The Last Taboo Must Come Down

by H.A. Covington

It never ceases to astound me that after three generations of liberal democratic tyranny and right-wing failure, there are still a few holdouts who continue to cling to the idea that some kind of peaceful, non-military, non-violent, and non-inconveniencing solution to the racial and social crisis in America is possible.

Can that. You see, I don't think there is anyone left among you who believes any such thing. Not really. I think every one of you reading this knows I'm right, and the only question is how long you will continue to deceive yourself and others.

I think every one of you knows that no change of any kind will ever be effected with anything that is paper, anything that is electronic (including voting machines), or anything that does not involve the physical removal of the individual human beings who are murdering and poisoning and tyrannizing us.

The Jews and their allies are robbing us of our birthright and robbing us of the fruits of our labors. These people are slandering and vilifying us every day in their controlled media, insulting our culture and our heritage, belittling our moral standards and mocking our religious beliefs. They are allowing their congoid pets to rend and savage our women and children and old people with impunity. They are flooding our country with the human effluent of the Third World. Perverts are pawing our children as they poison their minds in the public schools. teaching our sons to become catamites and teaching our daughters to become whores for dark-skinned savages.

There is only one manly and appropriate response to such an immense wrong, and you all know it. It is the one response that we are not making.

Instead, we are writing articles and sending each other e-mails and erecting web sites, and every once in a long while we'll send ten bucks to David Duke or Harold Covington, and once in a much longer while a few of us still get together, huddled in a tiny band on a street corner, and hold up a few signs while the disgusted Establishment police protect us from the ravening hordes of hundreds and thousands of scum who would tear us to pieces if the cops weren't there, so weak and defenseless are we.

I am not advocating or "inciting" anything here. It would do no good if I were. The chance that there will be any kind of organized or effective White armed resistance in our lifetime appears right now to be non-existent. All we can do is hope that this will change. But in God's name, if we cannot find within ourselves the courage to fight, at least let us remove the taboo on the subject and speak of it!

Speak of armed struggle with wistful longing for an absent lover. Speak of armed struggle with white-hot rage at its absence. Speak of armed struggle with immense sadness and grief at how far we have fallen into the rotted sepulchre that not one single hand has been raised against this horrible evil, beyond the suicidal spasms of madmen and tragic, confused boys.

But speak of it! In any necromancy the invoking ritual must contain the name of the Power to be raised from the dead. Who knows? Maybe if we speak his name often enough, somewhere out in the void, in the inner recesses of what remains of our gene pool, the real Aryan Warrior whom past ages knew and feared and admired will return and chase Buford Furrow from his media-appointed enthronement. Beowulf, Harald Hardraada, John Hawkwood, Dan Breen and Otto Skorzeny are still with us in our blood, locked away in our chromosomes.

The first step to releasing them someday is to acknowledge their presence, and be never afraid to speak their names.