A DISTANT THUNDER

by H. A. Covington

  Red Morehouse was something of an aficionado of Movement history, and on more than one occasion he told us about all the long, pointless, wasted years during the late twentieth century, when anyone who even so much as whispered about taking direct action against the tyranny that was wiping our race from the face of the earth was shouted down, accused of being a ZOG operative, and viciously smeared on the internet by cyber-nuts, many of whom later turned out to be government agents themselves. The Old Man himself was an outcast for years because he openly advocated that our people collectively commit an actual physical act, Northwest Migration, instead of just continuing to generate endless empty words on a computer screen. I remember a discussion we had about that in Chowder Society once, back when I was in high school. “Mr. Morehouse, I just don’t get it,” Rooney had said, shaking her head. “From what you describe it looks like we hardly did anything except spin our wheels from about 1950 until the Old Man Came Home in 2002.”

  “Actually, we didn’t do much except spin our wheels for some time after that,” responded Red with an embittered chuckle.

  “But why?” demanded Roon in angry exasperation. “What in God’s name were those people in the Movement thinking all those years while they frittered away the last chances we had to take back all of America? How did they expect to save our race and our civilization by doing nothing except mailing each other newspaper clippings and posting articles on the internet whining about how bad things were?

  What did they think was going to happen? Flying saucers were going to land on the White House lawn and overthrow ZOG?”

  “Rooney, a lot of people in our movement have given considerable thought to that very subject,” Morehouse told us. “To begin with, the disgraceful fact is that there were a number of bogus white leaders who were making a good living off selling racial snake oil and were absolutely terrified when the Old Man rocked the boat. They savaged him like junkyard dogs. But it goes a lot deeper than that, into the white American character itself. I am not sure anyone will ever be able to explain just what happened to any significant white opposition in the last half of the last century. Maybe it’s because the Aryan gene pool had been so terribly thinned and damaged by the two fratricidal wars we fought against our brothers in Europe, who the hell knows? But somewhere along the line, the white man’s spine turned into a wet noodle. We seem to have acquired the idea that fighting back against this terrible government and the evil people who run it was something that someone else was going to have to do. We just seem to have given up. Fighting back against ZOG simply became too—inconvenient, as grotesque as that sounds. Somehow we got the ludicrous notion that there can be such a thing as risk-free revolution, that justice and liberty is a free lunch. Somehow we seem to have become convinced that we could find some way of preserving the existence of our race and our civilization without causing any harm or inconvenience to the people who are killing us. The cosmic scales have to be balanced. How can there ever be justice and freedom without the punishment of those who have done evil? I don’t know. How could we possibly be so foolish as to think that there is some way to solve all this which involves no risk, not even any real inconvenience, to ourselves? We were lazy, cowardly, apathetic, pusillanimous, stupid beyond belief. It’s incomprehensible. I can only pray that we have awakened to the terrible reality of our situation in time.”

  I have mentioned before that we were stronger in soul than the Americans. This means that conversely, the Americans were weaker. As a nation, Americans had long since forgotten one of the basic rules of human history which older and more experienced peoples knew instinctively: what goes around, comes around. Bullies eventually get their comeuppance, even if only from another, tougher bully. Americans had been dishing it out for so long that they simply couldn’t take it when their turn came to be on the receiving end. Nothing in the American experience prepared people like that newshen for physical confrontation with deadly enemies who were quite capable of killing her, or readied them psychologically to be on the receiving end of violence. Resistance to violent assault was bred out of the white man, lest he rebel against his masters in Washington, D.C. When one was victimized by crime one was never, ever supposed to fight, lest one accidentally end up harming someone with a colored skin and be charged with hatecrime. One picked up the phone and called the police, and once the police were no longer able to protect themselves much less John Q. Public, John Q. was screwed and he knew it.

