 Six Pence Pub, Blowing Rock, NC, Tuesday, January 7, 2020, evening… He sat at the bar, almost wincing as the fool next to him ignorantly pontificated. What had started as a friendly ‘How ya’ doing, fella?’ had morphed into a boring diatribe about brine and snow. Now the geopolitical malarkey deepened. ‘That thar boy was a murderous thug! He was a-plannin’ mo’ of them em-i-nent attacks. He alreddy dun kilt that thar ‘Murican soldiers and attacked our embassy with his militias. Cain’t have no more hostages from them Irans! Trump had to kill that boy and we dun did it! Ain’t nothing them tarrists can a do bout it now. Ha! But I’d love to see ‘em try. Wouldn’t you, buddy? We whoop they azz!’ His new friend, some fat, balding Boomer, allegedly in town to sell the city road salt, babbled incessantly while pointing to the television news, which featured a dull rehash about a Tweet about the lewd assassination. ‘Excuse me,’ Tom politely interjected, ‘but you’re a fucking idiot. You have no idea what you’re talking about. Please keep your profound stupidity to yourself. Thanks, buddy.’ ‘I dun seen it all on tha news! Hannity, and Limbaugh, and good ole Binny Shapiru!’ the man exclaimed, taken aback as indignation strove against his copious alcohol consumption. ‘Everything you’ve heard, I won’t say read, is a lie,’ Tom instructed. ‘Everything you just blathered out, while it would certainly please the ears of your controllers, is utter horseshit. You wouldn’t know a terrorist from a Saint. Please, do shut up.’ ‘They’se them Irans that dun did the Nine-leven! They blew up Noo York!’ the irate man boomed. ‘Wrong, and wrong,’ Tom corrected. ‘I was on duty the morning Northwoods hit. Just be quiet.’ ‘North in whut woods, now?’ ‘Just hush.’ The obese man sat stunned before his belligerence overcame his shock. ‘You— Well, fuck you, mister! You’se a liberal! I knew it! I sits down and sez to muhself, I hope this feller ain’t no faggot. But shore as the Pope worships Mary, you is! You talks to me like that again and I whoop yo azz, fag! I dun served in Vietnam. The jungle! You probably a draft dodger or somethin’. Lemme tell you whut we dun did to—’ Tom listened for a minute more, grinning and quietly flipping through his phone. When Bubba paused to gasp for air, Tom turned and showed him a picture of Carmyn licking his face at a party. ‘That’s my girlfriend. She’s an actress. You probably used to beat off to her. You know, back when it still worked, I guess.’ The tubby retard, still gasping and now red in the face, turned it up a notch. He most unwisely grabbed Tom’s free arm near the wrist and pulled in closer, imparting some of his beer and garlic-scented breath. ‘Smart azz, huh?! I’m bout reddy ta hit yo purdy mouth, boy!’ Without breaking his concentration on his phone, Tom quickly reverse-gripped the man’s flabby forearm and wrenched hard, cranking his elbow into a painfully awkward wrong-way bend. The man’s squeal was met with a ‘shhhh’ as Tom rolled to another, older picture. He held it up to his buddy’s face. ‘And this is me and General Soleimani, uh, the murderous thug. Back in 2001, in Afghanistan, when we were fighting the Taliban together. Oh, excuse me, fighting them thar tarrists.’ Releasing his grip and still being mostly polite, he tried to explain just a little of the unkind world to the loud drunk: Hotel Romandy, Geneva, Switzerland, Sunday, September 23, 2001, late… A somber, somewhat sinister group of men walked through the terrace seating area outside the conference room, headed towards the bar. Two tarried behind the others, the two most somber and serious-looking characters of the company. It was the admittedly tenuous beginning of a delicate working relationship. On that occasion, without any coordination, they were attired in understated fashion rather than suits or uniforms; both happened to be wearing black leather jackets. Tom thought of some way to soften the mood. He got an idea from glancing at the mountains surrounding the city, now illuminated beautifully by the waxing moon. ‘I’d really like to visit your country properly, General,’ he began slowly. ‘I’d love to ski up north of Tehran. Maybe Darband or Abali, isn’t it?’ Qasem Soleimani was as gracious as he was serious. ‘I myself am more fond of the area even further north, around Alvares, which you may know, is also near to the Caspian. Of course, if all goes—I won’t call it well—you and I could cross the border back into Persia and visit Shirbad. It’s just west of Herat, where we may have some business. Wonderful snows. ‘I know this must feel a little off, Colonel. You’ve been to Iran previously. We have a rather extensive dossier on you. Kill on sight orders, in fact. Uh, those I have, of course, had countermanded for the time being. You know, we missed each other a few years ago. These are, I must admit, better circumstances.’ ‘Have you ever skied in America, General?’ Tom asked while thinking about, almost rueing his last vicious visit to Iran. ‘I had actually looked at the White Mountains. Ages ago, before the Revolution. It was, or would have been, for me at the time, the chance getaway of a young lifetime. A great luxury and potentially a wonderful time. Sadly, it did not happen.’ The man laughed at the faded memory. ‘If I remember right, that’s your, what you call, neck of the woods, no?’ ‘Well, we might have missed each other then too, had the circumstances been different,’ Tom said as he chuckled at the smallness of the world. ‘Maybe some things are best left on the powder.’ ‘Undoubtedly, they are. Now, soon our men will need to— Oh, we’re stopping again.’ Following a few perfunctory words with Crocker and the departing team from State, the pair eased up to the bar, alone for the first time. ‘You’ll need to help me, Mister Ironsides, but Glen-mor-angie—the Scottish is always a jaw-breaker for me.’ The General studied the bottles on the shelf behind the bar, pointing to one. ‘Well, I didn’t know you guys partook of the single malt! Excellent choice though,’ Tom said. ‘I do not, of course. Social settings and good company sometimes require good liquor, if only as the courtesy of a bare taste given to a guest. Allah is merciful, most forgiving at times, and of good causes.’ The General studied the bottle, now brought closer by the attentive bartender. ‘And an interesting choice of words. Jawbreaker is our call sign for the initial operation,’ Tom said while trying to read a label. ‘I know. We’re not so completely in the dark,’ Soleimani said with a smirk. ‘Well then, know that we’ll be inserting, likely on Wednesday night. I’ll be there with my SAD paras and the Deltas. Whom can I expect from your Quds? Maybe someone else who is willing to overlook past indiscretions, I’d hope?’ Tom did look a little hopeful. ‘I should be able to join you and our men later. For now, immediately, look for my—’ The men talked and drank (Tom, Scotch and Qasem, tea) deep into the night. Plans were made, and logistics explored. Soleimani was, as promised, a walking encyclopedia of the terrain, the local tendencies, and the ways of the enemy. They shared multiple strategies and more than a few misgivings. They talked about Hammurabi, Solon, and Caesar. They spoke of family relationships, of children, spouses, and parents. On matters of state and religion, they agreed and they agreed to disagree. A tedious friendship was born. Respect flowed haltingly with a burn like Tom’s whisky. They did, in fact, meet again twice—once soon after in the hills of Afghanistan and once years later in Baghdad during a meeting that Washington denied ever happened. However, they never rendezvoused on the slopes. Even after his retirement, Tom followed his friend’s quest to defeat ISIS in Iran, Iraq, and Syria. A worthy defender of his nation and people, he thought of Soleimani. He’d cursed the administration aloud the week before when he’d heard the news of what he considered plain murder and a despicable war crime. Back in Blowing Rock… ‘So, just shut up about it, already,’ Tom said at last. He was finished with his unheeded educational lecture and was now checking his email and something else. His new friend still didn’t grasp any of what he’d heard. ‘All that thar tells me is that you is one a them tarrists! And whut do you know, you lying shit?!’ the dim visitor demanded. ‘I know the shit is already hitting the fan,’ Tom said as he again presented his phone. ‘Watch this.’ ‘Whut in tha hell that is?!’ ‘That is live satellite feed from over Iraq, over Ain al-Asad Air Base. You said you’d love to see them try. Well, they’re trying right now. The news up there will have it in an hour or so once Langley puts the right spin on it. Watch now if you’d like the uncensored version.’ ‘Whut am I a-watchin’??’ the tubby man growled as he squinted at the little screen. ‘Those flashes are missile impacts. Probably Qiams or Fatehs. Latest generation guidance. Extremely accurate. Pinpoint, I’d say. Right now, every time one flashes, they’re hitting our hardware. I’d guess they’re knocking out the drone hangers, the smaller ones clumped here and there, center. That base is where the strike came from last week. Makes sense. What I would do.’ ‘Whut you’d do?! I know you. You’se a Democrat or something! Love nuthin’ better than helpin’ yo tarrists friends, huh? Stand up! I’m bout to beat some sense into yo liberal azz!’ ‘No, you’re not,’ Tom said, looking down at his glass. ‘I’m a-gonna do it! You’se a big boy, but ima spank ya!’ ‘No. You can’t. Sorry.’ ‘And, YOU’RE DONE, sir!’ yelled the pretty bartender at the heavy, sweaty, woefully-overmatched moron. ‘You don’t know what you’re messing with, with this one.’ She gave Tom, who was unconcernedly addressing his Oban, a wink. To the fat drunk, she instructed: ‘Before you get yourself killed, get out! Don’t come back. Now!’ Tubby mumbled something about a town full of queers and sympathizers and shuffled angrily out into the light evening snow. ‘That fat bastard didn’t even leave a tip!’ the barmaid announced with a hint of regret. ‘I got it. Mine too, in a minute,’ Tom replied. ‘So, professor, is this World War Three?’ the young woman asked with slight concern in her voice. ‘No. Don’t be too alarmed, darling. It’ll all blow over, for now,’ Tom reassured. ‘It’s not a world war unless something utterly stupid gives way between now and morning. This was a very measured response. Making a point or two. They’ll be done in a few minutes, although CENTCOM just registered something odd on domestic air radar around Tehran. Probably nothing. The missiles are a show of force, directed at our equipment, not our men. Neither has any business being in-country anyway. Maybe this is the beginning of a withdrawal. Hell, I’ll have my last toast to that. That, and Qasem. Maybe not the best man in the work he and I did—none of us were—but, then again, maybe he was. Better than me, and maybe the one his people needed. A legend and a martyr. Salute!’ After paying off his tab and leaving two tips, Tom mosied outside. From the sidewalk on Main, he heard the old jungle fighter yelling incoherently from down the street. ‘Gotta give that one credit for persistence,’ Tom thought as he raised a one-fingered salute over his shoulder. Next, he heard a city police officer ordering the old drunk off. He slowly walked on towards his modest rental flat as he admired his little piece of New England drifted so far south. It was getting cold. His phone rang. Carmyn was watching the breaking news. He soothed her nerves and thanked her for a previous lick while requesting another at her earliest convenience. Just before he reached his door, Vicky called. He was calming her fears as he walked into the living room, where Ari and Maddie were waiting with the television blaring. Upon hanging up, he directed his placidity to them, first asking them to turn off the tube. ‘Uncle Tommy, do you know what’s going on?’ Ari pressed. ‘Yes. That foolishness on the talking screen is only more propaganda bullshit. Some ancient Greek once said, Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad. Some say it was Euripides, though I’m not so sure. Anyway, watch that stuff and you will go as mad as your orange president and the rest of them. What it was designed for. Maybe Qasem was mad to go in like he did, to keep this up for so long. No, we’ve all got enough madness as-is.’ ‘What are you talking about, Tom?’ Maddie asked as she turned off the set. ‘We know you have to know A LOT about what’s behind all this.’ Tom was tired and tried to move towards his room, several wistful thoughts plaguing his mind. ‘Goodnight, girls. Of the business behind it all, I know more than I care to repeat this evening. Respect for the dead.’ *Author’s Note, January 2025: I originally wrote and released this short story in January 2020. It has been refined a little for this edition though the gist remains intact. My apologies to the Soleimani family and their friends for certain liberties I took. Now as then, Tom and a typical Murikan man discuss Iran’s successful Operation Martyr Soleimani as it takes place. A brief recount of a fictional clandestine working relationship is also presented. I was reminded of the tale when I read of commemorations in Iran on the fifth anniversary of the good General’s martyrdom and murder at the hands of the Yankee empire. Out of respect for the dead, I highly recommend reading Martyr Soleimani’s Will. Many typical Murikans might not like that, as they didn’t like my story when it first debuted. One wonders if they like the Takfiri terrorism once fought by Soleimani as it is now visited upon them in the US (along with, evidently, concurrent Banderaite Nazi violence). One is forced to wonder a lot about Murikans.
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 I remember, not quite like it was yesterday, walking and standing in the Mississippi National Guard Armory in November 1980. I suppose I was physically present for something similar in 1977, but I really can’t remember that as yesterday or any day. But at the time, in the fall of ‘80, I was a little too young to vote. Mom and Dad, however, were of age, and they both voted to reelect the South’s man, a Georgia peanut farmer nicknamed Jimmah. James Earl Carter, Jr. was the 39th US President, in office from 1977 until 1981. On Sunday, December 29, 2024, he died at the age of 100. No doubt, many of you already knew that before you made it here to my make-shift column. And most of you have probably formed your opinions about Carter, his life, and the legacy of his administration. Some say, or, rather, many say, that he was a much better ex-president than an in-office chief executive. Personally, I lean that way, though my understanding of Carter, the US, and geopolitical history might be slightly outside the norm. It is my opinion that many of Carter’s policies, domestic and foreign, were misdirected, ill-conceived, or plain ruined by the then-developing Deep State. See, for example, the works of Zbigniew Brzezinski. It is also my opinion that Carter was the final “real” American president who genuinely had the best interests of the American people in his mind and heart. Following his 1980 defeat to Reagan, the office, like almost all others of any importance, has since been held by some shade of Clown World agent. As I’m typing this one out, much is being made of con man Donaldo Trumpster’s coming second take on the idea of “America First”. I would say it looks less like America first, or second, or even last, and most like America never. To wit: the Trump has assembled a cast of gutter clowns that appears to be 99.7% NON-American. One of these foreign invaders, speaking about bringing in even more foreign invaders, told the MAGA brigade to “Take a big step back and FUCK YOURSELF in the face.” In the face, no less… Jimmah was a lot of things, but no one would have ever conceived of such wicked stupidity blasted at heritage Americans on his watch. As I’ve noted before, Carter was the only American president I ever met. I found him and Mrs. Rosalynn to be among the very highest and best kind of people available. For the short time longer that it lasts as a semi-unified political entity, the United States will not see Carter’s type again. The good and true former First Lady died last November. The best part of this story will be the reunion of these two lovers, married since 1946. Mike Luckovich’s late AJC cartoon sums up the reunion nicely. So, thank you, Mr. President, for all you did, in and out of office, and for the honor of our brief acquaintance. Godspeed, Jimmah! Requiescat in pace. Deo vindice. This piece was published at Perrin Lovett on January 3, 2025.
