“Fear not what this people fears, and do not call conspiracy what this people call conspiracy” (Isaiah 8:12).
Praefactio
Parents are the enemy of children. The society parents tolerate and inure their offspring to belong to is the enemy of children. As a child and as a man, the human being is on this earth that he may know, love, and enjoy his Creator here and hereafter. Nothing of bourgeois parenting inclines towards this holy and wholesome telos. What exists, if it exist at’ll, is sentimentality.
Into the vacuum of actual charity towards children, that which would tend towards their theosis, a worthless mania for “child protection” has obtained. This has metastasized around the Middle Class’s favorite topic: their fascination with morbid sexual crimes, in this case of such sins towards children. Within the paradigms of Liberalism, the Sexual Revolution, and telephonia, adult-child sexual relations must be permitted. Anything to the contrary is arbitrary sentimentality.
The rub is that the parents of this kingdom are copper fastened to the errors of Liberalism, the Sexual Revolution, and telephonia. No matter how religious or conservative they fancy themselves, the each and all of them would rather commit seppuku than give up the above errors. They are far too warm and pleasant. Thus, any concern for “child protection” in this society is fundamentally arbitrary, sentimental, and unstable.
Our spiritual, civil, and cultural enemies are strong and wise and wary; they will, as they have, exploit our incoherence on this point to hang us. “Child protection,” and the misculture it has created, is a crafty agenda which has been growing since the 1980s. Its purpose is to undermine grassroots trust, that strangers and the systems of strangers may grow from strength to strength.
Either we give up the errors of Liberalism, the Sexual Revolution, and telephonia, and we view and verb everything related to the child, including safety, in light of his divine telos, or we continue to cleave to the above errors and watch our bogus fetish of “child protection” become a gallows the archons will hang us from.
This agenda of “child protection” will soon be turned back on parents and children alike to make greater peons of them yet. The parents of this kingdom lust to be slaves; they move might and main that their children be the same. Wanting to be slaves comfortable and warm and respected, slaves they shall be. God knows, those useless bastards haven’t treated me well, at least the Connecticut ones. In a grouchy and an honest mood, I say may their chains sit safely. Ah, but this needn’t be so.
Introduction
When I was a little bit younger, there was in America an humorous cartoon called King Of The Hill. One of the running plotlines of that show was a character, Dale by name, who was paranoid in the manner – come to think of it – we were then being conditioned to react to conspiracy theorists in se (which is to say, with mockery). If I’m not mistaken, in fact, the term “conspiracy theorists” is a lovingly-crafted “cognitive shutdown term” ginned up by our platonic archons at Langley. I should think we will have occasion to examine the use of language in our time together here.
Well, in any case, this King Of The Hill show had a character named Dale, and this Dale was always seeing black helicopters and aliens and spooks behind every bush.
Paralleling this Dale and his interests was another on-going storyline, and that was that Dale’s wife was running about with a tall, muscular masseuse-cum-rocker, an Indian named John Redcorn. Dale’s son looked nothing like him, and everything like John Redcorn. The gag, of course, was that whilst Dale was enmeshed with nefarious happenings far afield, domestic mischief was happening right under his nose.
Now, whatever we might say about Dale’s depiction and the intention behind it, there were truths that show’s creators were on about; namely, pride goes before the fall, and we can be so wrapped-up in problems over there we fail to see errors closer to home. Christ said this was seeing the speck in another’s eye, or the “mote” in the charming old translations, whilst failing to see the beam in one’s own. These are proverbial truths, but because they are so common and so commonsensical, almost as if to prove their validity, we overlook them.
It is a marvel and a wonder that men who are able to palpitate mischief in certain social combinations are unable to do so in other scenarios. Thus pride goes before the fall, and once again we smug are shown up. For, you see, the same control system which killed JFK, attacked the Liberty, double-crossed Saddam, blew up the Twin Towers, and staged Newtown has craftily cultivated the native paranoia of the bourgeoisie into great swells of anxiety about the safety of children.
The Feint
This wicked ass kingdom will whipsaw faster than you can blink. We saw this in triplicate during the Covid days, but it really has been going on for centuries. It bellied up to the churches in the Sixteenth Century, and dropped them in the Nineteenth when they had served it purposes; it bellied up to the working class after the Churchill-Roosevelt Aggression, and dropped them in the Seventies of the last century; it bellied up to men of my teaching vocation in the Nineteenth Century, and within our lifetime – you mark my words – these archons will drop mass schooling en masse.
Likewise, we thought—innocents, we—that the digital control net would come down from, for lack of a better term, Leftists. We saw how the enemy ruling class spent the last decade using the Antifa and DEI and “the SJW Left” to effect their control. We imagine this would continue, that they would use hirelings when they ran out of punks, crossdressers, communists, and race radicals, oily of hair and thick with patchouli and body musk, to steer a population they regard only because we serve for the moment as their war slaves and tax cows.
The digital control net is coming down. We saw this, and we thought we were wise. We were fools. This was a pantomime. We were had. That we were tricked by such unimpressive tyrants as the Dainty Davies in Silicon Valley and Langley serves us right for pride goes before the fall, and we are a prideful lot.
A Shot Across The Bow
How this theme presented itself is an interesting thing altogether.
As you know, the teacher is always thinking about the future. Whenever a break in the daily rhythm presents itself, we latch on it not for recreation or leisure (which would be sensible indeed) but to catch up on the interminable pile of back-of-the-house work. The Easter holiday of this year of grace presented one such “reprieve” for me.
Amidst the various video uploads I tasked myself with was one concerning naturism, a group in advocacy of which Apocatastasis Institute maintains. It was the thumbnail which did us in.
