“I had to go into the York [PA] ghetto yesterday for work. Got eye-fucked by two different cars of dudes. Keeping my claw hammer in the passenger seat now. Shit up here [Lancaster, PA] is getting squirrelly. Don’t even get me started on the melanin deficient faɡɡots…”

-Nero the Pict

In case one has not read the numerous Harm City books such as Waking Up In Indian Country, Rubbing Out Palefaces, The Hunt for Whitey and Paleface Sunset, this situation has been a long time building.

The situation is that small cities and big towns of Southeastern Pennsylvania, where palefaces from Africanized shitholes like Baltimore have fled, are stocked by three kinds of people:

-Working ivories who fled the liberalized shitholes overrun by criminals of other races imported by the elites of the ivory races to drive the working ivories they despise into the green hills of Pennsylvania, up out of the paved bowels of Baltimore. These folks have mixed with the indigenous palefaces to form a pseudo-redneck population.

-People of color, mostly driven from high crime areas of New York, Philly and Baltimore—mostly New York—by high intensity police work on one hand, and also to set up drug distribution networks for the servicing of the paleface ennui suicide cult.

-Once the working whites have been driven from big cities to small cities and towns, the elite and aspirational class whites migrate there to escape the same crime that their policies have encouraged and indeed planted. They find themselves afflicted with guilt for running from the feet of their ebony god. Just as in Portland, where most of the palefaces I met had fled from ebony crime in other towns, these guilt-ridden minds, indoctrinated in schools and universities, now seek to replace the working palefaces they followed with the people that drove both of them on their way, a people who are not capable of living without the working ivories doing infrastructure and the elite ivories providing their sustenance. The ebonies flee the food deserts they have created and follow the ivory herd to its new mewing pastures of blind despair.

So the meat-puppet parade lurches across the lands once ruled by proud warrior peoples, crushed by the iron heel of Modernity, now ruled by simpering, tantrum-throwing, self-hating degenerates, whose only hope for redemption is to have the bloody hands of their feral human pets turned upon them—and thence may they perish in droves.

Urban flight has proven to be the trap it was intended to be, to drive working people into an unsustainable economic orbit, in settings intrinsically vulnerable in the very same way that the cities they were originally driven from.

Urban flight was a sin demanded of the working paleface by his elite master who set his dark dogs upon our toiling heels. The wages of this sin, a sin we all agreed to commit when we fled the paved lands of our birth, have come due.

The collection will not end when you take the knee, but will then commence in raw earnest.

In my lifetime the elite have reduced the permitted attempt at ownership of a working class home according to the following trajectory:

1940s-60s: 30 years, when they still needed us to fight their shitty wars

1970s: 10 years, as our jobs were sent overseas

1980s: 10 years, as we were targeted for drugged stupefication

1990s: 10 years, as we were replaced by imported underclasses

2000s: 8 years, as we were terrorized into assenting to federal tyranny

2010s: 5 years, as we were terrorized into agreeing to being branded with primordial blood libel actually committed by the ancestors of the elites

2020s?: I am predicting nomadism by lease, rental, cash purchase, mobile home and outright hobo living as the portion of the paleface as he is hunted across the face of a nation who will no longer grant him any space.

I like this final phase, as it reboots the Arуan origins sung of in Gilgamesh, the Odyssey, The Argonautica, the Aeneid and Beowulf. We are on that long road again across a dying civilization built by our ancestors in service to their trickster masters, a meat locker of the soul that is reverting to a wilderness as every civilization does, when its affront of the Cosmos is finally blown down by God’s cleansing gust.

This is a Great Age dawning and I count myself fortunate to be witness to it. Let the whine of sissy kind, lamenting the loss of their white picket fence utopia, bring on the Wolf Age and the true howlings of change.