Today, I went into town looking to replenish my pantry when I caught a glance at an interracial couple, one negro and the other of some Nordic stock. You can see the regret woe and sadness in the man’s eyes for not marrying a Traditional Nordic woman.

This man understood with clarity, the irreparable damage he has caused to the regality and vitality of his Spiritual Race and ours! Each day, his eye catches sight of the ship which bears passage to the restoration of the Viking as it sails slowly away and disappears over the horizon.

As it departs from his actions and those like him, the tears of our ancestors flow across the Bifrost like the burnette waves of which he has been seduced. With their children, the once vibrant light of the halls of Valhalla grow more dim each day as many forsake the primordial paths which we inherited and forsook.

No solace is he to find by burying his longing face into his hands for they, like the body of his maiden, are covered in tattoos: a constant reminder of ones fallen state. Their permanence is a just penance for the thoughtless mistreatment of purity.

As they pierced their bodies, so too have they pierced the golden walls of Heaven. Try as I might, I am outpaced by the ruin and rumble. Today, the heavens weep and I shall join them.


One thought on “Miscegenation

  1. I feel your pain warbrother!

    This friend of mine, let’s call him Heinrich, is a most outstanding specimen of this fast dying age, and a centennial gem be it known, of all the Caucasus. He has a good heart, good strong back and thighs, hung like a Norwegian Fjord Horse, and is blonde beyond blonde, I mean, holy shit… we’re talking like all the way up to the eyelashes or something.

    You could add to that the usual stuff; intelligent (actually a former chess champion in our country), successful, is loaded with roubles and yet despite it all, he honestly couldn’t care less about material possessions. It’s just weird. But people talk to the guy and are captivated by his openness and generosity. And on that note, this kindness really was to be the give-away as it generally just doesn’t occur among our race anymore, it’s that one ‘non-white’ quality that is obvious in him I suppose. But as he always kind of lacked that psychopathic/neurotic streak most white business men have. I guess it piqued my curiosity a little.

    And warbother, I’ve seen white women flock to the guy in ways that are just embarrassing. You could honestly almost hear all the right parts of their brain light up like a billion viking funeral pyres when this guy hits the club, and you better believe it this is simple biological stuff we’re talking: you’d almost hear shit like “oh my god the return of an actual living non-faggot white gentleman” coupled with “I didn’t hear a word my bf just said cause my panties just got wet from the mere momentary impression of a REAL man”. And he would get this reaction from both runway bombshells, committed housewives, clubby/raver types, uni chicks, nigger fodder and even the used and abused trailer park types. But really any and all other variations in the hazy spectrum of what passes as white and female in these times, heck even a lot of gays eyed him off too for that matter. And why not? he had it all.

    But of all the opportunities and temptations, he really showed so little interest other than keeping in good standing with people on a purely social basis. I could have sworn he was gay just by the amount of pussy he abstained from alone, but I mean, the guy’s a fucking titan; a living white demigod basically so there’s no way that theory would hold up. Either way I was just dumbfounded, but it was nothing compared to what I would later find out through getting to know the guy better outside of work.

    Last summer he invites my wife and I around one evening to have dinner with him and his wife. So alright, yes! this was it. We turn up to the front gate of his manor before being buzzed in and led through a traditional English courtyard garden. Suddenly a big wooden door opens and he comes out to welcome us. That ever familiar deep sexy voice of his bounded through the balmy night air like a viking war horn, such to the extent that my wife and I both were quite taken aback by this overwhelming show of primordial masculinity, and yet there was also a kind of softness and tranquillity to his voice that made it seem, ultimately, rather benevolent.

    Then it happened, this bossy little 5 feet tall Asian wife of his comes running out and makes a bee-line for us, leading Heinrich along as though he were her little toy boy lapdog. And the guy was was like butter melting in the palm of her hand. I’ve never seen him like that. He loved it, and it was just insulting to see.

    To be honest I was so shocked at that moment I didn’t know what to say, and I then realized that I was actually downright angry too. This was basically the best of our race, betraying our race. It was the last thing I expected and it was just plain old wrong. But there wasn’t a thing I could do about it anyway, as if I had a problem with it, it’s not as though I was about to take it up with a guy that could probably beat the snot out of me with one or two bitch slaps from a cock so white and big it would make even the blackest of negroes green with envy (and in front of both our wives? no thanks).

