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“Joe Sobran said you couldn’t even really call it a book…because there are no talking heads in it.”

I’ve said it before: Joe Sobran has a necro-romance with the very, very late hack author, Bill Shakespeare — a topic only Harvard or Yale “intellectuals” give a damn about, not because it relates to their life in any usable, common-sense way, but because it’s “in vogue” to do so in the so-called intellectual crowds. I’m sure smoking marijuana is in vogue with those Reds too.

Meanwhile, Bob is writing books to save the White race. I’ll buy Bob’s book. I would be inclined to start a fire in my fireplace with Sobran’s books just so I could have enough light to read Bob’s books by it. Perhaps Sobran should come down off his Buckley-like throne and join us in the trenches. He could recite Shakespeare to keep his knees from knocking once the revolution gets messy.

Comment by Mark

ME:

Joe is a fully trained Shakespeare scholar. During my DC days we would sit on the porch and he would quote wads from the Bard’s plays. He wasn’t showing off. We just enjoyed them, especially after a moderate intake of alcohol.

I was walking with Joe a couple of years back when he finished his book, “Who Was Shakespeare?” He told me he was getting very tired telling the truth and being kicked downstairs for it. He wanted to concentrate on Shakespeare again.

On the one hand I sympathized. The man had lost his job and friendship and the sponsorship of William Buckley for raising hell about the Jews.

On the other hand, it was a little like me hearing a hundred times a year for fifty years, “But, Bob, I’ve got a LIFE!” The clear implication being that Bob has no life, so HE can dedicate himself to the battle for our survival, a minor matter compared to getting Little Suzy to Kindergarten on time.

I had gotten tired long before Joe got into this fight. He and Buchanan were pro-immigration freaks in 1980 and they were people I had to fight. I was exhausted THEN, which is why I am on disability now

Which brings up the big difference between us and the usual wolf pack Mark (I hope to God I got the person right, I’m too TIRED to search back right now) talks about.

In a wolf pack the aging leader will die before he gives up his lead position. In our group, Ole Bob lives for the day he can see some other tail up front. I am endlessly encouraged to look out of the corner of my eye and spy, in alphabetical order because my old tail can’t take another nip, Alan B, IF he DOES what he proposes, Dave and Mark and Peter coming up beside me. If I missed anybody, speak up, but we are in pretty rarified company here.

I long for the day when the leaders are up front and Ole Bob can lope along behind and whine to Joe Ororke about how those smartass young pups up front don’t realize what WE went through. Our Joe will tell me to shut up, but I won’t.

Joe SOBRAN was a good buddy until I was able to tell the world to go to hell and put myself beyond the pail. I think that the reason Joe and Pat don’t return my calls is because they are Catholics first and whites third or so.

Whenever somebody raises hell about embryonic stem cell research, I remember risking my job by refusing to have anything to do with any “pro-life” effort to outlaw in vitro fertilization. There are over thirty thousand people alive today, almost all of them intelligent whites, as a result of in vitro. “Pro-lifers” didn’t want them born because you had to kill some fertilized eggs in the process.

And to make their case, they never hesitated to lie like rugs.

So when stem cell research came up, they used the old generic “conservative” argument I discuss in the the Intro to my book below:

“I’ve always been wrong before, but this time I’m right.”

AND, in addition to that:

“I lied before, but this time you can believe me.”

Two statements, two identical answers:

“No way.”

Joe edits a very conservative Catholic publication, so my position on things like embryonic stem cells turned him off me big time. I think preventing abortions means more to him and Pat than anything about our race.

Back when Pat Buchanan was stating on national television that the Americans at Normandy died to open Europe to third-world immigration, I was reading the Mexican Constitution and putting quotes in the Congressional record about THEY treat illegal immigrants.

I’m a little tired, too, Joe.

But we are back to the point I just made with free agent. One Joe Sobran or Pat Buchanan is more of a man than a hundred George Wills or William Buckleys, so I give them credit for what they do.

Buchanan did bring the whole issue of Jews getting us into the Middle East up. Pat wrote a book that brought the end of the white race into mainstream thinking. Pat was the highest paid editorial writer, liberal or conservative, when he switched his position on immigration. He isn’t any more, by a long shot.

