Why do I fight against all the odds, knowing that, one day, they shall eventually destroy me? I fight because I cannot countenance my living as a slave. Thus fought the men of Alamo, true European-American heroes, each of whom knew he would die in a perhaps vainglorious attempt to defend the American People from the servitude of a tyrannical Foreign Entity, despite the treachery of their own government. They had pitifully little in the way of food and their munitions were severely depleted. They hailed from disparate denominations and European cultural backgrounds, and some of them had even fought one another in a feuding capacity. But what united them was this: They had faith in the American People and their Provider. They had the courage of lions and hearts of gold. They possessed True Grit. And although they were massacred to a man by an army at least 100-times more powerful than they, they won a stupendous empirical and moral victory. Deserted and disowned by the Federal Government, these incredibly brave men of a Leaderless Resistance achieved one of the most astonishing victories in the history of Mankind for Freedom against Tyranny. They laid down their lives so that their children could live in Liberty. Let us never forget the defiant spirit of the Alamo, and those who died so that we should remain free. – (Michael James, 12-23-9)
Whenever I am confronted with the full-bodied nakedness of an Anglo-Saxon, Celtic or other true-blooded European woman, I see the living signature of a Truly Universal God who made it his intention, trillions of years ago, to create and sustain art and beauty on this otherwise corrupted planet in the most delightful form imaginable.
After all, we, who are of ancestral European-American descent were lovingly made in the image of the True Creator, not the Evil god of the ‘Jews’. How could He, who came to warn us as a man against the lies of the Edomites and their future mimics, the Ashkenazim, ever throw forth to one side the sword that was smelted and sharpened in the Love of Truth and desert his beloved children in their hour of greatest need?
For now, that ‘hour of need’ is almost upon us.
We have been taught to be ashamed of pride in our own kind. If you’re Jewish, ‘aboriginal’, Tibetan, or a UN-designated member of an ethnic minority disgustingly opening your bowels from the uppermost reaches of trees deep in the Amazon, your ‘uniqueness’ is not only openly celebrated and trumpeted to the highest of heavens; you also receive largesse well beyond the remit of the world’s fastest shrinking endangered species: Ancestral Europeans. As they say: “All of your taxes belong to us.” And what does not rightfully belong to them, they, the Zionist Jews, shall eventually steal or convert into un-repayable loans exacting blood-sucking rates of interest.
The sad irony is that we are now the true minority. By the end of this century, Ancestral Europeans (white people) will, according the Satanic United Nations’ own statistics, represent less than seven percent of the world’s population. By means of the Jewish engineered usurious bust-and-boom cycle that robs millions of us of our hard-earned pensions, savings and purchasing power, fully in accordance with the Kondratieff Cycle, the Jewish-Freemasonic elites have always succeeded in bringing to ruin every third generation of creative, ingenious and hard-working Americans and Ancestral Europeans.
I’m not what you could describe as a typical ‘survivalist’. Living from one week to the next on a meagre invalidity pension for a vaccine injury administered in 1993, a (temporary) leg infirmity, life-long sleep apnoea and periodic bouts of acute and introspective depression, I shall be amongst the first to starve when the economy goes hyper-inflationary.
Don’t get me wrong. I have always worked my knuckles to the bone, even at the expense of my own health. I have paid untold thousands of pounds and euros into the tax and medical insurance system. I never claimed unemployment benefits, even when I was entitled to do so. I have always worked. I could have endeavoured to play the ‘Jew’ and blame the world for my ‘misfortune’. But I’m an old-fashioned Englishman, and I chose not be a victim, but a victor. My default mode is that of a fighter, a survivor.
However, in common with many of us who find ourselves with our chins to the floor in Corporate-Socialist Germany (a Zionist police state that serves only to provide usurious revenues to the ever-swelling numbers of “I hid in a chimney for almost four years” so-called ‘holocaust survivors’), I possess in my cellar no stocks, no weaponry and no secure shelter against the Zionist-Bolshevik firestorm that is about to rain down upon us.
But I’m one of the lucky ones.
Each day, I see physically enabled (yet terribly distraught) and proud men over the age of 50 rummage, usually by stealth of darkness, through the garbage skips outside of my estate. They’re looking for stale bread, half-eaten Pizzas, and empty bottles which can be fed into a machine at the local supermarket for a 15-cent returnable deposit. All of these men are German.
One day, I decided to sit with one such man on a park-bench next to a bowling alley that adjoins the field that lies like an ever-green virgin of manicured nature tempting all within her gaze to make the long walk through the wooded and ancient Philosophenweg (Path of Philosophers) that leads to Bad Homburg.
I offered him a cigarette, which he willingly accepted.
“You look terribly thin,” I told him. “May I offer you something to eat – perhaps a Bratwurstbrötchen (hotdog) and some Bratkartoffeln (fried chips) at the Metzgerei, the local butchers.”
