A Tale of Two Nations
Line go up vs. Tradition
The Life of an Exile
I now live in the Caribbean on a relatively small island. I returned to the Caribbean about two years ago because I couldn’t help but feel more and more isolated and estranged from home and what was once our homeland. I think I understand the concept of “xeniteia” now. The island is a United States territory but seems to be somewhat immune to the GAE and Globohomo in its own way. For example, you won’t see any drag shows targeting kids any time soon here. I can guarantee you the mostly God-fearing locals won’t tolerate that kind of shit. At least for now.
My isolation has led me to wonder if my apprehensions about western society were being overblown , as my awareness of the goings-on over there are informed by writers on Substack and the always-useful, mostly-depressing but highly-informative You Can’t Stop Progress Series .
LP is doing God’s work there, really. I’d highly suggest supporting him. One day historians will recover YCSP clips from the ashes and use it to document the fall of western civilization.
Two things relieve me of the notion that I’m overblowing this. One is that I periodically return to the mainland for business. I get to see what’s going on with my own eyes. A recent trip back to Massachusetts indicated to me that yes, globohomo is indeed everywhere, from the pervasive blackwashed advertising to the “Pride” merch at Target to the ever-growing prevalence of badly passing trannies.
These kids look like the kind of kids that would frequent GameStop regularly back in 2008 the kind of smelly, neckbeard, pasty, overweight, addicted to videogames and porn type of basement dweller that usually stuck to their own weird circles.
The only difference now is that they’re wearing leggings and buttons that instruct me to call them “they/them”. I’m pretty convinced that the majority of the “trans” movement is comprised of people like this. They’re basically a bunch of Chris-Chan autists who would have been ridiculed back into their basement and reduced to cooming on My Little Pony figurines if the internet hadn’t allowed them to find each other and form an unholy alliance.
But anyway, yeah, the social rot is very apparent when returning to the mainland, and one can even see it in the smaller towns around New England. I stopped for gas in what used to be a quaint New England town outside of Boston to find it is now absolutely overrun with Hondurans, Ecuadorians, etc. I was the only guy there who spoke English, it seemed.
Hey, at least I can get a good Empanada in New England now amirite?
I’ll just ignore the litter, abandoned buildings, and overall sense of unease. Every time I had to go back to Massachusetts, I couldn’t wait to get out and back to my little island, my own little Elba; I got the feeling that I was a man without a country, at least one that I could recognize.
¡País, Religión, Familia!
The second thing that convinced me that my concerns were not overblown was the trip to Europe that I just returned from. Indeed, I am only up as early as I am now due to jet lag, which gives me time to write before I have to start work again.
My wife is Dutch, and I met her in the Dutch Caribbean during my “cool scuba guy” years. She’s lived with me in the US for just over a decade now and I have a little bit of pride for her adoption of the “cool” parts of American culture, yet she still will always be a Nederlander in her blood. It’s been a while since we saw the in-laws, and she didn’t want to spend a full two weeks in the Netherlands, so we devised a trip to Spain, a country we haven’t been to before. Afterwards, we would spend a few days in the Netherlands to catch up with other family and friends.
And what a trip it was. I had been on a few trips to Italy before this and had held Italy in high regard. It retained beautiful historical architecture since up to the Roman days, the legends about its cuisine were definitely warranted, traditions were still followed, families, for the most part, stayed together. It is also the location and seat of the Catholic church.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from Spain but I figured it would be similar to its other Catholic Mediterranean neighbor. I wasn’t wrong in that regard, but there was something… different about Spain.
Now, I want to be careful here, as I am merely reporting observations from about a week in the country spent as a tourist. Of course, to really get to know the country and the Spanish people (or any culture for that matter), one should integrate with them, talk with them at depth and live their lifestyle, and live among them for a while. So apologies to any Spaniards that might object, these are just the perceptions from an outsider.
Also, I want to preface my observations by acknowledging that globohomo rot is indeed affecting Spain, but that it appears to be happening much more slowly than the rest of its EU neighbors. Most of the places that I travelled to were smaller cities. They were more historic and thus more conservative places, and that may also have skewed my perspective.
With that out of the way, I was continuously surprised by the lack of oikophobia in the Spanish consciousness. For example, the city of Toledo calls itself the “City of Three Cultures”, as the city has historically been populated by Christians, Muslims and Jews alike. There exists a mosque built in 999 AD when the Moors had control of the territory that, after the Reconquista, was consecrated as a chapel.
