Amen,
Thanks for everything
2013 The Year of Rebirth,
Renaissance,Renewal & that
“Slumbering Giant” of Ethnos
will Awaken from the Zog Matrix
or will fade away forever.
They will also fully embrace some
of the common sense strategies
of the tribe, most importantly a
conscious & pervasive & encompassing
Strategy of implicit & explicit ethnic
networking & inclusion.
Or fade away forever
Hip Hip Hooray For Ethno Supreme Commander
Kevin MacDonald
A very merry Christmas to you and yours, Professor Macdonald, and to everyone else here on TOO. To be corny as hell, your site is a gift that keeps on giving.
TOO is one of the best, if not THE best, most informative site on the entire Internet.
My Christmas wish is that TOO stay open and operating in perpetuity to spread truth where there is none.
Yes, as in the old Soviet Empire, the communist/socialist/totalitarian lies of multiculturalism and egalitarianism cannot be maintained because they defy human nature. The lies will collapse in on themselves — hopefully sooner than later.
Merry Christmas from wet and soggy Vancouver but if I concentrate really hard and pretend that the seagulls are snowflakes its a White Christmas after all.
Well they said 95% of Canada would have snow on Christmas, but something like the same percentage of Canadians wouldn’t see it.
Imagine my surprise (just outside Toronto) when great flurries of snow started coming down as I left midnight Mass, and it stuck around until this morning. Can’t beat that kind of timing.
Although I’m not a Christian, I do wish all the Christian Men of the West a very Merry Christmas. We of the West, of all faiths and none, let us prevail: for the cost of failure will be measured with the blood of our children and the ruination of the world.
@norm s: I’m sure that the 66 plus million White Europeans who were systematically mass murdered by the jewish Bolsheviks who ran the former USSR shared this belief, as well.
“I’m sure that the 66 plus million White Europeans who were systematically mass murdered by the jewish Bolsheviks who ran the former USSR shared this belief, as well. ”
Nor would they have been wrong to think so. There is nothing in the small print that says I am going to survive, let alone live to see it. Nor you, nor anyone. But if we think there is something hugely ‘right’ about the European people…something big and important enough that the Universe itself, if it could think…would actually really care about the outcome. Then at that level, the level of peoples and races, it is something we can believe in, because it is True, that ultimately, no matter how hard it is to see standing here now, we will as a people prevail.
I’m sure the millions of WHITE CHRISTIANS killed in Crusades aren’t sure what this site is driving at—with its reference to the crusades that killed their white christian families.
Yule involves bringing in everlasting greens, the yule log, and the recitation of ANCESTORS, (for the white people celebrating); this is not the drunken eating and reversal of “Slave-Master” roles and role playing, and wearing masks, of the carnival of Saturnalia, which the southern europeans celebrated at that time.
For being a “white site,” this is all very insensitive of the White Christians killed by the “crusaders” (i.e., Genociders of whites).
Um… for MANY christians, the world over, “crusade” is an evil word, and involves the Genocide of White people, such as the Hugenots. Please refrain from Genocide of whites on this holiday!
There’s a weak but still noticeable thread from stonehenge and Brittany and other prehistoric white sites, through to the present day. Let’s hope it’s never completely severed.
Hail to Theseus (aka MacDonald)!!! A Happy New Year!!!
The Breaking Mould
by Donald Davidson
“O King,” the atheling said, “how the time of man
Is like to a sparrow’s flight from door to door
Of a hall where men sit feasting, and fire is warm.
From cold and darkness it comes. It is safe from weather
A moment only; then into the dim and outward
Winter it flies again. Does a man speak now
A word more certain than this? Does the tale of Christ
Speak a better word? Then I bid thee follow it.”
The long-haired thanes were silent in hall, and Aedwin
Stroked at his beard. He took the priest’s thin hand
Into both his great ones, hairy and scarred. He bowed
For the blessing of Christ his body, clashing with mail.
The Northumbrian shields upheld an alien captain.
The body of Christ was king in the circle of spears.
And lo, I was seized, marching from Baltic forests,
Or pressing beyond the Danube, the Rhine, or the Seine.
Salty with wash of the fjords, rimy with sea-spary,
I in my great boar-helmet was seized and won
By a lean priest whose eyes were kindling with dreams
Of the blessed Rood. I was gentled with Latin hymns,
Cleansed with holy water and crowned with thorns,
And told to remember a sin I had not known.
