WesternMan Harvest 3: The Absolute State of it

QUESTION OF THE WEEK

Do falsehoods exist in Nature, or only in the mind of man?

PROPAGANDISMS OF THE DAY

CLIMB TO THE PEAK OF PERFECTION

APHORISMS OF ALL TIME

A vocabulary of ten words is enough for a Marxist to explain history.

If you cannot define a thing, you are not the person to be redefining it.

Law is the juridical form of custom or the trampling of liberty.

Nobody ever sleepwalked to victory.

THINGS YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE MISSED

Global Demographics Africa Rising 2100
UN Population Projections 2100: ‘The Most Important Graph in the World’
Bribe a servant of the state and you will soon hear the deathwatch beetles chewing away at the rooftrees of society.
Morris West
Morris West

By the time they have their third child (which they will), tens of thousands of native British women will have fallen for the trap and become infertile and tens of thousands of fewer British children will be born. Tens of thousands of bloodlines will be ended with this one clever trick. The world is Darwinian and replete with psychopaths, never forget.

When High IQ populations with concern for the future environment (Europeans) are emotionally tricked and guilted into not reproducing themselves, the future will be precisely as the EnviroWorriers fear: A world overrun with dumb and reckless people who don’t care about the environment and aren’t smart enough to manage it.

The best thing European people could do for the environment is pump out as many High IQ Long-Time-Horizon babies as they possibly can. “Hey Europeans – don’t have kids” is and always has been a ruthless, genocidal, power-grabbing scam.

Environmental Conservatives should have more babies, not fewer.

It may be hoped that in time anybody will be able to persuade anybody of anything if he can catch the patient young and is provided by the State with money and equipment. … Although this science will be diligently studied, it will be rigidly confined to the governing class. The populace will not be allowed to know how its convictions were generated.
Bertrand Russell
Bertrand Russell, writing in 1952

Censorship and Surveillance

https://twitter.com/Czakal/status/1156147220116398080
The control of information is something the elite always does, particularly in a despotic form of government. Information, knowledge, is power. If you can control information, you can control people.
Tom Clancy

ReclaimTheNet reports: The bill allows UK’s secret services to eavesdrop on computers and mobile devices, and forces company to help in this, including by circumventing encryption protections.

Furthermore, spy agencies can collect and retain vast amounts of personal data. In addition to the potential for abuse of these massive data-sets, there’s the problem of the lax storage and safekeeping standards.

The UK’s domestic spy agency, MI5, recently admitted that it had “lost control of its data storage operations.”

Those who might be tempted to give way to despair should realize … that confusion, error and darkness can win the day only apparently and in a purely ephemeral way … and that nothing can ultimately prevail against the power of truth.
Rene Guenon
René Guénon

MASS MIGRATION

There are too many examples to cite; the bad news comes out thick and fast. Mainstream Mass Media remains in blackout mode.

British Boris’ new Government scraps lower mass migration targets (which existed in name only). The British now have promises of more people with more skills from all across the globe. They are giving a new name (“Global Britain”) to the tired old plan that has not ceased for a single minute for decades “population replacement and the selling of the native homeland into multi-culti concrete strip mall diversitopia with no remaining natives”.

Any anti-mass-migration referendum would be won instantaneously and overwhelmingly. This explains the rush to bring in such huge numbers (+birthrates) so as to outnumber the natives and leave them politically disarmed for eternity. There will never be a referendum on mass migration – it will be forced on the people decade after decade despite their disapproval.

The fanatical oligarchs in control of the mafia government want all people politically powerless. This is why they aim to fracture National Unity into a thousand pieces – a thousand competing interest groups and ethnic tribes – a war of all against all, in the homelands of the European ethnic groups. They seek to destroy the national philia. It is the oldest tactic in the book: Divide and Conquer. Diversity and Conquest.

Tolerant & Diverse Western Dumbocracy continues to flaunt its failings day after day.

A society is not stable unless it is on the whole satisfactory to the holders of power and the holders of power are not exposed to the risk of successful revolution.
Bertrand Russell
Bertrand Russell
When the history book of this era is written, this photograph will be on the cover. They will call it ‘The Era of Universal Suffrage’.