And… there are no signs that this is going to change. No placards around the building denouncing this awful “stealing” of Muslim heritage. Christian chants are still played on speaker in the building and the Crucifix remains hanging above its altar.
Also, there exists a Synagogue in the Jewish Quarter of Toledo that was once named Ibn Shoshan. Spaniards had risen up to expel Jews in the “Pogroms of 1391”
(This is most likely, of course, because the Spanish undoubtedly were just jealous of the Jews and used them as a scapegoat and of course the Jewish people are perfect and would never do anything subversive to destroy western societies ever and there is no precedence of this happening at all.)
After this, the Catholic Church gained control of the Synagogue and, again, consecrated it as the Church of Santa Maria la Blanca which it operated as for several centuries. The building later had other functions as a barracks and a warehouse, among other things, but was returned to the Archdiocese in 1929 and now it remains as a museum.
Now get this, in 2017 the Federation of Jewish Communities in Spain “requested” (I’m sure we all know by now that these are usually not requests but demands) that the synagogue be returned to “the Jews”. The president of this organization, Schlomo Shekelstein Isaac Querub lamented that the Toledo archbishop was not being a good enough goy, saying “The winds of Rome have blown very weakly in Spain… The gestures of John XXIII, Paul VI, John Paul II, Benedict XVI and Pope Francis seem to be reaching Spain very late – or not at all.”
And what did the Archbishop of Toledo do? Well, according to the archdiocese he had “agreed to meet again after Christmas, but neither Mr Querub nor anyone acting on his behalf has asked in writing for an official meeting, which is why the archbishop has been unable to respond to his request” and noted that the funds from the museum help with upkeep of the several other (outstandingly beautiful and moving) monuments in the city and concluded that regardless, the building technically belongs to the Spanish government and not the archdiocese. Additionally the archdiocese has spent over 800,000 euros to keep the thing in shape.
Shekelstein Querub proceeds, to, of course, kvetch ““People still use the word judiada [to describe acts of cruelty or extortion] and in León [during Holy Week] they talk about ‘killing some Jews’ when they mean ‘having a few drinks’.”
The horror.
“But we’re not the ones who should be telling the Catholic church what it needs to do how it needs to do it or when it needs to do it. We’d just like this symbolic gesture” he adds.
In other words: “No one is forcing you to hand it over, but, you know, it would be unfortunate if you didn’t accede to our demands goyim. You’re being very close to being literally Hitler right now.”
So what ultimately happened? Well, hard to tell because this article is behind a paywall, but Wikipedia sums it up: “There is no judicial recourse because the modern Jewish community are not direct descendants of the original owners.”
Just take a moment and ponder how, in current year, how absolutely, unfathomably based this is.
Can you imagine any other western European (or American, for that matter) government not bending the rules to appease everyone’s favorite happy merchants? Can you see these nations’ politicians not groveling before the Tribe, offering them not only this building but some medieval churches thrown in as “reparations” to these people?
No judicial recourse? Hah. Not like that’s stopped them before. Ron Desantis or Rishi Sunak or Mark Rutte would all fistfight each other to be the first to undermine their nation’s laws in order to give our long-nosed friends a reacharound.
So yeah. I think that struck me the most: Not only does there still seem to be some fight left in the Spanish people, they are absolutely unapologetic about it. The Museum of the Army in that same city sits across the river from the Toledo Infantry Academy where a young cadet named Francisco Franco got his military training. The museum was only partially open for renovations (sadly) as it is housed in the Alcázar of Toledo- a gorgeous, imposing, and very old castle, built upon foundations laid by Visigoths.
I expected to see the same sort of pearl-clutching apologies in this museum as any others you might find in northern Europe. Apologies for the conquest of the Americas. Shame for their forced conversion and occupation of the Netherlands, and of course, a glaring condemnation of the Generalissimo himself.
Nope. None of that. Granted, most of the museum was closed, but the temporary exhibits shown included exhibitions of medieval weapons and a large exhibit on the Reconquista, to include the strategies involved in securing the Iberian peninsula in the name of Christendom.
Based.
