Ray tells of a time in America that will, soon enough, seem like the ravings of a fantasist to our future Woke Americans who can’t conceive of such a heaven on earth.
I was born in the late fifties into the same small Kansas town where my mother and father grew up. My grandparents all lived in that same town. Everyone was basically German, with a smattering of other northern European ethnicities thrown into the mix. The Main Street had everything anyone could possibly need to buy, from groceries to hardware. There were several Protestant churches that were always packed on Sundays, and one Catholic church on the edge of town, as well. There was no crime to speak of… we had one policeman, who spent most of his time bringing groceries to shut-ins. (He was a friend of my father’s, and my dad would joke about it.) We kids (and there were tons of us!) were outside from sun up to sun down, playing and fishing and riding bikes and building things. Every family had a garden out back, and sometimes a small orchard, and some folks raised a steer for winter beef, or kept chickens. That was in town! Every holiday was an opportunity for everyone in the family to get together and have some fun and good food. It was a warm, safe, sunny, idyllic way to grow up.
That all began to change in the seventies. People became much more materialistic, thanks in part to Mom taking a job outside the home and having all that extra cash. The new color television encouraged people to buy buy buy. Parents began divorcing and all my friends’ families disintegrated. People began staying inside from sun up to sun down. Where were all the kids? Inside, playing those new video games! The gardens went to weeds.The first black family moved into town. Hey, where’s my bike?
After college, I moved to another state for a job. When I returned home for a funeral last summer, I didn’t recognize the place. It was like that scene from “It’s a Wonderful Life,” when George Bailey gets to see what his small town was like without him in it. The streets had all been widened, there were cars everywhere, and the town had become mile after mile of shopping and fast food joints. Main Street was dead and boarded up. There was a new GIGANTIC shopping Mall, though. It had been built on top of the land where my grandparents’ farm had been.
I sat at a table outside of one of the Mall’s restaurants, sipping a coffee and watching the people as they came and went. Most were fat, poorly dressed, and had a generally unhealthy appearance. They all looked so sad and stressed.
I thought of that YouTube video “Never Forget,” showing archival footage of daily life in a small town in South Dakota in 1938. A town filled with happy, healthy, well-dressed people. My home town used to be that way, too.
But now it is gone. The modern way of life is a curse, for sure.
I want you to listen to this song while you read Ray’s story:
You’ll be reminded of your ancestral spirit, long dormant, now awakened. Allow that feeling to energize you. A reckoning is coming.
I think this is the video about 1938 South Dakota which Ray referenced:
Something’s missing. Where are the fat women?
The diversity?
The poz?
So strange, this faraway land.
***
Commenter realone fast forwards to the present day, when he stumbled onto a rift in the time-space continuum, and for a brief moment that faded, beautiful America appeared in front of him, crystal clear, and he was inspired by it.
I was traveling in a very blue part of a very blue state recently. I popped into a McDonalds to grab some coffee and take a break. I was up at the counter when two little girls ran up. The older girl was likely big sister and asked for something like extra ketchup or napkins. The younger girl was an adorable White brunette, maybe about four years old.
The younger girl said “I want orange juice.”
She wasn’t whiny or complaining in her voice or the way she was standing. She wasn’t demanding. She was simply stating.
Something struck me to my very core, to my heart. I walked up to the teller and said “give her the orange juice, and I will pay for it.”
The mystery meat teller looked at me with a blank stare like he didn’t understand what I was saying. I repeated myself. A manager looking type (young White woman) came over as I repeated again that I would pay for an orange juice for the little girl. The manager looked at me, looked at the precious little girl and then went and poured an orange juice. She signaled to me that I didn’t need to pay and gave it to the little girl who said “thank you” and scampered off.
Later I reflected why I had ordered the teller to give the little girl an orange juice and offered to pay. I came to the conclusion that what I saw in that little girl at that moment in time was a radiating innocence that resonated with me. I have also felt a profound sadness from knowing that the little White girl’s innocence was transitory, and that it would most likely be ripped away from her by brutish others because of the “diversity” in that area.
