Friday, November 11, 2016

HAC On The Election

I’m speaking to you on the morning after the victory of Donald Trump in the presidential election, a victory I freely admit I did not expect him to win. I have never been so glad to have been proven wrong in my life. My once-famous gift of prophecy has failed and my Northwest novels are now inaccurate in that respect, and I’m fine with that, because I had no wish to see the country ruled by a sick and angry monster just to be proven right.

I still have many reservations about Donald Trump, and over the coming months I will speak of these reservations and criticism, but not today. Today is Donald Trump’s day. He has made history and he deserves to bask in the glory of his magnificent achievement.

I have spent most of my life reading and studying history, and on a few occasions such as the Greensboro incident, the John Hinckley affair, Operation Skokie and the 1980 Attorney General’s race in North Carolina, I’ve played a minor part in a historical footnote or two myself.

But the 2016 election and the rise of Donald Trump has been a major historical event, one I have thrilled to live through and watch unfold. I won’t be so arrogant as to claim that I played any serious part in it, but it has been a joy to watch and to fill even the most minor of participatory roles, to feel swept along in history’s surging tide. I’m sure most of you feel the same. 

Whatever any of us may have done as individuals to help bring this about was just a pin-prick, but thousands of pin-pricks put together can bring down the Beast, and in this case, so we did. We brought down the Hildebeest, an especially nasty specimen of the breed. 

As a young man, Lenin was once told that by trying to overthrow the régime of the Russian Czar, he was beating his head against a brick wall. “Yes,” he replied, “But it’s a rotten wall. A few good kicks will send it tumbling down.” We didn’t bring down the entire rotten and senile system of government yesterday. That will inevitably happen, just not for a few years yet. But we sure as hell administered a powerful kick, and we made the wall shake. 

For the first time in two generations, since the 1968 candidacy of George Wallace, White people were offered the option to vote their racial interests. Up until now, almost none of us have ever had such a chance or have ever seen it happen; in 1968 I was too young to vote.

Wallace lost. Rhodesia died. South Africa died. A mulatto nigger was sent to the Oval Office. We are hopelessly embroiled in the Middle East in order to save Israel’s skin and a whole new generation of veterans has come home mangled and insane. The economy is a basket case. Bugger boys can now legally marry their catamites. Men in female clothing can now enter women’s bathrooms. Europe has been invaded by millions of dark-skinned rapists and savages. American culture and American universities are now toxic for people of our skin color, especially boys, and we have lost an entire generation to the internet and the smartphone, a generation which will probably be the last. 

But yesterday we won, by which I mean White people as a race won, and that hasn’t happened within living memory. For the first time since the end of Reconstruction in this country, the good guys finally won one. Even my grandfather never saw that in his time. Now I have, and I will always thank God for that privilege.

What we have gained is a breathing space, time to make one last effort to finally, at long last, get our act together. Make no mistake: all we won was a battle, although a big one. The war is still ongoing, and will be until the White race either establishes multiple Homelands and ethnostates for our sole habitation and use, or until we are finally exterminated from the face of the earth because even in the face of extinction, we will not fight. That is still a very real likelihood. The powerful forces that want us all dead are still out there, and already they are circling like sharks, plotting and preparing for their return to power. The enemy is confused, shaken, and mad with fury today. Tomorrow their heads will be back in the game and the sharks will strike.

But by God, yesterday we won! November the 8th, 2016 was nothing less than a good old-fashioned peasant’s revolt, when the worms of the earth rose up to devour the lions. It was a modern version of the storming of the Bastille, and its consequences will be just as far-reaching. 

Even if White people do ultimately perish from the earth in the end, if anyone survives who can read whatever is written by whomever it is written, history will record that we did not go gentle into that good night, that at least once before the end the pale-skinned peasants turned on their lords and masters and dealt them a stunning blow. 

We have to follow through on that blow. In the months to come, I will tell you how, and I hope to God you will listen and take heed. But for today, rejoice and take pride that we have struck down one of the most wicked and vile of those who seek our death, and beaten her into the dust.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Well said brother a red letter day indeed !

9:03 PM  
Blogger brian boru said...

It's a real pleasure to revel in the shrieks and howls of frustration and despair among the liberals, kikes and SJWs. I know that this is only a pause in the struggle but it is great to rub the bastards faces in it. We've had so little to cheer about in recent times that it feels wonderful to gloat just this once.

7:12 AM  

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