A Neo-Nazi Godsend

Introduction

Back when I was a kid at home, periodic wrestling matches would break out in the living room. There were various wrestlers involved at different times, but one of the things I remember is the role played by my mother, which was to stand in the doorway and say, “Somebody is going to get hurt.”

I am not casting shade in a maternal direction here, because the fact was that she had a point. One time, shortly before I went off to the Navy, one of the aforementioned matches broke out between my father and me, during the course of which he broke two or three fingers on his hand. He didn’t go to the doctor, and never told my mom. It was not quite clear what he broke, but he sure broke something because whenever he held his hand out level, those fingers would just hang down. He soon took to resting his hand on table tops so they wouldn’t hang down quite so obviously.

Now what, you may be thinking, does any of this have to do with the title? A neo-Nazi Godsend? I’m getting to that, give me a minute.

When White Boy Summer first became a thing, I didn’t like it and said so at the time. But what’s not to like? I like summer, and I like white boys fine. What possible harm could come from a little celebratory skylarking and high-jinks from some tousled-headed blond boys, you know, surfing and stuff? Or wearing those, you know, sunglasses? So when it all started, people could just stare at me and my dislikery with a fat face. Was I trying to be a Fuddy? Was I walking around with a pitcher of cold water, looking for somebody’s clam chowder to pour it into? Was I trying to get out ahead of Canon Press’s #boomercringe campaign?

And that was the moment, when everything seemed somewhat bleak, that Samuel Holden came to my rescue with his White Boy Summer video. I was about to die of being misunderstood yet again, but the stars still fight from their courses. You know, against Sisera. Here was my neo-Nazi Godsend. Something snapped, ominously, and all of a sudden my father’s fingers were hanging down. Somebody got hurt. Mother was right. Again.

For those who have trouble with reading comprehension, and the recent controversy indicates that this number might not be a small one, in the analogy above, I am the mother who was right. But you might be muttering something like “but who got hurt?” This was only—as Dr. Seuss might have put it—a Twitter Bluster Battle.

What got hurt was the careful work of Reformed men laboring for years against our civic atheism, soldiering through decades of leftist defamation as a result, only to have a pack of aggrieved young anons, who need to read a book sometime, decide that they were going to do whatever they could to demonstrate how the long-standing slanders were not slanders at all. Of course, I exempt from this acerbic charge of mine the FBI men involved, who are just doing their job. And the FBI bots, which have no moral agency.

From sunglasses to a celebration of Aryan hubris . . . that escalated somewhat quickly. But if these guys are right and the conspiratorial Jews are after the white race, then I have good news for them at least. Their task of world conquest is going to be way easier than they thought because the whites that they are up against have some really smooth brain surfaces.

The anon defenders of whiteness are going to lose because all that needs to happen is for the Mossad to leave little puddles of glue around with signs posted that say, “Free glue. Do not huff. Signed, the Joooozzz.”

Revoice for Nazis

Now I do recognize that the WBS video was way back in September, which in Internet years seems like aeons, and so why am I going on about it? The reason is that that video was just the kick-off, and we are still in the same football game, late in the second quarter.

The heroic stance of the video notwithstanding, and the desire to valorize young blond men gazing steely-eyed into the distance, the whole thing remains as gay as the pope’s second best Advent nightgown. We needed young men to return to the robust Westminster faith of their fathers, and what we got was a kick-dancing line in the form of a swastika.

So the issue wasn’t the video all by its lonesome. Somebody can always be counted on to be problematic in that way, and we should always budget for the randos. The problem was the broader purchase it had—how it was retweeted, and how when it became apparent how bad it was, the tendency was to just sidle away from it instead of confronting the infection at the center of it. But you don’t sidle away from something like this. You don’t deal with sepsis by dabbing around the edges (Jer. 6:14).

Controlled Opposition

The secular establishment is decrepit and on its last legs, but we do need to recognize there is still some effective malice in the old girl yet. They still are able to manage and control significant aspects of their opposition. And there are two sorts of controlled opposition that we need to take note of.

The first is the kind that we have gotten used to, with a great example being that of the game preserve for RINOs that we call Congress. They talk a great game at the Lincoln Day dinners, and their glossy stock campaign brochures all have phrases like “core conservative values” on them. But every genuine conservative observer knows that their voting record is a joke. On every issue that matters, they can be counted on to fold like they were entered in an origami contest. So they are ostensibly opposed to the left, on paper, but their bark, which is worse than their bite, is not that much of a bark either. In the Christian scene, this would be David French territory.

But the other kind of controlled opposition is what might be called the unhinged opposition. These are the kind of people whose idea of owning the libs is to act in exactly the way libs would love for their opposition to act. And when the commies can’t find useful idiots to perform this function for free, they can always round up some of their FBI boys to march in the kind of Nazi parade that looks like it was ordered fresh from CostCo. Small bits of the foam packing material is still stuck to their creased khakis. But they are on payroll . . . and I am trying to talk about the idiot volunteers.

