April 11, 2019 - Radio Free Nortwest - H.A. Covington
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Greetings from the Northwest homeland, comrades.
The date is Thursday, April 11th, 2019.
I'm Andy Donner, and this is another Radio Free Northwest rerun.
Due to several recent events, chief among them the passing of Comrade Don Welke, I don't have time to hack together a proper intro and outro for this week's rerun, so I'm slipping in this little announcement.
The rerun this week is the episode that serves as the 2012 Halloween episode.
In particular, I want to call your attention to Harold's monologue on the issue of education versus action.
I picked this one for a very specific purpose.
You'll note that I have yet to deliver the answer to the whole waking people up issue, and I'm going to do that next week come hell or high water because, as I said last time I was on, this is a very serious subject with serious questions by serious people that needs to be dealt with, but it needs to be dealt with correctly.
It should come as no surprise that I'm priming you all by playing various episodes where we've discussed this precise thing before, because I intend to drop the mother of all bombs next time I talk about this for new content on Radio Free Northwest.
My purpose in playing this particular rerun, though, is to get you all to consider this matter specifically.
Harold will talk about the issue of education versus action, and it's all too easy for each and every one of us To externalize that and say, and now that we've educated you, you need to take action.
The problem is there are far too many people who think they can get away with doing all of the waking people up and education stuff without acting themselves, and truth be told, there's an underlying character problem, which is what we're best at dealing with here on Radio Free Northwest.
I think you see what I mean, so I'll shut up and let you listen to the rerun.
Be well.
Tell me Sean O 'Farrell, tell me why you hurry so.
Hush a woogle, 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, right well known to you and me One word more for
signal, token, whistle of the marching tune Fire pikes 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 Many a manly chest was throbbing for the blessed warning light.
Formers 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 October the 25th, 2012.
I'm Harold Covington, and this is Radio Free Northwest.
Now, this is the closest we can get to Halloween, since next Thursday is November the 1st, and since this isn't The Simpsons, we always have our Halloween special before the 31st of October, and not sometime in the middle of November.
So, this week, our musical selections will be as ghostly and ghoulish as we can get them.
But before we proceed, there's something I want to go ahead and get done with right now.
Now, you may recall that last year, and earlier this year, the Federal Communications Commission was all over Radio Free Northwest for not having sufficient minority viewpoint representation on the show.
What I did was I hunted up some old nigger wino down at the bus station called Dry Ice Washington, and I dragged his black ass in here and had him mumble a couple of segments.
And then when Dry Ice was either too drunk or in jail, I took to bringing in his common-law wife Effie Sue Washington and had her screech into the mic a bit, which satisfied the FCC that I'd broken the segregation barrier or whatever on Radio Free Northwest.
Now it's the state of Washington.
That is demanding that we accept Obama re-election campaign advertisements, which I absolutely categorically refuse to do.
Rather than do that, I'm bringing Effie Sue back for an election commentary, so hopefully this will fulfill the requirement for so-called minority community election input, which is a fancy way of saying, bow down to the Democrats and kiss Barry's ass, or else we'll be on the wrong side of the state of Washington government.
By the way, apparently when she was on here before, Effie Sue acquired a taste for podcasting, and like just about everybody else on earth, she now has her own website.
And at the end of her little spiel, here she gives the link.
Hello there children, it's me, F.S. Sue Washington here.
And I can't stay quiet on this debate shit no longer.
Somebody tell me what the fuck the TV net must be wasting all our precious time for.
You liberal no good bastards know you all for Obama.
Hell, why don't you just give him a goddamn three-hour commercial to beg people to vote for him?
I ain't never seen so much ass-kissing in all my life.
Let's start with the moderators.
If it ain't some 90-year-old tofu farting fucker from PBS up there trying to save his damn government-supported job, it's an overweight, ugly white woman whose only hope of getting laid is finding a colorblind black man.
And every goddamn one of them has to interject their fucking view, too.
Hey, here's a news bulletin for you.
We don't give a shit what you think.
Most of us don't even know who the fuck you are.
Where do they find these dumber-than-dirt dipshits anyway?
I mean, have they got some sort of roster of debate moderators on a file that says, can't get a fucking job in the real world, so here's a chance for the world to see what a loser you are?
You know, if it were left up there for soon, I'd put Alex Trebek from Jeopardy up there.
I can see it now.
The answer is, ain't got a fucking clue what to do or say without speechwriters or teleprompters.
The question, who the fuck is Barry Hussein Obama?
Thank you, Alex.
I'll take know-nothing Negroes for $400, please.
And it ain't enough we gotta sit through three hours of this bullshit, taking up every fucking channel except P-Fucking-BS, the public bullshit channel.
But then, after it's over, every goddamn opinionated talking head from Evening News Anchor to even our fat-ass shoppin' has to weigh in on who won and who lost.
You know who lost?
The viewers.
That's who.
We could have been watching reruns of Sanford& Son, Cosby, or the Jeffersons.
Or for you Obama voters, you could have been watching MTV, BET, or MSNBC, the metrosexual Negro broadcasting company.
Everybody who's going to vote in this election has already made up their fucking mind long ago who they're going to vote for.
And the so-called undecided, they only undecided because they ain't really got a fucking clue what's going on.
So F is still going to tell you.
Mitt Romney wants you to vote for him so he can hopefully create jobs, put people back to work, and stop this country from spending money like a drunk, horny sailor on leaving Bangkok with a stolen Visa card.
Meanwhile, that camel-colored, half-white Muslim sympathizing apologetic Oreo with the lard-ass wife running around telling kids they should be eating better so they won't have a wide load like she's got, he wants you to vote for him because he black.
That's right.
And you owe it to him from them days back when people owned slaves.
Why don't we just all fucking join hands and sing, Way down London, the land of cotton.