 Arm in arm, they took their leave of the seventy-six statues of the Ploshchad Revolyutsii metro station. They’d not long left the Catholic Church and a Western Christmas mass. Now their plan was to walk down to Red Square and enjoy the various winter and Orthodox pre-Christmas evening festivities. As they began to stroll under the lights over Nikolskaya Street, Pericles adjusted his new fur Cossack hat from Blackglama, a Christmas gift from Julia, and said to her, ‘That was really great. Almost a daily occurrence in these stations, eh?’ ‘Just about,’ she said. ‘All subways should have a little live classical music from time to time. A little Schubert is good for the soul.’ ‘Great, but we can’t really dance to it. I ride the system as much for cutting rugs with you as for transportation. You know me,’ he said, hitting on one of their inside jokes. Then he sang to her in silly fashion, ‘...Oh, my love, since we pay. Somewhere in the dark, I’m always dancing with you on a Moscow train.’ When they stopped laughing, she held tight to his arm and said, ‘Always a good time, and I love your version. I loved the real song when I first heard it. She released it the year I was born! Almost like it was for me.’ ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I was in high school at the time. Thanks.’ ‘I just had a great thought!’ she said happily. ‘Tell me the little story about the Christmas bird in the Georgia mountains, my love! And it was your Georgia, right? Not ours?’ ‘Correct,’ he said. ‘A true story from the Blue Ridge back in the good old State of Georgia, CW of A. And I’m not sure if it’s a Christmas story, though it certainly involves a bird. Someone was supposed to write it up, but that’s been delayed like so many things. Heck, we’ll just say it was set around Christmas, say, back in 1983. How’s that?’ ‘Perfect,’ she said. ‘Far enough away so that imagination can artfully fill in any blanks the memory leaves open. But what kind of bird was it?’ ‘That would be the charming Whip-poor-will,’ he said. ‘It makes that exact sound, the sound of its name. And it makes it constantly. But I never found it to be a melancholy bird as some do. From Washington Irving to H.P. Lovecraft to Steven King, everyone says that it represents horror, death, or anxiety. And they might, under certain circumstances, have a point about the anxiety the bird can induce with all of his singing, especially at night. Long, long ago, Thoreau noted, The Whip-poor-wills now begin to sing in earnest about half an hour before sunrise, as if making haste to improve the short time that is left them. He astutely noted the melodious night birds sang the evening away with an encore performance just before dawn. One such little feathered voice of my acquaintance once strove to weave a never-ending concert of notes, in defiance of scheduling, custom, and even the efforts of some to shorten his time. I think they normally get busy in the autumn or summer, but I’m sticking to the Christmas theme here.’ ‘Christmas, Gregorian calendar, 1983?’ she clarified. ‘Yes. To make this a Christmas story, I’m now dead set on it happening in December of ‘83, just outside Blairsville, Georgia,’ he said. ‘You see, my grandparents—we called them Granny and Pa—my mother’s parents, retired and bought a little cabin up in the mountains, a very nice place. Kind of like a village in the Urals here. You’d like it. We used to go visit them from Mississippi every chance we had. And one year, we kept hearing all these rumors, mostly from Granny, about a troublesome Whip-poor-will. She claimed it sang and whipped day and night, especially at night, and wouldn’t give her a break. It was a little funny, but I got the idea mom thought it was driving Granny crazy. Anyway, we were aware of the bird. And, anyway, we made our way over for, again, a Christmas getaway.’ ‘Was that a long trip? By car?’ she asked. ‘It sure seemed like it at the time,’ he said. ‘And, yes, by car; it was maybe an eight-hour drive. The speed limits were artificially low back then and many of the roads were two-lane and narrow. And so forth. But it was always worth the time and travel. So on that trip, we arrived and had our normal good time. I can’t recall if any cousins or anyone else joined us that year. Sometimes they did, other times not. Nothing out of the ordinary jumps out in my memory. I’m sure Granny carried on about her singing friend, and maybe I initially heard him once or twice, but I really can’t say. But I did unmistakably hear something one night. ‘It was late and I think I was already asleep. That might have meant the couch or a sleeping bag, but I just can’t remember. What has stuck in my mind were the shotgun blasts, two of them. Like everyone else, I was awakened in the night by BAM, BAM! Two shots were fired near at hand. Everyone jumped up in alarm. Daddy and Pa were running around trying to figure out what had happened. This was, and is even now a very quiet area. One hears the infrequent gunshot during the day sometimes, particularly during fall and hunting season, but generally not in the dead of night. But we then rapidly figured out what was going on. The front door was open a tad and we could all hear Granny outside cussing and yelling. ‘It appears that her friend came calling that night and she had enough and went out to confront him. We found her in the front yard, up the hill a short distance, looking up at the roof, cussing some more, and holding her four-ten-bore shotgun, a double-barrel model that rarely left her side. She claimed she’d gone out and caught a glimpse of the offending Whip-poor-will up on the ridge of the roof, silhouetted in the moonlight. And not being able to stand his harassment anymore, she let him have both barrels. At the time, the results of her actions hadn’t made her too happy, and Pa was far from elated. He walked around, looking at the ground. There was no dead bird, and no feathers, but he did see several bits and pieces of shingles lying around. Everything calmed down a bit after that scene and we got Granny back in the house. I think we were talking about finally going back to sleep, and all was quiet once again. Then from outside, we heard, Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will! He was a fervent little fellow and not the least bit perturbed by the night’s shocking events. It’s funny looking back at it all now.’ They were now walking next to the skating rink on the Square. After a period of silence between them, she said, ‘And then what?’ ‘What?’ ‘What happened next? How did the story end?’ ‘That was it,’ he said. ‘All I can remember. I think the bird won, and I can’t ever recall hearing more about him. Nothing else slowed down that Christmas, or the one after, or, really, any of them going forward. How’s that?’ ‘Well, it was a funny tale,’ she said. ‘But it’s not the normal kind of Christmas story one thinks about!’ ‘I never said it was normal,’ he said. ‘Hey, wanna skate a bit, or get a drink and walk the sights? Or how about some GUM shopping?’ ‘Anything in particular at GUM?’ she asked, her interest piqued. ‘Well, there’s something, a gift for someone for the Seventh or New Years. I really need her to try it on for size and then act like it’s a surprise when I give it to her later,’ he said. ‘Would it be something to compliment our hats?’ she asked. ‘It just might be!’ he said. ‘Ooo,’ she said, now rather excited. ‘Then let’s grab the drinks, walk for a minute, and then go in for sizing! I’ll let you skip the embarrassment of skating since you’ve been a good boy.’ She was now pulling him forward by his hand. ‘An excellent plan! Lead the way, darling,’ he said, thinking he’d had the last word of the hour. It turns out that he did not. For as they approached the first vendor’s stand for drinks, somewhere high above the din of the crowd, and most out of place in the central city, there came a lone, shrill cry: ‘Whip-poor-will!’ Of course, giving the little bird the benefit of the doubt, that probably meant Merry Christmas!  For at least a little while longer, I exist in a literal swamp. The area being graced with high temperatures, surrounded and permeated by water, and with ample living and decomposing plant matter, it is little wonder that legions of snails also make their home here with me. I’m not complaining as I find these small gastropods among the more pleasant residents of my marshland. A world away, President Xi Jinping of China just released an update on his country’s path forward into the future. The reader may find this statement in the Qiushi Journal. Xi continued his approach of reconsidering Marxism as the founding ideology of the CPC while reinforcing and embracing traditional Chinese culture and heritage. All of this, he says, is fundamental in breaking new ground as the 21st century unfolds.
“Socialism with Chinese Characteristics” is a hallmark of Xi-ism, a refinement of the continuously altered “communist” system which has seen China blossom from a forgotten backwater into the world’s largest and most dynamic economy, all while maintaining strict Chinese identity in a world gone mad with generic homogenization. For the FOX “News” watchers and other illiterate morons, no, I’m not pushing any particular ism. Where and when I exist, all isms are essentially dead and meaningless. And it’s not about me anyway. Instead, I’m merely observing what has been proven to work in reality. Xiism is as different from Dengism as Dengism was from Maoism and Maoism was from Leninism or theoretical Marxism. What Xi is driving at here, building on his pre-existing successes, is a form of the Chinese enactment of Professor Dugin’s Fourth Political Theory.