As to the Generalissimo himself? Well, he’s a ghost. You don’t hear about Franco at all. Spain sold out to its new Globohomo masters when he died in 1975, and I got the feeling mentioning his name was very much like mentioning Voldemort. During my time in Madrid, standing outside of the palace, you see plinths with Spanish leaders and heroes, and some notably vacant ones. But Spain took a long time to remove the vestiges of the man that we are all supposed to scorn, much to the chagrin of journalists and other arms of the GAE everywhere (despite the fact that the US had cozy relations with him during the Cold War, but we’ll just memoryhole that).
To my wife and in-laws, I commented how it was strange that Franco’s statues and presence weren’t present in the city at all. I mean, after all, he did run the country for decades.
I was told this was wrongthink and that he was a very bad man.
“Well” I said, “Whatever the case, he wouldn’t have tolerated all this fucking graffiti.”
During my time in Spain, I did inevitably think of Franco despite his lack of presence. During my downtime I started to read more and came across this essay which dares to challenge the current paradigm of thinking of Franco as a complete monster. I won’t recap the whole thing here, but let’s think about what Franco had to deal with: He was waging a very real war against communist insurgents in his own country. It was, by all accounts, a war, and did not end with the official end of the Spanish Civil War. So yes, he had to “drain the swamp” so to speak. Since my knowledge on the history of this conflict is still quite thin, I won’t go so far as to be a complete apologist for Franco, but I will acknowledge that he was fighting a deep, entrenched enemy, that they had to be rooted out, that his opponents used no small amount of violence, terror and murder as well, and that the alternative- a “Republican” (Communist) victory- would have been far more destructive to Spain.
I think the reason why the current regime wants to Voldemort-ize Franco instead of erect plaques in the city condemning his “evils” is because that kind of thing might make people remember him. Those people might start to, you know, think about things like Franco’s role in Spain’s incredible post-war economic rebound from 1950 to 1975. Those people might point out his fervent support of the Church and how he kept Spain from sliding into atheism like its European neighbors. They might point out his promotion of strong families and strong communities. Those kinds of things just might resonate with people living in the sterile, feminized, demoralized world we find ourselves in today.
And we can NOT have anyone thinking about THAT, now can we?
Spain seems to have a delayed onset reaction to globohomo politics and the vagaries of the EU. From the bird’s-eye view that I have, it appears to me that Franco had very much to do with this. Other sources of Spain’s traditionalism may come from its persistent (stubborn, I’m sure, to the Regime) support the the Church and its legacy of repelling invaders as they had during the Reconquista.
I’d also like to point out that the churches were not merely museums. Spain’s places of worship, from its towering majestic cathedrals to its smallest cloisters and chapels, were consistently filled with not just tourists but the faithful. Feeling moved to pray one morning after witnessing these majestic buildings, I stole into the city of Ávila to a 14th century chapel one weekday to find I was far from the only one to pop in for this purpose: I was joined by at least 20 other practitioners. There was something… profound about this, and it instilled a sense of awe as I kneeled in these pews in front of timeless artwork and joining in this act with my temporary neighbors as so many have done for centuries before us.
Take a moment and observe this photograph that I took in the streets of Madrid. It illustrates, I think, something else that makes Spain quite unique from its EU compatriots:
Sure, your eyes were probably drawn to these beautiful buildings and their spectacular architecture. They may have even noticed the carefully laid stone blocks of the sidewalk in the place of concrete. But did you notice something else?
Did you happen to catch that all of the people randomly caught in this photo- in Spain’s capital, its most international city- are all….
ethnically Spanish?
I challenge you to go to the heart of London, Berlin, Amsterdam or Paris with a camera, take a random photo, and see people of those country’s ethnicities comprising the majority of it. Go ahead, I’ll wait.
Madrid, of course, being cosmopolitan is naturally a focal point of EU and WEF gayness but it still, still does not come close to the level of the rest of western Europe. Sure, I saw a black gay dude with eye makeup manning a cosmetics station in the city’s largest department store but, I mean, is that really a surprise in a city such as this?
While having lunch we did see the African street “merchant” selling counterfeit/stolen goods pop up. The difference is, that unlike in Paris, these guys had cords attached to the sheets on which they laid their goods. Why? Because the police actually take this shit seriously in Madrid, and will prosecute them if caught. They were there in the street for all of 3 minutes before they disappeared. I turned my head and by the time I turned it back they were gone. 15 seconds later a cop car came down the street. This was a stark contrast to the rows upon rows of African “merchants” you see setting up comfortably in other European cities.
