The Beerhaus

 

Max Johann Dietrich is a twenty-four-year-old, well-educated, prosperous, middle class German who, since he turned fourteen, has had a fondness for the flavor of good quality beer of all varieties. He recently received a degree in culinary arts from the University of Munich, and is now an official, licensed beer meister.

 

Max never drinks for the effect, in fact, he has devised an easy way of eliminating alcohol completely from his personal stock. He prefers to think of beer as liquid food, for the washing down of solid food, like pork cutlets and buttered spätzle. Thus far, the weekend hiking, and skiing, have made him very strong and agile. The indoor activity with his shapely girlfriend Karin has kept him from obesity.

 

February 14, 2022  Munich 10:28 A.M.

Max has just taken legal possession of a large, well established beerhaus in the west part of the Bogenhausen restaurant district. As he turns the door key, the well-oiled lock works perfectly, like everything else about this splendid property. He enjoys the festive look and smell of the place as he walks around proudly. It was offered for sale only because the sole inheriting son, is a successful paleontologist with no interest in beer, business, or absentee ownership.

 

Tomorrow Max will begin a few modifications having to do with easy access and privacy. One is a heavy steel door from the storage room behind the bar to the alley outside. This, will make stocking kegs of beer much easier, and will be about sixty feet away from the rear restaurant exit door, to the same alley. He also ads a lockable door from the office, directly into the storage room.

 

Another modification is an extra-large safe in the office for the storage of cash and a small arsenal. There will be four clubs of various weight and size, a garret, eight fixed-blade and folding knives, automatic rifle, pump shotgun, three pistols, and plenty of ammunition for everything. Max has also managed to procure cases of hand-grenades, dynamite, plastic explosive, and remote activated detonators. He has a full array of poison gas grenades, canisters, and darts.

 

The one weapon he will carry as backup in all situations is an 8mm Walther PPK. Max has twenty interchangeable barrels, so that police forensic specialists will not necessarily conclude that it is just one patriot killing all the enemies of Germany that Max is planning to dispatch. During work hours, he will keep the safe door closed, but unlocked, for quick access.  

 

There will be a crowning touch for the beerhaus. Max first thought of putting in a glass case on the bar, then decided it better remain in his office, namely, a skull-head beer stein made as a spare for Heinrich Himmler. Max was able to procure this unusual item from a friend, Garrett Valdison, who he met at a Libertarian summit in 2018.

 

Valdison is the son of Waldron Valdison who was a friend, at the University of Munich, of Franz Kaufmann, Max’s maternal grandfather.  Garrett bought the stein back in 2012 as part of the estate sale of the infamous hangman / hanged-man, Bickford Raitz of Falmouth, Massachusetts.

 

When Garrett met Max in 2018, he began to consider that it would be a good thing for Max, as a German national, to be the owner of this splendid piece of German history. 

 

 

Past Events

 

Max is a Libertarian Nationalist by nature. Years ago he read a comprehensive essay “World War II and Causes” in a website called New World Order: Seek and Destroy.  Since that time, he has read other underground literature, now suppressed in Germany, about the Third Reich and the phony Holocaust story contrived and exploited by Globalist bankers after the war. He understands the truth about how Germany was the victim of “reparations” plunder for things not done by Germany before and after both World War I and II. 

 

 

Current Events

 

Things are even worse today. The brainwashed dupes produced by three generations of IMF Banker subverted media disinformation, have elected treasonous government officials who are in complete cooperation with the European Union and the United Nations in their agenda for the systematic destruction of European culture, nations, and race.

 

This is being done by flooding Europe with Stone Age Africans and Medieval Islamists, then refusing to punish them for doing the worst possible things: rape, pedophilia, human trafficking. Indigenous Germans who object, are arrested and imprisoned for “hate speech.” Today evil rules the world. The only way to stop the invasion in any country is to kill so many of the enemy that word of mouth will end the invasion simply because of fear.

 

 

The Encampment

 

March 12, 2022 12:08 P.M

Very little work was needed prior to opening the beerhaus, and employees were easy to find through the University of Munich.  Max has been serving lunch and dinner for almost a month now, and is very pleased with the amount and general quality of his business.

 

Today a nasty group of six Islamic men come in to enjoy lunch with some money they robbed from a convenience store after murdering the owner, and raping his wife and daughter. Two are waring pro-ISIS T shirts.

 

All of them speak German fairly well, and are receiving welfare, but like to burn cars every night in a nearby apartment district to drive rents down so that they can move in, and still have enough money left over for hashish and gambling. This will take a few weeks, so in the meantime they are camping outdoors.

 

Max is polite and detached with everyone. He prefers to listen closely rather than speak unnecessarily. The men order beer and cold cut sandwiches with mountains of potato salad. Two of them speak openly about women they have raped. Another has been looking at Max, and makes a point of speaking to him, 

 

“Apartments are expensive here in Munich. Where do you live?”

 

Max has anticipated in advance, most common questions he would want to dodge when dealing with the general public, especially fellows of this variety,

 

“Oh, rent is no problem for me. My brother is with the police, and I’m given a spare room, at cost, in their barracks. Nothing fancy, but very practical. Where do you live?”

 

The Islamist looks slightly affronted,

 

“Nowhere yet. We have an encampment along a fence near the highway. There is a good view, but on the fence behind us a Jew has written in huge red letters.”

 

Max brightens,

 

“Yes. I think I know where you mean. Behind a bunch of warehouses, in four foot letters, he wrote Rabs Jeroishm, his name perhaps?”

 

The Islamist shrugs. Max wants to be rid of these louts, now that they are finishing their food. He asks,

 

“Are you guys going to the auto show? All the latest high performance cars in one place.”

 

“Where is it?”

 

“Two blocks east of the cathedral.”

 

Max points out the window. They all seem interested, have a second beer each, then leave. Max is tickled pink by this exchange, and the wheels begin to turn.

 

9:32 P.M.

Max approaches this perfect venue for murder and mayhem very cautiously. He is dressed all in black with a devil mask, and intends to have a good deal of fun with these fellows. The fence and small makeshift tents are seventy feet below. There is only one way out of the camp area, and that is to climb steeply up.

 

The Islamists felt that this location would be good security against robbery by seasoned hobos, in their absence. It never occurred to them how vulnerable it would make them to attack by night.

