I could easily self-immolate with the white hot rage over Manchester, piled atop outrage upon obscenity upon atrocity visited on all of us who wanted to maintain some kind of civilisation across the West.
This is just as well, as I’ve been burned regardless and bounced back to blogging due to my heated hostile reaction. Naming people on twitter who are enablers, apologists and disingenuous artists of interference on behalf of those who would maim, kill and dominate us is apparently an excellent way to face the permanent ban stick.
After eight years of tweeting my account is permanently suspended. The replacement account I immediately created was locked within a day of its genesis. I didn’t even swear at anyone the second time round (unless you count ‘Dhimmi’ as a swear-word. We’re probably not far off).
Twitter’s increasingly authoritarian and censorious regime, directed by social justice tossers and executed by white knighting gamma males would get me sooner or later, I knew. The puke inducing double standards and ominous signs of punishment for WrongThink have been visible for a few years now.
I was surprised only by the occasion. Manchester. I’m raging. Everyone with an ounce of rationality and decency is raging. This time we weren’t just witnessing our countrymen & countrywomen, or our near-abroad cousins, being slaughtered in the streets by yet another sub-human murderer ‘known’ to our “intelligence” establishment, again. No. This time children were the specific target. Britain has experienced its very own Beslan. The latter an incident that the irrational Russia-phobes like to forget.
If that isn’t a time to swear and holler and howl – and demand that blood calls out for blood, when is?
Almost every fear I – and so many others – had, from when I first started the Katabasis blog over 10 years ago has come to pass. I’m angrier and more militant than I’ve ever been. We are now at permanent war with both a fifth column, aided & abbetted by allied organisations domestic & foreign on the one hand, and with our worthless shit-sucking establishment on the other, who have presided over rape gangs, FGM, honour killings and mass slaughter whilst harshly punishing those who object.
The despicably evil combination of mass immigration and cultural relativism, purposefully imposed upon us without our consent, has wrought permanent metastasizing cancers through the body of what was once a happy and civilised country. It’s too late for surgery. Chemotherapy is now our only option, whether we want to admit it or not. Not admitting what our lying eyes were telling us in the first place has brought us to this horrific impasse now.
A twitter ban is a blessing in disguise, albeit somewhat bitter to swallow given the circumstances. Demonstrating just how circumscribed speech has become both online and off (see this – beyond belief – example of ‘offline’ policing of speech). The fenceposts are planted around us by people who want to corral and cow us into submission to be slaughtered or used for our by-products, just like animals. I say its time to kick the fenceposts down.
The wonderful thing about my Twitter experience was how cathartic it could be. The worst thing about my Twitter experience was how cathartic it could be. It is a great comfort to know there are so many others out there, across both the West and the world generally who see and feel the same. It is not enough. Time to do more.
Returning to blogging isn’t so much a result, or even an effect. It’s a move to chronicle where I – and maybe many of you who read this – go next. 140 character ephemeral throw away thoughts and reactions served their purpose. Now is a time to consolidate, to consider and then – to push back.
I will keep most of my old posts up at the old site. Those I have taken down will either be reposted here with new additions or developments, or are too far away from where I am now to be relevant. Older and angrier, yet stronger and more secure with it. Not to mention having since developed a healthy mistrust of Google, who may well give me the Twitter/Zuckerbook treatment if I WrongSpeak too often on their platform. Now I host my words with a service that enables me to shift datacentres when the censors come knocking.
The optimism I still maintained just ten years ago gives way to bitter realism and with it, sharper teeth to bite.
Like Phil Campion below, things have suddenly sharpened somewhat into black and white for me and like him I will endeavour to make worthless Metroluvvies such as the Beeboid hack interviewing him increasingly uncomfortable.
And fight back their self-hating program of destabilising Western civilisation.
Like Theoden freed from Saruman’s spell, I have my sword in my hand once more and grip it with renewed strength.