What was remarkable was how little Spain seems to have been affected by the waves of migrants flooding into Europe compared to the rest of the EU, even in its capital city.
In fact, GAE/WEF appendages like Human Rights Watch have definitely noticed this. It seems like a ton of globohomo entities love to kvetch about Spain:
Between May 17 and 19, an estimated 10,000 people entered Ceuta, swimming or wading across a beach frontier, after Moroccan authorities reportedly stopped enforcing border controls following a diplomatic dispute with Spain. The group, of whom between 1,500 and 3,000 were estimated to be children, faced summary returns and pushbacks upon arrival as well as mass “voluntary” returns within days, giving rise to concerns that Spanish authorities blocked access to asylum, returned third country nationals to Morocco, and failed to determine children’s best interests before sending them back. Ceuta’s already overcrowded reception facilities were overwhelmed by those whom the Spanish authorities did not immediately expel, with local authorities setting up makeshift shelters, including for the more than 700 children who remained. Thousands of other migrants were left sleeping rough in substandard conditions.
Based.
The result of this? Spain stubbornly remains Spanish. In fact, take a look at this:
As of 2021 84.77% of people living in Spain were born in Spain. Now, let’s compare this to the Netherlands:
74.77% of people living in the Netherlands were born there. a full 10% lower.
It goes without saying that I was very impressed with my trip to Spain. I was constantly awe-struck with just how beautiful her cities were. Salamanca is named the “Golden City” because it was constructed of a local sandstone with this particular color. Segovia, Toledo and Avila and Madrid were all unique. The monumental cathedrals of these cities were all built in a similar Gothic style but were built with materials found in their locales and designed by different artists. Each had its own flavor that told its own story of that city and its relationship with God. There was no mistaking which city you were in just by taking a look around. This is something that is so desperately missing in the United States and much of modern Europe.
During my downtime in Toledo, I came across this article which echoes my point by comparing Toledo, Spain with Toledo, Ohio.
In Ávila we stayed in an apartment across the road from a the church where St. Teresa of Ávila was baptized. The Church would post notices of residents of the town that had died on its walls outside. Passers-by would walk by, take notice of the billboard, and leave knowing (and caring) that one of their own passed with the intention of including that person in their prayers that day. That kind of stuff warmed my heart, and made me ache for that kind of community. I longed for that kind of heartfelt, authentic compassion towards your neighbor that goes much deeper than the kind of tired, saccharine corporate sloganeering that you’d find in a car commercial or on some Facebook frame.
Before I move on, I’ll just share a few of my photos, so you can maybe get an idea of what I’m talking about. Sorry. I suck at photography.
Als je hem een vinger geeft, neemt hij de hele hand
I want to make one thing clear before I move on: I love the Dutch. I mean, I married one. They are a rather stoic people but are incredibly warm once you make friends with them. They are resourceful, polite people, but what I love most about them is their famed directness. It’s refreshing to be in the company of people who will not hesitate to tell you what they really think after being around Americans who tend to patronize you with faux-friendliness.
I love the kroket and the belegen kaas and the smoked rookwurst you get at HEMA. I appreciate their history as a tiny country that sent bold, hard men across the seas which formed an empire to rival England and Spain. They defied both Spanish and French rule and won their independence. It gave us brilliant scientists. As a result of persecution from the Catholics, they embraced religious tolerance and its philosophers argued for the Rights of Man.
Indeed, the entire American experiment has its roots there: The Pilgrims sought refuge in Holland and left for America from Delfshaven. Much of the Declaration of Independence seems to have been inspired by the Dutch declaration of independence from Spain.
And the women. My God the women. I thought that Spain would show me exotic Spanish beauties, but nothing like the Netherlands. You can’t do so much as catch a train at the station without running into a gorgeous woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. These are women that you would normally only find in fashion magazines and swimsuit editions of sports magazines (well, before real models were replaced by obese, “diverse”, transsexuals) and here they are, seemingly growing from trees.