The greater point is that, while (((they))) may have pathologized and preyed on our White altruism, our greatest weakness could be turned into our greatest strength.
Properly harnessed, White altruism for our own people, and only our own people, is an awesome power. No wonder (((they))) have corrupted it. I recently got a small taste of what it is to love our own altruistically.
Hate will be necessary. Hate for what has been taken from us and to the constant offenses and harms placed upon our people. But I don’t think Hate will be enough. Hate will only take us so far. We need to regain and purify our altruism, our capacity for Love of our own people and reforge our ethos with Love for our own and Hate for the other who would do us harm.
It seems such a small and insignificant thing, if you weren’t there you might call it trivial, but it wasn’t to me. It was like finding a sunflower in a brown and black wasteland, a breath of fresh air in a polluted sky, carefree days riding bicycles with your friends from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m in a bygone time.
I Hate (((them))) for what (((they))) have done to us, but I LOVE our people, and our ways, and the innocence of our White children.
Hate is as natural as love.
Hate protects the things we love from that which would destroy it.
To never feel hate is to never know the fullness of love.
To feel hate only for those who protect what’s loved is the center of evil.
Hate & Love.
Like Insouciance & Frigidity.
Two sides of the same coin.
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There is no point in crying like women for what we could not hold like men. Let the past inspire and teach, but think like you are a future conqueror.
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3:20 mark of the South Dakota video – that c1it is getting a he11uva massage there – towards the right end of the female bell curve for hypergamy & BPD, I could easily see a chick experiencing multiple 0rgasms from that sh!t.
It kinda harkens back to a point I was making recently about how we don’t have the physical contact in our lives which we once had.
Especially not kids being raised in daycare.
No physical contact at all.
Boring, sterile, isolated, lonely, outcast upbringings.
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Watched it again, after poasting, and there isn’t a doubt in muh mind that those two ch!cks riding b@reback are indeed way out towards the right end of the female bell curve for hypergamy & BPD.
I think they’re grinning at the camera precisely because they don’t think the Betas are in on the joke.
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Nah, their nether nipples are desensitised from all the equine action. Like their madren counterparts, they’d need to upgrade to an electronic device to feel anything – the mechanical bucking bronco.
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These suppositions about the operation of female anatomy do not match the name “Belle”, and do not match any experience with highly-sexed women.
Why, yes, pressure and rubbing on the clitoris will desensitize it. Just like a man who fucks too much has his penis desensitized! This is also why women who frequently masturbate are unable to achieve orgasm.
(Captain Oblivion’s bullshit is here even bullshittier than usual. But I am not in the mood to make a meme graphic right now; and that’s what it deserves.)
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1957 … Babes by today’s standards. Perhaps even more so with no surgery, no HGH, no GoGrrrl weightlifting.
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What’s with (((WP)))?…everything is getting eaten in mod.
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The St@ck is slow to pop this evening.
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Since I h experience of small-town America or small-town anywhere, I will pick up only one topic.
Videogames!
The underlying problem is the quest for SAFETY. Eight year olds walkiing down the street causes somebody to call the police. Most people reading this will remember walking around at least as early as six year old.
But bicycles are not SAFE enough! (OK, there is a modest amount of real danger, but it can be managed by staying off main roads). Climbing trees???
Way to dangerous, Playing roughhousing games??? As above.
So the only exciting activity is videogames. Now you have sheltered your kid from all dangers – except obesity. You win every battle but lose the war.
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I absolutely hate to watch pre-1960s videos and movies. It’s too painful to know what we have lost.