The man did not reply, but continued, as if it were the oxygen of his life, to draw down deep upon the cigarette I had given him.
Presently, he replied: “Ach, nein. I have no need for food. I can always find everything I require. I have very keen eyes.”
I remembered that I had 40 euros at home, sufficient enough to buy this old hero tobacco enough to last for at least three days, and I put the offer to him.
“Du bist Engländer, oder?”
“Yes, I’m an Englishman,” I replied. “A Geordie born on the banks of the River Tyne.”
“Wie alt bist du?” he enquired.
“I’m still only 49-years-old, but will turn fifty in just a few months. December 20.”
The old man turned to me and said: “Your German is excellent, young man. Do not offer me handouts, for I am too old and too proud to accept them. I was once a professor at Frankfurt University, and I choose to retain my dignity as such.”
He fell into a long, reflective and strangely sad silence, watching a hapless old lady foul her parting shot by at least three yards. Then, quite suddenly, the old boy raised himself to his feet and gently placed his right hand on my head.
“Speak for me,” he managed to whisper, almost all strength gone from his voice and with tears in his eyes.
Then he grabbed me firmly by the shoulders in a half-embrace and said with the vigour of a man whose voice counts for nothing in the Soviet, Jewish-controlled Federal Republic of Germany: “Speak for all of us!”
And then he was gone.
I have no idea as to his whereabouts. But I do know this: He could be you; he could be me. He may be all of us tomorrow.
He is every inch an Ancestral European. He is a homeless American or an unemployed European worker sleeping in a back alley crammed with midnight junkies whose drug supplies are ensured by NATO troops who have re-opened the mass production of heroin with the assistance of their ‘allies’ in Afghanistan, or have, by means of complicit arrangements with South American cocaine gangsters, and the drug syndicates run out of Tel Aviv who work unceasingly to flood the ‘street market’ open to youngsters with a ready supply of ‘white powder’, ‘Ecstasy’ and other brain-destroying drugs.
In the mind of the System, the ‘old man’ I met, probably just a little older than I, is a nobody. He is ‘white trash’.
Yet it was a tiny formation of independently minded ‘white trash’ that defeated one of the largest and formidable armies ever assembled.
The Alamo should forever remain in our consciousness as an exemplar of the courage of ordinary men who, knowing they would surely die, will never go down on their knees to dictatorship and worship imperialist Mammon or the Satanic Jewish New World Order.
James Bowie, hugely charismatic and popular, was elected by the defenders to be their leader. Following an unusually long drinking-binge and several nights of whoring in Béxar, Bowie agreed to share his responsibilities with William B. Travis.
On March 5, General William Travis, prior to the four-week onslaught that astonished the powerful Mexican artillerists, cavaliers and heavily-armed infantrymen, inspected the dishevelled, contentious, argumentative, half-starved and outgunned voluntary, freelance rebels who assembled before him. They were without firewood and slept beneath straw under temperatures approximating 4-degrees Celsius. They comprised the alcoholic yet fearsomely brave scrapper and ‘insurgent’ James Bowie and the hard-drinking womaniser Davy Crockett.
Travis drew a line in the sand of the Alamo and said [paraphrased from multiple sources]: “Cross this line and die with me. Fail to do so and you shall return, not in disgrace or in ignominy, but with my blessings, to the safety of your own families.”
Every patriotic American crossed the line. The only one who held back and disappeared in a flash was (allegedly) a Jew.
Travis was amongst the first to die, and the Mexicans, having blown gaping holes through three critical junctures to the south wall of the Alamo, assumed that the fight would be over within a day. But James Bowie vowed: “No surrender!”
After four weeks of breathtaking resilience and undying resistance, Mexican cannoneers destroyed the north wall and stormed the Alamo expecting all survivors to surrender on the spot. Davy Crockett fought to the death armed only with an empty-leaded rifle, others fought with bricks loosened by artillery fire, and James Bowie, having sustained twelve bayonet attacks on his person, died fighting with his famous knife. His body was found alongside seventeen dead Mexican invaders.
The stragglers, the last of the brave, confronted by an entire regiment of men who had been ordered, in the same fashion as the edicts handed out to the Palestinian-murdering Israeli Defence Force, resisted by fighting with their bare fists. There were no survivors.
Legend has it that the conquering Mexican general, Santa Anna, was so overwhelmed by the courage of this small band of fiercely independent rebels, that he went down on his knees and cried for their bravery.
The Alamo against a Jewish New World Order, the Leaderless Resistance in Europe, is growing in strength daily. Observing the essential rule that no human being should ever be harmed or injured, furtive attacks on the institutions of the State, parasitic investment centres, Jewish-owned banks, and symbols of Zionist power, lone wolves have the authorities in a panic. Thus, for fear of inspiring a popular revolt, few of these pro-human attacks are reported by the mainstream German media. There’s a dictatorial blackout on a silent national revolution. The Parasitic Elites are running scared.
