Víđar, you say?

Trigger Warning: the big hot button I didn’t smash was the Kungflugnarők, but I think I covered a lot of other bases of things that grind folks’ gears. CoVodicus Maximus Falsus et Homosexualitas has been discussed elsewhere. For those untriggered by the promise of off-the-cuff, probably inadvisable lack of self-censorship, read on under the proviso of your having received my feeble warning thereby exempting yours truly from responsibility over your feelings. Shalom RAUS.

Fuggit. I’ll add some coof to the juice. Now I should be able to offend everyone good and proper. You’re WELCOME.

As of late I have been spending my time digging into Asatru. This is something I should have been doing right out straight, but it’s easy to get lost in the puckerbrush. In so doing I have branched out and sought new voices,  and old voices.

One such voice, who seems to be a clever one, is Christine Marvel. Inasmuch as I know she hasn’t said anything appalling or egregious, stupid or fecklessly polarising. Which is impressive, given how fickle “the scene” can be. Often it seems like you are either an edgelord, or a spleenless weenie kowtowing the endless agenda and forever retconning yourself from three weeks ago to account for the latest glacial pronoun shift.

At any rate, she has a small series of videos about Vithar and Vali. These are among Odhinn’s sons. Now, her premise I feel is a highly personal one. As all our premises are. She believes those born from vengeance become certain types. She infers that Vali is so seldom discussed because he is one dimensional, born of Rind by Othinn for the singular purpose of avenging Balthur. I am not certain I agree in full with the assertion, despite what I feel is her thoughtfulness in depicting the character of trauma and abuse victims, or ‘those borne of vengeance.’ 

Vengeance. It is a topic I do not normally entertain, as it is hardly a pragmatic virtue, yes, virtue, to consider in the cultural context in which I live. If I did, I would be in jail. And so would you. So would everyone with a lick of honour. It is that simple. I could wax italic and discuss the differences between righteous and ignoble anger as defined by the papists. And then no doubt I could waste both our time creating false dichotomies between mortal, spiritual and physical evil. But I won’t. Vengeance was a virtue. If you have read my reviews on Grønbech, you know it is a fatal virtue, but one demanded by honour. Lack of this means we have no social honour. Or, rather, we do not have access to the full spectrum of honour. This does not mean we can carry on without acting honourably. Indeed, it becomes all the more imperative we strive our utmost.

In plain, our world cries out for vengeance, and Vali, or Vithar is a neglected God. We can speak of Forseti, the God of Litigation, of whom little is said. But therein lies the problem. We see through Forseti’s mirror, darkly. It is said none left his hall untended. True. But in this perverse world run by solemn inverts of our dearest archetypes, all are called to court, none are served, and none are left tended. When litigation fails, the next logical step is vengeance, and vigilantism. That mere assertion is now dangerous talk. And, no, I’m not prescribing any particular course of action. That would be silly, wouldn’t it? Prescribing action?

I certainly wouldn’t be recommending cellular, tribalistic networks of families, clans, neighbours and other seeming impossibilities which would have been utterly commonsensical a hundred years ago. Yes. Vengeance is important. It is a virtue. And it isn’t simply about emotional masturbation, either. It is sad that our watered down and mutilated, dickless society feels it should be. Consider again, Vali. His purpose, his conception was to avenge Balthur. Now in the late stages of Norse faith, Balthur has become a semi-messianic figure. This is no doubt due to some intermixture betwixt Christian and Pagan. We don’t know full well what Balthur looked like before, but we can infer. From Balthur comes joy, mirth and light. None of these are Christian inventions. There is a Balthur in every pantheon. The vowel-less Welshmen had Mabon, the boy king of sunlight whom Arthur rescues from Welsh Hell every winter. The Greek homos do a little gender bending, their Balthur is named Persephone, sometimes, I think, called Kore. I forget what the Finns had, but I’m sure something.