Oh, and by the way, if you don't give him a second time, that just goes to prove you a fucking racist.
And the question is, who is Barry Hussein Obama?
Thank you.
I'll take arrogant assholes for $400, Alex.
SSL Washington here.
Go to my webpage and buy my shit at FSUWashington.org.
Peace out, niggas.
Okay, got an email from Chris in London.
Dear HAC, could you say something about General George Patton and his assassination by the Jews on one of your RFN podcasts?
I'm thinking that there might be a great many military and ex-military listeners out there who have no idea how Patton really died and who are still sitting on the fence, as it were.
The revelation of an assassinated anti-Nazi war hero by the Jews for learning about the fact that the USA and the USSR both were both controlled by the same conspiracy, Assassin's Creed style, might persuade some of them to jump off it.
Okay, Chris, first off, yeah, I think there's pretty good chance that the Jews, or more specifically the communist variety, had Patton whacked in late 1945.
It's the height of bad luck to have not one but two automobile accidents in a row.
The second one in the ambulance that's taking you to the hospital from the scene of the first one.
However, Chris, how can I put this without sounding like I'm scolding you in particular?
Damn it, I hate it when I have to end up sounding like I'm shaking my finger in our own people.
Look, one of the more common phenomena in the white nationalist movement, pretty much worldwide, is this obsession that we have with this idea of quote-unquote waking people up.
Now, one manifestation of this idea is that if only somehow all white people everywhere could be made cognizant of some obscure little historical fact, then everybody will wake up and everything will be hunky-dory and all our problems will vanish in a puff of smoke.
The Jews will cover their faces with their cloaks and slink off stage left.
The niggers will suddenly run back to the fields and start chopping cotton and singing spirituals.
The Mexicans will just sort of slide back south of the Rio Grande, or in your case, the Muslims will all hop on planes back to Pakistan and Bangladesh, and we'll be right back in the 1950s again, when all you Brits had to worry about was teddy boys on motor scooters.
In our American version, this sudden all-permeating knowledge of some sublime little historical fact or incident will magically transport us all into the fantasy world of Pat Boone.
Okay, let's take a look at this.
Yes, there is a very good case to be made that General George Patton was murdered because of his desire to join with a new Germany and continue marching on to Moscow and put an end to communism as well as national socialism, so that everybody could be American capitalists.
I could, if I wanted, spend this entire episode discussing this mildly interesting bit of historical trivia.
I would be heard by approximately 4,800 people, which is where we've been stuck for the past year or so.
Almost exactly 4,800 hits per week.
Every week.
It's uncanny.
Of those listeners, around 1,800 of them are almost certainly completely useless.
There will be various FBI agents and other cops and spooks.
U.S. attorneys listening in the hope that I'll make a slip and say something they can prosecute me for.
Jews monitoring this podcast for various NGOs and foreign intelligence services.
Jews and liberals monitoring this podcast out of a sick and unhealthy fascination with us.
Jews listening to this program as a masturbation aid.
Yes, I'm sure we get some of that, because it's happened in the past.
And above all, hundreds of white people who, for one reason or another, are as useless as tits on a bull, and who would actually do more harm than good if they did try to get involved with the Northwest Front.
Of the remaining 3,000 or so weekly listeners to Radio Free Northwest who do have the potential to be of some real use to the Northwest Republic, if they ever make the decision to do so, the overwhelming majority of them are completely passive.
They receive only.
They sit there and absorb like a sponge, but never stir.
Kind of like pet rocks.
They tune in every week for their weekly shot of RFN just like they watch any other soap opera, and I never hear from them, never mind getting any concrete support from them.
Yes, I could probably work up a podcast that would prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that in 1945 General George Patton was murdered by Jews, and I could convince these 3,000 semi-worthwhile listeners that it's true.
With the new knowledge...
Of these 3,000 people and $1.59, I can buy a cup of watery coffee at McDonald's.
Okay, the temptation for me to run on and on here is becoming damn near overwhelming, but I don't really want to sound like I am scolding Chris, because he is not the only person who suffers from this educational syndrome, I guess you'd call it.
It is a very common right-wing and nationalist phenomenon, this idea that knowledge is a substitute for action.
We have, most of us, had this condition for years, and I've been guilty of it in the past as well.
I myself am convinced that if we could only somehow force-feed the knowledge of the fact that the Holocaust is a hoax down the throats of the few hundred million remaining Caucasian people on Earth, Then that would do it.
If we could just somehow get these skulls full of mush to question the one central showpiece of liberalism and Zionism, they would lose their powers like vampires when the sun comes up.
But we can't do that.
It is one of the most frustrating and enraging things on earth to suffer from the curse of Cassandra.
To be in possession of the truth and yet no one will listen and no one will believe because to listen and believe and accept the truth would carry with it a moral imperative to act on that truth.
And that terrifies us because we have become so soft and weak.
If we try to act, the bad men might hurt us like they hurt Jeff Hughes and Edgar Steele and the Weaver family and the children in Waco.
We know this if only subconsciously.
So we come up with 101 little mental defense mechanisms so we can convince ourselves that we're not really cowards who love ourselves and love our possessions more than we love honor or our own children.
One of these mental defense mechanisms to prevent us from acting and getting in trouble and putting ourselves in some position where the bad men might hurt us is the idea that all we need to do is show people the truth and the truth will set you free.
The trouble is, out here in the real world, just like I said, the truth and a small amount of pocket change will get you a cup of coffee, and that's all.
Look, guys, I've told you what to do, and I'll keep on telling you, so my conscience is clear.
If I was asking you to break the law or expose yourselves to for real risk of violence or prison, then that would be one thing.
Look, I get it.
You've got to crawl before you can toddle, and toddle before you can walk, and walk before you can run.
But I'm not asking you to break the law.
