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December 11th, 2016 
Awake Goy Victim. I’ve spent a lot of brain hours dissecting the word. For awhile, I threw the thing away because I was so bloody sick of hearing about people and their boo-hoo skinned knees. Victimocracy, that’s what I’d determined the Western World has become. A motley gaggle of slithering, empty-eyed, soulless husks tripping over each-other’s shuffling feet as they struggle to have the loudest, most pervasive complaints.
That rule by victimhood had predominated. The liberals, the libertines – egged on by the Jew, by the elites, by traitors; achieved victory by utterly eroding any opposing voices. It came to pass that the conservatives, the republicans, and even the fascists, the nationalists; came to view compromise as an effective tool to combat the deafening sound of celebrated cowardice.
So forgive me if I sound cynical regarding the name Victim. Every liberal died for the sins of the world… you know… died inside, and got PTSD from reading this article. Or something.
Pfah!
But there really are victims. It will sound posh, and crass, and stickily sentimental. The victims are our children. From the age bracket of considerably less than 0 all the way to 18 abouts and up. Children have little in the realm of a say in their destiny. They inherit the world that is created for them by their forebears. Their minds are shaped by them. Their hands wield the hand-me-down tools of living.
It’s something I’ve had time to consider since getting married. Production of a little Morse was supposed to begin immediately. But, we’re having trouble with our remedial cell division and allele multiplication. After a handful of miscarriages, my level of disgust with the way children are commodified has reached a pique of absolute revulsion. At first I was able to suck up my disgust and not let it get to me, but at times it is incredibly hard to keep from being bitter.
When I: see the mongrel babies with their white trash mammies smoking a cigarette with one hand, texting with the other thumb and pushing a stroller with their crotch… I want to reach out and (violently) touch someone. When I see the armies of unidentifiably Hispanic brownie babies following their Mamis like ducks in a row to the EBT checkout… same experience. Oh, I know people who just have a baby one day and carry on like a doomed deer in the headlight, “I tell ‘ya Paul I never thought it could happen.”
Gimme a fucking break.
I know people who say: if I knew what I know now – I’d have never even had kids. Feminist scum say: children would get in the way of my career. Idiot man-whores say: I don’t want to be shackled down.
Good! You people shouldn’t be breeding anyway! But you do, you ungrateful worms. And do you know who will suffer? Not the undeserving parents. The fact that they whine and complain about the inconvenience of child-rearing only goes to indicate the fact that they are nothing but attention whores.
The children suffer. We have reached a stalemate where already, children are born into homes that are emotionally and spiritually unequipped to handle children. Mind you, there is a financial component involved, but frankly, where Whites are being bankrupted on every count, this has become an insufficient excuse to dam the sperm and fry the eggs.
Parenthood is a subliminal honour. To bear children is participation in the Godhead. In the most literal and unswerving of ways, it is the very definition of godhood. To bring new life I into existence where before there was naught but little building blocks; every mythology known has this as the cornerstone, in so many words.
To bring into life your bairn, knowing full well that you have created a unique destiny, is awesome beyond comprehension. Among the Catholics there is the argument that an abortion is a genocide. Their logic follows: that when one terminates a youth, they extinguish the line they would have produced, which stretches on potentially to infinitude.
In my little clan of Morses, I am the last man who has chance to carry on my family name. I have no full-blooded siblings to do this. No cousins of the same name. My Father is too old to have another son. My Grandfather is dead.
Imagine the pain and frustration one feels, after a year of effort, to watch subhumans continue to propagate, yet those who have dreamt of making families of their own are denied that which they dream of. So yes, I do impose my “pompous, moral imperiousness” (as one woman accused me of having) upon the situation. I will pass judgement; my vantage is clear. I have no shame in doing this because in this I am right. I say it with absolute conviction. I gave two years of my life rearing the mismatched children of others, and before that, missionary labours before racial awareness in foreign places. I have lived a lot of my life in the attempt to pass on guidance, to help others become something better.
When I weigh a moral riddle, I ask a panel of questions. How does this benefit my future family? How does it benefit the tribe I want to see made? And how does it benefit the world abroad? All are building blocks. Society considers few, if any of them.
Since early childhood I have admired the role of the parent. In my life, perhaps my most expressive quest has been for that of moral purity. This ties into my earliest memory; of asking my mother if I was good. Her answer was that it was my decision, to be good or not. And it is a riddle I have pondered all my now 28 years of stumbling around this Earth. Were it not for the interlocution of my mother, I would never have thought to ask the questions, and were it not for my Father, I’d have never had the discipline to see those answers through.
Now, do parents consider their legacy? Do they consider their role in the continuation of life? Have they no inkling the power they actually wield? Or is it taken for granted? Self-knowledge, as I have written about elsewhere, has been so lost that entire generations of unthinking youth have passed on through.
They, lacking the spinal column of their parents, go through the system and are shaped by it and not by blood. Their birthright is sold for something significantly less valuable than red lentils, thank you Esau.
Nationalist! Do you have kids? If you do, think it through. Give it honest thought. Take stock of yourself. Who are you? What is your ideal man or woman? How is this human forged? How does your parenting style encourage your children to fill that role? What are your life’s choices doing to reflect this? What are you doing to prepare soul and body for the role your children will inherit?
A child has to pick and choose through everything genetic and constructive that came before them. They select the traits of their parents that define them, through imposed or learned behaviour. They imitate, first, and those select few learn to make the choices. They are products, but so much more than that.
Society will never afford them a home worth having so long as it is governed by foreign interests. Society will never provide for children a holistic home that nurtures the spiritual, the physical and emotional. Society will only produce drones – automatons who are sensate and live only for fleeting pleasures. It is the family that provides timeless morals and creates mental intrigue. A good society rotates around the family. You will find that each and every ancient culture worth noting rotated around the family.
Ancient Greece, from the Oikos to the Demos, was governed by a formulaic ideal of the family. With Rome, it was the Paterfamilias. The ancient Celtic, Nordic and Teutonic tribes all had family structures. The children were always the inheritor of the family.
Nationalism is a cure for the ills of a broken society. As an ethnic interest, Whites have the power and the duty to decide for ourselves, what is best for our future. This is not a government affair. The UN has no business here. Our bodies, our rights. Our children, our future. We have the power to create a nexus of culture that allows for future growth. We have the power to make America great again. Make Europe rise once more. We have the power to be. Yet, as it stands now, our very existences are dictated to us by foreign powers.
It can stop. It begins at home. Ours is a generational struggle. Only children, buffered from the start, equipped with self-awareness and strength of character, can hope to fully turn the tide. So parents – consider how lucky you are. Consider; you do not have the luxury of apathy or failure. Your body is a temple, your mind is a shrine, everything that you are is a stepping stone to something greater. So be greater.
Our future depends upon it.
Source Article from http://www.renegadetribune.com/the-true-victims/
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