Saturday, September 16, 2017




How They Shut Down Populist Latvijans
By © E. Antons Benjamiņš, 2017

A countryside Populist is employed by Nature all day long; an urban Populist chokes and enslaves Nature until it dies.

The Anihilation of A Populist Caballa*
*As in ‘...we received (learned of) ourselves as a company.
(Part 2)

It is nine kilometers from my house to the nearest village grocery store. There live along this stretch of the road approximately twenty people; there used to live several hundred. The road used to have a wood on both sides of it, now there are open fields where wheat and other grains are raised. No one in the village recalls the saying: “If on the road you meet a wolf, cross to the other side.” The implication: the wolf will then not trouble you.

A few years ago, when I happened to visit the local mayor’s office, he proudly showed me a photograph with four dead wolves. With a proud tone in his voice, he told me these had been shot in a nearby wood. Clearly, the mayor knew nothing about the history of the village he was ‘governor’ of. While a ‘good’ man, intellectually the mayor was as uneducated about the ways of Nature as any visitor from the city.

Another neighbor told me that in the Soviet days, the local hunters had no trouble shooting their quota of 23 elk every hunting season, while by my day the poachers had left only a few. These occasionally surprise one by running across the road in front of one’s car. I discovered the jawbones of one such elk in the ruins of an abandoned old mill when I went to check whence the smell of carion. It turned out to be a dead dog buried in a pile of rubbish that was being dumped into the gutted innards of the old building through window frames that had fallen out a long time ago. A hundred feet further a two hundred year old apple tree still struggled to survive, its lower branches pulled down by the weight of winter snow and peeling bark off its trunk. My resources allowed me to do no more than relieve the tree of undue stress and saw off the branches. An old inn, its roof still intact when I arrived in the area (twenty years ago), is now but a pile of bricks. Yet another neighbor told me that in her youth the laborers of nearby kolkhozes had held parties there.

So, ruin is all that is left of the peasant Populist dreamland in Latvija. In fact, today there is neither Latvija or dream. The descendants of once real-time Latvian Populists (and Herrnhuters) are today’s hunters, poachers, perpetually drunk former peasants and wood cutters of last resort, a small army of whores jerking off men all over the world, and mindless government officials—all taught in government run schools. Not that these unfortunates remember or any one urges them to remember their past. Their government has persuded them that the main directives come not from a Sacred King who resides in Jerusalem, but from Brussels. It is not that the unfortunates have become what they are willingly. They are what the descendants of the elitists of the Age of Enlightenment have made them: they are unemployed Populists in an utterly inconsequential reality.

If the Livonian Populists of three hundred years ago were petrified of the armed men they had somehow survived, and feared them as harbingers of the future, and believed it wise to hide from them in the woods and swamps, today’s Latvian Populists of the city do as Populists do in the cities the world over: they take ‘ecstasy’ tablets, have sex on the spot, steal, smash store windows, and kill at random though not necessarily in that order. Witless Latvijan city based government officials name these subjects ‘lawless forces of chaos’, and pompously strut the police and laws so as to intimidate, even as they dare prepare for their own glory a 100th Anniversary celebration (in 2018) of the Republic of Latvija in barely disguised ignorance of their Peoples history.

If we look at the evidence that comes by way of written records, albeit already compromised by the story, we can see the manipulations of the googlers of Early Middle Ages clearly enough. I have already observed how early editors may have juxtaposed consonants (so-called Grimm’s law) L with R, B with V, J with G, etc. and in the process changed languages, meanings of words and events. Other contrarians have noted that epic stories, too, may describe events other than the ones named. For example, Homer’s epics “The Illiad*” and “Odyssey” may not be describing the aftermath of the rape of King Menaleus’s wife Helen by Paris. Instead, it may be telling the story of infighting among the Vikings at the time they began to make their violent forays from the Baltic Sea down the Dniepr River. Since an arrow makes Achiles a clubfoot, he may have been a Russian (see footnote above on the epistemology of the word ‘krīvs’ and how it relates to the word ‘clubfoot’). It was such forays against the peaceful innocent which shattered the tranquility of the wooded lands of Ukraine, rather than the lust of a punk prince named Paris.

*This link (The Iliad) is lengthy and full of the presumptions of the academics of our times. Even so, I prefer to link to it than the short links that cannot say their say without being facetitious,

Another topic that is neglected in our days is that of “The Golden Age”. Though the topic of a past golden age had its place in the pastoral literature of Populist England (before the extermination of the Ludites) and Longfellow’s America (as late as Robert Frost’sBirches”), the age and urban haiku has replaced it as irrelevant. This is not surprising, as most college students in America know only virtual reality and deem their forebears’s life-style to have been that of stuffed turkeys in the Dark Ages.

Will the Populists, the People, the Ludies, the Narod of the wood never awaken again? Or will they, storm trooped by elites in flight of the horrors they’ve sown, return in the wake of their ebb and give birth to a child on the road?


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