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All Hallows III |
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The Novel |
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Warlock Well before the 2028 presidential election, Garrett Valdison read Roswell Benedict’s
plan for worldwide Libertarian Nationalism and has been delighted by the number of policies that have been implemented, and
how splendidly they work. Later, he was deeply moved by Benedict’s address to the United Nations
in 2034. At that point he knew that good people have defeated the Globalists. January 18, 2035 Lately Garrett has been thinking that there remains too much carryover from
unworkable policies in the past. These things always develop a life of their own, and don’t simply disappear because
better policies are put in place. Fortunately, he has an idea about how to eliminate this situation. He expresses the idea
in an essay. Over many years Garrett has created a long list of revolutionary Libertarians.
He knew he would eventually find a use for it. A mass mailing of the essay will provide the finishing touches needed to the
official political and economic policies. The letter reads thusly: Attention Libertarian Warriors Many of you know me, but pursuant to the advantages of anonymous individual resistance I shall keep my privacy. The President’s State of the World Address to the United Nations General Assembly in 2034 has been a source of
great inspiration to many of us, but there remain hordes of loud quarrelsome dirty-mouth savages almost everywhere. This hellish
element reproduces at a very high rate, and offers no constructive example for their offspring, only increasing the foulness
of daily life for everyone else. Crime rates are starting to go down somewhat because Benedict’s new policies offer much better options, but among
established criminals, old habits die hard. There are still plenty of rapists, kidnappers, traffickers, child molesters, snuff porn video makers, and random murderers.
Those convicted of these crimes in the past should have been executed, but instead served only short prison terms and are
currently at large everywhere. There is no reason to believe that these people are not responsible for much of the ongoing
crime in each category. Ex post facto legislation
is out of the question, but the fact that there was a long period of policy mistakes by government in not executing these
people, does not mean that the results cannot today be reversed by vigilant patriots in the private sector. I have an idea about how militant revolution can interact with the macabre inspiration and cool weather
friskiness of the Halloween Season. I propose that on the eve of October 31, 2036, a period of killing begin that will not cease until we have
purged civilization of all our enemies. This includes racial outlanders previously forced into civilized countries by the
United Nations and the European Union. Having the date so far ahead gives us time to research who lives in our midst, and precisely where.
It also allows time for the acquisition of proper costume, weapons, suppressors, and ammunition. Halloween Night One simple method is to use a small pinch bar on a back door, enter briskly, kill the target and anyone
who threatens the success at hand, then leave by any door convenient. Some places, Hell Night, on October 30, has mischievous young thugs out vandalizing at random. For us,
this would make a fine night of hunting, especially in categories we need to be rid of from an evolutionary standpoint. The
problem is that it would increase police presence on true Halloween. Better to wait one day and deal strategically with adult
criminals. It’s an ongoing process to cull sub-humanity in general. We will be rid of them all in the end. Always use poison bullets, darts, or arrows. Notice the flow of pedestrian traffic, areas of shadow
where accumulating bodies will not be seen until the last minute. Long distance shooters should plan in advance the best path
of escape from point of ambush. Those entering residences may want to carry extra disguises and provision for cleanup in the
event of spurting blood. Be creative. Utilize all common-sense options of every kind. Never tell anyone, no matter how close,
about anything that you do, before or after. Evolutionary destiny is more important than validation by consensus. Thank you all for being Libertarians, and for reading this. Good hunting. All Hallows Eve 2036 and 2037 had great utility thanks to the efforts of warriors
everywhere united in spirit. Now it is All Hallows 2038. Just as he did last year, early in the day, Garrett performs a ritual
inspiration… Solar
Noon Garrett performs the traditional warrior’s: Ritual für den Tod After tracing the Circle of White Flame to the Four Quarters, and other standard
procedures, Garrett reads aloud Portent of Victory “We shall ride triumphantly through the streets in bright armor, upon white horses, the corpses of these impotent weakling slaves of darkness lining the walkways at each side, their blood running out and filling the gutters at our feet! Then shall begin their conversion into ash for our fields, and the recasting by fire of their holy chalices and idols, of gold under Sun, of silver under Moon, from icons of shame and meekness into gleaming images of Truth. And we shall fashion their holy places into strongholds of voluptuousness, their skulls will adorn the rafters and gaze down upon us as we enjoy our naked women upon their holy altars.” Then the Statement of Purpose: “I, Ne~, in the Great Name of
Yggdrasil, do inspire all Libertarian Warriors
abroad on this night in their heroic task of purging the Earth of evildoers.” Then after more ritual procedure: "In Furtherance of the New Aeon. Love is the Law, Love Under Will. Hail unto the Aesir and Vanir! Hail unto the Alfar! Hail Yggdrasil !"
