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April 21, 2016 - Radio Free Nortwest - H.A. Covington
01:04:59
20160421_rfn
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Oh, then tell me, Sean O 'Farrell, tell me why you hurry so.
Hush, a wiggle, hush and listen, and his cheeks were all aglow.
I bear orders from the captain, get you ready quick and soon, for the bikes must be together by the rising of the moon.
By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon.
For the bikes 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, rifle, naughty, you and me.
One more roar for signal, token, whistle, up, and arching tune.
For your bike upon your shoulder by the rising of the moon.
By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon.
Switch 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 man's chest was rubbing for the blessed warming light.
The waters passed along the valleys like the man she's lonely crew.
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.
It's April the 21st, 2016.
I'm Harold Covington, and this is Radio Free Northwest.
Okay, since we're only one day past the 20th of April, there will be some Hitler in this podcast, but not much.
Some people have asked why I don't make a much bigger deal than I do about the Fuhrer's birthday, since my own National Socialism is no secret.
Couple of reasons for that.
First off, while I make no bones about the fact that I myself am a National Socialist, I know a lot of people out there aren't, and the Northwest Front is not in any way sectarian or dogmatic or representative of any dominant point of view within our tiny little movement.
It's a very similar situation to our attitude on religion.
We are a movement of blood and not faith, and to a certain degree, I kind of agree that National Socialism can be considered to be almost like a religion.
And I don't want to be seen as trying to force my own particular faith on anybody else.
The second reason is simple.
I believe that the best way to honor the Fuhrer Adolf Hitler is to follow his teachings and live up to his standards, which is something our tiny little slice of life signally fails to do.
Even back in the old days, I was never really comfortable with all this adulation of Hitler and commemoration of anniversaries and such.
Because I had a pretty good idea of what he would say about some of us and our behavior if he was still around.
And there were times when I was downright embarrassed to be associated with some of the people who claimed to revere Hitler and his memory.
Now the time for us to truly commemorate his birthday and the life and the mission on earth of Adolf Hitler is when we can look him in the eye and tell him that we are doing the very best we can.
To be the type of men and women that He wants us to be.
Until then, I think we need to mention these things, of course, April the 20th and November the 9th, but we need to do so with a respectful and somewhat subdued understatement, because we realize that we're just not measuring up.
The best way to honor our Father is to continue His work on earth.
Right, I'm recording this on the morning of April the 20th, that's Wednesday, and I have deliberately held off uploading the show until now so that I could report on the New York primary of yesterday.
First off, the news that we've all been waiting for.
Donald Trump won with about 60% of the vote, like the poll said he would.
The establishment candidate Kasich came a distant second and Ted Cruz was run into the ground.
The Hilda Beast handily defeated Bernie Sanders, which, again, was not unexpected, and that pretty much rules out any chance at all that Sanders will be able to pull off any kind of surprise and snatch the nomination away from the sea hag.
But then that was never on the cards, since the Democratic primary has always been rigged from the get-go since it's now Hillary's turn.
Hell, she and her lefty bitches started rigging the process years ago when they slid that Jewish Debbie Wasserman Schultz in as chairman of the Democratic National Committee.
I believe it's now accepted that the sea hag started lining up superdelegates right after the 2012 elections, when she was still Secretary of State.
Unlike Trump's delegates, Hillary had enough cash in that Clinton Foundation kitty so that her superdelegates have stayed bought.
Barring her getting indicted for treason and espionage through her private email server, she's got the nomination nailed, and I think by now it's pretty clear that's not going to happen.
The investigation has been going for over a year now, and the Hilda Beast hasn't even been interviewed by the FBI yet.
That article last month about how she was going to be interviewed by the director of the FBI himself, James Comey, seems to have been a hoax.
That hasn't happened yet.
Neither have the terrible trio of Hillary's inner circle been interviewed.
Not the mulatto Cheryl Mills.
Not the Jew Sidney Blumenthal.
And not her lesbian lover, Huma Abaden.
You know, the wog who was married as camouflage to the Jew congressman, Anthony Weiner?
The guy who was sending photos of his Johnson bar all across the country to women he didn't know and had never met before?
Apparently, he just picked a female name out of the air and hit sand.
Yeah, that Anthony Weiner.
Boy, talk about a vanishing act.
He is gone from the picture, let me tell you.
Can you imagine the way the media would act if any Republican had a piece of baggage like that around his neck?
But nope, as far as Chris Matthews and Rachel Maddow are concerned, Wiener is now an unperson.
Probably won't even get invited to the White House for the inaugural dinner.
I wonder what excuse they're going to give for Huma constantly spending the night at the White House.
Maybe Hillary will put her in the Lincoln bedroom.
Or maybe they'll finally come out and give each other a big slurpy French kiss at the inauguration itself.
Surprise, dumbasses!
Guess what?
We're dykes.
Forgot to mention that little detail during the campaign, you stupid losers.
Screw you.
Yeah, I know.
Probably not funny.
Or far-fetched.
And what surprises me is the amount of fraud that the Democrats felt compelled to engage in to make sure Hillary won in New York State.
A state you'd think she'd have completely sewn up ever since she carpetbagged it in 2000.
As is so often the case, we have to go to British newspapers to get the best and most accurate reportage of what's going on in our own country.