 

There is light in two of the tents. Max is standing next to a huge pile of boulder size cracked stone sold in quantity for landscaping. Three per man will suffice, so he assembles eighteen big stones near the edge of his best vantage point. Two of the men are sleeping outside. Max has always been very masterful at hitting targets of any kind, and tonight will be no exception.

 

He pitches the first stone, and has the next in hand before the first lands. The first smashes the skull of the sleeping target. The second man awakens just in time to see the speeding second stone and experience the smashing of his own skull.

 

The wakeful men in the two tents have heard the crunching, and are now outside gaping at the corpses and looking up. They have no guns. Gravity renders impotent any effort they could make in throwing stones up at Max.

 

Max smiles beneath his mask, but this part will be more difficult. He begins to chant,

 

“Ahn dahn dilyan,

Avoid these stones, if you can, but

Seitan will punish the raping man.”

 

He pitches at the largest man, who sees the stone at the last minute, and steps out of the way in time. Then another miss, and another. Finally, a smaller man trips over one of the corpses, and sprawls face down on the ground. A new stone finds a nice home right between his shoulder blades. He cries out in agony, but mercifully dies within fifteen seconds.

 

With nowhere to run, the remaining three men have gone into the tents to cushion themselves with folded up blankets. All the preceding activity, however, seems to have attracted attention out on the highway. A large SUV has stopped. The driver is talking on his cell phone.

 

Max must be practical. There will be other opportunities in future, so he pulls out the Walther PPK and nails the last three men, by covering the tented area with properly spaced fire. None of these is a killing shot, but all of the men are hit, and die within eight minutes, because Max uses poison bullets.

 

 

German History

 

March 20, 2022   10:11 A.M

Today Max and Karin are visiting the new Museum of German History that opened two weeks ago. There is an emphasis on veracity in this place, because it was funded and founded by Libertarians, wealthy despite government sabotage of the economy. The museum does, however, have to pander to the phony “holocaust” reparations scam, because of the repressive anti-free-speech laws enacted by the Jewish controlled minions of Globalism.

 

Max and Karin take the elevator to the third floor, and begin their tour with recent history, planning to work their way back to the earliest prehistory, complete with dinosaurs, on the ground floor.

 

After about forty minutes, the elevator comes up, and two male Islamist students wearing university T-shirts step out. They begin milling around, and soon find the WWII displays. They see Max and Karin, and even though they hate Jews more than Germans, they begin making disparaging remarks against Germany. One of them loudly proclaims,

 

“I think it was the Germans who murdered the fifteen thousand Poles in the Katin Forest, not the Russians as the lying German historians and their evil allies in America claim.”

 

The Katin Massacre is one of the few areas of WWII history where the truth is acknowledged by governments and media, simply because the facts are so widely known at the grass roots level, that to continue denying them would completely destroy any semblance of credibility.

 

This is an especially sore point of history for Max, because his paternal grandfather was murdered by Russians near Katin during the war, years before the fabricated government and media lies were officially discredited. Max is annoyed, and takes the bait. There is a small rotunda ceiling, so he speaks quietly,

 

“As college students you fellows should seek the truth about history rather than merely parroting the lies of Jewish controlled media.”

 

One student says sideways to the other,

 

“Typical anti-Semitic neo-Nazi type.”

 

Max replies,

 

“Watch your step, Islamist. You medievalist morons are at sufferance in my country. Eventually, when real Germans finally wake up, there will be nowhere you can run."

 

One of the Islamists is standing next to the mezzanine balustrade. He looks long and contemptuously at Karin and says,

 

“I imagine your little whore shares these bigoted viewpoints.”

 

Max is through talking. He walks briskly over to the insulting student, gives him a bolo punch in the nuts, then pitches him over the handrail. The student calls out as he falls. His head splits open against the cold granite floor, and his brain slides out like an egg yolk. The other student looks over, then at Max in horror.

 

Max smiles,

 

“Where’s your smart mouth now, Mohammed?”

 

The student tries to bolt, but Max follows quickly, grabs his shoulder, and swings him to the left so hard that he catapults over the edge to join his friend. Down below, the student brains glisten, as they co-mingle on the floor. Max looks over and sighs,

 

“No that’s what I call a meeting of the minds.”

 

Karin rolls her eyes up,

 

“There is just no end to your cheesy remarks, is there Herr Beer Meister.”

 

Max kisses her, and they take the elevator to the ground floor. As they get off, one of the museum empoyees viewing the bodies asks,

 

“Did you see what happened?”

 

Max says,

 

“They must have jumped. We heard someone say, “Paradise awaits. Allah be praised.” Then we heard someone yell, then a noise like something hitting the floor, then a few seconds later, that same noise again. When we came to the mezzanine, there was nobody there.”

 

He and Karin start to leave. The museum people seem distressed about this, and one of them says,

 

“You better stay to give an account to the police. You are the only witnesses.”

 

Karin says.

 

“We have to get to work. We really aren’t witnesses. We didn’t see anything, and can only guess about what happened.”

 

They walk out quickly to avoid further challenge. They will come back wearing disguises in a few months to see the rest of the displays.

 

 

Activism

 

PALPAP is a militant radical left group funded by Boris Pilos. The acronym actually stands for

People Against Liberty, Prosperity, and Peace.

 

The organization has a coordinating Communist elite, and then there are the flunkies, mostly delusional drug addicted college students paid by Pilos to stop public expression of Conservative and Libertarian viewpoints, usually by beating up women and old people.

 

April 16, 2022   8:14 P.M.

Six PALPAP flunkies enter the beerhaus and sit at the long table near the bar. Max serves them draft beer and bratwurst on rye. A tall fellow at the near end of the table addresses his comrades,

 

“Yesterday I talked to a girl who knew both of the students at the history museum. She says they would never have taken their own lives. They were studious, and had career plans for political office in Germany.”

 

Max feels especially glad to hear this. The young man continues,

 

“She thinks they must have been pushed over the mezzanine by that couple the TV news said left quickly without waiting for the police.”

 

Another, sitting at the far end of the table, says,

 

“We are at war. As activists, we have to stop re-acting after the fact. We need to be pro-active and start killing people we know to be strongly conservative. We don’t have to do it as part of any group initiative, but whenever we can, without telling anyone else, including each other. I mean leaderless resistance.”

