A DISTANT THUNDER

by H. A. Covington

  “Uh, I don’t get it,” I told him.

  “Meaning that forty million human beings died because the Jews simply would not be denied their cut. You see the way the economy worked under finance capital, and the way it still works even today, is based on usury. Let’s suppose you’ve got German tractors needed in Brazil and Brazilian coffee needed in Germany. The old fashioned capitalist way of exchanging those two commodities is that the Germans go to a Jewish bank in Frankfort and borrow the money to buy the Brazilian coffee beans, at a handsome rate of interest, and the Brazilians go to another Jewish bank in Rio and borrow money to buy the German tractors, again at interest. This way the Jews get their cut on both ends of the transaction, for providing nothing that is really essential either to growing and brewing coffee or manufacturing tractors. This is how these people have gotten over for thousands of years. Like the Mafia, the Jews always find a way to wet their beak. But then under the Third Reich, a financial genius named Hjälmar Schacht figured out a breathtakingly simple way to accomplish the same transaction much more efficiently, much less expensively, and above all eliminating the banker as middleman and eliminating the undeserved accrual of interest for doing nothing. Schacht established a German trade bank that issued a kind of Monopoly money called trade credits, which could be used for German goods. When the Brazilians needed German tractors, they sent a big freighter full of Brazilian coffee to Hamburg and in exchange got X number of trade credits, which they used to purchase the tractors. The big advantage to using this kind of system was that in order to get Western goods, the developing countries could in essence use a kind of sophisticated barter of their own natural resources instead of having to come up with huge amounts of cash money which they could only raise by borrowing. If Nazi Germany had won the war and imposed their system in the place of usury, the entire International Monetary Fund would never have come into being and the international banks wouldn’t have the entire world by the throat.”

  “Uh, Mr. Morehouse, what exactly is the gold standard?” asked Adam Wingfield, who was sitting in that night, still oily from his job. “I know a lot of kosher conservative types are all starry-eyed about a metal-based money system. Didn’t National Socialist Germany do it?”

  “Good question,” said Red. We all knew he was about to go off on his favorite hobby horse again, but we didn’t mind. Red was a real teacher; he liked to talk and others liked to listen to him talk. “Let’s back up a bit. Money was first invented thousands of years ago as a substitute for barter. For millennia, money consisted only of gold, silver, and occasionally copper or bronze coinage. Why? Because these metals were rare and valued. Money only has value if everyone plays the game and believes it does, and accepts it as legal tender. Otherwise that dollar in your wallet is just a green piece of paper. Ancient Pharaohs sometimes paid the wages of the artisans who built their pyramids and temples in garlic, you know. But sometime in prehistory men decided they valued gold and silver, and so they still do. Doesn’t make much sense. Gold is so soft you can’t make tools or weapons out of it, and silver tarnishes like the devil, but that’s just one of those inscrutable givens of human civilization. Value is quantifiable in gold and silver. Now, coins are fine if you’re just buying a jug of wine or a goat or whatever, but cities and empires and economies grew, and for major financial transactions involving what we call capital sums, using a purely specie-based monetary unit can get pretty ponderous. Eventually as commerce expanded, it became too cumbersome and dangerous to go on a trading expedition lugging long mule trains loaded with gold coin, so with the establishment of the first medieval banks the paper bank draft was invented, allowing a merchant in London to travel to Paris carrying only a document instead of heavy bags of money so tempting to bandits, do his business, deposit his profits in the Paris branch of the Bardi or whoever, and then draw them out again from the London branch when he got home. This was the first paper money, and it was specific, like a cashier’s check made out to only one person. But it set the precedent of money in paper form being exchangeable for precious metals.

