Editor’s Note: “To Fam, From Sam” was previously serialized here at Full-Haus.com, but is presented now in its entirety. There’s a lot packed into these 14 (thousand) words, from family joys and heartbreaks to women, the old skinhead scene, music, Christian Identity, and more. Hail Sam!
I am known as Sam since the Fatherland podcast, and now Full Haus. “Sam” was simply a convenient contraction of my long-time screen name since before the days of the Alt-Right, Sanguinem Aryan, which means Aryan Blood in Latin. Aryan Blood is also one of my favorite black metal bands.
A useful way to communicate one’s ideals, lessons learned and reasons for believing certain things is the autobiography. By it one can show one’s development of ideas without seeming preachy. By stating what happened to me, what I found, where it led me, and the conclusions I was, in truth, forced to make, the reader may find solutions to his own struggles.
Some will not agree with my views, but may at least appreciate the process. The reader may find some of my logic useful for arguing with certain types of people, even if the reader is unprepared to reach the same conclusions. Readers should also consider writing their own autobiographies. Many of our heroes have made great impact by them. I have read Mein Kampf, This Time the World by George Lincoln Rockwell, and My Life by Oswald Mosley – all autobiographical in nature. An old friend of mine wrote his own autobiography very simply and directly – and it continues to move me to this day. It is in fact why I write this now.
But most people don’t like to read on a computer screen, at least not books or lengthy articles. I do not. I recall the early days of the internet, 1993-1995. Especially on “our” sites, long articles and even books would be posted. People visit websites today for the quick jolt of a meme or some image, not to read. I usually do not like to print things out, either because my printer is always out of ink or does not work for some reason. I think most people are like this. Hence, we have the well-known acronym, TLDR. So, I have made this work concise in the hope that some will take a few minutes to get something worthwhile out of it.
But you might not start an autobiography if you are young. The lessons of life must stand out with some perspective. I do not know when you should start, but you must have some milestones to mark certain turning points, successes, and failures.
I was born in the 60s in a big city. I hate that we must leave out so much detail in what we say to prevent the vile enemy from using it against us. They will pay for this one day. My parents and I moved to the suburbs when I was little. A younger sibling came along. My father eventually left the household when I was 6 or 7; I did not know why. I heard he was a philanderer. My father would eventually die when I was a teenager. I would come to realize later in life how the absence of a father in the house hurt me. That is not to say that you cannot overcome such a deficiency, only that you should realize that you may lack in certain things and you may need to think things through more carefully when you encounter certain situations. There are many cases of guys growing up without fathers, far more than from my era; maybe some of them are reading this. You can see how having the sole or primary influence of a mother can give you a lopsided experience that affects the way you react to things.
I found out that I had two older half-siblings when they came to live with us when I was little. They were about ten and twelve years older than me. They came from California and were in high school at the time. One of them would sneak beers and cigarettes all the time. He started coming home drunk in the middle of the night. He fell down all fifteen stairs to the basement once. I remember my father coming back to the house (after he was no longer living there) to beat the hell out him. He took him out to the garage and I could hear the screaming and the violence. You can really hear the fear in someone’s voice when it is genuine. My father came back in the house to tell my mother in anger, “Give me a screwdriver!” The way he said it really scared me and it seemed cruel in a way that I did not dare myself to imagine. By the time I was 8 or 9 years old they were gone from the house.
We would go to visit my grandparents who lived in the city, passing through run-down and dangerous black neighborhoods along the way. I can remember resenting them for creating these conditions because the areas could have been nice. In fact, people we knew would talk about how this or that particular neighborhood had been a great place to live until such and such time. Later in life I would be told that it was because of economics that blacks were the way they were. But that lie was immediately obvious because my early life experience was that my grandparents and their neighbors were not wealthy and they did not act like these creatures. They lived in a small white enclave mostly surrounded by blacks. One time we went with my grandparents to visit relatives and we got a flat tire in a really bad spot. Blacks milling around, watching us: my grandfather, grandmother, mother and little brother. It was a tense moment. It was not like we did not have precedents to be anxious.
I remember that in my all-white neighborhood growing up, we played with the children across the street, brothers and sisters. For several years, each summer they had some cousins that would come in the summer and stay for something like a month. The parents would be there, too. The last time I saw them they were leaving to drive home which meant driving through the city. There was heavy rainfall and traffic was diverted from the highway. I remember the poor conditions of the frontage roads and underpasses near the highway: Out-of-towners, unfamiliar with the area, finding their way through a bad neighborhood. So, the blacks closed down an underpass and were demanding money from cars coming that way. When these out-of-town guests were confronted the dad said no, he was not going to give money and was shot in the face, murdered right in front of his family. I don’t know: maybe he gave them money or did not have money but they did kill him. That’s how I remember it. My mother talked about it.
Anyway, I did not believe that blacks were even poor. My uncle was in a union and worked at the steel mill. He would flaunt the big wad of cash that he always had in his pocket. He would talk about that nearly all of his co-workers were black and how many of them would be doing cocaine in the bathrooms on company time. So, apparently, they were getting their big wads of cash, too, often clearing nearly $1000 per week, a lot of money in the 70s and 80s. My uncle was no angel either, bragging about drinking the pure ethyl alcohol by-product of the coke plant while on the job. It was little wonder that the steel industry ultimately failed in this area by the 80s and there was little doubt about how most blacks really are.
I remember one of my earliest racisms. When my older half-brother turned 18 in the late 1970s, he joined the Army. About two years in he married a black woman and had a child with her. This was a surprise because he constantly used the term, “Jungle Bunny” to refer to blacks. He was stationed in Germany. I am not sure why so many guys do this: Join the military and quickly marry a negro or some other non-white. I would see this pattern again and again later in life. The marriage would not last, though; they were divorced within two years.
The woman would go on to go blind. He went on to have three more marriages (though to white women). I was about ten years old. I attended Catholic catechism classes and the teacher asked each student to talk about his family. When it was my turn, I described my family but then it dawned on me: I could play this family shame of the mixed-race marriage for a laugh and ‘score a point’ (so to speak). So, I said that my (half) brother had joined the army and married a black and [dramatic pause]…had a baby! The whole class laughed! I laughed along with them but looked sideways out of the corner of my eye to enjoy the deadpan disapproving reaction of the teacher. By Jove, it seemed like I knew what I was doing! She asked if ‘that’ (the marriage) had hurt me. But the point that I would later understand was that the reaction of laughter among the children was normal. The parents of each and every one of those kids had certainly not sat them down to explain the evils of interracial marriage. TV and movies certainly were no source of reinforcement of the racial instinct. It is a natural reaction. Imagine if two faggots walked past a schoolyard at recess holding hands when you were a kid; who would not laugh at the two silly men holding hands? We only lose this instinct when it has been drilled out of us by propaganda.
I have not seen my older half-brother (the one who got his ass kicked) in over 15 years at this writing and would not even know how to find him. I had not seen him before that for probably another 10 years. I will return to the catechism classes for a moment because it forms part of another great realization that came in life: I grew up at a time when it was clear that the best days were behind us. Vatican II had transpired and was being implemented only a few years before my conscious life. Everything was to be watered down. No standards were to be enforced. Learning the real catechism was to give way to…coloring books. When were we going to learn about the mysterious parts of the faith that sounded interesting to me, the little I knew about it? Why were we not learning the faith from priests, brothers and nuns? I found the classes to be so boring because they would dwell on such pedestrian points.
