This month I'd like to bring you an essay by the anonymous Internet
author Yggdrasil, whose pen name is that of the tree of knowledge which
sheltered the gods in the ancient Nordic religion. He is a White
Californian and self-described "yuppie member of the information elite."
He sometimes abbreviates his
to just Ygg.
Yggdrasil recently traveled extensively by automobile through the
southern fringes of what is still nominally the United States. What he
saw and what he recorded is a warning for all of us in America and
everywhere our people still survive in the world today. Yggdrasil's
essay is entitled "A Drive Through the Empire."
Last week the Ygg and Mrs. Ygg drove from Southern California to Texas
and back. The kids stayed home.
The purpose of the trip was to look at housing in Texas, just in case we
might want to join the great White migration out of Southern California.
The Ole Ygg hasn't gone for a long drive in about 15 years. You see,
yuppies in the information elite fly everywhere. We don't drive. In
fact, on the few occasions when I have told my partners that I am driving the short haul from Los Angeles to San
Francisco, they look at me like I am crazy. The elites would rather
stroll West Los Angeles naked than drive in the open country.
Like most who earn a living in the information industry, I get my
impressions of cities and of regions of the country by what I see in
airports and the glass towers I visit.
Well, it didn't take too many hours on the road in the Southwest to
realize that my view of America from inside airports and the glass
towers was less than a total picture of reality. Once on the road, I was
judging America by the people I saw at gas stations rather than by the
people I saw in its airport lobbies.
What a contrast!
The first impression is that the interstate highways are the exclusive
province of factory workers, farmers, and service workers. Some have
money for nice cars and trucks. Many do not. Generally, none of our
elites are out there on these highways.
This pattern is actually a sharp contrast with the 1950's and the
1960's. Then, the elites vacationed by driving. That was a period of
rapid freeway construction. The new roads were as smooth as glass. The
interstates are much bumpier now. The inescapable impression is that the
United States is no longer willing to invest money in its automotive
highway network. Repairs are spotty. The wrong people use them.
A second inescapable impression is that there are large tracts of the
United States in which Euro-Americans are foreigners.
We all know that Euro-Americans cannot wander the streets of Newark,
Camden, South-Central Los Angeles, most of Detroit, much of Manhattan
Island, and similar venues after dark without a near certainty of death
or mayhem. Euro-Americans cannot enter these venues in daytime without a
visibly obvious reason. In these urban combat zones of America,
Euro-Americans yield the sidewalks in a classic reversal of roles from
the old South.
Driving Interstate 10 from San Diego to El Paso leaves one not so much
with a sense of danger as with a sense of alienation. There is a large
swath of real estate in which you rarely see Euro-Americans. It runs
North from the Mexican border about 100 miles, beginning about 20 miles
inland from the Pacific and extending through Southern Arizona and New
Mexico to San Antonio, Texas. You will see Euro-Americans in the airport
at El Paso, but you will not see any on the streets or roads, nor any
working at any of the motels or fast food outlets.
Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto booming up through the sunroof of a white
Porsche had a dramatic effect on locals who had never heard anything
like it before. They stared in amazement. The culture from which that
auto and its music came were so profoundly alien, there wasn't a hint of
recognition.
In El Paso, like San Diego, the U.S. Government has abandoned control of
the border. Instead, there is an INS checkpoint about one hundred miles
east of the border. It is the same in California, where the real border
begins about 40 miles north of San Diego at the inspection station at
Camp Pendleton, and in Fallbrook on Interstate 15. That is where the INS
begins to apprehend and chase undocumented aliens. But within most of
that 100-mile strip of territory along the border the policy is "don't
ask, don't tell."
Within this nation of Aztlan, Euro-American culture has disappeared. Its
residents will not attack (as in Detroit) but will watch Euro-Americans
with wary suspicion. It is obvious to them that we are "outsiders" who
do not "belong" there.
However, once you hit Austin, Texas, a remarkable transformation occurs.
Euro-Americans are everywhere. You have arrived at the border of the
Euro-American nation.
