The Dutch Supreme Court has ruled that the Dutch state is liable for the deaths of Bosnian Muslims killed by Serbs in the Srebrenica massacre in a claim brought by relatives of three Muslim men who were in a group of 300 Muslims expelled by Dutch soldiers from a United Nations compound during the Balkans conflict, then killed by Bosnian Serb forces. The United States, out of its humanitarian instincts and belief that within every savage beats the heart of an incipient civilized man, created the most useless and dangerous body of international corruption this ancient planet has ever seen. The United Nations is not only not united, most of its members are not even nations. No Leftist organization ever dies, and the United Nations is perhaps the most corrupt Leftist organization on what is otherwise this good green Earth. Holding UN peacekeepers liable for their actions or inactions is welcome, for we tire of African UN peacekeepers raping girls and selling them on the open African slave market. Any sensible US government would order the UN to clear out and demolish the building and salt the ground.

They live in richly splendid isolation
They live in splendor past imagination
In luxury apartments paid by others
Pretending all the while that all are brothers
Their hatred for the West is beyond measure
Their hatred for the Whites their only pleasure
Each member of each UN delegation
Raised by the West to far beyond his station
The harm they do outweighs the benefaction
And useless when it comes to taking action
Mistakes when made are better off corrected
And so I urge our Congress be directed
To ship home all the UN we have vaulted
Beyond their worth and let the earth be salted

The Left argues that to kill the Muslims who kill our children to terrorize us only makes us the same as them, and the moment we kill them, they win. This is absurd Leftist nonsense. The only way to defeat the murderous Muslim jihadists is to cleanse the world of their presence. The Left says they will never yield, so best to simply accept that some of us will be killed. But rational minds say they will yield when their faces are ground into the dirt and their women scream their inconsolable laments. The Left says if we exterminate them we will live in guilt forever, but there is no moral ambiguity here. Murderous Muslims like al Qaeda and their affiliates set about killing us while we sleep, but one day we shall awake and say enough, and when we wake murderous Islam will feel the wrath of the Western Way of War, which when aroused to fury is war to the death, war to total annihilation. And so it shall be, with no regrets, except possibly at CNN, where they are already castigating Israel for their supposedly, in their eyes, disproportionate response to the hundreds of Hamas rockets raining down on Israeli civilians. And when the West awakes and realizes the only way to stop the Islamic killers is to kill them, we will do a Curtis LeMay on them.

We slowly drift through troubled sleep
Surrounded by cold, misty shapes
That torment us as children weep
Who know in dreams no one escapes
The misty shapes kill as they grin
Expunging lightly breathing souls
Of those without the taint of sin
Believing killings nears their goals
Of domination of the will
Attaining thus the moral force
Permitting them the final kill
Of all who fear the stronger horse
The night of horror ends at last
The sleeper wakens grim of eye
He knows the dream was not the past
But future scenes of how he’ll die
And with him all that he holds dear
His family, children, that and more
And knows that Muslims must know fear
Must show them that the West at war
Will turn whole countries into stone
Kill everyone with cold intent
Let their survivors then atone
And for a thousand years lament

The foreign policy of the Obama administration has been described by his lapdog press admirers as ‘nuanced’, somehow missing the obvious, that it is not so much nuanced as it is an utter and complete catastrophe. It isn’t his policy that’s nuanced, it is Barack Obama who is nuanced, so nuanced it is difficult to see where the nuance ends and the man begins. Like Horus the falcon god of the Pharaohs, he soars over the mountains, his intellect flaring in brilliant orgasmic colors, enveloping the breathless stars.  

He sees with focused blinkers
He dines with his own kind
The artists and the thinkers
To sharpen up his mind
His intellect is fright’ning
He’s smartest in the room
So quick his mind, like lightning
Whose flashes light the gloom
The man’s a ceaseless wonder
A man to give us joy
With ringing words like thunder
Our own nuancey boy

The president has three advisors. No, not Wynken, Blynken and Nod, as policy might suggest, but Samantha, Valerie and Susan, who, contrary to rumor, sit around a conference table and not a bubbling cauldron. The principal item on the agenda is how to resolve the Middle East conflagration that Obama has gotten the world into. He has installed our enemies in power in Libya and Iraq, sent arms and equipment to our enemies in Syria, and now wonders who he can attack in an attempt to restore the status quo ante.