I digress. Point is. Balthur is a wellspring of light, innocence and mirth. Laughter dies with him, in many ways, and Asgard loses a great deal of light with his death. The value of this is inestimable. Thus, the wergild is the penance of tears – all must shed for him. We know the tale, yes? That is a high price. When is the last time you cried for a stranger? When is the last time you have cried? Think about that. Imagine for a moment living in an integral world, in which lives were interconnected and you could legitimately mourn the dead of strangers as your own. Because in an insular world, there weren’t really strangers. We might call that a “closed society,” now. And we don’t have one. A comitatus or männerbund comes close. But this concept is a martial one, and refers to a unit of culture and building block of society, and thus is technically exclusive. A society can house a comitatus, but a comitatus cannot be  society lest its intrinsic quality be lost and by necessity mutate into something else. Which may well be a grand thing, depending on the circumstances. To contrast: Saul Alinsky fought for an open society, meaning life without qualifiers or exclusionary measures. A closed society is defined by parameters. I digress.

Vengeance here isn’t merely about hurting who hurt you. Believe me, if it were that simple I would have a long list and not many friends. Same as you. We’d all be revealed the jackasses we really are. One function of vengeance is to show that “this will not stand.” The unfathomable levels of degeneracy we are suffering, we suffer because we don’t do math the good old English way and divide our sex-offenders by four and carry the remainders. There was a time I didn’t have to be afraid of suggesting pädophiles be lynched to death, or rapists castrated and used to test experimental products in lieu of the more useful ratand chimp. Now? In the wrong company that sage wisdom invokes ire. Suggesting that treason, a capital offence, can be defined, is now itself… ironically… treason. We as citizens can do nothing, except seeth. Without an outlet, what seethes, boils. What boils, runneth over. What a shock, this is.

Mass shootings are becoming frequent. I read somewhere that you stand a 1/175 chance of being murdered. Period. Where I live, New England, once had the country’s lowest crime rate. Lower than Canada. Especially Quebec. Goddamn Queebs. Anyway. Freak crime is on the rise. Serial killers don’t shock people anymore. Nobody I know is stunned when there’s a school shooting. And it’s not because they called the Paranormies and found out about the goddamn holograms. It’s because they’re so numb and broken that they’re forgetting how to feel.

If Balthur died tomorrow, who would shed a tear, in this sea of numbskulls?

We live in a conditionally unfeeling society. We think. But clearly there are volcanoes of sentiment erupting with every rando concert that a bunch of people get snuffed at. But that isn’t vengeance. That’s just violence. Violence isn’t a virtue. Vengeance was a calculated thing which came with specific rules. It was akin to surgery, the removal of an infected element. The infectious elements were anathema to society. Given our ancestors’ belief in reincarnation, the importance of vengeance becomes more understandable. Not only was vengeance a surgery which made temporal life bearable, when it worked, it also aimed to act as a spiritual eugenic to purify the future.

If your family is wronged, action must be taken to stop it. Action is met with reaction, all natural society is a question of immovable objects and unstoppable forces. Equal opposites. Someday, one way or another, there is going to have to be a reckoning. Realistically, the reckoning should have been many, many years ago. A frightful truth, a quiet part not often said out loud, is that the more time passes the bigger the bill is that remains to be paid. None living can pay it. The best we can hope for is a societal breakdown so utterly massive that the ensuing balkanisation does a great reset we can live with. Otherwise the account is too insane to ponder. Too awful to meander.

I can list the things I would extract vengeance for. And these are miniscule to the sufferings of others. I can site my wife’s countless miscarriages, and the profound difficulty of primary and secondary infertility. These are things which have filled me with considerable loathing. Others, like my sister, have carried children to within days of term, only to lose them. I think of Othinn by the pyre, whispering the ineffable to Balthur. The sick animal in me thinks of Narvi, Loki’s son, whose guts were ripped out of his cavities and woven into the very rope used to bind the trickster to his promethean rock beneath the Serpent of Everlasting Justice which blinds him eternally with venom. Oh yes, I am no stranger to the orgiastic fantasy of revenge. But like with most fantasies, one has to put it away and move on.

So that isn’t real vengeance. And thus when they who fancy such pry me, I give them nothing. It’s hardly worth planning for something that won’t happen like it does in the Body Lore. Besides, I find it distracting. That kind of anticipation breeds unrealistic expectation, which in turn makes you worthless for actual progress. Many promises of victory, vengeance and the like have I heard, from many types of men from many stations, near to me, far from me. All these promises are rooted not so much in reptilian logic, cold and calculating, but hot, intemperate primate ego.

