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Archive for the ‘Love’ Category

The Chateau letterbox received this heartfelt appreciation from a reader and artist named Daniele Vek.

Good morning,

I am an avid reader of your blog Goodbye America and I wanted to extend my thanks to you and your work. I am convinced that it’s impact is much broader and deeper than you can imagine. I wanted to thank you, as I knew one day I would, for a particular entry dated July 26th, 2014, titled “Crosshairs on America“. I was still a very young child during the turbulent early 90’s and witnessed the tension of the Rodney King incident and the subsequent LA riots. Though I was comfortable in my suburban bliss, as a child the horror was not lost on me.

As the years went by incidents of domestic terror and social strain heightened and one such was that of the incident at Ruby Ridge. Although I was familiar with the case and had seen the photograph before, I was not yet prepared for the emotional impact of your accompanying message and the commentary to the posting. It was so stunning that I chose the subject and your message to create a painting, my rendition to the last photograph of Mrs. Weaver. This painting is named “Maeror” roughly translated from Latin to grief or suffering. I only recently started painting, and establishing online presence, when I was approached to have Maeror published in an American art and culture circulation. Something I never, ever expected to happen. I’m still shocked and excited because I’ve only been doing this for the past few days, and may I dare say I am all Squee! on the inside. Enclosed is the image, you can also see it on my site link below. I would like to know if it is okay for me to borrow from your post’s description, in particular the line “An American Pietà” it was that specific phrase that made it click for me and got my gears going.

Thank you again, your observations as small as they may appear are huge. Here I am today beginning a career in art with meaning, with feeling, and maybe one day I will impact someone’s entire life, their future, like you just did. From the bottom of my heart and with deep gratitude thank you and continue what you do. It is imperative.

Daniele Vek
Artist

https://vekpainting.wordpress.com
https://www.facebook.com/VEKFINEART
@vekartiste

You’re very welcome, Daniele. The best ‘thank you’ a labor of love can receive is another labor of love.

The Goodbye, America post that so moved her had this commentary (plus photo):

THIS PHOTO is my contribution to the “Goodbye America” series. It’s different than the usual images of degeneracy. Instead, it is a tragic snapshot of what was good and noble.

Look at the photo. Haunting, isn’t it?

It’s a US Marshalls surveillance image of the Weaver ranch ahead of the Ruby Ridge massacre. The woman in the photo is Vicki Weaver, who would later that day be shot through the head by an Asian-American FBI sniper, while standing in a cabin door and holding her and Randy’s baby.

If I understand the timeline of events correctly, Vicki Weaver in this photo is mourning the death of her 14-year old son Sammy, killed by the feds earlier that day. If that’s the case, the photo is an American Pietà.

If I recall correctly, long-time reader PA supplied the commentary and “American Pietà” designation. And yes it is a powerful photo. So powerful, in fact, that our legacy leftoid media has seen fit to memory hole it out of ever existing, fearing as they do its use as a rallying symbol of resistance for Heritage America and their nationalist cause against the dehumanizing forces of Globohomoism. You can damn well bet that if a similar photo had existed that supported, rather than undermined, the reigning anti-White Narrative, the media would have blasted the image nonstop for days, weeks, years, hailed its symbolic awesomeness, and appropriated it for every Leftoid suicideology under the black hole sun.

Here is the painting that Daniele created to honor Vicki Weaver and the embattled culture and nation she represents that have been under attack for decades by a malevolent urban cocktail set all too eager to order their diversity shock troops to pull the trigger on White America.

Maeror

A chillingly beautiful work of art, Daniele. True beauty. Not the postmodern ugliness that inbred elitist degenerates think passes for beautiful art.

I only hope now that this post reaches out across the highways, the fields, the suburban tracts, the small towns, the gentrified hipster playgrounds, the media and technohive boardrooms, the campuses of equalism indoctrination, and the psychologically crippled churches…reaches far into their hearts and beyond to an awakening populace….and ignites something, anything, in our growing cells of dissident resistance to fight and fight with divinely inspired fury, throwing everything we’ve got, our strength and our passion, upon the evil, all-consuming globalism goliath, beating it back to its primordial hellsource and returning our people to their land, and the land to our people.

Our Maeror will become our Spero.

