Walking With Death

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The other day on a long walk I came upon a dead deer lying across the sidewalk that must have been recently hit by a car. The animal was lying stretched out, as is always the case for some reason, head and neck arched back with one big brown eye looking up innocently at anyone who came upon it. There is a sadness in the look of a dead deer, even when the death comes at your hands. Despite this reality, millions of deer hunters are preparing for the coming season.

On my way back I saw a couple of older boys, maybe even their late teens, looking at the animal from a distance. They took turns taking pics of each other in front of it, always from a safe distance, as if they thought the animal would roar back to life and attack them for some reason. Even at a distance, it was clear it disturbed them. As I approached, they warned me that there was a dead deer in my path, which suggested this was a novel experience for them.

A few moments of banter between us confirmed that they had never seen a dead animal this close. At first that seemed unbelievable, but they probably spend most of their days inside playing games or in controlled experiments we call school, so the odds of seeing anything in nature are low. At that age, their experience with death is their character dying in a video game. There are no sad lifeless eyes looking up at them in whatever game is popular at the moment.

Of course, there is no youth hunting to speak of in the built-up areas, so it is unlikely those two young men will experience death that way. In the United States only about five percent of young people hunt. The numbers around urban areas on the coasts are probably so small that it cannot be measured. There are more males under the age of sixteen who identify as trans now than those who hunt. Those two young men are less disturbed by crossdressing than they are by death.

Much of what we call progress in the last three centuries has been about insulating ourselves from the reality of the human condition, especially death. Few people know where food comes from or how it is possible. There is a growing sense among the urbanized populations that what they call meat is a crime against Gaia, in the same way that your car is an offense to the mother goddess. Fake meat exists to exploit this growing unawareness of the cycle of life.

We are not far from the point in science fiction where humans who reach their expiration date mysteriously disappear, sent off to the recycling plant. One day Uncle Bob is struggling up the stairs and the next day no one talks about Uncle Bob. He was picked up and loaded into a wagon overnight. Rich people are racing to find the magic elixir that will let them avoid death or at least stay young until the end, because progress means reaching a point when we overcome death.

There is a good chance that the present lunacy is made possible by the apparent insulation so many feel from the reality of the human condition. In a world where the consequences of flouting nature are brutal and personal, one must respect the reality of the human condition and pass that respect onto the next generation. The man with a son makes sure his son learns the reality of death at a young age, usually by having his son take the life of an animal hunting or farming.

In an age where life and death are abstract concepts, there is no need to think about it, much less talk about it with the next generation. This removes the essential element for understanding the arc of life, especially the arc of your life. When you see every day that all living things have an end, often a brutal end, you can understand that life is a beginning, middle and end. Since the middle part is the only bit you can control, you never lose sight of it as it is how you will be judged in the end.

Death has another value that we have lost. It is the thing that binds people together in the common struggle of life. When every man is aware of the death sentence that was issued to him at birth, he is keenly aware of the death sentence that hangs over his family, his neighbors, and his community. Just as he must struggle every day to reach that predetermined end point, he must struggle with his family and neighbors in order to give the next generation the chance for their struggle.

For most of human existence, the answer to the great question – who are we? – was answered every week at a funeral or execution. That last bit is something lost to the mists of time, but it was an essential element of social life. The punishment of the guilty was part of the glue that held society together. The condemned was not just hurried away like Uncle Bob but brought before his neighbors to be expelled from the life of society in the most extreme way possible.

The public execution had another value. As Joseph de Maistre observed, the executioner absolves the condemned man of his sins and sends him out of this life as an innocent man. At the moment of death, the price is paid and at that second, he moves from guilty to innocent. His last gasp takes all of his sins with him. It is not the executioner who has absolved the condemned. The executioner is the agent, the tool through which the community acts to cleanse itself of sin.

In this way, familiarity with death brings familiarity with life and sin. The former comes easy, but the latter must be relearned almost daily. When life, your life, has a clear end and that end can come in a variety of ways, those ways provide a different sense of purpose to each life. The purpose of the man swinging from a rope is different from the man dying to defend his people. Death provides clarity about purpose and therefore clarity about the crimes against that purpose.

All of this is lost in the modern age. Few young men will ever hold in their hands the still warm, but lifeless body of an animal. They will never see the executioner perform his duty to his people. Death is an abstraction. The closest people get to it is through the unreality of the digital world. In that realm, death is a problem to be overcome, while in the physical world it is a thing that no longer exists, because it is just assumed that one day, before your last day, death will be overcome.

In a world of that sort of certainty, there is no reason to think about the purpose of life or the crimes one should avoid committing against that purpose. In a world full of people with no purpose other than momentary pleasure, the society in which they operate must be a sterile playground. Anything with meaning must be stripped away as it could lead to unpleasant thoughts about the lack of meaning and purpose. To defeat death, we must first defeat any notion that there is a meaning to life.

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166 thoughts on “Walking With Death

  1. Since de Maistre was a Catholic he would have believed that it was Confession and absolution that save the executed, not the actual execution.

  2. Hey Z! You forgot to start with the disclaimer, “Warning: This article contains descriptions of extreme unpleasantness.”
    I barely made it to the fainting couch! Please be more careful next time.

  3. “The graveyards are full of indispensable men.” – Charles de Gaulle.
    “You are born, you die, and the rest is just filler.” – Lou Grant.
    “That life is worth living is the most necessary of assumptions, but, were it not assumed, the most impossible of conclusions.” – George Santayana.

    I watched my mother go from a vigorous and energetic 71-year old woman weighing 160 pounds, to a 68-pd bag of rotting flesh in ten months. Pancreatic cancer. I was with her when she died. All she had left was a squeeze of the hand and a wink to me, like she was saying, “it’s all good, I love you, and this shit is over.” It breaks my heart 27 years later. I told dad, “mom’s gone”. Thirty minutes later the undertaker was there to certify the death and throw what was left of mom into a bag. And that was that.

    Twenty-four years later I went through the same experience with my wife of 33 years; stage 4 breast cancer. Trying to keep her mouth wet as she hyper-ventilated for four days, literally drying out like some sponge left in the sunshine.

    And you ask yourself: Why am I still here? Does any of this suffering mean anything?

    Answer: I don’t know.

    • It isn’t so much that we don’t see death [we see a lot of it in snuff videos and movies], it’s that we don’t live with the threat and reality of death as closely as in the past. Visit any graveyard with tombstones from 1790 to 1890. There are as many grave of infants and children dead from disease, young women dead from childbirth, and young men killed in wars as there are folks who died of old age. Today we can all reasonably plan to live to decrepitude.

  4. “ Much of what we call progress in the last three centuries has been about insulating ourselves from the reality of the human condition,”

    Ernst Junger who despised Liberalism above all, wrote about this extensively, and said yet the Elemental returns, to the moderns horror.

    And so it will. So it does…

      • Fair enough, definitely doesn’t hold a candle.

        I will say, I think Basquiat had a massive talent, but he never bothered to train it, and in fact was more or less paid to stay primitive. You can see in his later work that he wanted to be a serious artist, but he couldn’t do it.

        That he depicts himself (I think it’s a self-portrait) in the place of the Whore of Babylon per da Vinci (woman with a cup— I’m assuming), ripping off and vulgarizing a Western master as he does it— pretty scathing stuff. I imagine he was coming to terms with his own life’s purpose, and not enjoying it.