When you say that you are from California, the Texas real estate agents
explain that there are thousands like you who move there every year in a
mass exodus. Neighborhoods in Texas aren't like California. "People go
to church here. You won't find drugs all over the schools." But if you
aren't comfortable with the overt religiosity of the people, you will
not be comfortable living there.
We took the northern route back, along interstate 40 from Amarillo in
the Panhandle, through Northern New Mexico and Arizona.
We stopped for a bite to eat in Gallup, New Mexico, just off the
Interstate, on old Route 66. There were 60 restaurants, and most looked
like mom and pop operations, so just to be safe we picked a Pizza Hut
franchise and went in. The physical layout of the place was strictly
Pizza Hut, down to the seats, salad bar, and sign that said please wait
to be seated. But this wasn't any ordinary Pizza Hut. The service was
extraordinarily different.
A young lady came over, fumbled and hesitated, and led us to a table
without making eye contact. We waited 15 minutes and began to notice
that the waiters and waitresses seemed to avoid eye contact with us. All
of the workers and all of the patrons were Indians. We were the only
Euro-Americans in the place.
After we had been there about 10 minutes, a man with blonde hair in a
pony tail came in, was seated, waited for about 5 minutes to be served,
and then quietly left. Finally, after 15 minutes, a young man came over
to take our order. The body language was bad. He was stiff and
uncomfortable.
Forty minutes later, and our pizza still had not arrived. Valuable road
time was lost.
While we waited, the counter was doing a land-office business in
carry-out pizza orders. All of the carry-out patrons were also Indians.
Not a single one was White.
Mrs. Ygg was getting angry. Now Mrs. Ygg is not really a White
nationalist. She is non-ideological, something of a racial "liberal," a
fairly typical National Charity League "society mom" instinctively
respectful of society's manners and conventions for preventing ill
feeling and conflict. And it was the breach of public manners that threw
her into a rage. She sensed that the Navajo did not want Whites in their
restaurant and asked why they just didn't post a sign to that effect so
that she could have taken her business elsewhere. She demanded that I go
ask where our pizza was.
I went to the counter, waited two minutes for the waitress to make eye
contact, and then finally blurted out to her back, "How is our pizza
coming along?" The visibly agitated and uncomfortable waitress said, "I
will check," and ran into the back room where the pizzas were being
cooked.
The waitress came out and said she didn't know what happened to our
pizza, but that they would prepare a new one, it would be ready in 12
minutes, and we did not have to pay. Fifteen minutes later the waitress
came over with the pizza, said nothing, and did not make eye contact.
The silent message was, "Eat this and get the hell out of here!"
By this time Mrs. Ygg was ready to re-fight the battle of Little Big
Horn. I tried to calm her. I said, "We are now in the Navajo Nation just
like the sign next door says. They don't mis-label anything. It is our culture that claims race and nation do not exist.
They can be as uncomfortable with us as they want in their nation. We
should do what they say, keep quiet, avoid eye contact, and then leave.
"
Mrs. Ygg said, "BS! This is a retail establishment on a major interstate
highway. They see thousands of Whites. How could they be in business
here and be so uncomfortable with us? They are seething with hostility
and suspicion. Further, all the Indian men in this place are wearing
‘gang pants’ and high tops. They listen to rap music in the back. They
sure as hell understand American symbols of anger!"
I then said, "You know, it is quite strange that the kids who run this
place are so suspicious and uncomfortable. They have had at least four
generations of contact with us along this highway and two generations of
television and they have not learned to put up a friendly front during
business hours. Contact certainly has not produced understanding and
amity. But maybe acting friendly when they don't feel friendly would be
cowardly in their culture. Who knows! But this is what I mean when I
talk to Ygg Jr. about the failure of multi-racial empires. If you had
paid attention, you would know to expect this sort of thing. You would
not now be surprised or offended. It is our presence here with them that
is unnatural, not their breach of the manners that you have expected
them to learn from us."
Mrs. Ygg then angrily said, "I don't care about that. I don't need their
free pizza or their charity! I am going to pay for the pizza!"