As Dugin’s theory is universally applicable, it might be interesting to see if other nations or societies might also benefit from something akin to China’s process of blending tradition with innovation. As my audience is largely split between fading America and the soaring multipolar world, centered in my home away from hell, Russia, I thought it appropriate to briefly look at those two different civilizational states (and, yes, I’m being most charitable concerning America and civilization). Russia, it turns out, is about as far along the road as China, if not further along. In fact, Beijing’s proposal to modernize China’s philosophical and social sciences in keeping with Chinese tradition looks quite similar to Dugin’s in-progress work based out of RSUH. In virtually all areas Russia and China take the lead among the BRICS+ alliance in moving past the satanic world disorder foisted on mankind by the West. America on the other hand is a failed nation within a dying country trapped by its own foreign-controlled collapsing empire. While it is possible that real Americans might be able to return to their roots, so to speak, while forging a new and better future for themselves and any children they might have, whether they want to do so remains to be seen. Such a transition would require them to rediscover who they are, where they came from, what has happened to Western civilization over the past five hundred years, and who led them astray. This would require honest thinking, a skill Americans typically shun in the increasingly rare cases where it is a possibility. Rather, it would appear that most Americans, even those vaguely aware that something is wrong, prefer wishful and facetious thinking, denial, obesity, and voting in fake elections for a never-ending assortment of homosexuals, retards, usury-mongers, and bloodthirsty lunatics, all of whom hate Americans with a raging passion gifted to them by their father, the fallen lord of this world. Regardless of how bad things get, in the end, some Americans will survive and they will rebuild. There’s a small glimmer of hope in their future if they’re willing to fight for it. I have no real idea (nor much concern) how many Americans can or will fight, or even attempt to understand. My snails inspire more confidence. But I take solace in knowing my friends in Lebanon, Brazil, South Africa, China, and Russia (у вас есть место еще для одного!) not only know but are deep into the processes of betterment, prosperity, and peaceable happiness. That’s a miracle in and of itself! Deo vindice.  I originally envisioned this article as a review of five semi-randomly selected books by esteemed Russian Professor Alexander Dugin. However, as my experience with mass surveys has sometimes proven murky, with me feeling like I give short shrift to someone or some part of the analysis, I decided to take a slightly different approach. Accordingly, herein I strongly recommend a set of books by Dugin, about Dugin, or associated with Dugin. After a brief discussion of theories, I then focus on one particular work, The Great Awakening vs. The Great Reset, a book that centers on more actionable facets of (post)modern life and society. Many people, especially people in the West, like hands-on orientation and examples. While the particular project is of a distinctly Russian character, it concerns a universal necessity, thus making it of inspirational interest to many parties worldwide. I think it would be most valuable to consider what’s going on in Moscow if one wants to enbetter similar systems elsewhere. The five Dugin books are The Fourth Political Theory, The Rise Of The Fourth Political Theory, Political Platonism, Ethnosociology, and The Great Awakening vs. The Great Reset. All of my citations herein come from the EPUB digital editions as published by Arktos; a full bibliography follows at the end. I was tempted to include at least one book or argument critical of Dugin, but I found most of them to be disingenuous at best. The fact the Professor and his voluminous works are banned from Amazon tells those within and without the West all they really need to know. There is a reason why Dugin has been targeted with sanctions and worse: the Western globalist elites fear him. But why? Anyone who has watched his interviews with Tucker Carlson, Larry Johnson, or other journalists is left with the impression of a rational, pleasant, and ordinary man, albeit one gifted with extraordinary intelligence, intellectual capacity, and the willingness to use his ideas for the greater good. Therein lies the answer: the rulers of the West, being forever at war with God and man, cannot abide honest ideas or any pursuit of the truth. Dugin And The Fourth Political TheoryAlexander Dugin, PhD, aka, the Philosopher, is a doctor of philosophy, sociology, and political science. The author of dozens of books, and the speaker of perhaps as many languages, he currently serves, among other capacities, as Director of the Ivan Ilyin Higher Political School at Moscow’s Russian State University for the Humanities. Yes, the center’s name has stirred minor controversy. Dugin has been known to make a few waves—the stern delight of traditionalists, horror for liberals. He is the father of Daria Dugina. He is a Russian institution and a global figure—both feared and sought after. He is also a man unusually capable of using his extraordinary talent for the betterment of mankind and the Glory of God. Dugin is renowned as a philosopher, a theoretician, and a thinker. Not infrequently, such men are sometimes criticized for having, as we call it, a “pie in the sky” vision. Yet, as demonstrated herein, Dugin puts his ideas into common practice and thereby brings them to life. Many are the misconceptions about Dugin and his work, many of them intentional, demeaning, and deceptive. For instance, he is repeatedly referred to by the Western establishment as “Putin’s brain” or “Putin’s Rasputin” (usually by people who couldn’t tell the difference between Grigori and Valentin). Vladimir Putin is obviously gifted with great intelligence, as are the people in his administration. The concurrence of Dugin’s ideas and the direction of twenty-first century Russia is an interesting phenomenon. Whether his notions become general policy or if there is merely a commonality of interest and intent, it is undeniable he is at least helping shape public perception and policy. Herein, I will examine in more detail one such policy example concerning higher education. Many people, particularly those whose traditions have been hijacked or muted by modernity, have fallen into the trap of expediency and simplicity, looking, essentially, for easy answers and turn-key solutions. There are solutions, and Dugin provides a roadmap to them, but they and their application vary according to the problem and the society or nation where the problem manifests. In this regard, or in answer to these kinds of misgivings, utilizing Dugin’s Fourth Political Theory might be well analogized to selecting the proper wrench for the adjustment of a particular mechanical part. With socio-political issues, the application of the Theory will necessitate consideration of the special needs and traditions of the subject society. The beauty of the tie-in concept of multipolarity is that it allows each civilization to assert itself independently—in contravention of the liberal, globalist West’s current one-size (fits none) mandate—in accordance with those needs and traditions. What works for Russia might be slightly different than what works for Iran or China. What works in those three civilizational states might be different from what is needed in Europe, Brasil, or South Africa. Dugin’s roadmap is valuable as it allows, via theoretical and practical political reorientation, a chance for the rediscovery of tradition and character, things that may have been lost or hidden in certain cultures. But just like selecting a wrench and using it, the process of turning political theory into practice requires commitment and effort. Multipolarity is the opposite of the failed unipolar world domination by the United States and the Western liberal, financial capitalist, democratic system that emerged, in full, after World War Two, and that haughtily posited itself as “the end of history” after the dissolution of the Soviet Union and the end of bipolar era. Multipolarity or, rather, multipolarization, is already underway, essentially becoming a bifurcation of the world into the West and the Rest. The Western globalist model is the fulfillment of the first political theory, Liberalism. Communism was the second theory, Fascism the third. The subject or main principle of Liberalism is the individual. While the idea has a certain libertarian appeal, it is and was a trap that allowed the atomization of man and his subsequent enslavement and torture. (You’re different. Just like everyone else. Now get in the cage…) The subject of Communism was class and the subject of Fascism, depending on who implemented it, was the nation-state or race. Liberalism defeated Fascism in 1945 and Communism, for all intents and purposes, in 1991. Now Liberalism's time is up, at least for those who see through its dead Enlightenment ideology of control, slavery, and death. As Dugin writes of his own country’s experience, “...Russia needs a new political idea. For Russia, liberalism does not fit, but communism and fascism are equally unacceptable. Consequently, we need a Fourth Political Theory.” Dugin, Alexander, The Fourth Political Theory, London: Arktos, 2012/2018, p. 8, EPUB edition. Dugin’s Fourth Theory may be summarized as a rebellion against Liberalism, its “enlightened” modernity, and the underlying anti-human satanism at its heart. Here, for Western, especially American, readers, “liberalism” is discussed in the macro sense, about that hideous progressive development since the eighteenth century (with, of course, older roots). It encompasses what Americans consider Democrat-left liberals, Republican-right conservatives, and even libertarians. Most politically minded people in the West operate under some assumption of macro liberalism. This is why the wise minority among them now shun the conservative label, instead merely calling themselves traditionalists or something similar. Russian conservatives, some of them, get a pass as they are, in fact, truly concerned about preserving tradition and have actually conserved it. The Fourth Theory is a grand return to tradition, a concept that is different within each culture. The new principle or subject is society-focused Dasein, the German term popularized by philosopher Martin Heidegger meaning existence or total, holistic being. Dasein is a uniquely human abstraction that integrates the individual with his society, encompassing all relevant areas of life and culture. This is the polar opposite of Liberalism, which ultimately seeks to replace human existence, literally destroying humanity. The Fourth Theory merges, replaces, and overcomes as necessary the subjects of the previous theories. A brief outline of the Fourth Theory, taken by Dugin from his book, may be read in the Arktos Journal. A continuous working exposition of the Theory may be found on Dugin’s Fourth Political Theory website.
