Nov. 19, 2015 - Radio Free Nortwest - H.A. Covington
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Oh, then tell me, Sean O 'Farrell, tell me why you hurry so.
Hush, awokel, hush and listen, and his cheeks were all aglow.
I bear orders from the captain, get you ready quick and soon, for the pikes must be together by the rising of the moon.
By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon, for the pikes must be together by the rising of the moon.
Oh, then tell me, Sean O 'Farrell, where the gathering is to be.
In the old spot by the river, rightful north to you and me.
One word more for signal, token, whistle of the marching tune.
Warrior pike upon your shoulder by the rising of the moon.
By the rising of the moon.
By the rising of the moon.
With your bike upon your shoulder by the rising of the moon.
Out from Many a mud-walled cabin eyes were watching through the night.
Many a manly chest was throbbing for the blessed warming light.
Corners passed along the valleys like the man she's lonely croon.
And a thousand blades were flashing at the rising of the moon At the rising of the moon At the rising of the moon And a thousand blades were flashing at the rising of the moon Greetings from the Northwest Homeland, comrades.
It's November the 19th, 2015.
I'm Harold Covington, and this is Radio Free Northwest.
Right, this is one of those topics where I had to flip a coin and decide whether or not I wanted to speak about it on the show, but then I decided, what the hell?
Now, it appears as though, for several reasons, I'm going to have to somewhat realign this show's focus in future episodes.
There will be much less racial entertainment and a lot more actual politics and polemic.
More of me and somewhat less of the other stuff.
For one thing, the political and racial situation in this country and throughout the white world is getting worse almost by the month now, and I need to start addressing that reality a lot more than I have been.
You know that expression I've been using for a number of years now?
Hell, all of us have been using for decades now about when the balloon goes up?
For a long time, it's been just a figure of speech, but it's fairly clear now that a very rapid decline in the objective conditions throughout what's left of the white world is beginning to set in.
I've always been amazed at the uncanny and apparently invincible ability of this rotten society to go down a little and then level off for a while until the process starts again, kind of like a ship slowly sinking on an even keel, a little lower each time.
But the fact is that eventually the water coming into the hull gets too heavy, and the ship goes out of balance, and either the bow or the stern goes high in the air just prior to sinking.
I believe that we are approaching that tipping point right now, where the weight of all the sewage just becomes too much and America loses its even keel.
Then there's the so-called migrant crisis in Europe, for which read the Islamic invasion.
Which has now reached a crisis point where even the liberal democracies who control European nations can no longer ignore the fact that the invasion now constitutes a personal threat to them, to their own wealth and power.
Talking about chickens coming home to roost.
The liberal democratic ruling elites are learning now that what goes around does indeed come around, and they're coming to understand that they cannot continue their lives of privilege and luxury if their countries turn into Iraq or Afghanistan.
There are signs that the governments of Europe are finally beginning sluggishly to react in self-defense of that wealth and privilege, although most likely it's going to turn out to be too late and way too little.
So far, no one has yet seriously proposed using military power to physically repel the invasion and force these millions of wogs, almost all of them young men of military age, to return whence they came.
And to shoot them down if they refuse to leave voluntarily, which is the only thing that would do any good at all, and which would necessarily have to be extended to all the Muslims and other third world peoples who were in Europe before this fall, some for generations.
Until such time as someone over there has the balls to implement the Genghis Khan solution, so to speak, then Europe is doomed, and I mean that literally.
That solution is the only one that would work here, either, although the chances that there will ever be any American government with the political will to implement it are zero, which is why we need the Northwest Imperative.
And no, Donald Trump couldn't do it either.
If Trump is elected, he's going to have the entire existing power structure, both Republican and Democrat, working against him to try and undermine his power and authority, not to mention a liberal media who will go absolutely berserk and turn into a ravening lynch mob.
Even if Trump is sincere, he would be unable to accomplish any of his political platform because he would be obstructed and sabotaged at every turn.
He would probably be impeached in short order on some trumped-up charge, or other pun intended, or else simply assassinated by one of those lone nut gunmen who always seem mysteriously to appear out of thin air in this country whenever a problem person really needs to be dealt with.
Again, the solution is simple.
A white homeland here in the Pacific Northwest.
Now, I know it's fashionable among our wee little white nationalist community to disdain system politics and dismiss it all as a dog and pony show, largely because we have no hope of ever participating in it.
Well, that used to be pretty much true, but there are now genuine factional divisions in the power structure, and if we can't affect the course of events or the outcome, we at least need to pay attention to what the hell's going on.
And not retire into our little computer corners tapping on our keyboards and muttering to ourselves and sending each other what Andy Donner calls bad news porn articles about how terrible it all is.
Another reason I think I need to adjust and sharpen the focus on here is the unfortunate fact that our numbers seem to be slipping, and have been for a couple of months now.
I'm not going to get into specific statistics, although I will say that this isn't the case if everybody's just getting bored and wanted off.
We still get thousands of hits every week, but there is a definite and noticeable downturn.
And while a lot of it may be just normal fluctuations of some kind due to whatever inscrutable laws govern these things, it's enough to be worrying.
I have to at least look at the possibility that some of that may be my fault, in the show's content, in how it's presented, so forth and so on.
I've been thinking about it, and I've spoken to some of you about it as well, and here are my thoughts at this point in time.
First off, I'm not going to deny that for some months now, I haven't been quite at the top of my game.
For a variety of reasons, for the past several months, a lot of things have been happening here in the real world I'm forced to live in along with the rest of you.
As encapsulated in my, by now, tedious phrase, something has come up.
A lot of things have been coming up lately, matters that devour my time like a prairie fire and which often require my physical presence on Mondays and Tuesdays somewhere other than sitting behind this computer working on the show.
