Utilizing the Political Compass, here is a visual representation of the forces working behind the authoritarian hate machine we know and love as TRS.
It may come as a surprise, but for the most part the Inner Party gels well. Even the libertarian majority composing the group is critical of the post-Raw Paw movement’s ever-degenerating faggotry. An example: Sex and the State.
We certainly have our cleaves over political philosophy. However, everyone readily agrees that Western Liberalism is terminally-ill, soon to follow it’s forgotten God into the afterlife. The Inner Party for the most part also approves the post-postmodern spin we add to the reactionary dialogue.
Of course, with such a diverse group conflict is inevitable.
I have long been of the opinion that the basic narrative of Christianity, the cycle of paradise, fall and redemption followed by heaven on earth, contains something very basic to the Western soul. It is impossible to escape this narrative even if you consciously try. We find it reappearing in all current social and political movements. Environmentalists, Communists, Libertarians and Anarchists all promote a narrative that follows this basic structure. Indeed, it is so pervasive that if we were to encounter a movement that did not pitch this narrative we would ask ourselves what would be the point of getting involved.
Without struggle, without wanting, life is meaningless. Without the idea that we are ultimately serving a higher purpose and achieving something beyond ourselves for the sake of other people, life is empty. We become just bags of gas (penis attachment optional) that require an occasional chemical energy boost to keep functioning. Even the most vulgar of atheists needs to live for something more than just pushing organic matter through his alimentary canal.
It is a profoundly-sad reflection upon our age that Greg Karber’s actions in the video are confused with actual human kindness. All I see is a man throwing clothes at some smelly human-shaped objects for the purpose of getting the librul wimminz moist.
…What, you didn’t notice that the focus is on the clothing, and not the human beings?
I remember sitting in a little church, my little church, in the backwoods of the Cumberland Plateau. This was a simple house of worship, a relic from the reconstruction era. I remember being greatly excited when I was told this church would have indoor plumbing.
The preacher there was Brother Farley, an old man with bright eyes and calloused hands. Raised a poor sharecropper, he taught himself to read with his parents’ King James bible. When he wasn’t standing on the pulpit in his plain black suit, he was wearing overalls working the fields. His life revolved around the Earth and God; always was he deeply-attuned with what the happenings beneath and above him.
When Brother Farley spoke to you, you listened because his voice held a surprising intellect and a real human warmth.
When he spoke the word of God, you listened because you could not do otherwise.