Today's Neo-Nazis Have No Respect For Tradition

Karl Quandt

The other week, I read that the founder of the National Vanguard is in the clink for having child pornography in his computer. What is going on with today's white nationalists? Here it is, 2007, and global Aryan supremacy is no closer to becoming a reality than it was 60 years ago. I lay the blame squarely on the shoulders of this new generation. These kids today are making a disgrace of neo-Nazism.

In my day, it wasn't just about mindless hate—we hated because we stood for something. Namely, tradition, discipline, and self-respect: values that these low-life punks have no comprehension of whatsoever. We exalted our glorious forebears, in Germany as well as the United States. But who today remembers the great American neo-Nazi leaders like George Lincoln Rockwell or Matt Koehl? Who honors the great heroes and martyrs of the National Socialist White People's Party?


It's enough to make me ashamed to be a neo-Nazi.

You can't just call yourself the Master Race—you have to act like it, and hold yourself to a higher standard than those you despise and wish to exterminate. Have you seen the way these kids dress? Their idea of a "uniform" is a T-shirt and combat boots. The rural militias are even worse, with their filthy fatigues and long hair and beer guts. Excuse me, but I hardly think hillbilly rejects are what our great Führer had in mind when he dreamed of a world filled with Aryan supermen. I wouldn't even let them in my front door, let alone conspire with them to blow up a synagogue.


Don't these people have any white pride?

And don't get me started on the whole "skinhead" thing. What idiot came up with that idea? When everybody's bald, you can't even tell who's blond. Back in the '70s, we combed our hair neatly, wore starched, pressed brown shirts, and polished our jackboots until you could use them as mirrors. We always looked presentable, even when beating up Mexican migrant workers or sending hate mail to Jewish leaders. And if there was an organizational meeting, by golly, you showed up for it. If you were given a task, you did it: Those leaflets didn't pass themselves out.


Of course, that was back when being a neo-Nazi still meant something. Evidently, the neo-Nazis of today think that all you need to do to keep the fires of white nationalism burning is to carve a swastika on your chest or strap an armband around the sleeve of a dingy plaid-flannel shirt.

Breaking bottles, overturning garbage cans, spray-painting racial slurs, cranking out hour after mind-numbing hour of that ridiculous punk-rock music—you call that neo-Nazism? When we wanted to relax after a long day of marching in downtown Skokie, we sang good patriotic German anthems like the "Horst Wessel Song."


And the way these kids fight! Where's the skill? Sure, in the glory days of the 1930s, the Nazis doled out their fair share of beatings against the defenseless. But they did it with a little thing called "class." Watching these kids throw drunken punches and thrash around like netted trout in their mosh pits, I'd be shocked if more than three of them could even goose-step in a straight line. They couldn't make a train run on time if their lives depended on it, let alone conceive the V-2 rocket or Zyklon B.

I'll tell you one other thing—we weren't parked on our butts typing away on the Internet all day in some dank room surrounded by empty beer cans. We were at our remote Montana compounds, enjoying the rugged outdoors. We went on nature hikes, built huge bonfires, and held daily target practice so we'd be ready for the coming race war. All these nerds today want to do is make Web videos decrying the Zionist agenda. That reminds me—if you're going to appear online, the least you can do is shave. And if you must tattoo an eagle with an iron cross in its talons across your back, put on a shirt, for crying out loud. Tattoos aren't anything to brag about. Tattoos are for inking numbers on the forearms of Jews.


I also hear that when these kids are in prison, they spend their time sodomizing each other. Why, when we were in prison, we took advantage of our extra time to write manifestos and memorize The Turner Diaries. Buggery was the furthest thing from our mind—we saved our essence for propagating the white race when we got out.

I suppose this new generation will probably call me an old geezer, just because I still believe in putting on a tie before giving the Hitler salute. But damn it, if we can't live up to the values that made Nazism great, we might as well just not have any neo-Nazi movement at all.


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