The result is that on too many occasions recently I've just slapped something together so I can get it uploaded and then move on to deal with the other stuff.
This is not an excuse.
It is an explanation if you get the difference.
Now, we haven't had a call-in show for almost six weeks now, largely because the guy who handles the tech editing for that show has been ill.
I'm calling for one right now on the night of Thursday, November the 19th, from 5 o 'clock p.m. to 6.30 p.m. Pacific Time.
And you people on the Northwest Revolution list will be duly notified of the topic.
I'm just going to have to make the decision that these interruptions stop, or at least get ignored for a bit, and all these other people and situations are just going to have to go on the back burner while I prioritize the show, period, end of story.
I also think I need to tweak the content.
I think we've had some really good and interesting stuff on over the summer and into the fall, from my point of view anyway, but then my viewpoint may not be our listenership's viewpoint.
I sometimes have difficulty recalling that I am trying to reach a younger white demographic born after about 1980 that does not share my particular educational and cultural background, and I suspect at times I come across as too codgerish and Grandpa Simpson-like.
I'll try to rein that in and see if we can't get those numbers back up.
One feature we haven't had on here for quite a while, and one I keep getting requests for, is that old favorite Ki custode ipsos custodes.
Who Guards the Guardians?
And this week, once again, it's the boys and girls of the United States Secret Service.
Come on down!
There's a man who leads a life of danger Everyone he meets, he stays a stranger Read every move he makes Another chance he takes The
first Secret Service story of the week is from the Washington Post.
The Inspector General who oversees the Secret Service is expected to issue a management alert about the incident this week as early as this afternoon.
That formal designation indicates investigators have found a problem so urgent or sweeping that it requires swift attention from senior management.
The management alert stems from a routine check this August of alarms and communication equipment at facilities protected by the Secret Service.
In the wake of radio failures when a fence jumper got inside the White House in September 2014, well actually he got into the White House because some little female Secret Service agent who was about 90 pounds dripping wet tried to stop him and he basically picked her up and threw her aside like a rag doll.
Anyway, auditors with the Department of Homeland Security's Office of the Inspector General rode around to various sites with Secret Service staff.
They found one officer at an embassy post and another stationed at the White House complex who appeared to be asleep while on duty.
Well, hey, I imagine trying to protect Barry and his hoe from the consequences of their policies is enough to exhaust anybody, especially since the scuttlebud is that these two primates are, if possible, even more rude and abusive and insulting to their Secret Service details than Bill and Hillary were, and that's saying something.
Either that or it's all those late nights at the party houses, like the ones at Martha's Vineyard and elsewhere, that the agents routinely trash in orgies of drunken misbehavior on the Obama's many vacations.
But the latest embarrassment for the spooks with the earpieces came just a week ago when a 37-year-old Secret Service agent from Maryland named Lee Robert Moore whose photograph reveals him to be white, I'm sorry to say, was arrested for sending obscene images and texts to someone he thought was an underage girl of 14, sometimes doing it while on duty at the White House.
I suppose Agent Moore figured that if Huma's husband, Anthony Weiner, could get away with sending pictures of his Johnson bar to total strangers, why couldn't he?
Agent Moore apparently forgot that A. he's not Jewish, and B. he's not a congressman.
And C. His ostensible wife, if he has one, isn't the Hildebeest's lesbian lover.
He's just not connected at all for someone in a Democratic administration.
Moore has been charged in Delaware on state charges of sexual solicitation of a child under 18 and providing obscene material to a person under 18. He is charged separately in federal court with attempted transfer of obscene material to a minor.
Moore was caught in an undercover online sex sting by Delaware State Police.
I'll bet those Delaware cops were hosting a few beers in celebration that night.
One thing you see on TV and in the movies is correct.
Local police loathe and despise federal agents of all kinds.
That one time they tried to rouse me back in 2008 because of some of my more pointed criticism of Obama on one of my blogs, they sent one lone Astoria, Oregon police officer to my door first before coming up themselves to talk to me.
The cop was fairly cool, young white man.
He said the Secret Service wanted to talk to me, but they'd sent him in first to make sure I wasn't a quote-unquote crazy militia guy with an apartment full of guns and explosives.
I told him, no, I'm not, but suppose I had been.
They sent you up here all alone to take on a possibly heavily armed maniac?
The cop kind of chuckled and told me, yeah, that fact had not escaped his notice.
When they finally did show up, about four days later, They sent some little girl who was so short as to be almost a munchkin, for all I know, maybe the same one that got thrown aside by that nut job at the White House last September, some Mexican, and a third individual I never got a look at because he hid in the stairwell.
I could only see his shadow in his shoes.
The conversation lasted about 30 seconds, which is pretty much how long these things should always last.
I asked them if they had a warrant.
They said no.
I told them get one and close the door.
That, by the by, is a textbook case of how any contact with these people should be handled.
If they have a warrant, they won't bother to knock.
They'll just kick in the door and throw things around while screaming threats at the top of their lungs.
Anyway, getting back to our Randy Secret Service agent, who likes him young.
According to a complaint unsealed in federal court Thursday, Moore often engaged in online chats while on duty at the White House, once asking an undercover officer who he thought was a 14-year-old girl to send him something quote-unquote Exciting on a day when he was checking IDs for a building entrance and complained that quote-unquote work sucks today.
Moore reached out in August to an undercover detective posing as a 14-year-old girl on the social media application Meet24.
They subsequently agreed to communicate using the social media app KIK, which allows the exchange of images and videos.
I quote, Moore soon moved the chat's sexual, Detective Kevin McKay wrote in an affidavit.
He stated he wanted to travel to Delaware and meet in person for sex.
