Honour (noun/verb) – (‘honor’ in American English) is an abstract concept entailing a perceived quality of worthiness and respectability that affects the self-evaluation of an individual or nation … among other designations.
It’s A Wonderful Race (Part 1)
Have Europeans Been DUPED These Past 80 years??
By Mike Walsh
It wasn’t always like this. Newspapers were once omnipotent. Until recently media columnists were more powerful than Congress or Parliament.
The term “columnist” has its origins in Saint Simeon Stylites of Aleppo in Syria. During the 5th Century, the orator harangued the populace from the steps of his “column”.
Newspaper columnists were once a formidable force in the U.S. and UK.
Great names included Ambrose Bierce, Walter Winchell, and H. L Mencken (1880–1956). Britain had its drum beaters in Alastair Cooke (Letter from America), Cassandra (Daily Mirror), Eric Heffer (Daily Mail) and Peter Simple (Daily Telegraph).
Washington columnist Marquis Childs guessed that New York Times editorialist James Reston held roughly … the power of three Senators. Presidents and Prime Ministers tirelessly courted newspaper satirists. President Lyndon B. Johnson, a friend of Walter Lippmann, conceded that this columnist could make or break him while the electorate was still in bed.
Since the onset of the far-freer Internet — all such power has since evaporated. Betrayed readers have deserted mainstream media (MSM) in tens of millions. For the first time in history, the great national tabloids are shocked at the impact that foreign media is having on sales and readership valuation.
There are nuggets of humour to be found in the demise of the much-mocked Western conventional media-speculation posturing as “news”. Recently, the Press Officer of the U.S. Embassy in Moscow decided to conduct a Twitter poll. The hapless fellow invited 1,600 followers to decide whether they believed (RT) Russia Today’s version of events … or those of The Economist.
As at 6 pm that day, 617 had ‘favorited’ the Russian English-language (RT) news broadcaster; only 43 had ‘retweeted’ for The Economist. Twitter diplomacy had become Twitter democracy … and Mr. Steven’s epic fail was apparent.
Virulently anti-Russian Lithuanian TV3 held a survey with the intention of discrediting Russia. The viewers of this CIA bullhorn-channel asked viewers, “Do you see a growth in Russian propaganda in Lithuania?”
One can imagine the TV channel’s hurt feelings when 82% of viewers replied, “It is not propaganda. Russia is telling the truth”. Only 12% of viewers agreed with the channel.
“Though I have spent a lifetime in journalism, I do NOT read a newspaper, NOT the New York Times, NOR the Washington Post, NOR the Wall Street Journal. NOR, do I have television service.
Why? Because, having worked in that ‘restaurant’, I know better than to ‘eat there’. The foregoing media are quasi-governmental organs, predictably predictable … and predictably dishonest. The truth is not in them.” >Source
Great media columnists — once stronger than government — are now used typewriter ribbon-spools scattered over the dirty floors of the past newspaper industries offices. Ironically the Syrian columnist 1,600 years (ago) had probably more clout and credibility than do today’s mainstream media (MSM) columnists.
The Daily Mail Online is now one of the most ridiculed newspapers in circulation. Readership of conventional and online newspapers is plummeting. Tens of millions — despairing of media spin and anti-White bias — are (now) turning to independent online media. Good riddance! >to Full Article (For added emphasis, underlined, bold, italicized words and links by ELN Editor)
Long ago in endless time
Somewhere in empty space
The Gods gave substance to themselves
And to this earthly place.
Then the sons of the Gods chose the earth
To carry on a fight
That started in another place
Between darkness and the light.
Now the Arya were the sons of the Gods
And order was their cause,
For chaos cannot prosper
In the light of Nature’s laws.
The Arya spread across the earth
And taught the Folkish way,
And for a time order reigned,
But ’twas a short lived day.
For darkness had a battle plan
And an army all in place.
‘Twas stealth and wealth and cunning
In the hands of an alien race.
The alien brought the darkness
To every folkish land,
Stole their wealth and heritage
With usury’s hidden hand.
Purchased kings and fostered wars
So kindred Folk were slain
By those of selfsame kin and blood
On every earthly plain.
The alien taught the Arya
That a Nation’s not a Race,
Nor culture, nor kin, nor heritage,
Nor even similar face.
A Nation is wealth and power,
And a National anthem, they cry,
A rag called a flag, and a line in the ground,
For this the Arya should die.
So Persian slew Greek,
And Roman fought all
From east of the Tigris
To Britain and Gaul.
The blood of the White man
All shed in vain
Norman and Saxon,
Celtic and Dane.
The alien taught Arya names for the Gods
And no one did object,
Though son may call sire only father,
All else is disrespect.
So Arya slew Arya
For Mithra and Thor,
For Christus and Zeus,
And Jove they slew more.
There came a time that Christiandom
And Europe quailed in fear
As dragon ships prowled the coasts
And Woden’s sons drew near.
The pope brought forth an inquisition
To reinforce his claims.
Protestants and sons of Woden
Burned in Catholic flames.
Allfather was the Norseman’s God.
To Christians that’s a sin.
“Our Father” had a better sound,
So they slew their Nordic kin.
And so the seeds of death were sown
Among the Arya Folk.
The alien only had to deal
The final fatal stroke.
America was the name of the sword
That ended Arya light.
In Dixie first, and then in Europe
She brought the alien night.
I hear the voices of a murdered race
Whispering to me and you
From the graves of Dixie and Europe:
Beware of the Red, White and Blue.
Too late my friend, you read this ode,
It’s written in a prison cell.
And the last generation of White children
Are condemned to a living hell.
Aryan child with skin so fair,
With eyes of blue and green,
And ladies with tresses of auburn and gold
Will never again be seen.
This is the dread that tortures my soul
And demands to my last breath
That struggle I must to wake my kin
From nearby sleep of death.
>Source: Renegade Tribune
WE’RE EIGHT PER CENT
We’re eight percent, there’s nothing more,
That Europe has to give,
It’s five-to-midnight for our race,
We only wish to live;
Upon this earth as others do,
We’ve given much, we are but few,
If we’re to die then you must too,
There’s not much else to do.
We’re eight percent, you’re many,
Ours is the stricken realm,
You stand to kill the golden goose,
Your numbers overwhelm,
If we’re to die then what of you,
Night will fall if dark winds blew,
O’er folk who gave their all.
Every soul of other race,
You reaped what we have sown,
Why take away your Europe folk,
Through whom our world has grown,
There’s not a single one of you,
Who never reaped our corn;
If Europe’s folk should disappear,
The world must know no dawn.
It’s A Wonderful Race (Part 1)
Try this on your own “Search” engine: