Chain of Hands at the Edge of the Marxist Memory Hole

On the 6th of May, myself and a group of hard-chargers drove 15 hours to defend our people at the base of the General Robert E. Lee monument in New Orleans, Louisiana. On the way down we knew we would be outnumbered by a government supported rabble of r-selected bugs, none the wiser to anything other than we were White, and they want that gone. It could have been a statue of Lincoln for all they care. Whether Southern or Cascadian, Christian or Pagan, German or Welsh, they see us as all the same: 255 bland White. The richness of our blood and soil will largely only be cherished by us, the Southern people. For this we fight.

No doubt organized by the radical (((media))) and their local scallywag, the humanoid billboard of inclusion swarmed upon us, those unapologetic of their Southern inheritance. We stood refusing to relinquish our history to the Marxist memory hole.

All told we stood 10-1, drastically outnumbered, the neutered NOPD brazenly facing us, tapping the cuffs on their belts menacingly as the hordes moaned and screamed for the erasure of our people. They would chisel our families from history as they would the names of veterans from our monuments; merely a symbol of that which would come. Surely, in the higher heavens, signs and symbols form the shadow of what would manifest. Statues being a symbol for our flame, that they surely seek to snuff.

While a supporter of the League of the South for 5 years now, I was still largely ignorant of the members, for I knew only a few. I am also new to the Identity Dixie crowd as well. While perusing some of these fellas on Faceberg I couldn’t help but notice some counter-signaling. Stubbornness and will, two sides of the same sword that most men wield. Some words had rubbed me wrong, I have to admit. Are the atomized doomed to dissent?

One thing I learned o’er my journey of writing is this: Conflict unveils Character. Ever seen a loud mouth cucked? The silent student stand strong? You never know what one is made from, until they are tried.

Before you say that protest is worthless, consider that words, being the manifestation of thoughts, foreshadow the fight. This was a fight. A fight for existence, and for our people’s future. Our ancestor’s didn’t raise our home from this land for a moment in the shade. They did it for those that would carry their name upward from the foundation laid.

The form upon the stone, a vortex for conflicting wills; not the ends of this argument. We were there for OUR PEOPLE, not merely stone. The consuming hordes of nothingness only surfaced to raze, not to create. Our presence sang that unsung hymn hidden in the hearts of those cowering under what their home had become.

Despite the differences in the specificities of our beliefs, under the pressure of opposition, our guys came together as one clan, one people. There is no petty comment section warfare when the enemy approaches. The men that stood with me that day are now my brothers. Sappy? No, my skeptical reader. Anti-fa maced an old lady in a wheelchair days before. Feral negroes don’t just kill the Boer, their racial behaviors are clearly common, though hidden from the (((media’s))) eye, and written upon this very city. Not to mention the imminent threat of arrest, justified or not. Horrors do abound, and the men that stood against this, I will forever respect.

As you might have seen, the hordes approached and drove down the surrounding barricade with no police resistance whatsoever. What exactly stopped a group of 4-500 scumbags and scallywags?

There were maybe 50 of us. Spread out. There were others on our side, but not everyone actually stood with us. The hordes could have swarmed us, and if no regard was given for the lives of a few of them, they might have even stomped us to death, hailed as “heroes” by the (((presstitutes))) that keep the gates of public opinion.

Every nation, every race, punch a Nazi in the face.” This is what we are to them, not Southern, not anything other than White, and that means, “Nazi.” Yes, I was called a, “Nazi” several times, amongst, “Human Trash,” and the other desecrating words spewed from filthy mouths, simply for standing for my people, and our God-given right to survive.

These men whom I met, stood for our people, winning few souls amongst the hordes, but warming the hearts of millions who looked upon us from their homes. The media eye, the only outlet to a sympathetic heart. We didn’t just show our people we are here, fighting, risking life and limb for their voice to be heard. We were showing our greater racial family world-wide. The events that day being some of the most watched upon this planet. Never underestimate the reaches of ripples in the pond.