This picture I used was of two naked boys holding two kittens was taken at the 2009 summer Youth Camp at Sunsport Gardens in Florida. The children don’t seem to be annoyed to be on camera (and the camps always have a photographer, usually another camper), their parents obviously enrolled them in the camp, Sunsport’s authorities evidently saw no problem with this photo, and neither did I. Everyone concerned with this photo was pleased with its composition and its use, everyone except a third party altogether unconcerned with any of the above. It is this third party, Google by name, and their Langley master’s intention and spirit I mean to palpitate in this treatment. These sadsome people mean by manipulation of your fears to insert their jurisdiction into the each and all aspects of life.
That photography, that beauty, triggered that company’s algorithm. Within an hour the school’s YouTube channel was knocked out; within two hours our tertiary Gmail address and one of our computers; within a day, other Institution property digitally linked to that California company. That time was vexing.
Foresooth, men of a softer constitution might well have been overawed and stressed by such behavior. The constant reentering of usernames and passwords since, and the miniscule amount of storage we have left on the Chromebooks – for the conveyor belt of all school uploads was halted in midcourse, and those fat files are saved in our now inaccessible former Gmail – these things were Kafkaesque. Finally, the reeveing of what text documents were housed with that silicone combination was an annoyance. That was all.
Ah, but the bastards could never really touch us. Their behavior could have had catastrophic effects on the college had we been fool enough to connect anything more than was strictly demanded by the jerks at Google to operate, for you know that certain of these machines will simply not work without signing into that company’s email account (the better to track us with, my dear). Our business phone, for example, can only be used with a Gmail address; the same of course goes for the Chromebooks. This was a sobering example of how much power these strangers have over our lives.
Heartily do I caution everyone to diversify their online “footprint” over as many sites and platforms as possible. The time is coming when decisions as stark as the Covid days will present themselves concerning our online liberty. Decide what your “red line” will be, acquire and refurbish old tech, make provisions to retire to the maligned “dark web”, or quit the Internet entirely upon that occasion, and stick to your guns even should the heavens fall. No more can we do.
I say this First World saga of mine was “Kafkaesque,” and so it was. This is on account of two things. The first is, however much I may mock the Dainty Davies who run Silicon Valley, at once physically weak, spiteful on this account, and thus tyrannical in the exercise of any power given them (as all court eunuchs have been observed to be since Adam walked the Highlands), the reality is that at no point was I ever dealing with anything but robots. It was robots which flagged my thumbnail, it was robots which shut down what they did, and it was to robots we were bid to vainly make appeal. The second point justifying the above adjective is that the same power structure which attempted to cut us off at the knees on account of child safety – for certainly something foul was interpreted by the robots in my use of the boys’ image – is manifestly aggressive towards children at every moment of their lives.
America is a masonic plantation, the singular aim of which is to extract as much wealth from the population as possible. If you do not swallow this bitter truth you will go mad trying to make sense of this kingdom. From the womb to the tomb the enemy ruling class does what it can to adulterate the souls and bodies of children until there is nothing left by fifteen or twenty years of age but the husk of a man, a veritable adulterated adult, a thing fit only to be a New Fairfield ghostwriter. The every provision and inclination of this society is calibrated toward this end. As such, this power structure could hardly advocate for child protection from a place of sincerity. There is another plan afoot to harness this concern for alien ends.
Now, before we take one bless’d step more, however, I wish to full-throatedly reiterate what I said at the time: whatever annoyances attended Google’s behavior towards the Institute on this occasion, annoyances in certain ways – First World problems though the be – even to this day, I am not one bit repentant to any god or man for posting that beautiful photo to accompany that beautiful video I uploaded.
Furthermore, I emphatically assert that the morbidity, discomfort, and distortions attendant upon the topic of nudity in this kingdom form an agenda as carefully crafted by the archons as any of the hundred, and a hundred times a hundred, other lies our misrulers abuse us with. Nay, insofar as this topic deals with our very person and those of our fellows, that is topic is not a matter of far away history or conspiracy, it is a greater lie that the hundred which come to mind, and thus it deserves more than usual attention, refusal, and correction.
Mighty Anniversaries
The Immaculate God and his blessed mother have always favored the happenings of this Connecticut work with mighty anniversaries. In doing this they have drawn the Institute into the great pageant of ecclesial and republican triumph. They would do as much with you (if you but knew).
Apocatastasis was established, as you know, on Holy Saturday of 2013; irrevocably connecting the work of personal and cultural renewal in the classroom with the great mythological themes of Easter and the 1916 Rising. That struggling ghostwriter Alexander The Coopersmith and his wife Hind The Livereater, that couple known locally as “New Fairfield’s Shame,” pulled their telephone stunt on the Memorial of St. Anthony Of Padua. On that happy day the Good Lord was able to sift from this work a good deal of dead weight and test the mettle of many of God’s holy professors, both the feckless and the true.
And so this Google annoyance. It occurred on April 19th, the Feast Of Sts. David Koresh & Companions, Martyrs. On this happy, happy day when all redblooded men, and free, recall the glorious stand bold David and his family made in the face of overwhelming masonic violence God kindly gave us a drop from the chalice of suffering for right and beauty, if suffering the Silicon Valley eunuchs could mount.
Pastor David
All you people don’t know about David Koresh. You have high school degrees, and you have college degrees; you have stocks and you have bonds and dividends; you have religion and three ex-wives, and you have your fags and whiskey and your goddamn Latin Mass, and you’d not let a month go by without your Netflix; the smart asses among you have a whole gaggle of podcasts you like to listen to, and you’re smugger than a New Fairfield ghostwriter for it. You think those things give you inside info. You think you could never be had. Ah, you bunch have all that but don’t know about David Koresh. Well, I know about Pastor David.
Saint David was a mighty man. He come out of the Texas protestants.
