Douglas Mercer
June 9 2024
Now that history is coming to a close (or beginning really) it’s time to do some quick philosophy on the half shell and perform some consolidating and stock taking before we take our leave taking. Things will move fast enough in the far future when retrieval is no longer at issue so it’s best while we are still in the calm of the last caesura to sum up and encapsulate—indeed it is this recapitulation which is required in order for the next stage or phase can ensue.
We are gladdened that in the long course of our history the essential itinerary is rather blessedly brief, we will always only focus on essentials, and not the tributaries which shoot off now and again from what is after all a raging river. For you see time’s labyrinth is not so complex to get out of if you have an overhead view and can see the twisting and turning of being all at once, and where the crosswinds and crosscurrents converge.
As always you start with the Greeks. They were the seedbed of our people, the first who combined brilliant fable with a hard eyed passion for truth, the one being the inverse of the other, and each working with the other as necessary corollaries to the other’s axiom, and vice versa. These were the people who first conceived of the fires of the god and the possibility of bringing it to man; and dreamed that water was best. At the same time they began to question whether a thing was actually true; over time these two impulses would join hands in obtaining the final answer by conflating with each other. For as always it is when the fable becomes real that illusion and reality trade places before becoming one and the same thing. When a dream comes true we say that it is realized but in this instance it remains a dream.
It is remarkable that once the Greeks had passed from the scene of history nothing of value in the realm of ideas transpired for two millennia. It was at this time that in Europe the first inkling of the throwing off of the shackles of the Jewish religion began. Soon the arts were flourishing and the first real steps to understanding the universe began. In between the Greek world and the rebirth we call the Renaissance was, aside from a few hits or misses, the doldrums of thought, it was the long dormant time when only the White race was strengthening to be ready for its emergence. This was a period of hibernation where the awaked ones could prepare for awakening and leap on to the word’s stage in full armor.
The god that is willing itself into being audibles—it has multiple routes to the zero point (where it will have willed itself into being). And this open endedness of fate is ironically (we think) due to the fact that the god requires man to achieve its aim, and this (which is the last remaining mystery, one that will be explained to we apt pupils in the cool of the evening) has to do with the inner logistics of fate (moira) that even the god must obey—awesome thought that at this time remains undefined (aporia). This lone enigma stands outside the clearing which otherwise has been totally lit up by the lightening flash of insight. But as it is for the god to will he requires man to will as well: the god can beckon and draw us into his draft, or even take our fingers to help us write; and there will come a point in the economy of the plan that the god will be able to (having reserved the right) to become the most high handed and simply dictate.
But this is a getting ahead of ourselves; if the god wants anything it wants one thing at a time; and it wants the history recounted, the path of the trek can be traced; propers must be observed before the proper names dissolve; and if it proves nothing else the five hundred years (1400-1900) of ascent of the Aryan race proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that that it is this race that is the apple of the god’s eye (a phrase originating in Shakespeare, not the Torah). As the true chosen ones (picked race) the Europeans began an upward arc (based on Greek life and myth) which transformed the world, that is it began to use and develop the world, that is we began to use and develop our brains. It was during this point that the art and knowledge flourished and man began to become man in the proper sense in a long movement to the stars. By 1900 the Europeans ruled the world’s surface armed with the knowledge of Darwin and Galton and the sweet science of eugenics had come into being. Philosophers were on their way to cleaning up the last problems of their discipline, and there is no a priori reason that the promised paradise of the god could not have ensued in relatively rather short order. As for the other races, once secure in our future, and over time, we would have instituted a relatively benevolent rule in which sovereignty would have been assured to us, moderate prosperity and peace to them, and we could have worked out our destiny along our own lines.
But as always there are two ways to go: peaceably or kicking and screaming. There was a fatal weakness in the White race, or three rather. A soft underbelly of softness, a lack of race solidarity and greed. When the last two caused us to let our own blood with savage fury we sent ourselves reeling on unnecessary ropes; and in the wake an unseemly guilt ensued with weakened us nearly unto death; and so the long ascent was aborted not in midstream but near its ending point; and the Jews (the shadow people, the apes of god) were on the scene like a preying vampire to pick over the carcass; it was the Jew who caused and made this wasteland grow, who ushered in the devastation, and picked through the scrap yard in which we find ourselves.