* * * Arkansas Since the 1990s there have been, among other things, two opposing factions at the University of Arkansas, one centering around the more or less Darwinist Libertarian views of one of the professors, and one based on the Chinese Communist connection of a former student, and master rhetorician, who went on to high public office in Washington D.C. A young Libertarian warrior, now a senior at the university has been particularly
annoyed by a small clique of fourteen students who run the full gamut of far left depravity. The things they stand for are
so destructive to individual liberty and evolutionary destiny itself that it seems inconceivable that anyone could hold such
values, let alone take themselves seriously in giving public utterance to them. The fourteen have invited thirty-six other leftists to a party on Halloween
night at a small house rented by one of them on a per semester basis. Our young warrior has a foolproof idea about what to do,
so he gets hold of the guest list to be sure there aren’t any good people planning to attend the party. Verification
of all this takes him a full six days. October 31, 2038 7:34 P.M. All the guests have arrived and the party is well under way. Hoping to gain admission,
the young warrior comes to the door dressed as a knight with broadsword, poisoned dagger, and under his cloak, a cellphone
scrambler. The doorman however, has the guest list in hand, is very meticulous, and refuses admission. The young warrior shrugs sadly and
says, “Man, I brought five one pound packages of chocolate candy corns as a
party gift. Can’t I bribe my way in?” The doorman smiles sympathetically, but is steadfast. The young warrior reaches
into the candy bag, removes one package, and says, “Ok. I’m going to nab one of these for myself, but I don’t
need a lifetime supply, so I’m giving you the rest anyway. Enjoy.” The doorman says, “Thanks, and I’m sorry. Just following orders.” The warrior smirks and says as he leaves, “Yah, that’s what they all say.” The warrior anticipated refusal, and thought to leave the cellphone scrambler
close to the building, but cannot do this without being seen by the doorman. Now he walks to a place where he has a command
of the house dooryard without the doorman being able to see him and sits down on a stone wall to wait. He suspects that the
scrambler will probably not work at this distance. Inside the house all is festive. The candy corns are happily received. The
host opens one of the bags and dumps it into a bowl, which he places on the table with the cider punch and other snack foods.
Time passes. The poison in the candy corns is very deadly. Although painless, just one corn
will kill an entire heard of elephants, but it’s so slow acting, that by the time the first guest drops to the floor,
twenty-eight of the guests have already eaten at least one. In fact, the host had to open a second bag over five minutes ago,
wondering why he didn’t think to buy any of these himself. A second guest drops, then a third. An ambulance is already on the way for
the first casualty, even though it’s quite clear that he’s already dead. With two more down, one the guests knows
that more than coincidence is afoot here, and so calls the police. Outside, the warrior is at the ready as the first of the panic stricken guests
exit the house. After practicing all week, he is hoping to slay a few of them with his sword, but just as he begins to advance,
he hears the first of the sirens. He’s not that disappointed, however, because he expected this would probably happen
without cellphone blocking. Thirty-four of the guests die. Not a bad night’s work in the service
of a brighter future. On this night, two hundred-forty-three other enemies of mankind die in the state of Arkansas. Michigan In Grand Rapids, the autumn leaves have been very beautiful this year. This, however, doesn’t
offset the ugly presence caused by all the resettled “refugees” from Africa. Whatever the subverted media claimed initially about African adjustment in America may or may not have
been true. There is never any way to know with chronic liars. In any case, the behavior of the immigrants and especially their
progeny, over the past ten years, has been unforgivable: compulsive loudness, foul language, burglary, robbery, rape and endless
violent attacks on those of European heritage. October 18, 2038 A group of local patriots start work on a very unusual plan to deal with their problem. Using vans and
SUVs they begin a roundup of the entire local African populace. The outlanders are usually grabbed one or two at a time, but
sometimes in groups. They are all taken to a holding barn, fed, and guarded carefully. After a few days of this, it is apparent to many in the community that something strange is going on,
but many of the better police officers are in on it, and some of the media, so with a little fancy footwork, the project continues. October 31, 2038 2:20 P.M. What a splendid harvest! There is an amazing four-hundred-eighty-seven Africans in the barn. Farmer John has his work cut out for him in cleaning up after this nasty business. Now comes overland transport to the gigantic barge on the lake. This event seems biblical in its solemn
drama and significance. With a little help from strong silent men with cattle prods, the Africans file into four big transport
trucks. It’s a beautiful cool evening. After a pleasant ninety minute drive, the caravan arrives on the
lakeshore at the private mooring of the barge. Once again, the Africans are assisted in the proper mode of conduct, down a
ramp, into the vessel of their destiny. The steel Leviathan is towed by two young couples in powerful speedboats five miles out into the lake.