  5. Spending two weeks in a room shepherding a dying parent through their final journey brings you real up close and personal with death. I am much more Epicurean now.

    • Indeed it does, indeed it does . . . seeing one’s parent depart changes a person that’s for sure. Life becomes both sadder, somehow sharper on witnessing death, free for a time from worrying about the everyday.

      Another change that Z could mention, people no longer die at home, nor do the departed remain in the front room, resting for a spell in a coffin for the family to mourn as once the case. Instead, its off to the hospital, with all that institution’s insults to human dignity.

  6. Dead squirrel in the road, with cigarette butt dangling from its mouth.

    Some wag thought that would be funny, and he was right. People laughed and moved on.

  7. This reminds me of when we had to put our last pooch down. Her health had been declining and one day she just quit eating and would stand around and stare. Both my wife and I were adamant that we’d not take her to the vet and have her carted off to an incinerator, or whatever they do with them. We found a vet who would come out to the house and administer the shots and I dug her a grave on our property. He was kind and gentle and told us what to expect with the couple of doses he gave her. It was sad, but painless and she was in her favorite bed with us at her side and I can visit her anytime I want…

    I think the defacto abolition of the death penalty is a huge mistake, but typical of this worthless society. I guess it’s probably been a hundred years or so since public executions were all but done away with. People should see what happens when and why someone is “put down” and families of the victim need to see retribution or justice served even though it won’t bring the loved one back – I sure as hell would.

    I’ve found myself wondering more these days, as the years pile on, what I’ll do if I find dementia or some other cognitive aberration creeping in. Will I take action to end the inevitable before I no longer can? I watched it happen to my mother and now her sister and I sure as hell don’t want to go down that road…

    • If we’re drawing on the shared wisdom of people everyone should know that suicide is a grevious sin that in most traditional christianity damns a soul (because it is an unrepentant murder and also rejection of God’s authority over life and death). Suicide was not romanticized and perpetrators were not buried with others in the community or at a church.

      Stigmas exist for reasons both practical and metaphysical and they protect both individuals and society. We all talk a lot about stigmas against faggotry and the rest but this is not the only one. We need to accept the entirety of the moral law.

      • Acceptance of death, as and when it comes, and in whatever form, is the ultimate peace. We are put here on this earth to live, and to live our fullest lives, but we are ultimately here to die and move on to another plane of existence. I choose to believe that plane of existence is how my ancestors envisioned it, and that I’ll join them some day.

  8. I visited the city I was born in (but haven’t visited in 35 years) this summer and was pleased to discover an uncle and his sister both in their 90s are still alive. I had lost touch with them. We met for lunch and it was very nice. They are both still mentally sharp. My 93 year old Uncle still works full-time as a CPA. He doesn’t need to still work but it gives him a sense of still being an active part of this world which is important to him.

    I asked them about death, if they ever feel they have lived long enough and want to die. They both passionately answered that no they don’t want to die. That’s normal and healthy for anyone to think that way but I found it interesting that their response was no different in tone than someone much younger who has a lot of life ahead of them. I then asked if they would like to live forever and they both said no. I would guess as much as most people dread the idea of death, living forever sounds even more unattractive.

  9. We are the all singing, all dancing crap of the world. Made up of “crude matter” that will decay and disintegrate. Major bummer.

    What bothers me about death is to all that NOTHINGNESS entails. You’re not asleep, you’re gone and and you didn’t even know that you were. FOREVER!

    No one can wrap their head around this, so best not thought about too long. Only comfort is that we were all dead for billions of years before we were born and it wasn’t so bad (I think).

    From a religious standpoint, the point of life is to die. One most cultivate the soul during the trials of life so it reaches a good resting place at the end w/God.

    Knowledge of death if also important to have to you’re not stuck in the illusion of an eternal present. You have to understand there is a time limit and you need to fill-in the beginning, middle, and end. Life isn’t some sitcom where everything stays the same and you can just spend your life a juvenile looking at funny videos on your phone.

    The rich trying to be immortal will still be dead forever one day. It’s always the same old story of the promise that “ye shall be as gods.” I get it, though. Who wouldn’t want to be more vital for a longer time. If I were billionaire I’d be peeved that I would die in the same timeframe and cause as a bunch of Joe Schmoes.

    • In my world, as a sometime regression hypnotist exploring people’s past lives, the soul is immortal and each life is, by itself, insignificant..So I don’t worry about death, although I don’t intentionally court it…

  10. The way of death that will become very commonplace in the years to come is people dying alone in their homes and not being found for weeks or months, or eaten by their cats. And when they are found, there often won’t be anyone (other than the state) to deal with the remains. Thus will be the passing of a large portion of (at least) a couple generations of white people. This is in accordance with The Plan, since they will have left no offspring, and the AINO landmass gets browner.

    A great many/most of them will be unable to afford care homes, the price of which continues to skyrocket, unless the state steps in to pay for that with fedbucks. Which appears doubtful at this time. So you could picture single elderly people forming death watch clubs, to check on each other and make sure they are still breathing, since nobody else will.

  11. I often thought about death as a child. I imagened her as a beautiful mistress of the great beyond that would guide me in my purpose. Show me how to truly live. As a young adult I never had that great moment of proving myself to the ‘village’. Becoming a man was just going to work and paying taxes. Of course, drugs, sex and the occaisional drunk fight due to some bimbo bitch. But I never felt a part of something bigger, just a lukewarm lube for the economic machine. All these modern comforts have just slowly dehumenized me.. I wanted death to come so badly and yet feared it so much at the same time. Now, I’m more indifferent than anything. A man not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.

  12. On a related topic, but it 100% is relevant is the total lack of danger sense modern “people” have.

    This is because when death or even violence is only a vidya game thing or from your superhero movies, then what danger are you really in??

    I had the unfortunate need to be in Baltimore City recently, a place I avoid like the plague for obvious reasons. We just had a recent “reality meets your fantasy world” incident there with some white lefty woman who was a “strong DEI ally” and lover of BLM bludgeoned to death in her apartment. This is a prime example of that naivete they all suffer from.

    I fucking marvel walking around there at the Eloi like nature of the white people I see in, and younger white women in particular. They just stroll around the streets utterly obliviously because nothing bad really happens, right? They don’t generally consume anything but social media so are blissfully unaware of the amount of violence that ‘yoofs’ inflict upon white people.

    I walked about 10 blocks and saw roving packs of feral ‘teens’ wandering around with nothing to do, street people shuffling aimlessly, and mixed into all this are these young white women who just casually stroll past these people like they have invisible shields or something. It is fucking bananas. I can guarantee you that at least 1-3 of those ‘teens” has a pistol tucked into their waist under their shirts, it isn’t even a question. Half of ’em are openly smoking weed because you can now. It is an environment where you’d want to keep your head on a swivel.

    But here comes Becky, Jen, Taylor, and all the rest just grrl bossing their way down the street as if they are wearing a force field that somehow protects them. It is so surreal and perhaps the darkest part is, I could care less if any one of them was brutally savaged because they VOTE for BLM crap, diversity, soft on crime BS, DEI at work, etc. It is a self correcting problem in large part but it doesn’t make it any less fascinating to me to see literal Eloi walking among Morlocks. At least H.G. Wells wrote that book with the idea that the Morlocks were tucked safely away underground and would just occasionally snatch an Eloi which they saw as the price to be paid for society. Here, they co-mingle!

