Wednesday, 25 January 2017

A MAN’S JOB: TRUMP VS THE DEEP STATE

The thumb may be short, but the reach is long...


You’ve done a man’s job, sir…

Blade Runner



Almost a week into Trump’s presidency, and all is well. The usual suspects in the Democrat party, the Republican party, Hollywood, the media, Washington and its various lobbyists, Europe, the backward races of the Arabic world, blacks, wimmin, the UN, and the vast, lumbering golem of Western state-funded non-workers have beaten their little fists against the wall of the asylum, along with a goodly number of ugly white women who explain, with no words necessary, why white birth-rates are declining. Trump is tearing up globalist vanity projects and tearing down the follies and gazeboes of federal hiring. No more diversity officers for a while in Delaware, I fancy. Michael Moore is actually gaining weight, such is the level of his relief eating, and it may be that his weight becomes a barometer of Trump’s success. Very heaven.

And yet dark clouds rumble on the horizon, leaden and spitting ominous forks of as-yet-distant lightning. Trump has not inherited the Swiss economy, the Icelandic sense of national unity, the Israeli IQ or even the Costa Rican GDP. He has inherited a crippled leviathan all the more racially divided for eight years of a ‘black’ president voted in for, by today’s standards, racist reasons. The deep state in the USA is malevolent, its culture infantile, its media inane and its immigration policy deliberately dysfunctional and untenable in line with the basic tenets of anarcho-tyranny. Plus, as noted, it is twenty trillion big ones in the hole, and it is unlikely to win it back playing Texas Hold ‘em poker.

The very first problem Trump faces is the US economy. As noted in previous episodes of this journal, we in the West are the Guinea-pigs in the largest fiscal experiment ever. The premise is as follows; It is possible to sustain, in perpetuity, the economic viability of countries, trading blocs and federal organisations by quite literally inventing value in the form of its proxy, money. The first thing Trump will have found on the desk in the Oval Offices is a bill – and not Clinton – for twenty trillion dollars. To paraphrase my late father, Trump is not made of money. Even if he were, there isn’t enough dough on the planet to bail out the USA. Greece you can do, and get change. Portugal you can sub, just hold back their pocket-money for a couple of weeks. Italy will be hard work – it’s the world’s seventh-largest economy – but it could be done if the Mediterranean peoples could be convinced to do some actual work. The EU has proved that there is no fiscal can they can’t kick down the road. But the USA is the mother of all debts. Any takers? As The Stranglers once sang; Who wants the world?

Moving on, if or when the economy does collapse, both in the USA and Europe, Trump and Brexit will be blamed respectively by a Left-wing bloc who understand that rhetoric now sees off facts, in some quarters at least. Obama crippled America, but when the cripple finally falls in the street, it won’t be the black man to blame. It will very much be Whitey.

The biggest lie has yet to be told. Before Western mainstream media turns its attention full time to attacking Donald Trump, and by extension the dissatisfied white people who voted him in, they will have been working round the clock to construct the myth of myths, the super-lie which will make the others look like mild untruths; Obama was the greatest president in the history of the USA.

It is difficult to appreciate fully just how biased the Western MSM are. In the UK, even supposedly ‘Right-wing’ newspapers are nothing of the sort. Now that politics has moved from being a discipline and a practice to being a lifestyle choice you would do well to get right if you wish to seek employment, most newspapers re-hash the same mush. The Guardian and The Independent are still egregiously Leftist, but sales-wise they are on life support, and may not be around very long. As a general rule, if your beliefs are those of the political Right, you are not going to find much substance in the British media. As for the BBC, as Bertie Wooster says, one simply shakes one’s head and passes on.

Now that Donald Trump is president of the USA, despite a number of pathetic attempts to stop him, battle lines are becoming ever clearer. As noted in previous episodes, Trump does not just face a slightly biased media and a handful of millennials in pink plastic sandals. He is up against the deep state, the combination of the CIA, the military-industrial complex, NATO, the UN, European leaders, NGOs, lobbyists, the Davos financial mob, the Bilderbergers and their friends and relations, and anyone else with a vested interested in anarcho-tyranny defined as an increasingly lawless state increasingly governed by force. And Michael Moore. All of him.

Wednesday, 18 January 2017

ALTAMONT 2.0: EMPATHY WITH THE DEVIL

In the blue corner...

And in the red corner!



Evil, be thou my good…

Satan, from John Milton’s Paradise Lost



Please allow me to introduce myself…
The Rolling Stones, Sympathy for the Devil





Altamont. December 1969. The gig has its own little room in the rock and roll hall of infamy. Widely seen as the epitome of the death of the Sixties, Altamont joins the shadowy background of the Love Generation. It crouches down there in the dark along with Manson and the Family, the Weathermen, The Black Panthers and the rest of north America’s greasy underbelly. Altamont was the exemplar of the how the profiteer can use popular culture to change history, usually via the law of unintended consequences. We see it still now.

Students of popular culture will be familiar with received opinion about the gig that ended the most optimistic Western decade on a bum note. Promoters were beginning to realise in post-Woodstock 1969 that there was an awful lot of money to be made from the potent combination of rock music and the kids who wanted to hear it live. Altamont Speedway in Indiana was duly selected for a gig – at the last minute, the original venue having wisely backed down - involving Santana, Jefferson Airplane, The Flying Burrito Brothers, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young and, of course, The Rolling Stones. The Grateful Dead agreed with the original promoters and presciently pulled out when they gauged the atmosphere at the gig to be too potentially violent. The singer of a local band got hit in the head with a bottle, fracturing her skull. Mick Jagger was punched in the head as he got out of the helicopter that took him to Altamont Speedway. I always believed it was a mistake, that helicopter…

The Stones were not, in my view, at the top of their game at Altamont. Not that I saw Altamont, of course, but the footage doesn’t show the band as being at its best. I saw them in 1975, the week that Fool to Cry came out, and they really were their Satanic majesties. Jagger thrashing his belt on the floor during a rape song would not be allowed now, which is what made it so delicious. The cherubic Mick Taylor partnering piratic goblin-king Richards made it one of the best gigs I’ve ever seen.