Now the plugs are pulled, and the barge begins to sink. There is, of course, a great deal of anguish and swearing aboard the barge, but back on the lakeshore, and in Grand Rapids, the festive spirit of Halloween is very strong tonight. In addition to the lake numbers herein claimed, there are another three-hundred-twelve deaths of various
criminal elements in Michigan on this splendid evening of cultural self-defense. Florida There’s a middle-aged couple of European heritage living at the edge of the Everglades. They have a pet alligator trained to do almost anything ending with a final reward of food. Usually the food is human. In this instance, we might say that the alligator is attack-trained with culinary privilege. Lately in Palm Beach there has arisen a large number of loud Negro golfers who spoil the game for everybody
of traditional human sensibility. On their buggies, they carry giant boom boxes, blasting everybody in a half-mile radius
with angry morally retarded music. The Negroes think of this as some kind of “wakeup call” directed at “racism.”
It never occurs to them that escalating bad conduct never helps anything. The other golfers are getting very tired of all
this baiting. This, after all, is Palm Beach, not Johannesburg. Today in Florida, alligators are allowed to roam on golf courses adjacent to bodies of water. It makes
the game a good deal more interesting, and often a bit challenging. This gives the couple an idea, so they decide to take
up golf. October 31, 2038 9:42 A.M. The couple is playing eighteen holes today. Their pet alligator looks like the others and is about eighty
feet away, relaxing in the sun. Just behind the husband and wife, a bunch of young Negro trouble makers are playing today
with their boombox blasting the usual, “Muthafucka, Muthafucka, know what I’m sayin?” The first of the Negroes is about to putt. He’s twenty feet from the hole. The pet alligator,
about forty feet behind him, suddenly perks up, sprints silently to the golfer, grabs his leg, and rolls over, ripping the
leg out of the socket. Now his teeth make the final incisions. The leg is off. He takes it like a big turkey drumstick, runs
to the water, and disappears. The other Negros are aghast by what they have just seen. They run to the one-legged fellow, but he’s dead already either from spinal trauma or blood loss, probably both. In all the commotion, nobody even noticed the husband aiming that special multi-tonal sonic device he and his wife used to train the alligator. 7:32 P.M. Some local kids have dressed up like Negros and alligators, and are acting out the golf course event
as part of the evening festivities. Tonight four-hundred-eighty-three additional criminals and unwanted outlanders die in
the state of Florida. Texas In the Lone Star State, there have been two instances of resettlement of people from counties where
human cannibalism is still practiced on a regular basis. In some of these areas human food is called long pig. On another social wavelength, a group of eighty-four Communists of all ages are planning a special privately
catered meal of barbequed pork for Halloween night. These unrelated facts have given two young men and their girlfriends a strange and interesting idea
about how they can celebrate the approaching holiday. It will, however, involve a good deal of risk in the preparation. October 30, 2038 In pickup trucks, the two young couples go to opposite ends of a Congolese settlement they call Cannibal
City. They sit and wait. First, the north couple spots two middle-aged women walking, drive fast, and run them down. The young
man jumps out and shoots them both in the head to be sure, then drags the bodies to the truck, putting them on a sheet of
plastic. Meanwhile the other couple have done the same thing with two teenage boys at the south end of the settlement.