    And the clueless lefty virtue signalers will at least die knowing they are not rayciss! The parents of the girl that was just murdered, they VERY first thing they did at the news conference, like so many others, was to tell everyone to not make this racial, and she spent her life fighting for social justice, blah blah bunch of bullshit. You cannot help people like that. They will –gladly– sacrifice their lives and the lives of their children because the brainwashing is that deep. Don’t waste your time. Salvage the salvageable, leave those ones to their pets.

    • Young urban leftists usually have enough street sense to avoid danger, so they don’t need to be worried. White conservatives are the opposite — constantly riddled with fear, which makes them an easier target.

      • Oh my sweet summer child, you don’t get out much do you? You need to actually WALK AROUND instead of just spitting up your stupid talking points. They are clueless and wander around as such.

        “Street sense” and ‘young urban leftists’ AKA bugmen shouldn’t be used in the same sentence. They are antonyms.

        Yes those grrlboss biz suit or yoga pants wearing white women are street smart to the core! Nigga please…

        • Thank you Apex! So true!! The lefties I knew in the Bay Area were absolute truculent, pig-headed eloi sheep. (A friend got mugged walking from an A’s game to car. Suggested to keep her head on a swivel and notice who did it, and she just roared back she was never going to change and think like me. Determined to die, that one.) Been around the “Don’t think bad thoughts or you will draw them to you” crowd for many years. Now I live in southern Mormonland, full of LoveEverybodyandNeverJudge sheep. Chrikey! Judging is the key to survival. They have no survival instinct either. So different from lefties and yet all are sheep. I was once a young, stupid, ignorant, uber-hubrised leftie UNTIL I worked in downtown Oakland driving through Huey Newton’s old neighborhood, and faced three close encounters with death at the hands of the vibrant ones! Sure as shit taught me a thing or two when I was surrounded on BART by a gang of young vibrant thugs threatening me with death. I thought I would die and knew I would fight like a tiger on the way out. My hand was ready in place to rip his nuts off if he made a move. I moved in nose-to-nose close and whispered ever so softly, “Don’t start! Today is a good day to die!” You have to be ready and mean it. I must have looked crazy. They backed off, woofing and barking, yet they left.

          Recently bought an old copy of “The Gift of Fear: Survival Signals the Protect Us from Violence” by Gavin de Becker. “True fear is a gift. Unwarranted fear is a curse. Learn how to tell the difference.” Worth studying. Armor up!

    • Indeed, that is often the case, making one wonder whether many whites have any intact survival instincts…

  13. Thank you, Zman and commentariat, for some thought-provoking reading. It seems I am somewhat unusual in that – soon to be 65 – I’ve never actually seen a dead body or sat at anyone’s death bed. I was hundreds or thousands of miles away when loved ones and even family pets died. I’ve never been to an open casket funeral. I can think of two acquaintances from high school who died at graduation time. I didn’t think I was particularly sheltered but compared to my husband and even my older son, I have no experience with death.

    I don’t fear death – at least I don’t think I do, not consciously. I fear pain and suffering and helplessness. I fear heart-rending grief if one of my loved ones were to die before me. I fear for the future of my children.

    But I don’t fear some great void or torment when my body gives out; rather I see it as a laying down of burdens. I suppose I will learn more of death in the coming years, and hope I deal with it with equanimity; I do regard it as a natural part of life. We should fear judgment and justice weighed purely on our own merits – I believe God’s grace has granted me a reprieve from that fate. Again, only time will tell.

    • I’m getting up there, too. I’m not exactly afraid to die, but I am apprehensive.

      It’s like the feeling I had the first time I asked out a girl, “I dunno about this! I never tried it before. How’s this gonna work out?”.

      I am somewhat comforted by the knowledge that everyone who was ever born has died or will die (as far as I know). Given that most of them weren’t particularly talented, how hard can it be?

    • I don’t relish the pain and fright that goes with dying.

      And I will definitely be thinking, “Damn! The party’s going on without me!”

  14. I think that hunting and fishing should be compulsory in a young person’s education, even some farm work. I think there is a lot of opportunity for home schooling networks to incorporate men with these skills and people with adequate properties and resources to make this happen.

    This post addresses the plebs distance from death and the reality of traditional masculine competencies. Worse than the plebs distance is the distance of the ruling regime’s denizons from such activities. Not only is it to our detriment, it is also to the advantage of future generations of people wise enough to adopt the education activities I suggested.

    • My kid‘s snotty prep school had an attached farm- the kids had to do their rotation there. It was a good thing

    • A#1. It all changed when we stopped the kids from working or doing farm work in the summer. That was training practice to become adults.

      FFA (Future Farmers of America) should be required, the summer harvest seasons reinstated. Even city kids in Connecticut were out picking blueberries, having adventures away from home.

      The practical skills- home ec, carpentry, target practice, auto shop, music, even welding- were given up so we could integrate savages, third-worlders, and unionize stupid women.

    • “I think that hunting and fishing should be compulsory in a young person’s education, even some farm work”

      The problem of course is that if everyone hunted, fished and farmed in a nation of 330 million the game would be wiped out in a year. even by 1900 or so game was disappearing and people were leaving farms for better-paying lives in cities — and the population was only 80 million.

      There’s been a huge resurgence of animals since the 1970s due to urbanization and the dearth of hunters — deer, turkey, fox, coyote, geese and eagles have all proliferated since then. They were all rather scarce 50 years ago.

      • I acknowledge your resurgent game statistics, but whenever I go hunt those MF elk and deer, they are insanely hard to find!

        (I kid, a bit. People who don’t hunt don’t appreciate the level of skill and dedication to wack Bambi’s mother. Especially when you spice it up a bit with a bow.)

  15. Since, at one point, Z’s reflections on death provoked some responses mentioning pets and children, I would like to tell an anecdote pertinent to these three subjects. Long long ago, when my oldest son now bumping 70 was about three or four, we had a pet chicken, rescued from a hatchery where one was being pecked to death by the others, the way chickens do. We took the fluff of misery home where it became a proud fat hen laying a nice warm egg for the three year old’s breakfast every morning. Then it died; no jeremiads – it was a different age and a different culture – I picked it up and threw it in the garbage can. The small boy watching murmured (sagaciously I thought), will you do that with me when I die, Mama? Ever since then our pets have had formal and serious and enjoyable funerals. I am 92 and the place was Pointe-a-Pierre, Trinidad, BWI …

    • If I buried every chicken that didn’t end up in the freezer in a grave, my back yard would look like Arlington National Cemetery. Birds just die, they’re not particularly resilient critters.

      That’s part of the point of the post, I think. The idea that every critter gets funerary rights, never mind the same level of respect, is bemusing if you understand the true scale of death in the world. A chicken? Chickens are food, and if they’re not doing food, they’re waste. Put it in a bag and toss it in the trash. The modern ‘murican causes a couple “chickens” to die every week (protip: the goyslop you eat from the grocery chain actually isn’t a chicken, it’s an Eraserhead-level inter-species crossbreed). No NPC bugman has ever put a meat bird in a restraining cone and cut a jugular, or would even know what that means, or how to do it.
      And the teachable moment there was that we are masters of the beasts of the field; the master is not treated the same as a beast. And yes, ultimately, we all return to dust.