Holderlin tells us that when the danger grows the saving power arises; in this case it was in the form of Adolf Hitler. This great man, our savior and current avatar, tried to take history by the throat and with his vision reverse the recent revision of the plan; but the time is long and the time was not right, alas. In the fatal years of 1941-1942 (a loci of the hinge point) things were genuinely in the balance; but the destining within destining where the final destining would shoot forth in glory was not to be; so the gods in their tribunals retreated and reconnoitered and lived to fight another day when they would reconvene. Man is not only the most dangerous animal; but also the most uncooperative.
***
Poets and philosophers (poets and thinkers) are the unacknowledged legislators of the world; the victors do not write history: we do; no current impact or fashion or vogue can judge us but our judgments are final. And what the special ones have stated is that the brain is a machine with an infinite clearing capacity and the world is a fable; it was that precursor of Cosmotheism Edgar Allen Poe who said that God is a poet and spoke of the plots of god (POE: peace on earth/”man you should have seen them kicking Edgar Allan Poe”). The plot as always thickens and once the method is in place one can read the mind of god, or have it speak to and through you. The god has a grand narrative though it has some switchbacks and some hairpin turns, it backtracks and retraces and detours, it has some blind alleys too, but then moves forward at a different and often terrific speed. But the general trend line is always the same and ever discernible, the move toward the zero point of completion, finality, and totalization where all the spaces have been traversed. From time to time it sends out false fronts to protect itself, or baffle the many, or it shoots a red herring for people to go off on wild goose chases, at times for thousands of years; it proceeds by misdirections more than anything, has it nooks and alcoves of time: but whatever erring humanity does or does not do the god regulates and narrows us down to some certain sluices. When the game of the board has been filled up enough and all (or most) of the spaces are occupied and an undercurrent of repetition sets in you know that the time is up; then the god cannot only catch lightening in a bottle twice he can do it any time he wants.
Friedrich Nietzsche cleared out the cobwebs from the attic and bequeathed us a bewildering chaos; he said to every two bit religious hack or charlatan and every pint sized system builder that he sees through them; he sees the games that they play, and the cards that they have behind their back or up their sleeves; and occasionally the knives they have in broad daylight; he sees the lies they tell, the self-deceptions they engage in, he sees the wish fulfillments, and the blind spots, and at times the outright brain damage. He is the suspicious one, he is the one who sees through and lets no one off the hook, no quarter is given, no breaks are proffered or extended; he prowls with no pity though the corridors of thought and finds everything weak and kills it dead, he senses the soft underbelly of every way of thinking, the sore spots, and the rampant retrogressions; he calls people on their inane nonsense however dressed up it is in august language or however much institutional clout or weight is behind it; he makes the lot of it fall like poorly constructed houses of cards; when he was finished with his hurricane spring cleaning everything was in disarray, everything was up in the air, everything was up for grabs, it was a universal fire sale, he had burnt down the house and left not one stone upon stone; he had announced nihilism and chaos and dark night; it was said of him that he lived in a country that no one else lived in and that was true; it was a world of pure becoming and pure flux which he chose to ride until the end; it was a world of multiplicity and myriad mindedness, of a divining madness, of convex and concave funhouse mirrors reflecting into one another; an unstable world of no meaning, just one image after another with no rhyme and certainly no reason; but he said that man’s courage must consist of not despairing or becoming dispirited or becoming demoralized at this; man must pull himself up by the bootstraps of his mind; to effect this self-powered and self-posited ascent he wanted to practice eugenics and breed a better man, and educate a better man for art; he wanted to create a superman on our own say so; he wanted to eradicate the weak and the wooly minded; it was a self postulating and a self-creating; and as sympathetic as one can be to his motive in the end we must consign him to having got lost in the labyrinth and stared at his own image in the mirror once too often; because the truth of the matter is he was wrong; there is a god; it is true that in eternity it will be as if there might as well not have been one; but it’s time worn that one cannot jump to the life to come; one must glide smoothly and respect the rules of the game; the life to come will be only when time is right and time and space are annihilated as quickly as they were born together, when possibility becomes annihilated actuality; when things begin to slip and slide; but man always wants everything now before everything is possible; it’s a process to get to pure process, many happenings have to occur before nothing can finally happen; for Nietzsche the image was of the Superman, the Overman, and the gods must bless him for that; but however noble and august the conception you can’t build something with nothing and no turnip ever bled blood. So while his image of the superman was on target it turned out it could not be created by man alone, or the god alone for that matter. The two need to work in tandem; and no matter how you look at it the one thing you cannot argue with is ineluctable reality; though to be fair to him the way out of the maze is quite enigmatic and odd; so that he did not see it is not really a strike against him. The real question is how Martin Heidegger happened to see it, for it was nothing short of a pulling of a strange looking rabbit out of an oddly formed hat; yet once he had the method in place the rest was nothing but a thing, a true walk in the park.