The hammer of Thor was fallen forever, and Odin
Looked upon Asgard sadly. Twilight came
With a mild Christian splendor of bells and incense.
The Goths unbuckled the sword. The sons of the Goths
Remembered the saints in stone with arches leaping
Heavenward like my soul from the desolate earth.
But now a hammer shines in the hand of Luther
Nailing the ninety-nine theses on a door
At Wittenberg where sparks fly up. Tyndale
Burns, and Scotland’s burning. A voice cries,
I tell thee, Master Ridley, this day we light
A fire, O such a fire, shall burn and never
Shall be put out. Now merry England’s burning,
And I, dancing with sinful friends on the village green,
Heard voices crying out of heaven, Fly!
Fly from the wrath to come! And as I slept
I dreamed a dream of Beulah Land for which
I fought on Naseby Field, and later sailed
To a land not Beulah Land. With my father’s claymore
I still fled sin to the western mountains. There
The hunting-shirts were bowed at Watauga Old Fields,
And Samuel Doak, before King’s Mountain, prayed
To the ancient god of battles. Are these not blessed,
The stern lips of mountain men who pray,
Firm in search for god so many a year?
And to me Evangelist came again in the blare
Of a cornet under a canvas tent, a borrowed
Piano tinkling a washed-out music, a sweating
Choir vaguely exalting the youthful blood
Of sinners –
Brother, are you a Christian? Are you
Washed in the Blood? Oh, Brother, sinful Brother,
Come while the choir sings Number Seventy-nine
And give me your hand. God bless you, Brother. God
Bless you, young man. Will there be any stars
Any stars in my crown when at evening…
When at evening, I, a man conceived in sin,
Walked, unthoughtful of sin, I saw overhead
Vega, against the murk of space, and Mars,
A reddish bulb swung closer to this globe
By a few million miles. And Ursa Major
Hurled west against the beating of my heart
Forever, I said, the sun will rise and dawn
Will break again forever. The moon will turn
Its dry face toward the clutching earth, and men
Will walk as I have walked and ask the same
Clean question of a God that never answers…
When at evening I, a man conceived in sin,
Walked, not professing sin, I felt a cloud
Darken the windows of my brain, and death
Looked coarsely in. I said, this mortal plasm
Living by process of all centuries
Not yet has died. The seed is old as man,
Remainder and sum of many bodies, soul
Of infinite souls, an indestructible life.
Then say not, death, I shall not clench this hand
To-morrow…to-morrow I shall not see this sky.
Say not to-morrow this bright urgency
Of looks and words must pass. Oh, come away, death!
I who have no ending cannot know
What it is to end. I who have had no beginning
Know life only. Beyond, by either way,
Is God, whose answer has not come to men
But in the rumors of men – a gypsy race
Who flaunt their pride in legends of old glory
Half-forgotten, repeated as a charm
For comfort’s sake when wind blows cold and death
Stands at the road’s edge, a shadow beckoning Stop.
But still men dare to speak for God and shape
Their fumbling answers into a mould to keep
The quick proud spirit against the outer dread
Of spaceless terrible things. God is the mould
So many times cast off, so many times
Clay on the wheel again. For if ever the soul
Moves in its changeful dreams, the mould must break.
It is my restless soul that stirs. It is
My soul that will not be contained in the dead
Plaster that other hands have made. It is cramped
And like a child within the womb it must
Begone from that which gave it life. It rends,
It cleaves its way, and there is agony.
But if I pass you by, O House of God,
It is not now in scorn. I would not sit
In the seat of the scornful or walk in the way of sinners.
But men are greater than the house they build
Even the House of God. And the prayers of men
Are mightier than the altars where they bow
Their wounded heads in one eternal wish.
I seek the joy of life. I seek the God
Who will not tame the manliness.
Three men am I. And one with pagan blood
Startles at dawn to find no sword at his side,
No hound to answer his horn, no charger ready,
No ashen spear by the wall, no throng of men
Bearded, shining with mail, in the smoky hall,
No noise of the feasting of gods in high Asgard.
And he says in his teeth: Now who has bewildered me
A thousand years with a doctrine of strange tongues?
Who clad me in strange garments? What smooth saws
Were whispered into my ear by Eastern voices?
What were the swarthy faces, what the drug
That sank me into slumber? I am not
Of the blood of Hebrews. Who gave me over to Hebrews?
