Homage To The Post-First World: My Wanderings in Europe, Part 3

Stockholm, Sweden

Greg and I left the club in a state of shock. I had been to some terrible night clubs back in Washington, DC, but this one took the cake.

I mean, c’mon, what about Swedish House music? When people think of Stockholm, they think DJs and house music, hot blond women and Svedka vodka.

I had seen the ads, so I felt like I knew what to expect.

But we had started to notice that something was up the minute we went down into the metro. It was like leaving the land of the Eloi and entering the land of the Morlochs. The smell of fresh piss was hard to miss, as were the gypsy beggars, and the fact that we suddenly found ourselves to be in the minority. Africans jumped the turnstiles ahead of us and the cars were filled with full hijab’d women pushing baby strollers.

The minute that we got out in downtown Stockholm, near Stureplan, things got better. There were only well-to-do Swedes around us now. Boomer Swedes burning their life-savings away at fancy restaurants and Millennial Swedes dressed up for a night out on the town.

Anyway, despite laying down 300 Swedish Krona (about 35 USD) at the door, we were keen on leaving almost as soon as we got in.

It looked inviting from the outside, to be fair. All the local guide books recommended the place and even the globetrotters on the PUA forum that I frequented back in the day had a thread up praising the place. To be fair, we should have noticed how the Arab bouncers at the door looked at us.

But we had no choice.

The other clubs on our list had already rejected us at the door at that point. Those Millennial Swedes all got in quite easily. So did their New Swede friends that would pimp-roll in after them. And funny enough, it was Swedes working security there. They shook their heads, refused to make eye-contact and just refused to let us in. Worse, they brushed off our clumsy attempts to bribe them.

It was yet another lesson to us that Sweden can be a very cold place to the wrong kind of foreigners.

Anyway, this was our first break all night. Overall, the Arabs didn’t seem to mind. They just took our money and nodded us in.

Once we got inside, we saw nothing but White girls with Africans and Arabs. In America, it’s usually women with low value on the dating market mixing it up with non-Whites (unless they are rich and famous non-Whites), but in Sweden, it’s something else entirely. It’s good-looking blond bombshells doing all the mixing, just like the ads and TV tells them to to.

This in a country with one of the worst sex ratio imbalances in the world. Which is fine, I suppose. Who were we to judge, right? It’s their country and their women…well, I suppose that’s a stretch. Saying either of those statements could land the average Swede in big trouble…

Regardless, speaking of the Swedes, there were a few of them at the club.

You can’t help but be impressed by their appearance. Literally all of them wear well-fitting suits and have perfectly-coiffed hair. You notice that almost immediately about the whole city. Even the Arabs in Stockholm have very nice hair, like they went to a barbershop for a touch-up over their lunch break.

The trendy Swedes were indeed some of the most fashionable doormats that I had ever seen. And I have to give credit where credit is due; they mingled quite well with the New Swedes. They treated them with all the reverence that one would accord the latest IPhone model or a stylish Gucci handbag.

But Greg and I squirmed uncomfortably at the ratio and winced at the blaring hip-hop. We left after half an hour.

And we don’t get far from the club before a Swede hails and ran up to us. His face is half-lit up by the ultra-pink neon light coming from the glowing club décor.

Greg and I are very surprised.

This is the second Swede in all of Sweden that seems to want to talk to us. The first was a man out with his family to the local McDonalds, earlier in the day. We asked him for directions and he was happy to talk to us, helpful even.

We had heard a lot about pathologically altruistic Swedes, but he was the first that we had met in the wild, so to speak.

He told us to be careful, that the city was dangerous and not to go into the immigrant suburbs.

I nodded along as affably as I could and finally asked him why he was so…uncharacteristically gregarious.

“Oh,” he said and shook his head knowingly as if he knew what we were driving at.  “It’s because I’m fuckin’ drunk,” he said and grinned.

I chuckled and complimented him on his ability to hold his liquor. He responded by pulling me in for a hug so that I could sniff him. The smell of beer was strong, but he let me go almost immediately.