I'm asking you to perform a perfectly legal act that is to your personal advantage in the long run, once you can get over the initial problems and hurdles.
Anyway, I know you've heard it all before.
Maybe one day the little light bulb will come on over your head and you'll get it.
Okay, I promised you a selection of Halloween music this podcast.
This one isn't really...
Halloween-y.
It's more just gross in an Addams Family kind of way.
Dead puppies.
Dead puppies.
Dead puppies aren't much fun.
They don't come when you call.
They don't chase squirrels at all Dead puppies aren't much fun My puppy died late last fall He's still rotting in the hall Dead puppies aren't much fun No,
no, no Mom says puppy's days are through.
She's going to throw him in the stew.
Dead puppies aren't much fun.
Dead puppies.
Dead, dead, dead, dead puppies.
Dead puppies aren't much fun.
Everybody out there, sing along, okay?
Dead, dead, dead, dead puppies Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead puppies Dead puppies are much fun One more time for Roman Ruska Day!
Défroexas.
you you In June of 2010, North Idaho attorney Edgar J. Steele was arrested by the FBI on false charges of allegedly hiring a hitman to murder his wife and mother-in-law.
The alleged assassin was a man named Larry Fairfax, an FBI informer inserted into Steele's home posing as a handyman to spy on the Steele family, which is another topic I'll address in a moment.
While he was working there, Fairfax proceeded to help himself to large stashes of silver coins and bullion that the Steele's were keeping on their property.
In anticipation of a Federal Reserve currency crash brought on by Barack Obama's incompetence.
The final whereabouts of the silver seems to be something of a mystery.
Apparently, the FBI allowed Fairfax to keep at least some of it as a kind of bonus or reparations for the annoyance and inconvenience of having to spend 16 months in a minimum security prison in the service of the Bureau.
The basis of Edgar Steele's conviction were audio files fabricated by FBI technicians, supposedly discussions between himself and Fairfax about murder for hire.
These appeared even to a layman who first heard them to sound strained, stilted, unnatural, and obviously doctored at the key points and phrases.
The Steele tapes were not only forgeries, apparently they weren't even very good ones.
At Steele's trial, two international audio engineering experts, who were prepared to state categorically that the tapes were fraudulent, We're barred from testifying by a corrupt judge.
The jury was never allowed to hear evidence which clearly proved Edgar Steele's innocence.
The situation wasn't helped by the fact that Steele's first attorney, a federal public defender named Roger Piven, was a raging alcoholic who at the time was being sued by three members of his own legal staff for various acts of drunken misconduct.
That's according to an article in Spokane Spokesman Review.
Steele's second defense attorney, a man named Robert McAllister, on whom he and his wife Cindy expended most of their life's savings, turned out to be facing disbarment for embezzling his client's money, and was in fact disbarred only weeks after Steele's conviction.
Many suspect that the second attorney may have struck a deal with the government to keep himself out of prison by deliberately taking a dive in the courtroom and bungling Steele's defense.
If so, it didn't work.
In September of 2012, the 62-year-old McAllister Interestingly enough, McAllister himself was a former United States attorney and prosecutor, which gives you some idea of the typical moral character of the people in the federal judiciary.
For whatever reason, McAllister's performance in the courtroom was lackluster, to say the least, and he refused to put his client on the witness stand.
Which always looks very bad to a jury.
Needless to say, the attorney's own perilous legal situation was never explained to either Ed or Cindy Steele while the trial was going on.
As icing on the cake, I've spoken to persons present in the courtroom during the trial who told me that Ed Steele, quote-unquote, looked like a zombie, confused and disoriented, and he seemed completely incoherent and disconnected from what was going on around him.
The consensus of opinion was that Steele was drugged on orders from someone in the federal government to make sure that he was incapable of assisting in his own defense or even understanding what was happening to him.
No one knows for sure why the federal government of the United States did this horrible thing to Edgar Steele.
He must have pissed somebody off really bad, although I don't see how.
Ed had withdrawn from the Idaho governor's race due to ill health.
I have this horrible suspicion that the whole ghastly business may simply have been some kind of grotesque experiment on the part of the FBI simply to see how far they could go and how much they could get away with in arresting and destroying critics of the regime.
Edgar Steele is being held in the Victorville facility, which is well known throughout the federal system as a kind of toilet where human beings are flushed away.
Among other things, the water supply in the prison is known to be contaminated with carcinogens and toxic waste.
Which facilitates the decline in health of those federal prisoners whom the government wishes to hear no more of.
Victorville is notorious as an end-of-the-line destination.
Once the gates clang shut there, no one leaves except in a body bag.
Edgar Steele has been sent there to die.
I am now going to play for you part of an interview with Wesley Hoyt, Edgar Steele's present attorney.
Now, you will notice in Mr. Hoyt's comments what might be called the official defense version of what happened.
Which is that Larry Fairfax stole the money first and then went to the FBI and somehow, between the two of them, they cooked up this bizarre frame-up after the fact of the theft.
Now, I don't want to be accused in any way of interfering with or complicating defense efforts, although they don't seem to have come to much so far, which, by the way, is not Mr. Hoyt's fault, but the fault of the corrupt judicial system in which he is attempting to work.
I do want to point out that this idea that Larry Fairfax originated the whole idea and that the FBI merely jumped at it just doesn't ring true to me.
Everyone who knows Larry Fairfax agrees that the man is a moron of almost subnormal intelligence.
And we're talking Daryl and his other brother Daryl here.
Without turning this into a big long debate on how many FBI informers can dance on the head of a pin, I think it was the other way around.
I think the FBI approached Fairfax with the plot.
I believe that he was an informer long before they came up with this idea, and I have certain specific reasons for believing this.