 

The others concur. Max realizes that he is hearing the unfolding evil counterpart to his own activity in the service of good. It had to happen eventually. Better nip these young slaves of darkness in the bud, tonight.

 

The flunkies order cake or pie and another round of beers. They talk angrily about the Islamists killed at what has come to be known as, the Jeroishm Encampment.

 

One of the young twits actually tries to compare it to the massacre at Wounded Knee in America. Will Max blow his cool?

 

“It’s the opposite, you jackass! Wounded Knee was tyrannical invasion. Killing Islamists here is the resisting of tyrannical invasion.”

 

he thinks to himself. Max never blows his cool.

 

One more round of beers, and the young activists are planning to leave. Fortuitously, Max hears them say they are going to a festive gathering of Communists on the University of Munich campus. He heard about it earlier today at lunch, but without mention of venue.

 

Max reacts quickly. He asks one of the waiters to take over the bar, so he can make some long overdue phone calls without interruption. He goes into the office, locks the door, grabs four hand grenades, his trusty PPK, and a translucent face mask, enters the storage room, and goes out into the alley. He walks across the street to his Porsche parked in the small lot reserved for beerhaus patrons and staff. Listening to Dimmu Borgir, he warms the old girl up, and watches for the flunkies. After eight minutes they come out and cross to a large black SUV parked three cars away.

 

Max waits for them to pull out, then follows at an inconspicuous distance. At one point, he has to quickly pull over when they stop at a convenience store for cigarettes.

 

Finally, at the north end of the campus, they arrive at a medium sized, single story building. They pull into the adjacent parking area. Max hangs back and watches to be completely sure of where they are going, then parks further down the road on a dark side street.

 

The gathering is well underway and Max can see that there are at least two hundred people inside. He knows the layout, walks quickly to the right side of the building, approaches the window in the middle, pulls a pin, and pitches the first grenade into the gathering. Now he runs around to the front, and does the same thing at the mid-point there, then around the corner to the other side, and then the back. Throughout this assault, there are breaking windows and tongues of flame to avoid. Agility serves him well in this.

 

Three fellows approaching the front have seen him and are in careful pursuit. He sees them, pulls the PPK, and nails them all within four seconds. Must be that large roast hen with apple stuffing he enjoyed earlier, that is slowing him down so badly now. He runs back to the car. No porch lights have come on, because nobody on this street is ever home on a Friday night. In relaxed manner, he starts the Porsche and heads back to the beerhaus.

 

Max comes out of the office. Thirty-two minutes have elapsed. He relieves the waiter and apologizes for the delay, then begins serving a group of students at the same long table near the bar. Soon, a report of the grenade attack comes on the television.

 

The commentator announces,

 

“Two hundred thirty-six people were tragically killed in a series of hand grenade explosions in a building on the University of Munich campus earlier tonight. The reason for the attack is unclear. There were no witnesses. Three men were later found shot to death nearby. Police have not established any connection between the grenade attack and the shootings.”

 

The young people at the table knew about the gathering, are patriots, and cheer happily. Max grins and winks at one little cutie who has an especially devilish twinkle in her eye.

 

 

Out Shopping

 

April 24, 2022   10:28 A.M.

Even Max has to go shopping sometimes. He saw a shirt in a magazine recently, and wants one like it. Finally, after looking in three different department stores, he finds it, but has to place an order for one that will fit.

 

He is walking towards the escalator, when a tall, young Islamic man talking on a cell phone, steps on just ahead of him. Max walks down as far as he can discreetly, so he can hear the conversation,

 

“Yes, we have been educating so many infidels with your fine quality acid, that we must purchase more immediately. I am wondering if we could get a discount for buying a larger amount this time… Yes…Thank you… I must take the train, and should be there in thirty or forty minutes.”

 

“No you won’t”

 

thinks Max to himself, who upon reaching the ground floor, stops to give the man a comfortable lead. He has to stop again and mill around, while the fellow visits the cologne testers to sniff at a few bottles before taking a free spritz.

 

Max follows him out of the store and down the street. As the man approaches the steep concrete staircase down to the underground train platform, Max speeds up and reaches him just as he is taking the first step. Max looks behind, then gives the fellow a mighty push, and moves on quickly down the street.

 

Down and down, over and over, the poor chap falls, one hundred and twenty feet. When he reaches the bottom, every bone in his body is broken, and if he were not dead already, would bleed to death from all the bone punctures alone, to say nothing of the massive internal injuries. Max doesn’t see any of this, of course, but hears about it on the news later.

 

An impromptu job nicely done. Max only wishes that he could have gotten hold of the Islamist’s cell phone to find the number and address of the person who manufactures and sells the acid to the enemy.  

 

 

May Wine

 

May 1, 2022

Invading outlanders like to attend and ruin festivals or rites of passage, for indigenous peoples, by calling attention to themselves with loud talk and foul language.

 

Today German pagans and other nationals are celebrating the annual wine festival in a park along the river bank. Later there will be a wine tasting with 136 vintages to be judged. No one person wants to taste them all, so the wines are divided into categories ranging from the darkest of Burgundies to the lightest of dry Moselles. There is a buffet with an eating area under large tents.

 

10:31 A.M. Max, Karin, and others are sitting at a long table a few feet from the river bank, enjoying orange glazed chicken drumsticks and goose liver canopies, with egg salad sandwiches and black currant juice.

 

Three rowdy, very Hellish looking, Islamic men come swaggering into the festival grounds, talking and shouting loudly, deliberately bumping into people and against tables, trying to cause spills and general distress. If anyone speaks up, they are insulted and threatened.

 

Karin sees them coming and says,

 

“I’m going to call the police.”

 

Max replies,

 

“Don’t bother. The police are controlled by subverted leaders, and will stand down.”

 

When the hook nosed easterners get to Max’s table, one of them bumps the corner hard and causes the beverage of a lady sitting opposite Max to spill. Max says,

 

“OK, that’ll be enough, Abba Dabba. Get out of here before I kick your ass.”

 

The Islamist replies,

 

“if you try, I will besmirch your nose with pig offal and ravage the kunt of your bitch with a broken bottle while you watch in chains.”

 

Max issues a world weary sigh, gets slowly up and then with lighting speed grabs the ear lobes of the dirty talker and his nearest companion. He begins to briskly march them towards the water. On the way, the third Islamist scurries around in front of Max and pulls a knife, but Max kicks him in the balls.