There were those aliens that showed up just to push their brand, thinking this is some Cos-play game. Some literally knowing nothing about us or all that we fought for. The cuck-knight, a mischling oil driller from hell-A seeking to hoist the very flag our people fought against for what? A chance to be invited to Tyrone’s BBQ? CNN brownie points? That trespasser got exactly what he deserved. His ignorant delusions being the forefront of what we fight against!

The hordes yelled, “Fuck Trump” not understanding that the Confederate flag represents a disavowal of the federal system. Myself a non-voter, and more of our guys also not giving a damn about Trump. Goes to show what they know about us…nothing. They just see us as White=Trump=Nazi. Southern is not something they even understand.

“This is what democracy looks like,” was repeated by the opposition over and over, once again demonstrating a complete ignorance of our views. “That’s exactly why we don’t want democracy,” myself and a man I stood beside stated in agreement.

There were Patriotards, gun-cucked and counter-signaling us, their racial brethren, with no allegiance for the soil they stood upon, or the blood that nourished it. They called us, “Nazis” and flew the same flag we fought against, instead posing for the, “muh constitution” crowd. They punched right, preferring to virtue signal to the alt-light* crowd (*see slow genocide.) Their god being Tyrone’s “concept nation,” and not their race, never mind the Southern people. When the conflict came their true character was exposed, and they fled the scene, for it was us that stopped the hordes from reaching and vandalizing the monument, from getting away with any of our flags, and from harming our people. Us, not the identity-less patriotards.

Do you think I counter-signal myself by punching at them? First of all they are not, “right” of me, and finally, they must be shamed, until they repent for their actions. Only solution. Would the Lord expect less? Wrong is wrong. Ignorance is no excuse. A simple moment in research could have cleared up who we are and why we were there, so I refuse to excuse this blatant disrespect of our people and our land, their vanity be damned.

In closing I leave you with this: the bonds of battle loose the burns of the boards. The internet is a reality further from the truth of fellowship. We must get together, and if these articles and websites keep you comfortable enough to stay put, DESTROY THEM NOW! I am not writing this to keep you at home. We are out here, as our ancestors were, a chain of hands held together to support one another, and defend our space, all of which graciously endowed by our sovereign Creator. Common sense? Sure, but some are still clearly afraid.

All I could think about was entering New Orleans, some center of Satanic power, severely outnumbered by everything. I thought of Antifa braining people with bike locks, blinding people with RAID, stabbing and gang-banging people. I thought of being arrested for the first time in my life and being sent to a GRIDs riddled NOLA jail, surrounded by feral blacks ready to play prison games.

Then I thought of my ancestors names, scraped from stone, like they wish to scrape our identity out of us, leaving us with nothing but a transgendered Walmart culture, so muddied it would make Kalergi blush. Our people deracinated and disposable, our militancy destroyed, and our children broken to serve a merciless predator-class, the same carpetbagging principality that gorges endlessly upon any learned helplessness they can find.

There comes a time when conviction tips the scales further than fear for the flesh. When you come out and fight, you will find there are no enemies in the foxhole, that I can assure you dear reader. This fight is just beginning. Come join us now, or start thinking of the look on your grandchildren’s face when you try to sell them your well rehearsed excuse as to why you WOULDN’T fight for them.

I, for one, will fight.

4 thoughts on “Chain of Hands at the Edge of the Marxist Memory Hole

  1. ‘What exactly stopped a group of 4-500 scumbags and scallywags?’

    You were protected by The Holy Ghost.

    Thank you for your service. There are many more, behind you, who were unable to be present, than you can imagine.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Great article, sir. I was proud to stand with you at Lee Circle on that day. May there be many more battles and many more victories until our enemy at last is vanquished. If anyone wants to formally join the fight, we invite you to enlist in the newly-formed Southern Defense Force (SDF). They availed themselves with honor in Pikeville, Kentucky, and NOLA against great odds. For information on the SDF, email me at . Deo Vindice!

    Liked by 2 people

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