The president’s advisors
All so cuddly and warm
Insist that black is white and white is black
Samantha Power, true to O
And also true to form
Suggests there’s simply no one to attack
Except those damn Israelis who
Will not accede to her
Suggestion that they love their neighbors well
Despite the fact that missiles landing
In their midst occur
With frequency and make their life a hell
Then Valerie, with narrowed eyes
Says Iran is the key
The Mullahs know there is no sense in war
I swear Iran wants peace by all
The Persian blood in me
My country is pacific to the core
Then O smiled broadly at his favorite
Commie, Susan Rice
Who smiled and said whoever one anoints
To be our friend and ally is
Just rolling of the dice
You don’t know if they’ll use the talking points
The president said thank you all
And left to play a round
Entrusting the Free World to witches three
His conscience clear he grabs his clubs
His policy is sound
It’s burning Middle East or Burning Tree

The question of reparations for slavery has again risen its ugly head. Do we owe reparations to people who owe their very existence to the existence of slavery? Shouldn’t they be thankful they’re alive? Every time a Republican president addresses a hostile black audience, I long to hear him say, “Slavery was a terrible thing, but if it hadn’t happened none of you would have been born, and neither would any of your parents, grandparents, great grandparents and great great grandparents. Louis Armstrong and Willie Mays would never have been born, and Greensleeves would still be in the top forty.” But it never happens.

The real question is what would the United States now look like had there been no slavery, and the answer is everything would have been different because hardly any white people of European descent alive today would have been born. Six hundred thousand young men died in the American Civil War, most before they married and had children. What happened to the women who would have married them and had children by them? A small number likely remained spinsters and childless for life, but the majority married someone else and had children by their second choice. Think about a single case and multiply it by six hundred thousand over seven or eight generations: In a world where there was no US slavery, Alice married Aaron and had children survive to adulthood. But in the real world, the world we inhabit, Aaron died in the Civil War, and Alice married Barton. The children she would have had with Aaron were never born, replaced by the children she had with Barton. But in the world without US slavery Alice married Aaron and Barton married Nancy. So what happened to Nancy when the Civil War intervened and Barton married Alice? Nancy married Jacob and another stone was thrown into the pond. These ripples in the population pond begin as small circles but expand to include almost the entirety of the white population of the US of the latter half of the Nineteenth and on into the Twentieth and Twenty-first centuries and beyond, in accordance with the iron rule of the exponential nature of an arithmetical progression. At some point in that relentless arithmetical progression most marriages and children born are the result of Aaron and six hundred thousand young men being killed in the Civil War. Had there been no Civil War it is not only Willie Mays and Louis Armstrong who would never have been born, it is me and most people of European extraction. Any speculation about what the US would look like today without slavery and without the Civil War must begin with this question: At what point did the history of the country begin to change because the majority of the people then alive were born because the Civil War never happened. Or maybe it happened before that. Would Washington have commanded the Army had he been born to a dirt poor farm family?

We’ll never know what might have been
Had Louis not been born
Would music be the same as now
Without that magic horn?
Would Washington have been in charge
To save an army torn
Had he been born and raised dirt poor
And not plantation born?
Would the Great War been not so Great
Had history been bent
And August ’14 White House said
The AEF be sent?
Would Lindbergh ever have been born
To fly to Le Bourget
The Wright brothers, would they be here
To show Lindberg the way?
I know determinists will shout
That someone else would fly
That someone else would make the same
Decisions where they lie
But I don’t know if everything
Is predetermined, so
I will confess the answers to
Those questions I don’t know

Vladimir Putin has visions of being Peter the Great, or maybe Stalin. His attempt to recreate the Soviet Union by inhaling nearby former mostly unwilling partners in that unholy, murderous union, will ultimately fail. The Russian bear of Vladimir Putin raises its head, sniffs the air, and tries mightily to make us believe he is the Golden Horde. And yet, when looked at more closely, the bear is revealed to be a wolfhound pup, wanting nothing more than to lie on its back and have it’s belly rubbed.

He turns his eye unto the south
A tasty morsel there
A quick inhale into his mouth
And no one seems to care
Ossetia now is no more
Just one more near abroad
A quick inhale, run up the score
The West is less than awed
He eyes the morsels to the west
Crimea, where ‘tis said
At Balaclava laid to rest
Are many British dead
But that was then and this is now
The time of hope and change
A time for hoping that somehow
Though ‘twould be passing strange
The Russian bear will change its ways
And walk, like man, upright
And yet, alas, the bear still stays
A doggie who will bite

There are those who lament that the history of the country is being forgotten. They are correct, it is being forgotten, but the forgetting of the past will be resolved in the fullness of time when, as the scientists are happy to tell us, Western children already born will live to the ripe old age of 150 or so. I can make this prediction in full confidence knowing that I am in the process of forgetting a good deal of my own past, as may be seen from my wife’s reaction when she recounts a recent trivial event and asks, always with feigned astonishment, “You don’t remember that?”