“See, I’m not lying!” he exclaimed. “All Swedes can do this.”

But this second Swede shuffling towards us out of the neon haze didn’t seem drunk.  “Friends!” he shouted out and raised his arms as if to hug us both.

I don’t feel like hugging anybody, so I side-step him and smile past the awkwardness.

“What’s up, friend?” I ask.

“Friend! Yes, you are my friends!” He latches onto that word and seems ecstatic.

Greg and I immediately notice that something is wrong. He has an unnaturally high-pitched voice and we can see that he is twitching now.

We don’t have to wait long to find out what’s up.

“Amphetamines, my friend? What do you want, I can give it to you.”  He says.

He keeps jabbering and suddenly we notice a New Swede who materializes by our side out of nowhere. “My friend has it, look he is the one, talk to him.”

It’s a small Eritrean with a rat-like face, chipped yellow teeth, bloodshot eyes and a greasy pony-tail looking right up at me. He looks nothing like the twitchy, blond, curly-haired angelic young Swedish kid next to him.

He is jabbering something as well.

“Amphetamines, my friend? Or cocaine. I give it, my friend.” He says with much worse English.

The Swede starts thumping his little chest. “This is my very good friend!” He practically shouts it at us as we back up to maintain distance.

“Your friend?”  I ask and smile, turning up my preventative politeness shield.

At this point, I’m already turning my head all around me looking for more friends who might be lurking in the shadows.

But the Eritrean can already tell we are not buyers. He pushes off the Swede, who has wrapped an arm around his shoulders and slinks back into the alley he came from.

The Swede shrugs and stumbles back as well, but into the neon shadow of the club that we had found him in.

We watch him round the corner and then head on home ourselves.

All in all, it has been a rough night, and with most of the public transportation already closed, we have to hoof it back home to our idyllic little island suburb immediately to the West of the city on foot.

Luckily, we meet no more friendly Swedes along our way.

St. Petersburg, Russia

I went to the “More” club all alone and with no drinks in my system. It’s a place right in the heart of downtown, but not in the infamous Dumskaya complex where foreigners are easy targets for hustlers and easy women. No, the place I want is more like a stand-alone hole-in-the-wall club for first- and second-year college students that haven’t learned how to be melancholic Hipsters yet. It means “sea” in Russian.

I toss back a couple of shots for good measure at the bar. Looking around though, I immediately begin to relax. The Russian bouncers have done an excellent job. Everyone in the club is either Russian or a European exchange student.

Not at all like what you have to deal with in the Post-First.

The disco lights fall like polka dots on the dancers faces in the middle of the dance floor. They sway to the garbage music with all its inane boops and beeps. But as I look around me, I don’t feel disgust or disappointment, no, quite the opposite—feelings of peace, warmth and happiness flow from my chest into the rest of my body.

I hiccup and smile at the sensation.

A girl dancing nearby smiles back. She turns her back to me immediately afterwards and swishes her hair with a flick of her hand as she continues to move her hips to the music. I don’t miss the tell-tale sign and immediately approach. I start dancing right behind her, pretending to not look her way as I brush up against her arm. She turns around with a look of faux surprise on her face. Our eyes meet and I shrug and grin.

That’s all it takes and off we go, swaying together with the rest of them.

But I get this feeling that I want more, that I am too far out, and I can feel that this isn’t where I want to be right now.

I want to be in the dead center of the floor, right next to the DJ, not even sure why.

So I make eye-contact with the girl dancing next to me and the first girl. Our eyes don’t really catch and the flint doesn’t hit the flash pan. No matter, the second girl I look at seems more keen. And she’s deeper into the crowd.

The music pauses for the big drop and I shuffle one step over right as the base drops and everyone starts thrashing their heads and jumping. When she pulls her hair out of her eyes, she’s looking at me and we grin at each other before jumping with the music again.

But it’s still not enough.

I’m definitely in the crowd now, but not quite the center. And why exactly do I want the center so badly?

It’s hard to explain.