Now, we will probably never know the truth one way or the other, until some revolutionary movement finally succeeds in dragging these people out of their plush carpeted offices and getting at their files and databases and throws their papers and documents down into the street like confetti for everyone to read.
You know, like the East Germans and the Romanians did in 1989.
It can be done, people.
It's been done elsewhere, and someday it will be done here.
It's March 29, 2012, and I'm here today with Edgar Steele's attorney, Wesley Hoyt.
Good morning, and thanks for being here today.
Good morning.
I understand you're pressed for time, and you've got a very important legal filing coming up in this case.
Could you explain that for our viewers?
Well, Edgar Steele is now in prison awaiting the filing of an appeal, but short of the appeal, he has the opportunity to file for a very unusual proceeding known as summary reversal.
And the reason for that is because his attorney, a man named Robert McAllister, A rather famous trial attorney, former U.S. attorney, was indicted shortly after Mr. Steele was convicted.
Well, actually, shortly within a few days after he was sentenced.
And it was a surprise indictment.
The defense team did not know about it.
The government kept it a secret.
And Mr. McAllister, who had been disbarred from his home state of Colorado, And who had declared bankruptcy and all of a sudden was being indicted for very, very serious financial crimes.
So let's briefly walk through the timeline of the case.
First, Cindy's told me that Larry Fairfax, who's the confidential government informant at the heart of the case against Edgar, and he's a confessed car bomber now, he'd worked as a handyman on the Steeles Ranch for about ten years prior to his involvement with the government.
As a former prosecutor yourself, what do you suppose the backstory is about Fairfax allegedly going to police to confess?
What's really going on here?
What's really going on is that Mr. Fairfax had declared bankruptcy just prior, and I believe it was in the month of April of 2010, so just prior to Mr. Steele's arrest.
And his home was in foreclosure, and the man was upside down financially, and he was looking for a way out.
He had stolen $46,000, $45,000 worth of silver savings that the Steele family had at their home.
He, because he was a handyman, had learned where they kept that.
That's silver, with silver coins.
And he had taken it, unbeknownst to them, and he was able to catch up his mortgage.
But he needed a cover story.
And so he went to the government and arranged this little prosecution of Edgar Steele.
And Larry Fairfax just happened to show up looking for money.
That's right.
And Larry Fairfax was their key into...
The world of Edgar Steele.
Well, Cindy related to me a story that in early June she was in Portland with her mom and Edgar calls and wants to know how she left the bedroom.
Where was this?
Where was the teddy bear for the Russian bride investigation?
And Edgar had a feeling that things had been moved around.
You remember this?
Yes, indeed.
Edgar confronts Fairfax about, were you in the house?
And Cindy tells me, Fairfax says, yeah, I went into the house looking for tools.
He admitted that he was in the house and that he was not supposed to be there.
And so he, I mean, he definitely was trying to get some information on Edgar, some personal information.
At this point, we don't even know what it was.
Juries hear evidence presented in a case and nobody objects to the evidence.
They're going to naturally assume that the evidence is genuine, yes?
That is correct.
Why would a jury ever think, "Gosh, these tapes sound funny." Well, they must be fine because the judge let them in and nobody contested them.
Well, that's exactly what the jury would think, because nobody contested them.
The judge actually instructed the defense on several occasions not to present anything, ask any questions, or make any objections that would make the government look bad.
So, the judge is saying that the defense can't even question the honesty and veracity of the government.
That is correct.
Please understand.
We used to have something called the presumption of innocence.
In other words...
Anybody who was accused of a crime was presumed innocent and the government had a very high bar and they had to put on enough evidence to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the person was guilty.
Well now there's a presumption of governmental regularity and correctness.
What that means is that the court presumes that everything that the government does is in the regular course of business and it's Normal, and it's okay, and it's correct.
Under the presumption of innocence, the government should be presumed to be incorrect and irregular.
Ah!
Yes.
It's upside down and we're rallying again.
It's backwards.
It's backwards.
And whenever you hear a judge say, and I've heard this repeatedly, judges will say, oh, when you have a defendant and you have a member of the law enforcement, And the two have counter stories, and those are the only witnesses.
You have the defendant versus the cop, for instance.
The judge will say, well, I always have to believe the cop.
Well, that's exactly wrong.
The judge should always have to believe the defendant in that situation, because there's a presumption of innocence.
Okay, so you're talking about this, rather than a presumption of innocence, this governmental...
Presumption of governmental regularity and correctness.
Did you learn about that in law school?
No.
This started in 1979.
There are some cases where courts of appeals have decided that they have to give absolute credence to what the government says and does, and then you have to prove that you're innocent.
I am the wife.
The proud wife of Edgar J. Steele.
And I am here to tell you that this is a cover-up, a frame-up to cover up Larry Fairfax's crimes against me.
My husband is innocent.
We had the proof.
We had all the proof.
And it was the court system that would not allow our experts that know that those tapes are falsified.
Which I could hear.
I knew.
They know.
But...
They wouldn't allow it in because of their restrictions because they don't want to hear the truth.
And it's Larry Fairfax's criminal activities to cover up his theft of the $45,000 and him attempting to murder me on his own to get rid of me.
so that my husband would be put away.
This is not the end because I will fight and support him.
And no, I don't have Stockholm Syndrome and just believing because I love him because...
So far as anyone knows, all legal appeals of the Edgar Steele case have been rejected without comment.
No appeals court, including the Supreme Court, will even hear him.
Edgar Steele has been held virtually incommunicado now for almost a year.
His mail is simply disappearing with no response.
When he was first admitted to Victorville, he was restricted to writing five letters per month.
He was given brief access to a prison email system called CarLinks, but so far as anyone is willing to admit, no one has heard from him since the early summer.
And as of one hour ago when I checked, there have been no updates to the official blog or Facebook page since September the 18th.
