Douglas Mercer
September 29 2024
For the Romans the clan was everything. Noble patrician families would have a special hushed room in their luxurious villas in which they kept the masks that had been taken of their ancestors. Walking in this room and contemplating it was to stand in the very presence of the dead who thereby lived. One could think of who one was by seeing who one had been, this was a room of blood and a room of lineage, of ancestral heritage. This was worship of the forebears, a sacred duty for every great Roman. It was a solemn filial duty the abrogation of which would constitute a fiduciary breach. To ensure that the line was remembered and the line was to continue was the point of life itself. On holy Festival days one would take a mask down from the wall, don it, and show up in the sacred space seeing through the eyes of the past, and seeing others doing likewise. For people of today this seems to be an exotic oddity, they who are so divorced from the past, they who think that being thought well of by their descendants is infinitely more important than to think they are approved of by their ancestors. But here is the thing about the dead—they are not dead but live in the umbral light of the shade; and, atomized as people are, living separately with no communal life, they must be warned that one had better have an ill report from the present than the thundering condemnation of the past. The entire future depends on it.
“After a patient died in Essen’s Elizabeth Hospital, (September 24 2024) relatives of the deceased individual beat hospital employees, resulting in injuries to five of them over the weekend. The incident is being classified as a case of clan crime, with the investigation focusing on grievous bodily harm and property damage. After the family member passed away, a large crowd gathered at the hospital and began threatening hospital staff with the power of the family.”
They say that some 34 years after Julius Caesar was hacked to death in the Capitol one of his clan murdered a descendant of one of the assassins’ family—by viscous knifing—that was the Roman way, to remember, to nurse a grudge, and to neither forgive nor forget, and to act in the coldest of blood. In our world there are still people who have this kind of family loyalty, but it is a far cry from the Romans. For the Roman past was something to celebrate and revere and venerate; the past was something which they recalled as they sent up the smoke to the gods from their best altars; but the past of the various brown dregs who squat in Europe have no such august memories to linger over. They are a vile and purposelessly violent people who can brag about eating a goat once, or slipping off into stupor after hitting the hash pipe, or growing their filthy beards to ridiculous lengths and once in a while offing a daughter who was raped by her uncle. The very fact that they reside in Germany tells you the whole story—had they anything to crow about their countries would be fine enough for them, but their ancestors turned them into downscale toilets so they hightailed it to the land of milk and honey created by the White man; and thereupon wailed about how evil their benefactors are. It’s a story we hear all the time, though couched in the anodyne and inverted language of the Jew.
“A nurse who delivered the news of the death was immediately attacked with punches and kicks, according to the police report. According to police, a 41-year-old suspect with Turkish and Lebanese roots was arrested after the incident, but he has already been released. This is unprecedented aggression and violence said a hospital official.”
You know that the hospitals in the squalid homelands of these dreg-like criminals consist of a guy with a butcher’s knife with a gleam in his eye who is ready to hack at random. Sanitation consists of not urinating on the operating table but washing your hands after you do is not heard of; if you would send yourself or loved one to a place called Al Janoube Hospital or Ozel Algomed Hastanesti you would need to have your head examined, that is you might be certifiably insane; the only thing that happens there are macabre rituals where the blood of barnyard animals and humans mingle freely, and the guy in the white coat has an ominous splatter of red on it. But these interlopers have no sense of respect or decency, hell no; they think that Germany belongs to them and that they should be treated like Kings and pooh bahs; for a White person when a loved one dies it is a matter for repose and for mourning and calm reflection; if a hospital attendant regrets to inform them of the passing they bow their heads; but these feral animals take it as their cue to attack; how dare the White man not save the sable man! It is the White man’s duty to save the dark hued!; and if they fall short, then there will be hell to pay; it will be a jihad right there next to the Admitting Room, for the malevolent Muslim the idea of decorum or dignity never occurs to him. Why, they are owed it all, the own it all by their lights, the very best of White medicine and the life saving powers created by the White race; and should the inevitable occur, should the dusky savage who the doctors are trying to save expires due to the dictated laws of biology, why the entitled migrant will ensure that all hell breaks loose—right there in the surgery.
“A migrant clan family beat hospital staff, and there were riots in German city of Essen. The managing director of the hospital described the vicious assault as a a turning point. Peter Berlin indicated that an entire team of hospital staff fought to save the injured man’s life in an interview with German newspaper Bild. Despite all efforts and resuscitation attempts, the patient unfortunately died, he stated. The police report that the family members involved in the incident are well known for various crimes.”
A turning point? He has to be joking, right? The turning point happened decades ago when the vile brown man showed he was not capable of even the rudiments of civilization. The turning point should have been long since, when the raping and the murders went on like a baleful barrage without cease or let; the turning point should have been many years back when the mooching and the leeching was obvious to even the dull witted; no, any German who is just now declaring a turning point is out of his mind; this is not the turning point. This is the point where War should be declared though that time too came long before as well. But for the Germans even this so called “turning point” won’t even be that; it will just be another chance to fret and worry and then stick their heads in the sand, rather than deporting them in the millions and ensuring that the door hits them on the way out. No, the Germans will mildly dabble with anti-immigrant parties who have no idea of the draconian measure that are required; even that tepid and ultimately ineffectual action will get fierce blow back from the German humanitarians and the Jewish world. They might make an inroad or two but it will be woefully short of effects. At this point nothing less than a total and dedicated declaration of battle will do. For the future belongs to those who stick together, to the people, to the community and the clan. And the future of Germany will be a testament to the this truism, the power of the racial group committed to preserving itself at all costs and all hazards always rules in the end; and the clan and this biological community will also rule in Germany, it’s just that the clans will be of darkened visage, they will be jumped up goat farmers, the will have filthy beards, eat disgusting foods, and will pray to a tawdry and non-existent God. And if one’s luck should run out in this Germany of the bastard races and one finds oneself on the way to the hospital, well, one might as well be heading to the blood-spattered confines of the abattoir replete with the incessant buzzing and howling and screeching insect like sounds of the muezzin. And when that unfortunate perishes on the operating tablet at the incompetent hands of Dr. Al-Jadri you can bet no German will have the guts to attack him.