At Altamont, The Stones hired Hell’s Angels to see to security, and provided them with $500 dollars’ worth of beer. As things became increasingly fractious in front of the stage, and while their Satanic majesties were strutting through Under My Thumb -  not diabolic anthem Sympathy for the Devil, as is widely believed - a young black man named Meredith Hunter was fatally stabbed by one of the bikers. By some accounts, he was picked on for being black. By others, he was winding up the Angels. Neither is an excuse for murder, but soon you won’t need an excuse for murder.

The footage I have seen certainly looks as though Hunter pulls out a revolver. One of the paramedics in the footage says that he saw the gun. These, however, are the days of fake news, so we will never know. I suspect still that we hear a lot about Altamont because the victim was black and his murderers white. How different from today, when a Western white person is 45 times more likely to be killed by a black than vice versa.

300,000 people attended Altamont. Four died – although three not from violence - and I believe there were four births. As noted, I would usually stress that we hear more about Altamont’s casualties than other concert fatalities because Hunter was black. With Altamont, though, I believe that it has been semi-buried in history’s trashcan because the live music lobby is a strong one in the USA.

Sonny Barger was the chief Angel that day. He is well known, notorious in the States, largely because of what happened at Altamont Speedway. I have actually met Sonny Barger. He signed my copy of his book Hell’s Angel in a bookstore in London. I have the photo of us together somewhere. I neglected to ask him about Altamont, suspecting that it would be like meeting Neil Armstrong and asking him to tell me about what fucked him off most about walking on the moon. Sonny spoke through a laryngeal amplifier, having had throat cancer.

In this age of fake news, and fake news about fake news, and real news about fake news, and the whole fractal chaos that the Left have woven from the internet and its powers of dissemination, it is difficult to know a real story from a shonky one, to utilise a wonderful Australian adjective. But here is a story which is undeniably true. Leftist nihilists will be descending on Washington DC on Friday to try to disrupt the inauguration of Donald Trump as US President. This invasion is approved, and even funded, by the US political establishment. There will, I feel, be blood.

The violence the Left would like to visit on Trump’s inauguration is still at the rhetorical level, and we will have to see what Friday brings. But if it is true that musicians booked to appear at the inauguration have received death threats and been forced to pull out, the Left are gaining a dangerous level of power Trump will have to confront.

For the Left is Trump’s true enemy. But who are his friends? Apparently – and this may be fake news – up to two million Hell’s Angels will converge on Washington DC on Friday. Hell’s Angels may not have worked out as security at Altamont, but I’d love to see them protecting Trump. When Keith Richards got back from the USA after the infamous gig and an English journalist asked him about Altamont, Keef said he thought it was a good gig. I hope Friday is equally good.

I would pay good money to see the Left in DC confronted by a couple of million Angels. So, who have we got? Black Lives Matter. Yeah, right. Anyone who knows the streets knows that blacks will only fight whites if the odds are ten to one in their favour, and they are armed. And the New York Times or The Independent is there to lie about proceedings. Black Bloc. Seriously? Anarchist dopeheads against the Angels? Again, bring it. Special snowflakes yelling about transgender toilets and fascism? I think the Angels would just eat them. Literally eat them.

When I was 17, I turned up at a gig featuring my band, and I was fresh from having been in a play at my college. I was wearing full stage make-up, and looked like the biggest bumboy you would ever hope to see on a summer’s day. A summer’s day in Earl’s Court. The party my band was due to play at was half full of the local chapter of the Hell’s Angels. My band-mates’ faces reflected my fear as I walked into the room. We, I thought, are fucking doomed.

Not so. The Angels loved us, and often turned up at our gigs after that, offering protection in return for some good hard punk rock. They saved us from skinhead shite on more than one occasion. We were allowed to drink in their pub. We got rides on their bikes. Great days.  Trump could not wish for better security than the Hell’s Angels.

The day after Altamont, Sonny Barger had a long conversation with a radio show host about what happened at Altamont. He singled out Jagger for particular criticism. I think Altamont affected Jagger, for a while at least. It scared the shit out of Mick Taylor. As noted, Keith didn’t give a fuck, which is what makes him pure rock and roll. Charlie Watts said, memorably, ‘Well done Sonny.’ One thing Barger said sticks in the memory. ‘They started messing with our bikes, man.’ Bad idea. Now, the creatures of the Left are messing with a lot more than the Angels’ bikes. They are messing with their freedom, and they are messing with their whiteness. Good luck with that, snowflakes.




Monday, 16 January 2017

STRANGE LOVE or HOW I LEARNED TO STOP WORRYING AND LOVE THE DON

Saviour or nutter? Maybe both...


When Trump won the presidency I thought what all realist Right-wingers thought; Thank Christ it’s not Clinton. Apart from anything else, her ascension to the rotting throne of the USA would have meant that the three leaders of the West’s most powerful nations would have been women. Merkel, May and Clinton. It would have been like the opening scene to Macbeth. And this does not reflect a hatred of women on my part. Marine Le Pen and Frauke Petry represent hope for France and Germany respectively. But Clinton? She and her sinister husband seem at first glance the perfect couple for the modern political world. Smart operators, deadly if crossed and utterly corrupt, corrupt to the core, like a rotten tooth somehow clinging to the gum.

But the world got the Donald. After the realisation had set in – which it still has not for the Left – the next question was; What the hell is he going to do? The man is a maniac, an egoist, a louche billionaire who might just see the presidency the same way as Orson Welles saw being a film director, as being given the biggest train set a boy could have. He’s got The White House, the executive order pen and the nukes. Head for the hills. And yet…

Firstly, you have to look around and see who despises Trump, and how you feel about them. Let us begin with the media. A gaggle of lockstep Leftists, lickspittle courtiers who thought the sun shone out of Obama’s arse. And not only do the media despise Trump across the West, but he is making no attempt to heal the rift. Quite the opposite. He’s cutting out the MSM and speaking directly to that nemesis of the Leftists, the ordinary person. Mark up a point to Comb-over Boy.

Hollywood. This narcissistic, self-absorbed nest of preening mediocrities hate Trump as one, with a handful of obvious exceptions risking their ability ever to work again with some vocal support. Take a bow the great James Woods. If a bunch of stupid actors and actresses hate you, I love you, simple as. And if I were a serving female officer in, say, Afghanistan, I would have choked on my rationed chocolate when I read the description of Meryl Streep as ‘brave and defiant’ for her scripted attack on the President Elect. Again, point to Trump, nil points to that piece of chit Streep and her craven comrades. The reason McCarthy didn’t find any genuine communists in Hollywood is not that he was looking in the wrong place. It’s that he was looking in the wrong millennium.