THE BIZARRO WESTERN NIGHTMARE

We are going to be childless and detached from our Nations and set adrift, eating sugar and bugs to survive, surrounded by clones and human-pig hybrids and glorified pedophiles, trapped in techno-tyranny, with books burned and citizens who wouldn’t know how to read them anyway, paying for millions upon millions of foreign guests to be imported to outnumber us, as our bodies are pumped with suicide hormones and brains filled with a chorus of confusion, told repeatedly we are not who we think we are, children battered in government education facilities until they can no longer think, sat fat in front of Hollywood HypnoScreens learning to accept fake realities, with IQs dropping generation after generation as smart women have fewer and fewer babies, with women killing the babies they conceive so they can work for their bosses in corporate profit paperhouses, government humancage facilities filling with more WrongSpeakers day after day, wages stagnating and dropping and house prices rising and rising, puppets promising treasures from the bankrupt public purse, central banks enthroned above and beyond public oversight milking the masses, history books rewritten to suit the organised crime cartels controlling governments, slick-sold science that’s unscientific and broken, health and wellness replaced with poisonous symptom-relieving drug cocktails, depression and despair and self-harm at levels never before seen, teens taught to hate their parents and love infertility, meaningless promiscuity preached as the paragon of virtue and meaning, alcohol and party drugs poured cheaply into howling mouths…

…and this is just what’s happening RIGHT NOW.

What will tomorrow bring, as we continue sleepwalking toward the abyss?

May Inana make a hot-limbed wife lie with you! May she bestow upon you broad-shouldered sons! May she seek out for you a happy place!

SOLUTIONS: Western Reconstruction

FROM THE RED PILL FACT BOOK

African Slavery

388,000 African slaves were shipped to North America between 1525 and 1866. [1]

9.2 million African slaves exist in Africa today. [2]

Source 1: PBS, ‘How Many Slaves Landed in the U.S?’, 2013,
https://www.pbs.org/wnet/african-americans-many-rivers-to-cross/history/how-many-slaves-landed-in-the-us/

Source 2: Global Slavery Index, Regional Analysis, 2018,
https://www.globalslaveryindex.org/2018/findings/regional-analysis/africa/

Native German Population Replacement

In 2017, approximately 19.3 million people in Germany had a migrant background, 23.6% of the total population, almost 1 in 4 citizens. This is compared with the previous year, when 1 in 5 citizens were of a migrant background.

“A person has a migrant background if he/she or at least one parent did not get German citizenship by birth.”

Source: Destatis, ‘Year-on-year increase of 4.4% in the population with a migrant background in 2017’,
https://www.destatis.de/EN/Press/2018/08/PE18_282_12511.html

Disorder in the society is the result of disorder in the family.

— St. Elizabeth Ann Seton

Jules Breton

1827-1906

POEM OF THE WEEK

THE HALL OF JUSTICE

George Crabbe (1754-1832)

Part I 

VAGRANT. 

Take, take away thy barbarous hand, 
And let me to thy Master speak; 
Remit awhile the harsh command, 
And hear me, or my heart will break. 

MAGISTRATE. 

Fond wretch! and what canst thou relate, 
But deeds of sorrow, shame, and sin? 
Thy crime is proved, thou know’st thy fate; 
But come, thy tale!–begin, begin! – 

VAGRANT. 

My crime!–This sick’ning child to feed. 
I seized the food, your witness saw; 
I knew your laws forbade the deed, 
But yielded to a stronger law. 

Know’st thou, to Nature’s great command 
All human laws are frail and weak? 
Nay! frown not–stay his eager hand, 
And hear me, or my heart will break. 

In this, th’ adopted babe I hold 
With anxious fondness to my breast, 
My heart’s sole comfort I behold, 
More dear than life, when life was blest; 
I saw her pining, fainting, cold, 
I begg’d–but vain was my request. 

I saw the tempting food, and seized – 
My infant-sufferer found relief; 
And in the pilfer’d treasure pleased, 
Smiled on my guilt, and hush’d my grief. 

But I have griefs of other kind, 
Troubles and sorrows more severe; 
Give me to ease my tortured mind, 
Lend to my woes a patient ear; 
And let me–if I may not find 
A friend to help–find one to hear. 