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I was born in 1956 so I remember the America that Ray described, and I miss it. For the first 5 years of my life we lived in a little house in a small city in New Brunswick, Canada. My father worked as a Mechanical Engineer in a paper mill and my mother was a housewife. Even at that early age I was free to roam around the neighborhood. There was a gravel pit near our house, and a construction company with a yard full of old rusting machinery where we boys used to play. It was paradise! Then we moved to a small city in Connecticut where my father got another engineering job, and this time we lived in an apartment building. But even there we children were free to run around outside. There was a playground where we played, and next door was the high school with a hill in the back where we would go sledding in the winter, and again a gravel pit where we played. On Sundays my sister and I attended Lutheran Sunday school (and I had to wear a starched white shirt, bow tie and flannel suit – very uncomfortable and I hated it!). Then after Sunday school we’d come home and Mom would make lunch, then Pop would take us for long walks at a nearby forest with trails, part of a Nature preserve. Or we’d all go to the seashore for swimming and a picnic in the summer. Then in 1964 we moved to a small town in Connecticut, living in a little 3-bedroom house on a dead-end street. Now I was really happy because we had a yard and a dog, and the neighborhood children rode their bicycles up and down the street and built forts and played at war and played softball. We were all “free range”, and so were the neighborhood dogs (so there were piles of dog shit all over the place and you had to watch where you stepped). In the winter we went sledding and built snow forts. There were lots of woods all around and our father often took us for long walks along the woodland trails, accompanied by our faithful German Shepherd dog. By age 10 or so I was exploring in those woods on my own, from early morning until dark, accompanied by our dog. To this day I love walking in the forest, for which I have a mystical reverence. It was a good childhood. I find it sad and strange – actually kind of eerie – to be in residential areas nowadays and to see and hear no children at play outside. There is something very wrong about that.
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Ultima: But if you stepped on a grey dog bomb, that wasn’t so bad as a soft brownie….say, how come there are no grey ones any more??
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Ugh. I hate Germans. They always vote Democrat. Real Heritage Americans are the Scots-Irish.
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Conversely, recently I have seen a TON of whites stabbing other whites in the back.
I know that has always happened. Wars in Europe didn’t just happen for nothing.
But it really pissed me off b/c I realized how crucial it is that we work together. We protect each other. We favor each other.
Each of these instances, while formerly crimes or sins, are now elevated to TREACHERY. A capital crime…the worst sin in Dante’s Inferno.
Oh, and recently I was an evaluator for proposals for engineering grad students applying for a competitive grant. So sue me if the white males got higher scores than the rest (including the women of color who, more than once wrote, “I want this grant so I can be a role model to other girls just like me.” Solipsism once again.)
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Joe Biden: “The times they long for actually never really existed”
Me: pic.twitter.com/y6JCWR2yur
— Genophilia (@WhiteNewDeal) April 4, 2019
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This is another good song, not very well known, and it was not a chart-topper, but if you listen to the words, it has that ‘wistful’ quality of which we speak.
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I like to watch some of Alfred Hitchcock’s movies (the color movies which show exterior scenes) such as ‘Vertigo’, ‘North By Northwest’, ‘The Birds’ and see the people and cars and clean cities. Especially San Francisco, my home-town, which was at one time a sane and beautiful place. Oh what the kike has wrought and what the kike will pay for in blood.
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Was just watching Vertigo. And then Bullitt, then Dirty Harry.
You can actually chart the degradation from ’68 to ’72 from the latter films without referencing Vertigo at all, which makes San Fran look like a sunny Elysium.
Now there is actual SHIT in the streets. Not pigeon shit, not dog shit, not cat shit, but HUMAN shit.
Part and Parcel of living in a city.
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Contrary to Benway’s spiel, a nihilistic counterculture song about one’s first bang being a shitskin is NOT what we’re talking ’bout, ’round chere.
(((shakin’ mah haid)))
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Cue the Rolling Stones.
Most of those songs were meant to piss people off. Just like Punk Rock and the swastika.
Interesting, because MAGA hats are the new Punk Rock, as PJW pointed out some years ago.
What a flip of the script.
Though if the present was then, and their present is now, and MAGA is Punk circa ’77…
What does this mean in thirty years?
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A Jewish attorney moved into Bristol, South Dakota in 1938, and the poor fellow could not make a living. Another one moved in later that year, and they both got rich.