The Republican Party. The election was pre-programmed as Jeb Bush versus Hillary Clinton, with Bush losing with a quiet dignity, the Republicans able to indulge in some fake jeering as their country fell apart, but still plenty of pork in the barrel to pay for an endless supply of wing-tipped shoes. Didn’t work out that way. And the Republican party is not going to forgive Trump for winning. When you see the gaggle of recent presidents who will not be attending Trump’s inauguration, the two Bushes are among them. That shows you the depth of hatred. Obama, Bush I and II, Clinton and Carter don’t come to your inauguration. Wow. That’s like having your gig snubbed by a Toto tribute band. Three to Trump.

Gormless fucking Yanks. Here in Costa Rica, I am unfortunate enough to be surrounded by dozens of these half-witted fuckers, braying their political ‘thoughts’ in bars and giving new credence to the old saying that opinions are like buttocks in that we all have them, but it is not necessarily a good idea to air them in public. If I had heard one more Yankee praising Clinton’s ‘record of service’ before the election she lost despite trying her best to rig it, there would have been murder most foul. Record of self-service, yes. I had thought the average Brit was politically incompetent, but the north American average puts any London street-sweeper on a par with John Locke. I would have left Facebook – or LongFacebook – some time ago if it wasn’t for the pleasure of popping over there and catching the whining, moaning, fake-news-saturated tears of these uncomprehending Democrat bastards. And the Donald continues to rack up the points.

Finally, the glorious Left itself. I have gone, in recent months, from seeing the Left as people to point at and laugh to people to shun and avoid. They are different from me. Not morally, I hasten to add. Politics and morals are oil and water, or magnetic poles. They repel one another. It’s about who wins. Being childless and irreligious, I personally couldn’t give a fiddler’s fuck what happens to the West. I’m sitting in the rain forest with my two hounds and I’ve got a gig tonight, so let Berlin and London and Rome burn. Doesn’t bother me. But I hope the Left are made to pay for their crimes, for trying to replace their hated whiteness with something far, far worse.

So the best of luck to Donald Trump. He has made a lot of people I despise bitter and angry, or rather more bitter and angry than they already were. He won’t have an easy time of it, of course, especially if the deep state has him killed. Imagine the Leftist glee if Trump gets a Dealey Plaza Special. That is what could kick everything off. Keep your guns oiled and clean, crackers.




Wednesday, 11 January 2017

SOUTHERN BELLETRISTE: BARBARIANS – HOW THE BABY BOOMERS, IMMIGRANTS AND ISLAM SCREWED MY GENERATION by LAUREN SOUTHERN

Hi, feminist sisters



Louise: So what happened? Were you bored in Manchester?

Johnny: Was I bored? No, I wasn’t fucking bored. I’m never bored. That’s the trouble with everybody, you’re all so bored. You’ve had nature explained and you’re bored with it, you’ve had the living body explained to you and you’re bored with it, you’ve had the universe explained to you and you’re bored with it, so now you want cheap thrills and, like, plenty of them, and it doesn’t matter how tawdry or vacuous they are as long as it’s new, as long as it’s new, as long as it’s new, as long as it flashes and fucking bleeps in forty different fucking colours. So whatever else you can say about me, I’m not fucking bored.

Mike Leigh, Naked, 1993



Is two genders not enough for you? Well, Facebook offers 58 genders for your self-identification pleasures.

Lauren Southern, Barbarians





Lauren Southern, according to Alt. Right outlier Gavin McInnes, is not just a millennial, she’s a millennial Ann Coulter. She certainly shares Coulter’s unswerving attention to the root causes of the ideological plague we find ourselves afflicted by and, although she lacks Coulter’s brash mastery of style, it is there in utero. She also lacks as yet Kathy Shaidle’s comic timing but, again, the elements of harmony are all present in Barbarians. She is a promising mixture of good things: a millennial who has rejected the anti-intellectual emotivism of her peers, a politically engaged writer who will add one more dart to the already badly punctured body of the establishment, and a feminist’s nightmare.

Lauren lays the blame for generation’s uncomprehending and ideologically-driven dysfunction at the feet of the baby boomers. They have paved the way for the snowflakes’ ball, a celebration of

‘…the nihilistic, consumerist, à la carte political consciousness that has been shoved down our throat to cover up the fact that we have experienced an utter dispossession, dilution, and disintegration of the Western soul’.

She introduces us to the plight of millennials by doing what many other writers more advanced in years – baby boomers themselves, in some cases – cannot do; taking us inside her own ‘social justice class’. Yes, she writes, this is a thing. At the end of it, during which she was harried out for political incorrectness, she has almost nothing that could be described as wisdom, but ‘I could interrogate someone else’s privilege like a Spanish Inquisitor, but wash my hands of my own like Pontius Pilate.’

Her early diagnosis of the problem, however, leads her out of her depth, and it is a specific problem affecting a number of writers from the new or re-formed Right. She rightly accuses ‘the curse of the postmodernist, deconstructionist professors making their long march through the institutions.’ (Incidentally, this is a phrase I thought originated with Gramsci, but Southern informs me that it was actually coined by German student activist Rudi Dutschke). However, and I have reason to understand this from personal experience, it is the professors themselves who cause the problem in their reading and dissemination of Southern’s two specific targets: Derrida and Foucault.

I have written about the problem of holding Derrida responsible for cultural relativism here and the same applies to Foucault. Foucault is a Nietzschean genealogist historian working within a refined philosophy area, while Derrida would be pleased with Bernard Henry Lévy’s criticism that he wrote philosophy purely for other philosophers. They are not Saul Alinsky and Russell Brand. The free-for-all concerning text and meaning which resulted from the work of the pair has been misunderstood before, and Southern once again shows the danger of harvesting your philosophical knowledge from Wikipedia. It is not a major criticism of the book, but I don’t believe Derrida and Foucault are the villains of the piece so much as the professors longing to find what I have called ‘a whiff of Gallic brimstone’.