  “Eventually the Lombard and later Jewish banks began to issue what today we would call negotiable securities or debentures, bank drafts for X amount of money with no name on them, which could be used as legal tender to buy, sell, pay, and lend. The practice of individual banks issuing their own paper money continued up until the beginning of the twentieth century; you can see all kinds of examples in museums. In the flourishing and expanding economy of a dynamic young America private banks, states, cities, even railroads issued their own paper money. But these paper notes or bills were always gold or sometimes silver certificates. That is, if you had a ten dollar bill from the First National Bank of Philadelphia and you took it in to that bank, you had the right to get a ten dollar gold piece for it. Paper money was originally intended as a convenience, not as a substitute for precious metals. Redeemability in gold or silver had one big advantage: it kept the money supply under control and pretty much eliminated the curse of inflation and insane interest rates. When there is only so much money in existence, circulating over and over again, then wages and prices stay steady. Remember, arbitrary as it is, mankind has decided to accord gold and silver the status of having value, and you can’t start up a printing press and run off gold doubloons. If your paper money supply has to match the amount of gold and silver available to redeem it, and if accordingly the amount of paper money in circulation stays reasonably steady, then so do prices and wages. Economic stability leads to social stability and social stability usually means that ordinary people like us have decent lives. In a secure and stable society a man can plan for the future, build a home, raise a family. Almost all the inflationary spirals in the past, aside from the odd catastrophe like the Black Death which created a humongous labor shortage, have had to do with the uncontrolled issue of paper money, i.e. the Continental Congress period, Confederate money, the Weimar period in Germany, etc.”

  “I see what you mean, sir,” spoke up China, “But you say Hitler took Germany off the gold standard and Churchill and the Jews wanted them back on it?”

  “Yes, Hitler and Schacht did that because by the early part of the twentieth century all the gold was in the wrong hands. National Socialism was just as anti-capitalist as it was anti-communist. NS Germany kicked over the table and created a controlled, planned economy but without Marxist mumbo-jumbo and class murder, based on the massive productivity of the German worker, while simultaneously taking the bankers out of the loop. The Anglo-Zionist international bankers wanted Germany back on the gold standard at least temporarily, so they could control the amount of German money available and above all stop that international trade bank credit arrangement that was costing international bankers untold millions in loans and interest. Not that what was sauce for the goose was sauce for the gander. Oh no, not at all. In 1913, this country did something so stupid that it defies rational analysis even today. We handed control of our money over to the Jews in the form of a private corporation, the Federal Reserve, every head and important official of which from 1913 to this day has been Jewish. There is no such thing as U.S. currency, only Federal Reserve currency which is by law the only authorized form of legal tender. It took the Jews twenty years to take us off the gold standard and free themselves of the obligation to back up their green paper with gold or silver, but they managed it, and from 1934 onward the Jews have literally had a license to print money hand over fist. The United States still has the big gold reserves at Fort Knox, but why? What do we need it for? All that gold isn’t redeemable for anything. You can’t walk up to Fort Knox with a ten dollar Federal Reserve note and get ten dollars’ worth of gold. After 1933 it was actually made illegal by the Roosevelt régime to possess gold or silver certificates that were redeemable in precious metal, and about fifty years ago the silver was physically removed from American coins so we couldn’t even hold any in our impure Gentile hands, in the form of a dime.”

  “But what advantage do the Jews a
nd the international bankers get out of printing money like mad and creating inflation?” asked one of the kids.

  “They don’t give a damn about inflation. The men who make these decisions are always wealthy enough so it never affects them personally, and we’re just peasants whose welfare doesn’t count,” replied Red sourly. “The ultimate goal of the usury system, ladies and gents, is for Yehudi finally to get his hands on all the marbles. They plan to do this through the collection of interest. The more paper money there is in circulation, the higher interest rates are charged. Eventually a situation will be reached where ninety-nine percent of the world’s population will owe one percent of the world’s population an interest debt so colossal that it is equivalent to all the money in existence. True world domination, guys.”

  “But what do we do about it?” wailed Rooney in rage and frustration.

  “Oh, that’s easy,” replied Red with a grin. “We use another kind of economics based on a metallic substance, lead. We shoot the bastards!”

  * * *

  So we come to my first little run-in with the FBI.

