Wherever a Western flag is flying, there’s a crowd out there, waiting. Just waiting…
They see right through you. For them, white skin means weak convictions. They know how weak yours are, they know you’ve given in…
The world is controlled, so it seems, not by a single specific conductor, but by a new apocalyptic beast, a kind of anonymous, omnipresent monster, and one that, in some primordial time, must have vowed to destroy the Western World. The beast has no set plan. It seizes whatever occasions arise.
