Interview With a Wolf, Part One
http://whitenationalist.org/forum/sh...=4971#post4971
.
.
I was out in the deep woods, walking the stress of everyday life out of my mind. I did this now and then when I'd had a particularly bad week, and this one had been a real SOB. I won't go into the gory details except to say that it took every last ounce of self control I had not to go postal on some very deserving people. We can choose our friends, but not our relatives or our co-workers. That's one of the problems with being a social slave to the system. We do what we're told, when we're told to do it if we want to eat and have a roof over our heads. There's no such thing as true freedom anymore. The Jews have seen to that through centuries of careful manipulation. But try to tell that to one of the idiot working class and you'll instantly get branded as a radical white supremist Nazi, etc., etc. They don't want to hear it. The truth
scares the living crap out of them because if they actually faced it, they'd have to acknowledge that they'd spent their entire lives working like a dog for absolutely nothing. And that thought is just too disturbing for most. And although you'll never hear the liberal media say so, most suicides today are caused by some clown accidentally realizing to the truth...
In any event I was out there in the woods, listening to the wind and the occasional wild bird hooting at a mate. The leaves in the trees rustled and the critters skittered between trees. It was a fairybook place of rest for the weary. I had been drinking before I left out, and had polished off a pint of Beam and coke. I was feeling no pain. Perhaps that was why I saw and heard what I did out there, but deep down I know better. Whatever happened to me out there in those woods was as real as getting run over by a truck, though I've never told a soul about it for obvious reasons. Maybe working in an accounting office all those years had something to do with it, I don't know. All I know is that something happened, something damned weird,and the experience changed me forever. For good or ill the dye is cast, and I will set out in the morning to do what must be done. I will walk in, gather my belongings, walk into that fat supervisor's office and punch him squarely in that hooked kike nose of his, then tell him I quit. They can keep my paycheck. I won't be needing it after today anyway. And screw their shitty little retirement pension. It wouldn't be enough to live on anyway, so why even work for it? No, I'm going to get shut of that slave pit and breath the fresh air of freedom for the first time in my life...
Yesterday afternoon was the defining experience of my life. It set me on the path I must now follow, even if it means the death of me. I now understand that living the life of a cowed cur dog is not living at all, but a slow, ignoble death.
The Old Testament says that a live dog is greater than a dead lion. I strongly disagree. You can sure tell a Jew wrote that. It fits the Jew mind-set to an absolute tee. Most of them are quite comfortable cowering and licking the boots of their superiors just to stay alive and get rich from the scraps from their master's table. They have no honor. But a real white man, an Aryan would rather die first. He would much rather die on his feet than live on his knees before an evil tyrant. And our enemy the Jew knows this, and that's exactly why he fears us so much, and has worked so very long and hard to destroy us from within.
So I went into the woods to mend my spirit. I finally got fatigued and found a seat on a large, smooth rock next to a large creek running with crystal clear mountain water. I set up camp and started a fire, then I bent down and cupped my hands and drank from the pure water, and nothing in this world ever tasted so good. I saw my reflection rippling back at me from the brook, and I grinned at the stupid looking joker staring back at me. It was then that I saw the other reflection behind mine and I froze in stark terror. A wolf. A big wolf. A really, really big wolf. They were sparse in this neck of the woods, but as my luck would have it, one of them had found me...
In the seconds that followed, I figured I was dinner for this monster. In the back of my mind I wondered absently how bad it would hurt. I didn't move but continued to stare at his reflection in the water. And for the life of me I could have sworn it grinned at me. Can canines grin? I really never thought about it. Well they must because this fellow sure was grinning, which reminded me of the dark story of Little Red Riding Hood telling the Big Bad Wolf what big teeth he had. Because when this sucker grinned, he displayed an array of very long sharp fangs. "All the better to eat you with, muthafuggah!" But when he didn't instantly jump me, or start in with the expected menacing growl, I became more curious than scared and turned around slowly and faced it. It was a very, very large male, and I had never seen a wolf with such unusual markings. They were different than any sub-species of wolf I'd ever heard of, and I knewa thing or two about wolves. Wildlife was a hobby of mine. I guess it was my personal way of escaping the little paper pushing cubicle I spent my life in every day.
There was an old tree stump in my camp near the water's edge, and I very slowly made my way onto it and slowly sat down, facing this monster. It's feral eyes bored a hole into my soul as it watched my every move. Then my heart almost stopped in my chest from sheer shock when the thing spoke to me. In a voice that sounded very human, it said quite calmly, "You sure are one sorry specimen of a man, aren't you?" I almost fell over backwards off the stump at those words. A wolf talking. I knew I must have lost my mind and started looking around for dancing elephants and clowns...
