Lisbon And The Zionist Nightmare

You make me laugh. You make me cry. You are fighters. You are natural-born rebels. You are my people.

You are, by virtue of your Anglo-Saxon, Celtic, Frankish, Teutonic, Alpine, Old Mediterranean and Scandinavian ancestry, one whole bunch of contentious, argumentative, reactionary, swing-a-fist after one too many beers, sons of proverbial bitches.

You are the scum of the earth. You are an utter disgrace.

You are largely ignorant, dumbed-down, manipulated, deceived, naive, easily duped by The International Tribe and their grotesque quasi-religious fables and their International Money System.

But you are heroes. And I love you.

Upon the burden sufficient to the strength of your shoulders, all things depend.

You are European Americans, ancestral English, Saxons, the spawn of the great races of the Irish Gaels, the Gauls, the Picts, the Scots. You are the one force in this world that stands between universal Tyranny and absolute Freedom.

In the course of the last year since I was bankrupted, disenfranchised by the Jewish Lobby and forced offline, I became physically weak and financially impoverished. I’ve been there before; but this time, I almost rolled up the white flag of surrender. I was beat. I became seriously ill; for indeed, despite my youthful looks, I am advanced in years. I almost drowned in a valley of tears.

Than a woman entered my life again. Right here in the heart of Zionist-occupied Germany, I fell in love with the most beautiful Celtic woman upon whom I have ever clapped eyes. She fights in her own quiet way. She offers me protection. Her wisdom knows no bounds. Through her, the light of the Creator, who blessed all men and women, with particular regard to ancestral Europeans, has given me fresh hope again.

You are not alone. We shall win. We shall defeat the evil, anti-human Zionist New World Order.

Take a look at yourself in the mirror. You may see a disillusioned youngster riddled with a myriad of doubts and facing an uncertain future without any assurance that you can be all that God meant you to be. You may see the image of a grey or bald-headed man resigned to defeat, working three jobs a day just to provide for his children and raise himself above the status of what the false, Ashkenazi Jews superciliously describe as “white trash”.

How oft must you creep in the shadows of a heavily intimated and legally codified system of oppression, and yet call yourselves the children, the offspring of the greatest and most scientifically creative, ethically refined and well-discoursed race that ever walked the face of this planet?

Don’t be ashamed to say it. You are. The human species consists of many races. You were the first from the very beginning of time; and your role was to defend the innate and inborn freedoms granted to you by an adoring Creator, who loved you so much, he sent himself in the form of a man to die for you as an example of sacrificial, revolutionary action.

The dispensation of universal freedom has been propagated no more widely and efficiently by those who can be described as Anglo-Saxon and Celtic of origin. We, and we alone, are The Chosen from the beginning of Time: not in terms of an oppressive or patronising elite, but to teach our fellow human races (who are, in every sense, almost equal to us) the virtues of living in harmony with the Natural Laws of the True Creator.

Yes, it is hard to teach a Jew (who hates the True Creator) the value of hard work and genuine productivity and to steer him away from his pathological tendency to subvert and undermine all that is wholesome and good about the world in which we seek to understand and accommodate a multitude of paradoxes and anomalies. Jews can, with patience and consideration, be inducted in the fineries of actually producing artefacts of value that possess within themselves no speculative designs. Jews are capable of contributing to the good of humanity by producing useful goods and services from which others may derive some form of benefit. Jews can, given adequate psychiatric and practical training, actually learn to work with their own hands. It’s a tough shout, but nothing is impossible.

By default, most Jews in their teenage years, as was the case with all the Jewish lads who attended my Grammar school in England, are ordinary, caring, rational and pleasant human beings. Then, at some indeterminate point in time, they become infected with the most deadly virus known to mankind. It’s called ‘Zionism’. It’s probably the worst form of cancer any man or woman is liable to contract. It begins by affecting one’s normal, mentally-sound thinking processes. The psychological illness often manifests itself in the form of lies, manipulation, violence, false flag attacks (such as Mossad’s 9-11) and all manner of bizarre machinations designed to persuade young Americans and Europeans to piss away their blood for a cause worth not one single strip of recycled toilet paper.