 

Now Max maneuvers the first two men into a small thicket at the water’s edge, angles them down, and pulls their heads just below the surface of the water. He quickly changes his grip to the back of each man’s neck.

 

They struggle, but Max holds them in place for what seems like an eternity, until they drown. The other man is just now getting up. Max takes him also by the ear, over to the thicket, then strangles him with both hands. Now he sets the three into the water and pushes them out a few feet with a long tree branch. The current catches them, and off they go.

 

Half a mile own river, a little blond American boy playing with a toy sailboat sees the three men floating by, and sings to himself,

 

“Carrowsin down the riba,

On a Sunday appanoon.”

 

Max washes his hands in the water, and walks back to the table. Many of the others look upon him with total awe. One old General says,

 

“Splendid work, young man. I hope we can drown all of those filthy rats before this vile business with the EU is over.”

 

“Don’t worry. We will.”

 

replies Max with a solemn smile.

 

He takes Karin’s hand and they walk back to the Porsche, then drive home.

 

 

 

Acid Attack

 

June 18, 2022

Ever since the encampment massacre, street assaults directed against the indigenous population of Munich have escalated. For his own protection, Max now carries the PPK on his person at all times, and a short scatter gun in the Porsche.

 

Today he is out early on foot to enjoy a walk along the river and the Intense Orange Espresso he often enjoys while looking at the ducks frolicking in the morning sun.

 

As he starts across the narrow pedestrian bridge to get to the area with the ducks, he sees two young Islamic men starting onto the bridge from the other side. As they draw closer, Max sees the taller of the two reach into his jacket pocket and produce something too small to see. When the men are three feet away, they suddenly step to block Max’s path. The tall man has his right hand behind his back and speaks very briskly to Max,

 

“Yes, good morning. Now tell me quickly: Who is the greatest prophet of all!”

 

Max smiles and says,

 

“In this context, Mohamed, of course.”

 

The Islamist looks a little annoyed. Impatiently he inquires more closely,

 

“Just what do you mean by in this context?”

 

Max replies with equal, but mock impatience,

 

“I mean that Mohamed once said,

‘Service to others is the rent you pay for your room here on earth.’ The service I render to others is that I purge the Earth of filth like you.”

 

The tall man is enraged, and around comes the little vile of acid, but with his left hand, Max grabs the man’s wrist, brings it up, and twists it so that the acid pours right down the man’s forehead, and burns out his eyes. The smoking fumes are so pungent, that Max nearly wretches, as he brings around the PPK in his right hand, presses it into the shorter man’s gut and fires, then steps back, and looks at the screaming tall man, and says,

 

“May Allah and Mohammed forgive you. Good Europeans never will!”

 

then shots both men between the eyes. 

 

 

Natural Gas

 

August 11, 20022

Max just found out that Boris Pilos purchased four large city-style natural gas powered passenger busses for the transport of PALPAP flunkies to every location where they can attack good people who demonstrate in favor or just, workable Libertarian government policies.

 

He thinks to himself,

 

“Since the government likes to say that people have been gassed, then I had better make honest men of them. Someday I will be known as Munich’s Phantom Einsatzgruppen.”

 

Max visits the place where the busses are parked. There is a security fence, but he will be able to manage it. The next step is tinkering.

 

All the devices will be radio controlled. The first will be a door locking mechanism. The second, a valve which will allow a rapid influx, into the passenger compartment, of the natural gas fuel supply carried in tanks above the passenger compartment. The third is an ignition sparking device.

 

These are all simple devices, but it takes Max four mornings to perfect them to satisfaction. Installation is extremely risky, so to be worth it, the devices must be flawless.

 

August 19, 2022   2:14 A.M.

Max mounts the fence at the bus depot, and drops to the ground on the far side. It’s easy to identify the bus which will be prioritized. He picks the door lock and gets inside. Using a tiny fluorescent lamp attached to his cap, he first installs the door locker. He attaches a sparker underneath a rear seat with a simple magnet, and another under a front seat just for good measure. They will work off one control.

 

The valve is difficult to install. He will have to stand up on a seat in plain view. There is a shadow cast by a lamp pole into the bus, so that’s where he will stand. He has to splice the valve into the feed line, and feels extremely lucky that panel access to this just happens to correspond to the protecting shadow. Once the valve is installed he cannot test it in place, because he doesn’t want to release any warning smell of gas.

 

The entire business has taken twenty-six minutes, and he is very relieved when he gains ground on the other side of the fence.

 

August 28, 2022

Today ninety-six PALPAP thugs are planning to interfere with a freedom-of-speech rally at 10:00 A.M. on the University of Munich campus. The bus leaves early to round them all up at different locations around the city.

 

Max is tailing the bus at a considerable distance. The ride is a very educational one, because the meeting places where the bus stops are probable future targets.

 

Finally, after the bus stops for the seventh time, it seems like a safe conclusion that there will be no further stops. At each meeting place, Max has watched with binoculars, and at this point has counted a total of approximately ninety-two passengers entering the bus.

 

The time is now. Max presses the bus door locker button, then the valve opener. As he waits the full three minutes, the bus does not move. He takes this as a very a good sign. The driver must be otherwise employed.

 

Now he sees faces looking out of the windows, in some cases with hands against the glass. One emergency window opens. He quickly presses the sparker button. The bus windows all turn blue and orange with flame, then they blow out, followed by tongues of fire. Finally, the tanks on top join in for a grand explosion that looks like a small atomic bomb. There’s even a mushroom cloud.

Holy Kahzoozis!  

 

 

University Speaker

 

September 14, 2022   10:05 A.M.Today Abraham Fastman, representing the Globalist viewpoint, is addressing the general student body at the University of Munich. The auditorium is packed with over sixteen thousand people. Fastman begins,

 

“Do you young people realize that today those calling themselves Conservatives or Libertarian Nationalists are really just Neo Nazis who hate you all. They especially hate those of you who may show a little deviation from their precious so-called norm.

 

“If you are gay, lesbian, bisexual, or any category of transgender, if you enjoy the natural euphoria from cannabis or cocaine, in the evening on your own time, or if you are from a different cultural background, I speak especially about Islam, they would deny you the government support that you are now legally entitled to, when and if you become jobless.