Yet nameless let me plead–my name 
Would only wake the cry of scorn; 
A child of sin, conceived in shame, 
Brought forth in woe, to misery born. 

My mother dead, my father lost, 
I wander’d with a vagrant crew; 
A common care, a common cost; 
Their sorrows and their sins I knew; 
With them, by want on error forced, 
Like them, I base and guilty grew. 

Few are my years, not so my crimes; 
The age which these sad looks declare, 
Is Sorrow’s work, it is not Time’s, 
And I am old in shame and care. 

Taught to believe the world a place 
Where every stranger was a foe, 
Train’d in the arts that mark our race, 
To what new people could I go? 
Could I a better life embrace, 
Or live as virtue dictates? No! – 

So through the land I wandering went, 
And little found of grief or joy; 
But lost my bosom’s sweet content 
When first I loved the Gipsy-Boy. 

A sturdy youth he was and tall, 
His looks would all his soul declare; 
His piercing eyes were deep and small, 
And strongly curl’d his raven-hair. 

Yes, AARON had each manly charm, 
All in the May of youthful pride, 
He scarcely fear’d his father’s arm, 
And every other arm defied. – 

Oft, when they grew in anger warm, 
(Whom will not love and power divide?) 
I rose, their wrathful souls to calm, 
Not yet in sinful combat tried. 

His father was our party’s chief, 
And dark and dreadful was his look; 
His presence fill’d my heart with grief, 
Although to me he kindly spoke. 

With Aaron I delighted went, 
His favour was my bliss and pride; 
In growing hope our days we spent, 
Love’s growing charms in either spied; 
It saw them all which Nature lent, 
It lent them all which she denied. 

Could I the father’s kindness prize, 
Or grateful looks on him bestow, 
Whom I beheld in wrath arise, 
When Aaron sunk beneath his blow? 

He drove him down with wicked hand, 
It was a dreadful sight to see; 
Then vex’d him, till he left the land, 
And told his cruel love to me; 
The clan were all at his command, 
Whatever his command might be. 

The night was dark, the lanes were deep, 
And one by one they took their way; 
He bade me lay me down and sleep, 
I only wept and wish’d for day. 

Accursed be the love he bore, 
Accursed was the force he used, 
So let him of his God implore 
For mercy, and be so refused! 

You frown again,–to show my wrong 
Can I in gentle language speak? 
My woes are deep, my words are strong, – 
And hear me, or my heart will break. 

MAGISTRATE. 

I hear thy words, I feel thy pain; 
Forbear awhile to speak thy woes; 
Receive our aid, and then again 
The story of thy life disclose. 

For, though seduced and led astray, 
Thou’st travell’d far and wander’d long; 
Thy God hath seen thee all the way, 
And all the turns that led thee wrong. 


Part II 


MAGISTRATE. 

Come, now again thy woes impart, 
Tell all thy sorrows, all thy sin; 
We cannot heal the throbbing heart 
Till we discern the wounds within. 

Compunction weeps our guilt away, 
The sinner’s safety is his pain; 
Such pangs for our offences pay, 
And these severer griefs are gain. 

VAGRANT. 

The son came back–he found us wed, 
Then dreadful was the oath he swore; 
His way through Blackburn Forest led, – 
His father we beheld no more. 

Of all our daring clan not one 
Would on the doubtful subject dwell; 
For all esteem’d the injured son, 
And fear’d the tale which he could tell. 

But I had mightier cause for fear, 
For slow and mournful round my bed 
I saw a dreadful form appear, – 
It came when I and Aaron wed. 

Yes! we were wed, I know my crime, – 
We slept beneath the elmin tree; 
But I was grieving all the time, 
And Aaron frown’d my tears to see. 

For he not yet had felt the pain 
That rankles in a wounded breast; 
He waked to sin, then slept again, 
Forsook his God, yet took his rest. 

But I was forced to feign delight, 
And joy in mirth and music sought, – 
And mem’ry now recalls the night, 
With such surprise and horror fraught, 
That reason felt a moment’s flight, 
And left a mind to madness wrought. 

