His time in Poondong was coming to an end. He had already booked a return flight back home when he ran into Rodney, a skeletal and middle-aged ex-heroin addict from England, who awakened him to the existence of the Pure Land of Bliss. He was sitting in a bar growing more morose by the pint when Rodney sat down opposite him. Earlier that evening, he had made the mistake of checking out what his old friends were now doing on social media. Most of them were married. They had started their own businesses. They were homeowners. They had left Poondong years ago. As much as he hated himself, it couldn’t compare with the contempt he felt for washed-up blowhards like Rodney. But because he had no respect for them and their opinions, he felt he could speak honestly in their company.

Listen mate, said Rodney, this is the best place for a young man like yourself.  There’s nothing for you to go home to. My country’s full of Muslims and Darkies. America is no different. The women are slags. It was nice to know that Rodney was a racist. They usually were. He was a racist too.

A few days before he was due to fly out, he encountered Rodney again, this time in front of a brothel. Rodney began telling him about how much more based the Southeast Asians were compared with brainwashed Whites back home. They’re collectivists, mate. They look after their own, he said, while haggling for a nine-year-old. They still respect tradition.

Seven minutes later, back on the noisy and filthy street, Rodney redpilled him on Pure Land Racism. Listen, mate, he said. I understand how you’re feeling lately, but don’t let the Blackpillers get you down. Our victory is already secured. The Ethnostate already exists and nothing the AmNats do can change that.  Listen carefully: all you have to do is repeat the 14 words. Repeat the 14 words over and over again while picturing Hitler and the Ethnostate; nothing else is necessary.  You don’t need to read any books, not even the books of Adolf Hitler and David Duke. You don’t need to work out. You don’t need to get a job or get involved with grassroots politics. Just say the 14 words. Post them in comment sections, post them on Twitter. There’s nothing more to it. Say the 14 words and become awakened. Do that and you’re guaranteed a place in the Ethnostate. Close your eyes, mate, and picture this: an Ethnostate without Jews and Darkies. Without Roasties and Coalburners. Without AmNats and Blackpillers. Every Awakened Aryan Man like yourself will live in an een forever. I’m totally serious; detached house made entirely of gold. His picket fence will be made of gold too. Upon entry into the Ethnostate, Adolf Hitler himself will present you with a Tradwife who will remain fertile and 14 forever. Imagine a 1950’s hot dog commercial; imagine living in that world forever without debt or death. Here, we call it the Ethnostate; there, they call it the Pure Land of Bliss. It’s yours for the taking.

Having spoken, Rodney vanished into thin air.

Back home, things were even bleaker than he anticipated. Despite his many years of experience in ESL, he couldn’t find a job. But just when he was on the verge of listening to the advice of a federal agent who had been grooming him on Discord, he read on the TRS forums about a retreat founded in the Northwest by a group of ethno-nationalists. It was a place where wholesome Aryan families could live, work, and eat together in a co-op system far from the pernicious influence of Jewish capitalism. He abandoned his belongings, renounced his family ties, and headed northwest.

He was surprised by the amount of Latin Americans at the retreat and disappointed by the noticeable lack of women. All of the permanent residents were single men. To their embarrassment, the only woman there was a fat, schizophrenic, and middle-aged Indonesian women who cooked for them, because none of the residents knew how to cook, let alone grow food. No one ever listened to her, but she claimed to be both a Salafist Muslim and an Esoteric Hitlerist. There were no Aryan children and no wheat fields.

Day and night, the residents dedicated themselves to chanting the 14 words. He chanted for weeks and months without result, but he never lost heart, because he knew that with enough repetitions he would eventually experience a vision of Hitler and a glimpse of the Ethnostate in all its glory. When he received word that Rodney had hanged himself in a cell in a Southeast Asian prison, he felt relief  knowing that Rodney was already there in the Pure Land of Bliss and soon enough, he’d join him. The looming prospect of permanent escape made the temporary humiliation of life under ZOG less unbearable.

These were the thoughts going through his head the night the Indonesian women entered his sleeping bag. Mein Führer, let me be your Savitri Devi, she panted. The stink of cigarettes on her breath rested heavy on his face like a pair of big, sweaty testicles. We must secure the existence of our people and a future for White children, we must secure the existence of our people and a future for White children, we must secure the existence of our people and a future for White children, he thought to himself as she jammed his semi-flaccid penis between her soggy, bulbous cunt lips.