A Necessary Ruthlessness

La France du 21ème

Punk is no longer feared. Punk is acceptable. Punk is moral, aware, humanitarian. ‘No Future’ has been succeeded by ‘Another future for the planet and our children’. Punk is no longer stupid and cruel, it’s just stupid. Rap, its heir, is yet more of a dullard. Using football and McDonald’s as its sole cultural references, it puffs and pants against the exploitation of the turd world by White Capitalism, yet is draped head to toe in capitalist American brands like a whitey; hating on France and fantasising about North Africa, it raps in French and languishes in France. It hates on Krauts but only spins German cars, rather like its darky blood-sisters who feign disdain for their white counterparts whilst straightening both their hair and beaks, and buttering themselves up in ‘whitening’ cream. These, these are the macacas of France, luxuriating in their role as ‘societal victims’, tucking their tracksuit bottoms into one of their socks ‘cause dere ancestors suff’ed so much in da shackles, know wha’ ah’m sayin’? As self-contradictory and conformist as all those dreadhead trustafarians who plead for pennies from our managers at the exit of K-Mart; they who flatter the negroes, and whom the negroes batter – ‘Hey Jason Castro, did you disguise yourself as a doormat so we could wipe the dog-shit from our little booties?’ As for your basic suburban chav – a new sub-proletariat that the pinkos hope will tag onto the left-wing electorate – if, as a ‘revolutionary’, he actually splintered the shop windows of ‘The System’, it’s only to pike and dress up in GUESS. Watch them scuttle and seethe around low-grade shopping malls. Rap pretends that it hates the system; in fact, it is the system, hence the irony that despite its pseudo-pranks it actually experiences very little in the way of censorship, whereas any label that is a touch patriotic – this of course being a more prohibited stance than that of a toxic paedo group like DIAPSIQUIR – experiences the full and rigid buggery of the law.

A genuinely ‘anti-system’ Art that seeks the renewal of Europe, that wily donkey currently decaying because of the physical weakening of its ethnic population: that, is Black Metal. Because it adds the vital satanic essence of youth – the newfound strength of robust bodies hewn from warrior castes – to both a refined synthesis of European cultures spanning the centuries, and a religious renewal.

Because above all it carries, in all its infinite darkness, the necessary ruthlessness.

An unhealthy mind in a healthy body. One must aim to be the TOTAL man. An AK on legs, a poet, priest, sodomite and musician. Pedro Calderón de la Barca was a warrior and a man of letters and a chaplain. The author of Don Quixote, Cervantes, was a heroic soldier before jaunting, in 1609, into the order of the Confraternity of the Slaves of the Most Blessed Sacrament. The troubadours: they were both poets and warriors. But you, you little ponce…you are magnificently versed in the Arts, books, all things spiritual, lovely and harmonious? You do not have time for sport and martial arts? You are skinny and runtish? Buy some brass knuckles. If you cross a big cunt, a crack with these knuckles in the middle of his nut – voilà, that’s a coma plain and simple. This is the solution, by the grace of old ‘brass knuckles’ you’ll be the TOTAL man. What, didn’t he take a tumble? How come? Did you fail, prick?! Look; me, I wanted to be a nurse, I wanted to be a teacher, I…I wanted to be a musician! It’s willpower that counts. Willpower.’

Famine, Diary of PN, in the magazine La mesnie Herlequin #1, forthcoming.

Translation : Martin, Monica and L’Atrabilaire.

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