After a thousand years I have not learned
The voice of the Hebrew God or the Hebrew way.
The second man of me is Puritan,
Who learned of a godly mother the Ten Commandments
And read the Good Book through at the age of twelve,
Chapter by chapter. The hymns of country choirs
Haunt my tongue. The words of stately men
Speaking from ghostly pulpits forbid me still
From shameful things. And youthful prayers arise
Unbidden to my lips in hours of dread.
Woman is sacred still, and wine is a mocker,
The words of God are written in the Book
Which I will keep beloved though earth may speak
A different language unto those who read her.
The third man was born to weigh the sun
And love the clean cool sureties of matter.
Whatever God is, this man does not guess.
He is content to know what all things do
Or can be made to do. How little is man,
He thinks, reckoning the life of stars, and yet
How easily things beneath the stars may serve
This little man’s great will. No question shows
The cause behind a cause, for ever there are
Unmeasured causes still. He had rather walk
The observant friend of the world as it looks to be,
And move with it among all active things,
Using them all, or maybe used by them.
And if he die – why, many men have died!
And what is God? Well, what He is, He is =
Some Great Electron, not yet trapped ore seen,
But there or not, whatever our debates.
In elder days than these men saw the gods.
Red-bearded Thor in a goat-pulled chariot came
To Thialfi’s hut. Men sat at meat with the god,
Tearing the goat-flesh, jesting over the mead
Till the rafters rang and the gold-haired maidens laughed.
And once on a misty dawn by a norther ford
A ferryman answered a stranger’s call, received
Into his boat an old man, one-eyed, gray-cloaked.
The shore was touched. And then the charmed man saw
the gnarled figure straighten and tower. Fog
Swirled round the breast of Odin. The golden voice
Spoke farewell to a man who sat with oars
Poised in a breathless trance. And on that spot
He raised a cairn of stones and slew a horse,
Sprinkling the blood while solemn runes were chanted.
Evangelist, you who called to me on the curb
And waved an inviting hand toward the vacant seat
Beside you in the car, hear this my question:
How can three alien men be reconciled
In one warm mind that like the sparrow flies
In a great hall lit for feasts and the laughter of men,
And would be glad before it goes forever
Out of the opening door? Oh, give me a scroll
Written anew, for where I pass are lions
Walking chainless and devils that will not flee.
The mould breaks, and God must arise again.
And you, my known or unknown friend, believe
that my notion of God is less than my notion of you,
For somehow man encloses the only God
With whom I dare be intimate. I have heard
The brave laughter of men who were fated to die
And cannot think that God surpasses them
In finite beauty – and my world is finite.
And you, beloved, it is no April fire
That brings my lips to yours again. It is
No sudden springtime burning in the veins
That soon must slacken. This is the deepest flame
Ever given to man, the love of life
Summed up in you, for what we have learned of God
Is not yet more mysterious, is not
More powerful a life than this we share,
Companions, lovers, in one destiny.
-Donald Grady Davidson, The Breaking Mould,
from The Tall Men collection of poems, 1927
@Rehmat: Unbelievable balls. It’s only possible because people like those Silverman, can clearly see in whites, the obvious weakness and degeneracy that millions of whites have when it comes to believing in anything but the almighty dollar.
Amen!
In the long run evil will always lose to the Truth. Keep the Faith
Merry Christmas to Dr. Mac and all.
Amen,
Thanks for everything
2013 The Year of Rebirth,
Renaissance,Renewal & that
“Slumbering Giant” of Ethnos
will Awaken from the Zog Matrix
or will fade away forever.
They will also fully embrace some
of the common sense strategies
of the tribe, most importantly a
conscious & pervasive & encompassing
Strategy of implicit & explicit ethnic
networking & inclusion.
Or fade away forever
Hip Hip Hooray For Ethno Supreme Commander
Kevin MacDonald
Merry Christmas to Kevin MacDonald
and the whole crew of the Good Ship
“Ethno Occidental”
A very merry Christmas to you and yours, Professor Macdonald, and to everyone else here on TOO. To be corny as hell, your site is a gift that keeps on giving.
That was very touching, but come now, the lions are hungry, and this mob wants a show. Panem et circens 2012.
Merry Christmas to all of you white people out there. May 2013 be the year we break free from Satan’s children, the money changers.
Thank you for this.