Moore made it clear that he knew I was a 14-year-old girl.
The affidavit, as well as the federal complaint, go on to describe graphic communications that Moore allegedly had with undercover officers, including sending them a picture of his erect penis.
Okay, Secret Service aside, the first thing I have to ask is why on earth any man in his right mind would do such a thing, other than a Jewish congressman, obviously?
How could any man think that that would attract any woman at all, never mind a 14-year-old?
Okay, I concede my own track record with understanding the female mind isn't that great, but still, I just don't get it.
Why would he think that?
Secondly, there's something else that just mystifies me about this.
Now, this man was a highly trained law enforcement officer in one of the most specialized police agencies in the world.
One of the requirements to join the Secret Service is that you need a college degree.
For the past 20 years, ever since the creation of the internet, time after time, assorted sexual perverts of every description have been hooked and reeled in by this very kind of sting operation, with extensive publicity and media coverage.
There has been massive publicity down through the years about exactly this kind of scam.
And even if you assume that sex deviants aren't exactly the sharpest knives in the drawer, and they think with other organs besides their brains, how in God's name could this guy more be that bloody, bird-brained, stupid to fall for something like this?
The guy must be dumb as a bag of hammers, college degree or not.
And this is who they've got protecting the president in the White House?
Secret Agent Man Secret Agent Man They've given you a number All they've taken away your name Secret Agent Man you you
This is Johnny Rebel singing about reparations.
There you go again, talking about reparations.
There you go again, talking about something else free.
There you go again, talking about reparations.
you Well, listen to me, nigger, you ain't getting nothing from me.
You say all your ancestors were slaves, and that's the reason that you ought to get paid.
You want something for nothing, you monkeys are all the same.
You're putting all of the blame on whites, we violated your civil rights, but your civil rights proving is nothing but a shakedown game.
There you go again, talking about reparations.
There you go again, talking about something else free.
There you go again, talking about reparations.
Well, listen to me, nigger, you ain't getting nothing from me.
There ain't a slave still living today, so tell me why I Where the monkeys and the baboons roam.
And if you ain't satisfied, that's exactly what you ought to do.
Hey, there you go again, talking about reparations.
There you go again, talking about something else free.
There you go again, talking about reparations.
Well, listen to me, nigger.
You ain't gettin' nothin' from me We don't owe you a damn thing Man, you gotta be out of your mind So take your reparations And stick 'em where the sun don't shine Hey,
there you go again Talkin' 'bout reparations There you go again Talkin' 'bout somethin' else Well, listen to me, nigger, you ain't gettin' nothin' from me.
We don't owe you a damn thing.
Hey, you gotta be out of your mind.
So take your reparations and stick 'em where the sun don't shine.
Hey, there you go again, talking about reparations.
There you go again, talking about something else free.
There you go again, talking about reparations.
Well, listen to me, nigger, you ain't getting nothing from me.
I said, listen to me, nigger, you ain't getting nothing from me.
I said, listen to me.
This is a speech that was made damn near 50 years ago in the summer of 1968 in, I believe, Toronto, Canada.
Now the reason I'm playing this for you is because, again, like I said last week, Revelo P. Oliver is a name that you should know.
He is part of our movement's past.
One of the better parts, he was a professor of classics at the University of Illinois at Urbana, and he was, in many respects, one of the greatest racial intellectuals and philosophers of the 20th century.
Look him up, find out about him, find his writings on the web, they're there, and let him inspire you, as he inspired a whole generation of us.
Now we may be certain that the United States will not become a huge Haiti.
Its territory is too valuable and it is covetous.
If the Americans continue to submit to the world government that it now effectively rules us in all but name and a few formalities, then certainly after the savages have done the work for which they have been trained, After the Occidental population of the United States has been mongrelized,
defiled, and beaten down to the level of cringing and mindless animals, fit only to work for their masters with a resignation of horses and oxen, then world government will surely dispose of the savages, for which it will have no further use.
That's what one should expect.
Many years ago, I read about a murder ingeniously committed in the early years of this century.
A man decided to kill his business.
So he bought a good dog, trained it to bite on command, and invited his partner for dinner.
Just before the partner arrived, he coated the dog's teeth with a serum containing the infection of rabies.
And when the partner entered the house, the dog on command bit him.
Then the murderer shot his dog.
We may be sure that world government will shoot its dog after the dog has served his purpose, but that will not do us any good.
We will be dead.
Or at least wish we were.
The other possibility, of course, is that white Americans will at long last try to defend themselves, and even to recover their independence.
That will cost them blood and tears.
Much blood and many tears.
But in the past, certainly, our race was willing to fight for survival.
And it may therefore again prefer to fight rather than to submit to ignominious slavery and whimpering extinction.
Our problem then is to calculate the probability that the Occidentals and the United States will try to resist while they still have a chance of success, and the probability that their resistance will be effective and ultimately successful.
That is our problem.
I regret that I do not know the answer.
I cannot measure the latent forces that may still be present in the minds and souls of Americans.
And without measurement of all the vectors, I cannot compute either the direction or the velocity of the resulting movement.
All that I can do now is to tell you what I regard as the critical vector.
If the force along it that is released is great, we may win.
If it is small, there is very little hope for us.
I suggest that this is the aspect of the situation that you should most carefully watch for developments, if you want to see how far...
Now it is customary in patriotic and conservative meetings to speak about the enemy.
There are, of course, the two general approaches.
The first is that which attempts to provide the audience with two-thirds of the piece of the jigsaw puzzle, speaking endlessly about the horrors of Bolshevism and the cunning of Bolsheviks.
And what is said is, of course, both frightening and true.
That would make the evil begin with Karl Marx and the people of the mystery how such a wretched degenerate could possibly have influenced the history of the world.