  Once white people gave up their guns under the Schumer Act they could only run and hide in various ways from the non-white street crime. Hell, in most states under ZOG it was actually illegal to spank your children. A whole generation of white Americans grew up never having received a physical blow in their life and usually all it took was to punch them or slap them hard and they broke down blubbering. I remember reading somewhere that when the Iraqis actually started fighting back after America invaded them to steal their oil in ‘03, the army had to ship over teams of “combat stress specialists,” psychologists and shrinks whose duty it was to “grief-counsel” U.S. soldiers who had lost people in their unit and hold their hands because those bad native chappies were shooting at them and being mean to them. They also had the job of trying to keep these mighty warriors for liberty and democracy and the American way from having nervous breakdowns and shooting themselves because they were so depressed to be stuck in the desert away from the nearest Burger Doodle. Christ, can you imagine the soldiers of General Patton or the Marines at the Frozen Chosen needing grief counselors because the big bad enemy kept shooting at them?

  The fact is that ZOG had just spent almost three generations deliberately breeding and socially engineering every last chromosome of aggressiveness, courage, and moral strength they could out of the white man so we would put up with multi-culturalism, massive Third World immigration, perversion and oppression without rebelling, and they damned near succeeded in turning an entire race into Casper Milquetoasts. When through some miracle a small band of us recovered a few hairs on our testicles and found within ourselves the guts to raise our hands against the tyrant, that worked in our favor. White Americans simply were no longer the men and women their pioneer ancestors had been. In the movies John Wayne and Rambo and other strong-jawed caricatures swaggered on for Amurrica, but out in the real world life was simply too sweet and the American people were as soft as butter. I mean, Jesus, back in ‘01 nineteen Arab kids with box cutters who crashed four planes into the ground scared the whole empire so witless they caused a depression that never really went away, by frightening the herds of consumer animals away from the shopping malls. When confronted with people who were willing to use violence if necessary in order to get our way, your average white Amurrican crumpled and bawled for his mama and begged for mercy. You can have no idea what cowards they were. When all of a sudden through some mysterious process that eagle gene suddenly re-appearsamongst a flock of chickens, the eagle rules the roost.

  * * *

  War requires not just blood but also gold to feed upon, and we needed to make sure the enemy’s supply was cut back even as we helped ourselves to his own wealth at gunpoint. I’ve already quoted Red Morehouse about the accountants and not the generals surrendering until I’m sure you’re sick of hearing it, ma’am, but I cannot emphasize enough that our main strategic goal was to hit ZOG and ZOG’s supporters where it counts, in their wallets. We needed to take money in ourselves so that we would have its power at our disposal, and we needed stop the Federal government of the United States from taking it in so as to lessen the amount of money power at their disposal. This wasn’t as hard as it sounds, in view of the way the United States was spread so thin all around the world and still trying to keep the Middle East from exploding and keep Israel on the map. I once read somewhere that even at the height of the War of Independence there were still more American troops overseas that there were soldiers, Fatties and cops in the Northwest, and the Middle Eastern oil empire consumed ten times as much in the way of mone
y and resources as did the Northwest war at its hottest. Odd as it may sound, to ZOG we were just a sideshow, like the original American War of Independence had been just a sideshow to the British whose minds were on Europe. The desperate struggle for Israel’s continued existence was where it was at for the United States government.

  Out of their pockets and into ours, that’s the way it had to go in order to make revolution. The Army Council very early on issued a decree that henceforth ZOG did not get a single penny in tax out of the Northwest. It was one of the smartest things we ever did.

  One of our major strategic priorities was that every NVA active service unit had to implement attacks on the Internal Revenue Service and their tax collection mechanism and shut it down, choke off the flow of funds to La Cesspool Grande in D.C. From the very beginning the IRS itself, its agents and offices and plant and anything to do with it was considered to be a prime target for attack. IRS agents were considered to be irredeemable, like lawyers (actually many of them were lawyers) and so they were not beaten, they were warned once to leave the Northwest and then they were shot if they stayed. The only reason they were warned even once was because there were simply too many of them for us to shoot them all, and if we shot two in a particular IRS office and then warned the other ten, at least eight of the other ten would cut out for safer pastures and we would accomplish the Party’s objective just effectively as if we had killed them. In either case, an IRS who is absent from his desk in the Pacific Northwest can hardly be collecting taxes in the Pacific Northwest, can he? It didn’t matter whether he was dead or alive, so long as he was not sitting at his desk stealing from our people.