Much or even most of the world appears ready for new possibilities. Writing in April 2024 on his Dzen account about late martial developments the world over, and what they portend for the future, Dugin noted, “...the world will already be irreversibly multipolar.” It probably is now, with or without champagne. Dugin’s Rise of the Fourth Political Theory focuses more on the present and future of Eurasian existence through, naturally, a somewhat Russo-centric lens. Therein he continues to dismantle Western Liberalism, challenges it, and asserts the unique virtues of differing values not necessarily in line with, or under the thumb of those of the liberal globalists.
Whether it was a pre-existing Western plan for the next phase of “universal” progress, or whether it was a tactical reaction against the bubbling global uprising of indignation, the scheme of the so-called Great Reset became patently obvious over the past decade or so. The adversaries of mankind literally and openly admit their intentions for the rest of us. “You’ll own nothing and be happy,” is a real quote taken from a 2016 World Economic Forum video presentation. More accurately stated, we’ll own nothing, have nothing, and be nothing, and they will be happy. It would represent a great reset to absolute, miserable dystopia. This is beyond madness; it is pure evil. But the people of the world, bless them, are not so easily corralled and culled. “The Great Awakening is the spontaneous response of the human masses to the Great Reset.” Dugin, Alexander, The Great Awakening vs. The Great Reset, London: Arktos, 2021, p. 22. In this short, very readable, and action-inspiring work, Dugin early on explains the nature of the Great Reset:
In explaining the rising counter force against this dark vision for humanity’s future, Dugin notes, on page 20, that too many ordinary people the world over “have suddenly realised, like cattle before the slaughterhouse, that their fate has already been decided by their rulers and that there is no more room for people in the future.” It is not an exaggeration to claim or notice that the elites and the demons behind them do not want human beings anymore. Or, at least, they do not want beings still in touch with their human nature. In addition to bolstering their power over others, they seek to ruin and claim souls for their master below. “The Great Awakening against the Great Reset is humanity’s revolt against the ruling liberal elites. Moreover, it is the rebellion of man against his age-old enemy, the enemy of the human race itself.” Id., p. 22 Brief yet excellent attention is paid to how different groups are fighting back in different ways. The reader should remember this was written in 2021, before Russia began its military retaliation against the NATO Nazis, before the rise of the BRICS+ alliance became obvious to many, and before the hideous genocide in Gaza caused many more to critically rethink their world. Things are changing fast. But as usual, Dugin is ahead of the curve. And even when he’s not necessarily out front, he synthesizes, organizes, and labels various phenomena so as to give them clarity and a greater sense of applicability. He then delves deeper into the mission, strengths, and needs of his Russia:
In the Appendixes one finds a section, “Theoretical Principles of the Great Awakening (Based on the Fourth Political Theory),” which lists twenty-one points of both theory and action. Point Fifteen concerns the “new educational project”:
Point Sixteen lists three types of people addressed by the proposed education reforms, three kinds of students in need of liberation from the prevailing liberal madness: 1) the philosophically inclined minority; 2) the political elites, activists, and warriors; and, 3) the majority of mankind, the good, ordinary countrymen and women. While the approaches for reaching and salvaging each type are necessarily presented in a broad brush fashion, the strokes paint a good and reasoned methodology, along with repeated specific justification for reform. All of it is a clarion call to dispense with liberal, anti-human indoctrination and corruption. My discussion continues with the first type Dugin seeks to reach, the “philosophers of the world.” As-is, they are generally starved for true tradition, philosophy, and education.
As for the sad proxy that passes for education in the West, I assert Dugin is 110% correct that what is currently offered is hollow and lacking at best. Liberals have succeeded in destroying just about everything of value. Most American schools, long devoid of Latin and Greek, are now losing English literacy and basic numeracy. Any fundamental understanding of grammar, logic, rhetoric, and mathematics has largely departed the schools at virtually all levels. The West might benefit from emulating or, at least, studying any successful reformation in Russia. By chance, Professor Dugin is ahead of this curve too. Russian Higher Education ReformUnder President Vladimir Putin, the Russian Federation, society-wide, is being reconstructed to place utmost emphasis on families and children. Children are, of course, the driving factor in determining whether any nation will continue to exist. Excellent education, as excellent as possible, is critical in making their lives better, more liveable, and more beneficial for them and their society. This year, in May, Leonid Savin penned a great article at Pogled about Russian intellectual standards and calls for refinement in keeping with Russian tradition and sovereignty. He pointed out that during the 1990s, under Western interference, existing Russian structures and curricula lost meaning, being replaced with debased nonsense. Savin also noted Dugin’s work as head of the new (as of 2023) Ivan Ilyin Higher Political School, Training and Scientific Center, at the Russian State University for the Humanities (RSUH). The Center’s purpose is “the development and implementation of a new approach (a new socio-humanitarian paradigm) to the domestic teaching of humanitarian and social disciplines, aimed at the formation of the worldview of students based on the Russian civilizational identity and traditional Russian spiritual and moral values.” In January, Dugin remarked at RSUH’s Transformation of Humanitarian Education Seminar, “There has been a catastrophic degradation in Western historical science. .... This is evidenced by gender problems, postmodernism, and ultra-liberalism. We can study the West, but not as the ultimate universal truth. We need to focus on our own Russian development model.” It appears work is underway toward the needed restoration. In July, writing in the Arktos Journal, Dugin boldly proclaimed:
Dugin also had ardent support for his tradition-based educational ideas, and, I suspect, more than a little input, from his beloved daughter Daria:
I Wonder: Things To Consider?It appears to me that the new Center and Ilyin School fulfill part of Dugin’s twenty-one points from The Great Awakening vs. The Great Reset, perhaps especially pertaining to the philosophical class or, as he calls them, the “Brahmans.” Earlier this year, speaking at the Cathedral of Christ the Savior, he described the liberal infiltration in social education as a “total occupation.” I wonder about specific developments or achievements in dislodging the occupation, asking, does the Center develop new curricula and standards, (re)educate educators, or both? If my understanding is correct, Russian military education is already of very high quality and effectiveness. Still, I wonder if there is a similar effort underway concerning the second “warrior” class, as well as the third category, the countrymen. RSUH’s main website asserts: “International cooperation is an important part of the internationalization strategy at RSUH. It is aimed at strengthening the university's competitive ability in Russia and abroad and its integration into the global education and research space.” I wonder if the meaning of this statement has changed, or will change, with the departure from the Bologna/Western system and perhaps a greater embrace of BRICS+ countries and the Global South. Concerning President Putin’s Decree No. 702, on the admission of oppressed traditionalists into the Federation, I wonder if anyone has foreseen a near or long-term increase in Western student participation in Russian college education. And, if so, does anyone foresee any related challenges? I understand that Russia’s economy is substantially different from America’s. Yet in America, loans for college education contributed to the mass financialization of the US economy from roughly 1950 to the present, including ridiculous increases in tuition prices (~10,000%). One effect of the US loans is that they inhibit family development (which we know is of critical importance in Russia). I was surprised to read this article from Moscow One about the potential development of such loans in Russia. I wonder if this is a growing trend of necessity. If so, I wonder if it is a wise or sustainable solution. Concluding Matters and BibliographyThe following books are highly recommended reading material: educational, eye-opening, and mentally entertaining:
I would be remiss if I did not thank Daniel Friberg of Arktos for granting quote permission and for publishing Professor Dugin’s works in English. Бог - наш защитник (Deo Vindice) This piece was published at Perrin Lovett on November 22, 2024