The UK Daily Mail reports that 54,000 Democratic voters in Brooklyn went missing.
I mean, that's where Hillary's headquarters is, Brooklyn.
Of course, it's also where Bernie Sanders was born, so maybe Hillary's people were just purging anybody with a Jewish name.
That is to say that they were somehow mysteriously purged from the voter rolls, and when those Democrats showed up to vote, it was, I'm sorry, sir, you're not registered.
You can't cast your ballot.
There were all kinds of other technical and logistic problems with the actual election process yesterday, mostly in New York City.
Surprise, surprise.
These problems included that perennial favorite, the non-functioning voting machine.
locked polling places where nobody could find the keys and the polls didn't open until noon.
People mysteriously disappearing from the voter rolls are being registered incorrectly in other precincts and told to drive across town to a different polling In some cases in New York, such as Harlem, apparently they still use paper ballots.
Which, in a neighborhood like Harlem, I assume they do because most of the immigrant population is too functionally illiterate and stumble-bombed to understand the whole concept of a voting machine, and so kindly Democratic precinct captains, large D, introduce our new fellow Americans to the joys of democracy, small d, by generously filling out and casting their ballots for them, which also, of course, ensures that they vote the right way.
By the way, Harlem is one of those formerly predominantly black neighborhoods where the Spics have pretty much run the niggers out.
I gather it's almost all Hispanic now.
I also hear that they're starting to have a quote-unquote problem with white gentrifiers moving in.
Oddly enough, in another 10 or 15 years, Harlem may be one of the most chic neighborhoods for all the white and Jewish hipsters in New York.
Anyway, Trump got almost all of the delegates in New York, and Cruz apparently got zero, zilch, zip.
And so that's put Trump for the first time within shouting distance of the necessary 1,237 delegates.
There are still some more primaries to come, the biggest being Pennsylvania.
There's also Indiana, and a few more, Kentucky, and the gigantic California in June, which on the Democrat side will put Hillary utterly over the top if Sanders hasn't conceded by then.
Now, on the Republican side, we need to watch for extreme rhino, i.e.
Republican establishment and Ted Cruz skullduggery in Pennsylvania and Indiana and California and maybe Kentucky and maybe some attempts by Cruz to run off with more delegates without the little formality of actually voting like he did in Colorado and Wyoming.
He might be able to pull that in some of those sparsely populated western states, the Dakotas, whatever.
I still think that the GOP establishment, the Rockefeller Republicans, The country club Republicans, as we used to call them, are going to find some way to rob Trump with a nomination at the convention in Cleveland in July.
But this primary season is such a rollercoaster that I'm going to keep my long-distance predictions to a minimum.
This whole ballgame could change if Hillary does get indicted for treason, or Trump is indeed shot down by a mysterious lone gunman.
I say again, all of this is more fun than a barrel of monkeys to watch.
We're going to do what they say can't be done.
We've got a long way to go, and it's a short time to get there.
I'm westbound just like a bandit run.
If you put hard on the belt, some will remind them brakes.
Let it all hang out, cause we got a hundred, baby.
Greetings, comrades.
This is the trucker coming at you from Texas.
For the last few weeks, I've been running back and forth across the southern part of the country, getting to see a lot more of this neck of the woods than I'm used to.
Earlier in this outing, I did manage to make it up north, but I've been just stuck down here for the past, like, three weeks running back and forth between, like, California and Georgia and Florida and stuff like that.
Not overly excited about it.
Yes, you guys do have some pretty country down here.
A little bit warm for my likings.
But be glad to, next week, get back up there to the northwest for some time off.
Do a few things around the house and all that.
But for your scouting trip, you might want to go and like me.
Say, plan a ground vacation and come out here to the homeland.
We do have interesting things that go on out here that might not be as big and exciting as, like, going down to Disney World, Disneyland, Vegas, or something along that lines.
But, I mean, we do have water parks up here with amusement park, wild waves there in the Federal Way area.
In between Seattle and Tacoma.
We've got the Seafair weekend where the hydroplane races around Lake Washington.
Blue Angels usually show up and do an air show over the lake in intermission for the races.
Portland has got the Rose Festival.
The Navy usually comes to town for both those events.
We've got Silverwood.
I haven't been to that one before, but I guess that's a pretty big amusement park and water deal up here in the Northwest.
Probably not as big as Six Flags, some of the Six Flags ones that are around, but hey, it's something to think about.
For those of you who like to bicycle...
They've got an old railroad line with tunnels and stuff that has been shut down and redirected to a different area.
And we go ahead and start up the top of Lookout Pass, and it's pretty much downhill all the way down to Wallace, Idaho, where they have the last traffic light to be put to rest on the Eisenhower Interstate Freeway System.
It was there in Wallace, so you can visit that.
They've got silver mines there.
They've got a gold mine right outside Kellogg, between Wallace and Kellogg.
You've got ghost towns there in Montana that you can go and hit if you're interested in that kind of stuff.
I mean, we've got different stuff around this neck of the woods, so, hey, you might want to go and indulge in some of that while you're out here on your scouting trip.
Just a few thoughts for you all to think about, to plan for your scouting trip, and things to do other than just look at the property and stuff, although that is the most important thing, is figuring out which area you want to live in, whether it be the...