  True, we more or less bombed and shot every Internal Revenue Service agent and employee out of the Northwest, but violence against individual tax droids was secondary. The main tax collection mechanism for the Federal government was the employee payroll withholding system, so we rousted a lot of bookkeepers. Those were simple tickles that very seldom broke bad. Rooney and I got it down to where we could do four or five of them per day. We would stroll into a plant or an office or a store, well dressed and with no weapons showing, but with backup on call if it got hot, and we would politely ask for an appointment with the person in charge of payroll from employees who thought we were looking for a job or selling something. We’d sit down and explain to the lady over a cup of coffee that we had friends of ours on their work force (which we might or might not have), in the future we were going to be glancing over the company’s pay stubs, and we were not to see one more penny taken out in Federal withholding tax, otherwise we would be forced to get very proactive. On more than one occasion I had bookkeeper ladies and dweebs in ties and short-sleeved white shirts from small businesses assure me even while they were trembling in their seats that they were secretly sympathetic to the Party and the revolution and hell, maybe they were. Within a couple months I don’t think there was a single business in Lewis County that was remitting to the IRS, nor do I believe that we ever had to use personal violence against anyone in this connection. By then our reputation was established and people knew quite well that we meant what we said, so we didn’t need to. Nor did the Feds ever do more than make harassing phone calls and send nasty letters about it to the companies concerned, because Lewis was getting a rep as the Rebel County even then, and they knew better than to bother.

  What happened the next payday, of course, was that the employees found their paychecks significantly heavier, and all of a sudden it was possible actually to support a family on minimum or minimal wage. You’d better believe that made us real popular. More than once, down through the years, I have met men and women who joined the Party during the war on an underground basis after they got their first paychecks free of withholding, not so much because of the extra money per se but because all of a sudden they realized in a tangible way what the victory of ZOG would cost them. All of a sudden our propaganda emphasis on no income tax in the future Republic meant something.

  To be sure, this is Lewis County we’re talking about here and we were small fry, economically speaking. We weren’t dealing with any really major corporations like Boeing or Anaconda Mining or Cascade Paper or Bank of America, so forth and so on. In cities like Seattle and Portland and Spokane it got hairy. The Feds were willing to overlook some little picture-framing shop in Centralia not paying its withholding for its four employees, but they couldn’t afford to let the loss of the deductions from Boeing or the Tacoma shipyards slide. They threatened the employers and the bookkeepers with everything from civil lawsuits to arrest under the Patriot Act, and they actually arrested and indicted some bookkeepers and comptrollers for show, but the simple fact is that here more than elsewhere, Federal threats had no teeth. They couldn’t shut down all employment in the Northwest, and they couldn’t protect every payroll office in every company. There were some unpleasant incidents wherein the NVA staged raids on corporate offices where the no-tax rule was not being complied with. The boys smashed computers, destroyed records, pistol-whipped some people who were a bit slow on the uptake in order to make our position absolutely clear to them, and other such boisterous behavior. Once again, word got around. Very fast. Any corporation or employer who paid withholding taxes to the IRS was collaborating with the common enemy, and collaboration was not allowed.