Apart from being at the wrong end of the playground when it comes to philosophy, Southern aims at and strikes a number of far more deserving targets. ‘Conservatism’ needs to be retired as a term as;

‘My generation sees nothing worth conserving in the modern world. And we shouldn’t. To be a literal conservative today is to tacitly support the left.’

The de facto conspiracy – and it is a conspiracy, despite Leftist guffawing at the term – to destroy the white west is also neatly summed up;

‘The experiment of multiculturalism was thought up in the minds of tenured intellectuals, put on paper by virtue signaling politicians, and then enjoyed by big business globalists’.

Reductive, certainly, and very much a pocket-book sketch, but this is part of the book’s appeal. There is a sense, and you can catch its scent on social media, that a lot of millennials are beginning to sense that they have been duped. They will be requiring primers for a resurgent political Right, and Southern both speaks their language and isolates the errors they have been forced to make by classroom and seminar room ideology of the most brazen variety.

She does repeat the saw that ‘Islam has not had its enlightenment’ without considering, as Robert Spencer has noted, that Wahhabism might well have been that enlightenment. In terms of an Enlightenment, Islam lacks the intellectual capability and lability of social administration. But overall she is firm on a point snowflakes will soon be forced to confront; Islam and the West do not mix, and the attempt to make them do so will end in disaster.

Overall, this book is a rough diamond, but there are enough facets which glint in the dark to make it a good read and another strike back against the ludicrous posturing of the millennial generation. Safe spaces, freedom of speech which does not offend, micro-aggressions, no-platforming, gender neutrality, white privilege, Islamophobia, racism; all of these are the trinkets of children, and playtime is almost over. What are the intellectual orphans of today going to do when their Queer Studies degree fails to net them a job, and nothing is available further down the trough because of the refugees they held up banners to welcome? The more of them who read Southern’s book – and others which will undoubtedly emerge from a disenfranchised generation – may save themselves yet.

Lauren Southern is a partner-in-crime with fellow Canadian Ezra Levant, always a worthwhile content provider, at therebel.media and once her style and knowledge of intellectual history broadens and deepens, she is going to produce some of the greatest texts of the coming fightback against the generational sabotage that almost left her as just another snowflake in a blizzard of ignorance.




Tuesday, 10 January 2017

SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL: THE NEXT STAGE OF THE LEFT’S WAR ON EDUCATION

All Rhodes lead to this


It is odd that American education, which has traditionally been perceived as pragmatic and utilitarian – sometimes to a fault – now considers a pristine environment to be a high-priority goal. One often hears that the problem with the younger generation is that ‘it has not read the minutes of the last meeting,’ meaning it has no real sense of history. I suspect students would benefit from a greater knowledge of history, but they would benefit at least as much from a balanced interpretation of contemporary affairs and from a pedagogical approach less laden with moralistic pronouncements.


Herbert I. London, Why Are They Lying to Our Children? (Published in 1984)



As E D Hirsch says, Romantic anti-intellectualism is a luxury of the merchant class that the poor cannot afford. ‘The unfairness of an anti-bookish… approach lies in its assumption that knowledge can be equally withheld from the children of merchants and the children of peasants to achieve the same results’, he writes.

Toby Young, Prisoners of the Blob: Why Most Education Experts are Wrong About Nearly Everything





Western education is moving quickly, but its destination has nothing to do with education in the genuine, real-worldly sense of the word. When Tony Blair made his famous 1997 speech promising that the priority of his government would be ‘Education! Education! Education!’, he was not lying. His and every other government since his have made UK education its priority, but not – as the young people say – in a nice way. In terms of Western education seen as a channel for the wisdom of ages to flow into the new wine vessels of the young and impressionable, something wicked this way comes. I am sorry for the mixed metaphor followed by a Shakespeare quote, but sorrier still for the coming generations who will not know what these sentences mean.

That the Left both control education and have used its debasement at their hands to further their globalist, multiculturalist agenda is not now seriously in doubt to any but the Left themselves, and their curious secular version of taqiyya, the Koranic injunction allowing Muslims to lie for the cause of Islam. Curiously, taqiyya is Shia in origin, and Leftists tend to prefer Sunni Muslims, who hate the white West more than their post-schism co-religionists. But the Left controls education, and it does not want your children to grow up smart. It can even be argued that the Left don’t want your children to grow up at all.

Two features seem to collaborate to illustrate the importance the Left place on education and the necessity of putting a halt to it. The first I saw in Breitbart, and as such it amplifies a statement made by some Leftist halfwit into a national scandal, but it happened none the less, else Breitbart would be in the courts. The second I was dimly aware of, having written about the phenomenon which has just hit London when it was still in its American imago, 18 or so months ago.

Exhibit A, me learned friends, which makes you a threatened species. As noted, this is from a Breitbart article, but Breitbart are irritating the Pansy Left because they keep publishing things that they can’t be sued for, which is how we define the truth nowadays. This is from an article in possibly the UK’s most respected education publication;

‘“Lies” were responsible for the electoral success of Donald Trump and Brexit, and the role of teachers is to push students towards “progressive rebellion”, according to a piece in this week’s TES.

Writing in the weekly magazine for educators, which was formerly known as the Times Educational Supplement, Oliver Beach called victories for populism at the ballot box last year “frightening” and said teachers must counter the “post-truth” climate from which he claims they resulted.’

‘Post-truth’ is, philosophically speaking, a fascinating concept, and we will return to it at a later date. I assume that, if you are reading this and are not a British police officer, then the above needs no explanation or, as the young people say, ‘deconstruction’.

Of course, intellectually speaking, this man is a spastic, and I use the word advisedly in its Ancient Greek meaning, from spasmos, meaning ‘to shake uncontrollably’. This is, as we know, symptomatic of the Left. They consider a storm of inchoate rage to be some sort of noble neo-Romantic rebellion, instead of the mewling and puking of intellectual underachievers it actually is. Of course, Oliver Beach is stuffed to the gills with the milk of white hatred;

‘The world “[doesn’t] need more Donald Trumps, Nigel Farages or Marine Le Pens”, the former educator wrote. Instead, he concludes, teachers should prime children to become “Martin Luther Kings, Harvey Milks and Rosa Parks”.’