I have reason to believe that absolutely crushing pressure has been brought on Cindy Steele to be quiet.
But I won't comment further.
I'm still trying to get someone close to the family who knows what's going on to talk to me.
But apparently they've been warmed off public comment and warned off the Northwest Front in particular.
The power structure has now degenerated to flat-out threats.
If anyone has heard from Edgar Steele since sometime in June, even if it was just to acknowledge a piece of mail, please contact me at nwnet at earthlink.net.
We honestly don't know if this man is alive or dead now, if they've transferred him, if they put him in solitary, if he's in the hospital because he was in very bad health when he went in.
We just don't know.
I'm trying to find out, basically, frankly, if the guy's still alive.
Needless to say, if someone does want to talk to me, I will hold all communications on this topic in complete confidentiality.
This is Jim Stafford.
Blackwater Hattie lived back in the swamp where strange green reptiles crawl.
Snakes hang thick from the cypress trees like sausage on a smokehouse wall.
Well, the swamp is alive with a thousand eyes and all of them watching you stay off the track of Hattie Shack in the back of the Black Bayou.
so Way up the road from Hattie Shack lies a sleepy little Okeechobee town.
Talk a swamp witch or Hattie to lock you in when the sun go down.
Rumors of what she done and rumors of what she do.
Kept folks off a track of Hattie Shack in the back of the Black Bayou.
I'm going to go to the Black Bayou.
One day brought the rain, the rain stayed on, and the swamp water overflowed.
Skeeters and the fever grabbed the town like a fist, Dr. Jackson was the first to go.
Some said the plague was brought by Hattie, there was talk of a hanging tooth.
But the talk got shackled by the howls and the cackles from the bowels of the black bayou.
Early one morn between dark and dawn when shadows fill the sky.
There came an unseen caller on a town where hope was undried.
In the square there was found a big black ground fat full of gurgling brew.
Whispering sounds as the folks gathered round it came from the black bayou.
There ain't much pride when you're trapped inside a slowly sinking ship.
Scooped up the liquid deep and green and the whole town took a sail.
Fever went away and the very next day the skies again were blue.
Let's thank old Hattie for saving our town.
We'll fetch it from the Black Bayou.
Party of ten of the town's best men headed for Hattie's shack.
Said swamp witch magic was useful and good and they're gonna bring Hattie back.
Never found Hattie and they never found the shack.
They never made a trip back in.
Cause a parchment note they found tacked to a stump said don't come looking again.
I'm out.
We'll see you next time.
like the Cyclops in 1918, or appear to be haunted, like the Ivan Vassili in 1905, To mystery airships of the 19th century, the earliest UFO sightings.
Then there's the story of the devil's footprints.
There's all kinds of neat murders and so forth and so on.
But the problem is that most of these pieces are too long and also that they come from the time before about 1994 when people were still required to read a block of text for content, even on the internet.
Remember, even our early internet stuff used to be all text.
It's only been moving pictures of various kinds for the last 10 or 12 years.
But the fact...
The fact is that most of these Aryan history pieces were not meant to be spoken aloud.
They were meant to be read and absorbed by literate people who had not yet lost the ability to think about what they were reading.
This is probably one of the reasons my novels haven't caught on any more than they have done.
They consist of long blocks of text with no pictures, and most white people under the age of 25 or so can't read without the text hurting their eyes and hurting their heads.
If anyone can ever succeed in making a movie or a comic book or some kind of animation out of them so white kids can see pictures instead of having to read, then we'll take off.
Anyway, I think I found one of these more paranormal Aryan history series articles that will read out reasonably well.
And it's also one of my favorites in the whole series, because this is one of those cases that is just plain weird.
You read this over, and you have to wonder just what the hell happened on that dark night 213 years ago.
And the more you think about it, the more you realize that you're never going to know.
Now, if you're a real Aryan with that truth-seeking gene in your makeup, then that bugs the shit out of you.
This is called The Case of the Vanishing Diplomat.
On a cold and snowy day, November 25, 1809, 25-year-old diplomat Benjamin Bathurst, his secretary and his valet, stopped at an inn at midday in Pearlburg, a small town in the Rhineland.
They stopped to eat dinner and to rest their tired coach horses.
They'd been traveling at a great speed from Bathurst's ambassadorial post in Vienna, a post which, for reasons which were never made clear, He seems to have deserted without permission from his superiors in a desperate attempt to get back to England.
While his dinner was being prepared and his horses seen to, Bathurst asked for directions to the commander of the local garrison, one Captain Klitzing.
In Klitzing's office, Bathurst surprised the German officer with a disjointed and not very clear tale about how Napoleon was after him, and he asked for guards to protect him against mysterious pursuers.
Now this was not quite as crazy as it sounded.
The Napoleonic Wars were in full swing, and Pearlburg was near enough to the border of French-occupied territories so that there had been reports of cavalry raids and other French incursions into the district.
Since Prussia and England were allies, and Bathurst had diplomatic credentials, Klitzing obligingly assigned a couple of soldiers to stand guard at the inn.
He later commented that Bathurst seemed petrified with fear, and he got the impression that there was more to the tale than he was being told.
Darkness came early in November, and most travelers would have been content to stay the night at the inn, but Bathurst insisted on pressing on to his destination, which was Hamburg, where he meant to catch a ship for home.
Considering the state of the roads and the time of the year, he must have been genuinely desperate to travel at night.
At about four o 'clock that afternoon, he dismissed his two sentries and impatiently demanded that his coach be provided with fresh horses, which he paid for in cash.
In those days, horses for private coaches could be rented, kind of like today we rent a U-Haul trailer, and dropped off at one of the post-ins further along the way.
There was some delay while Bathurst searched the inn for a fur coat of his that had gone missing, but eventually he gave up on the coat despite the cold weather in his eagerness to leave.