The left said that Trump was literally Hitler. America said “what a joke,” and elected him anyhow. The anons argued that it was not enough to say joke, it was somehow necessary to become the joke, and started to work on the choreography of their kick-dancing. Joe and Mika were breathing into paper bags over the prospect of Literal Hitler being elected, and now that he is to be the next president they traveled to Mar a Lago to “open communications” with Literal Hitler. This of course revealed that their whole line of accusation was nothing but progressive balloon juice, and so this is the moment when a bunch of people on the right decided it was time to start shouting, “No, no! It really is Literal Hitler! And that’s a good thing! Listen to uuussssss!”

This is yet one more example of professing Christians saying to the world, “Anything you guys can do, we can do five years later and a lot worse.” Right when the world got really tired of cancel culture swarms, these guys have tried to pick up the tactic. They like to pretend that they stand against “cancel culture,” but they are simply the right wing iteration of cancel culture. They swarm just like the Twitter Left used to do before Elon pulled out his credit card. Just watch. I am going to leave the comments open on this post. Leave it be for a couple of hours, and then come back and take a look. They can’t help themselves—but I’ll turn the comments off again if it gets too rancid. A.D. Robles simply mentioned that he and I had talked, and they went after him.

Unfortunately, some do not see through this, and are cowed by it. If they were to forthrightly condemn the brain leprosy of actual fascism, the anons might take it ill. The anons might say that they “have buckled.” The cry goes forth in the corridors of cyber anonymity. “He must have kissed somebody’s ring!” This is the kind of thing that should just be answered with some folk wisdom.

“They say! What say they? Let them say.”

The key to longevity and survival in a time like this is to care very much what God thinks (2 Tim. 2:15), and to not care even a little bit what malevolent carpers think. So if you have profited very much over the years from Canon material, and you have loved Canon+, but it grieves you deeply that you have come to believe we have been taken over by Zionists, you may be eligible for a free Unsubscribe tee-shirt.

Revoice for Nazis

One reply might be that this is not a matter of cowardice. Rather, it is missional. Let’s call it outreach.

Some might say that they do not share the disaffection of the young, restless, and racist, but that they do understand it. Their hearts go out to these guys. They believe that if they just come alongside and put their arm around them, they could quite possibly bring them around. But bring them around to what? Right wing squish that cannot denounce a plain evil? Because of what some anonymous someone might say?

Yeah, a bunch of these young men have really been burnt, and badly worked over. They have been grievously disappointed in life, and your idea of a grand plan is to disappoint them yet again? These young men are aggrieved because they are disillusioned by all the lies they have been told, and you are going to fix it with some more lies?

No, Really. What Will the Anons Say?

A few months ago, Will Spencer stepped on a rake when he interviewed someone from Stone Choir. He was quickly notified of the background bile that he had not known about, took his video down immediately, and promptly apologized. He then followed up with some great content on the whole topic that showed a real mastery of the subject. I do not bring this up to poke at a sore spot, but rather to laud Will Spencer’s integrity and obvious courage.

When something like this happens, and a correction has to be made, a proud young man would not want to acknowledge any need for correction or the fact that the need for a correction had been suggested to him. When he addressed the problem the honest way he did, Spencer was taunted by those who said that he had clearly “gotten a call.” Somebody in Official Narrative Headquarters was clearly punching buttons and pulling levers, and getting the monkey to dance. Or so the wild speculation would have it, and wilder speculation thought it was me who made the call, which I didn’t.

But what would you rather? Would you rather be a man and be called a tool? Or be a tool and be called a man?

No, wait. Let’s make it a bit richer. What if the people calling you speculative names are all anons? You know, someone whose handle is @WhiteStallionBeast, but who works the night shift at a convenience store, and has a patient mail order bride who takes wonderful care of their mixed race “deficiencies.” For her part, she takes a tolerant view of his online hobby. Some men collect stamps, and others paint saw blades. And then there are those who save the white race from extinction. Is he the man whose favor you must curry?

Someone might say that I am being way too dismissive of these anons. The objector happens to know one of them, and he is not a dunce. “He is intelligent and well-read.” Yeah, well, I am not talking about him then. That is the glorious thing about fighting with anons. Every blow lands somewhere. And besides all that, he might not actually be intelligent. He might just be a dumb person’s idea of what a smart person looks like.

So in this latest go around, there are a number of men who have stepped on a rake, but instead of imitating the courage of Will Spencer and just owning it, they have resorted to a creative renaming of the welts on their foreheads. My personal favorite is the post-war consensus.

Our Book Giveaways

The new title today (and through the 24th) is George Gilder’s Men and Marriage. Check it out here.

And one of the Canon titles being given away (Nov. 18-22) is my wife’s book, Learning Contentment. Before writing this book, Nancy had spent a number of years teaching women’s book studies through some great Puritan titles on the topic, such as Burrough’s Rare Jewel, and Watson’s All Things for Good. This book is a distillation of that sort of classic wisdom, translated for modern women.

And in my Mablog shoppe, I am now giving away:
21 Prayers for Pastors on the Lord’s Day.
Letters of Marital Counsel, found here.
Proof as Moral Obligation
No Artificial Tweeteners
And new today . . .
Some Adventures of Fun Dad