  16. The first time I had to shoot a horse really stuck with me. Horses live big lives in multiple respects; they’re huge, majestic beasts, they live a long time — 30-35 years isn’t that uncommon these days — and for horse people, we have relationships with them like people do with dogs. I’ve got just one horse now who could potentially outlive me. Others I know I’m going to be seeing go in a few years or so, and that I’m probably going to have to do it. I already think about “Will I get another, and how old, knowing I could die before he does?”

    Death makes you appreciate life. I have a young Australian Shepherd now, about a year and a half old. The last of my other herd dogs passed away about 2 and a half years ago and it took me about a year to be ready for another. Aussies are … a lot. My daughter sometimes gets annoyed with her exuberance and the amount of mischief she makes, but I look at her and I see the future and I know that ten or twelve years from now I’d give about anything to have her be like she is now for just one more day. “Ten or twelve years” comes faster every year.

    You get older and you see a lot of death and you see the life and death of everything laid out before you.

    • I had a long term girlfriend who was an equestrian. She had a horse that had gotten tangled up in a fence and as horse’s often do, they panic sometimes to their own detriment.

      The horse was thrashing around in the sharp wire and literally sliced his leg all apart. By the time they got to him the infection had turned him septic so the horse vet said it would be a mercy to put him down otherwise he’d just slowly and painfully die.

      I was in my mid-20s when this happened, I had seen dead and dying animals but I wasn’t totally prepared for watching that horse die. To her defense my GF insisted she be the one to give the animal a -massive- syringe full of heartstopping potassium chloride. Watching it wobble around unsteadily for a few seconds and hit the ground was traumatic for me. She was inconsolable obviously, and then they brought up a flat bed, chained the animals legs, and dragged it off behind the truck. I’d never seen anything like this before or since. It was a bit surreal and stuck with me forever.

      Pets dying is one thing, a 1600lb “pet” a very loved companion was something few people experience.

    • […]I look at her and I see the future and I know that ten or twelve years from now I’d give about anything to have her be like she is now for just one more day.

      And I’d trade all of my tomorrows
      For one single yesterday


  17. The essay resulted in my thinking of the question Job posed long ago (14:14) – If a man die, shall he live again?
    Seems cloud people are determined to avoid the question, or are determined not to die, or are determined to make life sufficiently miserable for dirt people that they want to die and…decrease the surplus population.

    • Stranger in a Strange Land: “Seems cloud people are determined to avoid the question, or are determined not to die, or are determined to make life sufficiently miserable for dirt people that they want to die and…decrease the surplus population.”


      I don’t want to hijack this into a v@xxine thread, but it’s abundantly obvious now [with this deluge of new studies which deconstruct & reverse-engineer the v@xxines] that the Globalist Depopulationists were deadly serious [no pun intended] when they erected the Georgia Guidestones.

      1) Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature.

      2) Guide reproduction wisely – improving fitness and diversity.

      Furthermore, the Depopulationists were smart enough to engineer the v@xxines to sterilize & k!ll normies just slowly enough so that Joe Normie wouldn’t realize that he & his kin were dying decades earlier than they should have died.

      Likely nothing can be done about it now.

      [Peter McCullough has a new firm, called “The Wellness Company”, which is peddling a couple of products that might be able to offer some help with the Spike Proteins & the Myocarditis, but admittedly it’s a long shot. A very very long shot.]

      At this point, I fear the Die is Cast.

      Alea iacta est.

      As always, when I make these White-Fertility pleas, I implore muh Pure-B100ded White Bachelor Bros: The very moment you cross paths with an un-v@xxed Pure-B100ded fertile White womb, you seize it immediately, and make it your own.


      At the rate which our White females are being saturation-v@xxed, Pure-B100ded fertile White wombs are becoming rarer than hens’ teeth.


      Even if it’s just a homely boo-hawg.

      At least it had the smarts to keep itself Pure-B100ded.


      • How much does a JIDF agent get paid to down-vote an existential plea for Pure-B100ded White males to copulate with Pure-B100ded fertile White females, thereby insuring a viable future for the White Race?

      • klearly only agent K would downfote this . which i fear is completely correct. personally know of 4 miscarriages, and one stillbirth after within a month of vaxing.

  18. Great topic, Z.

    I’m a rather prolific deer hunter, I’ve killed and butchered over 30 of them (ate venison last night, in fact) so I’ve seen plenty of dead animals. I have to say, I don’t enjoy killing them, per se — I enjoy a successful hunt. There’s a difference.

    They want to live, they’re afraid of predators. Sometimes, despite elation with my success, I feel for them. A few years ago I killed one of the bigger bucks I’ve taken. He did everything right . He cautiously crept down a hillside in the snowy gloom about three or for minutes before dark. He waited. He looked. He scented. He stood absolutely still. He was wary. He couldn’t see me but his sixth sense told him something was out there.

    But I did everything, right, too. I waited for what seemed an eternity. I slinged up in my tightest position and timed the shot between my heartbeats, when his head was obscured by a tree, leaving his body exposed for a clean broadside. I knew I had scored a perfect hit as soon as I broke the shot. Nonetheless he bolted into the gloom. By the time I walked up to his last position 130 yards away, it was dark. I found him piled up fifty yards away by flashlight.

    He did everything right, but he still died. I felt for him. Could happen to me, could happen to any of us. There’s a lesson there.

    Knowing death is out there gives meaning to life. I have had an abnormal amount of it in my own life this year — dad died at home in hospice, dog died after an 18-month battle with cancer, cat died, daughter’s dog died. Deer tried to kill me on my motorcycle last week.

    You’re right that out society has sanitized death where people just disappear at the hospital one day as if death isn’t real. There are no more wakes in your living room, death vigils, or church services for most people. We had a cat for 18 years and he died one night in our home of old age, we kept watch over him and heard him draw his last breath at 4 a.m. It was a sobering experience but in some ways beautiful that he completed the cycle of life in his own home with people he had loved his entire life.

    The older I become, the more existentialist I become. You are either alive or you are dead, and if you are alive it isn’t for long, so you had better fucking make the best of it.

    One thing that I have become acutely aware of is how society encourages us to become part of what Tocqueville called the “innumerable multitude of men, all equal and alike, incessantly endeavoring to procure the petty and paltry pleasures with which they glut their lives” and how “Each of them, living apart, is as a stranger to the fate of all the rest.”

    Knowing that I have maybe 20 years left, I cannot stomach the contrived “petty and paltry” bullshit that gives meaning to so many peoples’ lives in the postmodern world — sportsball, pop music, canned entertainment, sexual gamesmanship, petty sniping about irrelevant nonsense.

    As I become more acutely aware that my own days are numbered, I gain more appreciation for Gen. Patton’s admonition that “it is better to die for something than to live for nothing.”

    • The older I become, the more existentialist I become. You are either alive or you are dead, and if you are alive it isn’t for long, so you had better fucking make the best of it.

      Get busy livin’, or get busy dyin’.

  19. Grateful I am to the Zman and Z-audience for today’s, for last Friday’s “Dissident Happiness”, and Monday’s “Christian Nationalism”.

    The sin to which I must confess:
    I’d become such a religious zealot.