Then the wolf's words sank in and they pissed me off. I knew I was hallucinating, but that didn't stop my anger one iota. How dare this..this dog say such a thing to me? Just who the hell did he think he was, anyway? I turned and faced my imaginary tormentor and said, "Well if all you can do is insult me, you can just take a freaking hike, you mangy mutt!" I guess I shouldn't have snapped at him like that, but you really don't show a lot of respect to hallucinations. At least I never did. The wolf growled loudly at me and took a step closer, eyeing me menacingly. I was once again wondering what it would feel like having my throat ripped out. What the Sam hell had I eaten anyway, that caused me to have such weird ass illusions? Since I obviously wasn't going to get any better in the next few minutes, I decided I might as well humor the beast and talk to it. I was too far out in the woods to go for help, so either I lived or I didn't. So I decided I might as well occupy myself while the fates decided for me.
My train of thought was broken when the wolf eyed me and said in a low, deep voice, "Shall I tell you why I said that?" I nodded more out of curiosity than a need to hear my faults listed, especially by an hallucination. "Go for it wolf. Let's hear why I'm such a sorry case in your opinion. And by the way, how the hell do you know anything about me, or any man for that matter? You're a wolf for Pete's sake, at least the illusion of one, and you have no way of knowing squat about me." The wolf grinned again. I could again see those rows of long, sharp teeth. "I can talk, therefore you should assume I have other abilities as well." This made a kind of left-handed sense, so I went along. "Ok, go for it." I replied...
The wolf crept nearer and sat down near the fire. "Mmmm. Feels good. But to the subject, eh? You're a sorry excuse for a man because you don't practice your beliefs. You mumble and grumble every single day about the evil overtaking your race and your country, but you continue to sit in your little cubicle day after day, then go home to your beer and your air conditioning and focus on your own personal pleasures. And all the while the world around you gets a little worse with each passing day." This royally pissed me off. "And just what am I supposed to do about any of it Mr. Wolf, eh? Just exactly what can one little man do against the monster that's steam rolling over our rights and freedoms? All I'd end up doing is committing suicide if I tried to make a difference, because I have no army at my back and no group of allies to fight by my side. Every other white I know feels just as helpless as I do!"
The huge wolf nodded his head in agreement. "True, you're just one man. But let me ask you something. Do you read history?" I nodded. I was a history buff. I've read tons of lengthy tomes on the various stages of humanity's struggles through the long ages, and I knew quite a bit about how we got where we are today. "Then you do know that all great revolutions and upheavals started with just one man that was fed up with the way things were." I nodded but said, "Yeah, but more often than not those men were killed before they ever got off the ground." The wolf nodded in agreement but then said,"Yes, but if you read about those men, every one of those that failed, did so because they made a crucial mistake. They attacked before they were ready. In order for any revolt to succeed, the instigator has to have a modicum of good old fashioned common sense. If you let your motions rule you, you'll end up dead every time, and nothing gets done and the evil continues, only with one less fighter that could have made the difference." I hated to admit it, but the wolf was right...
Suddenly the wolf growled and turned on himself and began snapping rapid fire at his pelt. He stitched it repeatedly with his teeth, as if he were trying to catch something. As it turned out that's exactly what he was doing. He finally stopped and looked up at me sheepishly and said, "I apologize for the interruption, but these damned fleas drive me nuts at times. Being a wolf isn't all that it's cracked up to be." I suddenly found myself busting up. I laughed long and hard uncontrollably. For some reason the sight of this dangerous, dignified wolf snapping at fleas like some mangy mutt tickled my funny bone in the extreme. Tears flowed as I rolled on the ground, holding my sides. Suddenly the wolf started laughing too, and soon we were both rolling around on the ground, laughing like a couple of damn fools.
"I'm sorry, " I gasped, "but I couldn't help it. The sight of you snapping like that was just too much!" This set both of us off again, and we laughed until we were all laughed out. Finally the wolf continued. "You know, those fleas are a good comparison to your problem. You and men like you need to become the fleas that torment the enemy of America. If enough of you start to sting the beast, it will have to eventually stop to scratch. That's when you strike. When the enemy's attention is somewhere else. After a time you can slowly whittle it down to size. But that isn't all. With every win you get, more people will join your ranks. There are millions of men out there that feel as you do, but they feel powerless . . . leaderless, directionless.
They don't know where to begin...
To Be Continued.....