 At some point during the last year, I somewhere admonished ‘Murikans to at least try to care about what is happening to the Palestinians. I can’t find my exact words, but I roughly mentioned that one day it might be Gazans and other Arabs considering a little sympathy for an America in terminal decline. Amazingly, that day appears to have come even earlier than I thought possible. Maysa Mustafa wrote an article for Middle East Eye about the abuse of ‘Murikans by their own evil government. Well, it’s not exactly sympathy—not yet—but it does expose a certain irony that has grabbed the attention of more than a few otherwise insouciant ‘Murikans. The Southeastern US was just hammered by Hurricane Helene, a storm that brought death and destruction to around a dozen American States. Then along came Hurricane Milton in Florida. Hundreds of people died, thousands were displaced, and millions were without power. Many are still suffering terribly from Helene alone. As Floridian Larry Johnson noted, the storm victims still have things better than those in Gaza and Beirut do. Still, ‘Murikans are hurting. Thankfully, as Mustafa points out, the illegitimate government in Washington is helping … “Israel”. FEMA is confiscating private relief donations and rescuers are being threatened with arrest in the US. Still, all is not lost: “On 26 September - the same day that Hurricane Helene made landfall – Israel announced that it secured a $8.7bn aid package from the US to support its ongoing military efforts.” See, there is nothing to worry about. The quote of the year about the steady erosion of sanity and grace in ‘Murika may have to go to South Carolina’s senior imperial Sinator, Lindsey Graham. Lisped the “pride” of the Upstate: "I've been going all over South Carolina, like most people I haven't slept much. But look what's going on in Israel. We have to help our friends to keep the war over there from coming here." All’s fair in Greek love and war, eh? To give the devil worshippers their due, fake secretary of state, Tony “I come to you not as an American” Blinken is bragging about proudly funding both sides of the widening West Asian genocide while the Southeast suffers:  And, you over there, stop thinking that if they hadn’t spent the $8 billion on bombs for Talmudistan, then they wouldn’t have to pay for assistance in Lebanon. That’s antisatanic, and you should be ashamed! They are also spending money that could have otherwise helped somewhere between Mexico and Canada on Kiev's quest to destroy itself. Andrei Martyanov found or crafted a nifty meme:  Some say this cold shoulder to the people who live in the imperial homeland is the fault of those dastardly liberal Democrats. Maybe it is. Maybe the solution lies in trusting those trusty and very trustworthy conservative Republicans. They keep earning it, don’t they? Why, here we see Donald Trumpstein helping disaster victims by praying at the grave of the great Judeo-Murikan hero and veritable son of the Mayflower, Rebbe Schneerson:  Oy to the vey. It would almost appear that the entire DC political establishment is wholly owned and operated by foreign satanists who just don’t give a damn about ‘Murikans. It gets crazier when one considers that the only 2024 presidential candidate who isn’t a crazed bloodthirsty zionist warmonger is Jill Stein, a Jewish woman. What’s that? Oh, right! I just made her name up, so please forget that I mentioned it. Uniparty, Uniparty, Uniparty! Sorry to disappoint, but there is no real moral to this little column. As there are absolutely zero legal or political solutions left to ‘Murika’s demise, it’s all a moot point. If they’re lucky, and if any of them survive, then perhaps after another fake election, ‘Murikans will finally wake up. Their incomprehensible idiocy and callousness have burned millions of people around the world, and not too many folks out there are favorably inclined toward the wayward denizens of Columbia. Still, Mustafa’s article at least hints that many beyond US borders do understand ‘Murikans are victims too. And, just as the Resistance fights, from Gaza to Kursk, maybe one day, the sons of Bunker Hill and First Manassas will decide to take the gloves off too. Or not. Hell, this is getting tedious. Deo vindice. Deus adiuvat eos qui se adiuvant.  As a bit of a follow-up to last week’s piece about the plight of so many oppressed children in West Asia, especially in Gaza, I’d like to note that the best part of Iran’s missile strike on the Zionist Occupiers of Palestine, at least as I saw it, was the fact that the hail of hypersonic warheads was plainly visible from Gaza. I lost them, but I saw several videos of the children (and adults) taking a break from the usual drudgery of genocide to sing, clap, and dance as they watched justice fall on their victimizers. I did remember to save the link to THIS VIDEO, one of many that showed the successful retaliatory strikes as they impacted their targets. According to imperial GAE and the dunderheads at the Werewestern MSM, the barrage was a complete failure, so please disregard all of the evidence to the contrary. They wouldn’t lie to the public, would they? And, heck, if they did, would the Western public notice? My guess is not. Most Americans simply don’t grasp much about this conflict or many other important aspects and developments of our times. Attempts to set the record straight are generally met by the kind of reaction deer give to the headlights of a large truck on a dark roadway. I can’t blame my fellow ‘Muricans, as most of them are woefully uninformed and lack cursory intellectual curiosity, even those with higher education and professional job titles. Who could blame them? They have more important matters to focus on at the moment. For instance, we recently learned that J.D. Vance (not his real name) wears eyeliner and that Tim Walz (whoever the hell he is) can’t tell the difference between China and Nebraska. Do you, dear reader, happen to hear “Slipping Away” by Dave Edmunds in your head? Might just be me. But the rest of the world, the part with a future knows what’s going on. All of these tactical details are, as ever, a bit murky. Yet it appears that, after a long and gracious period of waiting on psychotic monsters to develop a collective conscience, Tehran returned the favor against the Zionists for too many recent atrocities and war crimes. I don’t necessarily agree that President Pezeshkian was a babe in the woods who naively believed the lies of the clowns. I think he at least suspected that the Zio-GAE axis of death is, as the Russians say, “agreement incapable”. Now he knows for certain. It is alleged that the Islamic Republic launched about 200 ballistic missiles and that 80-90% of them successfully hit their intended targets. Iran’s targets were three Zionist air bases and two intelligence operations. There was a ton of extraneous information that I will not recite. But a few things are clear, or clearer. The IRGC potentially showcased at least three technologies that the Zionists and their GAE accomplices do not possess and probably never will. The missiles were all allegedly of true hypersonic nature, having both continuous power and maneuverability at speeds in excess of Mach 6 (allegedly Mach 13+). Many of them evidently deployed anti-interceptor defenses or flares. And it might be the case that some had multiple independent warheads. Almost all of them successfully evaded GAE air defense missiles along with the IGF’s David’s Sling, Arrow(s), and Iron Dome defenses. In other words, the Zionists were defenseless against the attack. In after-the-fact denials to make Baghdad Bob proud, the GAE engaged in stern word games while King Bibi blustered a series of semi-coherent threats from his bunker. As of my drafting, no Zionist counter-retaliation has manifested. If or when it does, Tehran vows to crank the dial and begin dismantling more critical infrastructure. Another critical lesson from this and similar recent happenings, from Yemen to Ukraine, is that Western (and Zionist) weapons, defenses, and tactics simply do not work in postmodern warfare. That coupled with the steady decline of Dollar dominance—Kazan is almost upon us—further heralds the end of hegemony and, potentially, centuries of nefarious global usurpation. But it is a bit like the American football scenario the late, great Jerry Clower once described: “second down and goal to go.” [If you’re not familiar with it, then look that one up! Boogity! Boogity!] So let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. Once again, while we’re being warned that the region is headed toward a major war, it already looks like one is in progress. And it still looks like a front or sub-war in the ongoing global conflict between the “Golden Billion” of Clown World and the Sovereign Majority of mankind. And, again, while all factors heavily suggest an eventual Sovereign victory, no one can predict exactly how all things will go nor how long their going will take. Maybe the worst part of these developments is that as usual there will be no American participation against the forces of hell. Maybe. No North American front. Not yet. Russia, China, North Korea, Iran, Yemen, Lebanon, and Palestine don’t necessarily need rebel American help to win. It's the real American people who need to help themselves. The majority of them, of course, can’t even see the dire need yet, and so they are largely unaware and completely unready. Perhaps after another rigged election, a little more geo-engineered weather, a deepening economic dark age, and maybe another fake pandemic they’ll wake up. Please don’t hold your breath, multipolar friends. However, if they ever do decide to join the fight, then one day they too might have the joy of dancing the Fattah Jig. For now, even as the coast is anything but clear, our good brothers and sisters in the Middle East are celebrating from Gaza to Isfahan as best they can. Even if their jubilation is bittersweet or transient, they’ve certainly earned the right. Deo vindice. This piece was published at Perrin Lovett on October 4, 2024.