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Test comment.
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test comment
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What the fucking fuck is wrong with JewPress today? Comments will not post. Maybe try a Gentile censor.
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I think that ‘nigger’ is the censored word for today.
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Yes, terribly sad. God Almighty says that there is a time to love and a time to hate. I hate the jew with the heat of thousand burning suns. I wish that I could go back in time and impart that hate to our forebears so that they would have sent the jew immigrants packing back to Russia and have deported the nigger back its home continent. Continued below.
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The South had 8m people and 1/2 were freed slaves. It would have been impossible to send them back and too expensive in a country that depleted their treasury for the war.Besides, they still needed the negro workers in the South and most probable just went back and worked for ole Massa.
The other (((problem))) came in the late 1800’s and the rest in a couple of migrations because they were ‘oppressed’ in the Soviet Union so Jew Congressmen passed laws and Presidents let them in.
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I believe that they would throw down their rifles in disgust and walk home.
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JFC!!! I can not get a fucking comment to post or at least the comment I wrote. Can I please have the name or names of the KikePress censors so that I can Holocaust their asses?
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The South had 8m people and 1/2 were freed slaves. It would have been impossible to send them back and too expensive in a country that depleted their treasury for the war.Besides, they still needed the negro workers in the South and most probable just went back and worked for ole Massa.
The other (((problem))) came in the late 1800’s and the rest in a couple of migrations because they were ‘oppressed’ in the Soviet Union so Jew Congressmen passed laws and Presidents let them in.
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This is part of the reason why people liked the show Mad Men. It wasn’t just the good writing or Don Draper’s chad attitude, it was the look back into a happier, simpler, better Heritage America. People got to experience something wonderful they never knew personally but maybe only read about; a prettier and more resounding paradise than any sci-fi movie or VR could ever trick them into believing.
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The evolution of this blog. From good to great to, what is the word? Sacred? A blog promoting fornication probably can never truly be sacred, but I’ll tell you what: it is a sanctuary for the sane.
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The Ugly begins when some White says, “Racism is the only thing that will save our people,” and enough of the White people say, “Yes, and we don’t care if they don’t like us for it.”
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What’s this “ugly” you speak of?
Maybe the word sanity would fit better…..
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I live in a small town in a high plains state that isn’t very diverse.
The children still play outside, walk, bicycle, or skateboard to school (if they live in town), the main street rotates businesses, and it has changed, but still keeps most of what it had years ago. I moved from the big city.
There is a movie theatre with two screens, and a drive in. Next town over there is a much bigger theatre which is a little threadbare for the age, but still shows movies on its one screen.
So it still exists. There isn’t a lot of big city jobs, but I can do my tech from my modest home a few blocks away from the main street. There are all the modern things available. But several businesses sell eggs from their chickens at home (I decided to leave it to them). I can even get raw milk and other dairy.
But some want to live in the big cities where the high income is, but spend it on taxes and raised prices, expenses, stress, hassle. Then complain about it while explaining how much money they make.
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Sounds like Salina, Kansas.
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Outro is good, this is better…
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“The first black family moved into town. Hey, where’s my bike?”
True as sunshine.
Near pissed myself laughing.
Sad and true….
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You’ll find the particular 7 minute 35 second video I was referencing if you do a web search for Never Forget Britton South Dakota 1938 and look at “videos.”
The music that accompanies the video is extremely moving. I am not ashamed to admit that I became a bit misty-eyed on the first viewing, especially because the trumpet player twenty seconds into the video looked like my father.
I know that air time is expensive, but it would really be something amazing if Tucker did a five minute video segment like this once or twice a week, tugging the heartstrings with archival footage of Heritage American Men and their families going about their daily tasks in a world gloriously free from multiculturalism, invasive technology, and fear. He would not have to say a word… in fact, without commentary, no one could accuse him of any “ism” and the images and music would freely speak volumes.
And it sure would shut up the liars (like Joe Biden) who say things like “The times they long for actually never really existed.”
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