Friday, February 5, 2016

Quickies: Concerning Return Of Kings And Its Attackers

     Concerning the cancellation of the Return of Kings-sponsored International Meetup event, the feminist harridans and assorted beta, gamma, delta, and epsilon males who marshaled the vicious attacks on the event probably think they won something. They did not. I regard the following snippet from this essay by Davis M. J. Aurini as expressing the heart of the matter:

     A final word for all of those who attacked us, slandered us, and threatened us; we, the men who would defend you against those who would enslave and exploit you; we who fight, not for ourselves, but for the future. We will remember who you are, and we are a larger chorus than you know.

     That ex-boyfriend who stole your heart? One of us. That charming married man at your office, with the beautiful wife? One of us. That wise mentor who helped you more than you’ll ever know? One of us. And we saw what you said about us, without even knowing who we were.

     The battle for civilization will be neither quick nor easy. We will win, but not without great struggle and many casualties amongst those who refused to pick a side. So remember something: when you or your womenfolk are being viciously assaulted and raped by third world savages whom you defended while decrying us—or by some gestapo thug, whom you empowered to oppress us, their breath rancid with garlic and rotting teeth—

     That is the future you chose by standing against men of virtue.

     Indeed. Their regrets may arrive sooner than anyone can imagine.

It was a summer evening,
Old Kaspar's work was done,
And he before his cottage door
Was sitting in the sun,
And by him sported on the green
His little grandchild Wilhelmine.

She saw her brother Peterkin
Roll something large and round
Which he beside the rivulet
In playing there had found;
He came to ask what he had found,
That was so large, and smooth, and round.

Old Kaspar took it from the boy,
Who stood expectant by;
And then the old man shook his head,
And with a natural sigh,
"'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he,
"Who fell in the great victory.

"I find them in the garden,
For there's many here about;
And often when I go to plough,
The ploughshare turns them out!
For many thousand men," said he,
"Were slain in that great victory."

"Now tell us what 'twas all about,"
Young Peterkin, he cries;
And little Wilhelmine looks up
With wonder-waiting eyes;
"Now tell us all about the war,
And what they fought each other for."

"It was the English," Kaspar cried,
"Who put the French to rout;
But what they fought each other for
I could not well make out;
But everybody said," quoth he,
"That 'twas a famous victory.

"My father lived at Blenheim then,
Yon little stream hard by;
They burnt his dwelling to the ground,
And he was forced to fly;
So with his wife and child he fled,
Nor had he where to rest his head.

"With fire and sword the country round
Was wasted far and wide,
And many a childing mother then,
And new-born baby died;
But things like that, you know, must be
At every famous victory.

"They said it was a shocking sight
After the field was won;
For many thousand bodies here
Lay rotting in the sun;
But things like that, you know, must be
After a famous victory.

"Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won,
And our good Prince Eugene."
"Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!"
Said little Wilhelmine.
"Nay ... nay ... my little girl," quoth he,
"It was a famous victory."

"And everybody praised the Duke
Who this great fight did win."
"But what good came of it at last?"
Quoth little Peterkin.
"Why, that I cannot tell," said he,
"But 'twas a famous victory."

     [Robert Southey, “The Battle of Blenheim”]

     Remember Cologne.

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