Around five o 'clock at night, Bathurst went out into the now dark but public square, in the dim light of oil lamps on the houses, and also, according to accounts, at least a few streetlights as well, so it was by no means completely black dark.
A light snow was falling.
On being told by his coachman that everything was ready for departure, he walked around the head of the horses to inspect them, and disappeared forever.
His party waited one minute.
Two.
Three.
Five minutes.
From that day to this, no one has a clue what happened to Benjamin Bathurst.
His waiting valet saw nothing, and neither did the coachman, neither did the ostler who had harnessed the horses, or his secretary who was standing in the inn doorway paying the bill, or the soldiers stationed at each end of the street in regular guard boxes.
There were people on the square, which was in the middle of a populated town, and they were passing by all the time, so much that it was useless to try and discover any tracks in the snow.
No one reported seeing anything unusual.
No struggling figures in the snow, no cries for help, zilch, zip, nada, sweet Fanny Adams.
Just a man vanished off the face of the earth.
Captain Klitzing was embarrassed at losing his British diplomat despite being asked for protection.
So he immediately organized a full search of the whole town and sent out the equivalent of an all-points bulletin.
The search went on for days, but only two clues were ever discovered.
Bathurst's missing fur coat was eventually found concealed in the barn of a local ne 'er-do-well named Augustus Schmidt, a young man who had a criminal record for theft, illegal gambling, and burglary.
His mother worked as a charwoman at the inn, and eventually both of them got short prison sentences for stealing the coat, but they always denied having anything to do with Bathurst's appearance.
Eklitzing tried to make a case that Schmidt mugged Bathurst for his heavy purse and somehow made off with a body through the crowded streets, but he could never make it fly.
The Schmitts may well have been telling the truth.
The coat had been missed, and the theft apparently taken place sometime before Bathurst's disappearance.
Even in the dark of a winter night, some guy trundling or dragging a dead body would have been noticed, as well as the crime itself witnessed.
About two weeks after the disappearance, two boys found a pair of trousers lying in a frozen puddle with some papers scattered around.
The trousers were identified as bathhursts, and the papers were inconsequential personal letters and documents, tradesmen's bills from Vienna, etc., etc.
The trousers had two bullet holes in them, but the absence of bloodstains led the authorities to believe that they had been fired through the garment after it had been removed from Bathurst's body.
Klitzing, who had developed an almost obsessive involvement with the hunt for the missing man, was of the firm opinion that the trousers were a red herring meant to mislead the law.
Okay, now you know just about all there is to know about the facts of the case.
Captain Klitzing never got his answers and died a frustrated man.
Benjamin Bathurst was simply gone.
At the time, the British assumed that Napoleon had put the snatch on Bathurst and somehow managed to smuggle the young man to prison or death in French-occupied territory.
Now, this made a certain sense.
Bonaparte could be pretty vindictive, and he had done similar things before, notably the armed abduction of the royalist Duc d 'Inguin, who was captured by a French cavalry troop sent on a kind of commando raid into Germany for the purpose.
The Duke was dragged back to France and stood in front of a firing squad.
But why?
Bathurst was a diplomat attached to the embassy in Vienna, but his security clearance, as we would say today, wasn't all that high.
He was part of the larger embassy staff.
Bathurst had been part of a British mission that had persuaded the Austrians to declare war on France.
The Austrians had gotten their asses kicked for their trouble and had just been forced to sign a humiliating peace.
Napoleon had already won.
Would he still be peeved at Bathurst, and if so, why Bathurst in particular?
Bathurst was not solely responsible for the declaration of war, and there is no evidence that the French emperor bore him any particular grudge.
Could Bathurst have been a Regency James Bond engaging in espionage work of his own, and were those tracking him from French counterintelligence?
Possibly, but no evidence of anything of the kind has ever been turned up, and the British government denied that this was the case.
Napoleon himself always denied that he had anything to do with Bathurst's disappearance, repeating that denial in a letter he wrote to Bathurst's mother before he went to his final exile in St. Helena.
If Bathurst was abducted by French agents, how had they done it in the middle of town, in a public square with people and soldiers all around?
Silently so as not to alarm the horses or Bathurst's own party not fifteen feet away and gotten away with their target, either dead or alive, without anyone seeing anything.
What exactly was Bathurst so afraid of?
Everyone who met him on that last journey remarked that he seemed nervous, agitated, preoccupied, and he admitted that he was afraid of mysterious parties who were out to get him.
The story about Napoleon may have been a blind.
Could it have been a jealous husband?
Creditors?
Some bizarre Masonic conspiracy?
Space aliens?
The young man must have been unusually level-headed to be a career diplomat at 25, not prone to histrionics or neurosis.
Someone was apparently after Benjamin Bathurst.
Who?
Well, whatever Benjamin Bathurst was afraid of in his last hours on Earth, it got him.
Remember, just because you're paranoid, that don't mean they ain't out to get you.
Back home in the South, we seem to have a lot of haunted swamps.
This is Charlie Daniels.
He never did a lot of harm in the world, but he never did do no good.
People didn't think too much of him, they all thought he acted funny.
The old man didn't care about people anyway, all he cared about was his money.
He'd stuff it all down into mason jars and he'd bury it all around.
And on certain nights, if the wind was right, he'd dig it up out of the ground.
He'd pour it all out on the floor of his shack and run his fingers through it.
Yeah, Lucius Clay was a greedy old man, and that's all there was to it.
But I couldn't believe it.
I just had to find out for myself, and I couldn't conceive it.
Cause I never would listen to nobody else, and I couldn't believe it.
I just had to find out for myself, but there's some things in this world you just can't explain.
The table boys was white trash, and lived over on Carver's Creek.
They were mean as a snake, and sneaky as a cat, and belligerent when they'd speak.