    But there was surely something more to it all than that, and I found it hard to really penetrate the heart of this evenings misfortune. As I say they were good to us, funny and most accommodating. But a massive dark cloud had descended over my psyche that evening (one not dissimilar from the type that has grown oppressingly large over mother Europe this last century). And still I just couldn’t fault the guy really. His wife was a nice lady too. I mean, you could say she was pretty in a universal sense, beautiful in fact, but for a future white world? it just wasn’t going to work.

    We all smiled, ate and chat into the early hours while my mind and inner-self descended in utter turmoil, trying to make any sense of anything really at this point. My emotions were completely severed from my beliefs and I just knew this one experience would make an intellectual train-wreck out of me if I couldn’t get to the bottom of it all somehow.

    Such as it is, I had assumed that inner darkness and sorrow was going to be mine alone. Without some from of closure I would bare it all that evening and possibly forever more, for all I knew. But at this point I really just needed a bit of fresh air, and fuck it probably a cigarette too for that matter (farewell 6 months abstinence, but damn I needed it). As the nicotine molecules passed through my blood-brain barrier I gazed up at the stars and sighed under my breath (Europa, where are you?).

    A few moments later, Heinrich comes out and straddles up beside me pulling up a mahogany chair along the way. “I… noticed you were looking a bit shocked when you met my wife and I earlier on there” and then I felt my legs go limp. How could I hate this guy? his level of emotional resonance was unfathomable, almost like some kind of father figure. “You can be honest you know, my wife and I are both practising Buddhists as a matter of fact, we often meet people with funny reactions but don’t easily get offended, I can assure you”.

    So at that point I just broke down and really gave it to him “why man, why an asian??” and knew I was losing it and that I could do nothing to stop the rambling stream of thoughts that would mostly be perceived as shallow-minded bigotry that was to come. “man you’ve got it all, you could have whoever you want and I know you’re a decent and guy and she is too, to be honest you guys seem genuinely the happiest most content people I’ve met in years, really, you’re perfect for one and other, but what of your homeland, what of your people?? I mean, at least donate to a sperm-bank or something”

    “I’m sorry it’s just that both our fathers fought in the war to protect these lands for their people, often against these people. And that means you too Heinrich, your a good man and the motherland needs you!”

    He probably could have killed me with one single back hander, but instead he just lit up cigar, rocked back in the chair a little then spoke: “I too sympathize with your plight my friend, but I am not vested in racialist ideas and can’t be without being a hypocrite which ought to be pretty obvious right?”

    His wife came to the door at that moment and uttered something in broken english “…you boys like some cool drink or something?” her silken little tropical body appeared as silhouette against the evening light, with some assuredly overpriced designer kaftan fluttering in the tropical breeze “No thanks honey, just give us 5 ok?” the deep relaxed voice of Heinrich brought us both back to base camp, then he took another puff on that cigar before continuing:

    “Look, does it really bother you that much? you say I epitomize the master race, but there are many other considerations in this modern world that many so called whites are incapable of ever fathoming and it will be there demise”

    “I mean pick any white piece of chicken for example, get her drunk, fuck her brains out on the first night and then what? Would she even know how to cook you a nice breakfast the following morning? iron your shirts, keeps her body nimble and supple just because they’ve been programmed from young to please a man that’s vowed to them”

    “But anyway don’t take my word for it – just relax”

    He rocked back again in his chair and tilted his head back a little as if contemplating the outcome of his conclusions. An obscure bird suddenly cried out in the distance while at the same time Heinrich turned back around to face me, with an intensity of expression unmatched by him in all this evening, exclaiming: “but I just love how clean they are too, and those tight little asian asses, I mean….wow!”. He gestured up at the moon with his fist.

    I was quite taken aback as in reality he wasn’t wrong, though I do disagree with him. We both got up and at that moment Heinrich put an arm around my shoulder and smiled, gesturing the we go back in and join our racially different wives again.

    The remaining cigar butt sat immobile, and when the tiny flecks of embers died out giving rise to a small puff of smoke that then drifted off into the night sky as far back as the ancients time from within which white women still had tradition, and made as good a wives as their asian counterparts.

    The deep never-ending darkness of a cosmos above and beyond our human problems would have seemed to laugh a bit at that moment, if only there were anyone able to perceive such laughter.

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