 The evil illegal Zionist entity known to some as “Israel” is completely out of control as is its primary backer, the Global Amerikan Empire. Both are rapidly disintegrating and will cease to exist within a decade or so. The world will be a much happier, safer place when they’re gone. Until then, they appear determined to cause as much damage and suffering as possible. Because of the terrorism, unlawful warfare, and genocide being waged by these two rogue states, West Asia burns. Some fret that things might soon lead to a full-scale war threatening to engulf much of the world. To me, it appears that war is already happening and that it is one front in a pre-existing global war. Idiot Western leaders and the even less cultured buffoons in the MSM still at times maintain that “Israel” is defending itself, allegedly from something it forced Hamas to do, and which allows it to target and murder droves of people in Gaza. And the West Bank, and Lebanon, and Syria, and Iraq, and Iran, and… This is what “Israel” has been doing since 1948, as recounted in Ilan Pappe’s 2007 book, The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine, which I recommend people read in addition to the other books I’ve mentioned and reviewed this year. While the primary Resistance forces play an able game of attrition, things are still moving almost too fast to keep a handle on. As geopolitical or military tactical minutia keeps changing, I decided today to focus on a little of the human loss involved. Back in May, for reasons related to a bookstore, I joined Telegram. The bookstore matter is still somewhat unresolved. However, I did start to follow a few select channels and people, and lately, I’ve made a few cautious comments. It took a while to winnow the channels down to those a) devoted to the truth, and b) not devoted to nonsense and crypto scams. Now that my little browsing system has settled, I have a good source of added daily information. I also get to see an inordinate number of pictures and videos. Most of the images are unpleasant. Most of them concern war. And far too many of them showcase the human suffering therein, especially in the Palestinian Genocide. If anyone wants to see them—and, really, no one should independently want that—there are literally thousands and thousands of pictures of slaughtered civilians, far too many of them children (and one child would be far too many). Pursuant to my anti-gore policy, I will not directly show any of these disturbing images. I will, however, link to one of them. WARNING: THIS SHORT VIDEO is one of the most hideous and pitiful things I’ve ever seen, and I think you will agree. For those who can’t bear to look, it’s a perhaps second-trimester baby lying dead in the rubble after being expelled from his or her dead mother. Why do they post these images? I suspect it is because they are surrounded by death, and, as they have to deal with it constantly, they figure they might as well show the world what’s happening—particularly the parts of the world responsible for the slaughter. The Zionists simply don’t care. In fact, as this massacre is the fulfillment of their beliefs and policies, one reluctantly imagines they’re happy about it. Hell, we know many of them are. Those in the West, especially in America, are also responsible. Seeing the truth might help a few of them also see the blood on their hands. And there’s plenty to go around. Since May, I’ve seen children beheaded, half-beheaded, truncated, torn into large pieces, cut into small pieces, blasted into red paste, disemboweled, burned beyond recognition, starved to death, and butchered in every manner possible. Of the surviving children, UNRWA says 625,000—which might be all of them—are severely traumatized. Many, many adults receive the same cruel fates, but the loss of a child’s life just hits harder if I’m not mistaken. What’s that? You’re uncomfortable? Good. That’s a start. I too hate all of this and I had a hard time cobbling this little report together. Just when I contemplated backing out, I found inspiration from Ilana Mercer, a Jewish woman and “Israeli” citizen: “Genocide’s A Crime, Not A War Crime: Israel’s Waging Genocide, Not War.” She knows. Everyone with an IQ above room temperature knows. Some still choose to blindly or blissfully ignore it, but they must at least still sense something is very, very, very wrong. Here’s a video I do recommend everyone watch, even though I somehow find it harder to witness than the images of the dead. It’s of a little girl crying in the street.  I imagine she's carrying everything she owns in those two backpacks and the plastic bag. Some of the items might belong to other family members. If she has any left. Odds are, an immediate family member (or two, or all of them) has been Martyred since last October. Odds are, she witnessed the death(s). Her odds of surviving the year are not good. To date, you, complicit Amerikan, and the Zionists have killed a known 20,000 Gaza children. It’s possible the real number is closer to 100,000. This little girl hasn't been in school, Mosque or Church, or a real bed for nearly a year. She doesn't eat much or have clean water. She's trapped in a toxic wasteland the size of Manhattan. No dentist, no doctor, no help. But she has done the jump-and-run routine between bombing zones 3 or 4 times. That’s why she’s out in the street, moving along with everyone else. They’re dodging US-made bombs dropped from US-made warplanes in a US-funded genocide. Again. None of this is her fault and her understanding of the background matters is probably muddled at best. She is, however, keenly aware of her suffering. And, terrified by it all, she does what a little child does: she cries. Here’s a little boy in the same predicament. Still uncomfortable? Wait a second. Here’s one more to ponder. She’s not being treated. That’s what I hoped was happening when I first saw her. Alas, no. They’re preparing her the best they can for burial in a mass grave. Those images are from Gaza. As the reader may know, the carnage has now spread beyond Occupied Palestine. Dr. Marwa Osman has lately posted a terrible series of images from her backyard in Lebanon. Meet the children of the Al-Faris family.  Marwa Osman, Telegram. Children pictured with Hezbollah mastermind Winnie-the-Pooh…) They’re all dead along with the rest of the family, thanks to the Zionists and Yankees. Maybe thanks to you. Anyone who didn’t know better might assume the Al-Faris kids were from Ohio or Nottingham or somewhere else in the West. One would hope more people start seeing the truth in all of this madness. Some reporters in West Asia ask, “What if those were your children?” I answer that in a sense, they are our children. We don’t know them and accordingly, we’re not necessarily directly responsible for their wellbeing. But we have no right to assist in their destruction. Doing so creates a scandal. Do remember what Jesus said about scandalizing the children: “But he that shall scandalize one of these little ones that believe in Me, it were better for him that a millstone should be hanged about his neck, and that he should be drowned in the depth of the sea.” Matthew 18:6. God is their vindicator too. This piece was published at Perrin Lovett on Sept 27, 2024.