Four should be enough. The two couples meet at the small ranch owned by one of them, remove the bodies, get them into the barn,
remove and hose down the plastic, then check the front of each truck. A little hosing there also does the trick. In the barn they eviscerate and butcher the four cannibals. Then they cut them into bite size morsels
and mix them in the pot with barbeque sauce. After one hour of simmering they add celery, carrots, potatoes, and plenty of
flavorless rat poison for good measure. October 31, 2038 4:36 P.M. Dinner is at 6:00, but some of the barbeque quests are showing up early. Across town, the young couples,
wearing masks, arrive at the caterer’s just in time. He has loaded the van and is locking the door. At gunpoint, the
couple escort him back inside, relieve him of his uniform, then bind and gag him. They grab the kettles of pork for themselves
and put the human barbeque pots in the caterer’s truck. One of the young men puts on the uniform, and drives the truck to the barbeque site. He puts on a Frankenstein
mask, gets out of the truck, opens the rear doors, and says, “Come and get it!” A couple comes with a caddy. The man says, “Smells good. I paid your boss yesterday,” “A / Okay. Please enjoy.” Besides the Communists, 483 other servants of Globalist oppression die in Texas tonight. Iowa Oct 16, 2038 Route 80 West A chap driving to California stops at a diner and orders what he believes to be the best pork chop he
has ever eaten. Why so good? Probably that corn fed principle that he applied to
that beautiful newly arrived nurse from Iowa that he dated in Boston twenty years ago. During that same period, a large settlement of Islamists was thrust upon the resident community of this
area. Since then, about twice each year one young indigenous girl has gone missing, so far: eight Native American, the rest
of European ancestry, mostly German. Even when girls this age don’t go to college, they often move to the city to meet young men, but
they always keep in touch, at least with their patents. None of these girls have ever been heard from again. Considering that
most of the Islamists live on welfare and have no livestock, why is it that they buy so much quicklime at local hardware stores? A group of local farmers decide that it’s about time to get these Middle Eastern fellows working on the land, so they let it be known round about that all able bodied Islamists from the settlement will be paid a very handsome wage to help with the cleanup of cornfields in the wake of the recent harvest. October 31, 2038 Islamists don’t celebrate Halloween, and think nothing of trying out this too-good-to-be-true
job offer on this day. Forty-two men from the settlement show up at the designated spot and are transported by truck to a
location in the middle of a vast cornfield. Corn stocks are usually gathered up for silage. They are almost never tilled back into the soil as green
fertilizer because of parasites. On this particular farm, however, they are, but
after a spraying that kills the parasites. The workers are warned that the spray will dissolve their skin and to avoid the
spraying machines. The trucks drop off the workers and leave. The men look confused, because nobody has told them what
to do. In the distance in every direction there are men on machines harrowing plant material into the land just behind the
spraying machines. Now the harrowers all turn toward the workers, and with a spaying machine between each, begin to slowly
converge on the solitary group of Islamists. The farmers wave to the workers as though to suggest that they are coming to
pick them up, but that cones later. As they come closer and closer, some of the men, perhaps guilt-ridden or just imaginative, begin to
grow fearful. As the circle of deadly machinery tightens around them, one man panics, and tries to break through. The spray
operator to his left directs a powerful nozzle directly at him and he is deflected to the right, and falls under the blades
of the adjacent harrow machine. The other workers are appalled to see that the blades instantly cut the poor fellow into eight
bloody ribbons. Another worker runs fast and tries to unseat a harrow driver, thinking to escape in the direction of
the departed trucks. The farmer has a sawed off twelve gauge that stops this nonsense very quickly. Now two workers together try to break the circle, are hosed to the ground, and with a quick swerve are
harrowed into the land. It takes sixteen minutes to dispatch the remaining workers, and many an impassioned cry to Allah is
heard before the job is done. The trucks come back, It takes thirty-two minutes to pick up the dead workers and transport them to
a place where they will surrender to the embrace of quicklime. On the night of this splendid day another two-hundred-eighty-three enemies of America meet their demise. Wisconsin October 31, 2038 Today there is a small private cheese festival intended originally for indigenous residents of the area.
A bunch of breed-up-quick airheads at the university, however, decided it would be “divisive” not to invite all
the predatory Somalis from the nearby settlement to attend. The students harassed town officials relentlessly until they finally
gave in and spoke to the festival officials. 8:20 A.M. At the north end of the festival location, two young Libertarian warriors, also students at the university,
finish unloading eight large barrels of saltine crackers from a delivery truck. Using a dolly, an on-site worker moves the
crackers to the nearby kitchen tent. Eight assorted wheels of gourmet cheese arrived earlier. Knowing that the official for whom a small private tent has been erected behind the kitchen, will not
be attending today, the two young warriors conceive a splendid possibility, but it won’t be easy. They leave and procure two hammers, a box of ten penny nails, plus an electric drill with a one inch bit. It takes a while, but they get hold of some thin rubber gloves, two bottles of chloroform, and bunch of clean rags. Meanwhile, the festival begins. After about forty minutes, twenty four Somalis, mostly men, arrive in
a bus from the settlement. Their behavior, as usual, is loud and exhibitionistic. They enjoy the cheese and crackers, hotdogs,
hamburgers, and more way than their fair share of beer. As the afternoon wears on they become very drunk. When the men are
not pestering indigenous women, they frequently visit the permanent steel restroom facility, adjacent to the small private
tent. About 4:00 P.M. it begins to snow very lightly. The young warriors feel refreshed and come back to get
the empty barrels. They park the truck at a distance. Wearing street clothes and Halloween masks they begin their plan. When
no one is looking, they put the eight barrels in the small private tent. During the next thirty-five minutes, one at a time, they chloroform eight urinating Somalis, drag them
to the tent, bind, gag, and put them into the barrels, which are easy to secure with just one nail that blocks the turn latch.
With eight Somalis securely barreled, they drill two one inch holes in the top of each barrel. Now they go back to the truck, lose the masks, change into their regular uniforms, drive up close, and
load the barrels into the truck. The drive to Lake Michigan takes twenty-five minutes. They go to a sheltered cove and, one by one, roll
the barrels out, and off a high escarpment into the water. Says one, “Har, they be going to Davy Junes Locker now. A fine days’ work if I say so me-self.” “Aye!” replies the other with a grin. During the remainder of this night, another three-hundred-fifty-seven enemies of evolutionary destiny, depart the Earth for places unknown. The next day, the two young warriors file an invoice with their boss stating that the empty barrels were not on property when they went to get them, and that everyone they asked had been drinking and didn’t recall a thing.
California Near the ocean, there is a large settlement of Guatemalan lay-abouts, who for the past twelve years,
have made life very unpleasant for all the “gringos” at the local beaches. Since their arrival, rapes of local
women have increased by over three-hundred percent. Three years ago, a middle-aged biologist and shark expert of Russian heritage, invented a method of
drawing great white sharks to a specific point in the ocean, with sound frequencies undetectable to humans. Also, using simple
Pavlovian techniques, he devised a way of training these big fellows to attack people of specific ancestry, based upon general
body chemistry, as this would be diffused into water while swimming. More significantly, just two months ago, he perfected a way of encoding this culinary preference training
into sound patterns, so as to invite the great whites to dinner, and specify the
menu simultaneously, using the same device. The benefits in reducing human obesity that could come from this research would
be staggering, and they will come, but later. In the short term, the marine biologist hopes to gain a little personal satisfaction, since his teenage
daughter was one of the “gringas” comprising the rape statistic. Three men from the settlement beat and tortured
her. She has never been the same since, and will never be again. There was no way to prove it. You can’t, after all,
ask a large number of men to submit to DNA / semen tests without “probable cause.” October 31, 2038 9:40 A.M. Today the settlement is having a party at a nearby beach. The depth increases very gradually here, and
forty-eight swimmers are already splashing and frolicking a long way from shore. They’re planning to have lunch at noon,
but at this moment there are eight great white sharks converging on the gathering who have not yet had their breakfast. The
marine biologist is sitting in a very comfortable chair in his own striped canvas cabana a hundred feet from the water. The
door flap is open, and affords a fine view of the swimmers. The sharks are not seen at first by the partygoers. First one man is pulled under, then a teenage boy,
then the screaming starts. Natural supply and demand has it that these fellows kill a big supply of food, then eat it at their leisure.