No more white politicians, thank you very much, we need a new generation of blacks and homosexuals. We wish our young people to aspire to thesis plagiarism, screwing white whores and calling it ‘fucking for god’, having promiscuous sex that does not run the risk of leading to unwanted white babies, and being able to sit down on a bus. If you have children in school, remember that Oliver Beach is waiting at the gate.

By the time your little intellectually denuded bearers of the standard of white guilt reach the university – or ‘uni’, as they will henceforth call it – they will encounter a more sophisticated version of the aggressive indoctrination championed by the TES. The difference will be that they will now be running things, the little Rosa Parks and Harvey Milks. And future Deans, if any can be found, had better beware. If your charges are not happy with their environment, out the door you will go.

The Higher Education and Research Bill reaches committee stage at The House of Lords on Monday. Now, the Lords used to be an effective system of checks and balances before it was stuffed with Blair and Cameron’s cronies and donors. Who knows what they will do, and why? But if they fail to defeat this piece of vain jugglery and humbug, the effect will be disastrous for what remains of the university system as a centre for free thinking and enquiry.

Effectively, student satisfaction would become the gold standard by which a university receives its fundings. That means that instead of a professional, objective analysis of the intellectual well-being of a university, the future of UK higher education will be placed in the hands off millennial snowflakes, pathetic, stunted creatures frightened to think and censorious of those who do. We have all seen the shrieking harpies – and they are mostly women – haranguing their elders and betters over their perceived shortcomings, faults woven from the whole cloth of delusion and fake history, and decorated at the margins with neo-Rousseauist worship of non-whites and their culture. They will be running the show if this bill passes.

The globalist, Progressivist, multiculturalist, anti-white Left has long been trying to cripple education. The over-arching impetus is that if different strands of history have combined to produce the white man as history’s victor, then that history is at fault and must be replaced by a new narrative. Add to this the false academic boosting of non-whites – except for Asians and some Muslims – and you have a brave new world that has no smart white folk in it to spoil utopia.

One day in the future, a degree will not be the requirement for employment. The workplace and its overlords will wise up. Firstly, this will be because employers will have no use for experts on patriarchal narrative who won’t do any work until they feel safe in their environment. And I’m not talking about hard hats and goggles and high-visibility jackets. I’m talking about micro-aggressions, perceived slights – which will include any criticism – delusional sexual harassment, gender neutral toilets, appropriate language and a whole panoply of time-wasting distractions that will not get things done. Secondly, employers will look to those who are capable, and that is those who are the autodidacts, those who have taught themselves. I’m going to deal with self-education at greater length (Traumavillians gasp in delight and appreciation, and both hug one another) so we’ll leave it there. But for now it is enough to say that education is becoming ever-more worthless as the parameters of what can be taught shrink and contract. How long before that stream of ignorance finds its way into the wider waters of the real world?




Monday, 9 January 2017

A TIRESOME OCCUPATION: ETHNICALLY CLEANSING THE SYLLABUS

Imagine waking up to her



In the wake of the suggestion that London's School of Oriental and Asian Studies remove white philosophers from their philosophy syllabus, here is a reprint of a piece I wrote for the New English Review in July 2015. Some slight amendments have been made for temporal consistency.


[P]iety appears to her a tiresome occupation, and a confirmed enemy to all pleasure.

The Private Journal of Madame Campan



A teacher… is afraid of his students and flatters them, while the students despise their teachers...

Plato, The Republic




Student occupations, like the poor, will be always with us. There was one at my own university in the 1980s, protesting a slight increase in the already cheap and heavily subsidised rental tariff the university charged students to live on campus in pleasant and generous accommodation. Undergraduates broke into and occupied faculty buildings, destroying files and furniture, daubing slogans on walls and defecating in the office of the Dean.

I had recently directed a student production of Webster’s The White Devil at the university’s excellent theatre, and the show had been an unexpected hit. I was rather proud, having cast the play myself from the pool of student talent, set it in 1930s gangster Chicago, and composed and recorded the musical score myself. The show, by the standards of student economics, made a lot of money for re-investment in the next production. Unfortunately, the money was not ring-fenced, and it was all used up as part of the post-occupation clean-up. Perhaps that explains the rather sneering attitude I have when I hear about student occupation.

For the post-modern, progressive student of the humanities, however, occupying mere buildings is somewhat passé, as students already own today’s campuses. That’s not to say that some undergraduate collective has gone about the place buying head leases and freeholds at auction, but rather that students now dictate the geography of Western universities, with their safe zones, racially segregated events, free-speech gazebos, and various other havens from the micro-aggressions and white privilege which lurk in every seminar room. No, occupying the physical infrastructure of a university is yesterday’s news. Students have moved on to the occupation of what they are supposed to be at university to learn; the syllabus itself.

Occupy the Syllabus is a curious document produced at the start of this year by Rodrigo Kazuo and Meg Perret, students at UC Berkeley and, in Perret’s case (dare one say ‘Ms.’?), a tireless intern at something called the Gender Equity Resource Center. This call to academic arms has as its mission statement its second paragraph, reproduced here in full:

‘We have major concerns about social theory courses in which white men are the only authors assigned. These courses pretend that a minuscule fraction of humanity – economically privileged white males from five imperial countries (England, France, Germany, Italy and the United States) – are the only people to produce valid knowledge about the world. This is absurd. The white male syllabus excludes all knowledge produced outside this standardised canon, silencing the perspectives of the other 99 per cent of humanity.’

The whole document repays inspection, and may be read here. Detailed critique is unnecessary as Occupy the Syllabus essentially satirises itself. It is the implication of its message which detains us here, not the message itself.

The co-authors lament that a course on ‘classical social theory… did not include a single woman or person of colour.’ All people are, of course, people of colour; we would be invisible else. What the authors mean is that the syllabus does not contain any writers of one of the academically approved colours. Students are no longer in their ivory tower, but occupy a less phallocentric structure – and preferably in ebony.

Although Occupy the Syllabus begins as intellectual pap before going sharply downhill, its importance is not in its credibility but in what it symptomatises; students are now increasingly setting the curricular agenda, an agenda that in fact holds no genuine feeling for women, ‘people of colour’, or any other vogueish victim group, but is predicated on the Leftist, progressivist need to control thought and language. In the same way that measles presents as red spots, progressivist yearning for control presents as the self-hating politics of grievance, identity and victimhood. As Bruce Thornton writes in FrontPage magazine:

‘Modern progressivism is at heart grievance politics, the core of which is not universal principle, but identity predicated on being a victim of historical crimes like sexism and racism, and on suffering from wounding slights defined as such by the subjective criteria of the now privileged victim who is beyond judgement or criticism.’ (June 8, 2015).