    Hearing common religious references triggered me as readily as any shitlib sensitive to signs of heresy. If one can hear the etymology behind the phrase, it’s unnerving. Emotion grabs hold, composure is lost.

    Then I realized, the faithful are speaking the language of their function.

    That is, they must see things in this way, using the shared phrases available to them, the language of their craft, that they might live and do as they are made for to do.

    Can anyone doubt that the faithful here try to live righteously? That they fulfill their Maker’s design?

    To ask them to see otherwise is a sin.
    To demand a different view violates their function.

    Even though one can hear the inversion in the moral framing of that etymology, one can also hear the faithful flipping it back to the upright.

    Wrong I am to pick at lost detail.
    Wrong it is to interfere in the function, to interrupt craftsmen at their task.
    They use a different tool, fashioned to their specialty- so what of it?

    It is not a matter of reward or punishment, though some must see it so that they might grasp the ineffable and bring it into themselves. They hear one another and are amplified.

    The secular here also live righteously, in accordance with their own dialect, their own expression of the Design. Each according to his or her talents. Each to their task.

    The good news is that the the structure and nature of the afterlife is becoming ever more clear. All here- not me, for me and mine are a different function still- all here are destined for the Heaven.

    In this, in knowing what awaits them, in knowing why they are here, I find the courage and resolution to go on.

    Let me continue to hear then the song of your words, the wisdom of your thoughts, immortals, that this short-lived dog might share the warmth of your fire.

  20. If that deer was recently killed, the meat could be salvaged for somebody’s freezer. I forget what state agency you call if you don’t want to gut and dress it yourself. Fish and game?

    People want to connect with death somehow, like those teens posing for pictures. Remember that scene from Unforgiven with Morgan Freeman stood up in an open coffin? Apparently, that was a thing in the Old West. You can find old photographs of dead outlaws who were displayed that way.

    When you get old, you might have a sense that a particular kind of death is stalking you. Like death by water. Maybe that’s why I live in an arid region, haha. But just like in Appointment in Samarra, sooner or later death will find you whether you’re ready for it or not. How do you deal with death? The best tack is to laugh about it, imho.

    Anyone who thinks they will escape the Reaper merits nothing but scorn. Joe Biden’s probably going to be one of those stubborn bastards, like Ginsburg and Feinstein.

  21. If a mere Siddhartha-like unacquaintance with the realities of pain, suffering and death were sufficient to explain the shallowness and superficiality we behold in society, then we could content ourselves that experience alone would shortly remedy the situation; for the shallow and superficial likewise suffer and die, and no means has yet been found that would allow them to ward off the way of all flesh forever. The problem is not in a lack of experience, but in the fact that experience alone does not seem to be enough for people. In historical times, when the life of the average man was quite a bit more dangerous and painful than it is today, the literature of the past tells us that even then there still existed many fools.

    Apparently, the Fear of the Lord, the spiritual awareness that elevates suffering and death into something of transcendent meaning, is not a property arising out of the experience itself, but an infused gift of divine life. Were it only a matter of practical knowledge, then the whole world would be saintly. But, considering the manifold ways in which men constantly display their unconcern for eternity, it can only be a supererogatory grace that supplies the corrective, “remember thy last end and thou shalt never sin.”

    Since it is divine, this gift of full humanity is not within our power to distribute or control. There is nothing we can do to graft it onto someone who does not have it, other than to pray for them. In the practical sphere, all that remains is to take measure to protect ourselves against them, which means the sword of justice and the hangman’s noose.

  22. Excellent Z man, and accurate. insouciance is truly the plague of modernity. I live in the midwest. grew up on a farm in W va in 60’s and 70’s. needless to say, introduced my kids to hunting and fishing at an early age . There ia a loss of commaradarie in the loss of those sports . we look forward to heading into the woods to spend a few days hunting every year with my dad, father in law, brother in law , some friends , and sons. Some of the best times of my life . later was the “old guy ” on hunting trips with my sons and their friends on thheir hunting trips . I introduced as many boys who were their frindes to the outdoors. took them fishing and a few hunting . Some of them still hunt with us today , even though nobody else they know hunts.

    • A few years ago I spent the night in Bluefield WV. Went to Chik-Fil-A for dinner and got talking to a local in the playground area. He had his 5 year old son with him and both were wearing camouflage. They’d been out in the woods that day and the boy had shot his first squirrel. I’ll never forget the radiant happiness coming from that boy when his dad told me about their day. It gave me a glimmer of hope for the future.

  23. I live in perhaps the country’s most progressive town and surrounding area where my community, cheering for all the race, gender and climate fads, remains freaked out about covid. Many are still masking and most have lined up for the latest vax.

    This inordinate fear of covid may the closest that many privileged folks who condemn privilege yet cling to their privilege have come to the semblance of death other than Uncle Bob’s unremarked disappearance. What reflective terror might they behold in that deer’s sorrowful eye?

    • There’s something larpy about the covid hysteria, like they really REALLY want the real deal. That freaks me out far more than the virus did.

      • Like they suspect there are more rounds of death to come and if they just follow The Party’s edicts they shall be spared. That the data now clearly establishes the vexxinations have damaged the takers and masks are pointless even harmful is rejected out of hand. If The Party narrative is 2×2=5, then it is the correct answer and shall be relied upon. This is 5-20% of our population.

      • They wanted the real power, that’s for sure.

        The Baby Boomers, raised by television to be a generation of WW2 LARPers, have waited all this time for their chance to blast the air raid siren. That’s what motivates a lot of the green insanity, too. They can’t wait to sit on their own rationing boards and gloat over their own gas lines.

      • Yes. A huge part of the allure of all of this cult’s projects is this promise of heroism. Of course the definition of heroism is sad since it really is different ism in a thin disguise – conformism. (is that a thing? you get my drift)

        That HBO series Rome was excellent. I remember the bit where Cicero is I think ready to get assassinated and he says, “It is all just vanity.”

        One of my favorite scenes was when Antony goes to visit Cicero and threaten him and pees in his planter in his villa’s indoor courtyard as Cicero lounges. They are discussing politics and Cicero talks about how he has his coalition all lined up in opposition. Antony snorts at him and says along the lines of, “Oh great. The mighty Cicero is going to have the theatre guild and the flower merchants get together and sing us a song and bake us a cake!”

        Vanity! All self importance in the face of impotence and above all, Vanity!

  24. Today’s post introduces the concept of “seriousness” to the essential dilemma of our society’s decline. We still live in a world of prolonged affluence with a high standard of living, and as such, refuse to take seriously the impending disaster of our cultural decadence and financial malfeasance. We assume that the plates will keep spinning because it has always been thus. And as a result, too many of us are now fat, dependent, and lacking in robustness such that a return of real hardship amounts to a death sentence. And that reality is so horrific that it must be denied at all costs. This is why normie remains on the couch and will not even go to the gym one day a week.

    And this is why collapse is the sole cure before us. There must be a return of real hardship and existential threat in order to restart our ancestral evolutionary mechanism of sorting the wheat from the chaff. There is no “virtual” way of accomplishing this. You cannot talk your way into native intelligence, biological strength, or genetic robustness. These all must be acquired via a gauntlet of tangible hurdles in which death is the price of failure. Hard truth is an unrelenting bitch. Get off your ass!