The Ole Ygg replied: "No, you are not! They have told us the rules. We
are to eat and get out with no more contact. Insist on paying and you
risk serious conflict. Much as you might like to see me kick these pudgy
little people through the window (as the Koreans taught me to do many
years ago), you know I can't do that, even in self-defense, without my
political views being uncovered and becoming an issue."
As we finished our pizza and walked toward the door, several young
female patrons at the carry-out counter looked at us with alarm, as if
we were men from Mars. They saw the Ole Ygg first and became
uncomfortable, but became much more agitated at the sight of Mrs. Ygg.
It was as if she were George Armstrong Custer.
Curious!
As we drove away, I could not help thinking back to Yggdrasil's Lesson
One, and the thoughts of Professor Barro from Harvard, who observed that
if the "constituent characteristics" of ethnic groups within a single
country differ by too much, it might be wise to split the country into
separate nations. A handy guide occurred to me: Any population that
needs a quota or explicit preference has "constituent characteristics"
that differ enough to justify separation. All you need do is keep the
current questionnaires and administrative apparatus in place.
We continued to drive west. In a little while we reentered the White
Nation that begins in Flagstaff, extends through Kingman, and winds
across the desert to Bakersfield, California. It is a different White
Nation from the traditional one in Texas. It is a nation that knows it
is under attack. Like America's pioneers, they know that the eastern
elites will send the cavalry to protect the black and brown attackers if
they defend too visibly or successfully. They know yuppies when they see
them and they have learned to keep their true feelings and ideas to
themselves.
While sitting in a diner in Kingman, I spotted a copy of The
Arizona Republic reporting the arrest of 30 Aryan Brotherhood
members in Arizona. McPaper had reports of a debate between McVeigh's
lawyer and the prosecutor, as well as an article to the effect that
McVeigh might want to testify at his trial and claim he never touched a
bomb.
It occurred to me that our Euro-American elites are going to be
exceptionally angry and fearful as it becomes more and more apparent
that their integrationist dream is failing. They are likely to blame
these poor working class Whites and pursue them with a vengeance as the
only remaining group within our multiracial empire upon whom they can
enforce their will.
Look for the jails to fill with offenders who cross the line of manners
and belief into the proliferating categories of "hate crimes" applied
selectively on the basis of race and social class. Look for sporadic
mass prosecutions for child molestation in these small towns, as social
workers isolate children from their parents and interrogate them for
weeks at a time behind closed doors to "recover" their memories. Look
for more armed standoffs and fiery deaths. Look for the clever among
these working class Whites to learn the diaspora art of concealing their
true feelings lest they become targets. Marranos of the desert and the
trailer parks!
Herrnstein and Murray were right in their seminal work The Bell
Curve. The information elites have become so profoundly isolated
from working class Whites that they have come to believe that Whites
truly are the passive, emasculated creatures portrayed by Hollywood.
Treatment of poor Whites by our elites and their legal system will not
know any of the usual boundaries of "civil rights" and "civil liberties"
that apply to Blacks or Browns. Our elites see no reason for caution.
"Justice" meted out by our custodial state to poor Whites uppity enough
to think for themselves is likely to be brusque.
Our information elites see America only from the air.
As Yggdrasil intimates, the prospects for White children do not look too
bright in the Third World future planned for America by her currently
ascendant enemies.
But European Americans are still the majority in this country, and it is
our intelligence, our labor, and our consent which holds the evil empire
together. Thence, the potential for Whites to influence the course of
future events is very great indeed. But before we can exercise such
influence we must educate our people so that they know who they actually
are, and what has been done to them by their enemies and by traitors
within their own ranks, and finally to see the necessity of organizing
not only for our own interests but for our very survival as a people.
These are the aims of this newsletter. These are the aims of our radio
programs. These are the aims of our World Wide Web sites.
You know, one of the greatest things in the world today is the Internet,
where freedom of speech still reigns supreme, and your message is just
as powerful and as big and as accessible as the Jewish networks'
message. America's enemies are working hard to change all that, but
while you still can, get on the net and check out this web site.
at
the Battle of Cowpens, S. Carolina, 1781