Now the American protestants are the most cracked bunch of people you ever saw. This appraisal is primarily on account of their being American; only secondarily do their religious opinions account for this. As it happens there are certain enthusiasms which Americans are prone to which become explosive when touched to things spiritual. Geliganite is just putty without a detonator, you know.
Their granddaddies during the Reformation were so fanatical and tedious that even the European protestants couldn’t stand them. They dumped these guys on the American Indians hoping they’d be scalped and tomahawked sooner or later, and that the Indians would relieve the Europeans of these argumentative people. It didn’t quite work out that way. Soon all the Indians were dead and the protestants took over.
Now, the funny thing is, sooner or later all protestants become Jews. They don’t want the Christian heritage, they don’t want the Fathers and Councils and Liturgy. The problem, however, is that the holy Bible has all sorts of principles but almost no advice on how to implement them. What exactly does “keeping holy” the Sabbath entail? In my daily life, what does it mean to “pray always”?
What ends up happening to American protestants, when they soon or late are confronted with the inscrutable blindspots of “perspicuity,” is that they either lose faith altogether, or, with tears of relief in their eyes, they latch on to the fantastic doctrines and sophistry of Judaism believing the rabbis to be in possession of any sort of biblical truth. Before you know it you and your children are circumcised and not eating pork and blowing those goddamned horns the TV preachers are always peddling; you don’t pray on Sunday anymore, but on Saturday, and you’re learning that Yiddish the rabbis tell you is Hebrew. Your grandpappies saw the pope in Rome as a foreign potentate interfering in the Christian liberty of Queen Bess’ realm, ah, but there are no such scruples as you hoist Herzl’s banner now from your raised ranch.
One of the things which eventually also happens to these American-style protestants is that they become polygamists. It’s biblical, after all.
Now this topic of multiple wives has consistently caused problems with the state. You may recall something called the Mormon War from history class. The Republican Party, actually, was originally created in the wake of the Mormon polygamy crisis. That opposition made sense. Monogamy is only truly comprehensible in a Christian context. America in the Nineteenth Century was a protestant Christian country, and thus in that context the Mormons ran afoul of a moral and protestant people.
Monogamy in post-Christian America makes no sense; it only continues because of the force of habit, utility, and a juvenile and sentimental appraisal of romance. To advocate for polygamy is certainly not my mind. I simply state a cold spiritual and sociological point: monogamy is only cognizable and metaphysically meaningful – not merely practical – within a genuinely Christian society. In no sense whatsoever are contemporary Americans truly monogamous, because in no sense are contemporary Americans truly Christian.
Thus, it is common for our people to drag a psychic train of former lovers and broken hearts, and a real train of mechanical abortions and venereal diseases into their forlorn and defiled marriage bed by the time Suzie Q bags Billy Beta and his bucks, and they trot down to their local town hall Freemason for their commercial marriage certificate. Insofar as this generation is monogamous, it is only serially monogamous, not actually monogamous.
Ah, but the state didn’t have it in for St. David on account of his religious beliefs concerning holy matrimony. They hated David because he was a non-hacker, and totalitarians will not stand non-hackers. The polygamy bit was good for the scumsuckers on CNN to dwell upon on account it allowed their disgusting bourgeois viewers to project all their tawdry lusts on these poor Texas protestants. However judaized and eccentric those Seventh Day Adventists in Waco were, they were men and they were honest, and that’s all you can ask from a life well lived.
Anyway, you remember how the Feds really botched the murder of Randy Weaver’s family six months before Waco. That whole thing out in Idaho was back for optics on Plato’s Cave Wall, so they come up with the Koresh plan to be a P.R. boon for the FBI and ATF. Those were unscrupulous days. The Clinton crime family was in charge (and we all know who wore the pants in that marriage). A power couple which didn’t blush to whore and kill and maim their way from Little Rock to Washington wouldn’t blush to harry a family man down by Mexico.
So the Clinton war slaves showed up one fine day to drive auld David down, they come in by the dozen and by the hundred and by the thousand. In cattle cars they came, and armed to the teeth. They had tried in vain to set up our hero by selling him hand grenades and machine guns and bazookas. Ah, but Pastor David was onto the devils at every step because Pastor David was filled with the Holy Spirit at every step. And if the foe was wise and crafty and cunning, David cut through the tangles and traps of hell. He was never duped by the dupes of Satan.
When those criminals came to St. David’s door, and they began shooting through that door, the hirelings didn’t know the wrath which came down upon their heads. If David wasn’t Francis Marion, b’god wasn’t he Zarqawi. How the war slaves of the ATF and FBI wished they were back in the arms of their boyfriends; back in jail and Yale, and back harassing softer men for pounds of pelf. Time and time again the Christians of Waco drove back these hordes of Freemason police. B’god, didn’t the enemy commanders of Washington strip all the Walmarts around of their inventory of Depends, so crushed were the spirits of their hireling police! B’god, every undertaker in Texas could send his son to college with the work David gave ‘em that day! B’god, there was a man!
Sure, years later, when it was time for the titans of the Taliban and the Iraqi insurgency to kick the war slaves of the UNITED STATES corporation from pillar to post, it was by watching the footage of David’s men in battle, and by talking to what old Adventists were still kicking around Texas, that the Musselmen learned everything they needed to know for victory.
Well did Virgil write all those years ago, almost as in prophecy, of St. David and the Carmel Christians,
What god can tell, what numbers can display,
The various labours of that fatal day;
What chiefs and champions fell on either side,
In combat slain, or by what deaths they died;
Whom Turnus, whom the Trojan hero kill’d;
Who shar’d the fame and fortune of the field!
Jove, could’st thou view, and not avert thy sight,
Two jarring nations join’d in cruel fight.
