Hi, name's Tom, became aware of your site after reading about the nearly killed Marine. Head On A Swivel I used to live in the city and had some experiences myself. I am just curious exactly what your point is. Baltimore sucks the white hot fuzzmother.

In any case if you got any kids Happy Father's Day.

New Thoughts

I have read the site some and like it. Baltimore had made me very racist. I hate this city and county. Anyway good site man!

Tom, thank you for this, for helping focus my shattering consciousness on the foci of my life, something which I have a hard time keeping in perspective as I try not to get sucked into the vortex that was designed, and is constantly upgraded by our puppet masters, for my disposal.

You know Baltimore.

The readers on this site know Baltimore by proxy—and that is quite enough for most of them.

We know the battlefield.

We know the enemy foot soldiers.

But who shaped this battle space and why?

The savage Dindu, robbing the corner store, serves that Force.

The apologetic Liberal, championing the savage Dindu as martyr child, serves that Force.

The deluded conservative, busting his ass and paying his taxes and abiding by his white guilt, serves that Force.

The working white man turned negro-hater, serves that Force as a tangible foe for the Dindu and his sponsors.

The awakened Alt-Righter, voting for a savior king and trusting anew the apparatus that ultimately serves that Force, serves that Force, as a straw enemy and as an enabler of the functional apparatus that serves that Force.

The man who sells, rents or abandons his Baltimore home and heads for the hills, serves that Force, by making way for its meat-puppet mobs.

The Force is with us, in us, above us, below us, around us, waiting for us and it is not good.

We all serve the evil Force.

If we run, vote, complain, fight or join the tide of crime, we all serve this genius engine that has been set over us, while losing our souls in its moral gravity well.

Only those who find the elusive masculine, spiritual path—which the Force is dedicated to erasing—may survive as a sane and whole person living clear-eyed in its realm.

The rest must join the zombie mob or don slave blinkers.

I have chosen to study the workings of this thing, this Force, that by all accounts does not exist, in the short term as a bid to remain sane and aware—two opposing states when faced with the overawing truth that Evil is ascendant—and in the long term to send a message in a bottle down the River of Time from a world insane, hopefully to be read by those in a position to prevent the rebirth of that which is eating us and must die when its food is gone.

On a practical, materialistic level, Tom, my point is, that every man of my race who regards his survival and safety as a societal affair and none of his own business, who presents himself as easy meat to my enemies, who runs and hides from my enemies, emboldens my enemies and compromises my survival, is expendable. As besieged men, assailed by the same evil Force, it is not enough to fight back. We must think and behave tactically, with full knowledge that we are in a war and that our skin is our uniform. To sit in your car texting in no-man’s land was not helping the marine, you, me or most importantly his family. It aids and abets the enemy.

If we take the liberal conservative axis and say, “He shouldn’t have been there, he should make way and live and work and socialize elsewhere,” then we declare ourselves slaves and hope he follows suit.

If we take the prevailing Alt-Right view and say, “It wasn’t his fault. How should he have known that he was lied to, that the war isn’t in The Stan, that the war is in The Homeland, and we should set up a system that prevents this from happening,” then we are merely suggesting a different liberal/conservative axis, a more functional way of controlling people and at the same time denying the marine agency, placing him as a mere victim.

I take the stance that he is, as an Arуan, his own agent and should depend not on his masters to protect him, on his enemies thirsty for his blood to avoid him out of fear of the police state, but should instead look within for the ability to survive and to develop the warrior spirit necessary to trigger his cowardly foe’s sissy need to survive before that foe strikes.

Are the White Devils of the White Chumps?

Take your pick.

He fell asleep at his post in an active race war zone.

I hope he heals up.

I’m proud that he shanked that Dindu.

I hope that when subsidized criminals are transplanted into his temporary refuge, that he remembers and engages the enemy with his mind before leaving his body in harm’s way.

Any warfighter should appreciate that.

Thanks again, Tom

-James

PS: Father’s Day was great. Helped my youngest paint his deck and talked to my oldest, who I will grill out with in Harford County on Tuesday, where he made his escape to, only to discover that hoodrats are now being bussed out to his refuge. When the world itself and its secular God of Things is out to get you, the hills we run to are never high enough.

Recognizing and Surviving the Condition of Anarcho-Tyranny