Myth and Culture

To quote what’s left of Arnold: “Old but not obsolete. ” My views on ethnonationalism have gained nuance with regards to the question of pan, but I stand by my confession otherwise. We cannot understand Folksoul without treating ourselves as timeless organisms. There is no one hand point of evolution. The Anglo was the Englishman who was the Germanic Tribe which was the inheritor of Palæolithic Europe, that was something older than even this. The same root applies to all current European rootstocks who at some point converge on Yggdrasil, despite the unignorable differences of today. Anyways. Happy Sunday.

The Serpent's Loft

Much ado is made of the Ancestors, and with due course, of course. We are here because they were there. A common quandary among Nationalists is the case of where we lie in their wake. It is commonly regarded that we are a shadow of our Ancestral glory. It is said the Ancestors are laughing at us from their graves, et cetera, und so weiter. I have found myself pushing back against this logic with my compatriots, for the utility of the claim is lacking. Even if, in what I perceive to be the two most fundamental ways it may be true. So I shall betray myself and outline the ways in which I find the claim agreeable, and further extrapolate what I perceive needs be the solution.

First of all things, there is one way in which we remain the same that causes us to stand in their shadow…

View original post 3,728 more words


An oldie but a goodie.

The Serpent's Loft

Let me tell you something. Man was meant to dream. There is something sinister about the cultural cynicism and scepticism which has been sublimated and absorbed by the peoples of the world, pointedly, by the People of the West.

More than that, there is something dreadfully wrong with the calm acceptance with which cynicism, being the death of innocence, is endured. There is the idea that dreams are the purview of children. They are, and as surely as Baldur brought joy to the Elder Gods, so too does every man contain the memories of youth. What, pray tell, is wrong with this?

A marked difference between the men of yesteryear who men in my camp admire and those less than sterling role models is that our ancient men were sustained ideologically by the dreams they had. For a long time there was no vast system which robbed them of dreams…

View original post 2,921 more words

Agent Rick’s Sooper Seekrit Hate Crime Directory

I’m taking a break from my pseudo-scientific Speculative Spiritualism to do cathartic fiction. Which means I’ll be doing some Agent Rick parodies. On the docket are Agent Rick does Vaxxx Nanites and Agent Rick does Wesather Control.

Why Agent Rick? Asked no one ever. Because I’m a thought-dissident, and in future if I ever have to answer for my thoughtcrimes I want my case to be as unabsolvably ridiculous as possible. Imagine Agent Rick being read as evidence. Give me all ur lolz n roflmao’s n sheeeit.

Anyway. Also asked nobody ever: where can I find more Agent Rick? Right here baby, I got your back, cuz baby got back to got. In a land that time forgot.

Screw you, Monday. Right in the leaky eyesores.

The Serpent's Loft

Agent Rick began as a culmination of inside jokes with friends and eventually became a concept character I found cathartic to write. Basically a low level Federal Agent who has developed pre-schizo tendencies from being assigned to do deep cover and infiltrate the highly online Alt-Right and has been driven insane by a combination of information transvaluation overload and horrendous drug abuse. His worst vices are fuelled by the government and his crimes ignored, he represents the worst possible stereotypes of the most corrupt agents. Played out in slapstick comedic fashion. He eventually begins hallucinating, and it is revealed that his ‘conscience’ is the manifestation of his subconscious wrestling with the paradigm shifting information he has absorbed. Eventually he is traumatized by his only friend, Agent Hank, which results in the development of split personality disorder in which his “conscience” solidifies into a second persona, being Richard Hicksworth, representing what…

View original post 101 more words

Folk Soul

Ties in with this coming week’s entry, see also: “Amerimutt.”

The Serpent's Loft

Folk Soul= Phenotype + Isolation x Generation

It has been brought to my attention that I frequently use words and terms, assuming the familiarity of the one with whom I speak to them. In this instance I should like to discuss the term “Folk Soul.” As a means of prefacing what follows with honesty, I should like to note that (to my knowledge) there is no strict consensus regarding the term. Which, I suppose, puts us on an equal plinth with any other word demystified into oblivion by compulsively cynical, obsessively novel modernity.

In my travels I first encountered the term FOLK SOUL during my forays into Asatru. As time rolled on, I became aware that theirs is an adaptation of convenience from Jung to elaborate upon a supposed belief of the ancients. Of this I will remind you the Roman maxim, “Fortuna favours the bold.” So in this instance…

View original post 2,266 more words

You Have The Right

I think this shoe still fits.

The Serpent's Loft

“I don’t care if you’re Black, White or Purple,” is a phrase I could well do without hearing again until I am dead and in Hell or Detroit. “It doesn’t matter what colour you are if__________.” We all know it’s a program. There are only so many times I can remind you of the fact before I sound like an NPC myself. Still. This conversation is never not annoying. It is never not depressing. It shall always never end well.

Yes. I know. I used some bad grammar there. It was just to make sure I remind myself that I am, in fact, either a fed, a Russian bot or a troll. Or a concerned citizen who has recently learned his wife is pregnant and is overdosing on all those little Red Pills he swallowed over the years. I will tell you, internet anon, that fear takes on a whole…

View original post 1,849 more words


Old news. Some things have changed since I wrote this. I’m no longer affiliated with any political organism. That I’m aware of. I can’t speak for Agent Rick when he frames me for crimes I’d never commit.