Having nearly run out of ammunition, and having filled every grave plot in Texas, the situation for the enemy Feds was becoming dire. Mutinies of entire companies and regiments of ATF and FBI were reported daily; even brigade-level spook formations were laying down their arms and refusing further action against the doughty Texas protestants. These cowards were identifiable from the strong smell of excreta coming from their drawers. And all the while, how the Christians conducted themselves with iron discipline and with cheer, suing for peace with their defeated enemy at every opportunity (ah, hear them singing hymns of praise above the battle’s red roar).
Eventually the Fed’s position got so bad that Hilary Clinton commanded President Bill to put on his blue dress (usually reserved for special events like Epstein parties), turn-over the White House limo, and personally drive Lon Horiuchi from the Washington bathhouse where he lived to the Waco battlefield.
Now, Horiuchi was a merciless Oriental, a fanatic trained in the most coldblooded mannerisms of the east. His father was the mastermind of the Rape Of Nanking and his grandfather some times over was the mastermind of the Rape Of Lucretia; in between were a thousand generations of scoundrels bred from the breast for war and rapine. The cold eyes of that Chinaman looked across the plain at the Carmel church as Lon Horiuchi’s father once looked at the Garden of Eden in Bible times. As before, so now: innocence would be ground down by baseness.
After months of siege, mining and countermining, and a fair amount of libel from the CNN organization, the Feds were getting low on ammo and cannon fodder. You don’t end up as a police pig because of your love of hard work, you know. So they turned a trick on David and the saints, and set the Carmel church on fire. With flamethrower and with incendiary, with mattock and with polearm, Clinton’s barking war slaves fell upon the holy church in a butchery the brutality of which scarce has been seen since the days of Scipio and Tamerlane. The Asiatic monster Horiuchi was said to have personally doused the property with petrol and lit the match which burned God’s holy church to the ground. Astaghfirullah!
How we recoil to hear the slithering police tell the Christian women and children to come out the back under a flag of truce, and them to be mercilessly machine gunned. How we recoil to remember the gassing of the babies (feel their little nails grasp your neck amidst the smoke), the immolation of the wounded as they desperately crawled away from the flames (how painful is your body as it blisters in the fire), the sniping of teenagers from masonic helicopters buzzing about (how your face is cut by glass as enemy slugs smash into your bone), and all the time fetid lies and calumny heaped upon bold Pastor David by a cynical and collaborating press corp (hear the bulldozers – the beast Horiuchi leading the van – as the Feds plow under the evidence of their crimes like Carthage of old or Newtown of now).
Arrah, well did Milton mourn these sacred Texans,
Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughter’d saints, whose bones
Lie scatter’d on the Alpine mountains cold,
Ev’n them who kept thy truth so pure of old,
When all our fathers worshipp’d stocks and stones;
Forget not: in thy book record their groans
Who were thy sheep and in their ancient fold
Slain by the bloody Piemontese that roll’d
Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans
The vales redoubl’d to the hills, and they
To Heav’n. Their martyr’d blood and ashes sow
O’er all th’ Italian fields where still doth sway
The triple tyrant; that from these may grow
A hundred-fold, who having learnt thy way
Early may fly the Babylonian woe.
Virgil said that two jarring nations fought at Waco. Yes, two nations fought to the death at that Carmel church: the kingdom of God, which is the kingdom of children (by grace and by chronology), and the kingdom of Satan, which is the kingdom of adulterated adults (by legality and chronology).
All this is to say that when the US government-cum-Google harried us on April 19th for using that beautiful image of beautiful boys it was an easy thing to identify the hand behind it, for that selfsame hand was most bloody that very day in ‘93. Hell, too, has its feast days. The episcopal devils who preside now in Silicon Valley once ministered in Little Rock and Waco. Hell, too, has its apostolic succession.
Something Else
Returning to the events of April of this year, no, nay, never does this kingdom do anything to protect children. Any claim to the contrary is a feint. The pretended masters of this society are many things; academically we call them capitalists or Liberals. For four hundred years and five this clique has moved might and main to unmoor the each and all peoples of this earth from its native bloodlines, religions, languages, customs, and stability. They have spared no expense, energy, or hour from this goal. For them men and societies of men are completely interchangeable. On the natural plain this is to make a proletariat which can be sloshed about the world chasing whatever market fads and political designs strike these misrulers as expedient.
In the context of this agenda we place “child protection.” The people of this land own nothing after registration, and we are bid register everything with the capitalists’ Bar Association. We and our fellows do not own our marriage, neither our children; we don’t own our businesses (and we’re like’ as not jobbers anyway); were we to pay it off our mortgage this very afternoon, we would still never have allodial (true) ownership of our dwelling, would we only have purchased the crumbs of temporary LEGAL rights; we don’t own our car, neither our pets; increasingly, on account of “Terms Of Service,” we do not even own the mass produced appliances which are designed to break after a few years anyhow. I’ve said it before and I say it again: North America is a plantation designed to suck as much wealth – and this is spiritual and psychic wealth as soon as material – as possible from the forlorn denizens of this land. It is a well-calibrated machine to suck the life from slaves. On the supernatural plain miscegenation, spiritual apathy, and familial and cultural amnesia are the order of the day because, as grace builds on nature, it is almost impossible for such poor devils as fall under the heel of the archons to have any serious relationship with their Creator.
Externally, this mania for child protection, particularly concerning sexual deviants, is a considered tool of the enemy ruling class. There is no better solution – “solution” being an English noun coming from the Latin verb “solvere,” to break up or dissolve – to the bonds of blood and faith and neighbor as fear. You must scare the hell out of the population if they are ever to become malleable capital to slosh about. From the knee and from the breast we have been warred up; we own nothing; our feelings of belonging have been carefully undermined. Such people are desperate for any stability, and this largely takes the form of an affection, almost completely sentimental, for one’s socially acceptable number of offspring. It is to snatch away this last plank of normalcy our neighbors clutch that the agenda of “child protection” has been built up these last fifty years.
