Wednesday, 28 September 2016

KNOW YOUR NAUGHTY NEO-NAZI NEIGHBOURS! NEWS YOU CAN USE FROM THE STASI.






It’s their way to detain.

It’s their way to disgrace.

Their knee in your balls

And their fist in your face.

Oh, and long live the state

By whomever it’s made.

Sir, I didn’t see nothing.

I was just getting home late.



Leonard Cohen, A Singer Must Die





It is a comforting thought, in these divided and divisive times, that there is something on which the political elites, Black Lives Matter, the SJW and NGO hard Left, and the Alt. Right might agree. It is open season on white people. That there is a concerted effort from the top down to eradicate Whitey can no longer be doubted by any but agenda-driven shills, outriders and water-carriers for the new masters of the universe. Good luck with it. We may be on the ropes, but we have not yet hit the canvas.

Of course, identitarian politics is the current on which the Progressivist ship is borne, and you are encouraged to be proud of your ethnicity. Unless, of course, that ethnicity is Caucasian, in which case I should be quiet about it unless you want to end up in a prison wing with those not of your race and more than a little inimical to what they see as your privilege. ‘White privilege’ is a little like putting in a long week at work and then calling your pay ‘wage privilege’. I was always baffled by the idea, for example, of being proud of being black. But then, I am white trash, brought up to believe that one can be proud of achievements but not of congenital roulette-ball placement. I am proud of my Ph. D., for example, because I earned it. I am not proud of my brown eyes, because I did not.

We are gathered here today to look at a German magazine called, in translation, Baby & Parenting. Aaah! I know. Little critters. About the last magazine in which you would expect to find the sort of anti-White, ethno-masochistic, mea-culpist, oikophobic piss which infests so many of today’s Leftist lifestyle trash publishing. Think again, Jack.

The magazine in question has published a feature warning German mothers against certain nefarious strands in the weave of their society. Are these people Muslim rapists or ISIS infiltrators intent on killing and maiming? Are they Maghrebians with room-temperature IQs who understand what social security benefit means? Are they psychopathological social justice workers and students who believe that the duskier the European population the better? Gentle reader, they are not.

The piece in question was featured in Breitbart – and, curiously, the Google translate function normally so happy to hop in and annoy you with every other page does not function for this particular sapphire of the journalist’s art in these rather totalitarian times. I will merely note the following:

1.     The line-drawing picture fronting the feature (above) shows clearly not the sort of short-haired, blond man you might expect to be warned against when it comes to your bog-standard neo-Nazi. Instead, we see the women-folk. The final insult. You get called a Nazi and it’s not even you. It’s your fucking wife.

2.     Here are the signs that a family might be ‘Right-wing’. They might be: Inconspicuous, cheerful, nice, dedicated, blond, cute, engaged, very obedient, quiet, well behaved.

Imagine you live in Baltimore, or Malmo, or Croydon, or Moelenbeek, or Paris, and you were offered neighbours like that. You would beg them to move in. But Nazis are like that. Devious. The most amusing part of the feature is when the German Mutti  is warned to report any loose talk at the school gates, as these ideas – ideas that are never mentioned but are of course any mention of any doubt concerning any immigration whatsoever – might spread across the playground. When they say ‘playground’, are they referring to an actual patch of asphalt, or the sandpit which now passes for adult political discourse?

The organization from which these instructions emanated is founded and run by an ex-Stasi operative, and a woman to boot. Thank heaven she alerted me, and millions of unsuspecting Germans. How was I to know that, on a visit to Munich last year, every blonde Hausfrau  I passed was on her way home, a key in her locket which would open that room in the house, wherein two flames burn always, flanking as they do a stern and moustachioed face?








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