August 15, 2007
By Patrick Grimm
The Anti-Gentilist Beast of Zion is towering, glowering, never cowering and always empowering its Rothschild-padded propaganda and the cavalcade of decadence that always follows in train. This Beast in true Shakespearian description “doth bestride the narrow world like a Colossus, and we petty men walk under his huge legs and peep about to find ourselves dishonourable graves.” The shadow doth fall, and the Gentile like a lemming or a mouse can only look on and gasp, his universe both narrowing and broadening as the information age both gives and takes.
But still the Beast lumbers on, fantastical floods of capital infusing it with a strength, an endurance, a power it would never have without the largesse of the Money Masters who have netted the world and proxyize all existence from London and from the World Bank and from the West Bank and the Potomac. The heavy footfalls of the Beast of Zion as they fall are the crunch and bracket creep and the devaluing ‘heard round the world.’ Let us mince no words as the Beast restrains not its avarice, its counterfeiting and its kingdom. Let us joust no more with the shadow boxers of “liberalism” or even “secularism.” Nay, tarry not. Nay, hurry much. Make haste as the Beast lays to waste.
What is the number of the Beast of Zion? Is it the number of perfection or the number of deception? The Beast sleepeth not, eateth only our young and never its own. It grows strong and taut and tick-full with treasure whose sweat and toil belongs to another. The dissolution of higher life is the Beast’s aim. The defining down of deviancy, of degeneracy, of disease and dismay is the gift to the nations, the multitudes, the non-Mensches, the Goyus Nothingus, the slugs. And why? The Beast is hungry and thirsting after, not righteousness, but lucre, and license and blood.
The Beast is rumbling, never stumbling and forever slanting towards Gomorrah. Sodomy, sickness and cinder are its lofty promise, its malsplendorous malady come to pass. The Leviathan, the Colossus, the “darkness unto the degradations” are its Unholy promises of the Old Age and of the New. The cattle are restless, but only for lack of cutting edge frivolities. The Beast kills us with, not kindness, but distractions. White noise is food for the Goys. Goy toys are broken and discarded, jettisoned and junked.
Yes, the Anti-Gentilist Beast of Zion is towering, glowering and deflowering our once budding world, pretty with the loveliness of our creations, but now uglied beyond recognition by alien life, “leveling” ideals and the “duncing-down” of our children. Dostoevsky said that “Only beauty can save us” and perhaps he was correct. By clinging to the “shafts of divine glory” now welling up within our people, the Beast shall be blinded, then swiftly bloodied, stymied and slain, toppled from its stomping stride athwart the razor thin line that is its home.