But I’ve just come back from travelling in the Post-First and I need to recharge. I feel totally spent and completely miserable. I want to be like a tick and burrow myself into the warm center of…something.

I want to let down my guard and be swept away by the feeling of closeness to other people. I want to be surrounded by the sea of humanity and drowned by it.

I feel it in St. Petersburg like I’ve never felt it before anywhere else.

Funny that.

And it’s not just the clubs or the alcohol in my system talking.

You can even feel it in the streets which are like arteries, on the corners where the street bands play. They draw people in from the streets like an aorta. Crowds gather around them as they sing Russian rock songs from the ’90s. People all know the words. Some songs the men whoop and shout and sing out the lyrics, for other songs the girls sigh, scream and coo all at the same time.

And you just want to be in the middle of it all. To have your white little puffs of breath merge with everyone else’s and feel close to that elusive warm beating heart that all life wants to crowd around. To be surrounded by people that look like you.

Anyway, that’s when I see her in the club. She’s the prettiest girl there, obviously a model or something. She’s dancing with her girlfriend right in the center of the floor.

I make another switch and just like that, I’m so close to her. But she doesn’t make eye contact with me. I’m stuck there for awhile, pondering my next move. Then by lucky chance, her friend looks my way.

I pounce on the opportunity.

Another bass drop and another switch. She sees me do it and is ready to hit the beat. At that point, the music doesn’t even seem that bad to me. We jump up and down and we start laughing. She’s got a great smile and I’m so close.

Her hot friend notices the newcomer, and I “notice” her. She suddenly seems more keen on me now that she sees her friend getting all the attention.

I wait for the drop, and then I make the final switch.

And whoosh…there I am. Right in the beating heart of it all. I can’t help but notice that she’s something else. The lights flash and her ice blue eyes seem to glow at me. Ah, it’s wonderful. Even the feeling of all the other eyes on you, the hungry eyes of the men on her and that heaving, thrashing wave of people bashing up against you with every swell of the music is more intoxicating than the alcohol.

And I wonder if the party-goers at Bataclan felt the same way.

The thought crosses my mind that feeling that kind of high and then losing your life straight after might not even be such a bad way to go. They probably crowded into that concert hall one evening to listen to some garbage music and most importantly, feel closer to all the other atomized cells around them. It’s hard to be a lone cell all the time and the desire to feel close to other cells and join an interlinked system of cells can be overwhelming.

For a moment, I feel a surge of pity for them. Even if they were all vacuous shitlibs, deep down they just wanted to be part of something common, and not be cast out to the fringes of polite society. I can emphasize with that, I suppose.

The pretty girl and her friend snap me out of my ecstatic trance by indicating that they want to go outside to smoke.

I join them and they immediately share their cigarettes, quite unlike civilized Westerners. Outside in the tired white light of St. Petersburg’s summer night sky they notice that I am younger than they are. They’re almost 30 and they tease me for being closer to 25.

But it’s alright.

Everything feels alright that night. For awhile I forget about what is happening over in the Post-First. I feel like there might be a chance that everything might turn out alright after all. And so I lean on the wall, and listen lazily to their chatter.

I take a drag of my cigarette and I am deeply grateful, if only for a moment.

27 replies
    • silviosilver
      silviosilver says:

      Marian, you’ve got to be kidding. The kid went searching for bad news and, lo and behold, he found boatloads of it.

      I mean, sheesh, he’s heard all the horror stories about the number of non-whites in Sweden, and then goes there and he acts stunned when he actually encounters them? Notice, none of them actually did anything to him, so he had to invent a foreboding detail about the way some Arab bouncers looked at him – cos, hey, when a bouncer looks at you, we all know what that means! But really, the worst that came of the night was some African’s attempt to sell him drugs. Big deal. That happens to me like clockwork every time I go out. It’s absolutely nothing out of the ordinary in 2017.

      What really got him down was clearly the intensity of cross-racial interaction he observed. That’s understandable, since, in a rather real sense, he was witnessing his race’s life force ebbing away before his eyes. Dispiriting stuff, to be sure. Like so many on the far right, however, he makes the fateful leap from that genuine concern to concluding that because racial policy is wrong, everything else is wrong too.