Vengeance, as I suggested, is surgical. It treats social disease. It is business. Might it be cathartic for the executor of the will of the people? Maybe. I certainly wouldn’t know. I think of the words of the old English lawyers who would say, in effect, “thus it falls to me to carry out the dreadful will of The Law.” These were men conditioned to wait until the heat of passion had passed them by before rendering unto Cæsar what is Rome’s. Loki’s punishment. Had passion seized the Gods and they murder him on holy ground, their honour would have been lost. And their dignity. Rather they waited. And when Loki’s punishment was carried out, it was with cold, brutal indifference. A kind of punishment which was cruel and evocative. A message not only to the criminal, but potential accomplices.

What messages do our present justice system send? Money buys justice. Justice favours special groups of people. There is, in fact, no justice. This truth remains self-evident to everyone but genetically viable White Folk. Every tribe has different standards of justice. Universal inequality. Only White Idiots think all things are equal. The darkies have their own brands of justice, or muhdikkin. The faggots have their ideas. Jews have 614 kommandmentz. Christians have ten. Heathens have 9 Noble Virtues. And so on. Today justice is not meted out in equal measure. White Idiots begin to see, but will not believe.

Because it leaves them with a singular conclusion. That nothing is equal. Not even Whites. An Irish justice system is different than an English one. And the English court is based on, but not the same as Anglo-Saxon common law. American justice is a combinative of English and Roman judiciary practise, and not Hebrew, as conservative clowns often opine. Most Founding Fathers tended towards Saxonism, and paid lip service to the yids out of cultural deference and not blazing conviction.

That’s right. We live in a powderkeg. Anything could set the whole thing off. But for the very same reason that nobody would cry for Balthur tomorrow, nothing is going to give us that cathartic boom we all know we dream about. The system will collapse in chunks. Regions will deteriorate and crumble while the rest of the system plods on. Remember, the unstoppable object? It will go, and go, and go until it either runs out of momentum or is stopped. The Roman Empire degenerated into an army of brainlet niggers and degenerate albino apes before it was gradually absorbed by more virile Germanic stock and steadily transformed into Europe. America will slowly balkanise into a sea of shit-skins and gay retards, science-cunts spewing puss, and any other number of abominations that unironically give me Freudian nightmares of stepping in shit. As little as twenty years ago the daily news of today was the stuff of absurdist humour, funny for the impossibility of realising its spread. And yet here we are. With trannies and mutants oozing out of every sewer cap, like senile whores, demanding love and affection where none is deserved. Oh! And corollary to this is the disease of depression and the many side-effects. And not a natural depression, like what Egil Skallagrimsson might face – depression of love lost. But a kind of depression resulting from being ground down by unquantifiable horrors. And drug addicts. Drunks. Career criminals. Nihilists with no loyalty. Loyalty to what? All manner of crushed, broken and pathetic individual.

All this deserves reckoning. Because all this is engineered. And in the monstrously unlikely event all this sin and villainy is an accidental byproduct of what is hideously doubtfully a well-meaning front, then one can nevertheless not overlook the incalculable damage done. Whose cascade effects will display themselves for generations to come, as no doubt, the genome rewrites itself under massive pressure and a clearly dysgenic process unfolds before our eyes. The weakening, devaluing of our very offspring from environmental proximity to the shambling behemoth of a society we pay fetid lip-service to.

And there is so much reckoning to be done. So much more. Potentially endless. So, no. I don’t think Vithar is a waste of a God, nor one dimensional nor unimportant. When Vali did away with Hothur, and any other things, he had to think it through. He had to know the weight of guilt, understand the sentence. That’s a big burden. A one dimensional character would be incapable of carrying that out. A character so burdened would require immensely respectable intellect and faculties, as well as the courage and fortitude to do the needful. Othinn knew the way the winds could blow, and moved the chess-pieces to ensure justice could be done. He knew the world could become unsustainable. The cost of living was dieing, but I doubt anyone believes we were meant a daily death like the one dumped on our plate like jailhouse slop.

Because, in reality, the consequence of such a huge vengeance is inevitable.

It is Ragnarok.