I would have the same sensation in public school. We would spend so much time on a few concepts that I would completely lose interest and sometimes not do as well as I might have. This was particularly true with math and science, which I liked. Other classes like literature or art, I had to work at a little more and perhaps remained more engaged for that reason. If I had to read a story or something all the way through, it kept my mind on it. (These sentiments would later drive my interest in home-schooling.) Think about how you may have struggled with some subject because you never had the time to really thoroughly understand it. Or the opposite situation: You were so bored with a topic because it moved so slowly that you gave up on it. All of us have had that experience with different subjects and that is because everybody learns a little differently. Some of the most brilliant people were considered not competent enough to be in school because their minds worked in a ‘slower way’ which would be their way to thoroughly comprehend the subject.
I joined the school band and saw the same thing. We did not strive for excellence. Or maybe it would be better if I said that we did not strive for excellence anymore. Our high school band, sports teams and other organizations had been renowned, even world-renowned in the recent past. But the teachers did not seem to care. Or was it the students and parents that resisted? Anyway, we were just marking time, stagnant.
The life of the community, especially the quality of life of the community, depends on the great upswell of white people continually producing white families. When there is this great upward pressure of white life happening you have drama clubs and junior civil air patrols and boy scout troops and little league and choirs and chess clubs and autobody shop class and 4H and so many other things. (I would later realize how birth control is killing our race.) As I look at the remnant of the town I grew up in I see all of the civic organizations dwindling and dying, the quality of activities at the high school diminished, the disappearance of community events such as parades and fairs, closed churches and so forth. I came into conscious life at a time when these things were all dying, and now they are dead. When I grew up, we knew every family on our block. Now, I do not want to know anyone on my block. There is no cohesion. There is no sense of belonging. I have no attachment to this town, this county, this state, this country.
That is not to say that there are not white communities with some or even many of the feature of a nice white community. But I cannot afford to live there. I can take you to some affluent areas that are mostly white, have a nice high school and downtown area. But let’s go door to door and take a little survey (if it were possible) and find out what the occupations and incomes of the residents are. Bank vice presidents, doctors, business owners, upper-class and bourgeoisie. That is not an organic community. This false community is the product of capitalism. And I would hate to live among those people as much as I hate living around niggers.
I will go back a couple years, to ages 6-8. There were kids on our block and I knew them. It was also when I was this young that I began to find out about the great mysteries of the opposite sex. I was able to play with almost any kids when I was little. I could play with boys or girls I did not think twice about it. I would play with one girl down the block who was my age all kinds of games, hide-and-seek, tag and made up games. Then I found out about her favorite game. A game she called, “Strip.” She would like to take off her clothes, at least partially when we were alone and ask me to do the same. She would come up with all kinds of variations of having the lights out, or stripping by oneself and then she would come out in the dark. In the haze of my memory I cannot recall exactly too much detail, maybe because it was one of those things you kind of blank out. I just recall her suggesting it often and I would think to myself, “Not again.” It was very awkward and I could not view it or enjoy it exactly as a sexual experience. She tried to show me things and I kind of looked past her without looking at her. I was ashamed that I did not resist better.
Later in life I would realize that children and young people in general are curious and there is no sin in being curious. But parents should not let children be together in an unsupervised way for such long periods. But I began from that time to appreciate the mystery of the female and how wonderful and different they were. We men should always acknowledge their difference and keep it before our minds. We err if we begin to expect from them what we expect from men or that we understand things the way they do. We should want to be close to our wives or other women in our lives but you are only going to run into problems if you think that you can be on exactly the same page with them. They are and always will be different in their outlook and prerogatives.
In a few short years I was in middle school and I began to appreciate music in a new way. The school was making us sell things, magazines, records, 8-track tapes. (Yes, I had 8-track tapes and an 8-track tape player.) Rock and Roll High School was playing in theaters and being talked about on the radio and movie reviews, so I knew about The Ramones. I started buying their records (first from the school sales program) and I immediately keyed on their playing around with what we would now call Nazi memes. They had songs like The KKK Took My Baby Away, Blitzkrieg Bop, and Commando. They would use the American flag and patriotic imagery in a cool way, very much against the status quo sentiments of the music industry at the time. This music was nothing like what was commonly played on the radio or promoted in records stores. Next was the Sex Pistols. I liked the music and their contempt for society but ultimately my interest in them gave way to other bands. They too would use Nazi memes. Sid Vicious wore the swastika and they had a song called Belsen Was a Gas. Later, older scenesters would explain to me that many or even most punk rock bands started out glorifying Nazism. For example, even the super left-wing and faggy Dead Kennedys apparently started out with a white power message.
I would later find out that like the Monkees, both the Ramones and the Sex Pistols were bands envisaged and assembled by producers. They were not exactly organic developments. I saw the movie Decline of Western Civilization in 1982. I was already listening to Black Flag. They had a song White Minority that really got my attention. The movie introduced me to a bunch of new bands: X, Circle Jerks, and others. This movie showed young people wearing the swastika and casually using the word, “nigger.” I think the producer wanted this to look bad, hence the name of the movie, “Decline.” There were other movies around the same time that showed this dimension of the underground music scene and its ties to disaffected white youth. Another example was the movie, Suburbia. One of the young characters explained that he was on the street because his father was a faggot. Returning to pick up his stuff he finds his father passed out with another dude.
But soon I found out that the bands promoted by big record companies were really just imitating and trying to capture and package-for-sale the aggression, honesty, and refreshing and original sound of the street rock bands of the mid-70s, sometimes called Oi!: bands like Cocksparrer, Skrewdriver, Sham 69, Buzzcocks. These guys were the real beat of the street.
And so, by the mid- and late 80s I was listening to white power Oi such as Skrewdriver and Brutal Attack, and American hardcore bands like Agnostic Front, also known for their right-wing connotations of patriotism and violence. (There was an explosion of similar stuff from all over the world: Germany, France, Australia. I could go on and on.) Much of this stuff had to be mail ordered from then West Germany. Once in a while you could get lucky at a record store and find some White Power stuff. American hardcore I could find in certain record stores in the city.
I am getting ahead of myself. I do not want to make it seem that I was so single-minded in my tastes or pure in my understanding about things. In some ways I was very open-minded and would listen to a great variety of different things. But as the years go, those other things fell away and certain things remain. It may seem like I have this long history of interest in this material and politics, and it seems like I am some kind of authority about our ideals, but I have seen in others that it was more instructive and productive when someone had an experience of waking up with an adult mind to the realities of this world and the central role that race plays. There is something very decisive about someone explaining their red-pill story rather than coming by a very gradual way to understanding over the course of their entire life.