The crowd is scrambling for shore. Most are poor swimmers, so they run. The sharks move like precision machines, chomping one after another of the screaming partygoers. All
forty eight are dead within two minutes, Now the feasting begins, as police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks arrive. Early evening newspaper headlines include, Sharks Attack Settlement Beach Goers Terrible Tragedy at Local Beach Party Great Whites Chow Down at Mestizo Bash During the remainder of this pleasant, cool night, six-hundred-thirty-two other spoilers of American
life, get their just recompense all across the great state of California. Minnesota It’s always cold here in the Fall, but more so since the raping Islamic “refugees”
were brought in a few years ago by the Globalist traitors. They refs like to burn cars too. It drives down the rent. There’s
a well-meaning, but foolish, local woman who believes all they need is patience and kindness. She wants to expand their social horizons, and so decides to teach interested parties from the settlement
how to ice-skate on the nearby river. An item in the newspaper about her plan is read by three young warriors of Swedish ancestry,
who are sickened by what Islamists have done to Sweden. It gives them a very constructive
idea. October 30, 2038 6:03 A.M. The three fellows go skating early today and stop at an area of one foot thick ice adjacent to the location
for tomorrow’s gathering. They’re wearing face mittens, and have a saw with an electrically heated blade specially
made for cutting ice. Two days ago they experimented with a three foot hole using mineral oil to keep the plug from refreezing
overnight to the main mass of ice. It worked perfectly and was not at all noticeable. Today one of them cuts a perfect circle thirty feet in diameter, using two gallons of mineral oil to
insure freeze proof edges. The other two chaps play hockey around him, so nobody really notices. October 31, 2038 9:42 A.M. Twenty eight Islamic men and four women are lacing up rented ice-skates. Now they go onto the ice, most
looking very wobbly, like newly hatched ducklings. The kindhearted instructor shepherds her class into a tight group about
thirty feet from the river bank. Now she has them watch while she demonstrates the basics: how to push forward, turn, pirouette,
and stop. Watching her, the fledgling skaters try each step as she repeats them. She encourages them to proceed
carefully and most of do not fall down. After a while, they are skating around in small circles together. The three warriors
have been watching at a distance. Now they play hockey again, and quickly move into close proximity with the Islamists. They begin to
treat the new skaters like pucks, whacking at their skates with their hockey sticks, and shouting out cattle driver commands,
while marshalling them into the near end of the thirty foot circle. Just as the last of them are driven onto the slab, the hoped for reaction occurs. The slab dips down
at a sufficient angle for all the skaters to slide smoothly into the water. Then the slab bobs back up into position. Except
for a wet portion of the circle, it’s has though the skaters had never been there at all. The poor instructor looks aghast, screaming, “My God, what have you done?” One of the chaps replies, “River Security, Mam. Just keeping America safe for Americans.” The mild current bears the bodies down river three-hundred feet to a small cove where they remain. The
ice is perfectly clear and the Islamists are now seen to be looking straight up with their hands pressed against the ice like
a window they were trying to open. This proves to be a very eerie sight for the police and news people, but is truly perfect
for Halloween. Later this night three-hundred-twenty-seven more enemies of America meet an untimely demise in the cold northern state of Minnesota. Oregon They don’t own up publicly to the illegal things they promote, but enough of them have been found
out, to make the ideology of their actions outweigh that of their rhetoric. A young warrior who attends classes with many of the members, reads a note in the school paper about
a trip planned for Halloween Day involving a bus ride to places of public demonstration in the state capitol. The fact that the bus is owned, and will be driven by one of the students, is the perfect frosting on the cake of possibility for the holiday. October 31, 2038 11:14 A.M. In Oregon it’s illegal for motorists to fuel their own vehicles. The warrior knows the highway
the bus is taking and calculates where it will stop for gasoline. It’s a small proprietor-owned station with only one
attendant on duty. He has a twenty minute head start on the bus. Wearing a Halloween mask he parks his car out of sight near
the station, goes in, escorts the attendant to the backroom and ties him up, but explains, “Sir, this is not a robbery. There’s a bus load of Globalist traitors about to stop here.
