by Billy Roper
When I read Harold Covington’s response this morning to well-intentioned but insufficiently hardened (or overly softened) White men being afraid to associate with him, I couldn’t help but feel his pain. The millennials have invented a term for it, “being cucked”, but when their own “purity spirals” are stuck on anonymous screen names and IRL paranoia, it’s more than frustrating, it’s downright disappointing. They’re afraid to get out from behind their keyboards, afraid of public meetings, afraid of the names they were born with, afraid to stand and hold a sign, or release a red balloon, or have anybody know what they purport to believe. They behave like losers, to put not too fine a point on it, like conquered, defeated victims. Their cowardice keeps from behaving like White men. Then they wonder why White women aren’t attracted to them, and the cause. Gee, I don’t know. What attracts a healthy woman? An Alpha male, instinctively. A winner. A conqueror. Look, I want to help you find your balls again, guys. As the radical flank effect, I have the responsibility of radicalizing the best of you, and scaring away the rest. If you stick around long enough, you’ll feel it, too. If you don’t burn out or run and hide to find a safer hobby to LARP, that is. If you go, may your chains rest lightly upon you, and all that.
by Harold Covington
I recently had a kind of message from some good folks I know on the periphery of our Movement, the upshot of it being that they listen to Radio Free Northwest, they read their NF Bulletin, they wish me all the best and all that, but they can no longer be associated with me because I am a “terrorist” and if they are ever in any way connected with me by the FBI or some other secret police organ then they will “get in trouble.”
Well, the short answer to that is yes, you well may get in trouble if you’re in any way associated with me in the official mind. I’m not going to deny that, and all I can really tell you is that unless and until enough of us are willing to get into trouble with the government of the United States, life on this continent is going to become an unbearable hell on earth that no one of us can really imagine.
That’s the price of change. That is the price of making things better for our children and those yet to come. Somebody has to get in trouble. Are you willing to let your children, your grandchildren, and all of our children and grandchildren suffer contempt, oppression, servitude, desolation and murder because you’re a chickenshit coward who is afraid you’ll get in trouble?
If so, then you’ve got a lot of company. Most White men and women are too timid and frightened to do anything about all this. If the small number of us who are not can pull it off, then perhaps some day in the future all of you yellow dogs out there will live long enough for your own children spit on you.
Now let’s deal with that terrorism crap. In point of fact, no, I am not a “terrorist.” I would not be ashamed of it if I were. Terrorism is the weapon of the weak against the strong. It usually involves a very high risk of self-destruction and therefore regardless of what moron Jews and howling Republican idiots in the media say, it requires an immense amount of courage. I admit it: I do not have the personal courage of Bob Mathews or Joseph Paul Franklin or Joe Stack.
What I am is a writer and, for the past nine years, a speaker with a very small audience. In real life our weekly number of hits on our podcast would fill a medium-sized auditorium, although probably one out of four attendees would be Jews or media or undercover cops or Goat Dancers or strange little men from That Nineties Show. If you don’t know what all the fuss is about, read my Northwest independence novels. You can order them online.
To make this long story as short as possible, it is true that in one sense what I do is an act of treason. I speak of the death of the king, and in medieval and Renaissance times that was quite literally treason, as in head-lopping and boiling-in-oil and being burned at the stake treason. For many centuries in Europe not only was it treason to speak of the death of the king at all, but if you were into astrology, as most people were back then, it was treason to cast the king’s horoscope, because that might reveal the time and manner of his death. It was treason and punishable by death to speculate on who might succeed the king in the event of his death, which you weren’t supposed to be talking or thinking about to begin with.
Henry the Eighth was the worst about this kind of thing; if you even referred to any of his miscellaneous wives or children by the wrong title, depending on who was supposed to be legitimate that week and which religious faction was on top of the palace heap, you find yourself boiled in oil. Henry VIII was the only king of England who ever actually did that, by the way.
Anyway, what I’m getting at with my usual obscure historical references is that officially, in those days, the king was immortal, at least insofar as anything said or even hinted at in public went. Everyone had to pretend that the present was the permanent order of things and the monarch would never die. They all knew it was crap and they knew the king was mortal like everybody else, you just didn’t dare to say it.
Our own lords and masters are like that. Officially, Amurrica is forever. Some years ago a tame university egghead called Francis Fukuyama even wrote an entire essay to that effect, entitled The End of History. Therein he claims that liberal democracy is the ultimate form of government and that from now on mankind’s future is one long, endless strip mall where happy contented wage slaves will slurp Starbucks and gobble down Happy Meals while we are ruled from behind the scenes by soulless businessmen and executives in expensive suits, as well as a few rabbis in blue knitted skullcaps to whisper in the ears of the businessmen and executives.
I say that’s crap. I speak openly of the death of the king, of the end of Amurrica, and what’s worse I say out loud how I’m pretty much convinced it will end, by a breakup into several smaller black and brown and hippie-dippy ethnostates. I believe it is absolutely imperative for the future of all humanity, not just our own people, that when that happens, the White man must acquire an ethnostate of his own out of the wreckage, for use as an all-White homeland where our race can rest and recuperate and restore our numbers while the rest of the world goes to hell in a mass slaughter, as will inevitably occur in any society ruled by non-Whites. I believe that the establishment of this White homeland will be attained through some kind of armed insurrection or confrontation between White Americans and the United States and its armed men.
That is a very dangerous opinion to hold. It is an even more dangerous opinion to speak out loud. Do you know why? Because I am right, and pretty much everybody knows it, even though some may not admit to the fact out of fear or self-interest.
This is not a matter of my inciting anything. I am simply making a factual observation that there are hundreds of millions of privately held firearms in this country, and that conditions are deteriorating to the point where eventually someone is going to load one of those firearms and shoot it at a politician, or a judge, or a congressman, or a multinational executive, or an FBI agent, or a cop, or a news anchor, or any one of the thousand and one people who are both actually and morally responsible for the America we were born into turning into an unspeakable horror show with subtitles in Spanish.
The feds cannot allow me to continue to say these things out loud. Someday someone might actually do something, and it won’t just be Joe Stack crashing his airplane into a mysteriously empty government building. It’s like a dog who starts killing chickens, or a bear or alligator who kills a person. Once it happens the animal has to be destroyed, because now he knows it can be done and how easy it is, and the regime can’t take the chance that White people might someday figure out that badges and black robes and briefcases and $2000 suits might be neat accessories, but they don’t make anybody bulletproof. Once that knowledge spreads, Amurrica is done for.
The FBI and other secret police agencies are charged with the task, not of enforcing laws, but of keeping the lid on, which is not the same thing. I’m not breaking any laws, but that’s never mattered much where we’re concerned and ever since the Edgar Steele case, it doesn’t matter at all. So yes, there is indeed a chance that if you are associated with me in any way, you will “get in trouble.”