That is, of course, a very favorite approach.
When the little hirelings of the liberal press and radio try to ridicule us, they say that we expect to find a communist under every bed.
They'd be quite right to laugh at us if we did anything so ridiculous.
The space under the beds these days is all occupied by staunch conservatives and patriots who are afraid to look out and see who is in the room.
There are, of course, more thorough and more advanced treatments of the problem.
But they again concentrate our attention on the phenomenal cunning and satanic evil of our enemies.
I agree that they must be almost infinitely evil and wicked in terms of the morality of Western man.
But I cannot avoid the reflection that while rabbits undoubtedly believe that wolves are extremely wicked, wolves do not share that opinion.
There is, of course, a certain comfort in blaming the enemy for all our losses and all our defeats.
That cannot be the whole story.
It takes only one side to start a war, but it takes two sides to make a victory for one.
Although I certainly applaud and endorse every effort to expose and denounce our enemies, I think that we foredoom ourselves to failure if we do not once in a while undertake the more embarrassing and painful task of determining what weaknesses in ourselves made their success possible.
If, as we say, They have constantly deluded and deceived us.
We are no doubt entitled to speak harshly of them and even to curse them.
But we'd better also be ashamed of ourselves that we were so easily and so frequently and so constantly deluded and deceived.
We men of the West are a peculiar people, basically unlike all other races in our instincts.
Our predilections and our mode of thinking.
And we shall have to study ourselves very carefully.
We intend to survive on this overcrowded planet.
One of our most remarkable and disastrous peculiarities, a weakness found to that extent in no other race, is our willful and perverse disregard of even the most obvious facts about the great and unalterable differences between races.
It is, I fear, an inveterate failing of ours.
If you wish to study a fairly early and very good example of its consequences, consider what happened to the Aryans who invaded and conquered India, only to disappear and be absorbed in a vast and fantastically prolific mass of mongrels.
An entirely different approach, but yet a very interesting contribution to our thinking on that subject.
In a connection that is less well known, would be a consideration of the Greek world.
And for that, I would recommend a critical, very critical reading of the recent book by Michael Astour, Heleno Semitica, published in Leiden two years ago.
Now, our delusions on the subject of race spring partly from a curious will to believe that others are like ourselves.
And partly from a superficial and unthinking observation of other peoples.
For one thing, we seem invariably to succumb to the flattery of imitation.
The capacity for imitating behavior is common not only to all human beings, but to all anthropoids.
As we know from the proverbial expression, monkey see, monkey do.
An ape's capacity to imitate is limited, of course, by its inability to speak, but within that limit it is fairly good.
Some years ago I saw, and perhaps you did also, a chimpanzee who gave on the stage recognizable imitation of the characteristic movements and gestures of some comedians that were then well known in the cinema.
Among human beings, the capacity for imitation is lowest among the Australoids.
Who are the lowest existing form of human life?
We possess it to a considerable degree.
The capacity for imitation and deceit is found in the highest degree among the two most talented Oriental peoples, the Jews and the Japanese, whose abilities in such matters far surpass our own.
But all races can imitate us well enough to deceive careless observers.
If they dress in our clothes, observe our social conventions, And speak our language, using the phrases and clichés which, as they can learn from observation, please us.
The members of any other race can imitate us so plausibly that we imagine that they have been converted to our mentality and to our conception of life.
And any shortcomings that we may notice in the performance, we generously overlook or regard as endearing, naive tape.
The capacity for imitation possessed by at least the more intelligent savages has deceived us time after time.
The British are as gullible as we are, and hundreds and hundreds of times they gave scholarships to Congoloids from Basutoland, or Kenya, or Nigeria, or one of their other possessions, and the result was generally the same.
With the money and tutoring given him, the savage bought a good wardrobe, attended an English school, Learned to play soccer.
Went to Oxford and wrote a charming essay on Wordsworth or on Gresham's Law.
Copulated with half-witted English females who thought themselves intellectual because they were as undiscriminating as the very lowest class of prostitutes.
And then, when the savage got tired of living on English generosity and carrying on the pretense, he went home.
And, if he thought himself safely beyond the reach of his imperialistic oppressors, he had a well-roasted baby served up to him as a delicacy, of which he had long been deprived by the stupid prejudices of the bigoted British.
But what most effectively clouded our minds was a misconception long inherent in our religion.
For centuries we have labored under the strange delusion that Western Christianity was something that could be exported.
And only recent events have at last made it obvious how vain and futile were the labors and zeal of our devoted missionaries.
When Cortes and his small but valiant band of iron men conquered the teeming empire of the Aztecs, he was immediately followed by a train of earnest missionaries, chiefly Franciscans, who began to preach the gospel to the natives and soon sent home, with innocent enthusiasm, glowing accounts of the conversions they had effected.
You can feel their sincerity and their joy in the pages of Father Sagoon, Father Torquemada, and many others.
For their sake, I am glad that the poor Franciscans never suspected how small a part they had played in the religious conversions that gave them such joy.
Far, far more effective than their sermons and their book had been the Spanish canon that breached and shattered the Aztec defenses.
And the ruthless Spanish soldiers who slew the Aztec priests at their own altars and toppled the Aztec titles from the sacrificial pyramids.
The Aztecs, Toltecs, and others accepted Christianity not because their hearts were touched by alien and incomprehensible doctrines of love and mercy, but because it was the religion of the white man whose bronze cannon and nail-clad warriors were invincible.
That was early in the 16th century, and we of the West have gone on repeating that fond mistake ever since.
As missionaries whom we sent to all parts of the world, wrote home with innocent satisfaction glowing accounts of the number of hearts that they had won for Christ.