The archons mean to mold society, a thing these bastards consider a true tabula rasa, a thing as plastic and malleable as Play-Doh, to whatever needs and ends they please. We stopped reading books when they gave us screens. Ah, but our enemies still read books. One of the books they read and reread is entitled Changing Images Of Man. That title is all you need to know about your foe and his designs for you and yours. It is a heavy thing, dear parent, to announce that the natural affection you have towards your children is being used to put the noose around your own neck. A culture of “child protection” has one, and only one, result: the undermining of social trust. When this recedes, as day follows night, the state and confederated third-party interests will fill the void.
It happens, however, that unlike many of the tools of The Agenda, the vast umbrella of potential topics which can fit “child protection” are seen as being politically neutral or, because of certain culture war topics and a steering of the 501(c)(3) corporate whore churches and Conservative Inc., or right wing. People who view themselves as conservative often have, if not an outright martyr complex, then something of the psychology of a shipwreck victim. Sure, don’t I myself? Having survived the travails of life and thought, these people arrive through a happy coincidence of fertility and capital holding a few babies by the close of their childbearing years. It is because these people often have seen through many lies of modern society that they cannot see that their anxieties are being marshalled against them.
The Principle & Foundation
Right Revelation and clear thinking tell us that as a child and as a man, every person on this earth is meant to dwell in a state of grace, in communion with their Creator. The holy Church affirms as much in its holy catechisms and conduct. The indwelling of man here and hereafter which his Maker is the principle and foundation from which every subject and decision must be viewed. This telos requires excellence in spirit and action.
Now, amongst the near limitless activities which the sons of Adam fill out their days is childrearing. It stands that everything concerning the child also be viewed through the lens of this principle and foundation. But the right rearing of youth is not seen in this manner at’ll. There is nothing of the holy, the fair, and the excellent in the way these people raise their children, and, sure, there is a damn sight worse awaiting those babbies when they enter the world of adulterated adults. There is no telos to these people’s childrearing; there is a cunningly crafted system of trauma engineered from our unseen archons, and this papered over by saccharine sentimentality from parents. This bounty, if bounty it be, is what the “protected” children of this kingdom may enjoy.
Alas, here, as with so much within that soul which holds both bourgeois and Christian values – and it must always be in this order with them – there is confusion. Children are pets for the middle class. They are expensive playthings and accessories to what those people are told is expected of them come their mid years. If their priest is a screen they will have two or three children, if their priest is fleshly and hails from one of the more strident fragments of 501(c)(3) McChristianity they will have many more children, but it is social pride which moves them both. It is only because of the capitalists’ careful planning that fertility and money flows have become so restricted that men literally cannot have, or afford to have, any children in our day. With pathos, not with scorn, do we embrace those young people who earnestly refer to their animal pets as their, “fur babies.”
Now, how dare I say children are pets for the bourgeois, religious as soon as secular. No, really, how do I know this? Because for twenty years and twenty one I have watched them each and all; I have listened to the words come out their mouths, watched the work of their hands, and observed the cut of man they mold at the end of it.
Children are pets of the bourgeois, it matters not how “black pilled,” conservative, or pious they imagine themselves. The Principle And Foundation requires excellence. The children these people rear are not excellent; they have made a thousand compromises with the Joneses, and Satan besides.
The child is a pet to these people, and this means parents’ relationship to their offspring is sentimental. So what is sentimentality? Sentimentality is emotion without action. It is to cry for the fictional character on the stage and to tell the very real bum in the parking lot to not loiter. Sentimentality is an hateful thing. Man must be an integral being; a complete person is to find his thoughts and emotions correspond perfectly with his actions. If there is ever a divergence between one’s internal thoughts and their external behaviors, this person does not have integrity. A sentimental soul is not a person of integrity.
I’ve told you the story before. For many years I worked as a dish washer and line cook at a dive bar in Brookfield. It was backbreaking work, but b’god it made a man of me. Now, you can’t have long sleeves when you dish wash; you’d soon be getting arthritis that way, and that bar sure wasn’t giving us medical coverage. So what I’ve have to do in the Connecticut winters is wear ten and fifteen t-shirts on a shift, because come summer or come winter restaurant kitchens have a big fan in the back which sucks the heat away. You’d need all those shirts, you see.
Now one day ‘round abouts twenty-and-twelve the Zionists went into Gaza to rough up the Musselmen again. This was broadcast into the dining room. Long will I be forgetting the scene of the diners happily stuffing their faces whilst the Arabs were being blown to kingdom come on the TVs above their heads. Those fat Americans, and the lot besides, have a custom of finishing their phone calls with “I love you.”
This ersatz emotion which lies in their breast and flies from their tongue – we dare not call it actual love – is sentimental. On what account do we make such a presumptuous statement? Based on their ambivalence to what was before their eyes. The appropriate response to what was before them in that dining room was to vomit, after that to raise Cain until their participation in that genocide via their civil leaders cease, and after that to succor the violated. Ah, but the dissonance of that dining room is repeated a thousand times in a thousand towns through the land every day.
Yes, sentimentality is feeling without action. This is an hateful thing. It is this hateful sentimentality which describes the fundamental position of the bourgeois to his child in this kingdom. The child cannot truly be loved by a bourgeois parent, for that “love” is really sentimentality in drag. The child can only be sentimentally loved, thus he is a pet. To wit…
Does This Redound?
Beware the appeal to protect children. Such a route will not accomplish its aim, and it will leave you a damn sight more enfettered. We know, in any case, that the protection of children is not a sincere aim of this kingdom because of the litany of violences which we do tolerate. Many of these are at least as serious as the typical anxieties around intoxicants, sexual generosity, and intellectual growth which the middle class concerns itself with as regards their offspring; many of the following tolerances are graver by far.