 

“Essentially, they don’t care if you starve, or if you sicken and die without health care. Everyone is entitled to good health…”

 

Fastman goes on for another ten minutes, but only reiterates what he has said up to this point. He receives a standing ovation. Now it’s time for questions and answers,

 

Max and Karin are sitting with Karl Beckmann, visiting Munich for the autumn season. He is a good friend of Max from their days together at this university. In 2020, he was awarded a bachelor’s degree in military science. After being recognized and introducing himself, he asks Fastman,

 

“I would like first to comment, then to ask your opinion about my comment:

 

“I think that we will all agree that any humane society will have funding in place for people with a history of productivity who have incurred some legitimate disability, and will help people get through catastrophic emergency caused by local supply and demand conditions, like the closing of a mine.

 

“It seems, however, that the obverse side of what you have said is actually this: radical liberals today believe that it is somehow a legitimate function of government to sustain a permanent underclass of self-disabling people who feel that they are too sensitive to work, because of the natural adverse reaction of those in the work place, using your examples, to their perverted sexuality, muddled thinking and diminished job performance from drug abuse, or the practice of a barbarous unnatural religion that, among other things, condones the raping of women and children, while urging a long term plan of  national conquest requiring theocracy of the countrymen who meantime host them in their always parasitic lifestyle. As to health care, why should society give healthcare to those, who intentionally make themselves sick, so they won’t have to work?”

 

A deep hush falls over the audience. They want to boo Karl, but despite four generations of disinformation from IMF subverted media, they sense at some gut level that he’s right.

 

Karl persists,

 

“Mr. Fastman, what is your comment?”

 

“Karl, I can only reply with two questions:

What childhood trauma did you suffer that made you so filled with hate? Why don’t you get psychotherapy to help you with it?”

 

The lemmings applaud as one unit, on cue. Karl sighs patiently, and replies,

 

“Your limp-wristed, cowardly response is merely standard IMF banker subterfuge. After your phony psychology, the facts remain. You want only, that your banker cronies be able to continue financing countless generations of weak-sister parasites. You have not addressed my question, because you cannot, without further incriminating yourself.

 

“Indigenous peoples and cultures will never be safe from the avaricious monsters of the IMF system, until all peoples, including your own, are living in their rightful ancestral homelands with national ownership and control of central banks, no foreign ownership of business, and no lending outside their own country.”

 

Fastman reddens. With shrillness,

 

“All you care about is money!”

 

The lemmings cheer. Karl replies,

 

“Nice try, but all you care about is money. It’s in your scriptures. What I care about is keeping the money I justly earn through productive work, in a free society.”

 

For some reason, he lemmings sit this one out. The final audience reaction to Karl is strong applause, but only from a small minority of well-educated, mostly older, people. The lemmings, although silent now, remain in Fastman’s camp.

 

Strangely, Fastman, on the way back to his hotel, suffers a fatal automobile accident, when his sedan plunges down a deep escarpment, and bursts into flame. No witnesses to the ancient ever come forward. The Communist media all claim that it was murder. Max knows they are right.

 

 

Cultural Diversity

 

October 6, 2022   5:25 P.M.

 

Oktoberfest is well under way. Tonight four male PALPAP flunkies come in for dinner. There are three pretty girls from the university sitting at the table neat the bar. They are theater majors and are going to see a play after dinner.

 

One of the flunkies, Gherkin, knows two of the girls. They exchange greetings and the young men join the girls at the table. Max heartily recommends, then serves the young people seven steins of his new Black Forrest Beer.

 

As they drink, the conversation becomes livelier, more aggressive, and louder. One of the girls, Anna, is a Libertarian, and is saying,

 

“History shows that indigenous populations living in separate sovereign nations competing in a free world market, works better than Communism or any of this breed-up-quick nonsense being forced by the EU and UN.”

 

Replies Bruno,

 

“You are a racist!”

 

Anna looks disappointed by this unwarranted, programmed response,

 

“Wanting to preserve my own race and cultural heritage doesn’t make me a racist. Forced mixing isn’t diversity. It’s just the opposite. Where is the diversity in a future populated by one race of identical slaves?”

 

Bruno glares angrily and speaks louder,

 

“You are a Fascist!”

 

It’s time for another round, and Max adds something he calls “Mr. Hyde Enhancer” to Bruno’s beer. This additive helps to bring out the recipient’s true nature and goals a bit more clearly than beer.

 

Bruno escalates his foulness as he drinks,

 

“You are just a Fascist shit, you no good whore. Oh, would I like to kick you in the cunt about twenty times.”

 

Anna looks very dismayed, and says to the other girls,

 

“I’m out of here. Are you coming?”

 

The other two girls aren’t all that political, and decide to stay, even though they think Bruno is an asshole, and plan to avoid speaking with him.  Anna gets up, puts on her grey wool coat and leaves via the back door nearest to the theater district.

 

Bruno says,

 

“I must pee”

 

and gets up as though intending to visit the men’s room, but looks back to see nobody watching, then goes one door further out to the alley, just behind Anna.

 

Actually Max did see Bruno, enters the office grabs a long, medium weight club from the arsenal, and enters the alley out the storage room door. Bruno has already wrestled Anna to the ground, and is about to rape her. Max walks up briskly, hits Bruno with the club, hard in the small of his back. Bruno gasps in pain and roles off the frightened girl. Max says gently to her,

 

“You’ll be alright, just go ahead to the theater, and I’ll take care of this fellow. The other girls will join you soon. If anyone asks later, please tell them in a casual matter-of-fact way that you didn’t see Bruno after you left. Just stick to that, and volunteer nothing.”

 

Her brow wrinkles with curiosity, but she doesn’t ask for further explanation, deciding that it’s probably better not to. She knows that the world is at war, gets up, straightens her dress, and hurries away. A handful of orange leaves spiral after her. She looks back, with a pale smile, to say simply,

 

“Thank you, Max.”

 

Bruno is just getting up. Max walks back to him, grips the club with both hands, and pokes Bruno in the nuts so hard it lifts him off the ground. Bruno gasps and falls back the ground. Max says,

 

“So you like to hurt women, you goddamned little Communist cocksucker?”

