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The Wrath of the Anglo-Saxon

1 November 2023

Several years ago, four to be precise, I broke my own rule about reading reviews of THE DAWN. I was living in the Rental Dump, during construction of my Dream House, and busily translating THE DAWN into L’AUBE. During my downtime, I oscillated between boredom and curiosity about my opus.

Curiosity won out.

The review itself was about five years old, posted circa 2014, and it was only by happenstance that I got to see it on the rain-forest selling platform. Any review on that site is, for me, automatically suspect, since there’s been so much dishonesty attached to the act of meeting so-called Community Standards.

This online review, furthermore, had washed ashore from the British Isles. It was a doozie in terms of attitude toward an American writer of history, most of all British History.

My fictional writing was deemed “patronizing”. My initial response to this insult was not completely emotional. I thought the Pot was calling the Kettle black.

It has not been at all pleasant for me to confront the fact that the vast majority of the English, over there, are not willing to confront the fact that they’ve dealt themselves an abominably horrific present because of their complete, wild, and willing embrace of socialism post-World War II.

The question of “how we got to here from there” is asked, if it’s asked at all, in a defensive tone.

Defensiveness is a marked sign of inner hostility, of more than a smidgeon of guilt, and of an abundance of fear. There are valid reasons for the defensiveness of the English citizen. I’ve been party to, and the subject of, that patronizing, and condescending, defensiveness from quite a few English during the past decade. A few of them I’d considered friends, until they got their backs up over the necessity to have their backs up.

It’s been a most appalling decade, from 2013 to 2023. The lying skunks known as the elected and appointed representatives of the governments of the British Isles, the EU blob, and the United States have been up to their blood-shot eyeballs in corruption, at the direct and punitive expense of the citizenry.

Young and glorious blood has been spilled by the patriots of those nations so that the greedy, grabby cowards and ghouls in power over the Citizens could continue their rip-off acts — in the Name of the People.

I’m one of The People too. And so are the Englishmen and the Englishwomen who are expected to quietly, yea, silently abide this obscene charade of a Governing Class. It’s no wonder the English speak in defensive tones. The time does come, however, when talk must lead to action.

In November 2008, during the early writing of THE DAWN, my very dear friend and proofreader said to me, “Debra, I’m taking your lead.”

Which indicated to me that I must lead!

No pressure there!

I therefore ask:

How can anyone fix a problem without admitting the problem exists? How can anyone surmount a crisis if the existence of that crisis is denied?

The problem for the English, far more than for the Scots and the Irish, is that they’ve coasted on their centuries-long civilizing image for far too long. That image has been tarnished, if not blasted away, by the murderous migrant-barbarians who were brought (at times, almost hauled) into the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

The persistently unabated migrant-invasion does not import into the Land of the Rose the type of “human resources” that had arrived there ‘round about 1066.

Those bought-and-paid for foreign-haters of the homeland come courtesy of the bought-and-paid-for Members of Parliament, who, in their own pernicious ways, also hate the homeland, but not its abundant benefits for them as sovereign leeches among the Ruling Class.

The current civilized form of government in John Bull is nothing about which to brag, and the English know it. As an American, I am, from time to time, as much as I can bear it, observant of the immigrant-invasions of my nation, perpetrated by its home-grown, bought-and-paid for traitors. The Ruling Class here is likewise nothing about which to brag, and everything about which to rebel. With fury and fortitude, We, the Patriots, are doing something about our infidels. We are mightily fighting the Rebellion Against Tyranny of the 21st Century.

I understand that the English are not inherently rebellious. I believe it to be undeniably true that the English must have their backs against the wall before they lay siege to that wall. Presently, their backs are to too many walls. The crises created by their feckless politicians keep mounting up, but they are not insurmountable.

The terrifyingly frenzied fears the British peoples had to endure during the past decade of Projects Fear have tested their mettle. If they faced those fomented phony catastrophes that never came to be, they can surmount the insurmountable.

Trying to scare the willies out of you, through governmental edicts and propagandist media, that repugnant ploy exposed the enemy within, in 2020. In the USA, we got a handle on the covid-hoax fairly fast. It was a reprehensible betrayal of the public trust by Elected, and non-Elected, Leaders, one that shan’t be forgotten. Then came the next scam, Build Back Better, which meant screw everything up; followed by Net Zero, which is a catastrophe, and that fiscal lunacy will morph into yet another grotesque, preposterous, and costly attack upon a free society, further bankrupting the future, and the present.

Believe me, and trust Harry Truman, these concocted and ballyhooed boondoggles ain’t the Marshall Plan. I simply want to know who the slick Professional Placard Printers are for these absurdities that go global and then go bust.

The horrifying images of masked-up people on the vacant streets throughout England approached the appearance of the British children in gas masks during yet another assault of the Blitz of London: that vulgar manipulation and assault upon civil liberties were, and are, scarring to one’s spirit, perhaps even to the soul.

Those most recent inner scars must be healed, not by the NHS, or by a vicar in cahoots with the Government. The Anglo-Saxons must look to their Maker in order to climb out from the intentional wreckage of their own economy, their own country, their own health and sanity. Step by step, in God’s time, any free person of sound mind, faith-filled will, and good heart can take his country back — from the elected and appointed thieves and scoundrels in the Parliament and in the shires.

I’m thinking along the lines of Mr. Kipling, English novelist, short-story writer, poet, and journalist.

According to Mr. Kipling, when the Anglo-Saxon becomes wrathful, the tide turns, and it won’t turn back. How much more bloody must the situations in England become before the Anglo-Saxons make another stab at reclaiming their beloved homeland? Brexit doesn’t seem to have done it, given the thwarting of the will of the people by its Parliament of Whores.

I am not advocating insurrection!

What is needed is bold, decisive and lawful action concerning all of the cowardice, madness, illegality, and indecency that surrounds the English. The Huns are not the ones who threaten the Sceptered Isle. The Enemy is within.

With that wretched reality, I, uncivilized American that I am, find a blessed common cause with the civilized English.

The Beginnings


By Rudyard Kipling

It was not part of their blood,

It came to them very late

With long arrears to make good,

When the English began to hate.

They were not easily moved,

They were icy-willing to wait

Till every count should be proved,

Ere the English began to hate.

Their voices were even and low,

Their eyes were level and straight.

There was neither sign nor show,

When the English began to hate.

It was not preached to the crowd,

It was not taught by the State.

No man spoke it aloud,

When the English began to hate.

It was not suddenly bred,

It will not swiftly abate,

Through the chill years ahead,

When Time shall count from the date

That the English began to hate.


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