The very conception of the child in this kingdom is a marvel. As the females of this society fritter away their youth chasing capital and Chad, by the time their looks and their eggs fade at twenty-three or twenty-four and they start looking for some easy money from Billy Beta to marry, and by the time poor Billy has scraped together enough Federal Reserve Notes to obtain a respectable dwelling for his aging queen, the female might be thirty-five or forty. Any issue from such dust-filled amorous congresses will like as not produce a retard (who will be mercilessly slaughtered by his wicked-ass parents), or, worse yet, a chronological adult of weakened constitution.
For their part, the males of this time and clime almost always wear the heartless brand of Judaism, the miserable circumcision, on their body. If by chance the plastics in the water and the numbing desensitization eventually wrought by Rockefeller “medicine” do not render this male of reproductive years impotent, and actually doubly if this faculty has been restored by a combination of fearsome chemicals, the sperm dispatched to conceive the female’s remaining old and dusty eggs will have to swim through a bath of lubricating chemicals to complete its thankless mission.
Does any of this redound to the child’s dignity and protection? What in this creature’s conception redounds to his worth?
The fetus, if he should in fact be conceived, and if he is not aborted for any reason whatsoever by his worthless parents – and by “parents” we mean his feckless mother (for we know all marriages in this kingdom are hopeless gynacracies) – watch how such a ragamuffin now runs the gauntlet of Rockefeller “medicine.” This, of course, has lately been aped by a midwifery lustful for institutional approval and access. The boys and girls alike will be microwaved by ultrasound; the fetus boys’ brains being fried on account of their thinner blood-brain barrier, the fetus girls’ eggs being destroyed in whole or in part; the female is an anxious thing, and whatever poor devils are born to such wombs will like’ as not be hopelessly inundated with so much feminine “care” as to be useless as men. They may as well grow up to be New Fairfield ghostwriters.
I leave it to your research to explore the errors of the “forty-week gestation,” flu vaccines in utero, the woman’s physical position in Rockerfeller birthing; the time to sever the umbilical cord, Vitamin K, the burning of the baby’s eye with silver nitrate, and the mutilation and lifelong incapacitation – principally psychic and secondarily physical – attendant upon the penis of the luckless circumcised boy-turned-man.
Recovering ourselves, we marvel that any babies are born amidst this obvious anti-life agenda and system, but so they are. I ask again: does anything in this people’s conception and birthing routines redound to a child’s dignity, safety, and health?
We have not the time now to detail the subsequent life of whatever beleaguered souls manage to survive the mischief of their parents. It’s well the clock moves apace, for we haven’t tears enough to shed for the children born into this kingdom.
How overcome we are even to gloss over the almost certain immurement of the baby’s souls in the legal PERSON, the disservice done them by either being raised with no religion or, near as bad, that the child is bid clutch whatever sect of 501(c)(3) Churchianity, variously fanatical if it’s not lukewarm, which his parents whims decide upon; the disservice of a carnal system of study designed for carnal economic ends; the slop given them in leisure hours; and a body (and, thus, soul) retarded in its healthful growth on account of dietary, circadian, digestive, and vestimental disruptions.
What of this “normal childhood” redounds to the child’s honor, health, and safety?
And what is the youth given at the pinnacle of this journey? He is told married life is the highest calling. Tell that to the heroes of humanity, the saints and soldiers and scholars of history. Which one of them frittered away his days placating a spouse and rearing sirelings less impressive than he? If it were not the 501(c)(3) McChristians and their whoremasters, the secular conservatives, holding up married life as the highest vocation, I wouldn’t say anything. But it is they who are the most certain of this error. No, married life is not the highest calling. Once again we see people who purport to adhere to other and ancient worldviews going ass-over-tit into the lies of the present.
I remind one and all, particularly your know-it-all Latin Catholics, that religious life, not married life, is the highest vocation. It is evident from the New Testament that marriage is a concession for those who cannot achieve greatness. We hardly need to remind ourselves that, however highly the canaille praise themselves by praising family life, that it is the middling and dullest of the population who reproduce. Excellent men do not generally go in for marriage. As mighty Hitler said in the last century, the sons of the great men usually have a hard time in life. The best souls reserve their time and talents for the higher vocations given to virginity. Always has it been so; always will it be.
Arrah, were not the great Lord Of The Kaaba to send us great gouts of grace, the each and all skins would be swallowed by the same worthless spirit of their sirs, and that only to do it all over again. As it happens, nearly all babies fall to this fate.
Sentimental, Not Real
Now, of all the concerns which may be lumped into “protecting children,” true to their morbid form the bourgeois have fixated on sexual abuse. There are entire digital ecosystems where some bourgeois will set up other bourgeois for underage encounters only to broadcast these awkward interactions to the herd of their middle class fellows. There are many things which are objectionable about this “predator poaching,” as these upstanding citizens call their behavior. The abandonment of the principles of “trial by jury” and “innocent until proven guilty” are the gravest of these delicts.
There are, however, certain ancillary vexations which attend this vigilantism, and these reveal more general realities about the nature of this kingdom and its errors in thinking.
For example, in preparation for this essay I reviewed some of these “stings.” I have made no secret in the past of how entertaining I find such productions. Like most entertainment, however, this does no good for my soul and I knock off this behavior as much as I can. I’ve long known this whole genre is going to be used, as it verily is being used now, to argue for restrictions and monitoring of the Internet. This takes a lot of the piss out of my viewing pleasure.
Anyhow, I saw one of these things the other day. There was one Anglo dummy lured in to this meeting by a woman; the woman was in the pay of a blackamoor who goes around the Midwest doing these “busts”; the homeboy was in the pay of a Jew who goes around the country doing this stuff. The Jew controls the black who controls the woman, and this all tending towards controlling the Anglo. Never were American social dynamics more clearly seen.