The wetter side of the homeland on the west side of the Cascades or the drier, cooler side on the east side of the Cascades or up there in the Rockies.
So, over there in northern Idaho and Montana.
All pretty country.
If you're into hunting, well, there's a lot of hunting to be found up here in this neck of the woods, too.
Western Washington has got a lot of fishing to do.
That kind of thing.
So, hey.
Give it a whirl.
Think about it.
And we hope to see you out here in the homeland soon.
All right, this is the trucker signing off from Texas.
All right.
This is Redneck 28. Punch
and smell were on the run from the carpet beggars' law.
But then from all around, victors' evil lies.
Put a ransom on their heads for them all to die.
They were high-clothes, never by to the moon.
They're so awesome friends in there.
I thought nobody to play That's all they wanted to decide they were true When the war was finally done They never dropped their southern flags Barney hunters everywhere Wanted them all dead It was an
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Thank you.
Thank you.
Good evening, comrades.
Tonight I'm going to be discussing the Holy Book of Adolf Hitler, and this is by James Battersby.
It was published in England in the early 50s, and it was published by the German World Church.
The writer states that Aryan society has always been one of socialism and the common interests, and the writer places Hitler in a long line of German cultural movements.
Now, this argument is most strongly stated in terms of cultural romanticism and race science.
National socialism is declared to be a worldview and a religion, and it comes to bring order, and it's immune to going down with the rotten system which is about to collapse.
The major goal of this text is a declaration of a new world order.
In Europe...
This new order will be realized by a Nordic-Celtic-Slavic alliance.
Europe's capital will be Berlin, and Eastern Europe will be a farming area.
Britain is divided into four sub-states, semi-autonomous.
On a global scale, Germany, Russia, India, China, and Japan will play a prominent role in a global peace accord, with India bridging the gap between East and West.
There'll be nine spheres of influence in seven blocs, all economically self-supporting, and one leader will be chosen from the various continental groups represented.
The author asserts that Europe will be led by Germany, and the author also believes that all leaders will be Nordic.
The most influential countries will be Germany, Russia, and Japan.
Thus, in this book, the Japanese are evidently reported to retain a kind of honorary Aryan status that they had during the war years.
The goal will be racially homogeneous nations and continents, and all areas will use barter over the gold standard and have food security.
Military is to be used for police actions to keep order and to secure racial defense.
It is never to be used for economic or political goals.
New continental constitutions will be drawn up by continental, federal, and legislative bodies.
Government will focus more on the spirit than the letter of the law.
Property ownership evolves into trusteeship.
And everything is in the common interest.
The desire for wealth is to be despised, and banks merely record transactions.
The author is against all relationships of exploitation, and also it's always to be remembered that racial hygiene is the highest goal.
Now, to this end, the author imagines scientific pairings based on racial types.
The author declares freedom from bourgeoisie marriage, and instead the author suggests that women and children should be accommodated by state allowance.
No woman, he declares, need live in dependence on a man.
However, at other points the author speaks of preparation for married life.
This contradiction points to a traditionalist and socialist strains within this movement.
These are really strains which are unresolved to this day.
Now, industry is allowed some self-governance, but distribution is under federal control, and regional tribunals deal with disputes.
The backwards races are led by Nordics to their own benefit.
Nations do not need absolute equality.
The leading powers will coordinate and direct federations, and it's all in order to resolve economic imperialism.
Continental federalism allows for a place for love of country, but it also embraces racial and socialist dimension.
The author, while sounding Marxist at times, is also very religious, and believes socialism is an ideology of love and service to God.
Thus, this federalism will prevent the exploitation of capitalism and colonialism.
Art is to be regenerate.
The World Organization is to make a channel for the gospel, and children are to be educated in the importance of the struggle.
The New Dispensation will have no other religion, but it will also unite all religions.
The calendars will be filled with celebrations, and everyone will have at home shrines.
How is this vision going to come about, you might ask?
Well, Germany, the author claims, will unite with Russia and will be torn away from Americanism.
Germany will have a victory without force.
An organization called the Aryan Truth Society will take hold all over the world, and the old system will collapse.
The author imagines that propaganda films can be used to suggest the new system and thus winning support.
Victory is God's plan.
Now, in this sense, the reader is plagued with a sense of disconnect.
The author is writing post-1945, yet seems to believe that he can suggest a new world government and call for a series of peace conferences, as if he is somehow in control of global affairs.
And, of course, this makes the author seem to be living in a fantasy world.
In a sense, this author seems to be even more in a fantasy or in his own world than someone like Svitri Devi, for example.
But even so, it's still an interesting study on some comprehensive vision of the New World Order after victory if things had gone differently.
Now, you'll notice that this author does look at the world through somewhat of an imperialism, at least when compared to the Benoist idea, which is neutral as far as the progress of societies, because Benoist, as you might recall, is non-judgmental as far as non-progressive, non-Western societies.
So I hope you found this review interesting.
I thought it would be appropriate because April 20th is coming up.
So have a good evening and hail victory, comrades.
You're welcome.
Thank you.
Almost 15 years ago, I began a series of emailed articles called the Weird Aryan History Series, which some of you will be familiar with.
This is the 56th and last article in that series, and it is entitled The Immortal Trooper.