And it was only after the international conspiracy's campaign of anti-colonialism really got underway that most of us realized that what had won all those hearts was primarily the discipline of British regiments and the manifest power of the white man.
On ashore in Africa, for example, missionaries eager to win souls ventured to land alone.
And the natives, after torturing them to death for a good laugh, ate them.
Cooked or raw, according to the local cuisine.
Usually, a few weeks or a few months later, a British cruiser hoved two offshore, lobbed half a dozen 4.5 shells into the native village, and if not pressed for time, perhaps landed half a company of Marines to beat the bushes and drag out a dozen or so savages to hang on convenient trees.
Consequently, the tribe, if not very obtuse, Took the hint and respected the next bevy of missionaries as somehow representing the god of thunder and lightning.
And if the men of God distributed enough free rice and medical care with their sermons, they were able to make converts.
They could teach a ritual and perhaps inculcate a superstition that had some superficial resemblance to their religion, but as for teaching the spiritual substance of Christianity...
They might as well have followed the example of St. Francis and delivered sermons to the birds.
Although it is true that in some places in the former colonial possessions missionaries are still tolerated if they pay well, we have at last learned that the Gospel follows the British regiments and the white man's ignominious and insane retreat from the world that was his.
Our prolonged misunderstanding has been magnified by another possibly fatal weakness of ours, our strange toleration of the do-gooder, and our incredible obtuseness in never asking against whom he is doing good.
For it is unfortunately true that fully 80% of all those high-sounding projects of uplift and social justice Are motivated not by concern for the supposed beneficiaries, but by greed or malice.
But we never ask.
That, incidentally, is why we have so many intellectuals battening upon us.
They have discovered the safest and most profitable of all rackets.
An intellectual, in the modern sense of the word, is distinguished by two talents.
A glimps proficiency with words, and very sensitive nostrils.
He can smell a twenty dollar bill in your pocket a block away, and within two minutes after that delicious aroma has reached his nostrils, the ideals are drooling down his jaw.
You all know the jargon: the underprivileged, the equality of opportunity, the culturally deprived, underdeveloped patience, the emerging people, broaderhood, and the like.
Now as you listen to his sing song, the chances are you won't even notice his hand as it goes into your pocket.
Now we may be rich enough to be suckers, but what we cannot afford are the more elaborate kinds of do-gooding that are inspired by malice and hatred.
But yet we tolerate them with a masochism that is simply suicidal.
We have accepted an incredible inversion of values to the point that we have declared ourselves to be an inferior species, fit only to be enslaved, beaten, and butchered at the whim of our masters.
That is what the proposition amounts to, although, of course, it is daubed over with the viscid slobber of humanitarian drivel devised by our enemies and mindlessly multiplied by our own sniveling sentimentalists and masochists.
But it is not a particularly new thing.
If I had time, I would direct your attention in some detail to a vast and irreparable calamity brought on the United States in the last century by a tiny group of vociferous and crazed fanatics, the abolitionists, who forced upon the South its tragic war for independence.
I am not, of course, defending slavery as an institution.
I believe that Jefferson and Lincoln were right in regarding it as an institution that was pernicious for quite rational reasons.
Of which the first was that it maintained on our soil millions of persons of a race radically different from our own, and by our standards, hopelessly inferior.
And second, that it resulted in the production of mongrels, pitiable creatures torn apart by the incompatible instincts they had inherited.
As you know...
It was the firm purpose of Abraham Lincoln to have all the Negroes either returned to Africa, or perhaps, in the interest of economy, exported to Central America.
But the abolitionists were not rational.
They were, I am sorry to say, most of them Americans, including such persons as Wendell Phillips, Professor Eliezer Wright, and, of course, hysterical females, such as Lydia Child and Harriet Beecher Stowe.
Their leader was William Lloyd Garrison, who was an American, too.
Although he was financed by Isaac Knapp and other Jews.
They were a tiny group, despised by St. Americans North and South, but they ratted and raved until they got their way.
They began to agitate in 1840 for dissolution of the American Union and its division by secession into two countries.
And after 20 years of ratting, they induced the states of the South to take their proposal seriously.
It is most instructive to read the abolitionists.
They spout quotations from the Bible, and they babble about human rights and equality, but they do not completely conceal their real aims, their real animus, and inspirations.
Their venom is directed against the plantation owners of the South, most of whom were ladies and gentlemen.
The abolitionists had in their minds a picture, partly correct.
Of the southern landowner as a man superior to themselves in education, culture, and humanity.
And for that, they hated him implacably.
They also had in their feverish minds a picture, totally false, of the planter as a man of unbounded wealth and leisure, who spent his life lolling on a wide veranda and sipping mint juleps, and they envied him passionately.
They had a picture equally false of the southern lady as one who spent her days in fairy-like ease, waited on hand and foot by obsequious slaves.
And they also had a picture largely correct of southern ladies as the objects of a chivalrous respect by men.
It was seldom accorded in the North.
And so they yearned to humiliate and destroy the ladies of the South.
That was the real inspiration of their frantic and frenetic do-gooding.
You can take the measure of what has happened to our national mentality by just remembering the name of that distinguished horse thief and homicidal maniac, John Brown, who, financed by a conspiratorial group that called themselves the Secret Six, was sent into the South to start a slave revolt.
Everyone knows and admits that his purpose was to get all the white women of the South raped and butchered, and to get all the white men of the South barbarously mutilated and butchered.
But what does that make of him in contemporary opinion?
Why, he was a champion of human rights, a martyr of freedom, and all that.
He wanted to butcher, yes, but he wanted to butcher white men and women.
That is to say, white swine like ourselves, as we wallow in ecstasies of self-abasement and self-hatred.
That suffices to make him admirable, to make him dull bull.