One of the most persistent justifications not only for these stings but for the entire ethos of vigilance concerning child sexual abuse is that, “Amorous encounters at an early age hurt a youth.” In a Liberal society which is premised on consent, this is usually followed up by a statement whose speed of adoption by the population cannot be organic: “A person’s brain is not developed until twenty-five years of age.” You mark my words, this talking point has been rolled out to undermine representative government. A political order based on voting becomes irrelevant if the electorate is not capable of using their reason. In the decade this slogan has been rolled out, I’ve heard the age when the brain develops move back, first to thirty-five, then to forty-five years of age.
Beyond justifying the replacement of democracy with the likely replacement with some technocratic arrangement, this brain development angle contains two more problems. The first is that it betrays a fundamentally materialistic understanding of consciousness, with perception being housed in brain matter. The second is that it assumes a fundamentally Newtonian, static perception of human consciousness which is supposed to “develop” to some final monistic stage. This ignores the fact that God Almighty made the brain of a baby to be that of a baby; the brain of a child to be that of a child; the same for a youth, the same for a man, the same for an elder. The human being’s brain is never “undeveloped”; it is in the state God designed it to be at that hour of life.
Returning to the hurt which allegedly attends premature youth sexuality, there are three errors of thinking here. As hell has its subbasements, these themselves reveal greater errors still.
The first is that, as adduced throughout this essay, this concern for the child is fundamentally sentimental, not real. No society which cared about children would do the dozens of things to children from conception to adolescence listed above. Further, when these children grow up they will be cast into a totally anomic society which, based on the amounts of people on prescription medications, will almost certainly drive them into one species of medicated madness or another. If this child-turned-man should ever buck his training and get uppity, the police hirelings of this most compassionate society will give him the Randy Weaver or David Koresh treatment, or it will weigh his limbs down with iron fetters like Ed and Elaine Brown on some Fourteenth Amendment UNICORE slave plantation. Either we root and branch develop a society of compassion consummate to this alleged concern for youth, or we acknowledge this is Disney sentimentality. We cannot have things both ways.
The Rub
And now we come to the heart of the matter: why is child sexual abuse so focused on by the Middle Class? We know why the archons push this fear, that it creates a society of suspicion, and that state power rises in direct proportion to how low trust is amongst a people. We know this. But what motivates the bourgeoisie to fear such criminality, and this on spurious sentimental grounds? I’ll tell you why: this people love the Sexual Revolution. It matters not how conservative, holy, religious, or moral they think themselves; it matters not how much they may genuinely mourn the catastrophic effects on individuals, families, and progeny this event wrought, they believe the marital act is fundamentally about pleasure. They love this conclusion; like many a bugged-out addict, the bourgeois will fight to the death for this doleful love no matter how much it hurts them. The drunk with a rotting liver clutches his bottle, and the suburbanite drowning in debt fondling their credit card is no more base than they.
Preliminaries
Before we delineate the many and diverse errors concerning the agenda of “child protection,” particularly child sexual abuse, we ought to recall correct thinking on this matter. Whilst I am in agreement with the people of this land that such behavior, namely any congress between an adult and a child, is gravely immoral and criminal, I reject almost every reason this people has for holding this position. I say their reasons paper-over not only the native sentimentality of this generation, but an host of other errors as well. In place of their erroneous reasons I suggest right thinking as regards this topic.
The proper setting of amorous congress is in holy matrimony, and children are the ordinary product of the physical union. If there is no marriage, there is to be no sexual activity. In favor of postponing this supernatural union into the late teens or even early twenties is the natural observation that the bodies of youth are not at full strength until some years after puberty. The chances of birthing an imbecile, or a moral or physical weakling, is great (of course on no account may such an afflicted soul be murdered). The young woman may additionally endanger herself by birthing with a body not hardly strong enough to do so.
But we don’t want sexuality tied to fecundity and community. We want the pleasure of the moment. Well did Marshall Macluhan note that with the popularization of telephonia all facets of society would collapse into, “Everything, everywhere, now.” Is it a wonder the marital act, which is certainly a liminal “peak moment,” is so very much on the mind of a people intoxicated with screens?
You see, the Sexual Revolution removed several layers of taboos around the marital act. Some of these ought to have been removed as they represented deeply-embedded distortions of sexuality stemming from Manichean, Augustinian, and protestant eccentricities. With all barriers to sexuality removed, in any case, every act became fair game. Within the parameters of our larger Liberal society, which predicates everything on consent, and that of the Sexual Revolution, which predicates that amorous congress is fundamentally about individual pleasure, and within the parameters of telephonia, where all distinctions collapse into the moment, the now, sexual encounters between children and adults must be permissible. It is the logical consequence of these premises. Any guardrails against this are arbitrary impositions. Any society so established betrays its principles to forbid such congress.
Either one must give up their objection to adult-child sexual encounters, or they must give up Liberalism, the Sexual Revolution, and telephonia. At the end of the day this society would rather die a thousand deaths than give up the three things listed, and thus concern for “child safety” is the farce which I have exposed in this essay. The misrulers of this society know the contradiction I have palpitated, for they study this people very deeply; they know this contradiction, they know we will never give up our errors, and they mean to exploit this dissonance to their greatest advantage.
No one wants to kill the sacred cow of “child protection” because we love the Sexual Revolution, no matter how “conservative” or “Christian” or “moral” we think ourselves – we love this Revolution. We would rather play Jewish games and win Jewish prizes. This is to say that we would rather waste-out our hours discussing “ages of consent,” “Internet safety,” and the merits of background checks – all the pomps a low-trust society throws up rather than rebuilding social trust – than to finally pull the trigger and say that the marital embrace is foundationally for babbies. Ah, but we are bourgeois; it is only meet and just that we should want what the bourgeois want: pleasure now, and as much as possible, please. And on this the archons will hang us.