Why are we sacrificing our lives, our children, our freedoms, our liberties and our national rights of independence to the Luciferian construct of a One World government on behalf of a squalid, dishonest and conniving bunch of historically proven thieves, liars and murderers? Are we really so stupid, forgiving and easily beguiled?

I fear for the future, for we are a very compassionate, trusting and benevolent people. We have been taught to roll over and play dead for the Ashkenazi Jews, none of whom were ever related to the true Children of Israel, the latter of whom are, indeed, the Palestinian farmers and olive-grove keepers who were, from 1948 onwards, slaughtered in untold numbers by the viciously Satanic Jewish murderers and rapists who loathe and despise the True Creator and openly urinate upon the image of his incarnation, Jesus Christ. The ‘Diaspora’, a fantasy almost matching the technicolor religious myth of the nonsensical ‘holocaust dreamscape’ is provable garbage. Let the True Creator exact vengeful justice upon those who say they are Jews, but are not. Let them repay every pint of spilled Goyim blood with their own.

That any American or European child be commanded to risk his or her own life fighting to defend the most viciously evil, genocidal, apartheid and Satanic regime to have forever defiled the noble concept of Man’s striving toward dignity and egalitarianism within a world of free nation states, beggars not only belief, but every dollar, euro and pound sent to the psychopathic bloodthirsty leaches who string-puppet the world from Tel Aviv.

The modern day dark-skinned Jews known as the Sephardim, who are Idumeans (Canaanites), and those of Ashkenazi (southern Asia Minor) descent, are not ‘Jews’ at all. They are not even Judeans. They are pretenders. Magpies. They make for brilliant story-tellers, actors, embezzlers, forgers, hedge-fund operators, imitators, scamsters, bankers, insurance swindlers and liars. We need them. They are our foil. They tell excellent jokes. Their entire culture is a joke based upon an indefensible howler.

Individually, they can be our friends. Collectively — and this is when the ‘hive-mind’ mentality kicks in — they are capable of the most unimaginable forms of wickedness. They have already threatened the West with nuclear destruction unless we play the ‘game’ their way. Tel Aviv’s veiled threat, issued by Martin Creveld, is something we cannot afford to ignore. Why haven’t western nations re-pointed their nuclear weapons in the only direction that counts – the biblically illegal and murderous state of Israel?

However, let us, should we dare, be meek and mild. Let us learn to forgive and love the Ashkenazi Jews, for they have absolutely no idea as to the limits of their destructiveness. Let us instruct them as to just how evil, collectively, they are, and guide them back to the fold of humanity. Let us direct them to the error of their ways and disabuse them of the many myths and fables they have spawned over the centuries in their bid to claim victim status.

And then, an only then, let us make a decisive blow for freedom from the encroaching Global Soviet Union of formerly free nation states, which has always been a Zionist-Jewish obsession. I’m just an old, impoverished and very ordinary man, approaching his fiftieth year, and I can make no promises. But I shall fight for my people unto the very day I go to my grave. If an Israeli or a Brussels bureaucrat stands between me and my natural rights to liberty and freedom as a freeborn Englishman, I shall kill him.

I’m just like you. I love my country. The country that was mine, and which I have lost. But I want it back again; and come hell or high water, I shall do the best I can to help other like-minded compatriots to establish a form of governance that is primarily centred upon the needs of my people, but which yet bestows upon those who are strangers (but loyal and respectful to our way of life) every measure of respect under a new rule of law — the Natural Law of the Ancestral People of Europe and the followers of the True Creator, not that of the parasitic elites, the corporations, the usurious bankers, the Zionists, the military, the pharmaceutical mafia and the ultra-rich.

Does that sound like a loser wishing upon a star? Heck, you may well be right, my friend. If I were to wish upon a star, I would wish for a free republican England, removed from the Soviet European Union, the City of London, NATO and the United Nations; and I long for a truly independent America unbound by the slavery imposed upon her by the Zionist Federal Reserve and the hypnotic political control grip of evil Zionist Jews.