PS Yes, you may borrow anything from the post’s description. I won’t speak for PA, but I’m sure he would agree. We are all conduits for Truth and Beauty here at this humble chateau, and our streams of resistance merge freely into a mighty river drowning the souless insectoid bureaucrats and globalist nation wreckers.

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The leftoid legacy media (LLM) will never report fairly on Trump’s good deeds and bigly heart, so you’ll have to come here, to the Chateau, for the Authentic News.

I’ll assume everyone reading here has seen the YT video of PRESIDENT TRUMP’S live press conference, in which he perforated the usual suspects — rogue Derp Staters and the defanged and deteriorated shitlib media — with a rhetorical howitzer aimed calmly and even humorously at his targets.

As great as that Trump appearance could be fairly judged, there was an even better, and more important, video of him shot on the same day.

That appearance was Trump’s signing ceremony with WV coal miners, keeping his promise to roll back a burdensome and redundant Gay Mulatto regulation. It was an emotionally reverberating reminder of Trump’s big heart and why Heritage America loves him as their own.

Trump has a genuine and sincere common man’s touch. He may be a billionaire playboy President, but his heart is good ol’ boy and his soul salt of the earth. He’s a man’s man and a lady’s man without the hoverhand, a Vince McMahon-schooled showman and now the true leader of a revolution we may not deserve, but need more than ever. PBUT.

***

On the subject of Trump’s speaking style, as I wrote on Gab (@Heartiste):

My thoughts on Trump the extemporaneous speaker:
Not a master rhetorician.
Leaves killer points on the table too often.
Can veer off on tangents.

And none of that matters.
Why?
Because the man has balls.
BIG FUCKING BALLS THE SIZE OF BOULDERS.
That’s all it takes.
All it’s ever taken.
Balls.

And one more thing….candor. Balls & candor. The two are often seen together.

“L. C.” objects,

Your wisdom is showing! Yet, as I agree with most of what you say, I must add that Trump is a master of one-liners, a RETORTICIAN if not a rhetorician as when I heard him say “low-life leakers” I burst out with laughter and enjoy his refreshing CANDOR.

L. C. is absolutely right. My complaints about Trump’s speaking style were in fact “backhanded insults”, meaning they were really praise. Trump’s lack of polish is his great strength; he’s candid, earthy, and funny, and that resonates with Americans even if it bugs snobby, conniving Acela elites. “Retortician”. I like it.

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…is a great day!

Today is the first nationwide “Day Without Beaners” protest siesta.

In cities around America, thousands of construction companies, restaurants and other businesses are bracing for “A Day Without Immigrants,” a combination boycott/strike that highlights the contributions of immigrants to U.S. business and culture.

The movement is a response to President Trump’s immigration agenda, which includes a pledge to seal the U.S. border with Mexico and a travel ban on citizens of seven majority-Muslim countries.

I got up and stretched and went about my business and drank in the sun and realized why it was such a great day…..all-White English-speaking staff served me, competent and friendly White faces greeted me, White cashiers didn’t fumble my purchase, White construction workers joked in that familiar way that only Whites can understand, White women blessed my field of view with a pleasing aesthetic only they could provide, and even the sun seemed a little Whiter and brighter up in the White-blue sky.

Next thing you’ll tell me the wages of vast swaths of American workers will go up.

I wish every day could be a day without immigrants!

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Reader tomjones copypastas a plaintive cry for attention from a single lady on Valentine’s Day.

It’s valentines tomorrow . This is the first valentine being single so I thought I am sure there are other singles too . If anyone wants to meet for coffee and just talk about life and things message me.
Please include ur info when u messge

The above paragraph is a lady on craigslist. Discuss….

More American women than ever are single well into their 20s and 30s. V Day used to be a time for couples to rejoice in their love, but the corporate holiday has had to bend to the new reality of pump and dumps, flings, the extended cock carousel ride, delayed marriage, and late in life marriage. So V Day has morphed into a convenient, plausibly deniable excuse for these future cat ladies to crassly advertise themselves in the hope they’ll get banged out by cads or showered with sexless sympathy feelz by gullible white knight betas all too willing to drop a bennie on expensive cocktails so that they can trudge homeward with full aching balls after doing their last ditch V-date duty and cheering up a studio apartment slut who’s experiencing a bout of regret and timetable disorientation in between cock hops.