    • Tom, you often deliver a similar sermon, but I don’t mind, because your message is so necessary.

      But, over the years, I have become curious about the preacher behind the sermon. Without doxing yourself, can you reveal anything about your ideological journey? Did you always see the world as you do, or was there an evolution, even a dramatic struggle in facing the terrible truth? I confess that I’m hoping that you started life as a hippie in Berkeley…

      • My story is dirt common. Raised by a single mother with 4 siblings in poverty. Hard road from the git go, but Catholic upbringing saved what was salvageable. Am on the autistic spectrum (surprise! High functioning Level 1). Lifelong engineer and problem solver. Always a small “l” libertarian; a life well-lived must be hard-earned in the first person.

        My epiphany occurred when I realized that only tangible physicality could save us. Which is why I am so frustrated with Dan Bongino. As much as I like most of what he says; he is leading the lambs to slaughter, and that is immoral.

        • Thank you, sir. I appreciate hearing about your life. Your writing always has my attention.

    • Dear Z—You did a great job! This is a great thoughtful article that gives much to ponder. Thank you.
      I was 22 yo, of the girlie girl persuasion, when I shot an antelope in Nevada. Having been raised in foothills of California by Commie parents who believed guns get up, walk around and shoot people on their own, for me being in the Sheldon Antelope Range tracking antelope for 5 days absolutely put me in touch with reality that utterly changed my life and life direction forever. Yes I shot that buck antelope guy one shot through the heart, he dropped with no flailing and so be it, was done. I did walk to him and looked him and death in the eye. Not with defiance, with humbleness. I hung him up, gutted him, skinned him, quartered him. Ate him with gratitude and thankfulness. Yes, it done growd me up. Yes, death is part of my world. No where to run, no where to hide and that is fine for that is reality.
      Thank you Z Sir for pointing out over half our population is mind fucked fluffy bunnies and unicorns with no foot in reality. When the shit gets hard, these bug people will roll over in the ditch screaming with legs twitching wildly in the air.
      Consider it time for separation. Nothing will return their damaged brains back to reality. And they are very, very dangerous and spiteful mutants on their way out the door. Bless your heart, sir, for such good writing.
      Thank you Tom A for your thoughts. Best wishes to you, Line!

  25. Do the younger generations no longer attend funerals?

    In any event, one way the young may encounter death is through the loss of a pet, either from an accident such as being run over by a car, or by euthanasia. To my mind, there is little in this world more traumatic than losing a cherished pet. And it certainly leads one to contemplation.

    • I hadn’t attended a funeral until I was 33. Many since then.
      I actually pray for my departed pets more than I do people, assuming that Providence is already in charge of them.

    • I grew up raising and killing chickens, and hunting (insofar as shooting vermin with a BB gun is, I suppose, hunting). Lost a dog and a couple of cats. Didn’t affect me much.

      My grandpa died when I was 8. There was Paw-paw lying in the casket in his Army uniform, looking serene and waxy. My cousin and I were supposed to pull the blanket up over his chest before they closed the casket, and when the moment came, it hit me that was the last time I’d see him in this life. Couldn’t do it, sat there bawling.

      Fwiw, just reminded me of that. Not a bad memory, either. One of many lessons I learned from the man, I guess, and probably fortunate for it.

  26. Death is like life in that it means different things to different people. Many condemned men will give us the final finger as they cash out like Saddam Hussein. There are WW2 stories of the gunners in the bombers dying on their guns as their pilots limped the aircraft home, through swarms of enemy fighters.

    Live well, Dissidents! And may you die well too.

  27. “Few people know where food comes from or how it is possible.”

    According to the google, 7% of Americans believe chocolate milk comes not just from a special different cow, but from a brown cow.

    I just hope the fake meat thing and eating ze bugs is the hill people chose to die on. Will normie accept grilling vat-meat and grasshoppers is just as good if not better than grilling a steak or even hamburger? Without beef, where exactly do the the xirls who rule us think they will get their Ben & Jerry?

    • An easy half of that 7% are trolls if I had to guess.
      Also lab grown meat is a grift that will never work and math on bugs isn’t much better.

      I thought the “death” thing would bother me more as a hobby meat farmer (which is where everyone would go if bugs or science sludge were the only choices) but the depressing thing isn’t so much the “dispatching” as the knowledge that…its not like this animal was going to live forever if you weren’t going to eat it. Indeed for meat birds letting them live past their “sell by” date is considered cruel since they’ll just have a short life with a painful demise (I’m tempted to think pink-piggies (Yorkshire) are the same way as they just get bigger and bigger until the farmer comes upon 800lbs of Rosie O’Donnell that he has to figure out how to get from the pen to the compost heap).

      • grew up doing that. in w va we grew the annual hogs to about 600 lbs, because then there was a lot of lard on them . shich was used in all the cooking. I don’t think you can even buy it anymore, but it was actually good. expecially in gravy. anyway , good luck .

      • If lab-grown meat proves delicious, healthy, and reasonably priced, I will much prefer it to meat that comes from the slaughterhouse. Say what you will, I will always feel uneasy about meat processed through factory farming. Not so uneasy that I’m giving up meat, however. To me, life without meat would scarcely be worth living.

        • Good lord. Hardcore factory farming, and its spiritual toll.

          Not near as bad as halal or Asian cruelty, no, but still a slow spiritual poison like mRNA additions to the food supply- mRNA was, by the way, first promoted for animal vaccines.

          This is the Infection at work, what some call the Satan, what I call the God in the greenhouse.

          It cannot stop it’s own growth, any more than a mold up the wall overtaking a house- thus, intelligence and Whiteness arise in the Design.

          Some call it the Antichrist, and I agree. Left unchecked, our future would be a human factory farm.

          To my horrified delight, an auntie told us how she could hardly wait for Pa & the boys to slaughter a hog for breakfast. The kids looked forward to fresh meat!

          Different sensibilities in those days, but they treated their animals differently too.
          Not with callous or deliberate cruelty, never that.

          • Eh… Read “The Jungle” by Upton Sinclair. They’ve been telling horror stories about the meat industry for a very long time. Turns out he was a Vegan and a communist. What a shocker.

            From what I know of Halal, it’s pretty brutal. I do oppose being needlessly cruel to animals. (I also STRONGLY oppose paying what amounts to a Halal and Kosher tax imposed on most foods in the US.) Every reasonable effort to not be cruel to animals should be taken. But reasonable efforts, not every possible effort.. We cannot eliminate all suffering.

            We simply cannot have meat as a dietary staple without factory farming. A good porterhouse steak is already pretty expensive. I don’t want to be paying 100 plus Dollars a pound for Shoprite grade steak while also lowering my meat consumption.

            A lot of the “organic” veges or “grass fed” beef is just lies. I don’t know how much, but I know Wholefoods was caught bringing in subpar meat and vegetables from China and selling it as high quality locally grown organic vegetables and “grass fed beef”

  28. I was an “extreme” sportsman, a real aviation and parachuting freak brother. I’ve watched a number of my friends “bounce” as we say. Some, including the late Roger Nelson, required minutes before they succumbed as their aortas leaked out.

    Then again, the younger brother of a friend fell under a cement truck while he was innocently riding his bicycle in sixth grade, crushing the unfortunate kid at the navel level but leaving him to survive quite consciously for a few hours. Our neighborhood was assembled to pass through the boy’s hospital room and say our last goodbyes.