As I entered high school I could certainly identify with disaffected white youth in the movies. Our community was mostly white at that time but there was something wrong with the spirit of our high school. It was as though we had been cut loose. The building and facilities were old. The band uniforms were sloppy-looking and old. The gymnasium and sports equipment were broken down. You could see that it had been something great at one time. There were stories of top-notch stage productions in the past. I remember when I was very little locals who would talk about local stage productions like they were some kind of downtown premier. Shop classes were being discontinued. The labs were outdated.
Then the first brown faces started showing up. I thought, “This is it. This is the end.” When I graduated there were only a few dozen of them. Within a few years the school was majority black. But then the damnedest thing happened: New gymnasiums, new band uniforms, an entire new wing with state-of-the-art laboratories, a top quality rubberized-outdoor track, a new theater area with a big glass lobby and other updated facilities. So I figured it out: Blacks get what they want. Whites don’t get shit. All of this happened after I graduated.
While I was still a high school student I started reaching out to groups. I wrote to Art Jones to get his America First newsletter. He would sell tape recordings of his appearances on local talk radio. He was uniquely bold and humorous. He had a phone number that you could call and listen to a funny racist message about the news of the day. This was when AIDS was first becoming known and he was ranting about the fags donating their AIDS-blood to blood banks. I wrote to (Thom Robb’s) Ku Klux Klan and received their newspaper. When I was a junior some friends and I prepared a birthday cake for Adolf Hitler and sang happy birthday to him during the band hour. The band was horribly supervised and the director was a drunk. In senior year I spray painted a swastika on the school. I was not caught and I do not know how they did not know it was me. That is probably all I better say on my high school activities.
My father died around this time as well. I never did get a lot of detail about it. He lived in a condominium in a fashionable neighborhood in the city. He had been a life-long heavy smoker but had quit in recent years. They say he died from smoke from a fire started in his condominium from a smoldering cigarette. Some say he had recently started smoking again. That is really all I know about it. In life he had seemed to have liberal sentiments and we would argue about politics, culture, and religion. One time we were visiting his place of business and I had my school folder. On it I had drawn a swastika and he was concerned that his business partner (a Jew) saw it. For all my father’s liberal platitudes it was this Jew that ultimately screwed him out of his business. My father was a successful machinist by trade and started and ran his own machine shop. He expanded maybe a little too fast and took on this Jew partner. And look what happened.
By the time I had graduated high school I was very disaffected. I thought I should join the military or something. While I was in high school my father insisted that I go to college, but then he died. Not really knowing what I should do, I applied and was accepted at a decent local university in the city. I did well but looking back I thought my younger brother had done better because when he graduated high school, he worked in a factory for a couple years before going off to college. I think I would have been more mature and had a firmer sense of direction if I had done the same. Plus, I would not have been penniless. When my own sons were old enough, I advised them to work for a little while first. Learn about the real world. Make some money. Then, if you want to go to college for some good reason, go.
When I attended college I lived in the city for a while. The university was more or less surrounded by some very notoriously dangerous negro areas. I took the train every day for a while. Looking back, I really would not have recommended this. I never had any really bad occurrences but I was certainly exposed to danger because bad things did happen around there. If you are reading this then you know that the way you carry yourself sends out a signal whether you are a victim or not. A woman or a smaller person or maybe someone who is overweight may seem a certain way to the animalistic, predatory ferals. I would not send my mother or daughters into such an environment.
One of the few bad and funny interactions I can recall with blacks was the time I briefly tried to be in the ROTC unit. They gave me a uniform to wear and I was riding the train. This pack of probably very young teenage negros surrounded me, laughing and joking about my uniform, calling me “Captain.” “He think he a muthafuggin Captain!” “Hey Captain, you a Captain?” And finally, “He the captain of yo momma’s pussy!” These creatures would constantly wander through the campus. They finally killed one of the campus cops.
My university was far less liberal than you think of universities being then or now. But they had a Union of Concerned Black Students and a free newspaper which would come out now and then. I would pick-up a big pile of them (because they were free) and put them right into the garbage. In retrospect that probably only made it seem like they had more readers than they actually did.
By the time I was nineteen I was styling myself a punk rocker and a skinhead. This was at a time before these things were really distinct. I was going to gigs and record shops like [redacted]. I would buy, sell and trade records. CDs were starting to appear. I laugh now about the resurgence of records and tapes. The 60s and 70s were the era of the vinyl record. The 80s was the era of the cassette. The 90s was the era of the CD but it seemed much more short-lived than that. CDs quickly gave way to MP3s and iPods. I remember the controversies of Napster and Limewire. Each of these services were sued out of existence. It was spearheaded by Metallica. I don’t care about stealing from enemies – that’s called ‘raiding’ – but don’t steal from our guys. If you want a cool shirt, a good book or some great music, buy it from our guys. Let’s only do business with each other as much as possible.
When I was 19 or 20, I was working at a technical center just off campus. A friend of mine from school who was a few years older than me and ahead in school by a year or two lined me up to take his job as he took on a full-time, professional position in the same organization. This guy was into the same things as me and he would really get me hooked up with more places to go and things to do. I was introduced to this older man who was a PhD in the field and this guy gave me a copy of the Spotlight newspaper that featured an article about a band called, “Skrewdriver.” This was to be a life-changing moment. This same man also gave me videotapes and cassette tapes with recorded messages, I suppose you could call them ‘sermons’ about Christian Identity. This would also be a similarly pivotal moment in my life, but more on that later. When I turned twenty-one my friend took me to some really cool clubs around the city where there were great bands and interesting people to meet. I really like this scene even though it was majority enemy stuff.
This was also the time that skinheads were getting in the news. There were some rather famous incidents that occurred at the time that I will not get into as it comes a little too close to getting too specific. I did not want to become a “formally associated” person. I was trying to finish up my college degree. In my final year of school I acquired the prison address of the man that the media called “the leader” of this “skinhead gang” that was involved in some newsworthy incidents. Until that time I was more a fan but then I was becoming more of an activist. I began writing letters and receiving replies from this notorious fellow and so began my more “formal” involvement in politics.
Returning to Skrewdriver of a few years previous, when I became aware of them, they had just put out a new record and by great chance I was able to buy it out of a record store. Once I heard this band it was truly life-changing. I quickly went on to collect every single album they made before and since. I went on to compile quite a collection of other similar stuff and it would not even be practical to begin to explore this genre here. I will say that Skrewdriver had such an uplifting and fresh sound compared to the preponderance of American hardcore which was very dark and angry. (Not that there is anything wrong with that.)
My story is jumping back and forth over the course of about 3 or 4 years here. These years were very eventful: the couple years before and after graduation. It is difficult to tell it exactly in order. Also, at the same time was when I met the woman I would go on to marry. I had dated a few girls in high school and just out of high school but I could never take it seriously because I had no plan. But now I was going to have a college degree and a good job I hope and I was thinking more seriously about things. Turning 21 greatly facilitated meeting people. She was someone I met at a place that was playing the underground music: hardcore, punk, metal but very little Oi. There are some painful memories there, mostly because when you are older and wiser you can see the mistakes or maybe I should say possible mistakes because everything kind of worked out it seemed. We now have a term, white knighting, which probably described my situation. It is embarrassing to admit such things but hindsight is always 20/20. So, this young woman had problems: drugs, an out-of-wedlock child, intermittent employment, and she failed to finish high school. But she was interested in the lifestyle that I was seeking. I would soon be graduating college, I was interested in clean-living, I wanted family and natural things. It would be easy to condemn such women as dumpster-fires and it would not be incorrect to do so. But how few people would ever go on to do great things in life if not given more chances? Sure, in retrospect, I shudder. But this woman went on to embrace my ideals, my music, bring five more great white kids into this world, do the whole homeschooling bit, natural family planning, Christian Identity, skinhead scene, trad-life and all the rest. She eventually went back to a degenerate life but for twelve years she was a model citizen. Can we really say that that was a waste?