We can have vengeance, or we can have society. We cannot have both. The wergild imposed by the crimes of ZOG, leave no other option. It is entirely possible that this Great Reset everyone is getting bent out of shape over, is part of that natural consequence. There is no sector of what we know as society left untouched by the current regimes and their handlers. If justice were done, the interlaced tendrils of decay are so thoroughbred that the entire machine would require dismantling and rebuilding. The surgery would replace the corpse of the old regime with a new paschal lamb – just like the death of Ymir-Aurgelmir was called for in order for the Gods to establish our 9 Worlds. With the grotesque “elites” mangling children, confusing adults, encouraging neglect of families from the most sensitive glands of human culture – to the orchestration of perversion on every level of intimacy – to the purposeful amelioration of economic straits with artificial scarcity, unsustainable migrant economies, unassimilable immigrant hordes used as ladles to stir the unrecognisable spew in the melting pot… and the tendency to decry those who notice as nuts. Name me an institution which hasn’t been impacted or somehow commodified by our thoroughly subverted existence. Go ahead. Try. We apparently have all the time in the world. You won’t see the second coming of the Prince of Peaceful Protest and I’m not going to live long enough to see fire and flood end this stain. It’s a cope. The reality is, the point of all this was that putting off what needs to be done leads to this.

The Gods could have killed Fenrir and put Vidar out of a job and saved Ođin on life insurance. They could have strangled Loki at the first. Yes, all these polarities serve vital cosmological functions – true. But all stories have dual meanings. Don’t put off today what you might think to do tomorrow. The dual meaning is really multivariate. Inaction breeds consequence. The Gods played high and loose with certain things, even though nothing they did betrayed the Havamal which reminds us that Utangard is owed no honour. Be truthful to friend and family, but to enemies repay deceit with deceit. Anyway. Point is: inaction is still action, and all action demands consequence. It also shows the sheer inevitability of natural process, a part of which is the eventual decay and decimation of social order. All things ebb and flow. Note: hallmarks of the coming Ragnarok were social degeneracies, they should sound familiar. Homosexuality, kin-slaughter, theft, oath-breaking, incest and other immoralities are named by point. These are all hobbies for massive contingencies of “society.”

When faggot marriage was institutionalised, cowards bought the lie. To this day I fight with some about the painfully predictable thread of logical consequence that led from that to the precipice of legalising paedophilia. Or bestiality. Or whatever other gross violation of somebody’s natural law. Slippery Slopes don’t lie. People convinced themselves that the one good queer that dindu nuffins must represent all of the Kingdom of GRIDS. Queendom? Queerdomme? There we go. LTBBQ loves tasteless puns. Just look at the names of the snivelling eunuchs they trot out to read to your kids – if you’re a spleenless cuck. They do the same thing with infinity niggers. NAXALT. Not All X Are Like That. Every White moron with his liberal panties will say; “MLK or bust.” MLK was scum. He didn’t write those speeches and he pointedly abused White hookers as a power fantasy. Hell, I’m pretty sure everybody else’s favourite token nog Darcurious Huckstable meant something else by putting the pudding in the pudding pop. By which I mean daterape drugs.

Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit. Mugfugga bixnood ba boop mu dik nau gun gibz me summa dat poon tang.

And so we barter away the future making concessions. I have a black friend. This is my gay friend. I have convoked the best imaginable traits and implied them onto this otherwise irreconcilable host. If you convince yourself something is true, that doesn’t make it so. Detroit is still on fire, and there’s a paedophile who was once groomed by a larger, stronger faggot that is licking his lips looking at your son’s rectum. Hell, he could be in your school, right now, licking those lips. Licking. Teaching your children. A monster at a buffet. BECAUSE IT’S MORE IMPORTANT WE DON’T DISCRIMINATE. No, we wouldn’t want to throw that baby out with the bathwater.

But killing the baby with a clotheshanger because #believeallwomen is fine.

Babies aren’t even people yet, Goyim. They have to be viable. Did you know there was some subhuman scum suggesting that mothers should have the right to have her baby blenderised up to a few weeks after birth. Defence? You’ve got to get to know the baby and make sure it’s a right fit. Source? Go fuck yourself. At this point there’s no room for the pretend dubious crowd. This whole defence of ‘why do you even know that,’ doesn’t fly. Neither does demanding peer reviews. Because the truth tends to come out eventually. And there will be an army of idiots twisting themselves in a stunning array of yogic contortions for mental gymnastics, the kind of flexibility that would make a skinny porn star blush. With envy. These idiots will seek to diffuse and distract. They will set gullible boobs off the scent by throwing delicious Scooby Snaxxx in the day. A little Q here (plz gibz baste John DeLancie meme,) a slice of ‘Za there. Ooh my. How about an asshole with shitty, unfinished Rune tattoo sleeves and a buffalo hat. Sure. Checks out.