Horst Ludwig Wessel was a National Socialist hero during the Kampfzeit, the time of struggle from 1919 until the day of the German Revolution, on January 30, 1933.
He was the author of the lyrics to the song Die Pfannehauk, which means Raise the Banner, usually known as the Horst Vessel Lied or Horst Vessel Song, which became the Nazi Party anthem and which was also part of Germany's dual national anthem from 1933 until 1945, along with Deutschland über alles.
Wessel was born on September 9, 1907, in Bielefeld in Westfalia, the son of a Lutheran pastor, Dr. Ludwig Wessel, who from 1913 until his death in 1923 was the minister at the Nikolai Kirsch, one of Berlin's oldest churches.
His mother also came from a family of Lutheran pastors.
Although he was later portrayed by hostile liberal and Jewish sources as an illiterate thug, Wessel had a good education and was of at least average intelligence.
He attended the Volksschule des Kunischen Gymnasiums, which means a primary school, from 1914 until 1922, and the Gymnasium, which is a secondary school in Königstadt from 1922 on.
For his final year of school, he attended the Luschenstadt Gymnasium, where he sat and passed his Abitur, which is the German school leaving examination.
In April 1926, he enrolled in the law faculty of Friedrich Wilhelm University, which is now Humboldt University, in Unter den Linden, and appears to have been a satisfactory student until he decided to devote all his time to the Nazi movement.
Wessel was politically active from an early age.
His father was a supporter of the conservative German National People's Party, or DNVP, and when he was 15, Wessel joined the DNVP youth group, the Bismarckjugend.
He soon became a local leader, engaging in street battles with the youth groups of the Social Democrats and Communists.
By 1926, however, Wessel had grown too radical for the DNVP, and in December of that year, the 19-year-old youth joined the Nazi Party and its paramilitary organization, the SA, or Brownshirts.
Until this time, the Nazis had been very weak in Red Berlin, but from 1926, under the energetic leadership of the new Gauleiter, Dr. Joseph Goebbels, the Nazis rapidly displaced other parties of the right.
Wessel was one of the wave of new young recruits that Goebbels brought into the party.
Wessel soon impressed Goebbels, and in January of 1928, during the period when the Berlin city authorities had banned the SA in an effort to curb political street violence, he was sent on a study trip to Vienna to study the organizational and tactical methods of the Nazi movement there.
In May 1929, Wessel was appointed leader of SA Troop 34, based in the Friedrichshund district, where he was now living.
In October 1929, he decided to devote himself full-time to the Nazi movement and dropped out of his university studies.
In addition to his political activities, Wessel had some musical talents.
He played the Schaumai, or Schaum, which is a kind of oboe popular in Germany, and he founded an SA Schaummeincapella, or Schaumband, which was used to provide music during SA parades and meetings and to attract new followers.
In early 1929, Vessel wrote the lyrics for a new Nazi fighting song, or Kampflied, which was published for the first time in Goebbels' newspaper Der Angriff in September, under the title Der Unbekannte Essaman, which means The Unknown Essay Man.
This was the song later known as Die Fahnerhoch, from its opening line, or as the Horst Vessel song.
It was later claimed by the Nazis that he also wrote the music, but in fact the tune was taken from a World War I German Navy song, and it's probably originally a folk tune.
In September 1929, Vessel met an 18-year-old woman named Erna Janneke.
The usual litany of hostile sources have claimed that Erna was a prostitute, but no one has ever produced any actual proof of this allegation.
Shortly afterward, he moved in with her at her apartment.
This may have contributed to the later slanders against Erna's character, since in those days cohabitation was still considered highly immoral.
The landlady was one Frau Salm, whose late husband, unknown to Vessel, had been an active communist.
Now, Frau Salm seems to have developed an active dislike for Vessel.
Exactly why she would rent to a National Socialist couple living in sin, or why they would rent from a communist-connected landlady was never clarified, but that appears to have been the situation.
On the evening of January 14, 1930, Vessel answered a knock on his door, and he was shot in the face by an assailant who then fled the scene.
He was gravely wounded and lingered in hospital until he died on the 23rd of February.
His assassin was Albrecht Ali Hüller, an active member of the local Communist Party or KPD branch.
The KPD denied any knowledge of the attack, but then they would, wouldn't they, and said it resulted from a dispute over money between Vessel and his landlady.
It's possible that the shooting was revenge by local communists for Vessel's alleged role in the murder by local Nazis of a 17-year-old communist, Camilo Ross, earlier in the day.
Later romantic embellishment claimed that Hüller was a former lover of Erna Janneke, and the handsome young stormtrooper had stolen his girl.
At this distance in time, it seems impossible to establish the exact details of what happened.
Vessel was buried on March 1st in the graveyard of the Nikolai Kersha, his father's old church.
It was reported that 30,000 people lined the streets to see the funeral procession.
Goebbels delivered the eulogy in the presence of Hermann Goering and Prince August Wilhelm of Prussia, son of the former Emperor Wilhelm II, who had joined the SA.
When the Nazis came to power in 1933, an elaborate memorial was erected over the grave, and it became the site of annual pilgrimages by the Nazis, at which the Horst Wessel song was sung and speeches made.
With the fall of the Third Reich in 1945, the memorial was destroyed and Wessel's remains were apparently disinterred and also destroyed.
The gravesite has recently been discovered by amateur historians.