I want to be the one who services them, for reasons you will understand on the evening news tonight.” The attendant replies, “Okay by me, but please call the cops once you’re clear so I don’t stay tied up all
day.” The warrior grins, “Got that covered already. Thanks for understanding.” Within four minutes, the bus pulls in. The warrior, still wearing the mask, but also a service station
cap, fills the tank. When nobody’s looking, just inside the gas spout, he places a magnetically attached radio-controlled
detonation device. After the snacks and restroom visits, the students get back on the bus and leave. The warrior gets in
his car, takes off fast, and passes them. When he is about two-hundred feet ahead, he looks in the rearview mirror and presses
the remote activator button. Nothing happens - one second, two seconds. He’s getting damned worried, then suddenly the
bus blows up like an atomic bomb, sending a huge orange fireball three-hundred feet into the air. The warrior is transfixed by the splendor of what he sees, and says aloud to himself, “It looks like a Halloween pumpkin of flame.” When the police question the attendant, he lies about height, weight, and everything else they ask him,
so as to throw them off the trail of the young patriot. That night, around 9:00 P.M., there are showers, but two-hundred-seventy-three more enemies of liberty are dealt with anyway by good Americans in the rainy state of Oregon. Kansas Most people living in Kansas today think that the there are no real Witches around anymore. Africans,
however, believe in something they call the Night Witch. Beliefs, like facts, can be made to serve evolutionary purposes. In a small cow town near a Globalist African settlement, two young indigenous warriors, also masters
of arcane study, quite naturally have Wicked Witch girlfriends. Despite the fact that they do not talk about this, they are
greatly envied, and feared, by the African men at the settlement. One day in town, one bold fellow among the loitering Africans speaks to the young chaps, “Hello there, we at the settlement wonder why your powerful girlfriends do not help us out in
some way. Are they oblivious to us?” The young men try not to laugh. One replies, “Why no, they… are not. In fact, last night we
were all discussing a way to do precisely that. For Halloween Day, we would like to invite you out to the large ranch past
the fork.” He points. They know the place, and nod. “Bring as many people as you like, but please come at exactly 10:00 o’clock in the morning, and for now, tell nobody else about this meeting. Doing so could cancel the results.” The Africans seem a bit puzzled, but agree. October 31, 2038 9:56 A.M. It’s a splendid cool sunny day. Forty-two African men and six women are walking down the long
driveway. On both sides, on top of every fence post, is a small pumpkin. Finally, they pause before the large white farmhouse
at the end of the driveway. The front door opens. A beautiful young blond woman in a slinky black dress steps out onto the porch
and stands next to a large wooden box. She looks at the Africans, raises her arms above her head, and intones, “Wee Witchity We” In the barn cupola two hundred feet away, a beautiful redhead is now seen. From her comes an augmentation, “Bee Bitchity Be” The blonde Witch opens the wooden box, slips on a light asbestos cloak with hood and clear face shield.
She ignites a small but powerful flame thrower, and intones, “Hephaestus! Lord of Fire, guide my hand!” The Africans stand as if entranced, watching as she walks down the steps, stops, and sends a huge tongue
of flame at the crowd. Most instantly ignite, begin to scream and roll on the ground. Three towards the rear, blocked by others,
have broken away, now out of range of the flame thrower. The redheaded has a .22lr lever action rifle with scope, suppressor,
and of course, poison bullets. The third of the three runners make it just one-hundred-twenty feet from the others. The blond
keeps at it till the Africans are well roasted The two chaps and their girlfriends do a quick cleanup of the area, with removal of the bodies to a cattle quicklime pit on property. Later tonight, one-hundred-thirty-two more enemies of indigenous Americas are taken to the great beyond
by patriots all over Kansas. West Virginia Indigenous Americans in coal mining areas are greatly annoyed by the crime wave that has accompanied
Islamic resettlement near their small peaceful communities. A hard working mine owner who has been forced to hire several of the lazy worthless thugs from the settlement, sits in his office studying a freestanding wire sculpture of his mine tunnels. He has been trying to think of something for Halloween, and now suddenly realizes he can solve his business dilemma and the recreation problem with one event. After lunch, he goes down into a mined-out part of the great labyrinth of tunnels to study the situation
at first hand. The supporting structure everywhere is still good. He finds a place, however, at the beginning of a long dead
end tunnel, which, if it did collapse for some reason, would drop enough debris to completely block the tunnel. In fact, it
would take at least eight days to dig it out. From this point, he runs a long string of bright lights with a remote control switch well down the tunnel,
then comes back and carefully conceals the requisite explosives with a time activated detonator. October 31, 2038 9:20 A.M. Without telling anyone else, the mine owner has personally invited and guided fifty-seven Islamic men
from the settlement down into the mine tunnels to show them what he is calling a “special work opportunity.” He has ushered them well ahead of him into the well-lighted
dead-end tunnel. He addresses them, “I appreciate that so many of you fellows were able to attend this meeting on such short notice.
