We live in confused times, desensitised times. In a state of perpetual disconnect. Unconscious. Gormless, witless, we don’t reckon, we don’t ponder. How often does it come to mind for the bulk of folk to look ahead, or gods above, look behind? Everything is taken for granted. If you want to talk about the eternal now, you need look no further than Clown World, the idyllic and scenic gateway to Piss Earth. It is a magical place where everyone is an autonomous drone, like a postcard, drawn up and penned by an idiot for mass market to drooling imbeciles.
This is an identitarian essay. If that isn’t your cup of tea or your pot of coffee, you’d do well to move on. I have been dancing the Nationalist dance for over a decade now with mixed reviews. For years I have heard the same complaints, the same song and the…
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