But a thousand tiny bonfires doth an inferno make. The flames are not yet visible; but within less than two years they shall light up our chemtrailed skies that will be seen from continent to continent.
Within the hearts of each and every woman, there exists an Alamo: something deep down inside of you that tells you to resist the lies of Zionism, International Socialism, the NATO War Machine, the Jewish Federal Reserve’s daylight robbery of the American and British people, Nostradamus’ Black Pope (Barack Obama), the official 9-11 report, and the lobby pushing the myth of Global Warming (now neuro-linguistically renamed ‘Climate Change’).
Let’s take an incisive and radical look at ourselves as Americans, English, Scots, Welsh, Irish, Cornish, Europeans, Canadians, Australians, and New Zealanders. We have nothing of which to be ashamed; and everything of which to be proud.
Let us no longer entertain or even countenance the idea of ‘white guilt’, for it was we, and we alone, who, from the beginning of time, brought order, culture and civilisation into a world devoid of real thinking human beings.
This I saw with my own eyes throughout a journalistic three-month stay in Kenya, during which time I worked desperately to unite all of the in-fighting oppositional forces to arraign and execute the Zionist puppet President Moi, whose most favoured form of torture was to imprison a dissident in a cell filled with warm water and leave him for weeks without any nourishment until, from sheer hunger, he was forced to eat his own water-logged, rotting flesh. I also became accustomed to seeing, arbitrarily executed by the police on even the merest suspicion of theft or the non-observance of curfew laws, dead children covered in flies, lying for hours by the side of the street until a local (white-skinned) Catholic or Protestant priest insisted upon the immediate attentions of the almost non-existent ambulance services.
In 1997 I was approached by a group of well-educated young men in August House (Kenya’s Parliament), supporters of Raila Odinga (now the current Prime Minister of Kenya who, in September 1997, eventually connived at my assassination far from the suburbs of Nairobi), and was asked, “Mr Mike, just one letter of commendation from you would help us find refuge in Europe, for the British Nationality Department has always accepted your testimonials as objective character assessments. Please get us out.”
My reply was this: “You must learn not to depend on so-called wealthy nations to support a collapsing infrastructure that was perfect in every respect until we ‘evil’ British colonialists transferred power to Kenyatta. If you, as intelligent, young and educated Kenyans run away from the country that was yours as of birthright, and if you fail to stand your ground and fight for an independent and prosperous nation, your families and your future children shall despise you as cowards. I shall, only under the most extreme of exigencies (many anti-regime critics who were authors and poets had their fingers surgically removed) write letters of commendation to the immigration authorities. You must fight, and, even if that means losing your life, at least it was a life worth living.”
I told them about the story of the Alamo, and they were impressed.
“The government,” I told them, “encourages violent resistance because it gives them an excuse to legislate into law all manner of oppressive measures that will emasculate your ability to fight back against the system. But, should it ever become necessary to defend yourselves, your families and your country against the financial rape of the International Jewish Bankers who have sequestered almost every natural wealth-making resource with which the True Creator blessed Kenya, then fight. But if you choose to fight, do so with the best attack weapons available and the most superlative strategic and tactical advice on hand. A national revolution, if efficiently deployed, saves lives. A civil war engenders years of misery, poverty, instability and untold deaths. If Odinga, your leader and my ex-friend and enemy, had only listened to me, you would now be free. It would have taken less than 48 hours. Grow up and be men, not boys: for victory does not belong to the strong, but to the swift.”
I lost my patience with the Kenyan elite. I ‘reccied’ the television centre in Nairobi, spent ten minutes talking to the two rifled policemen on guard duty, asked them when they chose to sleep, swapped jokes about the fickleness of women, offered them whisky at a discount, made them laugh, swapped cigarettes, learned as to where they lived, and ascertained the nature of their shift hours. I convinced them I was an architect and had one of them help me make a surveillance plan of the entire building. He even gave me a map. I had it all figured.
I purchased several cans of CS gas (for I did not wish to harm in any way the two underpaid troopers who saw me as a friend), decided on the best way to block all side entrances, pre-prepared a series of PPT photographs of dissidents forced to eat their own flesh, and convinced my former military helpers to join me at eight o’clock in the evening to exact a double-whammy: a revolution from the ‘bottom’ and a military coup d’état from the ‘top’. Having worked for almost a decade in the London media, and being a bit of a charmer, I knew that the staff of the state-monopolist KTV would cooperate with me.