I love the Netherlands, or, I should say, I love what the Netherlands was. What it is now is an exemplar of what the terminus of liberal democracy has gotten us. The lofty ideals of equality and liberty for all have resulted in a population that has forgotten the divine and transcendent and has degenerated into a fanatical devotion to tolerating the worst vices. These ideas, once respectable, have degraded into reflexive rationalization regarding abhorrent practices such as having strangers come on TV so they can show their neovaginas to children. “After all,” the Dutchpersxn says, “what’s wrong with the human body anyway? Why should kids not get to see the bodies of grown men with their penises lopped off (who seem to get some kind of sick satisfaction from doing so)?”
Its legacy of being safe refuge for non-Catholics (and non-Anglicans) has morphed into an unhealthy obsession with flooding its own nation with Africans, Moroccans, Turks, and other foreigners with a foreign religion. The few remaining people in the Netherlands who remain religious (as of 2012 that number was 47%) are people of faiths different than the traditional Protestant religion of the country. 22% of the population are those damn stubborn Catholics again (how dare these Papists not shed their faith in God for Father Science!). 5% are Muslims. The Dutch Reformed Church and Protestant Church of the Netherlands make up a paltry 6% each. The traditional religions of the nation will soon be eclipsed by followers of Mohammad.
And the gorgeous blonde women? An endangered species. The number of Dutch-born natives in the nation plummeted from 79.73% in 2010 to the 74.77% it is today.
Now, I love the Dutch people, and this includes my in-laws. I don’t know if he reads the stuff I put on Substack, but i I love my father-in-law too. He’s a smart, compassionate man and has welcomed me as a member of the family. I have the privilege of actually liking my in-laws and looking forward to spending time with them.
But… but… he is a prime example of the head-in-the-sand middle class managerial type that pretends that nothing is wrong. My in-laws were concerned about me, as they could tell that I’d been going through a rough time, especially since the COVID debacle. My feeling of alienation was apparent enough that they worried about me going off the deep end. While we were in Spain, this triggered a conversation about what I was so damn uneasy about. After all, I had a decent job. I lived in a tropical paradise. I was married to a beautiful Dutch woman. Just let loose and enjoy life right?
So naturally I had to comment on how I saw the way things are going. I mean, short from revealing my full power level, (and plied with a few Spanish beers), I let out a lot. I mentioned that I cared about the future of western civilization, and that, for example, I loved the Dutch people and the great nation that the Dutch built, and I see it eroding before my very eyes along with the rest of Western Civilization.
So naturally he told me about how I was blowing things out of proportion and how it wasn’t so bad and basically regurgitated every WEF talking point there was to talk about. First off, I was assured, the Netherlands was being very strict with refugees, and that many don’t make it into the country. And after all, why shouldn’t they welcome them in? They’re people in need. And for the immigrants who want to move here? “Well they’re as Dutch as I am”, he says.
You know. You’ve heard this kind of thing before. COVID was indeed dangerous. Diversity is our strength.
And of course, he acknowledged that the USA and Britain had some bad problems but, you see, the Dutch system is rigorous in that there’s checks and balances. While corruption may run rampant there, the Dutch system is far too robust. There are judges that check the government. The system is transparent enough that the people would see through this kind of thing and the media has reported on this kind of thing before. My concern about, say, the WEF calling the shots for America and every European nation was simply unfounded conspiracy theories, you see?
It was about that point that I realized what I was dealing with, excused myself, and went to bed. There’s no slaying that dragon. There’s no deprogramming someone who is that connected to the Matrix. I went to bed hoping I didn’t completely alienate myself and made my father-in-law think that I was a le ebil Nazi, which of course is the worst thing you could be in the Boomer Truth Regime, especially for the Dutch. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case, and the rest of the trip went smoothly without further political discussion.
Regels zijn regels
“Rules are rules”. It’s a common saying the Dutch have. It’s one that I feel is starting to slip at least out in the hinterlands where Dutch farmers have finally started a mini-rebellion now that the WEF is coming for their livelihoods, but it’s an attitude that’s very much ingrained in the culture. I guess that comes with living in one of the most densely populated nations on Earth.
There is a system, you see, and the people vote on the system so it’s a “good” system. The rules are there for a reason. It’s a very consensus-based society. I’ve often called the Dutch the most intolerant tolerant people on Earth. Sure, they are famous for decriminalizing prostitution and weed early on, but what they may not enforce policy-wise they sure do enforce socially. If you go over to a Dutchman’s house and elect to have a beer instead of a coffee at 8pm coffee time, you’re sure to attract some odd looks. God forbid you make a boterham with cheese AND meat. How profligate.