As you know…” Suddenly the lights go out. He reacts, “Damn, I’m sorry men. It must be the fuse. It’s those new extra-bright bulbs. I’ll
use a bigger fuse this time. Just stay put for a few minutes. I’ll have the lights back on in no time.” In the dark, he walks back, reaches up and dials the explosive detonator to the preadjusted four minute setting and walks briskly away some three-hundred feet back to the elevator. When he is about one-hundred feet up the shaft, he hears the powerful dull thud. A small cloud of dust is borne up on a gentle breeze from the explosion. Later tonight two-hundred-three other parasitic emeries of America join the ranks of the dead in the
state of West Virginia. The next day the police don’t make too much of the cave in. These things happen from time to time
in mining country. Good hearted local volunteers dig out the fifty seven men, but are appalled when they see the evidence
of homosexual rape and cannibalism which occurred before the air supply ran out. Nevada A Libertarian Nationalist, and former boyfriend, contemplates his old high school sweetheart, today
a depraved card-carrying Communist agitator, hell-bent on devolving the human race. He is prompted now to write to her because
he has just read the obituary of her husband. Dear Catherine, I was sorry to hear of your husband’s demise, and offer my humble condolences. Life is short.
What goes around comes around, and change is the only thing we can count on. As you may or may not know, since last we spoke, I have become a very wealthy man. My ranch in Southern
Nevada comprises some six-hundred-thousand acres. It is however, very arid land, and for this reason my heard of cattle numbers
only about sixty thousand. My piggery, however, is the largest in the West. Madame, I’ll have you know that I feed the finest
slops in all of Clark County. In fact, every six months or so, young Four H Club members visit the ranch just to see my happy
porkers chow down. But let me get to the point. It would be my erstwhile pleasure to have you come to live here at my ranch.
Your position would, of course be, Top Sow! Think of what it would be like! You
would be privileged to chow down with all the other porkers. Twice every day, either myself or my authorized representative,
will bring you and your compadres large pails of the finest warm slops extant. I know what you must be thinking: that after the luxury you have become accustomed to, that this would
be a very hard life. All I can say is, that the deep feelings of personal integrity in finding your true place in the moral
hierarchy of society should more than compensate for the lack of comforts. Still, at times one might be tempted to leave. My suggestion is that you allow my veterinary surgeon
to amputate both your hands and feet. The reduced mobility would thus solve two problems: it would serve as an obvious deterrent
to leaving, and would put you on a more equal footing with the other porkers. Please consider my proposal carefully and let me know how you feel about it at your earliest convenience,
or just come out for at least a visit on Halloween Day. There will be fine food
aplenty. Very truly yours, etc. Later that day the rancher instructs his foreman that the pigs are not to be
fed until further notice. When the foreman looks curious, the rancher replies, “I want to increase their appetites for a special Halloween treat. As
usual, you and the men will have the thirtieth off. This time I’m also going to give you the thirty-first, with pay.” “Sounds good to me. Thanks, boss!” Two days later, when Catherine reads the letter, she is venomous and shows
it to her belligerent boyfriend with whom for years she had been cheating on her poor deluded husband. They put together a
group of eight Communist thugs of both genders and head west. The rancher has them watched and knows exactly when they will
arrive. October 31, 3038 11:10 A.M. The rancher is sitting on his front porch. The large SUV filled with the agitators
comes into the driveway and stops. They get out. The boyfriend and another man slip on brass knuckles and walk towards the
rancher. Out the front door come two ranch hands with twelve gauge shotguns. The eight
Communists are politely escorted to a barn, up the long outside ramp, then through a door onto a high platform inside the
barn. One of the hands uses a pitchfork to assist each of them in jumping off the platform to the eager porkers below. Catherine is last. Trembling, she gives the rancher a mournful pleading look.
He smiles, “Now, Catherine. Didn’t I tell you there would be food aplenty.” He nods and the chap with the fork prods Catherine’s buttocks. She falls
from the platform. The happy porkers chow down as never before. The rancher, gesturing at the pigs, says to the hands, “We’ll need to be a bit more careful around these fellows, now
that they’ve gotten a taste of human flesh.” The men nod solemnly. Later this night, eight-hundred-thirty-three more enemies of humanity die in
Nevada.
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