      The giveaway is his use of the word “atomized.” People on the far right are forever banging on about atomized this and atomized that. There’s scarcely a human activity, no matter how widespread and ostensibly normal, that won’t be accused of being atomized by these folks. In this piece, it’s dancing club-goers who are atomized; other writes deplore activities as ordinary and necessary as driving to work – observing the streams of cars in morning rush hour was apparently more than the writer I have in mind could bear. Playing golf, enjoying a movie, a spot of gardening – atomized, atomized, atomized. You’ll note that these writers consider it completely sufficient to merely note that something is “atomized,” and the audience is expected to dutifully conclude that it’s therefore very bad indeed.

      Well, the simple fact is very, very, very few whites would agree that these activities are as horrifying as the far right portrays them. This terribly impairs the far right’s ability to communicate its genuine racial concerns. People simply regard them as a pack of terminally malcontent kooks. This is very unfortunate, since those on the far right are some of the most committed and determined of all pro-white activists. Oodles of talent are being squandered by this tendency to paint the bleakest possible picture.

      • Rerevisionist
        Rerevisionist says:

        I think I agree. He obviously wants to write something that will sell. Everything hidden away, secret, arranged behind closed doors; every change of ownership, secret deal with paper money, sale which has long-term results is hard to identify, and therefore not in the story, however important. We need and deserve more.

      • Up from the rabbit hole
        Up from the rabbit hole says:

        Very interesting observation. Discos in my city were filled w Arab guys (students) dancing w white women in my day. White guys didn’t like Disco music!! They were somewhere else. Sometimes girls like to dance disco! They meet white guys elsewhere. Hopefully.

      • JM
        JM says:

        “…very, very, very few whites would agree that these activities are as horrifying as the far right portrays them.”
        You go beyond your criticism of the article and throw around this nomenclature of “Far Right” like confetti and imply that masses of people are indifferent to the spin-offs caused by the presence of “immigrants”, including the fact that the crime rate of immigrants is far higher than that of the native inhabitants and they are relentlessly moved into the neighborhoods of working people, whose original character is the first to be destroyed, in some cases by massive displacement. The fact is that it is working people, not yet the top end of the middle class who suffer from this and have done for decades. It is easy for those who either do not make themselves aware of such realities or who are indifferent to them, to make the claims you have.
        This post from a German, along with almost limitless other evidence should be enough to convince anyone of the truth of what I have written above:
        “In every small German village we have negroes…German women cannot (or only at very high risk) go “jogging” in the wood. And all this serves as a “wake-up-call”. Germans have now almost no opportunity to avoid the conflicts, to go away and to shy away. We are like cornered rats now and we have to fight.”

        • silviosilver
          silviosilver says:

          My fair and reasonable use of the term “far right” in no way implies that “masses of people are indifferent to the spin-offs caused by the presence of immigrants.” Far rightists are not the only critics of immigration, you know. There are plenty of critics of such policies that I would in no way categorize as far right.

          • JM
            JM says:

            You missed the substantive points of my post. Never mind, it wasn’t for you anyway. I don’t waste time with incorrigibles, leaving that to the unfolding of events. In your case, you’ll likely get worse.

  1. Rob Bottom
    Rob Bottom says:

    I get disgusted just browsing the multiculti-infused Ikea catalog, reading this I wonder how I would handle browsing their nightclubs.

  2. Rehmat
    Rehmat says:

    YES – it seems Swedish foreign minister Margot Wallström is the only one who likes Muslims. In February 2017, while she visited Tehran – she wore hijab.

    In March 2017, Margot Wallström slammed Donald Trump over his Muslim ban from seven Muslim-majority nations. She even threatened to ban Israeli Jew tourists to Sweden.

    It is deeply regrettable that the United States will stop people from Iran, Iraq, Libya, Somalia, Sudan, Syria and Yemen from entering the country, given the incendiary and aggressive nature of Trump’s new immigration ban, we want to ban Israelis from entering our country,” she said in a statement.