Their biggest sacred cows are Liberal Democracy and the Boomer Truth Regime. It is anathema to question it. Any illiberal dissent is simply not socially tolerated, and any religious position has been slowly, but almost completely, exorcised from public discourse. If you are a public figure, may find yourself imprisoned or at least fined for questioning things like, you know, muh 6 gorillion, or for the sin of suggesting that homosexuality isn’t normal or that the Netherlands should remain populated by Dutch people.
The last time I spent any appreciable amount of time in the Netherlands was about six years ago, and my what a difference those six years makes. We returned from Spain by flying into Brussels Airport and driving to my wife’s hometown of Arnhem. It was fairly late, and my father-in-law notes that the trucks that I see parked on the side of the road by the rest areas of the freeway were there because there’s been a “rash of robberies, so they park close together for safety at night.”
Interesting.
The next day my wife wants to go to the city center in her old stomping grounds to do some shopping.
We take the bus from her parent’s pre-planned suburban community outside of the city and pass by the neighborhood she grew up in. I remember seeing photos of it from back in the day. This is where her and her sister would ride bikes and attend school. They’d walk or ride bikes in safety to attend a Dutch school with Dutch kids.
Here’s what it is now: The streets are populated by people of various ethnic groups to exclude the Dutch. An old school has been converted to a refugee service center. A mosque has been erected. The streets are now filled with graffiti and litter. Numerous signs for the buildings are written in Arabic. Several more buildings are abandoned. The grass has not been cut.
You know, the times they are-a-changing and all that. I spotted a look in my wife’s eye that looked something like serendipity and remorse for what her old neighborhood became.
We get to Arnhem and walk past two military-age Arabic men speaking in Arabic and sharing a joint. It’s noon on a weekday, but these guys don’t appear to be working anytime soon. We walk the streets of downtown Arnhem and pass many more of these types of men. It seems the only people out around now are pensioners, housewives, and “youths”. We have lunch on a lovely terrace, and get to enjoy the view of a young black man, obviously tweaking on something and drinking a beer, twitch in the corner against the exterior of the store across the way. I move my backpack closer to my feet.
Several shops have closed down. The biggest example of which is the HEMA- what I can best described as Target’s Dutch cousin. My wife spent a lot of time there, and was quite shocked that it wasn’t there anymore. Turns out it didn’t shut down completely- it was just downsized to a smaller storefront down the street.
In the HEMA, you walk in and see photos of models on the wall advertising their cosmetics. None of them are Dutch. They are all black or some various shade of brown. Oh, and you also see this:
Progressive!
Also, in the “Men’s” department you’re treated to a full-size poster of a shirtless FTM tranny, complete with zippertits. Excuse me that I didn’t grab a photo of that- I didn’t have the opportunity. Man, Target was really aiming low.
My wife comments on how disorderly the store is and doesn’t remember HEMA having such lax standards before.
Aside from passing a Taco fucking Bell on the way to Arnhem’s most famous landmark (no seriously, a fucking Taco Bell. In the Netherlands), I don’t want to comment too much on what else I encountered, because I think what I saw next was enough to sum up what is happening in the Netherlands.
The construction of St. Eusebius’ Church began in 1492. It stood as the focal point of the city for centuries and suffered severe damage during Operation Market Garden. It was renovated and partially rebuilt after the war, but with religiosity in steep decline in the Netherlands, it became more of a museum. When I last visited Arnhem it was being renovated again, and its outer walls were covered with a large scaffolding. I was excited to see it returned to its former glory.
Instead, what I saw was this:
Yes. Those are sperms. On a Church.
Complete with tardigrades and a map of the solar system and a model of an atom and what looks suspiciously like a COVID-19 virus.
SCIENCE! is your god now. No, not science, but SCIENCE!
Who is responsible for this abortion? Well, whoever was responsible for hiring the “artist” tasked with restoring this historic monument for some reason hired a total fag named Arno Coenen. On his website, he explains his “artistic choices”
When one approaches the story of Noah's Ark with today's knowledge, it seems alienating: why build a giant vessel to protect the species of the Flood? You could store the contents of the ark at the cellular level in test tubes, after which you will clone it later. Or you store the DNA information on a chip: Noah's Ark in your inner pocket. But that doesn't make the story any less current. Important animal species are still dying out and the earth is threatened by natural disasters.
