Lately I’ve been playing with a label for myself and certain others, that of the Death Cultist. Death Cult has a cheeky ring to it. Surely it conjures up caricatures of robed men and women sacrificing virgins upon an altar. Maybe it evokes the famous banzai charge of the doomed Nipponese infantryman. What I’m using the term for, however, is quite simple – admiration for the man whose life is lived for death. Not indiscriminate destruction or wanton violence, but the unflinching gaze of someone who accepts death as fact of life. He plans around it.
I’ve worked with the dead in a medical setting. Death has lost its mystique for me. What we really fear is leaving our work incomplete when we exit the stage. An old adage says that if you want something done right you should do it yourself. Delegation isn’t easy by any stretch and few can do it effectively. Managers are paid generously for their ability to let go. Let us master ourselves and learn to trust our own judgement. Let us trust our will to impose upon others long after we depart. Superiority is earned.
The path to becoming a Happy Racist is long, hard, fraught with danger, and packed with clichés. I spent seven years wandering the wastes in order to reach this state. It’s not an achievement, mind you, but a mood (albeit a persistent one). Some guys become frothing haters defined only by the objects of their rage and are transmogrified into counterproductive caricatures. Others are absorbed into conservatism after failed missions to racialize “traditionalists” of varying stripes. Happy Racism will prevent you from being co-opted.
The path to Happy Racism is marked by perspective: namely, where you stand in relationship to White nationalism/advocacy/racialism/theology/etc. One must take it into the core of his being – it becomes an organ. It’s situated somewhere in the thoracic cavity, alongside the organ that produces Thumos. Happy Racism can be your calm little center if you let it. Enough teasing, let’s stop the grinnin’ and drop the linen. I’ll define it for you.
First, mood music:
Hallmarks of the Happy Racist:
- Perspective: accept it, society doesn’t belong to you. You belong nowhere and every extant institution is your committed enemy.
- A Line In The Sand: you lack one. You have nothing to defend, only a society to break into. Defense wears a man down. You’re a roving dissident.
- History: you’re on the right side, even if you lose. Blood determines all. Blood created the environment that shapes the blood. Our very existence belies the severity of these facts.
- Attitude: the rotting megalopolis isn’t a tomb – it’s your playground.
- Fanaticism: let it burn low and slow. You’re a smoldering ember whose ideas seep out into the world. Throwing fireballs everywhere is a premature ejaculation.
- Happiness: is psychological observation. Learn what makes them, and you, tick. Smile at the flaws of man and you’ll become a better man.
- Labels: who needs them? You’re a flake, owing no loyalty to any -ism outside of revolutionary WN.