JOOM
"Behind every tyrant there is always a Jew."--Karl Marx
http://whitenationalist.org/forum/sh...=4971#post4971
.
.
I was out in the deep woods, walking the stress of everyday life out of my mind. I did this now and then when I'd had a particularly bad week, and this one had been a real SOB. I won't go into the gory details except to say that it took every last ounce of self control I had not to go postal on some very deserving people. We can choose our friends, but not our relatives or our co-workers. That's one of the problems with being a social slave to the system. We do what we're told, when we're told to do it if we want to eat and have a roof over our heads. There's no such thing as true freedom anymore. The Jews have seen to that through centuries of careful manipulation. But try to tell that to one of the idiot working class and you'll instantly get branded as a radical white supremist Nazi, etc., etc. They don't want to hear it. The truth
scares the living crap out of them because if they actually faced it, they'd have to acknowledge that they'd spent their entire lives working like a dog for absolutely nothing. And that thought is just too disturbing for most. And although you'll never hear the liberal media say so, most suicides today are caused by some clown accidentally realizing to the truth...
In any event I was out there in the woods, listening to the wind and the occasional wild bird hooting at a mate. The leaves in the trees rustled and the critters skittered between trees. It was a fairybook place of rest for the weary. I had been drinking before I left out, and had polished off a pint of Beam and coke. I was feeling no pain. Perhaps that was why I saw and heard what I did out there, but deep down I know better. Whatever happened to me out there in those woods was as real as getting run over by a truck, though I've never told a soul about it for obvious reasons. Maybe working in an accounting office all those years had something to do with it, I don't know. All I know is that something happened, something damned weird,and the experience changed me forever. For good or ill the dye is cast, and I will set out in the morning to do what must be done. I will walk in, gather my belongings, walk into that fat supervisor's office and punch him squarely in that hooked kike nose of his, then tell him I quit. They can keep my paycheck. I won't be needing it after today anyway. And screw their shitty little retirement pension. It wouldn't be enough to live on anyway, so why even work for it? No, I'm going to get shut of that slave pit and breath the fresh air of freedom for the first time in my life...
Yesterday afternoon was the defining experience of my life. It set me on the path I must now follow, even if it means the death of me. I now understand that living the life of a cowed cur dog is not living at all, but a slow, ignoble death.
The Old Testament says that a live dog is greater than a dead lion. I strongly disagree. You can sure tell a Jew wrote that. It fits the Jew mind-set to an absolute tee. Most of them are quite comfortable cowering and licking the boots of their superiors just to stay alive and get rich from the scraps from their master's table. They have no honor. But a real white man, an Aryan would rather die first. He would much rather die on his feet than live on his knees before an evil tyrant. And our enemy the Jew knows this, and that's exactly why he fears us so much, and has worked so very long and hard to destroy us from within.
So I went into the woods to mend my spirit. I finally got fatigued and found a seat on a large, smooth rock next to a large creek running with crystal clear mountain water. I set up camp and started a fire, then I bent down and cupped my hands and drank from the pure water, and nothing in this world ever tasted so good. I saw my reflection rippling back at me from the brook, and I grinned at the stupid looking joker staring back at me. It was then that I saw the other reflection behind mine and I froze in stark terror. A wolf. A big wolf. A really, really big wolf. They were sparse in this neck of the woods, but as my luck would have it, one of them had found me...
In the seconds that followed, I figured I was dinner for this monster. In the back of my mind I wondered absently how bad it would hurt. I didn't move but continued to stare at his reflection in the water. And for the life of me I could have sworn it grinned at me. Can canines grin? I really never thought about it. Well they must because this fellow sure was grinning, which reminded me of the dark story of Little Red Riding Hood telling the Big Bad Wolf what big teeth he had. Because when this sucker grinned, he displayed an array of very long sharp fangs. "All the better to eat you with, muthafuggah!" But when he didn't instantly jump me, or start in with the expected menacing growl, I became more curious than scared and turned around slowly and faced it. It was a very, very large male, and I had never seen a wolf with such unusual markings. They were different than any sub-species of wolf I'd ever heard of, and I knewa thing or two about wolves. Wildlife was a hobby of mine. I guess it was my personal way of escaping the little paper pushing cubicle I spent my life in every day.
There was an old tree stump in my camp near the water's edge, and I very slowly made my way onto it and slowly sat down, facing this monster. It's feral eyes bored a hole into my soul as it watched my every move. Then my heart almost stopped in my chest from sheer shock when the thing spoke to me. In a voice that sounded very human, it said quite calmly, "You sure are one sorry specimen of a man, aren't you?" I almost fell over backwards off the stump at those words. A wolf talking. I knew I must have lost my mind and started looking around for dancing elephants and clowns...