And so we are told, his soul goes marching on, over the red-hot coals, I hope.
You know, I suppose I should have played this a few weeks ago at our Halloween music special.
This is an old Irish murder ballad called Well Below the Valley, and it's done by an old group from the 70s and 80s called Plancksty.
Plancksty
A gentleman was passing by, he asked for a drink as he got right at the well below the valley, oh.
Green grows the lily, oh, right among the bushes, oh.
Me compass full up to the brim, if I were to stoop I might fall in at the well below the valley, oh.
Green grows the lily, oh.
Right among the bushes, ow.
If your true love was passing by, you'd fill him the drink as he got dry at the well below the valley, ow.
Green glows the lily, ow.
Right among the bushes, ow.
She swore be grass, she swore be corn, that her true love had never been born at the well below the valley-o.
Green grow as the lily-o, right among the bushes-o.
He said, young lady, you're swearing wrong for six fine children.
You had born at the well below the valley, O. Green girl knows the lily, O. Right among the bushes, O. I'm sorry.
If you be a man of noble fame, you'll tell to me the father of them at the well below the valley-o.
Green grow's the lily-o, right among the bushes-o.
There's two of them by your Uncle Dan at the well below the valley-o.
Green grows the lily, oh, right among the bushes, oh.
And on there to be your brun there, John at the well below the valley, oh.
Green grows the lily, oh, right among the bushes, oh.
And on there to be your fan there, dear, at the well below the valley, oh.
Green garages, the lily arrow If you be a man of noble steam, you'll tell to me what had happened to them at the well below the valley-o.
Green girl knows the lily-o.
Right among the bushes all.
There's two buried neath the stable door At the well below the valley o 'er Krieger o's the lily o 'er Right among the bushes o 'er Another two near the kitchen door At the well below the valley o 'er Krieger o's the lily o 'er Right among the bushes o 'er Another
to buried beneath the well, at the well below the valley.
Green grows the lily, right among the bushes.
If you be a man of noble fame, you'll tell to me what will happen.
At the well below the valley, oh Green grows the lily, oh Right among the bushes, oh You'll be seven years a-ringing a bell At the well below the
valley, oh Green grows the lily, oh Right among the bushes, oh You'll be seven more a-porting in hell At the well below the valley, oh Green grows the lily, oh Right among the bushes, oh I'll be seven years a-ringing a bell
It'll be seven years a-ringing a bell, but the Lord above me save me soul From porting in hell at the well below the valley-o.
Green rose the lily-o, right among the bushes-o.
Green rose the lily-o, right among the bushes-o.
you you I get a lot of questions regarding the future economy of the Northwest Republic and how we're going to build an autarkic economy free of what's basically the Rothschild system of usury-based banking.
Now, this generally calls for a lot of crystal ball gazing on my part, but I don't mind, because unlike so many issues, this is something that we do need to be thinking about before we achieve independence, and all of a sudden we find ourselves staring around saying, oh, what the hell do we do now?
Last week, when I was talking about all those medieval Jews who got dropped down the well in 13th century Norwich, I mentioned that the Jews of early medieval England were given control of the crude financial system of the time by the king in order to act as loan sharks and tax collectors.
Some years ago, I wrote a lengthy article entitled 14th Century Economics Lesson.
Wherein I explain how the usury system first began, and how it was for a time replaced by a more productive and Aryan form of banking and finance during the late Middle Ages and the Renaissance.
I'm not going to sit here and just read out that article, but as a foundation for any serious economic discussion, we need to know this was done in the past.
So, let me give you a quick Cliff Notes version.
Before the Northwest Republic or any other new white ethnostate can formulate any solution for the economic woes of capitalist society, We must first understand the way that our present form of user-regenerated finance capitalism arose in the past.
This is not only a complex subject, but it's usually pretty boring.
Bear with me, I'll just try to hit the highlights.
First off, you need to understand that although Karl Marx was full of horse dung, he did correctly analyze and articulate certain true and vitally important things about the nature of capitalism itself and how capitalism works.
It's just his solutions that were insane.
Capitalism is utterly dependent on the exploitation of human beings for their labor, and in order to function, they have to reinvent man as a commodity, an economic unit of production and consumption.
His labor has to be assigned value in X amount, whatever that might be.
This dehumanizing concept has proven one of the most destructive aspects of the Jewish incursion into Western civilization.
Jewish communism does the same thing, of course, reduce man to a simple unit of economic production and consumption, but capitalism came first.
Secondly, capitalism is dependent for the generation of capital not only on profit, but on the highly cost-effective form of profit known as usury, the collection of interest on loaned money.
Long recognized as the ultimate tool of Jewish power, usury was forbidden by the church for centuries to Christians, which used to be pretty much the same thing as saying Aryans.
Only Jews were allowed to practice it.
Modern-day banks would have you believe that the economy is entirely dependent on the charging of interest, but that's BS.
The generation of non-production-related profit through interest is actually a fairly recent development in man's economic history.
So, how did the economy work in the days before the usury system became dominant?
Now, in that article I mentioned that I'm now kind of paraphrasing, I made a case study out of the rise and fall of the great Italian banking houses during the Middle Ages, which was the first true international banking system.
Okay, let's say we're in Venice, a great trading city about the year 1396.
Now, usury is forbidden to everybody except the Jews, and their interest rates are as high as 50%, so no one but a drunk or a madman deals with them.
Remember Shakespeare's play about the Jews, The Merchant of Venice?
And that's an example of the kind of trouble you could get in.
Jewish moneylenders might literally ask for a pound of flesh.
Jewish usurers, such as the early Rothschilds, existed on interest mostly off the very poor as pawnbrokers.