Students are able to impose this type of garbled pushiness because they are increasingly realising that what they want to get away with, they can. They resemble criminals in inner-city areas, realising that no matter what outrages they commit, the police are not going to come and stop them. In fact, the police are more likely to persecute their victims. Thus, American professor Edward Schlosser, in an article entitled I’m a liberal professor, and my liberal students terrify me, flags up the self-preservation society that American teaching has become:

‘I once saw an adjunct not get his contract renewed after students complained that he exposed them to “offensive” texts… That was enough to get me to comb through my syllabi and cut out anything I could see upsetting a coddled undergrad...’ (Vox, June 3, 2015).

Occupy the Syllabus is a similar rap sheet of inappropriate texts and oppressive readings. ‘We were required to read Hegel on the “Oriental realm” and Marx on the “Asiatic mode of production”, but not a single author from Asia’, it simpers, as though a text on the Industrial Revolution would be invalid without reading the diary of a rivetter as well. We note in passing that Karl Marx, an impecunious sponger, would be turning in his Highgate Cemetery grave to read himself described as ‘economically privileged’.

For Kazuo and Perret, it is not merely racial quotas that are troubling; modeish causes célèbres are also shockingly omitted from the teacher’s art:

‘The professor even failed to mention the Ferguson events, even though he lectured about prisons, normalising discourse and the carceral archipelago in Foucault’s Discipline and Punish the day after the grand jury decision on the murder of Michael Brown.’

And, lest ye scoff, think of the harm this type of ‘exclusionary education’ can do to today’s larval geniuses. Steel yourselves. ‘Sometimes,’ the authors shockingly inform us, ‘we were so uncomfortable that we had to leave the classroom in the middle of lectures.’

Of course, there is an added attraction to ethnic and gender cleansing of the humanities curriculum; it makes it easier. I remember English undergraduates catching the exotic aroma of philosophy and deciding to try a module or two, before retreating back to their chosen subject once they realised that a feminist critique of Jane Austen cut into their social lives far less than did 600 pages of Spinoza. Ultimately, perhaps today’s ‘uni’ students – for whom the word ‘university’ is already as archaic as ‘manufactory’ – wish to ban all white devils from their wish-list of gratificatory, lightweight, intellectual beach reading because the alternative – intellectual endeavour – is too gruelling a prospect.

Thus, when the authors of Occupy the Syllabus state their wish to ‘dismantle the tyranny of the white male syllabus [and] demand the inclusion of women, people of color and LGBTQ authors on our curriculum’, it may not be because they are social justice warriors, but because they find white culture – usually their own – too hard. Far easier to remove the difficulty by importing less demanding reading. One day, if the progressivists continue their long march, the curricular landscape of the universities will bring to mind Dorothy Parker’s decision to leave the New Yorker because every short story printed seemed to be about someone’s childhood in India.

At the end of a hateful document, however, love is all you need, and the authors of Occupy the Syllabus (surely coming as a set text to a university near you soon) finish with a challenge:

‘[I]f you have taken classes in the social sciences and humanities, we challenge you: Count the readings authored by white males and those authored by the majority of humanity. Then ask yourself: Are your identities and the identities of people you love reflected on these syllabi?’[Emphasis added]

For, along with the desire to control dissident thought, this is what is at issue. If the syllabus cannot be turned into a ‘Me Report’ for a new, millennial generation of obtuse, ethnomasochistic, narcissistic praise junkies, then it must be consigned to the flames. Students today are cheerfully subverting the whole point of the university – free intellectual enquiry – in favour of bigoted, dogmatic orthodoxies to which the faculty will adhere if they wish to continue working. Today’s wobbly-lipped students resemble the Puritans, frightened lest someone, somewhere is dancing. Instead, this intolerant herd of simpletons will not and cannot feel safe in their learning environments if there is the remotest possibility that a fellow student is gaining intellectual sustenance from the oppressive tomes of dead white men. Black students and their self-hating white imperial guard can never rest easy as long as someone white, somewhere, might be enjoying Conrad’s Heart of Darkness or N-word of the Narcissus.

Before I left London for Central America, partly to escale the coming revival of the Dark Ages, my local theatre Shakespeare’s rebuilt (and relocated) Globe. At a performance of Richard II, I became aware of a group of South African students behind me becoming restless as we wound into Act II. At the interval, with Irish wars and rebellion looming, one of the students expressed dismay at finding there was a whole second half to go.

With the help of some judicious direction adding a little slapstick and camp to the remainder of one of the Bard’s weaker plays, the students were won over, chattering away as we filed out about which characters they liked, and what led Richard to his hubris. The knowledge the Globe’s directors have of their often young audience notwithstanding, I thought; Shakespeare did this. Another dead white man who must doubtless be ethnically cleansed from an oppressive canon.

I suddenly felt glad I had gone to university in the 1980s rather than one of the anti-intellectual gulags of today. True, I was once hissed while presenting a seminar paper on Heidegger – because, you know, Heidegger was, like, a Nazi – but there was still a basic recognition that the white, male European canon provided the architecture of our heritage. Then, during their occupation, my student colleagues had merely thought it expedient to defecate on the Dean of faculty’s table. They had not been taught – yet – that it is necessary to relieve themselves on the graves of the dead white men who built Western culture.

Saturday, 7 January 2017

NIGGER PLEASE: HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE BLACK LIVES MATTER?


Aspiring rappers, models, sportsmen and good kids, just last week



Kochman observes that whites find the black style ‘dysfunctional’ and often retreat into silence before it…

Mark Levin, Why Race Matters



Remember: America is nothing more than an open-air prison for white people; you might not be able to see the bars, but they exist right in front of you.

Paul Kersey, Bell Curve City





Black culture is in serious trouble, but it always seems that white people have to pick up the bill. It might be informative if someone - someone white, of course - were to work out how much black people cost America each year in policing costs, welfare, healthcare and the other spiraling costs associated with rabid dysfunction. Blacks present the same list of problems for the USA that Muslim arrivistes are bringing into Europe. The white man’s burden never really went away. It just became the white man’s cheque book.

