Useless Nostalgia

Fantasies for the old days are destructive to the Hard Right.

It is difficult for men to let go of old glories.

It strikes me as inherently inapplicable and stupid to fetishize either the work of their youth or the times of old, but people nonetheless do it.

They fantasize about the bygone days; over their past glories, war experiences, or the pageantry of times long since disappeared that will never come again.

What people rarely seem to grasp about their fantasies is that no one cares.

You can admire the pageantry of the National Socialists, but you’re nothing more than a social imbecile to insist that people return to that ideology and seek to recreate it.

It had its time; and that time is over.

You can value your service in a previous generation or two; but proclamations of martial virtue and experience from a war more than fifty years past does not in any way deliver you to today’s front as anything other than a relic.

You had your time; and that time is over.

Often Boomers will declare upon their training and experience in Vietnam or the first Gulf War to oppose observation that their generation is not useful to the Hard and Dissident Right today. They proclaim they and their generation are militarily underestimated; that their expertise and combat wisdom are priceless.

Not really.

It is akin to the old man who believes he is still attractive to young and nubile females, convinced of his own charm and full of expectation that his displayed assets will entice those on the fence.

In reality he is only prey to be harvested by healthy young predators.

In times of civil unrest and certainly during non-international armed conflict, the same dissonant contrast with reality holds true of his belief in his combat readiness and experience.

This is not the same as saying their spirit is gone; it is rather an glaring indictment of their generational immaturity.

Fear of being useless in the kinetic conflict of noncooperative arenas is normal. Who wants to be too old to fight? Yet egotistical declarations that one can still hit a target at a thousand yards, or plant an improvised explosive device, do nothing to bring utility forward for those who are actively engaged in militant work today.

You’re going to go shoot someone in the head?

“I still could, Ivan!”

Are you planning on that? You’ve prepared for the reaction? You’re ready to spend the rest of your life on the run, hobbling from safe house to safe house on creaking limbs, fantasizing about secret receptions as a hero instead of banal betrayal as you’re turned over by your neighbors for arrest?

You’re going to source explosives, and set them, and you’re going to blow up law enforcement vehicles in your town?

That’s useless fantasy.

Old men who are bereft of such imaginary chest-thumping understand clearly the cruel reality of warfare:

1. They are too old for it.

2. Their combat ability isn’t valuable.

3. Their military training is outdated.

4. They are noncombatants now.

Remember that war and revolution are unromantic endeavors and fantasies of standing with belt-feds and old bronzed muscles over a Boomer cache of prepped food is exactly that: nonutilitarian fantasy.

If you would be useful for more than your assets, you must drop the idea that you are a fighting age male and develop expertise in realistic and appropriate skills.

Your ability to fire a rifle over distance is not useful right now.

If such skills are needed, they will be delivered by fighting age males and not elderly decrepits; in such situations, you are not an asset.

I certainly do not exempt myself from this recognition of reality.

Do I still have physical capacity, coherence, and competence?

Yes, of course. Ninja expertise doesn’t vanish.

Do I fantasize about employing the individual combat aspects of my competence in glorious action?

No, that would be very stupid. I’ve evolved past that.

It is why the Hagakure Kan exists under the authority of Risk Division of the Company.

I am mature, and thus I leverage individuals, organizations, and institutions with concerted and coalescent action rather than repeating generational silliness to myself.

One of our fighting age males of the Movement recently participated in a bareknuckle tournament organized by several associated active fight clubs.

His performance and prowess; the black eyes and bruises and split lips apparent in photographs sent to me from the event; all of those are wonderful, age appropriate, and I commend his enthusiasm and competence to the utmost.

I’ve zero interest in doing that myself today, because it is inappropriately nonutilitarian in the wider struggle of the Hard and Dissident Right.

It is my responsibility and duty to marshal many fighting age males under the Standard and provide the leadership, organization, and institutional identity they demand.

Those are assets I bring, not fantasies of personal combat ability.

It is my work and collaborative effort to drive the momentum and coherence of merger and acquisition activity within Project Silver Talent, so that family men have the sharp and decisive opportunity to own and operate the critical continuity industries that keep all of civilization alive.

Those are assets I bring, not dreams of planting explosives and running away.

It is my vision and sacred purpose to shoulder and bear duty of the State, and with me march the Company and Executive Cadre and the Movement under aegis of the Standard; for a future that is new and authentic and original rather than a nostalgic attempt to imitate what was, and what is now dead.

This is why we speak of “exorcism of dead loyalties to rotted States” in our militant education programs.

You really do need to let go of ego and turn that on yourself as well.

You are only an asset in war and nothing else.

There is an extraordinarily harsh truth that those of the Boomer generation who are on the Hard and Dissident Right must understand without fail:

Distribute your financial assets to benefit those who fight.

It is really the only utilitarian asset value you now possess.

And thus commence the howls of the Boomer generation, who have lived as locusts their entire existence, who refuse with bitter and selfish parsimony to actively distribute their wealth and assets to the coming generation.

“Ivan, that’s my money!”

Do you want clear conscience?

Is your posture mere false display?

Are you a fool who believes he has not grown old?

You will hand over your assets to the future intact or you are a traitor to your people.

There is a reason for the very first value of the Company:

Fuck you, pay me.

It is contemptible to be an old man who fantasizes that he can hold off battalions of Viet Cong with rippling fire; who mistakes four decades of generational self-absorption for cogent objective observation.

The selfish claws of the Boomers must be pried from their assets, and those assets must be released to the workstream and asset flow of the Hard and Dissident Right in this dreadful Age of Militants.

You see, it doesn’t really matter if they agree or not.

It doesn’t even matter if they want to fight for it or not.

They are old, and have shamefully earned the contempt of the younger generations.

They will die soon, and their assets will be redistributed while they are forgotten.

Now, cries that “not all Boomers are like this” will inevitably ensue. And that’s quite true; there are those who put the welfare of their grandchildren over their next cruise, who invest in the war capacity of their descendants instead of their own aged indulgences.

Those who are outside this bell curve pay close attention to this reality:

Fuck you, pay me.

And that is what they do, these men who live in reality and not in fantasy, who understand that yes, they have grown old and they +bear duty to pass on their assets.

They adhere to this reality:

Fuck you, pay me.

They are determined to be of value, and they know their value lies only in the financial wealth they distribute directly to the hands of those who come after them.

They earn clear conscience before death with this reality:

Fuck you, pay me.

They don’t argue with truth about their generation’s selfish focus. They know that the Boomer generation is universally loathed for the devastation it caused.

They acknowledge that truth, and they divest themselves of both ego and assets to those who follow:

Fuck you, pay me.

That is it.

That is your value, Boomer.

It is not your experience, not your combat skill, not your past glory, not your fantasies or imaginations or the near-Gamma self-adulation so typical of your generation.

It is your assets, and we are coming for them.

We outnumber you more every day, because you are old and vanishing from the stage.

If you would be remembered in our cups, do the right thing at last:

Fuck you, pay me.

War is harsh and civil war is worse.

Your failure to recognize the reality of your age and irrelevance, your responsibility for the destruction you spread, and your accountability for correction, will not be erased through divestiture of your assets to the Hard and Dissident Right.

But you will be remembered for your repentance.

And that is more remembrance than you currently deserve.

Fuck you, pay me.

Take this to heart!

Cease your useless fantasies and delusion bubbles of importance!

Your time is over, and we on the Hard and Dissident Right are engaged in cleaning the strewn and slathered feces that represent your generation’s excesses.

Take responsibility and accountability.

And do something about it.

Fuck you, pay me.

That’s it.

That’s the post.

Grand rising!