 

With eight well placed strikes, Max clubs Bruno quickly to death. He looks around, then carries Bruno thirty feet to the alley dumpster. He jumps in, and hides Bruno under empty boxes, planning to transport him to the river later. Just as he gains his footing back on the pavement, he sees headlights coming around the corner.

 

“Unbelievable! True synchronicity!”

 

thinks Max, as he reenters the storage room door, just as a huge municipal garbage truck draws up to harvest the trash in the dumpster.

 

Max comes out through the office, and begins washing beer mugs. After a while, Gherkin visits the men’s room. When he comes back he announces that Bruno isn’t there. Nobody, including Max, saw where he went. A chap sitting at the next table overhears, and offers, 

 

“If you’re talking about that tall fellow with the logo T-shirt, I saw him leave by the back exit about fifteen minutes ago.”

 

“Why would he do that?”

 

ruminates Gherkin to no one in particular.

 

Everybody shrugs.

 

Max realizes that, even though he hasn’t put any boxes in the dumpster since the last time the truck came, if Bruno’s body is found at the city dump, boxes from the clothing store at the opposite end of the alley on the next street, will identify the neighborhood and Max will probably be visited by the police.

 

This is actually superfluous, because, as part of a routine missing person search, the police would visit anyway, since the beerhaus will be last place anyone saw Bruno. In spite of this, Max has it in mind that a small panel truck “meat wagon” he can park in the alley, also with a scatter gun under the seat, would be a good investment for shuttling dead enemies of Germany to the river, without any dumpster layover duty.

 

As time passes, it turns out that rats eat Bruno’s body under the rubble at the dump, and nobody ever finds his skeleton, which is now part of a land fill in the eastern part of the city. Since Bruno was an unpredictable itinerate, none of his comrades consider his disappearance from their lives unusual enough to involve the police, who most of them prefer to avoid anyway, for reasons of their own, mostly drug and assault related.

 

Max knows nothing of these matters, however, and only begins to make accurate deductions about the situation some three weeks after the incident in the alley.

 

 

Demonstration

 

October 18, 2022 University of Munich

8:03 A.M. Today there is a campus demonstration by Libertarian Nationalist students against policies of the EU and UN, in forcing incompatible racial elements into European populations.

 

Max arrives early and sees Anna among the demonstrators. She smiles and waves to him. He would like to know her better, but sees that she is with a young man who is obviously on intimate terms with her.

 

Islamic thugs and PALPAP flunkies have been gathering opposite the students. They’re all wearing masks and are calling out slanders, throwing balloons filled with urine, and doing all the things that people without integrity always do to try to hurt and intimate people with superior values and goals.

 

The Pilos funded elements begin to assault students with their long sticks. Max has brought a video camera, and keeps a good distance away from the fray. Every time the thugs assault somebody, Max films it, then swings the camera immediately towards the police, who, bought and paid for, just as in America, are standing down. 

 

Three young masked men start really going to town on a middle aged woman who decided to fight back. Max makes a point of letting the police see that he is getting their treasonous behavior on tape. This causes eight of them to reluctantly disperse the assault on the woman, none too soon, by her bloodied face.

 

More and more news people are arriving. They film most of what is happening, but the Globalist subterfuge occurs, of course, in the editing of what will be shown to the lemmings on televising tonight.

 

The whole business rages on for over two hours, then things begin to wind down. Max starts walking around looking intently. Finally, he sees the three thugs who were beating the woman. He knows one by a red bandana, another by yellow socks. They are standing in a group of eighteen other ninja wannabees. After a few minutes they begin to walk back to their headquarters, just off the campus. Max follows at a proper distance.

 

The group files into a sturdy brick building, sit down at old lunch tables, and all begin to eat stew they prepared in advance. Max sneaks up and looks in one of the windows. A big nasty looking fellow sees him and comes out quick.

 

“Can I help you with something?”

 

he asks aggressively.

 

“Is this the student commons. I’m hungry”

 

asks Max. The fellow responds, pointing,

 

“No, this is private. Go back that way, about five minutes, and it’s just after the biology building on the left.”

 

“Thanks’

 

says Max, chuckling to himself as he heads for the beerhaus, which will open today at noon. He has just enough time.

 

He opens the office safe and grabs three sticks of dynamite, quickly bundles them with tape, and selects a short fuse. He also takes the PPK, just in case.

 

Max is back to the flunky luncheon hall within fifteen minutes. He waits until there are no pedestrians within three hundred feet, then rapidly approaches the window. The same chap sees him again, and bolts out the door, closing it behind him. Max smashes the window with a rock, and heaves the dynamite well into the middle of the gathering.

 

Max is agile, ducks well below the window to avoid the blast, pulls the PPK and shoots the charging thug between the eyes just in time to avoid being kicked in the face. As the glass shatters, a big tongue of fire comes out the window. Max’s hair is slightly singed. Now he runs like hell, as he would have sooner, if he hadn’t had to shoot the watchful thug.

 

Max makes it back to the beerhaus in time to open, and now immensely enjoys the television news coverage of the demonstration, which after about five minutes, is enriched with new information about the explosion.

 

After another half hour, the television reporter says that the police body count shows three Islamists and thirty-nine PALPAP snowflakes. Max thinks to himself,

 

“Yes, I remember thinking that there seemed to be more people than originally. The Norns work well with good Germans in matters of high patriotic endeavor of course.”

 

“What are you smirking about, Herr Dietrich?”

 

asks Karin with a fetching look.

 

“What we are going to do later, of course, Curvaceous Karin.”

 

She is a Libertarian herself. Max trusts her to be tolerant of his activities, but never tells anybody more than he has to.

 

 

Samhain

 

October 28, 2022

Four Islamic thugs are sitting at the bar bragging about bombing cars in a nearby neighborhood to drive down the rent. Max pretends not to notice the content of their conversation. One says,

 

“This custom of theirs, Halloween, will be perfect for us. We can dress up as devils!”

 

The others laugh. He continues,

 

“I can spread the word to at least one hundred others. We should begin just after dark, and cover the entire area starting two blocks north of here at that big brick apartment house, then from there, two blocks wide, north for six blocks. That’s the total area that most of us want to live in.”

 

One of the others says.

 

“This is a good idea, but remember that we will need to persist in that entire area over time to get results, otherwise they will think that it’s just their own teenagers acting up for the holiday.

 

The Islamists are in agreement. 