Ah yes, you know, that timeless story of the Flood and Noah’s Ark. So outdated. Definitely not a timeless legend about man’s pact with the Divine. After all, we have a new religion and that religion is SCIENCE! don’t forget to put in a word about climate change to get that Green cred. What kind of idiot was God to suggest an ark anyway?
What utter wankery.
Want more of this brilliant douchebag’s art? Here ya go.
I can think of no one better suited to bring glory to a house of God than this fart-sniffing fudgepacker. I mentioned the intentional destruction of beauty and transcendence in my Maya series, and here it is on full display. This is a man who has most certainly at least attempted to fellate himself.
Oh and there’s more! Not only is the “artwork” merely confined to the building itself, local “artists” submit their work to be displayed on exhibition. Instead of the Pietà or the cross or the Saints, you get such lovely work as this:
and this:
Man, so much better. All that God stuff just really didn’t stir the human soul, but this stuff? Well it stirs something alright.
Like, I don’t know… existential terror.
I’m sure the Dutch love this shit. The Church has been in the way of human beings discovering their full potential and discovery of self, after all. What better way to show that you are the type of forward-thinking, progressive, intellectual citizen of the world than to say “You know what? Fuck it. Let’s eschew millennia of history and the human experience with the transcendent and make a monument to our own goddamn egos”.
Surely it’s much better than those dreary, soul-crushing cathedrals in Spain right?
Here’s an example of this nonsense. Some fool cut a hole in the dome of the Toledo Cathedral so that it radiates sunlight upon this depressing, busy, uninspired work with statues of fictional characters that some dude wrote about 2000 years ago.
Psh. Look at all these dumb mythological symbols and characters. It doesn’t even comment on climate change or science! I’m so glad the Dutch have moved past this kind of silly superstition and embraced what’s really important, like tardigrades and sperm.
My disappointment was palpable, but what did I expect? This is what the Netherlands has become.
But that’s not even the end! There’s one final insult to the church and its grounds. You see, the church sat in a plaza- the “Kerkplein”. During the renovation, it wasn’t that much to look at:
Alright, yeah, it was nothing special, but you know, a skilled landscape architect has a lot to work with here. Surely the most prominent and historic building in your city deserves to have a plaza that matches its beauty right? Perhaps a fountain, some nice trees, hedges and flowers? A little garden so that people can escape the hustle and bustle of urban life for a bit?
What are you stupid? No one pays for gardens! You see, if we put a cinema there with shops and flats above it that people can rent out, then we can make line go up!
Here is what the brilliant redesign of Kerkplein has resulted in:
Ah yes, the ever-modern, ever-efficient, ever-progressive globohomo tradition of what I’ve termed the shitbox building. This shit is everywhere. Rectangles and glass. Filing cabinets for people.
Don’t get me wrong. Not all Dutch cities look like Arnhem. Some, like Utrecht, still hold on to their beauty:
Pretty gorgeous right? But that doesn’t stop the march of globohomo. The Dutch just seem keen on filling their cities with eyesore shitboxes. Here’s a new, modern, “Green”, building in the works that I’m sure the Dutch would agree is far better than the horribly inefficient and old-timey scene you just saw above:
Ooh! Look at this marvel! Rectangles stacked on more rectangles! Man this makes the spirit soar.
These are existing apartments in Utrecht. Wow, I don’t know what to say. Look at these bright colors! Sure to put anyone in a good mood as they come home from work to sit in their 5mx5m apartment and jerk off to VR porn.
Man, I’d sure rather live in this technical marvel. After all it’s green. Literally!
And high-capacity! I mean, all of these “Nieuwe Nederlanders” need a place to live right? Well, better keep building more housing for them. Why not just wholly engineer a neighborhood from scratch? It’ll shave off a couple of zeroes from the balance sheets.
Here’s what’s next for Utrecht:
This is Merwede Utrecht, a brand-spanking new WEF approved, fully preplanned and preconstructed neighborhood in the works. We are assured that
Merwede Utrecht will become a green and car-free city district where 12.000 people can live, work and relax. The urban development plan for this most modern district of Utrecht has been completed. The plan was drawn up by the municipality of Utrecht and Bura Urbanism together with ten other owners. As a result of this collaboration, the 24-hectare site between the Merwedekanaal and Park Transwijk will be developed as a whole
Great. Just great. This is definitely not becoming the world of Cyberpunk 2077 at all. What a glorious future Nederlanders have.