Of course, one is not really supposed to point this out. The gifted writer Thomas Sowell retired recently, and ‘black Twitter’, as it has become known, gave him a really shitty sending off. Sowell, you see, made the cardinal mistake of being a black man who told the truth about black men. That will not do. We don’t want Uncle Toms and Oreos round these parts, thank you very much. What the elites seem to want is a bit more Black Lives Matter.

Black Lives Matter is toxic. It needs to be said and said again. White people need to be reading Paul Kersey, Greg Johnson, Jared Taylor and Colin Flaherty, actually learning about the reality of the black effect on the otherwise civilised West. Don’t ever get your attitudes towards black ‘culture’ from the legacy media. The enemedia are at their traitorous worst when it comes to blacks. The owners of the media – and they need no introduction – have seen what a useful weapon inchoate black rage is, and they feed it with myths of slavery and ethnic quotas for movies.

Blacks, of course, will continue to be thrown scraps from the white man’s table. We’ll have a black James Bond, black Oscars, lots more films about slavery, houses in white areas to make black people feel like they are being treated equally with hated whitey. Hell, they might even put a schwarze on the moon. There’s already been one in the White House, although I was never quite sure why a half-cast man was celebrated as being black. Why not equally celebrate his whiteness?

Of course, when the subject of race rears up its horny and scaled head, our old enemies in the media take the weapons from the wall. In the last couple of days alone, four black people who kidnapped and tortured a mentally handicapped man – a Donald Trump supporter - while shouting racial abuse have been deemed not to have committed a racially motivated crime. Also, a Hispanic man who went on a killing spree at an airport had his skin tone deliberately lightened by the (((media))) to make his photo look white for prime-time news. Whites are under constant attack but, as ever, the narrative shows as a negative, like a film negative. A niggertive, if you like.

And whites have to shoulder the blame for black dysfunction, although not in the way that the establishment would like to force you to believe. As Paul Kersey writes, racism is holding blacks responsible for their actions.

If blacks stopped to think about anything important for one second, they would realise that it is in their genuine interest to team up with us crackers and take on the elites, Obama and his ilk included. Obama has betrayed blacks like no white man ever could, allowing them to sink deeper into the mire they have created for themselves by telling them that whites are responsible for their plight. And this is not simply a north American problem. The UK features an absurd little black man called Lee Jasper who honestly believes that the reason young black men are responsible for most of the gun crime in London is that they are reacting to white racism with justifiable rage. It is cunts such as Jasper who keep the status quo in London as unpleasant as it is, and also lead to white flight and the continuing denial of black responsibility.

A very dear friend of mine in London works at what the British call a Sixth-Form College, a place of education which caters for children from the ages of 16 to 18. It used to be a nightmare. In addition to their curricular responsibilities, teachers had to triangulate their lessons to keep black gang members from different gangs apart. My friend described the typical black college experience as being a cross between social networking and a modelling catwalk. Black students have a doubly deleterious effect on the white student body. Those they do not directly threaten try to imitate them. There is nothing more pathetic than a white child acting and talking black, and nothing more likely to debar them from employment.

My friend would look at the list of kids allowed to go on the next college outing: Michael, Sarah, Steven, Angela, Paul… And then he would flip the page and read the names of those excluded for persistent trouble-making: Shakeela, Everton, Tramina, Jay-Qwon, Beyoncé… Blacks, given half a chance – and they are given far more than that by the white elites – will spoil everything for everyone. The head teacher of the college finally plucked up some courage and expelled a couple of hundred students, all of them black. The college has since leapt up the league table of excellence.

It really is time for whites to stop kow-towing to black sensibilities as promoted by the white media. Why is Soros allowed to bankroll Black Lives Matter with impunity? Is this just Jew mischief – and even the most Jewish among you can’t deny that that phenomenon exists – or does the conspiracy run deeper?

Facebook refused to answer questions as to why they allowed the live streaming of the recent torture to stay live for half an hour. Zuckerberg, another Israelite, has made quite a name for himself sucking up to Muslims and blacks, via his friend Angela Merkel, the first German Chancellor to achieve positive PR work for Hitler. It is time to boycott Facebook. I’m certainly coming off it for pastures new.

Blacks will have to accept some truths in the coming months, and first among them is that whites are tired of their shit. They are tired of having to pay for it, tired of having to witness it, tired of seeing it defended by primarily white elites, and above all tired of being told it is their fault. If blacks are genuinely looking for a race war, which would be very inadvisable because they would lose heavily, they are going the right way about it, and the agitator-in-chief is the race-hustling pimp about to vacate the White House.

I remember the first day Obama was elected. I was looking after a hundred or so apartments in a well-off part of London. One of the ladies on the board of the residential trust came to see me in my little office, tears literally in her eyes. She was a hard-headed ex-nurse from Yorkshire. I asked her if she was okay. Yes, she said. It’s just the result. I asked her which of Obama’s policies had most impressed her in the run-up to the election. She gave me that slant-eyed look the Left give when someone is exhibiting all the signs of wrongthink. That, she said, is not really the point.

No, the point was that Whitey had thrown another scrap of fetid meat to the black man, and she got to have her feelgood five minutes of not being a racist.

I’ll leave you with a thought-experiment by Ann Coulter;

“I read Obama’s books to help me understand just what it is that makes black people so afraid. Their demons. The way ideas get twisted around. It helps me understand how people learn to hate.

The above paragraph is a precise paraphrase of what Obama wrote in Dreams from my Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance, explaining why he read Joseph Conrad’s 1902 classis Heart of Darkness, with ‘white people’ switched out for ‘black people’.”






Friday, 6 January 2017

A KORAN AND A DRAWN SWORD: THE COMPLETE INFIDEL’S GUIDE TO ISIS by ROBERT SPENCER





‘It looks as if Islam had a bigger hand in the thing than we thought,’ I said. ‘I fancy religion is the only thing to knit up such a scattered empire’.


John Buchan, Greenmantle



Islam is a fighting creed, and the mullah still stands in the pulpit with the Koran in one hand and a drawn sword in the other.

Ibid.