@Norwegian:
Merry Christmas to Norway
Merry Christmas to all from BC canada :)
Merry Christmas all!
TOO is one of the best, if not THE best, most informative site on the entire Internet.
My Christmas wish is that TOO stay open and operating in perpetuity to spread truth where there is none.
Yes, as in the old Soviet Empire, the communist/socialist/totalitarian lies of multiculturalism and egalitarianism cannot be maintained because they defy human nature. The lies will collapse in on themselves — hopefully sooner than later.
I’d like to get this over with.
Bon
Merry Christmas from wet and soggy Vancouver but if I concentrate really hard and pretend that the seagulls are snowflakes its a White Christmas after all.
Merry Christmas to all those who produce TOO and its readers.
A very merry Christmas!
May the West wake up soon from its suicidal course.
May we preserve our homelands, Europe and America, preserve and advance our people, our fertility, our interests.
May God bless us with health, wealth, strength, good fortune and large families. Amen!
Yup. We need to circle the wagons and start aiming our cannons outward instead of at ourselves.
@Ralph: Good point. Merry Christmas all.
Merry Christmas to all and let us renew our dedication to preserving our European heritage in the new year!
@Sandy:
Well they said 95% of Canada would have snow on Christmas, but something like the same percentage of Canadians wouldn’t see it.
Imagine my surprise (just outside Toronto) when great flurries of snow started coming down as I left midnight Mass, and it stuck around until this morning. Can’t beat that kind of timing.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
Although I’m not a Christian, I do wish all the Christian Men of the West a very Merry Christmas. We of the West, of all faiths and none, let us prevail: for the cost of failure will be measured with the blood of our children and the ruination of the world.
Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas all.
I don’t think that’s a corny thing to say. And I’m glad you said it because… it’s good to express genuine gratitude.
I agree with you — this site is very special.
Merry Christmas, T.O.O.
God Jul and good Yule!
Merry Christmas to all!
@George Herouvis:
Ditto.
Merry Christmas to all TOO producers and readers.
A very Merry Christmas from the Netherlands!
I learned a lot from this site. Thank you!
@norm s: I’m sure that the 66 plus million White Europeans who were systematically mass murdered by the jewish Bolsheviks who ran the former USSR shared this belief, as well.
@Luke:
“I’m sure that the 66 plus million White Europeans who were systematically mass murdered by the jewish Bolsheviks who ran the former USSR shared this belief, as well. ”
Nor would they have been wrong to think so. There is nothing in the small print that says I am going to survive, let alone live to see it. Nor you, nor anyone. But if we think there is something hugely ‘right’ about the European people…something big and important enough that the Universe itself, if it could think…would actually really care about the outcome. Then at that level, the level of peoples and races, it is something we can believe in, because it is True, that ultimately, no matter how hard it is to see standing here now, we will as a people prevail.
I’m sure the millions of WHITE CHRISTIANS killed in Crusades aren’t sure what this site is driving at—with its reference to the crusades that killed their white christian families.
Yule involves bringing in everlasting greens, the yule log, and the recitation of ANCESTORS, (for the white people celebrating); this is not the drunken eating and reversal of “Slave-Master” roles and role playing, and wearing masks, of the carnival of Saturnalia, which the southern europeans celebrated at that time.
For being a “white site,” this is all very insensitive of the White Christians killed by the “crusaders” (i.e., Genociders of whites).
On Christmas, at least, one expects better, imo.
Um… for MANY christians, the world over, “crusade” is an evil word, and involves the Genocide of White people, such as the Hugenots. Please refrain from Genocide of whites on this holiday!
Happy Christmas from Britain – north west Europe.
There’s a weak but still noticeable thread from stonehenge and Brittany and other prehistoric white sites, through to the present day. Let’s hope it’s never completely severed.
Not so fast. David Silverman’s group ‘American atheist’, says; keep shopping but dump Christ.
The group has put up a billboard in New York City’s Time Square that reads, “Keep the Merry! Dump the Myth!“
Hail to Theseus (aka MacDonald)!!! A Happy New Year!!!
@Rehmat: Unbelievable balls. It’s only possible because people like those Silverman, can clearly see in whites, the obvious weakness and degeneracy that millions of whites have when it comes to believing in anything but the almighty dollar.
@Rehmat: Reply with: don’t celebrate Hannukah. Keep the happy; drop the hate!
A very belated, very merry Christmas!
Thank you