I remember well when as a lad
I climbed the front yard tree
Aware the freedom that I had
To see what I could see
The vacant lot where I played ball
The house where I did live
My memories complete recall
But now a battered sieve
Oh I recall things of the past
The stand my father made
The table top that seemed so vast
Where I sold lemonade
And I recall the whole darned cast
Of the Johnny Carson show
I watched it all from first to last
And sad to see him go
Apart from that the past is mist
Dim shadows faintly seen
I fail to see why some insist
That mem’ry must be keen
I do all right as I sit here
Unbound by passing time
Thesaurus and a mouse quite near
To make of life a rhyme

“If what used to be called ‘America’ is replaced by affinity groups based around races, beliefs or sexual orientations, the Left will inherit nothing but a broken, Balkanized world, not the shiny New International Order they were counting on.” – Richard Fernandez, The Belmont Club.

Two or three times over the last dozen or so years I have started a sci fi novel with this theme, but have never finished it because the plot outline always ended in indescribable carnage. I believe we are headed for balkanization, with our major cities turned to crime ridden third world cites run by black and Hispanic gangs in perpetual warfare with each other, too dangerous for a white person to venture into. I believe the Southwest will be de facto Mexican though still nominally a US territory. White America will retreat to the Southern and Mountain states, where a political party will arise that advocates cutting all ties with the third world rest of the country, including stopping all payments for government entitlements. It is at this point the country ceases to exist as a nation state and descends into anarchy. I believe we are headed in this direction, but I also believe we will not get there, though not because everyone realizes the error of his ways but because the white tribe will take charge and place its foot on the necks of the other tribes. Superior culture and superior smarts and superior firepower wins, but only if there is superior will. I may be unduly optimistic, but I believe when crunch time comes the will to keep one’s country is found. All it takes is one man and one white horse.

The rolling plains, the good black earth
The forests and the streams
Belong to those who hold them dear
And live their fathers’ dreams
The land they conquered, land they farmed
Will not be thrown away
Will not be given to the tribes
Who came the other day
The Left has riven some of will
But there are those who’ll fight
For dreams their fathers gave to them
They will not say goodnight

Events in the Middle East. Alarums and portents. As soon as they all get nuked up we’ll have Twelfth Imams popping up out of wells all over the place. I asked friends and family which day they would prefer the world to end, and there was no agreement.

Some said that if the world is ending one day
It might as well be on a rainy Monday
While others said if there’s a get to choose day
They’d much prefer it happened on a Tuesday
Some shrugged and said it really all depends day
As long as it is not an Ifs but Whensday
But many thought there couldn’t be a worse day
Than have the world be ending on a Thursday
The fatalists chose not a reason why day
But hoped it would not happen on a Friday
Some felt there really couldn’t be a badder day
That ruining the weekend meant a Sadderday
It seems that if the world is ending one day
We’ll all be sleeping in some gloomy Sunday

Thousands of unattended children from Central America are crossing our southern border and are being given asylum, food and medical treatment, joining the millions of Mexicans crossing our border unimpeded. Hundreds of thousands of North African Muslim boat people are coming ashore in Italy. Western civilization is imploding before our astonished eyes. The Third World is coming ashore, and uninvited at that. And if that weren’t bad enough, the Middle East is imploding, the Obama administration is imploding, and the economy is imploding. All the result of decades long Leftist rule, and one day soon that too will implode.

Once it’s put in motion
We see the very ocean
Deposit migrant people on our shores
The Western world is filling
With people who are willing
To leave their lives and embrace western lures
To them there are no borders
Defy policemen’s orders
They risk death just to find a place to stay
A place where they’re looked after
A place with children’s laughter
And best of all the taxpayers will pay
As well we now are learning
The Middle East is burning
As Sunnis fight the Shias to the knife
With casualties mounting
And bodies not worth counting
To be in Iraq now is worth your life
At home the raging scandals
Brought by Obama’s vandals
Have seen the VA and the IRS
Dispose of vets and disk drives
A world they know no risk thrives
And couldn’t care ‘bout public ire less
Our paper money’s worthless
The White House clearly mirthless
Although they laughed as freedom swiftly died
The tipping point is coming
And when it comes the humming
Will stop and tumbrels take them for a ride