    • John Walton
      John Walton says:

      Hmm…. Sweden might turn out alright after all. What I would give to see Trump try to ban Israelis! The society would collapse instantly.

  3. John Walton
    John Walton says:

    We need more articles like this. Especially liked the positive tone in combination with the sense that the author was an intelligent and sophisticated younger person.

  4. silviosilver
    silviosilver says:

    I join them and they immediately share their cigarettes, quite unlike civilized Westerners.

    What are you talking about? It’s completely commonplace in the western countries I’m familiar with (Australia, USA), especially with a person you’re interested in, and I highly doubt it’s different elsewhere – the often exorbitant cost of cigarettes notwithstanding.

      • silviosilver
        silviosilver says:

        You know, I think you’re right. The other night I took my pack out and was about to light up when I decided to offer my casual conversation partner a cigarette. Boy, you should have seen the whole room freeze and stare. Later, I overheard people muttering under their breath about my weird behavior. It was clear they’d never witnessed anything so bizarre. I think I could make out one girl suggesting to her friend that I must be from eastern Europe or something.

  5. Reval Revival
    Reval Revival says:

    Fascinating and grim read, i think this might be a beginning of a whole genre of modern catastrophe porn.

  6. Mark
    Mark says:

    Great read! I really enjoyed it
    What is wrong with those Swedish girls wanting to race mix with subhuman turd worlders? They must really hate their father.
    Import turd world become turd world.

    • Rerevisionist
      Rerevisionist says:

      It doesn’t follow that mixing with turds means breeding with turds. You’re possibly overlooking the fact that Jew policy is to finance invasion with paper money. That’s why they are there. If you take into account rent, taxes, benefits of all kinds, some of the invaders have more money than the locals. It’s deliberate policy. It’s true it’s disgusting; but don’t forget white males also whore for Jews in many jobs.

  7. Rehmat
    Rehmat says:

    Aha! The good-old St. Petersburg has a nasty Muslim history too.

    In 1906 a piece of land in St. Petersburg was bought by the Emir Abdul Ahat Khan of Bukhara from Czar Nicolas II to build the largest mosque in Europe. On February 3, 1910 – the Emir laid mosque’s corner-stone. The first prayer was held on February 22, 1913 but the mosque was completed and opened on April 30, 1920 for regular prayers. It remained the largest mosque until 1990s but now it is the fourth largest one – the other top three being in Russia too. The mosque has tiled azure dome and 157 ft. tall minarets.

    The Orthodox Church leaders were against the sale of land to Muslims. Their newspaper, Kolokol, wrote in 1909 that “if the Muslim church were built, a disaster would befall Russia”. Maybe, that “disaster” was the Communist Revolution (1917), which installed the first Jewish President of Russia and later killed over 60 million Russian Christians under the rules of Lenin (Jewish) and Stalin (Jewish)!

    In 1924, the communist-regime converted the major portion of the mosque into a warehouse for storage of potatoes, fruits and vegetables. In 1940, the building was closed down for prayers. In October 1956, the mosque was opened for prayer during the visit of Indonesian President Ahmed Sukarno – as part of ‘religious tolerance’ propaganda. In 1980s, the city officials were about to close the mosque permanently, but the Christian city vice-president Mikhail Filonof, did not allowed the city elders to vote on the resolution and saved the mosque from demolition. Muslims and the concerned residents of St. Petersburg, both Christians and Jews – collected funds and did volunteer work to restore the mosque, which was completed in 2003.


  8. Marc
    Marc says:

    Many thanks for this excellent, but terribly depressing article! Now for sure, ANY racially conscious person should NEVER even attempt to travel to such terminally sick, multi-racial pigsties such as the “Nordic” countries…which today are no more “Nordic” than Brazil or the Democratic Republic of Congo!!… DO NOT waste any money traveling in such vomitive shit-holes, and please BOYCOTT all of their products! The sooner such fetid multi-racial sewers will collapse from their rottenness, the better!…

  9. Tom
    Tom says:

    The only good thing about the Islamist invasion of Europe is that eventually the Muslims will get rid of the feminized leftist SJW types that permitted the catastrophe to develop in the first place. Perhaps then the remaining Europeans will be more attuned to their survival needs. But if a hybridization between leftist insanity and religious Islam occurs, then God help us all.

