The 14 Words

Saturday, 28 June 2014

In Defiance of Augury

The utopian liberal (a redundancy, because all liberals are utopians) builds his castle with the bricks and mortar of unreality. He lives in mortal fear of losing even one brick from his castle of unreality, so he employs masons to keep the castle strong and guards to protect the masons. And the keystone of the liberals’ castle of unreality is the sacred negro. If that brick is removed, the whole castle will come tumbling down…
A liberal kills all the divine longings in his heart so he can propound the abstract principles of his utopian brain. And with the circular logic of the madman, he always comes back to his own mind as the only reality. He will always find the imperfections of the King he hates and the culture he hates, because there is no perfect King and no perfect culture. But why does the liberal focus on the mote in Louis the XVI’s eye and ignore the log in the Jacobins’ collective eye? Why were the white South Africans condemned for compassionate apartheid and the modern negro rulers not condemned for the bloody massacre of whites and blacks? Why does Tony Blair tell us we must have a racially diverse Britain when racially diverse Britain is a diametrically opposed to everything good and decent that used to exist in non-diverse, racially segregated Britain? The answer to all those questions is that the utopian liberal is criminally insane. Devoid of all humanity he uses his brain to support the inhumanity of liberalism, which holds the negro aloft as the holy God of Liberaldom. Is such a faith madness? Indeed it is. The negro worshipping liberal and the Jacobin are spiritually united. –CWNY
I don’t question the statistics of the death of the West crowd, but I do question their interpretation of the statistics. According to the statisticians we have only – because we are outnumbered 1,000,000 to 1 – enough time left to take one last bite of our cheeseburger and one last sip from our beer before we are swept away in a tidal wave of color. My first reaction to such statistical prospects of doom is – what difference does it make whether the white man is outnumbered 100,000 to 1, as he was when he conquered the world, or whether he is outnumbered 1,000,000 to 1 now, when he is at the bottom of the world’s totem pole? Surely you don’t think that the extra numbers arrayed against him at present have brought about his demise? No, of course you don’t. So we must look elsewhere, not to sheer numbers, when we look for a reason for the death of the white man. A Martian recently arrived from Mars, given a week’s access to a public library, could discover the reason for the demise of the white man: he once believed that Christ was the Son of God, and now he no longer believes that Christ is the Son of God.

My second reaction is the same as Hamlet’s reaction to Horatio’s well-intended cautionary advice:


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