Many of us who intuit that we live in an unchangeable world of pain policed by the fascist cohorts employed by faceless, quasi-Zionist and Freemasonic organisations, oft stare blankly at the stars in the hope that something, anything, right up there in the heavens, will provide us with a glimmer of hope.

So let met tell you a true story about a real-existing star in the firmament.

In 1970, my history teacher at Ansdell County Primary School asked us all to leave the classroom and then troop back as two separate groups in accordance with those we identified as sharing roughly the same colour of hair.

“You,” she told the lads and lasses with blonde and sandy coloured hair, “are descended from Saxons.”

Then she pointed to the rest of us, saying, “And you are descendents of William the Conqueror.”

I was devastated. King Harold was my hero, and remains so to this very day. I used to stare at the Bordeaux Tapestry and will the arrow from Harold’s eye. He had valiantly defeated the Viking onslaught at Stamford Bridge, determinedly marched his men hundreds of miles to the south and, half-starved, outnumbered and with all odds stacked against him, had deployed an ingenious military tactic to defend his island race against the tyrant that would spawn for generations to come a hideously oppressive bureaucracy and a caste system that disfigured the social landscape of a nation steeped in Saxon egalitarianism.

I continue to pluck at that arrow.

When I was twelve years old, I was much given over to sneaking through an opening onto the Royal Lytham St. Annes Golf Course, whereon I would find a hillock, upon which I would lie and gaze at the early evening stars. On one such occasion I found I was not alone. I heard someone sneeze, raised myself to my feet and saw a little girl of my own age lying on her back.

“What are you doing?” I asked her shyly, for she was very pretty.

“I’m looking at the stars,” she said.

I lay down beside her and asked her if she thought we came from the stars.

“Oh, yes,” she replied quite emphatically, pointing at the brightest star in the sky. “And that’s where I come from.”

Knowing little about astronomy, I queried as to whether or not it was the North Star.

“I’m not sure,” she said hesitantly, “but my dad calls it ‘Karen’, after me.”

Then she sat gently on her haunches and smiled at me.

“Which star do you come from?” she asked presently.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “Maybe King Harold’s star.”

“Oh, no,” she said with an air of imperious certainty. “Everyone has a different star; the star that was you before you were born. You must find it. Then you can wish upon it.”

“But if I don’t know which star is mine,” I implored, “how can I wish upon it?”

Karen fell silent for a while, and then turned to me with a whisper.

“I’ll let you wish upon my star.”

“Really?” I asked in a flummox, quite abashed.

“Yes,” she said. “Anything you wish. But just one wish, nothing more. And you mustn’t tell me. It has to be a secret.”

I thought long and hard, closed my eyes, then wished upon Karen’s star. And when I turned to face her, she was gone.

I’m still waiting for that wish to come true. But I don’t have long to wait, for I have already parted with the first shots in the Leaderless Resistance, of which I shall say nothing.

More I cannot do. Nor should you do more than can be realistically achieved. But we are now at war. The demonic and malevolent Lisbon Treaty, written and formulated by Jewish lawyers, must be rejected by the people of England by all means necessary, even though this may (and indeed will) lead to civil war or a long-awaited national revolution of independence. I am more than willing to take up firearms and selectively target in Brussels those who have conspired to rob me of my God-given rights bestowed upon me as a freeborn Englishman. Americans must likewise resist their cooption into the Marxist North American Union.

Only the people of America and England have the will and the political and military power to prevent the inception of a Globalist, Zionist New World banking system and governmental codex. Inevitably, if we remain true to ourselves and those whom we love, we shall win. We always do. We are fighters.

One day we shall all be called upon to fight for our liberties and very substance or die peacefully like cowards and slaves in the comfort of our own beds.

I choose to fight.

What are you doing today?

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Michael James, an English patriot, is a blacklisted former freelance journalist resident in Germany since 1992 with additional long-haul stays in East Africa, Poland and Switzerland.

Mike James

Mike James, an Englishman, is a former freelance journalist resident in Germany since 1992 with additional long-haul stays in East Africa, Poland and Switzerland