You know, I don’t know what’s worse; the evil of it all, or the now painful lack of imagination. When I was a kid, being traumatised by the Kikes was different somehow. Shut up, Pablo, you’re being a spirit boomer. I know, kid, I know. But seriously. In my day, they shut down my rational faculties with rape fantasies. They made me read graphic fan fiction about Jewesses getting ploughed in the asshole by SS Officers until all I could think of when questioning the Hollowcost was some Jewlett’s leaking colon, the visceral descriptions (unnecessary) of odour and viscosity of said leakage.. all of which had evidently been very important to me in my fifth grade reading class, and circuitously relevant to my ability to manipulate diction. Now? Now twitter users have their days ruined by seeing #orangutangbad on twitter. Some nigger notices things and Shitlibs equivocate Kanye tweets to battle trauma. Really? Very good. My work here is done. I’ll be in the batchroom if you need me. Hell. Maybe this is why so many people my age don’t bathe, they had to read the one about the jew butt sex in the bathtub to remind them that everything the authorities don’t like leads to the Hollowcost. Now every time they see soap they have inherited fourth generational war trauma. I await my patent, Shlomo.


To quote Abraham Fitzcatholic Washington who is slowly dieing of being hammered Pelosi’d in the ass:

“Come on, man.”

It remains. The price of Balthur’s wergild eventually required the world to begin again in a world that hinted at the possibility of a fraction of the horrors we face. In this, our ancestors knew nothing to match what we have seen, it is unlikely that what we deal with would have had a word. If in the ancient world, where the seed of degeneracy was and the spirit of malformed corruption lurked, had to be destroyed and rebuilt… where does that leave us? We have at our disposal the power to make every malfeasant dream a turgid, gnawing, sickening reality. Penis golems and vagina monsters are being churned up in labs, and they want access to your children without your consent. Unsupervised consent. Marching rows of faggots in bondage gear with unpleasant floats will be grafted into your formerly wholesome parades. And what is worse, there is no escape. The Media-Industrial Complex sees to this. It is not enough that the evils which are paraded before us all exist, but YOU must see them. YOU MUST accept them. You SHALL embrace them. They rub it in your eye, that they have won, and think they hold all the cards.

And they do, for now.

They who disengage, refuse or unplug are labelled. They become miscreants, the mentally unwell. I spent my entire childhood as a lab-rat to meddling kikes and their infinite pills. Why? At risk population. Children who ask questions get the dope. The rope comes later. I’m sad to see, at least as of 2016 when I quit my job at public school, this had not changed. If nothing else, I entertained myself conditioning my students to ask painful questions of the established structure. It was the least I could do. I doubt any of the lessons stuck, but you never know.

But they’re not omnipotent, it smells like the grip is lessening. Does that mean resistance is quickening? Maybe. One can hope. A better word may be resistances. If we’re lucky, enough splintering, subdividing, sperging little entourages will emerge from the growing sense of wreckage and cause a zero sum. I don’t think we’ll be that lucky.

Still. Vithar and Vali, mind you, return after Ragnarok. A world that is utterly changed, paired down. Gods and men are left with the golden tablets, a natural law, and stories of the old world. In order for there to be justice, ZOG has to become a story told to scare children.

But that truly is a story for another age. None of us are there yet. There’s no shame in that. The Norns pull the strings, not us. There will come a time when the reckoning becomes tenable. But this will be when the resources of the ILLUSION of our present matrix is exhausted, not before. What defeated Soviet Communism? Catholicism? Spare me. Reagan? I fear not. Resource mismanagement and internal dissonance. No empire was ever truly conquered from without. An empire can either be genocided or run out of energy. By the time the Polish Pope and Ronald Ray Gun gave their speeches, “communism” (ZOG) had already infested both popery and Americanism. The world stage was that, a stage. So. Then. Did Communism fall? No. It ran out of the requisite energy to maintain the illusion of hegemony. That’s what we can hope for. Because nobody’s coming to save us. Not even us. “We” would have to be capable of a unified front. And we aren’t. Not yet. Certainly not when there is no “we.”