    I believe it’s the uncertainty of death in terms of when ours will occur and what occurs afterward that instills the fear most of us feel about the issue. From what I have witnessed, at the moment death is imminent, most folks and animals calmly accept it. My own dad took some relaxed breaths and then smiled happily as he departed. The struggle to live was over. There are worse events than death for many of us.

    • Living under leftist & minority control, as if we don’t already.
      Is going to become intolerable one day. At that time what?
      I pray for insight, guidance,
      resolve and strength

  29. The problem with this post is a confusion of meaning and purpose. Meaning is not purpose. Value is not purpose. Life does have meaning for sure, but it is not purpose.
    A lot of education is needed for many to understand this issue.

    • The whole attitude of this poast is off.

      I’m sorry Z, but I’ve seen enough dead deer (and shot many of them myself) – and those are not “sad eyes of death”. Hell’s bells… what does a happy deer look like? Damn right they’re loading up and going hunting, and I hope the boys fill their tags! People hunt because it affirms their life, and puts them in touch with instinct and genetics as old as mankind himself. Our ancestors would have seen that deer as a gift from their gods. (Often it was). It meant full bellies, hides for clothes and tents, and life for the tribe. A dead deer is just a dead deer – it’s nothing to get squeamish or morose about. And before any panty-waisted sissy city kid starts lecturing me about the evils of hunting – go down to the local slaughter house and watch your steak being prepared.

      Good grief!

      • This is the truth. Animals don’t really have facial expressions. Not in the sense that we think about with humans anyway.

      • Your comment illustrates one side of the disconnect and inability to comprehend each other between people like you and the people who don’t know where food comes from.

  30. The two young men who went joyriding in Las Vegas and killed that former police chief for sport were recording it in the style of a video game, viz., Grand Theft Auto.

    They were imitating a video game that itself imitated real life. And we then watched on our video screens a video imitating the style of a video game imitating real life.

    We need a natural disaster to end the smartphone situation or we will see man-made disasters that will kill millions within a decade or less. These are the pox-filled blankets that will end civilization if not humanity.

    • I wanted to believe smartphones and social media were the CB radio of the 2010s. I still have some glimmer of hope that when the money bubble pops, the free social media craze will go away and that people won’t pay for the experience. Unfortunately, it’s probably pure projection on my part.

      In the 90s I naively believed that as computers spread into the homes of regular people that the horrifically one sided EULA would not be acceptable to the general public. But all that happened was they became far more one sided, intrusive and unfair and the public yawned. People will sell their soul for a game that holds their attention 5 minutes.

      • I once thought rap was an ephemeral gimmick…

        In point of fact, all terrible innovations these days are permanent.

        • The first time I experience rap was in the early 80s and it was JJ Cool Jay performing some song on a music show.

          I assumed it was a comedy skit. I kept waiting for the punchline. There was no way that this could be presented as music.

          Afterwards, I had to learn that those who (mostly) control the music industry and the media had decided that rap/hip hop was the music of the future and what the public wanted was irrelevant.

          • The first time me and my friends her Rapper’s Delight, which was the first rap album to gain prominence, we assumed it was comedy. It was funny and mostly silly, so we just assumed it was intentional.

          • Well, that’s just it. Early rap was intended to be comedy, kind of like those novelty songs (Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah; The Streak; Yellow Polka Dot Bikini). And some of it was passably amusing in a primitive negro way. Who could have guessed that it would not only become America’s dominant form of pop “music,” but that it would transmute into a virulent, demonic cacophany? The rap I encounter today sounds as if it issues from the very bowels of Hell. Perhaps it does.

          • You were right. Early rap was what we used to call “novelty music,” comedy or ironic-narrative songs with fleeting and mostly non-musical value, the urban equivalent of trucker songs.

            Black people still treat hiphop that way, as a disposable soundtrack to a specific few days. Listening to an old album is a huge faux pas. ’90s night at the club is fine, but only a loser (white) would decide for himself to put “Don’t Sweat the Technique” on the turntable ever again.

            That’s *one* reason media companies want hiphop to be the only pop music. You know the rest.

          • And, it was fun.
            Sugar Hill Gang doing a silly, fun goof of/on/in urban pop culture: telling silly stories and unleashing silly boasts over a stolen (appropriated?) bass line from an R&B song.
            (Fun fact: the bass part in Rapper’s Delight was played all the way through, start to finish, by a real-time bass player, thumpin’ away on a P-bass (pre sequencers, you know…!).
            And then…wha?
            Hip Hop did, and does, as much or more to damage “The Blessed” than…well, you finish that statement.

  31. I’m not entirely sure it’s technology shielding the youth from being traumatized by Bambi. You can go on the internet and find video of actual murder, especially lately thanks to the Ukrainians and Russians.

    But I’ve noticed a lot of Millennial and younger people seem to just avoid this stuff and surround themselves with a soft saccharine reality. Lots of shitlibs I’ve met seem to live this sort of whisper-talking children’s cartoon reality where they spend most of their time checking after one another’s well-being and cautioning everyone when they’re about to broach a potentially PTSD triggering subject like running out of cookies or stubbing a toe.

    Look at saccharine video games like Undertale and Stardew Valley, it’s a long ways from my memory as a kid of feeding quarters in the Mortal Kombat arcade to see the fatalities. For some reason my youtube recommends got infested with content about the former games, and the people making these videos are some of the fruitiest sounding people imaginable. The skinny ones have male vocal fry, the fat ones do a sort of weird affected voice (best I can describe it is a silly pompous bad guy voice). These people are somehow able to utterly cocoon themselves in a world of soft pink fluff.

    • Is it just me, or are there others who get pissed off when some stranger (store clerk, person in line) tells me to “stay safe”?

      It’s gotten to the point where I stop, glare at them and ask,”what do you mean”?

      Their recoiling is worth the aggravation.

      It’s just a way for them to cope and make sure I’m on the same page.

    • > I’m not entirely sure it’s technology shielding the youth from being traumatized by Bambi. You can go on the internet and find video of actual murder, especially lately thanks to the Ukrainians and Russians.

      That’s not real, it’s just entertainment under the guise of being mature. It is not a coincidence media is becoming more violent and depraved as people lose their grasp on the cycle of life.

      • Maybe I’m the odd one but while I’m completely unmoved by even the most grotesque movies, when it’s video of the real thing I have this unsettled “why did I just watch this” feeling that persists for a good while.

    • Welcome to the matriarchy, ol’ Ploppy. And I hope you’re double-masked, for the love of God. Stay safe!

    • I have noticed this phenomenon in the music that is marketed to the Good Whites. Cant name any artists (Generally don’t listen to music produced after the 1980s but a few years back it seemed like everything I heard in passing or at friends of friends houses had a distinct lullaby quality to it. Not in a good way. False sensitivity to the point of smarminess. The perfect soundtrack for male feminists (allies?!) and mask wearers.

      • I’m not up on this music either–dropped out of the pop culture in 1992–but I think they call that crap “emo.”

  32. We saw during the pandemic how immature and fearful our society is when it comes to death. People would rather destroy their current lives in the present than have a potential 0.1% risk of death.