 

October 31, 2022

8:08 A.M. Hilton Armstrong arrives by plane from Cambridge Massachusetts

 

8:03 P.M.

Max tells his replacement that he will be attending a party in a distant suburb, and leaves. Tonight, he is back in black, with the same devil mask, and a sturdy Halloween tote bag, to carry plenty of extra clips for the PPK.

 

Just in case, he also has a Hibben Silver Shadow dagger in a sheath under his jacket. Max isn’t worried about these fellows shooting back. Most of the newly arrived Islamists do not carry guns… yet.

 

8:14 P.M.

There is an invigorating nip in the air tonight. It makes Max feel frisky, and puts a spring in his step. He walks past the brick apartment house into the first street that will be targeted, and puts on the mask. After three minutes he sees an Islamist man walking up behind a car. Max walks briskly over, sees a can of lighter fuel in the fellow’s hand, and shoots him immediately.

 

Working the other side of the street, another Islamist sees this, and crouches behind a car, but Max sees him, and starts across. The man can only break and run. He runs very fast, and just as Max is taking aim, at too great a distance, the Islamist starts to turn the corner.

 

Suddenly an arrow appears in the place between the running man’s shoulder blades, and he hits the pavement, already dead.

 

“Just beautiful!”

 

crows Max, looking around with a grin.

 

Hiding in a doorway, there is a fellow that looks like a fashion plate for Robin Hood, all in Sherwood Forrest Green, sporting traditional hat with pheasant feather, and a large quiver of poison hunting arrows. Max doesn’t see him, shrugs, and says to himself,

 

“Whoever it is, looks like I have an ally.”

 

Max continues down the street until he sees another Islamist near the back of a car. This is not an Islamic neighborhood, so his presence probably means that he is up to no good. In fact, it really doesn’t matter if they are burning cars or not. For the European race and nations to remain intact, they must all die eventually. Tonight is as good a time as any.

 

Max picks up his pace. The man notices, and gets out a knife without Max seeing. Just as Max pulls the PPK, the Man rushes forward, Norman Bates style, with the knife raised high. Max leaps back, and fires the last round in this clip. The dead man falls forward, his forehead nearly hitting Max’s shoes.

 

Max begins to remove the empty clip, when three more Islamic men come out of a big darkened doorway. All three have knives, one, of the oversize French Chef variety. Not enough time to change the clip.

 

“Oh, Hell Kite!”

 

thinks Max as he produces his own dagger, and adopts a defensive posture. The predators begin to circle.

 

Now the fellow with the Chef knife is coming in fast, but stops abruptly when an arrow splits the bone between his eyes. This distraction allows Max to stick the fellow to his left in the guts. He leaves the poisoned knife in him, and as the third fellow breaks into a run, quickly replaces the clip in the PPK, and disrupts the running man’s rear cortex before he’s thirty feet away.

 

Max looks around for the archer, but again does not see him. He pulls the knife out of the second fellow, wipes it clean on the man’s coat, swishes the blade vigorously in a puddle left over from last night’s rain, wipes it again with a paper towel he carries for this purpose, and replaces it in the sheath.

 

“Six down, only ninety-four to go.” 

 

thinks Max with a sigh, as he heads north to the next block.

 

As the evening progresses, Max manages to shoot thirty-three more Islamic arsonists. The invisible archer kills six more that are of vital assistance for Max, who thinks,

 

“I hope that someday this archer will visit the beerhaus and Identify himself, so I can give him and his party, a superb dinner. He saved my life five times. This mission was more dangerous than I anticipated. Some of these thin Islamists move more quickly than I expected. I guess hashish doesn’t slow their reflexes when they are not smoking.”

 

When Max arrives home, he prepares a nutritious late dinner to replenish him after such a long evening of strenuous activity. When he turns on the TV late news he is delighted to hear about the total of eighty-nine dead Islamists. He thinks,

 

“Fifty-two to my thirty-seven. Maybe I better get a bow and arrow.”

 

 

Harvest Ball

 

Sometimes invading outlanders like to ruin festivals and holidays for indigenous peoples with bombs or machine guns.

 

November 9, 20022   7:22 P.M.

Tonight German patriots have rented a fine old house as a nice venue for the annual Harvest Ball, the exact date of which varies from year to year based on how the calendar falls relative to weekends.

 

Max and Karin are listening to Blutengel while drinking pumpkin spice eggnog. Abruptly, Karl, Beckmann, still around after Oktoberfest, enters the hall. He knows Karin, and that he can speak freely in front of her, so he walks directly up to Max, forgoing formalities, and says,

 

“There are nine Islamic troublemakers on the way over here. At least six may be armed with automatic weapons. They should arrive within five minutes. Should we not eliminate them outside before they arrive?”

 

“Yes, outside. Let’s get to the tall bushes near the street, quick. Are you packing?”

 

“Always!” 

 

The two warriors go quickly out by the kitchen back door. This takes ten seconds longer, but will work better in the aftermath. They make it to the bushes within forty-five seconds and draw their pistols.

 

Karl says,

 

“After they pass, we step out. I’ll go first and shoot them from the right side to center, you from the left to center, okay le vou?”

 

“No, I want the right…”

 

says Max smirking. Karl grimaces. Max refreshes him,

 

“…just kidding.”

 

Within two minutes they can hear the Islamists advancing, ranting and bragging in their native tongue. The crashers see the venue and one of them points, saying something. The others laugh. They file past. Karl gives them ten feet, then leads off, coming silently out of the bushes. Max follows. The two champions are four feet apart. Karl starts, then Max.

 

They hit seven of the men, but two manage to hide behind trees. The one to the left quickly pops out from behind his tree, sending a burst of machine gun fire. The other has only a pistol. Karl finds his own tree to the right. Max goes back into the bushes, moving stealthily to the left so he can get a better shot at the machine gunner.

 

By this time, guests at the ball are dropping to the floor to avoid being seen in the windows.

 

The first time the Islamist with the pistol peeks out, a hole immediately appears between his eyes, because Karl peeked out sooner, and kept his aim, waiting for the outlander.

 

Max has advanced to where he can see the machine gunner’s right elbow, appearing at the left side of the tree. He breaks from the bushes and runs toward the left of the tree. The Islamist hears, then sees, at the last minute, raising the machine gun. Max shoots him in the chest, stops short, takes better aim, and puts one in the gunner’s forehead.