One night, the oldest brother said, y'all meet me in the woolly swamp later.
We'll take old Lucius'money and we'll feed him to the alligators.
They found the old man out in the back with a shovel in his hand.
Thirteen rusty mason jars he just dug up out of the sand.
And they all went crazy and they beat the old man and they picked him up off of the ground.
Threw him in the swamp and stood there and laughed as the black water sucked him down.
Then they turned around and went back to the shag and picked up the money and ran.
They hadn't gone nowhere but they realized they were running in quicksand.
And they struggled and they screamed but they couldn't get away just before they went under.
They could hear that old man laughing and a voice as loud as thunder.
It's been fifty years ago and you can go by there yet.
There's a spot in the yard in the back of that shack where the ground is always wet.
And on the sunny nights if the moon is dry down by that dark footpath.
You can hear three young men screaming.
You can hear one old man laughing.
If you ever go back in the woods one way you better not go at night.
There's things out there in the middle of them would make a strong man die the pride.
Things are crawling, things are flying, things are flying, things are creeping around on the ground.
And they say the growth of the lucious clay gets up and it walks around.
You can hear three young men's eyes.
Good evening, comrades.
I must admit it's a bit of a difficult name to pronounce, but at any rate, I came across this book just recently.
I've decided that this is a very important book because it deals with strategy.
The author is a rather interesting character.
He's lived in Germany during his early life, and then he moved to Iran with his family.
And after going back to Germany as an adult and getting involved with the NPD, which is kind of considered a kind of a rightist party in Germany.
He ends up immigrating to Australia, and a lot of this was from a blog.
Now, he makes a lot of really important points in his book.
I ended up actually taking notes on this one because he has so many interesting ideas.
Now, one of the first ideas that he purports Is that he feels a strong need to stop blaming other people.
There's a lot of propaganda that talks against various groups.
He feels it's important to stop scapegoating.
I think this is a pragmatic decision.
He just says we need to look at ourselves.
And if you think about it, really, you're the only one that you can control yourself.
You can't necessarily control others.
So he says, forget about scapegoating.
And he talks about taking a long view.
He says that at the end of the day, you know, we're always saying these kinds of parties are rightists in some way, but he really says that it's really beyond left and right.
And he actually sees nationalism as a leftist.
Now, one of the things that he talks about is getting involved in the community in terms of things like volunteering.
And the reason he talks about this is because, let's imagine that, and this is assuming that you're open about your views, which is not always the case, but let's assume that you are open and you help someone in some way.
You get involved in a homeless shelter or you build homes for white people who are poor.
Then they're grateful to you.
You get a certain groundswell of community support.
And that sounded really wise.
And he talks about examples such as Hezbollah that have done this.
And consequently, people tend to like them.
He also talks throughout the book about addressing the needs of the middle class, which he says are often ignored.
And I think that's very much true.
He also says the left, or what we call the left traditionally, does not necessarily have to have a handle on environmental issues.
And he says that immigration could actually put too much strain on any given local environment.
He tends to have some criticism of wearing uniforms that invoke the 1930s.
He does feel to a certain degree that the historical National Socialist uniforms really only pertain to Germans and really even then during a certain period in history.
I can somewhat understand this, but of course, I can also understand the inspiration that people can get from that kind of imagery.
And he brings up this theme several times in the book.
He also suggests at one point in the book about how nationalists might try to repackage themselves, at least in a superficial way in terms of dress and in terms of posters, as more leftist or looking more leftist.
And I have somewhat mixed feelings about this.
I think it's very pragmatic.
He also says that if, for example, you went on a street walk, and he still really defies the street walk, but he says that if you look like an NAFTA person, for example, that you're a little bit safer in a riot situation.
I don't think that's likely to be true, although I do have hesitations about this.
Streetwalk.
I'm not sure if it's productive.
And you have to understand, of course, again, that he's writing in terms of Europe and Australia, so that explains a good deal of that.
He talks about young people.
He talks about students and how college students often wish to feel as if they are radicals.
And they want to join a group, but they also want to be nonconformist.
And he says that we need to do more to appeal to students.
We need to look at economic issues that affect students, such as student loans, for example, and say that we might repeal these loans.
Now, of course, you can't really repeal a loan unless...
Unless you have state power.
But at any rate, I think it is correct to talk about student concerns and middle class concerns.
And he says that both the middle class and students were very much pillars of the National Socialist Movement in Germany back in the 30s, for example.
He says that because we haven't been doing these things, we have not appealed to students or the middle class enough.
A lot of that is the reason that we're not more popular.
And he gives an example of leftists, and he says that they have remained more popular than we are because they're always updating their image, or at least more than we tend to.
And he reminds us that in the late teens and twenties, the National Socialists really learned a great deal from leftists.
I would say that's true.
However, on the other hand, I think we do have our own aesthetic.
And I think in a sense we always have had.
Because when I look at the two aesthetics, I would say they're both really distinctive in their own ways.
Even if there is borrowing in some sense.
He says that we're anti-global and we're anti-capitalist and we need to emphasize that.
And that in our own way, we do want to redistribute wealth.
So this idea of the redistribution of wealth isn't necessarily a bad thing.
It just depends on how it's used.
He does favor a very loose organization, and he says that this is what the left does.
They're non-hierarchical, and they're really more of a movement than a party.
And I would say the Northwest Front is doing that.
Then he goes into some other discussions of popular culture, and I'm not really sure those are as important.
He talks about Ebola a bit and different cultural modes.
And then he talks about Tibet, and that is his final essay.
And he says that the Tibetans have been very brave, and he says that in Tibet they have not been as brainwashed as nationalists in the West, and therefore Tibetans are more willing to stand up for themselves, and that we should really all become like Tibetans.
