Intervention

The Morning After

People can’t help but rubberneck when they drive past the scene of a car accident. It’s human nature. Many people read the tabloids to gawk at the self-destructing celebrities. Depending on the context, it can be tragic or comedic, but it’s always captivating. At times, it’s even a thing of beauty. One of the most sinister rituals in contemporary American culture is that of transforming the maturation of our child celebrities into an orgiastic explosion of sexual exploitation, culminating in the girl’s complete loss of innocence, dignity, and mental health.

Beauty and genius are fascinating things to behold whether they manifest in the form of creativity or destruction. A good example of how greatness can manifest in radically different forms is in Admiral Morrison, one of the great military leaders of WWII, and his son named Jim. Both men left a Dionysian legacy, with the elder leaving a legacy of distinguished military service and the younger leaving a legacy of degeneracy and self-destruction. While The Lizard King‘s life was a short and drug-addled disaster, his creative energy left a lasting imprint on American culture.

The Lizard King

A favorite television show in our home is A&E’s Intervention. Each episode follows the daily life of a spiraling addict. The joy of watching it is purely in gawking at these people at their most pathetic, though the show embeds a theme of “intervening” that allows one to feel as if he’s participating in something greater than crass voyeurism. After several minutes of prying into the intimate details of the person’s self-destructive and miserable behavior, a counselor convenes the addict and his family in a hotel room for the “intervention”. The climax of the show is when the addict makes his decision, either agreeing to go to treatment amidst hugs and sighs of relief or throwing a tantrum and storming out of the room.

The most heartbreaking part of the show is watching their loved ones pouring their time, energy, and love into the self-destructive wretches. In many ways, we White Advocates are the sober family members of our White American brothers and sisters who are high on decadent pop culture, lost in hallucinogenic fantasies of global brotherhood, drunk on easy credit, and addicted to the Pavlovian pursuit of the status pellets in our managerial Skinner Box.

Mel is Boiling Over

It’s emotionally exhausting to be a White Advocate. It’s saddening to see our people reduced to what they’ve become, especially knowing what they’re capable of. It hurts to be shunned by friends and loved ones as a moral defective for refusing to drink the Kool-Aid. Many of us understandably bottle up our frustration, attempting to “ride the tiger” of modernity. But this often spills over into the kinds of frightening outbursts that confirm the worst stereotypes about us. While Christopher Hitchens is despicable, I suspect his recent article associating Mel Gibson’s violent outbursts with his Traditional Catholic beliefs is partially true. Pretending you don’t notice that everything worth cherishing in this world is falling apart can fuel an impotent rage bound to boil over sooner or later.

And even when we do remain calm, we sound like nags and killjoys. Kurtagic aptly describes our general effect on our audience…

Presently, the White advocate is the gentleman who arrives at a party wanting to switch on the bright lights and turn off the music, to tell everyone to sober up and put out their cigarettes, to scold them for wasting food and electricity, and to inform them that the lawn needs mowing, the floors need scrubbing, the drains need clearing, the overdraft needs paying, the and garbage needs taking out. And when the lung cancer patient is dying, the White advocate is the gentleman who tells him, “See? I told you so! I told you smoking is bad for you, but no, you wouldn’t listen! Now you’ve got what you deserved! And if you think you have it bad now, it will only get worse!”

A LeBron James Fan

Many carelessly equate an understanding of the facts with White Nationalism, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. Millions, if not tens of millions, or perhaps even a majority of people, know that our White American people are faced with an existential threat. Some, like Scott Locklin and Ferdinand Bardamu are more familiar with the situation than most White Nationalists, and yet they openly and shamelessly participate in the fray. For them, our descent into repulsive consumerist caricatures is comedy, not tragedy.

Our societal fabric is unraveling. Takeaway: It’s easier to score with chicks.

The most important thing that separates the White Nationalist from the rest is a spirit of stewardship. It has less to do with being a “race realist” and more to do with having an unconditional love for our extended family that drives us to stick with the addict when everybody else has given up on him. We don’t necessarily consider our race “supreme” any more than we consider our children supreme. We have eyes, too. We see our men fawning like teenage girls over LeBron James. We see our brash and barren women clamoring for sexual attention. White America has become a monstrous and pathetic shadow of its true self.

How one could carry on about the superiority of the White race in the midst of our current situation is beyond me. I’m not implying that we’re inferior, mind you. But this is no time to brag. We have, within a single lifetime, plummeted from the wealthiest, most creative, and most powerful nation in history into a black hole of decadence, depravity, and debt. Most White Americans are too distracted to even notice and most of the remainder don’t give a shit.

Ideologues

But there’s reason to be hopeful. Our generation of advocates may well be the one with an honest chance to take it back. The system is beginning to unravel. The future we’ve been borrowing against for decades has arrived. White Americans are increasingly cognizant of the system’s anti-White agenda. The neighborhood’s going to hell and the safe White neighborhoods are harder to find and harder to afford. Not that they could get out from under their upside-down mortgages if they found somewhere to hide.

It’s the morning after for White America.

Demagogues

America’s awakening – with a terrible hangover. People are looking for answers, turning away from the regime’s “experts” who got them into this situation. We need to be out there on the streets and in the culture war, taking our message to our people and proving ourselves as their foremost defenders.

Usurpers

Being right isn’t enough and being the only vanguard that’s truly and unconditionally on their side isn’t enough, either. It doesn’t have to end this way, but it will unless we can coalesce into a credible and competent political machine for them to turn to. We’re entering a new stage in the struggle, one in which our victory or defeat will be decided by our ability to break away from the pack of ideologues, demagogues, and usurpers.

White Americans are like an addict who’s “hit rock bottom”, reaching that point where the situation is too stark to deny and the misery too unbearable to abide.

It’s time for an intervention.