Then the wolf's words sank in and they pissed me off. I knew I was hallucinating, but that didn't stop my anger one iota. How dare this..this dog say such a thing to me? Just who the hell did he think he was, anyway? I turned and faced my imaginary tormentor and said, "Well if all you can do is insult me, you can just take a freaking hike, you mangy mutt!" I guess I shouldn't have snapped at him like that, but you really don't show a lot of respect to hallucinations. At least I never did. The wolf growled loudly at me and took a step closer, eyeing me menacingly. I was once again wondering what it would feel like having my throat ripped out. What the Sam hell had I eaten anyway, that caused me to have such weird ass illusions? Since I obviously wasn't going to get any better in the next few minutes, I decided I might as well humor the beast and talk to it. I was too far out in the woods to go for help, so either I lived or I didn't. So I decided I might as well occupy myself while the fates decided for me.
My train of thought was broken when the wolf eyed me and said in a low, deep voice, "Shall I tell you why I said that?" I nodded more out of curiosity than a need to hear my faults listed, especially by an hallucination. "Go for it wolf. Let's hear why I'm such a sorry case in your opinion. And by the way, how the hell do you know anything about me, or any man for that matter? You're a wolf for Pete's sake, at least the illusion of one, and you have no way of knowing squat about me." The wolf grinned again. I could again see those rows of long, sharp teeth. "I can talk, therefore you should assume I have other abilities as well." This made a kind of left-handed sense, so I went along. "Ok, go for it." I replied...
The wolf crept nearer and sat down near the fire. "Mmmm. Feels good. But to the subject, eh? You're a sorry excuse for a man because you don't practice your beliefs. You mumble and grumble every single day about the evil overtaking your race and your country, but you continue to sit in your little cubicle day after day, then go home to your beer and your air conditioning and focus on your own personal pleasures. And all the while the world around you gets a little worse with each passing day." This royally pissed me off. "And just what am I supposed to do about any of it Mr. Wolf, eh? Just exactly what can one little man do against the monster that's steam rolling over our rights and freedoms? All I'd end up doing is committing suicide if I tried to make a difference, because I have no army at my back and no group of allies to fight by my side. Every other white I know feels just as helpless as I do!"
The huge wolf nodded his head in agreement. "True, you're just one man. But let me ask you something. Do you read history?" I nodded. I was a history buff. I've read tons of lengthy tomes on the various stages of humanity's struggles through the long ages, and I knew quite a bit about how we got where we are today. "Then you do know that all great revolutions and upheavals started with just one man that was fed up with the way things were." I nodded but said, "Yeah, but more often than not those men were killed before they ever got off the ground." The wolf nodded in agreement but then said,"Yes, but if you read about those men, every one of those that failed, did so because they made a crucial mistake. They attacked before they were ready. In order for any revolt to succeed, the instigator has to have a modicum of good old fashioned common sense. If you let your motions rule you, you'll end up dead every time, and nothing gets done and the evil continues, only with one less fighter that could have made the difference." I hated to admit it, but the wolf was right...
Suddenly the wolf growled and turned on himself and began snapping rapid fire at his pelt. He stitched it repeatedly with his teeth, as if he were trying to catch something. As it turned out that's exactly what he was doing. He finally stopped and looked up at me sheepishly and said, "I apologize for the interruption, but these damned fleas drive me nuts at times. Being a wolf isn't all that it's cracked up to be." I suddenly found myself busting up. I laughed long and hard uncontrollably. For some reason the sight of this dangerous, dignified wolf snapping at fleas like some mangy mutt tickled my funny bone in the extreme. Tears flowed as I rolled on the ground, holding my sides. Suddenly the wolf started laughing too, and soon we were both rolling around on the ground, laughing like a couple of damn fools.
"I'm sorry, " I gasped, "but I couldn't help it. The sight of you snapping like that was just too much!" This set both of us off again, and we laughed until we were all laughed out. Finally the wolf continued. "You know, those fleas are a good comparison to your problem. You and men like you need to become the fleas that torment the enemy of America. If enough of you start to sting the beast, it will have to eventually stop to scratch. That's when you strike. When the enemy's attention is somewhere else. After a time you can slowly whittle it down to size. But that isn't all. With every win you get, more people will join your ranks. There are millions of men out there that feel as you do, but they feel powerless . . . leaderless, directionless.
They don't know where to begin...
To Be Continued.....
JOOM
"Behind every tyrant there is always a Jew."--Karl Marx
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