I was really so excited by this book that I really felt that I had to report on it as soon as I possibly could.
So, I really stopped everything as much as I was able to, and read this book within a couple of days, and I would really strongly recommend it, especially the first half of the book.
And I think that it is a very important message to sum up that we're really not just these conservatives.
We shouldn't just put ourselves in a kind of museum of the past.
I know for myself personally, in talking about enshrining the past, I know we all enjoy thinking about or sometimes living in a fantasy world revolving around the past and parts of the past that we would like to somehow revive or relive.
But one of the things that was very helpful for me in my own activism, when I was...
I started listening to a lot of Saga and a lot of Ian Stewart.
And the great thing about that is that when I started listening to all this sort of modern music that I'd never taken an interest in before, because I assumed I wouldn't like it, I came to the conclusion that, or started to feel as if, there was a modernity and a current And future place for my views.
That living in a historical fantasy or trying to live in some sort of recreation or listening to classical music or Wagner or something like that, as nice as it is, the problem is you kind of feel like you're stuck in the past.
And again, there's nothing wrong with classical music or something of that sort.
It's all very lovely.
But when you feel like you're living in some kind of recreation of the past, there's almost a tacit sense that one cannot go forward.
There's really nothing in the future, so why not just live in the past?
And I understand that.
It's understandable if it makes someone feel better and it helps someone to survive psychologically.
But there's a tendency to just not plan and not think about the future.
I started wanting to think more about the future and embrace that, so I definitely went through that phase, and I'm not really listening to that music as much anymore, but...
Still, I think a sense of current and modern really helped me, so I think that his ideas about sort of a revamped look in terms of things like posters and what people might wear, for example, if they did go on a streetwalk, I'm not sure whether that's a good idea or not, but I don't think it really is, because I don't really know what a streetwalk does for anybody, but still.
I think his ideas are very innovative.
And he talks about two potential eras.
He talks about the era of running off into the woods and isolating yourself.
And he talks against the Butler Plan in this respect because he sees the Butler Plan that way.
And I'm not really sure that that's fair to the Butler Plan because, as we know, there's more to the Butler Plan than what he's saying.
The other era that he talks about is believing that you can make it through mainstream politics.
He talks about people that have tried and that have...
Gotten close in some cases, especially in parliamentary governments, but they really never Or
it's not going to self-destruct of its own will.
As far as trying to make the mistake of trying to be mainstream, he says, forget that.
You can't really be mainstream.
So, I think that's correct.
I think it's correct because in a republic, for example, everyone is a republican with a small r, and in a democracy, everyone is a democrat with a small d.
And in a nationalist culture, everyone is a nationalist with a small n.
How should I put it?
I can't really have two conflicting systems at the same time.
Of these two eras, I personally think that trying to be mainstream is a worse era than isolating yourself, frankly, because I think in trying to be mainstream, you waste a lot of energy.
At least that's what I think about it.
So I hope you enjoyed this review, and if I've mispronounced this author's name, I'm sorry, but it's, you know...
At any rate, I would say that this is a very important book, because it does talk about strategy, which a lot of authors don't.
This author is very pragmatic, and he talks about activism in the real world, and he talks about, for example, meetings, communist meetings.
And again, he's talking about mainly Australia.
And he says that confrontation generates press, and he thinks that press, and especially more in the way of good press, is important for generating support.
And he also thinks that if you anger leftists, then you make them look bad.
And again, that's more good press.
So I hope you enjoy my review, and thank you for listening.
Thank you.
This is Waylon Jennings.
Waylon Jennings.
We love her all this life Bought her a mansion on the mountains With a former garden and a lot of land But paradise became her presence That Georgia banker was a jealous man We're
Tomorrow's in paradise He hired a man to tend a garden To keep an eye on her while he was gone Some say they ran away together Some say that gardener left alone Now the banker is an old man
That night since crumbling down Sits all day and stares at the garden Not a trace of her was ever found Every time he talks about her You can see the fire in his eyes He says I would walk
through hell on Sunday To keep my rose in paradise Now there's a rose out in the garden Bye.
that was a fairly long one from Gretchen, and so I'm running long myself at the moment, but at this point I want to take some time and issue a public apology to a young man in Portland named Brian.
Brian recently created a series of Northwest Front postcards of various designs.
About two weeks ago he sent me some samples of these, and I forgot to acknowledge the receipt of these cards until today.
This is one of those increasingly frequent cases where an urgently required acknowledgement for something good that someone's done for the party has simply slipped through the cracks.
I actually had Brian's envelope sitting here on the table beside my computer with a notation marked on it in big black sharpie, acknowledge receipt.
I don't know why I never seem to get around to typing out a 20-second email except to say that I am genuinely not joking about this senility business, guys.
All I can offer by way of excuse is the usual chorus about how I'm doing it all myself now, but don't worry, I'm not going to moan about that anymore.
It is what it is.
And what it is, is that for any foreseeable future, we're all going to have to work around the central fact about our little front here, which is that I have to do everything myself.
It's not a very efficient way to roll, and there are going to be annoying and sometimes inexcusable delays in my responding to things that come in to me by mail and by email.
Brian, if you can shoot me some more of those postcards, I would like to include one sample of each design in the upcoming November Northwest Observer mailing.
They'll need to be here by Halloween though, and yes, I know I should have responded before this if I wanted more.
I get it.
I can be a writer and a radio producer, or I can be an organizer and a clerk.
I cannot be both at once, and when I try to do both jobs at once, like I'm doing now, I can't do either of them well.
Hence, guys laying out time and effort and money to make Northwest Front postcards and not getting an acknowledgement for two weeks.
Brian, again, I apologize.
Well, our time is up, and so that's it 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, 98104.
Or you can go to the party's website at www.northwestfront.org.
This is Harold Covington, and I'll see you next week.