Martin Heidegger is the most important man to live in history; it’s a fearsome thing to say that when Shakespeare once stalked the earth; but there it is; not the flashy language for him or the high octane and dizzying verse or the heartbreakingly beautiful or the purest sound or the shaking spheres; but nonetheless he dug up the Rhine gold: he gave us the key or Rosetta stone. That it was a shot out of the blue or a hail Mary pass is no knock on it; what else would it be?; the riddles of time are always clever and it’s always the burning forest that comes to Dunsinane on the banks and shoals of time; always the sly one, always the oblique angle and the skew line, nothing straightforward about it; not the joker in the pack as much as four sevens; and Heidegger was a thorough and fanatic detective, a real gumshoe of time, put more than a bit of spit and polish as he wore out his intellectual shoe leather; whatever it takes was his motto and he would track down the last stone on earth and turn it over to see what lay beneath; a solitary sojourner on country pathways and blue highways and byzantine and baroque byways, a traveler on circuitous roundabouts that will set your head spinning in angular anxiety; a day tripper on roads that seem to lead one nowhere until the mist clears and the lightening flash announces itself from the sound of the thunder; a sailer along different sets of coordinates; the finder of singular lost legends and lyrical repose; a one man call and response system and he had the signal tenacity to keep plodding along until he hit one true solution that was there all along; and what all the King’s horses and all the King’s men could never do (so they say) he did in a trice: he put Humpty Dumpty back together again, stitched up the wound of the world, with his thread wound round his spool, wind things up as they wind down, placed the suture on our future and made it whole again, being the foremost seamstress for our band.
***
The god was in a a kind of quandary; its preferred mode of a straight vertical line has become impossible; with the passing from the scene of the National Socialists things (ostensibly) did not bode well; and as the Jewish Century took to evil wing the god decided to switch it up a bit, to scramble the detectors, and go kaleidoscopic and even psychedelic; with language it has its ace in the hole; the concepts and the thoughts were in place and now all it needed was the right medium of words to flesh them out; what language cannot do when it is mobilizes properly is a null set, when it is set in a perpetual notion machine; it has one advantage over numbers with their exactness and precision: it can speak, directly or indirectly; it can say, it can sing, it can energize, it can be melodious, it can cast spells, and love potions, and soar to raptures of eloquence, it can declaim, it can indulge in purple passages and patches, it can speed at white heat, it can slow down to a poky crawl; it can wrap around itself, it can refer to itself, it can cancel itself out, it can double down, and insinuate itself around the majestic sound of an organ, it can hit high notes, it can go low and deep, it can play hide and seek; and if it want to it can just simply stop. All in all it’s a mighty wind to have at one’s back and the god was not loathe to wield it in the cause, however wildly.