One man turned up at the designated time and said that everyone respected my plan but was afraid of my ‘passionate volatility’. They were terrified. Yet, I had always told them: “I’m only the spark; not the fire.” In all reality, being cowards, they were afraid even of their own shadows. Had I drunk a bottle of Scotch that evening and found the strength to shutter-off the exit-points with the huge slabs of concrete we had managed to conceal just yards away from strategically viable escape routes, I would (and could) have done it all by myself. I sat there for ten minutes and considered my chances of success. Without the [unnamed] Air Force general by my side, I knew that I would never succeed in effecting a bloodless patriotic, anti-globalist revolution.
So I quit. I refuse to help those who do not posses the courage and wherewithal to help themselves.
I am, over twelve years later, similarly pained and aggrieved that the American, French and British governments have not decided to point all of their nuclear missiles in the direction of Tel Aviv, despite the fact that Israel has admitted to having every single one of her nukes targeted at every European and American city? Blackmail, anyone? No wonder every newly-elected American President cannot wait to ensconce, as deeply as possible, his tongue deep into the anal recesses of every passing Jewish-Zionist asshhole.
Israel, is an illegal Mafia state. It is a criminally barbarous Bolshevik entity that collectively celebrates, religiously and otherwise, the mass slaughter of Goyim (mostly Christians) and the real people of Celtic Judea, the Palestinians, one of whose foremothers brought Jesus into this world. The so-called ‘Jews’ who currently occupy former Palestine aren’t even Semites. Their forefathers raped goats and cows for shits and giggles some 1200 years ago in the far reaches of sub-Mongolia. They birthed the gypsy race, an inbred clan of natural thieves and tricksters. They hail from disparate regions in Asia Minor. They are not ‘Jews’. They are impostors. Pretenders. Thieves, murderers and liars.
How should we treat this race (and they admit that ‘Judaism’, an anti-Christ demonic religion, is based upon racialist criteria and not upon religious integrity)? A One-State solution, would, in my eyes offer the best solution. The very last thing I wish to experience in the waning years of my life is to see millions of money-grubbing, litigious, parasitic, hook-nosed Israelis land on my doorstep in Germany begging for preferential treatment. The alternative is Lady Renouf’s proposal to send them all back to Asia Minor.
If you read the Bible very carefully, God admits to having made a monumental blunder: the creation of this anti-human race, the Edomites (and later the Ashkenazim) who, together, for the sake of biblical simplicity, collectively became known as the ‘Jews’ (not to be confused with Celtic Judeans or Judahites). God despised them. He hated them with a vengeance. Like all brilliant computer programmers he tried to delete these Trojan horses, viruses and assorted malware from the face of the Earth. Really, God has used systems far more advanced than ‘Steganos Erase’ to free us of these contaminants. But they have a subsystem ‘rootkit tendency’: always creeping back again to infect God’s perfect Operating System.
One year after ‘Operation Cast Lead’, during which the American taxpayer subsidised the supply and delivery of 850 tonnes of flesh-eating white phosphorous that reduced healthy little Palestinian children into mummified corpses, a sign is stolen from Auschwitz, which was one of the best resourced labour camps for non-patriotic Germans that boasted some of the world’s best recreational and health facilities. How fucking convenient. How timely. Goddamn those nasty, horrible Hitlerites!
And yet we all know that the Ashkenazim used this ruse to solicit sympathy at a time when the world is finally awakening to their unending tirade of lies and obsessively self-centred psychopathology. Out with the violins and let us light candles unto the eternal suffering of this uniquely untouchable race that has stolen every penny, cent and dime from the day we were born.
Fiddlers on the hoof.
Hey, look this way and that. It’s all about us. We are Jewish. Our ‘unique suffering’ is now the world’s religion. We, whose forefathers never set foot upon Palestinian soil, are the Chosen amongst all others; and don’t forget it: we control your money supply, your media, your publishing houses, your education system, your medical services, your pharmaceutical companies, your judiciary, your film industry, your airwaves, your television channels, your music industry, your defence budgets, your intelligence agencies and each and every one of your governments.
We, the Ashkenazim-Freemasonic Jews control the minds of your children, and any criticism levelled against us is brutally punished by statutes existent within international law, though we ourselves give not the slightest fuck for any resolution weighed against us in any foreign court of jurisprudence. We laugh at you. You are putty in our hands. You are gormless, dumbed-down, stupefied white-shit believing anything we tell you.
Oh, and by the way, we have nukes pointed at all of your capital cities. Clever little bastards, ain’t we? We have the world by the balls. You will never be anything more than white trash.
They’ve forgotten the Alamo.
Michael James, an English patriot, is a blacklisted former freelance journalist resident in Zionist-occupied Germany since 1992 with additional long-haul stays in East Africa, Poland and Switzerland. He advocates a Leaderless Resistance to destroy the Soviet European Union and is surreptitiously working towards a free and independent England.
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