In fact, in German, Rothschild means red shield, which was an early medieval version of the pawnbroker's sign, this being before the three balls of today came in.
Now, much like a mob loan shark, these Jews were never really interested in getting the principal of their loan back.
They just wanted to keep on collecting the vigorous, the interest, forever and a day.
I believe there's a new expression we've come up with for this phenomenon these days.
It's called rent-seeking, the desire to collect a monthly check for doing nothing, which is a very common form of subsistence in modern society among all classes of people, from welfare niggers on up.
Let's get back to Venice in 1396.
The medieval church even established a series of interest-free co-op religious pawn shops to try and protect the poor from the Jewish bloodsuckers.
But if you're a merchant, you still have to capitalize your ventures, and a pawnbroker obviously isn't going to cut it, so how do you do it?
Let's say you want to send a ship to Constantinople full of Italian goodies, cloth and worked metal goods and glassware, wool, so forth and so on.
You want to bring back the same ship.
Full of Oriental goodies like spices, mahogany, Turkish rugs, opium, so forth and so on.
That is real value.
You're going to be making something, or trading something, or you're going to be putting something into the Venetian economy, and the venture will put money into the pockets of ordinary people all along the way.
So, that's the first thing to remember, that what you're doing has an actual physical existence and actual value.
It's not just shuffling papers like on a stock exchange.
We will assign an arbitrary cost to this venture of 10,000 gold florins.
You believe that the profit from the sale of your goods in Constantinople and the resale of their goods in Venice will yield 20,000 florins.
So where do you get the money?
You can put up the entire 10 grand yourself if you're filthy rich, and many of the wealthiest merchant adventurers do, as well as putting up their lives.
For many of these guys aren't just businessmen.
They're sea captains and explorers and occasional pirates, and they command their own vessels.
They can opt to take all the risk, including the risk of the ship sinking or getting captured by pirates, and take all the profit.
Or they can look for investors to share the risk.
Since our hypothetical merchant is a good Christian who doesn't want to deal with heaves and a good businessman who doesn't want to pay half his profit to literally a Shylock, he goes to one or more of the great Lombard banking houses, the Bardi, the Pazzi, the Stratzi, the Albizzi, or those new kids on the block, the Medici.
These banks are centered mostly in Florence or Siena, but they have branches all over Europe in the days when the first Rothschilds were still haggling with peasants over the pawn of their wooden shoes for a few pfennig.
Our merchant adventurer goes to the banks, most likely several of them, because they'll be more likely to back him if their individual exposure is less.
He explains his venture.
He shows them the ship so they know it's a stout, seaworthy vessel.
He lets them know that he'll be captaining the voyage himself.
And he points out that he's got a good track record of a dozen prosperous expeditions prior to this.
He looks good to the Lombards, and so they lend him the dough.
The total outlay for this project is 10 grand in gold florins.
The merchant himself will put up 4,000 florins, or 40%.
The Bardi, the Stratzi, and the Medici banks will put up 2,000 each.
In legitimate finance, there is return on investment, but there are no quick killings or hit-and-runs on the stock market kind of things.
The investors understand that they will have to wait one year for the ship's return to find out how they did.
This is the origin of the old expression, when my ship comes in.
If everything goes according to plan, the venture will bring 20,000 gold florins, thus recouping everyone's initial investment and leaving 10 grand profit.
The merchant will take 4 grand of the surplus and the three banks 2 grand each.
A 100% return on their investment.
Good business.
Of course, in real life, it was all a lot more complicated than that.
For instance, in many cases, the ship's captain, if he was not the owner, would have a substantial share, and the crew would be paid not only a minimum wage, but a small share each as well.
Plus, there was taxes and overhead just like today, but you get the idea.
A rich merchant might send out ten ships a year under this system.
Three are lost, but seven of them return, leaving an overall profit and society wealthier thereby.
Now, do you note the difference between this system and Jewish usury?
The Lombard banking system was based on productivity in real goods and real things for profit, whereas the Jewish usury system is a shell game where money multiplies by itself without relation to anything in the real world.
In an Aryan financial system, money was to be earned by buying actual things of value, buying low, selling high, by making something, or building something, or undertaking risks in order to obtain something material and tangible.
Which was valuable in itself or could be converted into value.
In this example, the objective was the importation of X amount of real consumer goods, not the manipulation of numbers on a piece of paper, as in today's stock exchange or commodities market, where there's only the most tenuous connection, if any, between the arbitrary value of the paper and any real or valuable object or commodity.
If the voyage didn't succeed, the investors were out their money, and this risk element led to a high degree of caution, canniness, and ability to assess risk, as well as encourage daring and enterprise for higher profits.
The merchant princes of Renaissance Italy may have had a taste for luxurious living intrigue and poisoning one another, but they never threw money away like the present-day governments and multinationals.
They had worked and sweated and bled and killed to get it.
Another variation on this system was public works, for example the bridges over the River Arno in Florence, many of which were built by the bankers who were then allowed to collect tolls until they had recovered the expense of construction and a set profit, after which the bridges became free.
There are endless variations.
Money was lent for agriculture, to build a factory or a workshop, to build a road, whatever, but always something you could touch, feel, taste, use, or consume.
Money did not magically produce money out of nothing as it does with usury.
So, when did usury get its first foothold in the Western economy?
Basically, when the Christian ruling elite of that time, like their counterparts of the 20th century, allowed themselves to fall into Jewish habits and started going for quick and almost risk-free forms of profit.
These same lumbered bankers in their later stages started dabbling in usury, and the Jews then slid in on the coattails of the correct claim that everybody is doing it.
And within a short time, the kikes were running the whole game.
From the point of view of the lender, usury has one advantage over the productivity or venture-based system.