The second wave of prophecy occurred from1965 until 2002. It consists of two seemingly disparate and mutually incompatible stands which will prove over time to have been informed of the same occasion (everything is the same). At first it might seem like pop stars make strange bedfellows to cutting edge race thinkers but I am only reporting here; we have and never will stop making sense; elsewhere I have elucidated the seminal nature of song during this period with its emphasis on the live voice, vibration, and the energizing and electrification of the word; of equal though ultimately more lasting importance during the time of this coming to be we saw the rebirth and naming of Cosmostheism under the auspices and names of the prophets William Pierce and Kevin Strom; this (relatively obscure) development was of irreplaceable and destined import. The first regenerated the one true religion and finally put it on a finally firm foundation, and the latter clarified and amplified the message, is doing the seminal safekeeping of the eternal living flame and sending it on its way to our future. Certainly there had been previous intimations of the notion of an evolutionary universe but until Pierce (1965 to 2002) came along to organize the field it had been a rather hodge podge, ad hoc and erratic affair. From Lucretius to Wordsworth a glimpse was got, and Nietzsche of course but he lacked the key component: the racial basis, indeed he eschewed and scorned all racial thinking which is the sin against the real holy ghost. Then of course Shaw with his Superhumanism and his Superman codified the idea, but he too lacked the racial idea and was an intellectual dilettante who took a cotton to Lenin. It was only with Pierce who, in the cool of the evening, and without the narcissistic raving of Nietzsche, and the posing and preening of Shaw, not to mention the helter skelter prose of Poe, or the dreaminess of Wordsworth, but with a manly frankness and scientific and methodical mind and sober and sound judgments took the time to meticulously and painstakingly place the religion on sound and firm basis. What did he say? That we find ourselves in an evolutionary cosmos with a purpose, the creator’s purpose, which purpose we must align with. We are not standers by in the great chain of being but a necessary link it its armor, intimate and ineluctable participants. Indeed it we, and we alone, who are tasked with shepherding the creator’s will into its presence.
Pierce said that ultimately race is surpassed; that even the grand genetic heritage of the great race, the Aryan race, will be surmounted. Does this mean that race is not eternal? Far from it! For race and what is building up in our race at present constitutes the standing reserve, the living pool from which the great future of our great sprit will be forged and from which it will be drawn. That is race is the prerequisite and the grounding of the future; the materiality of race will be overcome (as man will) but the spirit is upstream from race, the spirit being the only thing capable of going higher; for consciousness does not come from nowhere; and the dreams that we will dream will always be Aryan dreams, beautiful dreams of harmony and proportion and of color and speed that no other race could have conjured. The wonder of our celestial choruses are singular to ourselves and will be enjoyed by us alone.
***
It was Pierce’s heir the prophet Kevin Strom who took all the strands and brought it down to its nodal point (Towards The Stars, Sermons And Dreams from Cosmotheism: Religion Of The Future, Cosmotheist Books, Mountain City 2021). What did Strom say? He said what demands careful attention, he said what should not be glossed over. He said what is not a fantasy or a confirmation bias, nor a pie in the sky dream, nor an aporia, and is subject to no semantic skidding; he gave us a place to stand and a place from which we can finally move the world with the proper leverage, it certainly hit me like a thunderclap when I heard it, awoke me from my dogmatic slumbers, as I knew right away it was the sweet idea that came right from the horse’s mouth. Heidegger dances around it in elucidating the word, that the world is nothing but the will to power; and that the god with its shadow boxing with man seeks only more presence and power; but it took Strom to say it: the creator is willing himself into being. Let me repeat that: the creator is willing himself into being. Right now as has been said, right now and long since, and for some time more: the god is willing itself into being. The first thing to note is that means the god is not currently in being; that is god is not, or god is not complete. For it is always totalization that is the goal; the end, the fruition, the finality, one should never be afraid to conclude. Is this a mere playing with words or ad hoc vision? Neither one nor the other. This is the plain truth plainly told as it must be in the end. This is the word from the god’s lips that you are reading right now, and it will be ready for its close up soon enough when the final frame is in place. We now have our esoteric Hitlerism, our new foundation myth in place, the time of our episode is the capstone that puts the finishing touches on the masterpiece, the look behind the arras with a curtain call for the falling of the curtain, always in preparation for the light touching down.