  In the last couple of months of my senior year in high school, like most of my class I was just running out the clock and waiting for the hideous main event of life as we knew it to begin. Graduating classes all across the country were really depressing in those days. Every spring the media would be full of stories about seniors, white kids who committed suicide rather than be dragged into the empire’s army or shoved out into the world we had to live in.

  By that time my fate in life was pretty much decided as far as the land of the free and the home of the brave was concerned. There had never been any question of college for a trailer trash kid like me, at least not one with my grades. Oh, I suppose if I’d gotten onto the nerd track about sixth grade and brought in nothing but straight A’s from that point on, I might have qualified for some kind of scholarship to Evergreen College, or maybe even the University of Washington. ZOG could always use techies to keep their toys running. There were still a few places for white boys once all the blacks and spics and gooks and Jews and Indians and left-handed Eskimo lesbians and every other little minority under the sun had gotten their piece of the quota pie, and UW did have a small reserved quota for Washington state residents of any race.

  Yeah, I might have gotten in. Certainly I might have made something of myself under ZOG if I had established from a very young age that was what I wanted. If I had raised my voice in songs of praise to diversity and trained my lips to pucker in the presence of every black, brown, yellow, and kosher ass I came across, yeah, our lords and masters might have graciously granted me the privilege of having some kind of life serving them. Most of us who ended up in the NVA could have done that if we had wanted to. It’s the ancient decision faced by everyone raised under tyranny, and people usually make it at a very early age. Do you just submit and keep a low profile and hope the bastards will never notice that you exist? Do you join in the fun and games as an enthusiastic participant and try to work your way into the tyrant’s good graces so you can get your cut of the pie? Do you flee, which didn’t really apply in my case since there was nowhere to flee to, nowhere on earth willing to offer a home to racially aware white people? Although there is now, of course. Or did you defy and die? That last year of my high school days was also the last legal year of the Party before 10/22, the last year that the choice of at least some degree of defiance without destruction was available to us.

  Most of the non-affluent boys in my graduating class were going right into the army, and a lot of the girls as well, because it was the only job available unless you wanted to try for something at minimum wage the Mexicans hadn’t taken. I had done the pre-registration screening for the draft at age seventeen, like I was supposed to, and I expected to be classified 4-F not only because of the Bobby Fernandez incident in third grade, but also because by then the various informers and other surveillance around the school would certainly have picked up on the fact that I was politically incorrect and associating with undesirable Elvis lookalikes and white chicks in long skirts. The FBI had a file on me like it had on pretty much everybody. In fact, I had received the form letter only the day before informing me that my country would not be requiring my services as a warrior for civilization and Christendom in whatever phase the Ninth Crusade was in. If memory serves, the Americans had finally pulled out of Afghanistan after a whole generation of savage guerrilla warfare, and so that would make it the year before that they were chased out of Chechnya, so that was two hellholes I would have missed if I’d gone into the American military. But they’d just invaded somewhere else—

  Malaysia, Indonesia? Some tropical place with a lot of Muslims who killed some Israeli tourists, which of course required an immediate full court press on the part of whatever empty suit was in the White House. I can’t even remember that after all these years. No, it wasn’t Bush Four. It was one of the Clinton bitches, either the last year of that godawful hag Hillary or the first year of that brainless bimbo Chelsea. Never mind. The important thing was I was officially deemed unfit for service owing to Article Blah Blah Section Ishkabibble, i.e., I was “lacking in moral fiber.” Or was it moral character I was lacking in? I can’t remember that either, but whatever it took to be a good Crusader and slaughter Muslims, evidently I didn’t have it.

  Well, they were right. I didn’t. But slaughtering Jews? Ah, now that was another story.