It has been a few days since I have written, which helps because I want to keep the important lessons and purpose of this piece in view. It is easy to get lost in the weeds in this. I am recalling some events from the 80s which were on my mind: The Order and the death of Robert J. Matthews, the murder of Gordon Kahl, the space shuttle Challenger disaster. I remember seeing that last one on a TV in a lounge at school. The shock of seeing something like that on TV was something unforgettable. This was before cable TV and internet were commonly available.
I graduated college and got a good job in my field. I worked at a mid-sized industrial plant and I was very unpolished and young. I would get into stupid arguments with blacks on race and politics. Unfortunately, this lesson took me a while to learn. When you are armed with good information and tactics from white nationalism you must be careful, because the enemy will notice that you are not staying within the lines. Our arguments are strong and you will find that the enemy will not be able to counter them. But it is worse than useless to argue these things anywhere with negroes, even less so on the job. Make sure you tell any young or new person this. Our ideology is a loaded hand grenade and it is the truth. But I was keen to take on anyone on the street, relatives, at church, or on the job.
So, this company I was working at was owned by Jews. Most of the managers and top people were Jews. I tried to be careful around them but it was only years later that I started to perceive the way I was coming off. I had some tattoos already and they were noticed in the locker room by negros. I know some people will say that negroes are not the real problem but I disagree. They are deeply anti-white, petty, and mean. I have dealt with them on the job for over 30 years. They are not liberals, just like other non-whites are not liberals. Most liberals are white. Liberalism is a by-product of affluent quality of life. Non-whites vote or support democratic candidates and policies because they are anti-white. Just like in Europe where the Muslim and left-wing parties unite to defeat the nationalist parties. This is the fallacy of electoral politics. And we can never have common cause with them.
I noticed one thing in this environment: when the enemy figures you out they will get friendly with you and engage you. They know that they want to keep their friends close and their enemies closer. And it can only work out badly for you because eventually you will make a little mistake. I got in this dumb argument with a Jew in the cafeteria about gun rights when the “Federal Assault Weapons Ban” was being debated. There was gaining momentum to ban semi-automatic rifles and large capacity magazines due to massacres in Stockton, CA and Killeen, TX in those times.
I was scheduled to work on a Saturday and not only that but it was a day I had wanted off because an old friend of mine was getting married and I was invited. The superintendent told me not to insist on the day off because I was new and he did not want the plant manager to be disgusted with me. I was getting ready for work on that Saturday afternoon and the plant manager calls me and says there was an accident at the plant and not to come in. Turns out a couple guys died and a bunch more were injured doing periodic maintenance work. The old plant had a rail line going through it. It was how they received raw materials decades before then. The railroad ties were preserved with cresol. The Jews decided to get rid of them by ripping them out and throwing them in the furnace. (The irony!) The by-products went into the baghouse. When a 2-man crew (a negro and a Mexican, but they were veterans) went in to shake down the baghouses (as they had done countless times before) for that furnace they were killed by the dust. When they did not take their break, others went in to find out what happened. The next guy got overcome by the fume and fell 15 feet from the catwalk on top of another guy. Guys kept going up there to investigate and getting hurt. Eventually it was found that the negro had “fell-out” (I will borrow this negroism) inside the baghouse compartment and the Mexican’s body was found at the compartment hatch, half-way into the compartment. More than a dozen guys in total were injured or killed in this incident.
The layoffs started happening and eventually the plant went out of business within two years. That’s Jews for you.
Ah yes, the Jews…. Backtracking a little: I had a tenuous relationship with religion since age eighteen. It was not that I did not want to believe, it’s just that religion is such a bad look. Some of us that are older have received a certain affection for the things of the faith from a young age. We have observed to one another that it is evident from interacting with some of our comrades of a certain age that inculcation of religious ideas and feelings really dropped off in the parents of younger gen Xers, perhaps regrettably. They are absent some of those things, like a love and affection for characters from religion such as Jesus Christ and the Blessed Mother. For that person, discussion of religion is purely academic, I suppose but I have heard the sentiment among such that they wish at times that their parents had given them that thing.
I can observe that few have much of any kind of belief and even fewer attend any kind of church. Certain ideas about an absolute type of creed and the upholding of a moral code seems so impractical in the 21st century. But at the same time it seems that the unspoken feeling is that when we were at our best, those times (in history) were accompanied by Christianity. There is a cycle that you can hear recur: the degeneracy and invalidity of this current order is critiqued in a way that leads one back to other ideas that have their consonance in religion but there again you encounter….The Jew.
When I was in my last year or so of college I would learn about the Christian Identity message from a colleague, a really remarkable man. When I was in the gym, I would see this old man working out on the heavy bag. I remarked to myself that this guy had to be in his 70s. The guy was big and built. When I took a student position at a technical center I would meet this guy, a PhD in his field. As I got to know him, he explained many important things to me. He showed me a picture of him when he was young. Apparently, he had been a boxer. This guy looked like a sculpture of a Greek God, heavily muscled with big V-shaped back. (Turned out he was part Greek.) One time, he came into work and told me how he beat the shit out of some young guy the previous night for smarting off to him. I could only believe him.
It took me at least 3 or 4 years to get to the point that I understood and accepted the Christian Identity message. Probably some readers will scoff at this subject. I could not blame anyone for taking this position when you consider all the child molesters, faggots, and charlatans associated with religion. It is easy to paint it all with the broad stroke of the brush. There is a certain type of person in our scene that is inclined to take a very anti-Christian point of view and are given to fervent expression of it. I am not against this person per se; I understand him.
From my young adulthood I began to notice that there were certain things wrong with religion. As I began to understand the Jewish problem more there were things I could not square with religion. Jews are thought of as another race and yet the average white person cannot positively and reliably identify one. It really takes some talent and practice to do it. I was talking to a colleague in the plant with whom I felt safe to speak about white nationalism. When I spoke of the Jews, he said that he could not name one and did not know what they looked like. I said, “You know, like Jerry Seinfeld…” This is why American whites are inclined to be sympathetic to the Jews in the bastard state of Israel. It appears to them like the fair-haired, white skinned Israelis versus the dark-skinned lawless gangs of Palestinians.