  As cool as the snipers were, on thinking about it I’d have to say that this was probably the single deadliest and most effective tactic we carried out against American rule during the entire war. Some historians believe it actually tipped the scale. The Feds were already starting to have rumblings from the spics in Aztlan and they were terrified that the Mexicans would start doing the same thing we were doing to their tax revenues in places like California and Texas. The fact was that other than more or less empty threats, the United States government had no counter to this tactic of ours. They couldn’t stop us, and we were bleeding them to death. At the very end of the war the Feds were looking at setting up a kind of nationwide payroll service so that the United States government became the paymaster for the whole empire. Under this plan, essentially all salaries were to be paid to the Internal Revenue Service and all employees, from the guy who flipped burgers down at the grease pit to the CEO of a multinational, were to get their paychecks from the IRS as a kind of biweekly tax refund, but the government’s number crunchers discovered that they quite simply did not have the money, the manpower, the technical expertise, the computer capability, or the infrastructure to create such a financial Frankenstein monster. I have heard several stories to the effect that this was the point where the accountants surrendered, ZOG decided to cut its losses, and the first contacts were made between Washington D.C. and our own GHQ that eventually led to the Longview conference. Once again, a small number of people with some goddamned guts had stymied the mightiest empire in the world. The army that was stronger in soul won.

  Before we get off the subject of economic warfare, I need to mention that another of the major military objectives of the NVA was to shut down the casino and legalized gambling industry. Now, I have to admit, I am one of those old dinosaurs who believe that gambling is a vice. Always did. Why, I’m not sure. I think maybe it’s because my parents were alcoholics and I just have a case of the ass for any kind of pointless and destructive addiction that destroys family life. There was a time long before I was born when everyone recognized gambling as a vice and Las Vegas was the only place it was legal, and Las Vegas was built and run by Jew mobsters like Bugsy Siegel and Moe Dalitz and Meyer Lansky. But along about the 1980s corporate America decided that gambling was too profitable to be left to mere street criminals and parasites, and needed to be brought into the big-time by corporate criminals and parasites.

  Gambling is a sickness and ZOG exploited it to the max in order to relieve poor white people of what little money they possessed. The amount of money taken in every year by legalized gambling was in the untold millions of dollars, and no one ever quite figured out exactly what became of it. There wa
s a lot of bushwah about how money from legalized gaming, as it was called, was supposed to go towards education. Well, let me tell you, I went to school in the Washington state public education system, and if they were getting any money from the casinos it sure as hell wasn’t apparent in the classroom. The fact is that legalized gambling was earning huge amounts of money for the secret state, the hidden powers that controlled things from behind the scenes, and to this day I don’t know who a lot of those powers were. Just saying it was the Jews may be technically accurate but doesn’t really cover it all. Money from gambling just disappeared into this huge black hole, sucked into oblivion like a gigantic vacuum cleaner. The NVA wanted a generous helping of that cash flow, and then we wanted that money hole plugged because someone in power was making big bucks and that was not good for the white man. Who the hell did these casino people think they were, living like leeches off human weakness and misery? Lawyers?

  One of the more ridiculous things they did was relegate a large part of the gambling industry to so-called Indians to take advantage of the legal fiction that Indian reservations weren’t part of the United States, as if ZOG would ever voluntarily relinquish the grip of its rotting hand on anything. When I was growing up, all of western Washington and indeed all of North America was covered with so-called Indian casinos run by tribes that never existed anywhere in history outside some corporate Jew’s imagination; most of the casinos were managed by some Chief Running Nose or something who was born Bernie Bernstein from Flatbush. Those goddamned things were money pits that destroyed more white lives and families than drugs and porno and miscegenation combined. My own parents used to go up to Eagle Rock every now and then and blow whatever money they weren’t spending on booze on the damned slot machines. The only “vacation” I ever remember us taking was to Lake Tahoe. I spent a couple of days when I was about seven years old playing all alone on the shore of the lake while my parents were in the casino, and on the last day I tripped on a boat dock and hit my head as I fell into the water. Some woman pulled me out. Her name was Jewel, and from what I remember of her build I suspect she was a stripper from the night club. She took me into the hotel laundromat where I stripped down to my underwear while she dried washed and dried my clothes for me, and then she bought me a cheeseburger and fries from the restaurant. When we got in the car to drive back to Washington that night because Mom and Dad had no more money and couldn’t afford the hotel room, they didn’t even notice the bump on my head.