They don’t speak to me, but I will never cease to be grateful to and admiring of both Pat and Joe Sobran
But the future is in the hands of those who will take over the pack leadership from Ole Bob.

The day of the conservative who happens to talk about race is over. Their job is done, but I hope they stay at it, just as I told free agent that I deeply hope that Stormfront will keep on, though its days of real basic contributions are over unless it starts some hard rethinking.

Pat and Joe made my ideas mainstream. Stormfront proved we CAN speak up if we do it right.

I thank them. I admire them.

And it is time to move on.

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Peter, I’m a big, mean wolf and while I’m glad as hell you use the Mantra, and while I respect you immensely, I’m beginning to feel a low guttural growl slowly wriggling upward thru my throat and my canines are showing a bit — about not getting any mention on these boards from Bob. I’m feeling a tad irrelevant and as you know, an alpha wolf doesn’t like to be ignored when he’s fought a battle for the pack. I post daily, perhaps not in as large a quantity as you do in one sitting, but mine is a slow and steady approach, like walking across the dessert all day rather than running for a few hours. I cover the same distance only slower and in my wake I leave carrion for the vultures. My fur is bristling and I’m beginning to circle the pack with my eyes wide open, my tail held out straight, and a howl lodged in my throat…

Comment by Mark

ME:

Mark, our pack cannot afford your eating any of other members.

You may, with my blessings, gorge yourself on dog meat.

I got a bit giddy from Peter’s mention in specific cases of battle. Please understand I have fought all my life ALONE and this is like a shot of co cocaine to have a little army out there fighting with me just the way I have fought alone all my life.

By the way, I sniffed cocaine a couple of times, but I didn’t INHALE.

Contrary to popular opinion, junkies make mistakes in their psychedelic states.

In my exhilaration I made the same mistake I was complaining about. Mark is fighting the battle on a broad front. He does not have the same battle stories Peter does because, like my best efforts, he doesn’t HEAR BACK from his hits.

But those are exactly the kind of hits that have made me a power nobody knows about. I planted ideas and only after years did I come to realize that the fact that my ideas showed up at a regular filter-down level in general conversation and the public media. Peter is giving your aging pack leader regular encouragement; Mark is fighting the long fight, the very fight I keep asking for.

So I ignored Mark.

Smart, Bob, SMART!

But I would not have realized this if that particular wolf had not snarled at me. Which brings me to a wholly different topic.

Mark said, dammit Bob, I want some attention to MY ideas, MY fight! He said it out loud.

The dogs don’t DO that. If anybody compliments our modern human doggies, said puppy is supposed to say, “Oh, I’m really nothing. I am not worthy of notice.”

I didn’t realize how SICK I am of that until I read Mark’s comment. I have a feeling that, if they think about it, a lot of commenters will feel this same rage we hardly ever think about because, it has become so much a part of our society.

When I give a person a compliment, I sort of expect them to APPRECIATE it, not to say, “Oh, you’re wrong. I’m embarrassed. Look at the pink blush on my face.”

Nobody has any trouble resenting it when I give them hell. But the fact that I give you hell SHOULD also make you understand that you don’t get an accolade from crusty Ole Bob unless I MEAN it. The last thing I want when I have the rare joy of telling someone that they did it RIGHT is for them to shrug it off.

It is RUDE to shrug off a compliment. But all the little doggies today seem to thing it’s the thing to do, it makes them look good. It never occurs to them to look at it from the OTHER person’s point of view, the point of view of the person GIVING the praise.

When did it become the height of party manners to respond to a compliment by kicking the person complimenting you in the teeth?

This is a very ORIENTAL habit. I remember a ritual exchange among Chinese businessmen in the old days in which one would compliment the other and the other one would denigrate what he had and then compliment the other, to which the other would reply by putting his own down.

One of part of the exchange had to do with asking about the other man’s wife:

“How is the flower of your Household?”

Ritual reply:

“That pig is fine.”

I must be missing a subtlety, but that does strike me as courtesy incarnate.

In ancient times, when one described a hero, one of the required compliments, right up there with courage in battle, was, “He hungered for glory.” The Chinese were referring to their wives as pigs back when a Western man could not be a hero unless he was hungry for glory.

Mark has to give up his hunger for glory as part of the battle we have to wage here. But he’s no Chinaman.

Give him some credit or he’ll bite your ass off.