  10. Andrea Ostrov Letania
    Andrea Ostrov Letania says:

    Just like it’s difficult to serve two masters, it’s difficult to lead two peoples.

    Why are so many white working class and underclass morally confused and falling apart? There is no leadership: politically, socially, culturally, historically, morally, spiritually.

    In the past, white leaders led white masses. White body was led by the white mind. And the white mind had a sense of right and wrong and prodded the white body to act accordingly… like Moses leading the Hebrews.
    But now, the white body has no leadership because the white mind no longer cares about the white body. Jewish Globalists wanted it this way. They educated and inculcated white elites with ‘white guilt’ and made them feel morally and intellectually superior for snubbing the Archie Bunkers of the world. Also, the Jewish Globalists vulgarized the white masses with junk culture and Jerry Springerism so that they would to become too stupid to heed to good sound advice.

    Today, white leaders are expected to represent and lead ALL peoples. But the interests of blacks, browns, yellows, Hindus, Muslims, and etc are so different from the needs of white folks. When white leaders are supposed to represent Diversity than whiteness — esp when whites must bear the brunt of ‘white guilt’ — , white masses get no leadership. Also, as ‘white privilege’ is deemed evil, white elites(who have privilege) feel a need to justify their tainted privilege by cucking out to non-whites and Jews who, despite their great privilege, hold the holocaust card of eternal holy victimhood.

    A man who tries to serve two masters will end up confused and crazy.
    A man who tries to lead two, three, or more peoples will the task impossible.
    Even an inspired figure like Gandhi found it impossible to represent and lead both Muslims and Hindus, thus being helpless to watch the partitioning of India into a Hindu majority nation and Pakistan as the Muslim nation. (Notice Netanyahu doesn’t pretend to represent Palestinians along with Jews. He is a Jewish leader of Jews thru and thru.)
    In time, the would-be leader of many peoples just becomes jaded and cynical. His yammering about Diversity just turns into self-serving machination of careerism. As he finds it impossible to lead many peoples, he prefers to just serve himself and the one master: The Zionist-Globalist elites. Indeed, even as the white elites are confused and lost in their lame effort to lead all peoples, they are concentrated and focused on serving ONE uber-master, the Glob. It’s easier to serve one master than lead many peoples. No wonder then that so many politicians just opt to serve the Jewish globalist uber-masters.

    Ideally, white elites need to stop serving the Glob and need to serve the white masses. Let non-whites rely on their own non-white leaderships.

    Anyway, the white race needs to think like blacks with NAACP and Jews with AIPAC. Even when blacks and Jews don’t control political office, they are represented by organizations that are meant to explicitly represent them and serve their interests. Hispanics have La Raza, lately renamed to something else.

    Whites need something similar. Of course, this pro-white organization that ALWAYS represents whites regardless of winds of political fortune must be something sane and responsible. Unfortunately, explicit White Representation has been associated with KKK and the like.

    A National Humanist White Organization is most necessary. One that is moral and responsible.

    Because most whites only rely on politics, they feel represented or unrepresented depending on who wins elections. But if whites have a solid social or cultural organization organization to lead and represent them 24/7, they will be empowered even when they lose elections. It’s like Jews have ADL and AIPAC working on their behalf regardless of who is president, senator, or governor.

  11. Elizabeth
    Elizabeth says:

    The problem with the idea of white leadership of any kind is all whites are already vilified and apparently have no right to exist. A potential white leader to coalesce the vilified white masses would be even more targeted and vilified. Practically illegal. Any group that behaves like the ADL etc. (ad infinium) will also be vilified and called Nazi, KKK etc. The white people of the world are in very sad and difficult predicament.

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