Vessel was elevated by Goebbels' propaganda apparatus to the status of leading martyr of the Nazi movement.
Nazi propaganda glorified his life.
De Braunen, which was the essay journal, declared, How high horse vessel towers over that Jesus of Nazareth, that Jesus who pleaded that the bitter cup be taken from him.
How unattainably high all horse vessels stand above Jesus.
Vessel was commemorated in memorials, books, and films.
Hans Heinz Ewers wrote a novelistic biography of him.
One of the first films of the Nazi era was an idealized version of his life entitled Hans Vestmar.
In 1936, the German Navy commissioned a three-masted training ship and named it the Horst Vessel.
The ship was taken as a war prize by the United States after World War II.
After repairs and modifications, it was commissioned on 15 May 1946.
And to the United States Coast Guard as the Eagle and is still in service.
The martyrdom of Horst Wessel led directly to the promotion of his song Die Fahnehoch as the official song of consecration, or Vihelilied, for the Nazi Party.
In 1933, it was adopted as the unofficial second part of the German National Anthem, to be played and sung immediately after the Deutschlandlied.
The song was banned, along with all other Nazi symbols, in 1945.
And both the lyrics and tune remain illegal in Germany to this day.
Well, not here it ain't.
The Fahne Rost, the Reifels, the Schlosser, the Spahn has changed with the new steps.
The Fahne Rost, the Reifels, the Schlosser, the Schosser, the Reifels, the Brunner, the
Reifels, the Brunner, the Reifels, the Schlosser, the Schosser, the Brunner, What does he want home a job with my��자?
The pop Ferryái so he records.
Donner here.
I've decided to come clean and tell you all why I'm such a jerk.
Or a downer.
Or an asshole.
Or whatever.
Pick your insult, really.
Over the years, all sorts of feedback has been provided about me and the things I say or do in my efforts to further the Northwest Imperative.
And actually, that's fine by me.
I do put myself out there, and a healthy amount of negative feedback is actually par for the course.
At some point, it's actually best for me to own up to why this happens and perhaps convince a few more of you that it's actually a good thing.
And on that note, I'll jump into the story I've decided to use to introduce today's talk.
When I was a child, and being raised a good little Zionist wigger, I was frequently sent to my family's preferred Bible camp for a week or two every summer.
This was usually an alright experience, but there were pitfalls which could really wreck the time spent there, and one of them was illnesses of all sorts.
The adults who came along had to keep an eye out for sick kids because the close quarters in the bunks guaranteed everyone would catch whatever bug was brought to camp.
And as it happened, the very instant we got to camp one summer, a friend of mine from church was so rudely informed by his digestive tract he was the proud carrier of a rather nasty stomach book.
I found this out when I walked into the cabin's bathroom only to find one of the adults dragging him to the toilet while repeating, I can't give you medicine until you puke.
You can't really blame this kid for not wanting to deal with the unpleasant parts of being sick and just trying to make it all go away, but that's not how things work.
The adult in question was fully aware of the reality of imminent regurgitation, and any medicine given prior would be a total waste.
I would hope that, as adults, you all see the wisdom in this.
At the time, I was just barely old enough to understand that, while this friend of mine was incredibly uncomfortable and clearly was trying to fight his way back to the sink where a rudimentary first aid kit had been laid out, he was taking exactly the wrong action, since the medication would be of no effect if he weren't ready to receive it.
The general arc of my point ought to be obvious to the more intuitive members of the RFN audience at this point, but I do need to spell out some specifics because their examples will be incredibly helpful in the more subtle aspects of my point.
In general, this all goes back to the character issue I'm sure you're all sick of hearing about, but it's still pertinent and will be all the way up to the point where, in the society of the Northwest American Republic, has been stabilized for long enough so that the oldest living members of society have no memory of having lived in America and being subjected to the moral and spiritual influences of our racial enemies.
The only way that's going to come about is if we start confronting the problem here and now.
Well, decades ago, actually, but that's obviously not possible, so we're forced to deal with what's in front of us.
Anyway, the general example of the metaphoric need to puke, interestingly enough to me, even if to no one else, is the need to acknowledge the need.
Okay, that's going to need some parsing.
What I mean is that the first step to solving a problem is knowing it exists, or more appropriately for white nationalists the world over, admitting it exists.
That should strike you as an odd thing for me to say if you are listening closely and have any sort of positive opinion of your own nationalist political beliefs.
After all, a white nationalist has been woken up, and as someone who is considered racially aware, surely you have a better grasp on the world than others, right?
Well, okay, maybe so, but consider something for a second or two.
If we as white nationalists possess some sort of special skill to interact with reality in ways the average Wigger will not, then we have a special responsibility to use it in the capacity of which we imagine ourselves capable.
And in all fairness, I think there's actually something to this.
It really does take some sort of unique ability to start questioning all the lies Judaic society forces on us starting at birth.
The ability to wake up.
Someone, insofar as that's a real thing, which is not at all, or as is more common, the ability to even be awoken at all, speaks well of a person.
Yes, there's some sarcasm here, but it's because I'm forced to explain this in a paradigm which is a dishonest way of representing white racial political development.
I do so only to illustrate inconsistency in thought processes, not to imply the existence of a mythical feat which, in truth, never occurs.