But anyway, back to Arnhem. After being somewhat shocked from the contrast between Spain and the Netherlands, I went to bed. This was just a small snippet of the Netherlands, I thought. The next day we planned on going out to a smaller town that my sister-in-law moved to. It still had the thatched roofs and farmlands with the cute cows and, you know, actual Dutch people. It was also prohibitively expensive but white flight comes with a cost, after all.
No, this is just one city. It’s not that bad for the whole country. There’s still the old Netherlands out there…
And, as if to prove the point of my running internal monologue of the day to myself, I awoke to explosions.
BANG….. BANG…
Now, to a guy who has spent an appreciable amount of time in Baghdad, I was accustomed to this noise, but not accustomed to hearing this noise outside of Iraq. I recognized it for what it was almost immediately, but put myself into a state of semi-denial. “Eh, maybe it was just some forklift dropping a heavy pallet of something”, I thought. “Maybe it’s someone clumsily emptying a dumpster with a garbage truck.”
And then I looked at the time. No one was doing construction or collecting garbage at 3:45 am on a weekday.
And sure enough, moments later I heard sirens.
Nope, those were definitely explosions. I would not be sleeping again that night, so I went downstairs to make myself some coffee as I looked through Twitter for some confirmation. I found it, and it was later reported on that there were indeed explosions not 2 kilometers away from where my wife, her parents and I were sleeping
I stayed up, drank my coffee, pet my in-law’s dog, and waited for my father-in-law to come down as we were scheduled to go golfing. I mentioned I was up since before 4 A.M. due to the explosions. He had no idea. I suppose everyone else slept through them.
A look of concern crossed his face as I recapped what I read in Der Gelderlander. He was silent for a moment, then, after some thought, remarked “Yes, this has been a new trend. There have been several explosions in Rotterdam over the past year or so… drugs and gangs most likely.”
This shocked me. I heard nothing about it, and then, yes, after researching this later I found out that there have been almost 50 explosive devices detonated in Rotterdam this year. FIFTY.
Now I challenge you to go to a search engine and look for news on this. You know what you won’t find? Any identifiable information about the perpetrators. What probably blew me away the most was the Dutch press’ absolute inability to describe this, even when some of the perpetrators are captured. We are not given a name or any identifying features, just ages.
And the ages seem to be the only thing we know about the attackers. This all leads to this incredibly demoralizing article which is so fraught with newspeak and euphemism that it borders on the absurd and nonsensical.
“We should not focus on the wrong group. I share the concerns which we all have. [But] we have made the mistake in the past of saying that vulnerable young people were responsible for, for example, assassinations. (...) Of course, it is worrying that teenagers are involved, and 14- or 15-year-olds are being arrested for this. But we shouldn't label the whole group that way. Then we will miss a group that is involved in this.”
This is Jeroen van den Broek, criminologist and researcher at Erasmus School of Law, with his head, in Dutch fashion, so incredibly entrenched in sand that he cannot even make a coherent point.
What group are we not to judge? Youths? Are Netherlanders singling out random teenagers for being suspected in bombings and harassing them in the streets?
Meneer van den Broek has his head shoved so far up his own ass that he cannot even discourage people from discriminating against, say, foreigners, who are involved in this because to even suggest this is to commit social and career suicide in the Netherlands. Read that article and see if you can understand what the fuck he’s talking about. Then read it again with your best globohomo fagspeak translator and it’s pretty apparent what’s been going on.
Of course, I didn’t know about all this during my conversation that morning with my father-in-law. All I said was “Well, that’s not a good trend is it?”.
“No.” he replied. “No it is not”.
He paused in what appeared to be a moment of contemplation. Maybe these weren’t just problems to be expected as “part and parcel” of living in a big city. Maybe these problems will one day, reach you and your family. Maybe they will reach the place where your wife and children lay their head. Maybe the problems become so pervasive that you cannot outrun them. You cannot “white flight” them.
Maybe, just maybe, he reconsidered some of the things he told me back in Spain.
Maybe.
Mr. William Corn, I agree wholeheartedly. The Sagrada Familia and the old cathedrals of Avila are something to behold. And you won't find anything like that anywhere else.