Growing up, my aunts were fanatical Catholics and they had this venerated statue of the Blessed Mother in their homes, and a bunch of people would go and pray the rosary there. It had some kind of miracles associated with it. Anyway, the statue was a beautifully detailed rendering of this white woman, Mary. (I want to say that the image is consistent with the one that is associated with Our Lady of Fatima.) I started to notice this in all the icons, stations of the cross, paintings, statues, stained glass windows, crucifixes, all of this art featured white people: Adam, Eve, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Christ, the Apostles, Saints from all eras of church history. If you were a Protestant maybe you would say that these were just convenient images on which to hang a name tag. But not if you are Catholic. For the Catholic, most of these images are literally revealed from heaven. Someone might guess about what God the Father looks like but these other images are clearly intended to be historical likenesses. If you are going to say that the Church made these convenient, attractive images to fool the people and inspire faith, then you are not someone who believes at all in the Church. After all, how could anyone be inspired by gazing upon a kinky-haired, hook-nosed, bow-legged, olive-skinned Jew on a crucifix, right?
Since Vatican II the churches are not made to be serene and majestic as they once were, but ugly and uninspiring. They also took away the realistic and historical appearances of characters of the faith. What other changes came along with all this?
I remember in the 90s I saw a Discovery Channel program about the iconography of Christ’s face and how artists through the ages have observed a consistent ratio of facial proportions so that at least in traditional art you always kind of know that it is Him. In the 60s there was a prominent stage production of the Passion that caused a great uproar because an African was cast in the role of Christ. George Lincoln Rockwell wrote about it in his book, White Power. If Christ was a negro then why was this so controversial? Did race matter? Christ was always shown as a white man in art and in recent movies like Jesus of Nazareth (Franco Zeffirelli’s film from the 70s) and The Passion. I recall a skit from Saturday Night Live in the 70s where the Jew Gilda Radner played a teen-age girl infatuated with the blue-eyed Jesus from the movie, Jesus of Nazareth.
This ambiguity of race between whites and Jews was weighing on my mind. I mean, what box do Jews check on their drivers’ licenses? You can hear the question come up in conversation all the time, including in “our guy” podcasts. One person will say, “Oh, I like this actor, blah, blah.” Another will respond, “He is a Jew.” The first will say, “Is he? No, he’s not!” And then someone will smash that early life and so on. If we were talking about negroes, we could not have this argument. So being a Jew is something different than being black, yellow or brown. In fact, middle-easterners look at Jews as being eastern Europeans and not belonging in Palestine for that very reason.
I have been told that the problem of Jews appearing white is a manifestation of crypsis. Yes, but not the way you think. I remember seeing a photo of Saddam Hussein’s cabinet and many of them looked white. I have personally known Syrians who could pass for white. There are many examples of people throughout that region that look white, so, it’s not just Jews playing crypsis. Some may think it is ridiculous that I suggest that whites are the true Israelites but you can’t even tell the difference unless you are specially trained. I was at a gig arguing with a Mexican about why I did not accept Jews as white and he said, “But they have white skins?” Yes, obviously, anthropologically we are related in a way but we don’t accept them. They are bastards. Just like every other race. I remember reading an article in Life or Time magazine years ago. There was a pictorial of a bunch of different interesting photographs. One of them was of the chief rabbi in Israel. He was examining an orange for defects using a magnifying glass. He had this beautiful flowing red hair and beard. If you did not understand these ideas I am trying to get across and you did not understand the Jew problem you might be forgiven for thinking this man was white.
I am not of course saying that we should accept Jews in any way. I am trying to gird you in a way so you have some tools in the toolbox for handling more complicated arguments. You need to think about these things in a deeper way. If Christianity is a Jew-worshipping religion, all races are good and created by God and inter-racial marriage is good then Christianity should be rejected and opposed. But if we reject it then we have a very shallow history indeed and I am not exactly sure what we think we need to fight for.
I began to hear and read things about even the word, Jew. Apparently, it is a more recent word, like maybe the twelfth century. It is similar to a French word, iewe. I can tell you that it is not in my Latin missal. They did not have the letter “J” until something like the 16th century. Have you ever seen the crucifix with the letters on it: INRI? Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudaeorum. No Js. It is true that the word in Latin or some other languages is different but the meaning remains the same, Jew. I only point this out as an entrée to show that when you begin to scratch the surface of this topic, things are not what they seem. You may think I am belaboring the point but let me state that all I hear about constantly is “Jews” and I am saying this term is confusing because it is obfuscating some things.
The word “Jew” does not appear in your modern English language bibles until Esther 2:5. So let’s try this little exercise: those people being referred to as Jews in that verse were people that belonged to the ‘House of Judah’. OK, so those people are Jews. That country was the result of a secession of the other 10 (of 12) tribes in a civil war, of sorts. That other country became known as the ‘House of Israel’. So, those people are Jews, too, I suppose because they are (were) the countrymen of the ‘House of Judah’ people. OK. So when they were all one kingdom they had kings like Solomon, David and Saul – so those have to be Jews, too. So we can keep going back, Joshua, Moses, Jacob, Isaac, Abraham, Enoch, Adam and Eve – all Jews, right?
Well, I am not going to bore you with a bible study here but consider that the word Jew in my missal and in the original languages is understood better by us now to be “Judean” and means like a citizen of a region (like a Texan in Texas, or like a Judaean in the Roman province, “Judaea”, and may or may not imply something about race depending on the time and place), or a member of the tribe of Judah (a Judah-ite, you might say), or someone belonging to the ‘House of Judah’ which was a result of the dissolution of the kingdom of Israel in the Old Testament.
Also, consider that this is a long story with a lot of twists and turns. I am just going to give you some food for thought and maybe we can talk about it in depth some other time. God made Adam and Eve but it does not talk about Him making all these other diverse races. The allegory of trees used for people and nations is all over the bible. There was a problem in the Garden of Eden, something about eating of the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. It can be heard to be remarked in different contexts about the “original sin”, such as literature and music and let’s just say that the reference is not about eating apples. For example, I refer you to the song, Original Sin by INXS. Go read the lyrics. “Dream on White Boy, Dream on Black Girl.” There is another song, Original Sin by Elton John. It’s not gay, though he is. And there are plenty of other references in literature and elsewhere to make my point. The term “Original Sin” is understood to be a sexual transgression. Virgins that are vol-cels and not so because ugly or retarded are esteemed as something special, certainly before this degenerate age. Why?
I have heard the Biblical Jacob had stolen Esau’s birthright but it actually says that Esau ‘despised’ his birthright. Despised it how? He took foreign wives and he took to the mountains of Edom. His descendants were known as Edomites and God said that He literally hated the Edomites. Turns out that a few centuries before Christ the Edomites were ‘converted’ to the faith of the Israelites. By the time of Christ they had supplanted many of the true Israelites in government and religion. Does this resemble anything from our current day? You may recall that Herod the Idumean (Edomite) attempted to kill the Christ-child for some reason.