 

Police sirens are starting. Both heroes run back to the kitchen door, hiding their weapons in a flower bed behind the house. As they enter, Karin is on the kitchen floor. They join her. After a while, one of the hosts gets up, starts to walk around, and says,

 

“Looks like the shooting is over.”

 

When he comes to the kitchen, Max, Karin, and Karl get up.

 

Max says,

 

“I’m hungry. Where are those Braunsweiger sandwiches I’ve been hearing about?”

 

“In the refrigerator. Helpie selfie”

 

says the host.

 

“Thing guow”

 

replies Max.

 

The police arrive and ask the usual questions. Nobody saw anything. One Islamist is alive but comatose, and dies on the way to the hospital. The police leave. Karl looks at Max and Karin,

 

“So, what have you two been up to?”

 

 

Hunting

 

November 26, 2022   Wetlands   8:42 A.M. Max and Karl plan to have roast duck for dinner tonight, so they must be vigilant while hiding in a cluster of cattails near the water. At some distance they hear a woman begin to scream. Max says,

 

“Damsel in distress. I guess the duckies will have to wait for a while.”

 

The two Norsemen walk quickly in the direction of the screaming for about five minutes. It suddenly stops. They keep on in the same direction for another four minutes, walking as quietly as they can and listening intently. Now they begin to hear men talking and laughing. As they approach, they see a young girl, naked and gaged, being raped by an Islamic man, while three others laugh and egg him on.

 

Karl adjusts his twelve gauge to full choke, raises the barrel and fires. The raping man’s head explodes like a bag of red gelatin. The others look around frantically. Karl and Max stay low and move quickly in on them.

 

One of the men has his own shotgun in hand. When he sees Max, he begins to raise the gun but Max is faster, also at full choke, shoots first and decapitates him. The other two Islamists pull knives and get behind the girl in a posture of throat cutting. They imagine this will be a bargaining chip with their two Viking opponents. The girl is sobbing uncontrollably.

 

Karl says,

 

“As before. I’ll take the right. Simultaneously the two heroes raise their guns and fire. Now four headless Islamic corpses profane the wetlands of Germany. Max brings the girl her clothes. She has taken off the gag.

 

“Are you hurt physically?”

 

he asks.

 

“No, just frightened. Thank you both for saving my life. They said they were going to kill me!”

 

“They often do.”

 

says Karl.

 

Max asks, just to be safe,

 

“Are there any more of these fellows in the immediate area.”

 

“Not that I know of. I was out for a walk and suddenly there they were,”

 

she says looking at the bodies and gore.

 

Karl looks over to higher ground, at three large ravens who have perched high in a tree and seem to be watching them. With a grin, he points and says,

 

“Look, we’re in good company. Let’s get out of here so we don’t keep them from their dinner.”

 

  

Wehrwolf Activity

 

February 11, 2023

Max is delighted and inspired when he learns about the activities during the past year, of a modern day SS Wehrwolf unit, in protecting the future for Germans and European decedents. The IMF banker subverted mainstream media has not reported any of these events. The details Max receives are as follows:

 

2022

 

Brussels   March 12

Fourteen important EU functionaries and their companions are ripped to pieces while enjoying a picnic in the woods

 

Amsterdam   March 26

Twenty-four top UN Globalists and their companions are killed by automatic weapon fire while awaiting a fine fragrant soup appetizer.

 

Stockholm   April 14

Eighty-eight employees of Sweden’s national emigration service are strangled or bludgeoned to death at their workplace.

 

Paris   April 26

Emile Monteaux, the Globalist President of France, has his throat ripped out during an outdoor luncheon.

 

Edinburg   June 3

An Islamic imam, famous for his advocacy of the rape of Scottish women, is shot in the head in his mosque.

 

Arizona Desert   July 12

Forty thousand NATO troops, awaiting orders to invade the Los Angeles Basin, are neutralized by a small nuclear warhead.

 

At Sea   July 26 and next four months

Forty-eight hundred and three African invaders, being brought into Europe by the UN, go to Davy Jones’ Locker when their boats are sunk.

 

Munich   August 12

Five thousand Mid-Eastern invaders coming into Germany by train, courtesy of the UN, perish in a perfectly orchestrated series of passenger car explosions.

 

Hamburg   September 8

More than four thousand middle eastern invaders, being brought into Germany, as an entire village, by the EU, are incinerated by a series of sixteen small incendiary rockets.

 

Berlin   September 11

Cra Veller and two other traitorous German Globalist parliamentarians are found shot in the head in a private booth in their favorite restaurant.

 

Germany   September 14

Pamphlets begin to show up in cities all over the country urging patriotic Germans to kill on sight, every EU or UN functionary, and any other Globalist traitor they can. Within three weeks, variations on the German pamphlet are appearing in every city in Europe. Soon the internal enemies of the European race and civilization begin to die or disappear one after another at a rate of about four per week.

 

Brussels   November 14

Six top EU Leaders, specifically Yod Trasher, Ronald Ivory, Frank Timberlands, Marlin Lipchitz, Dario Braggi, and Fredosa Mohairius, are expunged by a Law’s Rocket in a limousine on the way to a conference.

 

Eight American Cities   December 12  

At total of three hundred forty-eight PALPAP flunkies die in eleven well timed explosions. When Boris Pilos hears the news, he is fit to be straight jacketed.

 

New York City   December 16

Eighty-seven top PALPAP leaders are ripped to pieces at an emergency strategy meeting.

 

2023

 

Spring Valley New York   January 11

Undetermined number of Globalist child traffickers and pedophiles are killed at a torture facility. Many children are saved.

 

Friarham, England   February 3

Four thousand thirty-eight Islamists are incinerated in their mosques. The exotic smell of roasting Islamic flesh is borne upon the morning air.

 

February 18,2023   8:22 P.M.

Max is washing glasses in the beerhaus when he hears o the television that the dead bodies of Flagella Marchal, Chancellor of Germany, and thirty-five other top Globalist officials, have been found in a roadside ditch just outside of Munich. Appropriately, they had all been executed by hanging.

 

February 19, 2023

A press release is issued about the Nationalist Revolution. When the German people hear about the accomplishments of the Wehrwolf unit, they rally to the cause of patriotism, and insist of the remaining government, that Germany withdraw immediately from EU.