Been digging in to my Asatru roots, and my beliefs regarding Ethnogenesis and Ethnocentrism. Let this be a preface to what might become next weeks blogpost. Enjoy. Or don’t. Boats and dinghies.

Eat the cake, bigot.

The Serpent's Loft

Most of us in the metapolitical game have heard about the Amerimutt: This idea that we as Americans are this rootless mass of randomised genetic strands floating about in a stew. Or a melting pot. Or a salad bowl. The status of being American does not mean much, it simply is. Or better still, when you come to America you become American. The former I think of largely as a bit of a projection, but that is just me. The latter is well meant, but asinine. Regardless, opinions vary. And as with most, they are in their nature quite reactionary.

So. Before I attempt to come to the crux of this article, allow me to me to address the implication above, that Americans are rootless. The inference to the implication, especially in identitarian politick, is that the American is inferior to the European because his roots are shallow, and not…

View original post 4,254 more words

Financial Peace

Seaxwife and I are thinking of doing the course again. If you’re not familiar with the programme and you’re not a millionaire, it won’t hurt to learn.

Fun fact, my sidekick “Seax’s Taxes, Bills & Debt” first appeared in this post. Truly my greatest ally.

The Serpent's Loft

Sometimes it’s nice to take a look at things that you, the individual can do. While it’s important to remember the cause that drives you, whether or not that is Nationalism or not, your own self is important to care after. Chances are good that your movement isn’t going to look after you, for you. Either because your movement is a placebo, as is the case with globalism whose appearance of socialism betrays an enabling and parasitic reality… or any of the counter-currents against globalism, whether they be individualism or whatever-ism.

However, I add this as a special note to any Nationalists who might be reading. It is worth investing in your own future. I realise that there is a tendency towards fatalism and nihilism in our cause. But I wish to make this argument: there is no guarantee that you are going to live to see SHTF, ROHOWA or…

View original post 2,698 more words

The Suspense is Killing Us

Not much has changed for me since I wrote this, but for my ‘faith’ such as it is, has grown firmer. Confirmation bias being what it is. Excuse me, I’m off to Bader Mein Hof. Anyway, I always liked this one but wrote it before I hit my groove, so I’m digging it up.

The Serpent's Loft

Life is a beautiful thing, a wonderful gift. Objectively speaking, we and life are made for each-other. Every day you wake up and are reunited with your House and all the loved ones that contains. The sun will rise, either over a blue sky or behind a clouded one. In any case, the rise is a sumptuous thing. The breeze will rustle through the leaves, and the trees will sway in prayer. The seasons come and the seasons go, to each their own sensuous charism. Somewhere beyond the stars, the possibility of yet greater lights to divide the firmament wait. Reality is a touching sentiment, and the fact that there is so much more unlearned is a staggering truth. The truth is that our senses tell us a great tale, but there is more even to life than these.

Ah, but Seax, you’re describing NATURE. I thought you said LIFE…

View original post 3,443 more words


Add to this my belief that Wōden is to the Teutons the Archetypical Promethean- or Luciferian to some- God who seeks the grail of the Perennial Sophia who lives and breathes in all North-Western, and other, lore. The starring metaphor in a love-song and ode whose principle stanzas are lost in poetic metre, aching to be reborn.

The arbiter of order who established civilisation on Ymir’s broken bones. The Philosopher-King who was not content with mere power, and saw order as an exercise in wisdom and not brute force. An enlightened sage unafraid to seek knowledge in dark corners, face turmoil with stiff resolve, and apply his winnings for the betterment of the divine tribe.

There are worse role models.

The Serpent's Loft

Ah, Father God of the Teutons! Odin, you’ve oft been called, but also Wotan, Wodan and Wōden. Our learned men of philology tell us your name once came as Wodenaz. The God of many names, many titles whose identity is so intertwined with the fate of the other Teutonic Gods that many feel you are the Only One. God of the Slain, God of Life – to each a different tale, God of Wisdom, Poetry – ecstasy. LORD of all that speaks to the hearts of they who hold Your name in high regard.

We owe a debt to Skald and Sceop who steeped your office in so high a regard that Your legacy survived the plantation of the Churches. I can’t say Your true name, nor know Your true face. But I, I have done as I might to follow in your footsteps. In some way, the miseries of…

View original post 2,330 more words

Creative Spirit

The Serpent's Loft

In my quest to determine for myself where the bridges between religion, spirituality, disbelief and despair cross over troubled water, I have determined this: that your creative centre is a sure path to finding what approximates the inner voice of deity. However you consider that deity to take shape. It has been established that man is a religious animal. I would submit that his religiosity is the domain of his creativity, that the two share an integral connection.

When I was younger and enrolled in Theological studies at my Alma Mater, a very selective panel of neurological studies were presented. One of which followed brain scans of a gaggle of Holy Rollers. The study purported that a portion of brain previously unused became active when these people began speaking in tongues. There were other studies, but the Holy Rolling stuck in my head for years.

When you walk backwards through…

View original post 1,992 more words