Wednesday, 23 August 2017

ALT. RIGHT, ALTAMONT

Just a shot away


Charlottesville has been called the Alt Right’s Altamont. Battles of one sort or another are often used as a metaphor for a defining moment in the life of a person, nation or movement. You can face your Waterloo, a blitz, a Dunkirk situation. But what are you facing if you face your Altamont?
Altamont, of course, marked the end of the Love Decade. Fittingly, too, as the 1960s were the years in which the seeds of the West’s present predicament were sown. But blame for the carnage at Altamont – always amplified by the white Liberal media because the most prominent of the dead was gun-wielding thug Meredith Hunter, who was a black man – has to reside at the feet of their Satanic majesties, The Rolling Stones.
If, on its publication in 1966, Mick Jagger had read Hunter S. Thompson’s book Hell’s Angels: The Strange and Terrible Saga of the Outlaw Motorcycle Gangs, he might have reconsidered his band’s ill-advised hiring of the Angels as security at Altamont. But he would have been too busy.
Charlottesville was supposed to have security too. They were called the police. What in fact happened was the reverse of Altamont. The police stood down, as they often do both in the US and across Europe and Britain, and the precise strategy behind their failure to keep the peace will have been a deep-state command to endanger, incriminate and effectively frame the Right-wing, white north Americans wanting to make their feelings known about the removal and vandalization of treasured monuments. This lack of engagement emboldens and provokes the Left into ever more violence, which is then blamed on the Right by a partisan and shameless media.
Now that the Leftist/media narrative has been grafted in place, and the truth reversed as it always is in these cases, the Charlottesville conflict is more like the Reichstag fire than Altamont. Unite the Right was always a poorly chosen escapade, acting as a red rag for the punks of Antifa and the odious Black Lives Matter. This organization, in passing, really ought to be given its full title; Black Lives Matter to White Liberals but Not to Other Blacks. But it will take more than a few protests against the removal of Confederate statues to unite the Right.
From memory, what appalled George Orwell most about his experience fighting Franco – as outlined in Homage to Catalonia – was not the poor state of the rifles, the disgusting state of the trenches, or even the plague of lice which made his life agony. What disgusted him most was the lack of unity and cohesion among supposedly allied forces. Essentially, he had wandered into a Life of Brian-style Judean People’s Front situation, and this is much where the Alt. Right finds itself now.
My advice is to allow the Leftist, liberal, progressive, open borders, feminist, Black Lives Matter, Antifa, LGBTQ, Muslim hordes to win. Once ordinary people begin to scent what a world run by these freaks will be like, statues will begin to be put back into place.
Charlottesville wasn’t Altamont for Alt. Right. It was more like the Charge of the Light Brigade. In the wrong direction.

Monday, 21 August 2017

THE END OF THE AFFAIR? NOT QUITE…









We shall not cease from exploration,

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.



T S Eliot, Little Gidding





As every pet owner knows all too well, there comes a time when the poor animal needs to be put to sleep. So it is with weblogs. I estimate that Postcards from Traumaville is around four years old. And it is starting to hobble, its eyes clouding with filmy, milky white cataracts. Time, perhaps, for the final injection and sentimental burial in the back yard…

I began the weblog for a number of reasons. I needed to know what I believe, politically, and to be able to go back and see the evolution, if any, of those beliefs.

I needed to release anger, a requirement which has got me into a great deal of trouble over the years on various social media platforms or, in my case, anti-social media platforms.

Most of all, I needed to hone my writing style. Writing is very important to me, as is reading. I hope that there will be a book in Traumaville, once the fat is stripped from the bone – I have getting on for a quarter of a million words – and that that book would have something valuable to say.

On a practical level, I devote as much time as I can to playing music, as that is more or less my only possible source of income. Blogging, of course, earns you nothing except a few readers and the possible if unwelcome attention of the authorities.

Time for the good burghers of Traumaville to retire, then.

And yet, and yet…

I have always maintained that a weblog is a more democratic tool than a vote. What use is a vote if the candidates are Tweedledum and Tweedledee? Any genuine and radical party representing a push against the status quo is neutered by the gaming of the electoral systems of Europe by the progressive, globalist parties. See Geert Wilders, Germany’s AfD and the Sweden Democrats as examples. The only electoral surprise – and a serious glitch in the matrix set in place by the elites – was Donald Trump’s victory in north America.

Dissent is important for self-respect and, with a weblog, even if you are speaking to a few tens of readers, you are registering your dissent. Prosecutions for hate speech, once a rarity, are becoming commonplace across Europe. My own Twitter account has been suspended for weeks, and I can’t delete it. I have often gone way beyond what is acceptable to the lickspittle British police, and have Tweeted them directly many times, goading and jeering and criticizing. It may be that they are planning their revenge. I am not attempting to sound self-important, but I may be looking at jail time if I return to the UK. I hope so. There is a clause in Costa Rica’s constitution which allows someone to claim political asylum if they face persecution in their home countries for their political beliefs. We shall see.

In the meantime, it is not possible to stop thinking about what Guillaume Faye termed the ‘convergence of catastrophes’, the doom that is coming to Europe at the very least, and therefore it is not possible to stop writing about it. As I warned years ago, the elites are coming for the internet, so one may as well use it while one can, like having a quick last game of snooker on the Titanic.

When I say that the elites are coming for the internet, I mean, of course, certain sections of it. The Left finally got what they wanted at Charlottesville, and since then several dissident and Alt. Right websites have either disappeared or had their platforms removed. The so-called ‘tech giants’ are marionettes of the rulers, and dance to their drum and fife. Alternative Right; Gone. Counter Currents; Threatened with deletion. The Daily Stormer; Denied service. Stuff Black People Don’t Like; Inaccessible. All in the last week. Facebook pulls sites of which it disapproves, and the vast majority of them are Right-wing, as it is now defined. Twitter does the same.

And how is ‘Right-wing’ now defined? I am far from being the only person to have noted repeatedly that the old, Parisian terms ‘Left’ and ‘Right’ are now wholly inadequate to describe the political divisions which have come into sharp focus since Brexit and Trump. These divisions have never been so clear. Prior to the last momentous year, it was possible to have a certain admixture of elements from Left and Right and maintain both within a single belief system, in the same way Plato reminds us that good and evil can exist within the same person. I myself would describe myself as Right wing, a political conservative. It didn’t stop me feeling sick at my last job, watching residents from the block I managed walking from their million-pound apartments across the road to sit in the doctor’s office, next to the poor people of south-east London, and expect to use the same free NHS services. Those people should, in my view, be forced to take out health insurance via upwards means testing. They could then drive to a private doctor in their expensive cars. So even I have a vestigial Leftist organ, like an appendix or coccyx. Now, it is either/or. At least, it is for the Progressive.

Well, this post has been a ramble but, in the end, I think Traumaville is still open for tourism, which is more than you can say for Europe. A world is being constructed by a disgraceful set of people and, if you fail to write about this when you can, you become one of them. Traumaville redux.