it is physically safe, where they themselves don’t have to incur any risk or inconvenience and so they can disclaim any responsibility or involvement. 

You folks want the pleasure of watching the wicked people who have so terribly hurt you suffer and scream in pain and die, but you are ashamed and afraid to admit that you want justice and revenge for a lifetime of oppression and injury. You want to watch them burn in hell but do it vicariously, so you can distance yourselves and experience the pleasure and the satisfaction while convincing others and yourself that it’s nothing to do with you, and you are not a bad person.

Well, no, actually, you’re not bad people, you know. There is nothing at all wrong with you wanting to see these American scum punished for the way they have contaminated life itself. Liberals and Democrats and attorneys and affirmative action supervisors and petty bureaucrats and corrupt police and lawyers and judges and the media and the dictator’s bureaucrats, and everybody involved with this system generally, are Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!

The human offal who control the United States of America have ruined your lives in a hundred ways. They've probably murdered some people you know. They’re engaged in torturing the whole world right now and they consciously serve evil in exchange for obscenely huge six-figure salaries direct-deposited into their bank accounts every two weeks. Guys, these people are the ones who are genuinely bad, and yes, they deserve to suffer and die in punishment for everything they’ve done. The fact that they’re not being punished is what puts the world so karmicly out of whack. There is nothing wrong with you wanting to see them punished; it is human and understandable and it’s right.

You just have to understand that unless you decide to become part of the script instead of just a spectator at the play, most likely you’re not going to get to see these swine kicking and strangling in the air, or with their heads on the iron spikes of the White House fence, or running screaming down the street with burning rubber tires around their necks, or however you view justice. Those are like all optics; somebody actually has to do the work to produce the effect.

You people want it for nothing. You want to see the show without paying the price of admission, in any sense of the term. I can’t make you that promise, which is basically why the Northwest Front isn’t going anywhere. What you want, I cannot give you with what you have given me to work with. Unlike Donald Trump, we’re all cattle and no hat at all. No money to buy the hat and nobody is willing to come here and wear the hat even if I could get hold of one; they prefer to stay at home and watch the electronic screens.

Like I said, I can’t promise you guys that I will ever be able to give you the kind of must-see TV that you want. But Donald Trump can make you that promise, and he can do so credibly, because he has what I do not, billions of dollars with which he can buy the boots on the ground. That is an incredible resource to have in this society; again I have to say I wish I knew a little bit more about what’s really going on in Trump’s mind.

Down through the years I have spoken of this bizarre character trait that seems to have been socially engineered into White people, not just in America but from all around the world. I refer to our apparently pathological inability to commit a single act of actual, physical resistance against people who are trying to exterminate us as a race. This applies to politicians and media bitches and of course the men in the black body armor themselves, but it applies primarily to dark-skinned people, above all niggers.

A woman comrade of ours up here in the Homeland once remarked to me that White people are rule-obeyers. For the past two or three generations there has been imposed on our minds a hard and fast rule: you do not get physical or aggressive or even disrespectful in any way against someone with a dark skin. When that has to be done, as it often does, you are to do nothing except pick up the phone and call the police.

You never so much as think of touching a weapon, even if you have one. If there is a problem with someone dark, if you can hear Jamal and Ernesto moving around downstairs and smell them shitting on your sofa, you call the police, end of story, and if they don’t get there in time you take your beat-down or your rip-off or your sexual assault or your death quietly, in repentance for slavery, rather than be a racist and raise your hand to someone with a dark skin.

No matter what they do, no matter if they steal from you right under your nose, no matter if they are screaming filthy words at the top of their lungs and smashing the fixtures and excreting on the floor, no matter if they are imminently about to hurt you or someone you care about, you do not raise your hand to someone with a dark skin. That is racist, and you don’t get to be racist. It’s not allowed.

You do not have a permission slip. Cops and only cops have a very limited situational permission slip to use physical force against people with dark skins. You have none, and there are plenty of White men in prison cells tonight who didn’t get that.

When you draw the short straw, as most of us pale people do at least once in our lives, our role is to sit meekly and quietly and take whatever the dark-skins wish to do to us, and hope to God the police with their permission slips arrive in time.

To do otherwise is to risk the ultimate punishment, the punishment of the White racist, and we are made to understand this from childhood on, with every word that falls from our electronic devices into our young ears and every idea that is conveyed to us from our masters.

We are instilled from birth with a hard-wired certainty that to violate this rule means that we are wicked and evil racists who must be shunned and shut out and cast out from the herd. We must be denied the right to earn a living or to own nice stuff, and denied all sexual and emotional contact with women of our own race because we are so wicked as to hate and hurt the poor dark-skinned people. Any children we have must be taken from us by the law, because we might corrupt them with our wicked hate, so forth and so on. 

The dictatorship of course knows that they can get away with treating pale males like this because they know we won’t resist them either. And if they didn’t know it before, the Bundy brothers proved it down in Oregon in January. The dictator’s servants now know it’s all bluff and we won’t actually fire on them. The White man doesn’t kill his enemies any more, and everybody concerned knows it.

But do you remember some things I have said on RFNs past, regarding who can write these permission slips for pale males to actually raise their hand against a beast with a turd-colored skin? Some of you may recall that down through the years I actually predicted Trump before Trump came along, as a man who would have sufficient juice and moral authority to write permission slips for Whiteboys to be brave again, even in a non-police context. I said something about such a man being both a billionaire and arising from the world of celebrity, remember?

I think Donald Trump is beginning to approach the level of moral authority to where he can write permission slips. These little bits of street theater at his rallies where pale males actually lay hands on stinking black carcasses and force them out of sight could be test balloons of a sort, something Trump is trying to see how much he can get away with, to test the waters as it were. It may be that in view of what the oligarchs are planning on doing to Donald Trump to deny him the nomination, Trump is toying with the idea of writing out a few permission slips.

I can tell you all day and all night that it’s all right to be brave in your quest for freedom here in the Northwest, but that’s no good. My four or five thousand hits per week don’t give me permission-slip-writing authority. Donald Trump’s billions of dollars do.

Right now The Donald is writing permission slips for pale males to carry out minor removal procedures on a few ugly nigger faces. No biggie there. But suppose down the road it looks like the power structure just plain refuses to let The Donald come in and play?

Would he do it? Would he write the Big Permission Slip itself? As many doubts as I have about the man, I have to say, if he did, it would finally change the game.