I Dreamed I Saw Randy Weaver
The other night I was coming out o’ the bar and detoured to the walk above Youngs Field. Down below the blackamoors were playing on their drums and their skateboards – it reminds them of the jungle, you know – and the useless Anglo yuppies were pushing prams with puppies. It was a Friday. The Orientals and greasers who run all the stores, and the Jews – themselves knocking off for the auld Sabbath – they who own all the stores, were doing alright, given the hour and all.
Now up above Young’s Field you know there are benches. And I come across Randy Weaver of all people, and him lighting up a fag and singing. He sang – and I recall it was to the tune of The Rising Of The Moon – the following, him scornfully shaking his head b’times.
Now, who are children’s enemies? Not strangers, vans, or street/
Not sockets, pills, or perverts which fill the airwaves neat.
But canaille of the lukewarm world, of parents’ fondest lust/
‘Tis they who waft the youthful soul to greysome, sadly musk.
Who filled the heads of babies new with highborn, lightsome truths/
But turned their ire and their tongues to derision’s work uncouth
When children grow and mean to forge the world as they were taught/
“Be sensible,” their parents mule, that trade’s weak spell be caught?
Who burned the Waco compound when David boldly fought/
The hordes of barking hirelings as Clinton’s errand sought
To grind the plucky protestants to powder, bone, and dust/
Machine-gunned and strafed the kids as normies watch not plussed?
Who contracepted bloodlines, froze embr’os by the score/
Who butchered all those wombly babes, who found suburban chore
In carting off to pharmacy, to chemist, and drug store/
To buy their pilly Plan Bs with candy, pop, and more?
Who conceived on porn and fried the brains of ultrasound’d kids/
Who drank ten thousand gallons of rotgut giving SIDs
Who sliced and diced the penises of neigh on every boy/
Who swath’d youth in yards of cloth, thus robbing flesh of joy?
Who paid Manhattan’s portly pigs to strike Occupy’s brave camp/
Who bought the whips and tasers, the shackles, ties, and clamps,
Who patronized the nightly news as journalists did lie/
About the restive debt slaves who knew ‘twas do or die?
Who slaughtered Lamiah Ali, and all her family too/
Who blew up Afghan weddings, and bulldozed Gaza too
Who sic’d the trash of ISIS on Arabman and black/
And sent that crew from Bucca’s camp, babbies to burn and hack?
Who burned the face off Ziegel, snapped Tomas Young’s strong spine/
Who turned the priest Tim Vacok into a vegetable
Who bodied bold Pat Tillman, who laid Briseno low/
Who broke Brie and Marie’s dour hearts, Renee and Eva’s, too?
Who marred the heaven-destined dawn of childhood’s brightest hour/
With faithless days and pablum and telephonic glow
Or worst yet wean them on corporate Christianity/
That Jesus and the saints on high fit parents’ shuffling mien?
So, who are children’s enemies, who hates them at their core?/
Not stalkers, priests, or buggers come knocking at the door
But parents of the doleful herd who do as canaille does/
Who drill each generation on motive, “Just because.”
He cleared his throat.
“It’s all connected, you know,” Mr. Weaver said as he crushed out his cigarette and walked on to his weekend dinner.
Conclusion
Stop protecting children. You’ll make pansies of them if you keep carrying on like this, jobbers as base and cruel and carnal as yourself. There isn’t a town green up and down the east coast of these States united which does not have etched in granite the names of young men – some towns b’ the handful, others b’ the dozen, some of the bigger settlements by the hundred – who forged in blood and bone and ichor a republic for you. And for what did they do this? For you to tremble at every spook and every scare of strangers?
More than to anyone else, to the know-it-all conservative Christians – phonies all until they prove me otherwise – I say the following: either sober up from Liberalism, the Sexual Revolution, and telephonia – give them up as the sot gives up his bottle – and establish an ethos of rightly-ordered child protection, or keep cleaving to your secret errors and watch your philosophical inconsistencies hang you on ersatz and sentimental “child protection.” You need only ask the British and the Canadians how this is being used to suck them into the enemy’s digital ID, and that thing is nothing compared to the prison those satans have waiting for you after that.
Rage, declaim, fight, and resist everything which passes itself off under the cloak of “child protection.” Background checks, watch lists, predator catchers, cameras; cast from your vocabulary the far too casual use of the word “pedophile” (and ask why this topic is given such great play in the media, social or otherwise); cast from your eyes vigilante “predator catchers,” the only result of which will be mob justice and the ever-increasing assumption “guilty until proven innocent”; scorn and deride any organization – amongst which the Catholic Church in America is the chief criminal – that publicize lists of “credibly accused” individuals, men of who have either not had a trail or have been found innocent of accusations; discern that accusations of any sort do not in any sense equate to guilt, and should not be publicized with that tone of voice.
The only natural hope we have of striking a blow against the archons and their unnatural schemes is the only natural hope our Founding Fathers gave us: to work from robust grassroots communities to advocate for our interests. Anything and anyone which subverts group trust is an enemy of this holy state, and nothing is a bigger enemy to a high-trust society than an effeminate and suspicious aire of “child protection.”
Parents, and the society patronized and cleaved to by parents, are the enemy of children. This needn’t be so if they but realized the proper telos of their children, that the Creator dwell within them here and hereafter. Let adulterated adults give up their conspiracies, their jonesing for the Joneses, and their carefully inculcated suspicion of sexual deviancy; for if such parents are the enemy of children, it needs be grasped they too have an enemy (if they but knew). Parents’ above dispositions are the direct result of a lifelong telephonic catechesis not geared towards anyone’s benefit but the spoilers, and they hate everyone.
Well, now, as the whore giggled to the sailor, that is that.
St. David Koresh & Companions, pray for us!