Going back in time, Jacob had twelve sons which became the patriarchs of the twelve tribes of Israel. One of them, Judah was to be the kingly tribe, producing kings, especially one very important King, the Messiah. But Judah married Bethshuah, a Canaanite. They produced three sons, Ur, Onan and Selah. Tamar, a true Israelite, married Ur but God killed him. She was passed off to Onan but God killed him, too. After a while it became clear that she would not be given to Selah. This was important in a society where women relied on marriage and bearing a male child to secure their well-being. (Marrying well and producing male heir(s) remains among the most important things a woman can do for herself in our time, even if everybody does not want to admit it.) So, Tamar (a true Israelite) seduced her father-in-law, the drunk Judah (and a true Israelite) and produced the twins Pharez and Zerah. Christ would spring from the line of Pharez, a genuine Israelite without falseness (John 1:47). (Judah and Selah went on to produce Canaanite bastard children with other wives.)
So I am not saying that Jews are white. We should not accept them. They are of their father, who was a murderer from the beginning. I am saying that it is a case of the wheat and the tares. They can be indistinguishable until they show themselves. Wheat and tares will look almost the same until the harvest time when the wheat bends over, heavy with wheat-berries. The (proud) tares remain standing tall so that the reaper’s scythe can catch them up, off to the flames, I presume. They are the “rotten figs of Judah”. Read Jeremiah 24. There was a good basket of figs in Judah (Christ’s line) and the bad figs who would be a “curse and a reproach unto the kingdoms of the earth”. Does that sound like anyone you know?
There are a great many things I have learned on this topic and I could go on and on. It is a very interesting field of study. After all, why is all of this so important? Aside from the religion and that He is our blood, our Kinsman-Redeemer, our whole civilization is entwined with the history of the church. Our morals and jurisprudence are founded on Christianity. Our culture, our holidays, our very names are all bound up with it. My greatest desire is to give you back your religion which was taken from you. Whether you believe in God or not, when you go into a beautiful church, I want you to think, our people. When you hear the sublime and mystical Gregorian chant raise up, I want you to think, our people. When you see the heroes enshrined in stained glass, I want you to think, our people. When you gaze upon a statue of the beautiful Virgin and the Holy Infant, I want your heart to well up with sacred emotion and think, our people. One might ask, “What about the pagans?” I can only say that many pagan stories tell similar stories as we have in Christianity.
Christ said, “I have come only for the lost sheep of the House of Israel.” How did they get lost? Where did they go and how did they get there? Check out 1 Maccabees 12:23. Apparently the Spartans and the Hebrews are related according to this verse.
I am going to shift from the rationale behind Christian Identity to explain the practical side of how it influenced my life. My wife at the time was a good sport as I met her about half-way through my transformation to Christian Identity.
I remember reading an article in Time magazine about The Order, Bruderschweigen (Brothers’ Silence), Robert J. Matthews, and all that. In it they said that Christian Identity was a racist religion which regarded Whites as superior, Jews as satanic and blacks as subhuman. That sounds good to me, I thought. I got turned on to Richard Butler and Aryan Nations, Mike Hallimore and Kingdom Identity Ministries, Peter J. Peters and Scriptures for America, and Fr. Daniel Jones and Sangre de Christo, (more recently Bill Finck and Christogenia.org), among others that I cannot recall. But after a few years of consuming cassette tapes and VHS tapes I noticed this: Other than the racial stuff none of these entities could agree doctrinally on anything. They could not agree on the most basic thing: How do you become a Christian?
As time went by, I could see the same controversies about theology creeping up again and again. You could find almost any kind of doctrine within Christian Identity: Baptist ideas, Church of Christ ideas, Worldwide Church of God ideas, and even Catholic ideas. This would often lead to people denouncing each other. As for me, I have a definite opinion about many religious ideas but that does not mean I will not hear out somebody else’s concepts, whether Christian or not, Protestant or Catholic, religious or atheistic, or something else. We should agree and disagree on this issue as comrades. It is not that our differences are not important – they are – but we must never allow religious controversies to divide us. You are either pro-white or anti-white. In my experience nearly all white nationalists have the same ethics, we want the same type of society, we value the same types of morals, whatever our rationales may be. My family and I would attend these Christian Identity camps in the 90s and I recall one funny “argument” where I got into a disagreement with some guys because I celebrated Christmas. They were very serious that I should not celebrate Christmas. I can only say that if you are not going to celebrate His birthday you better not celebrate anything else.
Before I moved out of the city my friend got out of prison and we worked on some great projects. We would leaflet gigs. We wrote some songs together and tried to start a band with Terry Bones, guitar player and drummer from Broken Bones, Subhuman, Ministry and Revolting Cocks. We had a couple great years together. He had written a great bit of fiction and had it on consignment in some local book stores. He met this young lady, Reina. She was from Nebraska but was now living in the big city. We brought her into our scene. There were a bunch of skinheads hanging around us. I am not going to go into all that. They had a whirlwind romance but because of his excessive drinking and antics he got arrested for spray painting a swastika on a synagogue by mistake. You may be thinking that’s ridiculous but you must understand that in the city you may have a series of establishments all joined together: a pharmacy, a dry cleaner, a synagogue, a currency exchange etc. In a drunken carousal he was spraying some graffiti and some of it ended up on a synagogue. So he got five years in prison! People in prison would think he was lying because how can you get five years in prison for graffiti? Mexicans do not get five years in prison for covering everything in graffiti; they just get made to clean it up. But then Reina came up pregnant and my friend went in the joint and her heart was broken and she lost the baby or got an abortion. She married a tattooist who was maybe Jewish and then left him and moved to Iceland. I’m in touch with her but she does not say much.
When the guys got killed at the plant, I had to take another job and I moved my family, five of us at that time, to another city, though relatively nearby. It was during this time, the early to mid-90s, that I got serious about studying, not just reading, Mein Kampf. I had messed around with it a little in high school but now I was reading it carefully, page by page. I would go on to read it at least four times since. I ask the reader to begin studying it now and re-read it every 5 years or so. It is as immediate as though it was written yesterday. It is a history lesson. It is poetic. It is spiritual. It is deeply moving. It is essential reading. You may be a seasoned white nationalist but if you have not read Mein Kampf yet, you will forever mark your days as “Before Reading Mein Kampf” and “After Reading Mein Kampf.”
I was and am very idealistic about the ethics of family life. Going into the marriage I was morally opposed to artificial birth control. My wife and I had taken a class that lasted four weeks at a local hospital shortly after getting married in the early 90s. All forms of artificial birth control have bad side effects, are unaesthetic, are unnatural, and are immoral. I could write pages on this topic. This separation in people’s minds of love, sex and procreation is absolute cancer to marriage and civilization. The promiscuous lifestyle that some people may indulge or reminisce about is made possible only by this Jewish invention of artificial birth control. By periodic abstinence you will stoke the flames of desire for your mate. Think of the times you loved to hear her voice and you could not wait to see her, maybe to catch a glimpse of some cleavage. All of those feelings are bound up with love and desire. If we always keep ourselves wanting, whether in the bedroom or at the dinner table, we will find our emotional health and physical health to be balanced and strong. I have spoken at length about the efficacy and morality of natural family planning on the show. I hope you have heard that one. This is a topic we should return to from time to time. Artificial birth control is not only poison to your body but also to your soul.
Continuing on my idealism: My wife and I were also interested in natural childbirth. She delivered two children drug-free. Two were induced. She did ‘ecological’ breast feeding (i.e., on demand) for five children. Ecological breastfeeding will space the babies out every two to three years. It worked out pretty close to that for me. It was not until much later when my second wife was ill that I would come to rely more strongly on natural family planning.