 America and the Combined West face a daunting series of “ifs” as this young century unfolds. Will America have a 2024 presidential election? Will America suffer a civil war? Will Europe continue to exist? In his new book, America’s Final War, Andrei Martyanov addresses these unpleasant, conjoined topics and much more. Concerning America’s declining role and prospects, in his Preface, Martyanov ponders and considers: “The question remains—can the United States, unlike Europe, survive its hubristic pursuit of globalism and the subjugation of its political institutions to Zionism? There is no clear answer to that.” The rest of the book largely centers on the pursuit of globalism and resulting failures, particularly regarding military affairs, and especially concerning the US and NATO’s losing war against Russia in Ukraine (Russia’s Special Military Operation). The portrait painted is both artful, factual, and realistic, yet it bodes poorly for an entire civilization in crisis. The inimitable Andrei Martyanov is a former Soviet Coast Guard Officer, retired American aerospace engineer, math whizz, and undeniably one of the very best level-headed military analysts and commentators of our current tumultuous era. His observations are remarkably astute. His conclusions, formed from the application of great knowledge and experience to known facts and methodologies, provide in real-time the kind of summation generally afforded by after-the-fact study of history. Anyone who does not do so already should undertake a daily perusal of his “Reminiscence of the Future” website. His words have great meaning and should be carefully considered. America’s Final War is his fourth book chronicling the decline of America’s military power, world standing, and society in general. This reviewer endorses and recommends all of them. America’s military and geopolitical affairs might be best summarized as the “Ghost of Kiev” Strategy, an anti doctrine based on lies and propaganda designed to conceal a lack of coherent operational planning ability and a host of weapons systems that don’t work. That faux strategy might also serve as a proxy for American and Western postmodern culture. Martyanov mentions the Ghost during a comparative discussion of air power in Chapter Six—the greatest flying Ace in all history, who defeated the entire Russian Air Force or something, turned out to be an MSM-hyped computer game. This episode, along with many others, highlights the bug (or feature) of American military doctrine: if the weapons or tactics don’t work, they can always fall back on hoaxes. Hoaxes don’t win wars. Other recent events underscore the fact that America lost—past tense—lost the arms race, not only to the Russian Federation but seemingly to just about all other parties no matter how unlikely. Much is being made about the Palestine 2 hypersonic missile of the Yemeni Armed Forces, traveling 2,000 km at Mach 8 and hitting an Zionist target while deftly bypassing IDF air defenses. That apparently did happen and the missile also managed to evade, in addition to the IDF’s systems, those of the US Navy (and France). The YAF used technology the US does not possess and appears incapable of fielding. The Ansar Allah may have implemented a local version of Russia’s military strategy, based on making and doing real things. “[W]ar is the war of economies. Real ones. Modern war is the war of steel, iron, energy and manufacturing capacity as a foundation of military power.” America’s Final War, p. 73. Hoaxes don’t win wars, the foregoing factors do. Martyanov provides copious proof of the stark and growing disparity between those factors in Russia and the West. Beyond losing the race for military wares and industrial capacity, many observers are beginning to notice that America and the West are also losing or have lost that one area where it was presumed they still possessed overwhelming dominance—word games. Iran’s Ambassador to Russia, Kazem Jalali, recently mentioned this loss concerning various of America’s meddlesome attempts to foster chaos worldwide. Maryanov sums this notion up on page 140: “The West has lost the propaganda war after losing a real one.” Two things, which the book touches on, led to America’s presumptive, “end of history” place of supremacy at the end of the previous century: the Dollar, and the alleged strength of America’s military. Both of them have been lately proven to be either things of the past or myths. With them gone, and with the power of Washingtonian lies fading away, very little is left in the way of power for the US to project against anyone. A large part of America’s Final War is dedicated to exposing not only the losses but the refusal or inability of Americans, particularly of the intellectual class and the mainstream media, to grasp what has happened. Many of these types may never really know or appreciate what they and their masters have done to America. However, it would behoove any and all ordinary Americans to understand what happened, why it happened, and what it means for America’s future. Martyanov provides a comprehensive picture, although it is one many Americans may find discomforting. At the end of Chapter Twelve, at the end of his excellent work, and just after a short list of truths many Americans may, again, find uncomfortable, Martyanov issues both a predictive summary statement and a warning:
If or when the first part of that final statement becomes reality, it will be a boon for the rest of mankind. The second part, not letting the US elites burn it all down as the US fails, is the real trick. As for how all of this works out, again, to quote Martyanov, “There is no clear answer to that.” But any answer necessarily requires an understanding of the problem and the surrounding pertinent facts. Those prerequisites are covered in extraordinary fashion in America’s Final War. Accordingly, I highly recommend the reader obtain a copy and read it as quickly as possible. Nulla pax Americana. Martyanov, Andrei, America’s Final War, Atlanta: Clarity Press, 2024. This piece was published at Perrin Lovett on September 20, 2024
 In the good old US of A, it’s like the past five years never happened. Heck, all of history never happened. There is no history. In ‘Murica, it’s always year stupid. And once again, millions of kind-hearted well-meaning folks are gearing up for this November’s pending Great Quadrennial Black Mass™. Just kidding. That’s what I started calling US presidential elections many years ago when things were a little more fun. In full disclosure, I have not voted in any election since 2012 when I finally grew tired of writing in “Hon. Dr. Ron Paul of Texas” to absolutely no effect. I also have an atavistic aversion to insane acts, retardery, and satanism. But I really do understand why so many of my fellow consumer units still pretend to enjoy the political process. I understand, I love you people, and I want to help! So, here is my little guidebook for better voting. It all starts with breathing. Yes, I know you can breathe. Everyone not named Joe Biden inhales and exhales. But do you breathe correctly? I suspect not. Luckily, back in the 90s, Dr. Andrew Weil wrote a fantastic book called 8 Weeks To Optimum Health which has since been revised and improved. Buy that and read it. Weil covers proper breathing at length. And it just so happens you have about eight weeks to prepare. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Full, deep breathing to oxygen-charge the bloodstream. Sleeping is critical too. Most postmodern people don’t get enough quality rest. Cats sleep 22 hours per day. Biden sleeps 25. Ordinary adults need somewhere between six and ten hours—hence, the rough “eight-hour” average. Keep it dark, cool, quiet, and comfortable and you’ll experience wonders. A proper diet and adequate hydration are necessary for healthy physical and mental functioning. As we’re talking about Amerikans, I’ll just let this part slide. On election day, and maybe the night before, do try to cut back just a tad on the alcohol and dope. No, strike that. There’s no point in fighting through temporary withdrawal symptoms when you’re… Moving on! You’re out of shape. Hell, you’re American’ts, so you’re probably barely upright and conscious. There’s not enough time, so I won’t ask you to lose the 100 or so pounds you need to shed. But you must be as fit as possible on election day. Treat it like any other sport. I’ve come up with a plan that incorporates warming up, stretching, weight training, and wind sprints. We've got to get you… Come to think of it, you treating this like any other sport means you sitting on the couch, cheap booze in hand, staring at Plato’s electric cave wall. So be it. But instead of ESPN, please remember to flip over to the very honest and intelligent professionals (hahahaha) at FOX or CNN. Don’t forget your nachos. Practice makes perfect. Fail to plan and plan to fail. Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without. Other pop psychology references. Make sure you’re registered to vote! I don’t think that’s a requirement anymore, but let’s be on the safe side. Know what day to vote. I think it’s, ironically, on Guy Fawkes Day this year, but, not paying any attention to this foolishness, I could be wrong. Find out for certain. And for Pete’s sake, know where you’re supposed to vote. If you’re an in-person voter, then know where your polling place is. Practice driving or walking there on a daily basis. Plan your primary route and backup routes. Do timed runs at different times of the day. Carry an umbrella. On the Big Day(!), they may not require proof of citizenship or eligibility, though they may require a goofy face diaper or proof you've been poisoned with a cancer-accelerating, DNA-altering, sterility-inducing substance. Know these details in advance. If you’re one of those newfangled mail-in voters, then find out where your mailbox or local Post Office is located. It might have moved since the last time you checked. A day late is a dollar short. Measure twice, cut once. Whether it’s on paper or a screen, you’ll have to make a decision. Your entire adult life is probably a testament that you don’t do that very well. Still, I have faith in you! This part assumes—(why, why, why do I bother?)—assumes you’re mildly literate. Here, and only here, it gets tricky. I cannot and will not vote for you. Remember? I do care about this idiocy to begin with. This is your personal choice. You can write in anyone you please (Ron Paul, RuPaul, “Dude who sold Jack the magic beans”, etc.). You can vote for a third-party candidate (Jill Stein, Libertarian X, and so forth). Odds are, you already want to vote for the trusted Uniparty ticket. Forget “right” and “left” wing, Democrat and Republican. ‘Murica only has an evil wing. So it’s probably gonna be Trump/Baphomet or Harris/Moloch, amirite? Good. For. You. However you vote, don’t forget to accept a little “I voted” sticker on your way out. That’s how they track your obedience. If you happen to miss a step or make a mistake, know that it’s okay. You or a name/number like you has probably already voted. Probably many times. As many times as they need. I’m not going to say that none of this matters. Nor will I say there isn’t going to be an election. This year or ever again. Or that your last mostly honest election was between Carter and Ford. Don’t reflect on the fact you’ve voted and voted since 1976 and nothing has changed for the better. I won’t bore you with my theory that they're going to install Harris (or Ol’ Orange Tweets) as their puppet and continue to let Tony “I come to you not as an American…” Blinken or someone like him run the charade on behalf of the cabal. You need not think about the observable fact we’re beyond the point where the international luciferians who own the US no longer need the politicians, let alone the voters anymore. Don’t consider what Saint Paul said about those who consent to the wickedness of others—others, say, in and of a satanic cult and terrorist organization masquerading as a government. Do vote like this is the last time because there’s an increasingly likely chance this will be the final dog and pony show. Get your sticker and get out. I can’t be at all polls, after-the-fact mail drop locations, or overseas data farms. So, just as you imagine you’re practicing your democracy, pretend I’m waiting outside with a gold star and a hug for you. You can do this. I believe in you. I am proud of you. I bet you are the best voter you know. You are special. Your vote counts. So do you. Go get ‘em, tiger! Stultorum suffragium. *Author’s Note: Some interesting writings about countries, people, and happenings that matter are coming soon(ish)! This piece was published at Perrin Lovett.com on Sept 6, 2024.
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