Just so we're clear.
Most of you will recall the four stages of learning I spoke about while I did my white character talks a few years ago.
Going through those stages, particularly when it's in relation to racial truth, takes a toll on a person.
Paying that toll, however, is an investment which has as its return the ability to be appropriately critical of false information and to weed out things which ought not be.
This is the skill required for that moral inventory thing a herald brings up from time to time.
It's something I and every other migrant had to do before we were able to get our hearts and minds in order.
And as daunting as that sounds, you're actually quite ready for it because you have, whether or not you know it, developed the ability to make the judgments required by such.
So why don't you?
Turning this sort of judgment inward on yourself is the next step in your racial development, and we both know it.
Well, I think it's because you know you'll have to do a lot of metaphorical puking before you're done.
I did, and I'd do it all again, too, since I was genuinely better off after it was over.
Each week, Harold...
Others, and usually I, make attempts to spoon-feed the medicine of white character adjustments, but we find they just don't stay down because very few of you, if any, do the work you should all do between Radio Free Northwest episodes.
And of those who actually attempt these processes, most stop shortly after starting because they immediately realize how unpleasant the first parts are.
I've decided I'm going to stick with my metaphor, so unfortunately, I could With apologies to the more sensitive listeners, call this sort of failed effort chewing it back.
We can't give you medicine until you puke.
You'll recall my last RFN appearance was a repeat, which was prompted by the need for some spaced repetition.
And really, that's not such a bad thing when it comes to general political theory, or items of historical or ideological import.
But basic solutions to common problems?
Especially those which are easily thought through on one's own?
Look, I don't want to sound like I'm down on you guys, but when it's called for, I have to let my inner jerk out so he can run around for a bit and have his fun.
And if it seems I'm being flippant about it, I should let you in on a little secret.
None of you is aware of the times I've limited my commentary or even scrapped entire presentations which were nothing but truthful on their face because I knew full well it was just too much for the bulk of the audience to handle as they are.
It happens an awful lot.
As an example of that, I'll bring your attention to another of my recent RFN submissions, which dealt with white nationalist adoption of cultural Marxism as it pertains to sexual behavior.
Because that subject is so sensitive, I ask that people refrain from commenting on that particular RFN episode for the purpose of responding to that subject material, since most of us can't figure out how to behave when that happens to be the topic of conversation.
And of course, there were actually three different comment responses.
One came from Idabro.
And, well, Idabro has wide latitude to say what he likes, so that's good by me.
Another of the remarks came from someone who understood the subject well enough to provide helpful commentary.
That's honestly the last thing I expected to happen, but hey, sometimes you guys surprise us.
But there was another remark made, which was precisely the sort of thing I politely requested not happen.
Specifically, I said we don't want the party's website to be a platform for people to work out their problems in public, but that's just what happened.
One of you decided that a particularly Marxist and society-ending behavior should be tolerated because it tangentially related to your pet subject.
Another reason I have to be a jerk is that, even when we're polite and upfront with you all about what's going on, quite a few of you are still openly hostile and outright disrespectful, to the point where there's no benefit in being nice because it only impedes the party's ability to speak its mind.
Pet issues are the first thing that need to be vomited from whatever constitutes your being because they actually prevent you from adopting the correct racial and political agendas.
If you're not going to do that, at the very least do me a favor and leave the party out of it.
I won't even address the issue of one's inability to follow direction since, well, that's too easy.
And lest you think I'm sliding into jerk territory again, well, okay, I am, but there's a good reason for it.
Upon reviewing today's content up to this point, I decided to take a break to browse the scripts from my previous RFN submissions.
Good grief, that's a bunch of material, but it was worthwhile and actually pretty on point for what I'm talking about today.
In truth, there was a massive amount of genuinely positive and useful material in that stack of scripts, all of which has been played and replayed on RFN over the years.
But despite that, only a few of you make any use of it.
Some of you actually tell us we're being negative, or depressing people, or whatever other denial is in vogue during the year in which the complaint is generated.
Most of this usually comes down to hurt feelings, such as when I have to get on someone for failing to follow message board rules, for example.
Harold makes jokes about Movement Junior High, but they're really so much more than jokes.
The party has policies and procedures for things, which aren't always popular, and we have to run around cleaning up messes made by overgrown babies who can't figure out what's expected of them even when it's clearly spelled out.
And since I mentioned hurt feelings, that's what I'll close on.
Hurt feelings or no, there's not a whole lot I can do about that.
Your feelings are entirely internal to you.
So you're the only one who can interact with them.
And even if you choose to share them with me, I still can't interact with them since I don't experience them.
I only experience your representation of your feelings, and that's a far cry from the feelings themselves.
As I can't interact with your feelings, not only am I not really the one hurting them, it's unreasonable to expect me or anyone else associated with the party to adjust what we're saying because of your feelings.
Most of this seems to be due to the growing reality that many Americans are unaccustomed to meeting compulsory standards.
Informally, that means they have a bad attitude.
I don't begrudge people their feelings, since feelings are usually indicative of one's value system, but expectations of being catered to are totally invalid and are incredibly puke-worthy.
The truth about accusations of being depressing or negative or whatever else is that we're only communicating facts, and because of this, any source of unpleasant reaction is solely within the listener.