From the early to the mid-90s we used only cloth diapers until I could not afford the pick-up service anymore. Cloth diapers are more natural and are more healthful. The problem with disposable diapers is that the baby will have wet diapers for a long time because they do not feel the wetness. This also delays potty training. Cloth diapers are a little more trouble but the wife should be home tending to the children and not trying to juggle some kind of “other” job. We were kind of poor due to our single income.
Once the children were getting old enough, I was interested in home-schooling. Whenever I would tell people about home-schooling, they would often say, “Oh, I don’t think I could do that.” Let me tell you, I am not going to say that I have done or am doing a good job at home-schooling. Only God can judge me. My interest was to keep my children away from the brain-washing of public (and private) schools, negroes, gangs, drugs and school shootings. They really educate themselves. I think to be a human being is to be naturally curious until the school system drives out that natural curiosity.
When we moved from the big city to the other city, we found that there was a large and active home-schooling scene there. A subset of this movement consisted of these traditionalist Catholics that had their own group within the group. They all attended this small, private chapel where the traditional Latin Mass was offered. That sounded good to me so we tried it. This was to be another pivotal moment in my life. These families were impressive: 6, 7, or 8 children in some of them. The dads were all professional guys. The wives were all attractive and feminine – and white.
I found many of the traditional Catholic doctrines to be very illuminating. I found a great sense of continuity about the Mass. I imagined our ancestors and heroes – Hitler, Napoleon, Louis IX, Richard the Lionheart, Charlemagne – all kneeling, praying the same prayers, participating in the same rites as me. The traditional Mass is a ritual of great dignity where you can pray, contemplate life and enjoy a beautiful, meaningful experience with your family. It is not only something you observe but something you do. I found the sacrament of confession to be extraordinarily liberating. Receiving the eucharist became something that I looked forward to every week. Sometimes I would go during the week because I lived nearby. I would eventually become an altar server, learning Latin and all of the sacred duties by heart. I had all of my children baptized. The patron of the little chapel was the owner of one of the foremost Catholic book publishers in the world. He knew a lot about the Jews and we had many interesting conversations. Those were really great years.
I even met some Catholics that knew the Christian Identity message. Imagine that! In the early years of my association with traditionalist Catholics I tried to discuss Christian Identity with the priest and with the book publisher. They did not condemn me and they were somewhat interested in it but they did not think it was the penultimate truth that I found it to be. I suppose I would describe their understanding to be that they so esteemed the Mass and the Catholic sacraments so highly that they saw issues of race as being not unimportant but far less important than I did. Well, they are not perfect but they really gave form and substance to my Christian life.
There are many great websites now that provide traditional sermons on mp3, online masses and contacts. If you want more information you can contact me. But tread lightly as you are going to encounter a certain amount of conservative types, though usually not kosher. I kept up my skinhead ways and got into some local media trouble. I have all the slanderous, black-baiting news reports on VHS and I hope in some future Nuremburg-style trials we will bring it out as evidence against people like [redacted]. You will recognize him when I [redacted] and send my family out of town and move all my stuff to a new address. The wonderful people at the chapel gave me money to help me move. God bless them and I never forget the kindnesses they or any of you have given my family and me. It is my solemn vow to repay everything times 10.
The children continued to arrive, and finally…a daughter. I never had a sister, nieces, or female cousins. There have been very few girls in our extended family – almost all sons. But finally I had a daughter and I cannot really describe the sense of joy and elation at her birth. As she has progressed into adulthood, she shares many traits with me: our taste in music (black metal), beer (sour beer), and instrument (guitar). In the 90s I got turned onto Black Metal which really transformed my musical tastes. I continued to love and listen to Oi and hardcore and some techno. I developed a passion for Burzum which has continued to this day. Just like Oi there are many bands worth talking about in this genre but that would be another entire paper unto itself.
I bought a house. And then another daughter came. What can I say but that I was so very, very proud. I hope each of you, dear readers will know that feeling someday in life.
I began to get uncomfortable in my job. Some things were happening in the company that I did not care for. Plus, we never really liked this second-city. We were big city people and aspired to return ‘home’ someday. After 7 years there, an opportunity came up for me to make a move to a bigger company, more money and more responsibility in the big city. I was broke so I was going to move first and save up some money and then eventually move the family.
I have been somewhat a workaholic throughout my adult work life and in the new job my circumstance permitted me to become an even worse workaholic. But my intention was to cement my new position and get financially better to give my family the life they deserved. I would stay in the big city and return to the other city on most weekends. Since the last baby my wife stopped going to church, ostensibly because she was so tired that she needed to sleep in. While I was working in the city all week, she started going down the block to smoke dope with some hippies. It began gradually but over time she completely withdrew from everything we were into. Eventually she got a tubal ligation. It may be easy from your position to say that I should have simply put my foot down, to which I would say that you should show me how to do it then because it is not as easy as you think. If I had to say what I could do differently or how I might advise someone else I would say that you must reserve as much time as possible to spend with your wife. Another important lesson is that women between the ages of 36 and 40 are really at risk. I have seen it play out time and time again of women in that age range since my experience. It is really uncomfortable to say it and I am really sorry to any women reading this because I am sure they are not all like this (NAXALT). Women in this range can be very deceptive, promiscuous and capricious. Everything can seem fine. Sex life can be great. Your plans can seem firm and it can all change in an instant. This is facilitated in that women are given rights in this society that they simply ought not have.
I had sold my house in the second city (which was really a miracle) and my wife had picked out a house in the big city weeks before. I went under contract to buy the house and then less than one week before closing she said she was not moving, and in fact, she did not want to be married anymore. I begged and pleaded in the most pathetic way. I agreed to any concession. I have heard that a lot of break-ups happen due to the stress of a move. Also, this was right after 9/11. I have heard that some people freak out after major tragedies. Keep these things in mind, you married guys. Even the best women can be very unstable in their moods. I carried through with the new house hoping she would snap out of her craziness. She could be extremely unpredictable like that. But it was simply not to be.
She got really crazy for a while. I was distraught as I was afraid to lose everything I was working toward. She would alternate between threats and mixed-signals. I would have done anything to save the situation. Of course I was praying to save it. She was getting some kind of bullshit advice because she started spouting legal-sounding pronouncements that sounded doubtful to me. At last I did the unthinkable and hired a lawyer. As much as I hated it, she really changed her tune once she was contacted by him. I guess some people are just like that. Some people are reasonable and other people can only be managed by threats. I went through some really tough times because I believe in the permanence of marriage and hated the indignity of divorce. I worried about maintaining control of my kids and how I would lead my life going forward – one year, two years, five years, ten years. It was easy to feel sorry for oneself – at that age, broke, loaded down with kids, divorced, pathetic. I eventually dated a girl I liked many years ago. She was kind of a mess in the same way according to the age range I described. I did not stick with her.
Eventually I was settled into the new house but I was depressed. I was advised to talk to a local priest. I was not involved in any local church. After hearing my situation he offered and explained that an annulment was possible and appropriate. I had not even thought about this or whether it was even a possibility. I had no idea about marriage at that point but thinking that it was a possibility really helped my outlook.