Would you like to know an ugly truth about America? It was never real. The Thirteen Colonies were not unified in their dissent against Great Britain. They were not unified in their congress after the expulsion of the British Empire from American soil northwards into Canada. Rhode Island did not accept the Constitution until late, and Vermont was her own republic for some time too, and would have re-joined Britain or defaulted to Canada had they offered better prospects. The Whiskey Rebellion, if I recall it right, happened in Washington’s life and that fragile union was revealed to be the Empire it was destined to be. It was only by the overwhelming might of the Federal Government that our perennially fractious union was concocted. Another reality is many Colonists simply wanted a revised British justice, not actual independence.

And that echoes now. Early America would have pulled itself apart very quickly with fratricidal conflict had not the Federal Government beaten down the fiercely independent burgeoning American English ethnicities and crushed them into a mould. Today, the States have been mongrelised with throwback ethnicities so depressed they disappear into the landscape. Dissent groups rise, but are more interested in sniping and drama, or else blinded by grandeur and pomp and unable to see forests for trees. The trees being part of a forest of resistance.

Now. Now a great possibility is the concentralism I wrote about some time ago. Which is not my idea, and there’s certainly a better word for it. By not putting all our eggs into one basket for somebody else to drop, we instead mutually encourage the fractional dissent to magnify. The more thorn’s in ZOG’s side, the more schizophrenic the hydra becomes. Watch how they twist in the wind defining the latest threat. With everybody now being a potential domestic terrorist, you have to imagine that’s taxing Agent Rick’s diminishing return intelligence. When the truth comes out and it is revealed that the MAGAtards are actually a greater threat than real dissidents, and they are, you know things are some desperate. For them. I used to be offended that we were kicked down the ladder by Joe ‘Merica, but now I think this is a good thing. It was inevitable that everybody else was transformed into Nazis by ZOG. It’s only a matter of time before more, and more, and more people begin to realise they can never satisfy their overlords. Their overlords having the emotional consistency of spoiled housewives, dutch uncles and autistic father figures – always telling you what you could have done different.

There is the MAGA crowd run amuck like a rooster’s comb, deflecting blows as the rest of who’s going to wake up, does. There is this Q business. There is, I don’t know, the Pastafarians. There’s a lot going on. Now, how many of these are honeypots? How would I know. But I’m guessing not as many as we think. Because we think all of them. In addition to what passes for the American Right Wing, there is within that womb a growing seed. You have your black flag types, the irreconcilably angry – that’s what is really meant by the MAGA threat. Wild cards who aren’t quite buying the propaganda, but don’t know why. These ZOG sends out feelers. But really, we’ve reached a point where the feelers feeling you up still smell like matzoh balls. They still reek of points of origin. People calling for “the Globalists” to come to court are still saying the same sorts of things Hitler did, without knowing it. Their ignorance isn’t bliss, it’s consequentialism. All these “Nazis” and “Fascistas” the coopted conservitards think they’re hunting still won’t eat feta on their lamb, unlike Goering who would have eaten ALL the goat and ALL the cheese with ALL the kid and ALL his mother’s milk. ALL THE ANIMAL. God dammit.

Optimally, what would end would be the sniping. What would be ideal is that what’s left of the Alternative Right learned a very valuable lesson of ignoring what it doesn’t like about its mirror reflections. Hard Right will have to learn to overlook condescension against Middle Right. They can all move in their ways, do what they’ll do. But if their energy is devoted to solving the problems at hand, we all win. But if every dissenting opinion mill turns against the next, what watcher is watching ZOG? Peradventure that Hitler was right, and the Trumpists are allowed to spout off about Nazis and how much they love Israel… well, their Nazis and Fascists will inevitably still by way of logical consequence someday be deported to said Israel. Trump surrounded himself with what he did, and what they did, they always do. Hands were overplayed. So you can convince yourself that Soros is a Nazi, or a space lizard, but at the end of the day, if you solve the right problem for a good reason with the wrong equation, and the desired outcome is still the same, then what’s the issue?

Other than the problem of Nietzsche’s Eternal Return.