  John Bell and John Hunt Wingfield apparently had the necessary moral fiber despite the fact that Adam had been booted out for fighting with his dusky fellow soldiers, which was bad, and beating them, which was worse. Rooney’s twin brothers had gone into the army a couple of years earlier when they graduated. John Bell went right into the motor pool after basic. He ended up getting sent to some base in Saudi Arabia where they quickly discovered that he was an ace HVAC mechanic. In that perpetual hundred and ten degree heat you’d better believe those officers wanted their air conditioners kept up and running, so John Bell very quickly made Spec Five and established himself as indispensable. They actually offered him double bonus to re-enlist. He pretty much had the run of the place, and so long as he kept things cool in every sense of the word he had a lot of time to play with the company’s computers. Time he used to e-mail Rooney virtually every item of military software, documentation, and technical material he could get hold of, which she passed on to Carter and Carter passed on up the line. John Bell even got caught once or twice, but he got away with it by pulling a Jethro Beaudine act. “Gaw-lee, Cap’n, ah shorely didn’t know all that stuff was classified. My sister is real interested in the military and she’s even better with motors than I am. She’s thinking about comin’ in when she grad-jee-yates and I was hopin’ to get her out here to do Gawd’s work civilizin’ these ragheads “ Oddly enough for a Christian fundamentalist teetotaler, with an eye to the main chance John Bell had also become the base bootlegger, and he was great at getting that odd case of scotch or vintage cognac for the officer’s mess. That’s two useful skills he demonstrated in a bone dry oven-like Muslim country, so useful that he was able to talk his way out of any suspicious security issues that arose. After 10/22 John B. was able to finagle his way home on leave, and then he deserted and joined the NVA. He ended up with Echo Company for a while and then with the Corvallis Flying Column.

  His brother John Hunt was more adventurous. John Hunt became a Ranger and fought in Grozny against the Chechens, and against the Taliban in the American retreat from Kandahar. When 10/22 happened he was deep in Lebanon where the United States was desperately trying in one last spasm to save Israel’s bacon. It was a while before John Hunt was able to get back to the States. When he did he deserted as well, and brought over forty men from his Ranger company to the NVA with him. He finally retired about thirty years ago as a major general in the SS.

  But the army was not a problem I had to worry about. This was good in one way and bad in another. It was good because I would not be leaving town for
three years and risking my life and limb for a government and a society and an alien race that I despised. It was bad because that meant that somehow I had to find a way to make my way in the world and get some money from somewhere. At least the military was a job, and by then jobs were almost impossible for a white boy without contacts to get. Actually, by that time ZOG was getting so desperate for cannon fodder, or bullet magnets as the expression was back then, that if I’d tried I probably could have gotten into the army. I would have had to do a lot of shuffling and tap dancing and tugging of the forelock and kissing black and brown ass, but I could have at least gotten a steady paycheck and medical benefits at one of the last places in America where a white boy could get those things. My guidance counselor told me as much. I know she had a kickback with the local army recruiter for every warm body she could conjure up for the imperial war machine, but somewhat to my own surprise I told her, “No thanks. If I do any killing it’s going to be for myself and my own people.” I’m sure that remark must have gone into my file.

  The school wasn’t completely without resources for poor white kids. There was a kind of state scholarship available to technical school if I wanted to become a computer tech or an electrician or some other kind of manual skill that the system needed to keep important machinery going, and I was going to try for one of those and hope whatever was in my political file wasn’t bad enough to debar me from that. There was also the state Workfare program that new graduates could get into. It provided minimum wage manual labor to local businesses, although you still had to compete with Mexicans and if you didn’t speak Spanish you’d have a problem because you probably couldn’t understand the foreman. Even the Zionist authorities of the time, as uncaring as they were, realized that it wasn’t a good idea to have a lot of unemployed, resentful young people of any race hanging around on street corners. They’d kept the blacks more or less quiet and non-riotous for a couple of generations by bribing them with government handouts, and I’m sure if there’d been any money left that wasn’t being pissed into the Iraqi desert, there would have been more goodies available for us honkies. Like I’ve said before, there were a few people left in the corridors of power who had sense enough to be nervous about what was happening in the Northwest.