At the time I did not understand the woman’s age problem. I thought maybe I could find some woman my age that had learned life’s hard lessons and maybe settle down to a happy life. I was wrong. Women past a certain age that are alone are often alone for a reason. They figure out how to live alone and even though they might say they want to meet someone, they are too accustomed to their ways to have any real ambition to make a change. Going into marriage requires the driving force that comes from youth.
No, it turns out that I was to go ‘young’. There was a young woman, a teenager at the time that I was attending the Christian Identity camps in the 90s that came to be friends with us. We kept in touch a little bit here and there through the years. She was somewhat into the same music scene as me. After my big break-up I happened to call her and chat a little bit. She lived far away and was doing other things in life, going to school, dating. It was not unusual for us to say hi once in a while. She had been friends with my ex-wife, too. But I will admit I had begun to think about her in a new way.
Some months went by and then she called to say that she wanted to come out and visit. I arranged for her to fly out. We each found that we were in similar place in life: serious, wanting to do good things in life, alone, tired of dealing with fake people. We had the Christian Identity understanding and music interests in common. Her father was active in the Christian Identity movement and he had taken her to the camps in the 80s and 90s – that’s where I had met her. Within a year we were married. The marriage was performed in the area where she lived by a priest who had a connection to Father Daniel Jones that I mentioned previously with the Traditional Latin Mass Council and Sangre de Christo magazine. She was interested in the traditionalist movement and she joined on at a local church with me in the city.
The children proceeded on through home-schooling all the way through high school. We had another child come along, a son. My wife has a medical condition that complicates pregnancy so we were very blessed to have him. She went on to have two miscarriages. It was tough to deal with those. They haunt you for a long time. My father-in-law, who believed in many or most conspiracy theories, alternative medical treatments and DIY approaches to life, was advising my wife of all kinds of ‘treatments’ for her condition but she only became worse. Eventually, she sought more professional medical advice and began treatment which actually improved her condition.
My father-in-law, mother-in-law, and wife had a very tenuous history together. Her parents were divorced. There was hostility on all sides at different times when some parties would not see or speak to each other for months or years. Through our marriage those relationships seemed to heal as they saw my wife take on the role of wife and mother. They saw her make great accomplishments through her married life. Even her parents seem to forgive each other and reconcile to a degree. I recall the beautiful (though thrifty) wedding we planned. It was very joyful and many remarked it was one of the most wonderful weddings they ever attended. We had it in a beautiful, traditional (privately supported, non-diocesan) church. I have pictures I would love to show you sometime.
During the economic down-turn of 2008 the company I was working for had a hard time as did the entire industry. The man who owned the business decided to get out of it and sold to a group of people that came from one of our competitors. His mother and sister had died in the last one and two years and I think his head was not in the game anymore. The yahoos that took over were absolutely incompetent and crazy. They gave themselves big fancy salaries and liked to flaunt their wealth. They openly fostered an us vs. them mentality. There were so many crazy situations and accidents during my 10 months with them that I could write a volume about it. After 10 months of trying to help these retards, I came home one night and typed my credentials into a job search engine. I got a job at a major OEM making great money with great benefits shortly thereafter.
This job involved a lot of travel and took me all over the country to interact with many interesting companies. It was a tough job but after a year or two I started to figure it all out and came to be respected by all the people I worked with. I enjoyed the prestige of working for this company and it really was an education that could not be bought. I saw processes and systems of world class companies far beyond the likes of those I had worked for. It was difficult to be traveling that much and there is nothing so pathetic as being stuck in an airport due to a delayed flight on a Friday night all alone. It was at this time that I began to come to grips with my depression. Since college I would have bouts of depression in which I would completely give up hope. They may or may not have real causes but the severity of them could be crippling. All of the travelling I was doing caused me to see how my moods would rise and fall.
Back in the 90s I acquired a traditional book called The Four Temperaments that really helped me at the time but I began to study it more now and I learned that my constitution is simply inclined to this state of mind. I also learned from religion that embracing despair is a very serious sin. Just like we would criticize degenerates, thots, or other things we do not like, embracing despair is a serious offense against morality. To put yourself beyond the reach of God, to imagine your circumstances are so hopeless and worse than anybody else’s is a very serious error that I had missed. In fact, one must repent of this. Once I began down this road with these new tools, I began to make progress for what seemed to be the first time in life against this menace.
After five years of travelling I decided to move on. If I wanted to stay with this company but get out of the travelling gig, I was going to have to take a position in one of the plants – which would mean moving – and I was in no position to do so. I took a position with a nice little company that was producing parts vital for the functioning of the economy. They were very good to me and I loved the people. I did just a little bit of traveling, which was perfect. I was proud of my accomplishments there and in time I earned the respect of my colleagues. After three years I began to see fault lines form in the company. The owner took on a partner – an Indian man – with 81% ownership. A strange tension began to arise. I saw a few things that I did not care for.
Meanwhile, two of my sons began working at another technical company. They had repeatedly tried to lure me over there for some years. I was not opposed to going there but it had not been the right time. Now, it seemed the right time. So, after three years I made a move to go work with my sons at this other company. My sons were working their way through college and went on to work on advanced technical degrees. They are very accomplished and I am very proud of them. My other adult children are finding their ways in life but everyone is employed so really, I am not so concerned about exactly what they want to do, only so long as they are gainfully employed and not asking me for money.
In this most recent phase of my life is when the Alt-Right and “our guy” podcasts arose. This movement has been the cause of a great coalescence of our people exceeding in quantity and stability the skinhead associations I had in the 80s and 90s. The skinhead scene was great in that it brought people together who really wanted to do something to save our people. A certain amount of those people were troubled, drunks and/or drug users. Just like the white wing of the 80s, it brought out the misfits and strange people. But we should not lament this because it was their oddness that protected them from brainwashing. But now white nationalism has got into the management class and just like in the Soviet Union, once the mentality reached the minds of the people with their hands on the levers of the machinery of society, it was all over. This has happened now, here. The system knows it and that is why they are freaking out.
I am known as Sam since the Fatherland podcast and now Full Haus. “Sam” was simply a convenient contraction of my long-time screen name since before the days of the Alt-Right, Sanguinem Aryan, which means Aryan Blood in Latin. Aryan Blood is one of my favorite black metal bands by the way. I was honored to be on a TDS broadcast some years ago with Mike Enoch. We had Seventh Son on the Fatherland for a broadcast. I have tremendous admiration for these men and I have met many other fine men and women in this thing we have. I am always impressed by the listeners of the shows and the people I meet at events. There is no doubt we have the sharpest, funniest, most resourceful and capable people on our side. My colleagues on Full Haus are among the most stellar people I have ever met.
My young son is a full-on Zoomer, the type you hear stories about. Two older sons are politically aware and are working on advance degrees. Another son manages a serious business and leans our way. My oldest daughter has really come around in her understanding of the world. Another daughter likes black metal. The other daughter has a little bit of a strained relationship with me right now, but I am confident it will get straightened out! 88