But that isn’t new. It’s


Point is, the masses will always be manipulated. What remains is how much and by whom. The masses are like Ask and Embla. Unhewn and unfated, colourless and without wyrd. They exist to be breathed into by something greater. Next to the mass is the fringe, but the fringe is reactionary and gains ideas from the extreme, typically watering those ideas down for their comfort. Left, Right or Centre, the metaphor holds. The fringe is being pushed further to the Right by a combination of the unhinged stupidity of “The Left,” and the otherwise moral cowardice of the Centre. The ideas of the Extreme Right are slowly being trickled down into the homunculi that are the Popular Right. The extremity of the overplayed hand is so obvious that things like Kanye need to be wheeled out in a desperate bid to keep Goys in the plantation. How this plays out remains to be seen, but whatever the effect there will be damage control. And that takes energy. And resources. Brain space. As our enemies whittle themselves down and replace their parts with coloureds, women and robots, we’re going to see increasing performance gaps. As the frankenstein’s monster that ZOG now is continues to deteriorate, the brilliance of their schemata will also. We can see it now. If you look.

Once more I adjure you to consider the weakness of the recent scripts. Nothing I have lived through in the last decade has impressed me. The Moo Goo Woo Froo smelt to me like the old H1N1. But no, bud, it’s totally different. Not one person could tell me how, they all cited their gay little statistics and pie charts given them by the government they had no problem was trying to kill them the week before. Flimflam. Weak. 1/10, lazy writing, ZOG. The masking? Come on. All the “””””””””” Pandemic”””””””””” proved was how gawmy gullible people can be, made to believe the most ludicrous things. Again, and again, and again. Over and over. Now we have the War Dance of the Mighty Slavs. Wonderful. This has become surrogate reality to a bunch of lemmings, too – as if it matters.

I may not have the IQ to illustrate exactly why none of this matters, but when I tell you the economy is arbitrary and is governed by equally arbitrary rules designed to benefit only the elite – you will know I am right, or you will use your, surely, superior IQ to justify what you were going to believe anyway. All this is, is a battle of will, that’s all this has ever been. Will you, the person, exercise your sovereignty? Or will you the person be lost to we the people? More people are shaking the script every day. While they might not come to the conclusions we had planned for in our manoeuvring, they will disentangle in their own way, slowly and uncertainly.


So. Since I know by now Agent Rick has his dick in his hands, I want to leave my guardian agent with a very special message. Show me how much you care:

Cheese Tits.

This will embarrass you more than me when the Baader-Meinhof hits and I see distorted echoes of this vain exchange IRL, somewhere in the thread of recognisable patterns. Also, the safety word is Boondoggle. Now, we wait.

So, I’ll leave this here for the uninitiated. Vidar and Vali are half-brothers and sons of Odin. Both are avenging Gods. Vali was got by Rind, for the purpose of killing Hoth, which he did a year to the day of his birth – having reached maturity. Little else is said of Vali thereafter, but he alongside Vidar return as Odin’s vicars after Ragnarok. Balthur and Hothur come also. As to Thor’s sons, Magni and Modi, all of whom sans Balthur and Hothur, have clear avenging aspects. Vithar, we know, was gotten to avenge Othinn after his inevitable death at the maw of Fenris who is his opposite at Ragnarok. Worship of Vithar seems to have come about through the saving of leather scraps for offering, as it is said that with a great boot made from all these, Vithar would stamp upon the wolf’s jaw and with his hands rip the wolf apart, spill his guts and presumably drown Jotunn-kin as had been done with Ymir’s blood after his disembowelment. It is not mentioned what Magni and Modi do following their father’s death after killing the Midgard serpent. However in lore, a young Magni once rescues Thor from great odds and shows his strength potential is even greater than his proud father’s.

In a sense, a component of vengeance is an assurety of legacy and continuity. Without honour, which cannot exist undefended, there can be no promulgation of values so much as a continual debasement, a gradual decline of exponential compromise. Point in case, the devolution of the major political party infrastructures – especially those claiming “conservative” leanings who conserve nothing, and have through incessant compromise to “expand their base” gambled and lost their founding principles. Thus, they have forfeited their ourpose, and serving none, they exist only to perpetuate the party, and not the people. Their existence is an insult, a glib depredation of honour. But the people draggle on. Their leadership by default puts their constituency at a moral deficit, for the basic driving component of the system was faith, if not trust. But now is habit, by way of gradual betrayal. Continued unabated, there will be little left to conserve that in any way resembles the founding stocks such arguably obsolete parties were convoked to defend. Continued, the conservatives will in 20 years’ time ask for the invitation of trans into your homs to babysit your children, all because the groundwork has been set with Lady Maga who upon qualifying for classic car status, shall too be “conserved.” Mark my words. The cycle is unbroken, conservatives eat the garbage of yesterday’s progressives and their liberal cronies. Both liberal and conservative act as proxies for the progressive, in the same way the rabble are moved by the vanguard I hinted at earlier. The principle is iron clad, perceptible only from the vantage of its outliers, those within the system are either hopelessly blind or fecklessly gutless. Take your pick, but don’t pick your nose.