I believe I heard it for the first time on a talk-radio show on London’s LBC, a regular programme hosted by James O’Brien. O’Brien will be known to those of you reading in the UK. He is a public-school-educated bien pensant, a self-proclaimed Socialist and a cultural Marxist. He is also a radio presenter. His parish is the multiculturalist Liberal-Left, and he often uses his dexterity with the radio format to make those who disagree with his dogma look foolish or inept. One of the laments you hear often on his programme, when Islam is the topic – and it often is – is that non-Muslims know nothing of Islam and make no effort to learn. So it was that one morning I heard a sanctimonious Muslima denouncing the kufr for just such an omission. Right, thought I.

And for the next decade and a half I did educate myself concerning Mohammedanism, although not from sources of which the young lady or her imam would approve. What they would have had in mind, as would O’Brien, is the kind of literature they give to European schoolchildren, the kindly editions which patiently explain that Islam means ‘peace’, that Muslims invented everything from the printing press to the smartphone, that Islamic recipes are delicious, burkas are traditional costume of the type that their own countrymen used to be allowed to wear, and that the arrival of many, many more Muslims into their countries is a very good thing indeed, and to question that is the worst type of racism, racism being itself the worst type of crime.

They didn’t want me reading Robert Spencer. Spencer, along with Pamela Geller, is probably the best known of the north American counterjihadis, and the pair were notoriously banned from entering Britain on a speaking engagement by then Home Secretary Theresa May, the same woman often seen wearing Islamic dress, and who has allowed several ‘hate preachers’ to come to the UK. Spencer and Geller are associates of Tommy Robinson and Geert Wilders. These people are the new heretics, harassed by a malevolent and dictatorial new church. That is the problem with churches, if they don’t contain gods, they are dangerous places. But I digress.

Any of Spencer’s books are a worthwhile primer on all things Islamic, and his website Jihad Watch is a mine of information, and a good deal less shrill than Pamela Geller’s. I once heard Spencer debate an imam on a recording taken from an American radio show. After five minutes, Spencer was quoting and referencing freely from the Koran to back up his points, and it seemed a book his slow-witted adversary was less than familiar with. The Complete Infidel’s Guide to ISIS is as good a place as any to start, and an indispensable introduction to an organization created by Obama and the West, and both funded and defended by the elites.

The broad areas of discussion are the history of ISIS, its differences with other Islamic terrorist groups, the defence of ISIS by the Western elites and their denial that ISIS is Islamic, the manner in which ISIS operates and has its appeal, and the consequences of its importation into a Europe and USA wholly unprepared for the upcoming and inevitable European proxy war.

I distinctly remember David Cameron, possibly the most ungifted Prime Minister ever to reside at 10 Downing Street, informing a grateful world that ISIS was in no way to be connected with Islam. So, we have a simpleton who is possibly the worst advertising Eton College ever had, a PR man who knows more about which silver-service knife you use to eat fish than he knows about Islam, telling us with a concerned look that his beloved Muslim voting bloc – Muslims are actually Conservative with a capital C – has nothing at all to do with ISIS. On the other hand, we have the head of ISIS, Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, stating unequivocally that ISIS exists solely to practice Islam in its purest form. He comes from a family of clerics. He has a Ph.D. in Islamic law from the Islamic university in Baghdad. In all seriousness, who has the greater right of testament?

And the rhetoric from the West is not confined to this sort of bone-headed denial, which people like Cameron don’t even believe to be true. One of the old saws – I use to repeat it myself years ago – is that Islam needs its Reformation. Spencer patiently points out that it has already had it. It is called Wahhabism. Spencer gives a potted history of Islam according to 18th-century cleric Muhammad ibn Abdul al-Wahhab which shows his desire to purify Islam – and not in a nice way – and leading to Spencer’s conclusion;

‘Al-Qaeda is simply an especially virulent outgrowth of Wahhabism. And ISIS is just an especially virulent outgrowth of Al-Qaeda.’

A vital theme of Spencer’s book – and it has sub-stories like a good thriller – is that one of the way’s the Western leaders lie about Islam is to treat groups such as ISIS as cave-dwelling, yak-wool-underpanted goat people. Spencer shows convincingly that they have absorbed all the slick PR moves of the West. ISIS is a film production company, a newspaper and book publisher, a military machine, a financial hub and a front-page act. As the Italians used to say about the Mafia; If only my business ran that well.

They are covering all angles. The Islamic state has attempted to gain converts by Tweeting its support of the Ferguson demonstrators. They are believers in the End Times, with a final war to decide the fate of the world. They are intentionally aligning themselves with the Left wing in Europe, and not just the far-Left but the useful-idiot, celebrity stratum of failed intellects with a bit of a hard-on for a dusky and revolutionary ideology. Their parents got to have fun with Mao. Now it’s their turn.

And, as for converts, Spencer makes the case for ISIS’s appeal in a neat and concise way;

‘There is absolutely no chance that these young man will trade being a noble mujahid, waging jihad for the sake of Allah, for a chance to greet people entering Walmart or spend their days saying, “Would you like fries with that?”’

The list of historical places and relics destroyed by these savages is perhaps the hardest part of the book for any lover of civilisation. ISIS are barbarians, and should be treated as such. That Obama described them as a Junior Varsity team is testament to just how stupid that preening little chaffinch is.

ISIS are the go-to movie guys on the internet right now. Bored with watching Saw again? Tired of violent video games? Why not watch a Jordanian pilot burned alive in a cage, holding his hands to his agonised head and unable to remove them because they had stuck to his temples. Men kneeling in submission – the real translation of ‘Islam’ – while their heads are sawn off with a cerrated, and possibly blunt, knife. Gays hung and thrown from buildings. Women stoned, boiled and burned.

And yet Tweeting about this will bring you to the attention of the authorities, and get you banned from social media. Have a think about that.

The Kindle edition of ISIS is not cheap, but it is money well spent if you wish to learn the Islam your rulers do not want you to see. Eventually, books such as this will contribute to the coming emancipation, once the ashes have been produced to birth the required phoenix. Spencer quotes, toward the end of the book, from How to Survive in the West, an ISIS publication;

‘A real war is heating up in the heart of Europe’.

Bring it. We are waiting. And should you ever find yourself serving in the trenches, keep a copy of Spencer in your knapsack.