“Nukes” don’t exist…Nukes are part of Stagecraft, an element in theatrical production, a part of the Theater of War…Actors are called “Histriones”, traditionally…News Report: Football Scores, Celebrity Wedding, Nuclear Firecrackers, Stockmarket, Panda Bears in Zoo…
The Path Before Me – By Arm Of Thor (Kamerad Curt)
They had started the morphine earlier that day. The fentanyl patches no longer worked as a shield for the pain. Staring in disbelief at my father’s sunken face in his hospital bed, withering away, bright blue eyes bulging, fat and flesh sunken to a horrific degree. The aggressive cancer obliterating the pain defenses of the heavy opiates…No defense against the pain…the impending. This fake earth we live on is being sucked dry by the forces that care not for nature or men. This second earth will be dead soon like the moon. Lunar = Death. Evil only cares about enriching Itself and using slaves of Atlantis to their end before moving on. This is accomplished by imposing frameworks for living that defy what is natural, i.e. Capitalism, Democracy and Usury. My father, who passed about a month ago, is symbolic of this world we live in. He was yet another mindless ziobot fumbling through life, but not ever knowing his purpose – he was just another cog in a massive wheel – within the the machinations of The Iron Age. Earth, this wheel, always turning clockwise, away from Nostalgia, further and further into the Age of Iron, destruction through explosion. He passed away not knowing the Truth. The worst death.
The first dream I had was at the broken antenna that is Externsteine, but on the back-side of the holy rock formation. As I looked up at Him in the rocks, where he hung for nine days without even mead to quench His thirst, to rediscover the meaning of the Runes for us. I heard a slight wind at my back, a rustling of the beautifully coloured German Fall leaves. I turned around and saw Him there, looking at me intently. After a moment, I asked Him, “Can I call you Father?” He answered, “Yes, but you do not know why yet.” “When will I know?” “Continue to follow The Path I laid out for you.” He replied. His words were of finality, as though He was certain I would continue to walk the Path of the Pilgrim. I looked back up at the rocks. As I did the air around me was like a vacuum…soundless…completely quiet. Then the very slightest Orphic music mingled with the leaves quietly stirring. I looked back again, but He was gone.
But He is not gone…He had never left me, I was simply not listening to Him. I was too busy doing drugs and whoring and lying, too busy to listen to the ancient wisdom of the blood within. That initial dream was all just my imagination…right? Wrong. Dead wrong. I now always listen to my Blood…within which carries the Nostalgia for what once was…perfection…The Golden Age…Thule Hyperborea. That is where my Father Wotan resides, waiting for the Sons of Wotan/Odin to gather and complete The Final Battalion to wreak unimaginable vengeance upon the Evil that is the Demiurge.
“Loyalty is my Honor”
What is the Earth, but a kind of situation within the perceiving Mind, invaded by parasites of all sorts, infiltrating the harmonious calamity that the Eternal Spirit forces on the souls of all those who enter its englobing and pervasive perpetual discourse. Because the Spirit is free and transcendental, it entraps taking the soul to its appointed ending making one think its something other than oneself. But in the end its your God in you abiding by you in all and eventually through all that’s in your waking and unawakened field of perception. Becoming a concrete thing. To die in some Wasteland. Because the soul needs a better place in which to thrive attaining its abstract beauty. Here where nothing would be decent enough to stand it!
What is it you call the Earth? Is it all the pretty and ugly little things you see and experience? Crowding the outward surface…
View original post 286 more words
History is a pack of lies, about events that never happened, told by liars who were never there….Homer was blind….It’s a joke..LOL… History is a joke, complete and utter bunkum from go to woe… All of Archaeology is a fraud, the beginning of the destruction of the fraud began in 2012…It will be replaced with even bigger lies, the fraudulent his-story will be replaced with more fraudulent his-story! And that will be an even bigger joke. “Usually such museums only allow artifacts and visual displays that are obtuse, objects composed to confuse, not to guide or enlighten but to confuse and mislead the viewer, they call it “historical art” and it is the artistic recreation of an imagined past, the props and the stage sets of fables, art as a contrivance designed for the purpose of confusion via abstraction. Confusion via abstraction is a propaganda technique developed over the centuries into…well, a fine art, one could say. One can understand it this way – anywhere there is a display put up, supposedly for the benefit of the general public and at great cost, one can be sure that it contains contrived forms of propaganda designed to utterly confuse and disorientate the viewer with disinformation, lies and deception, which is why school children are taken to museums.” Third Reich Pilgrim: The Ruins Of Power
An auspicious date for the book release of the English translation of Miguel Serrano’s The Golden Cord: Esoteric Hitlerism. This date coincides with the Waffen SS climbing Mount Elbrus, and the Black Sun Eclipse over America. I have received the printed order for the books on this exact day…This day is also the day that Thor fishes for Jormungand and the Lord God fishes for Leviathan (Job 41:1). The line is made from gut, or intestines, and is the same line that the Church Fathers used. If you would like to commence an ascent by degrees then this is where you should start or within the Trilogy be impressed with the truth so rare that even devils dare not touch it…If there were a window then I guess this would be close to it, for the Nordic-Hyperborean, Ehrean Geist, Gut Heil!
For those who would like to order a copy of this book, you can email: firstname.lastname@example.org
The Re-release of the improved and extended Third Reich Pilgrim: Part 1 – The Ruins Of Power is now available again. This new edition has had five years to mature. The 1st edition was rushed through to meet the deadline of 12-12-12. The book has now been thoroughly proof read, improved and extended. If you have the 1st edition, or missed out on it, then I would recommend you acquire this new improved edition.
For purchase inquires please email: email@example.com
“As I made my way along the quiet path by the Obersee, it reminded me of Mimir’s Well, so still and mysterious it was, a magical mirror-well. In the afternoon shadows I could see the distorted face of a giant’s head in the ravine wall, like the legend of Mimir’s severed head which Odin preserved and placed by the Well under the root of the Cosmic Tree. The severed head would come alive at Odin’s command and speak of truths unknown to any other God.”