So again, I say, it may well pay to meditate upon Vithar and Vali whose ordinances come from the High Father whose foresight allows absolute extinction to be sidestepped by the chosen, Lif and Lifthrasir, who may as well be metaphors for the thinking men who clamour into their cells, attempt to reclaim the ways of the fathers, and reject the poisonous influences of the Nithings who have ejaculated their leaking venom into every institution you can name, sparing nothing, neither God less god nor man, woman or child – whose play is now impossible to ignore. It leaves little wonder then, in light of the perceived conditions surrounding Midgaard prior to Ragnarok – enforced degeneracy, immorality, licentiousness, dishonesty, covetousness – the vilest of traits became virtues. And here we are, in the eternal current year. Deny these new virtues, and tell me what happens. If there’s a dram of honesty in you, well you know what happens. You might be a despicable mutant and claim the punishment of the dissenters is just, but this admission proves the pudding. The defenders of the system are all scum, putrid, rancid, reeking scum whose stench corrupts the land and whose mere breath is airborne venom in Our Mother Earth’s eye.

 What Gods could the wise have but Vithar and Vali, at the end of the long day, who but they should be chosen to lead Life and the Servant of Life in the True New World that must, by needs be, await us who reject the ways of the Nithing, Thrall, Skraeling, the enemies of man whom it was recognised always came from the East and the South to infect the North and West.

So, anyway. This has not been a fun blogpost. I try to keep things cheeky. So all that’s left for me to do is turn the cheek on my fat lady singing trope.


Whatever. It’s important to end on a light note. So, my open invitation for the Fat Lady to come sing for me remains open. Give yourself to me, Brawn Hilda, we can blow the Gjallarhorn together! I want to see your pipes, Dear. Bathe me in your sweet swansong of fire and death! Be thou like my Whore of Babylon, riding to work on a cool dragon and drinking the blood of Catholic Charities. Very song, much fat. Do what needs to be done.

Whatever. My barbell is calling me, and who am I to deny the call?


I was going to use Adele’s “Set Fire to the Rain,” as it has themes of fire and water which were integral to Ragnarök. Besides, I do like a few of her songs. Except she lost the power to end the world with a song a few simmonses ago. So, I’ll take the easy way out and Wagner der hund. But if you can do better, poast synger fyzeek. Or not. Whatever floats your boat or sinks your dinghy.

Not fat, isn’t over. Good song tho.
We’re getting somewhere, don’t know where.

I don’t imagine anyone reading this is so autistic as to fail to grasp the world ending cultural significance of The Fat Lady, but here’s this video that I haven’t watched.

Thank you unthreateningly safe British man!
She looks like she has a good metal growl.

… …

…… ……


Follows are the videos which stuck in my craw and slowly mutated into the thoughts that become this post. Again: until otherwise noted, I respect the authoress of the videos. However, as above, hers is a feminine interpretation. I don’t think Víđar as an archetype is a feminine one. Hence, my gamboling rants. I would suggest that for Viđar and Vali, as Magni and Modi, to retvrn intimates they have much higher significance than our modern gauge allows. I would further bet that Viđar gained tutelage from Forseti. I maintain she has interesting insights, despite any divergence of opinion I might have from hers. At any rate , there are a lot of voices coming out in the Asatru scene. This too, given time, can further disrupt the machinery.

Ah yes, there we are.

5 thoughts on “Víđar, you say?

    1. If you think the degeneracy claims are a ruse, that “Conservatives” “over”-“react” & you also have the guts to make it past Boy One from “baste, tradpilled” mother fucking Russkieland – tell me that you don’t think drawing and quartering is a perfectly viable form of purely platonic æsthetic expression.

      Go on then.

      I’ll be dreaming dreams of B O G S.


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