You know, there's medicine for that sort of thing, and by now there's a good chance you know what we need you to do before we can give you any.
Hail Victory!
Okay, I'm going to add a few codicils to Andy's presentation there.
I'm going to strike while the iron is hot, and I'm going to be a jerk.
I'm going to be totally up front with you guys about one of my really big pet character peeves.
Now, a lot of times on this show, I'm going to be honest with you, I have to pull my punches when I'm talking about the character issue and our people.
I have to avoid stating things that everybody knows damn well to be true and which very quickly become obvious to anyone who spends ten minutes around our wee little movement.
I have to word things delicately and very carefully so that I don't ruffle feathers.
I have constantly to qualify things so I don't offend.
I have to constantly reassure people.
Oh no, I'm not talking about anybody in particular.
I'm just observing a phenomenon, and usually that's true.
More often than not, because the person in whom I observed that particular phenomenon is gone now.
Either they flounced off in a huff because they didn't like something I said, or they fled screaming into the night because something I said frightened them and they had visions of FBI men on their doorstep, or else I said something and they were convinced, usually incorrectly, that I was secretly talking about them, and so they're off in a corner somewhere sulking.
In a way, it's almost like I'm a white boy living on a modern college campus.
How careful I have to be about inadvertently saying the wrong thing and giving offense.
Now the reason should be obvious.
I am dependent on you guys to keep me out from under the highway overpass and keep the rain off my head and keep my computer connected and functional, and I am eminently subject to blackmail, which has been tried in the past.
So far it's been nothing I can't handle, or at least nothing I can't live with, but I have to hedge all my comments on...
Just about everything with all kinds of disclaimers and yes buts.
By the way, this kind of situation has always existed in our tiny little movement.
It existed before the internet and it always will exist.
This type of behavior is just part of who we are and what we do.
I don't know why the hell we're like that, but we are.
And I actually stopped worrying about it long ago.
It seems to be a somewhat aggravated version of the generic white boy's inability to grow up.
And accept that life and people are not perfect, that there are going to be bumps in the road and you have to play the cards you're dealt in life.
I'm very largely used to this kind of behavior after having observed it for so many years.
Like Earl Long said, that dog can bite me but he can't eat me.
Or, while we're recycling old cliches, ever heard that one about it's better to light a single candle than to curse the darkness?
I've spent my entire life trying to light a few candles.
But these middle-aged adolescents are constantly blowing them out.
That's the main problem, is that movement junior high perpetual adolescence thing.
Like all adolescents, white nationalist people, no matter what their age, almost all have skins as thin as tissue paper.
Everything, even mildly negative, anything that so much as hints...
That someone or their behavior is even slightly less than perfect is taken as a mortal insult and the cause for a lifelong blood feud of cyber-stalking, rumor-mongering, insults, smears, slanders, and vilification.
And, of course, everything is always about you, by which I mean anytime you guys hear me say anything on character, you're convinced that I'm really talking about you.
Even though I tell you specifically I'm not.
Now, but some of you think I'm talking about you right now listening to this.
Am I right?
There is a word for that.
It's called paranoia, and I am now using that word in its clinical medical sense.
One of the symptoms of paranoia is thinking that people are talking always about you behind your back and that all conversation and activity in your immediate area has to do with you.
The next step is fanciful interpretation.
Thinking simple acts or words in real life from people or on TV from an actor or movie star or something are really secret coded messages meant for you.
Stalkers get this a lot.
That's getting into real banana boat territory there.
Of course, I have reason to be paranoid seeing as how some very unpleasant people really are after me.
But I've never been so bad that I thought the news announcer or the progressive insurance ad lady or the Taco Bell chihuahua were secretly talking about me in code.
Kind of like that loon who couldn't watch football on TV because he thought every time the players went into a huddle they were talking about him.
But we have some people almost that bad listening to this show.
The slightest off-putting remark or perceived slight from fearless leader or another comrade will send someone into a snit and off into a corner, sulking, sometimes for months.
Every now and then, it's something at least somewhat comprehensible.
Like a while back, purely by accident, I revealed a guy's email address.
I apologized for it.
It was unfortunate, and it was my fault, because in a moment of inattention, I clicked CC instead of BCC.
Now, I'm not even sure that the recipient of the email even noticed this guy's email address in the CC window at all.
And if he did, he didn't seem to care.
But this guy, whom I accidentally outed, seems to feel that my entire career up to this point has been one long build-up to this crowning moment when I revealed his email to the world and to an elderly gentleman in Spokane who still sends me black crime clippings by mail.
Ha ha!
Finally gotcha!
I think this guy later shuffled back rather shamefacedly, but you get the idea.
With other cases, they send me some abusive communication accusing me of being a CIA asset or Lucifer's bitch or whatever.
Or else they simply go dark and I never hear from them again and only years later, I hear it was because...
Something I said on the internet left them all bleeding and butt hurt and emotionally devastated or else convinced that I'm a Buffy bot being manipulated by the FBI or something of that sort.
What can I say?
How about people don't do that, okay?
It's really stupid, okay?
And on that topic, let me say that I have not had an excuse to play this one in years.
*music*
Remember when you ran away and I got on my knees and begged you not to leave because I go berserk?
Well, you left me anyhow, and then the days got worse and worse, and now you see I've gone completely out of my mind.