When waking, on my heaving breast 
I felt a hand as cold as death: 
A sudden fear my voice suppress’d, 
A chilling terror stopp’d my breath. 

I seem’d–no words can utter how! 
For there my father-husband stood, 
And thus he said: –‘Will God allow, 
The great Avenger just and Good, 
A wife to break her marriage vow? 
A son to shed his father’s blood?’ 

I trembled at the dismal sounds, 
But vainly strove a word to say; 
So, pointing to his bleeding wounds, 
The threat’ning spectre stalk’d away. 

I brought a lovely daughter forth, 
His father’s child, in Aaron’s bed; 
He took her from me in his wrath, 
‘Where is my child?’–‘Thy child is dead.’ 

‘Twas false–we wander’d far and wide, 
Through town and country, field and fen, 
Till Aaron, fighting, fell and died, 
And I became a wife again. 

I then was young: –my husband sold 
My fancied charms for wicked price; 
He gave me oft for sinful gold, 
The slave, but not the friend of vice: – 
Behold me, Heaven! my pains behold, 
And let them for my sins suffice. 

The wretch who lent me thus for gain, 
Despised me when my youth was fled; 
Then came disease, and brought me pain: – 
Come, Death, and bear me to the dead! 
For though I grieve, my grief is vain, 
And fruitless all the tears I shed. 

True, I was not to virtue train’d, 
Yet well I knew my deeds were ill; 
By each offence my heart was pain’d 
I wept, but I offended still; 
My better thoughts my life disdain’d, 
But yet the viler led my will. 

My husband died, and now no more 
My smile was sought, or ask’d my hand, 
A widow’d vagrant, vile and poor, 
Beneath a vagrant’s vile command. 

Ceaseless I roved the country round, 
To win my bread by fraudful arts, 
And long a poor subsistence found, 
By spreading nets for simple hearts. 

Though poor, and abject, and despised, 
Their fortunes to the crowd I told; 
I gave the young the love they prized, 
And promised wealth to bless the old. 
Schemes for the doubtful I devised, 
And charms for the forsaken sold. 

At length for arts like these confined 
In prison with a lawless crew, 
I soon perceived a kindred mind, 
And there my long-lost daughter knew; 

His father’s child, whom Aaron gave 
To wander with a distant clan, 
The miseries of the world to brave, 
And be the slave of vice and man. 

She knew my name–we met in pain; 
Our parting pangs can I express? 
She sail’d a convict o’er the main, 
And left an heir to her distress. 

This is that heir to shame and pain, 
For whom I only could descry 
A world of trouble and disdain: 
Yet, could I bear to see her die, 
Or stretch her feeble hands in vain, 
And, weeping, beg of me supply? 

No! though the fate thy mother knew 
Was shameful! shameful though thy race 
Have wander’d all a lawless crew, 
Outcasts despised in every place; 

Yet as the dark and muddy tide, 
When far from its polluted source, 
Becomes more pure and purified, 
Flows in a clear and happy course; 

In thee, dear infant! so may end 
Our shame, in thee our sorrows cease, 
And thy pure course will then extend, 
In floods of joy, o’er vales of peace. 

Oh! by the GOD who loves to spare, 
Deny me not the boon I crave; 
Let this loved child your mercy share, 
And let me find a peaceful grave: 
Make her yet spotless soul your care, 
And let my sins their portion have; 
Her for a better fate prepare, 
And punish whom ’twere sin to save! 

MAGISTRATE. 

Recall the word, renounce the thought, 
Command thy heart and bend thy knee; 
There is to all a pardon brought, 
A ransom rich, assured and free; 
‘Tis full when found, ’tis found if sought, 
Oh! seek it, till ’tis seal’d to thee. 

VAGRANT. 

But how my pardon shall I know? 

MAGISTRATE. 

By feeling dread that ’tis not sent, 
By tears for sin that freely flow, 
By grief, that all thy tears are spent, 
By thoughts on that great debt we owe, 
With all the mercy God has lent, 
By suffering what thou canst not show, 
Yet showing how thine heart is rent, 
Till thou canst feel thy bosom glow, 
And say, ‘MY SAVIOUR, I REPENT!’

..back with more shortly, meanwhile…

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