It eliminates risk, for the lender anyway.
But it increases risk many-fold for the borrower, who not only puts his business' own capital on the line, but sometimes everything he possesses.
The borrower signs a bond or contract, borrowing 10,000 florins and promising to pay back 15 come what may, and as collateral he gives the lender the right to seize certain property if he's unable to pay by the stated date.
The Lombard banking system was essentially a tool for the production of new wealth.
While usury is a system for transferring existing wealth into a smaller number of hands, usually Jewish.
Essentially, two things happened.
First, a lot of the Lombard banks crashed down through the years when they inevitably made too many bad decisions, creating fewer and bigger banks handling more money, led by more unscrupulous men as the Renaissance advanced.
Late Renaissance bankers and financial tycoons were often converted Jews.
Many of whom continued to practice Judaism in secret and openly favored their own people at the expense of their host nations.
Additionally, the church became corrupt and quit enforcing the anti-usury statutes, and the secular princes and dukes and whatnot got into debt to the banks and overlooked the fact that they had begun to charge interest just like the Jews.
Usury crept into our economy in stages, and it was still frowned upon even as late as the 19th century.
For example, a character in a Sherlock Holmes story, A ruined gambling nobleman who has mortgaged everything he owns and is about to lose it all is referred to as being quote-unquote in the hands of the Jews by author Arthur Conan Doyle.
That was an expression one could still get away with using as late as the 1890s.
Now, of course, we've got credit cards operating out of states like South Dakota with no banking laws to speak of who charge as much as 30% revolving interest.
It's actually cheaper to borrow money from the mob.
Organized crime's traditional vigorous or interest rate being six for five, or about 18%.
I suppose I need to stick in a third music break really quick.
I considered playing Money Makes the World Go Round from the cabaret soundtrack, but that's a little too dewy for my taste, and I imagine yours as well.
So I found this old song about money from some British rock and roll group back in the 60s.
The lead singer was some faggy-looking guy.
Mick something or other.
I wonder whatever happened to him.
The big things in an arm of a tree You can give them to the present What I
want, what I want That's what I want That's what I want That's what I want That's what I want Oh yeah, that's what I want That's what I want Money don't buy everything is true What you don't buy everything is I want Money That's what I want That's what I want That's what I want That's what I want That's
what I want That's what I want You can give everything is true You can give me such an appeal You can give me such an appeal You can give me such an appeal You can give me such an appeal Oh, yeah.
You know, you need such an ungrill But your love won't pay my bills I want mine That's what I want That's what I want That's what I want Oh, yeah.
That's what I want Yeah, give me money Yeah, yeah, I like my money That's what I want If you want me to love you That's what I want If you want me to feed you That's what I want That's what I want Oh, yeah.
That's what I want Hey, give me money Come on, baby That's what I want Yeah, yeah, I like my money If you want me to love you That's what I want If you want me to love you That's what I want That's what I want Come on, baby Give me money That's what I want That's what I want you you
Another economic question I've been asked a lot is in reference to the gold standard.
As most topics dealing with money seem to do, this also gets into the Jewish situation.
Plus d 'argent, voici les Juifs, as the French say.
Money was first invented as a substitute for barter, and for millennia consisted only of gold, silver, and occasionally copper or bronze coinage.
Eventually, as trade expanded, it became too cumbersome and dangerous to go on a trading expedition leading along mule trains loaded with gold coin.
So with the establishment of the first medieval banks, the paper bank draft was invented, allowing a merchant in London to travel to Paris carrying only a document instead of heavy bags of money so tempting to bandits do his business, deposit his profits in the parish branch of the Bardi or whoever, and then draw them out again from the London branch when he got home.
This was the first paper money, and it was specific, like a check made out to only one person.
Eventually, the Lombard and later Jewish banks began to issue what today we would call negotiable securities or debentures, bank drafts for X amount of money with no name on them, which could be used as legal tender to buy, sell, pay, and lend.
The practice of individual banks issuing their own paper money continued up until the beginning of this century.
You can see all kinds of examples in museums.
In the flourishing and expanding economy of a dynamic young America, private banks, states, cities, even railroads issued their own paper money.
But these paper notes or bills were always gold or sometimes silver certificates.
That is, if you had a $10 gold certificate from the First National Bank of Philadelphia and you took it into that bank, you had the right to get a $10 gold piece for it.
Paper money was originally intended as a convenience, not as a substitute for precious metals.
Redeemability in gold or silver had one big advantage.
It kept the money supply under control and pretty much eliminated the curse of inflation and insane interest rates.
Almost all the inflationary spirals in the past, aside from the odd catastrophe like the Black Death, have had to do with the uncontrolled issue of paper money, i.e.
the Continental Congress period, Confederate money, the Weimar period in Germany, etc.
In 1913, this country did something so stupid that it defies rational analysis even today.
We handed control of our money over to the Jews in the form of a private corporation, the Federal Reserve, every head and important official of which from 1913 to this day has been Jewish.
There is no such thing as U.S. currency, only Federal Reserve currency, which is by law the only authorized form of legal tender in this country.
It took the Jews 20 years to take us off the gold standard and free themselves of the obligation to back up their green paper with gold or silver, but they managed it, and from 1934 onward, the Jews have literally had a license to print money hand over fist.
The more paper money there is in circulation, the higher interest rates are charged, and the more impossible it becomes for young white married people to buy a home.
Basically, the cause of the inflation and the insanely high cost of everything today That's their word for America.
Well, for now, our time is up for this week's edition of Radio Free Northwest.
This program is brought to you by the Northwest Front, Post Office Box 4856, Seattle, Washington, 98194, or you can go to the party's website at www.northwestfront.org.
This is Harold Covington, and I'll see you next week.