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I wasn’t sure whether to put this human interest story (h/t reader A.P.) in a “Shitlord of the Week” or “Alpha of the Week” post, so I decided to skip either option and focus on the lightly embedded moral tale of this Texas man’s life:

The jerkboy may be hated, but he is never ignored nor unloved.

After Leslie Ray Charping died at age 75, his family decided to run a brutally honest obituary eulogizing the “evil” late relative.

The family wrote that Charping “leaves behind two relieved children,” in addition to “countless other victims including an ex wife, relatives, friends, neighbors, doctors, nurses and random strangers.”

The jerkboy may come
the jerkboy may go
But the jerkboy is rarely
if ever alone.

His death came at an age that was “29 years longer than expected and much longer than he deserved,” according to the obituary on the Carnes Funeral Home site.

At least he was remembered. Many boring betas go to their graves leaving no trace of themselves in the collective consciousness.

“At a young age, Leslie quickly became a model example of bad parenting combined with mental illness and a complete commitment to drinking, drugs, womanizing and being generally offensive,” the obituary read.

I bet Leslie left behind a lot of broken hearts. Hearts which still secretly yearn for his love.

The obituary goes on to list his hobbies which included abusing his family and expediting trips to heaven for his pets. He was also interested in fishing, which “he was less skilled with than the previously mentioned.

Now that’s just bad form.

“Leslie’s life served no other obvious purpose, he did not contribute to society or serve his community and he possessed no redeeming qualities besides quick [witted] sarcasm, which was amusing during his sober days,” the obituary read.

Ah, there it is. Did you catch that? The sound of those hurt by Leslie who nevertheless, even in his “deserved” death, can’t help but fondly reminisce about his charming company. The jerkboy is like that; one moment stomping on your heart, the next lighting up your dull life. A force of personality. An anti-hero. A blast of heat in a cold world.

No services will be held for him.

He served himself in life.

“Leslie’s passing proves that evil does in fact die and hopefully marks a time of healing and safety for all,” the obituary concluded.

“Healing and safety”: the words of an alpha widow rationalizing the blessings of her post-Leslie bored, drama-free life.

To all the Leslie Ray Charpings of America: we lovers of women and grabbers of pussy celebrate your life and honor your passing in the hope that your kind will not disappear from weird, wild America at a time when we need you most.

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Commenter cortesar writes — while on the topic of globohomoist John Bercow’s slut wife and his cowardly acquiescence to their rotten marriage — of the paradoxical retreat from love underway by the very equalist leftoids who wave the banner of love aloft as their rallying cry.

There is no doubt in my my mind that if George Orwell was alive today he would have been on our side
I could not think of any quote that would come close to this one in depicting today atomized soulless globalist world by simply contrasting it to a principle that love is not opposite of hate but of indifference
The whole concept of family, community and nation has been for thousand years based on the idea that love means choice, that loves means discrimination
that loves means preference
To love means to choose and therefore there is nothing further from love than indifference

orwelllove

Cortesar, and Orwell, are right, and as usual shitlibs will have to deal with another hot flash of COGDIS when they encounter this Orwell quote that aligns more closely with Maul-Right truths than it does with their vapid #LoveWins hashtag attenuation of human nature.

Buried in the Chateau tomes of Everlasting Knowledge of the Mortal and the Transcendent is the truism that Indifference, not Hate, is the opposite of Love.

Anti-White leftists who wail and rend their H&M garments for more of the wretched refuse to teem toss’d upon America’s shores are as far removed from being champions of love as their sainted mulatto obama was from his Kenyan biological father. Indifference to whoever squats in one’s homeland is a political act of self-love; it’s certainly no love that anyone but the haughty poseur would recognize as such.

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thetingle

First, can I just say how UPLIFTING (heh) it is to look at First Lady Melania instead of Harambe Trapezius? A guy could get used to this.

Second, every man who’s lived a day in his life knows that look of a woman rocked by a silent, seismic tingle of love rushing on a current of lust. Right at the moment Herr Trumperica assumed the most powerful throne in the world, a barely-contained supernova of admiration and primal desire escaped Melania’s poise. Sex for only her man drips from her gaze in this photo.

If optics were everything in politics, Americans have the distinct pleasure of jettisoning a sooty smoggy reduced visibility for a gleaming, glorious, crystal clear vista that extends to the farthest horizon. The stars shine in all their multitude tonight.

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