And they're coming to take me away, ha ha, they're coming to take me away, ho ho, hee hee, ha ha, to the funny farm where life is beautiful.
Nice young men in their clean white coats, and they're coming to take me away!
Ha ha!
You thought it was a joke, and so you laughed.
You laughed when I had said that losing you would make me flip my lid.
Right?
You know you laughed.
I heard you laugh.
You laughed, you laughed, and laughed, and then you left, but now you know I'm utterly mad.
And they're coming to take me away.
Ha ha, they're coming to take me away, ho ho he hee, ha ha, to the happy home with trees and flowers and chirping birds and basket weavers who sit and smile and twiddle their thumbs and toes and they're coming to take me away, ha ha ha ha.
Yeah!
I cooked your food, I cleaned your house and this is how you pay me back for all my kind, unselfish, loving deeds.
Well, you just wait.
They'll find you yet.
And when they do, they'll put you in the ASPCA, you mangy muck.
And they're coming to take me away.
Ha-ha.
They're coming to take me away.
Ho-ho.
Hee-hee.
Ha-ha.
To the funny farm where life is beautiful all the time.
And then I'll be happy to see those nice young men in their clean white coats And they're coming to take me away, ha ha ha ha ha To the happy home with trees and flowers and chirping birds and basket weavers And sit and smile and twiddle and thumbs and toes And they're coming to take me away, ha ha ha ha ha To the funny farm where life is beautiful *sad music* Okay, I got an email from a comrade who was involved in an incident in one of his local big box stores.
I won't give any names or details on the chance that this goes any further, and they're not important anyway.
But this guy was in the checkout line, and a whole family of Mexicans, or according to him, beaners of some sort, El Salvadorians or whatever, apparently these women were literally wrapped in Indian blankets, and they were apparently fresh off the Greyhound bus from the border.
Probably courtesy of Obama's Border Patrol.
Anyway, these spics pushed ahead of him in line and took his place, and the white woman behind the cash register ignored him and took them instead.
Now, as it happens, I know this man's situation personally.
He is legitimately not a guy who can really afford to wave his arms about in the air and shout pointlessly in frustration and make a scene and have attention drawn to himself when everybody pretty much knows not a damn thing's going to be done about it.
Might offer him some gift coupons or something, but that's not going to deal with the fact that these people were here to begin with in a place that they have no right to be.
Now, I won't go into why, but in his case, this is on the up and up.
He can't afford to get ID'd by the enemy.
But nonetheless, as he reached the checkout counter, he made a comment to the woman behind the cash register, and he tells me he just couldn't help himself.
He said something to the effect of, maybe once President Trump builds the wall, we won't have to worry about that kind of thing.
Not anything overtly racial, just a simple comment regarding a man who is, after all, the front runner in one of the major parties'presidential primaries.
The result was a gibbering tirade from the woman behind the counter on how she wasn't going to tolerate quote-unquote that kind of language in her line.
She demanded that he apologize before she would check out his merchandise, and I don't know if that was to apologize to her or to the Mexicans.
Anyway, he refused to do it, and he tells me that he refused firmly but politely.
He didn't yell, he didn't use any abusive language, and he requested that a manager be called.
And to make a long story short, the manager himself checked out this man's merchandise rather than be seen to discipline the liberal woman at all.
Which is, let's face it, pretty much the norm in this society.
So our guy went home and decided that he is going to fine that store $1,000, not only for the lefty bimbo's abuse, but because the manager pointedly refused to discipline or reprimand her for her rudeness to a customer.
He figures he normally spends roughly $250 per month in their store, give or take, and so he's not stepping through the doors for the next four months, thus depriving them of approximately $1,000.
Furthermore, our guy's going to write a letter, not an email, to the company's head office, since an email can be traced a lot easier.
Now, the letter will be anonymous because, as he will explain, it is genuinely not his desire to get this poor checkout woman in trouble.
She may have a family and may desperately need her job, so forth and so on.
Nor, of course, does he wish to identify himself for victimization either, although he won't mention that aspect of it, of course.
Our friend will simply tell the store what happened and tell them that it's going to cost them $1,000.
That's it.
End of story.
He doesn't want any gift certificates.
He doesn't want any written apologies from some senior vice president or anything like that.
They're going to lose $1,000 because they wouldn't get a grip on that bimbo.
Now, how many letters like that do you think a major corporation needs to receive before they understand that they are losing significant sums of money because they will not rein in their social justice warriors and Hillary Clinton freaks on the checkout line or other customer service areas where this sort of thing happens?
Just an idea, guys.
But 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 2188, Bremerton, Washington, 98310.
Or you can go to the party's website at www.northwestfront.org.
This is Harold Covington, and I'll see you next week.
Until then, Sasha Underban.
Freedom.
The sun on the meadow is summery walk And the stag in the forest runs free But gathered together to greet the storm We're
And the rain gives its gold to the sea But somewhere a glory awaits unseen Tomorrow belongs to me
Tomorrow belongs to me I'm going to go to the next day
The baby in its cradle Tomorrow belongs to me.
Tomorrow belongs to me.
Fatherland, fatherland, show us the sign.
Your children have been waiting to see.
The morning will come when the world is mine.
Tomorrow belongs to me.
Tomorrow belongs to me.
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