The American Trough: A Hobbit’s Tale
“So we’re all nothing but a bunch of hogs slopping at the great American trough, and every so often the big black butcher comes among us and drags one of us away squealing, and we just look the other way and accept it as the price of all that lovely swill and jam our snouts back in deep, so we don’t hear the screams?” demanded Annette. “Is that it?”
“Yes,” admitted Ridgeway. “I know how contemptible that sounds, but yes, Annette, that’s how Americans have to live, because the powers that control our existence have decreed it. You live your life, and you try to do the best you can for yourself and your family. Insofar as possible, you avoid all contact with the system, especially the so-called justice system. You stay away from politics and controversy and anything that might get you noticed, you build what you can for those you love, and you hope to God that every time that black or brown butcher comes into the pen, he passes you and your loved ones by and takes someone else. And you don’t hear the screams. You never let yourself hear the screams. You mustn’t, Annette. You must condition yourself, harden yourself, train yourself, deceive yourself if need be, however you have to do it.
But you never let yourself hear the screams off in the darkness, because if you do, that way lies madness and self-destruction, and you may well drag your loved ones with you. I’m sorry, but that’s the way real life is, Annette. I understand how terrible this sounds, and if by telling you this I have lost your respect, then I am deeply saddened. But I am your father, and I have to tell you these things, because no one else will. I am telling you, desperately trying to convince you, because you’re young and idealistic, and in the world of today that is deadly dangerous. Normally we hold up youth and idealism as good things, and so they are, but only in certain channels that the powers have pre-approved. I know you, honey. I know that stubborn streak you’ve had since you were a little girl, like that time when you were five years old and you sat at the dinner table until four o’clock the next morning rather than eat your Brussels sprouts. You are dangerously close to letting your youth and idealism draw you in a direction that society does not approve, and will not allow.”
-excerpted from Harold Covington’s The Brigade
If you’ve made it here you probably possess a sold grasp of the problems (never challenges, always “problems”) facing our Volk today. You came here for answers, instructions, or maybe even permission if you’re new. What will work? Well, your dear author will first tell you what will not work – Hobbitism.
To be a hobbit is to be a free-range kwan. Caged kwans taste so bad even the jews won’t eat them. Free-range kwans get succulent if a little shrill – but the captive bolt guns work faster than their lungs. They find tidy little corners of the field and make them shine. They get the tastiest organic morsels science and agriculture can provide. Free-range kwans even get the farmer to chase away the foxes if they ask nicely. All for a price of course.
What can the humble kwan offer the farmer? He tells himself that what passes for currency will suffice. We know what the answer really is, of course, and so does he. He will admit it after coaxing, after filtering it through euphemism after euphemism. He knows what will become of him and his children. Yet, he still acts like going further out to pasture is the answer.
…………..
Commander Rockwell’s battle cry was “This Time the World!” One of his lesser known banners was that of a National Socialist flag with a globe placed in the center of the swastika. Our most forward-thinking heroes have always placed an emphasis on Universal or Cosmic Order.
We have nowhere left to run. Even if we did, our rapidly shrinking globe (and history itself) would deny us that little corner of apparent sanctuary. Freedom – the ability to fulfill our purpose without alien interference – comes from strength. We are only strong if we can impose our will upon the planet. We are only safe, in the manner desired by the hobbit, as masters of the Earth. Therein lies the hobbit’s conundrum.