    I watched an old, sick, semi-close relative die. Nobody else could be bothered to come to his bedside. By this time it was past the point of mourning, he had been sick a long time. It was a relief when he took his final breath.

    We walk a fine line between a living, breathing, spiritual, human, to a lump of flesh and bones. His breathing became weaker and weaker, and then just stopped. The fat Black nurse came in and disconnected the cables, dumped him on a stretcher and pulled a white blanket over him. Onto the next one.

    Death is uncertain, but it can also be beautiful and peaceful. This relative wasn’t opposed to God but was not a big believer. I prayed that he would make it to Heaven as he was dying. While it is sad that he is gone in this world’s realm, he has moved on, as we will all do.

    I do believe that our fear of dying comes from the massive numbers of Godless people who feel the flames flickering a little stronger every day. The ovens are working overtime with Western additions these days.

    • Good point. For those of us on this continent where World War II was distant and the cause of at most moderate sacrifice, Covid was the most important event since the American Civil War. The mass, abject fear of a miniscule chance of death changed my and many others’ opinions of our countrymen. They are fearful, cowardly, hollow men whose pathetic lives are worse than death. Hence, we have arrived at this place. We learned a lot about those around us and most of it was not good.

  33. I can recall seeing my grandmother, and later my grandfather within the hour of when they died. And I recall seeing my father, albeit briefly, in the ER just after the heart attack took him. I was in the room with my wife, and her whole family when her father passed. I heard the death rattle, and watched him become still. It is an awesome sight. (And no, kids, “awesome” does not mean totally cool.) When the nursing home called me I made my last daily visit to my mother, and sat with her for a while. I put my hand on her forehead while she was still warm. When the guy came to take her away I noticed that there was no padding on the gurney. It was just hard metal. Then I realized there was no need for padding. She was beyond all earthly comfort. I’ve held my cats and dogs when the vet gave them the injection. And I held one of the cats when his little life gave out on its own. The last thing the little guys experienced was me holding them, and telling them they were the best pet ever. I will not take my current best old pal for the shot.
    My wife and I met when we were already at the tail end of middle age. Now we’re old. I do not fear my own death. I fear greatly the possibility that I may live to see hers.


    • I had the good fortune to be in the room with both of my parents when they “Shed This Mortal Coil:” Dad, 12/2009, Mom, 08/2022.
      That’s right – I said “Good Fortune.”

      • Both parents, btw, “resolved” at home in the house they shared since the mid-1950’s: Brooklyn, NY.

        Raised 6 kids!

        ( For my city…I still shed the occasional tear.)

  34. Before the industrial revolution, infant mortality was 50%. There also was a high death rate for mothers. Women understood, due to religious beliefs, their main function was getting married and having a lot of babies. That gave their lives deep meaning. Any hint of feminism meant death for the family, the tribe, the religion, the society. Boys were raised to fight and girls to become mothers. As society collapses, those who return to that ethos will be the only ones to survive.

  35. Hopefully you folks will indulge me on this but reading the Yeats poem recently gave me pause. Seems even more relevant.
    First stanza:
    Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.

    • Thanks David. That passage has always felt deeply prophetic, a vision of our future that we can’t escape.

      But I want to observe that Yeats’ poem has become one of a few pieces of art that everyone, left or right, quotes as their own.

      What I mean is, that I have heard leftists quote “The best lack all conviction, while the worst, Are full of passionate intensity” and they are thinking of you and me as the “the worst.” Leftists don’t read Yeats’ poem and interpret it as a warning about what they are doing. They read it as a warning about us.

      Orwell’s 1984 is another. While it seems obvious to us that Orwell had the totalitarian leftists in mind when he created Big Brother, it is just as common to hear the leftists says that Big Brother is Jerry Falwell or George W. Bush or Donald Trump.

      My only point, besides saying that I am moved by the Yeats poem, is that there a few works of art that everyone, left and right, uses to rally their side and anathematize their opponents, and Yeats’ poem is one. I guess that great art can become so universal that everyone claims it as their own.

      • Our antagonist’s capacity to twist narrative and meaning around a spindle of gnostic narcissism never ceases to….

    • And what rough beast/
      Its hour come round at last/
      Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

  36. My son’s first real experience with death was at 4, seeing his grandfather’s corpse on the living room chair. Jarring? Yes, but you a learning experience that puts the harsh reality of life in context. The worst thing you can do is insulate youth from this, as you will universally get a fundamentally unserious person who is incapable of understanding humanity.

    The bizarre trend of “celebration of life” gatherings is an indication of a people who can’t grapple with death, and therefore can never really live.

    • My little brother was run over by a garbage truck when I was 4.5 years old. The truck wasn’t moving; he had lain underneath it for reasons only God knows. I saw it from about 100 feet away and have never recovered after several decades. The sounds and sights and aftermath will never leave me.

      During Covid I absorbed abuse from friends and acquaintances calling me a coward, afraid of needles, afraid of this, selfish, afraid of that, etc., etc. I had the eerie experience of staring at one person who’d experienced not a drop of discomfort in life talking to me in this fashion and becoming utterly, completely, metaphysically detached from physical space (and perhaps Time as well, although I’m not certain). In that moment I became aware of the experiential gap between human beings that almost nothing except Love can bridge, and that Pain and Fear widen in our world more and more with each day.

  37. “We are not far from the point in science fiction where humans who reach their expiration date mysteriously disappear, sent off to the recycling plant.”

    The world of “Soylent Green” surely?

  38. There is a reading of the Eden story that suggests death is not a curse given to the first humans but a gift. What could be worse than living your life separated from the source of all being except having that life never end? These attempts by our ruling weirdos to live forever – either through uploading their consciousness into a machine or drinking the blood of children or whatever witchcraft they are investigating – is then monstrous, wicked, and disordered.

    Anyone who has ever been with a loved one when they die knows it to be the worst thing. Worst day, ever. And also that there is nowhere in the world that you would prefer to be in that moment than at that bedside or, as the artists showed, at the foot of the cross. It is a great mystery and to lose access to it, as we have, is a profound loss for us.

    • I take great pleasure in the frenzied, futiles attempts of the elite to attain immortality. Their fear brings joy.

      • Actually, elites who don’t try to live forever give Faustian deal vibes, like they know where their money and power is going to lead them. The simpletons who try to find the philosopher’s stone are still possibly able to find the right path.

      • There was an interview I watched with some tech millionaire that’s spending all his time and money on trying to stay young. He literally spends all day exercising and his diet is all pills. His skin is smooth for sure, but it looks like the rubber prop face they used for Arnold in the first Terminator.

    • “What could be worse than living your life separated from the source of all being except having that life never end?”

      But the above is only because you *do* believe in an eternal being. My impression has been that those who are godless must therefore believe that this life is *all* there is—an eternity of nothingness behind us and an eternity of nothingness after us. With that belief, then of course, nothing is more purposeful (to us) than extending our meager existence between those two extremes.

  39. If only the populace could see the carnage first hand and live with it in Ukraine maybe some reason and hope would return to America. That blue and yellow lapel pin or avatar would then seem ludicrous. Maybe.

    Oh, by the way, tomorrow is Soylent Green day.

  40. Oswald Spengler had it right when he noted that when having children and creating the next generation is seen as a boutique and optional choice, your civilization is in terminal decline.

    Children, grand children, great grandchildren are the only immortality anyone is really assured. No one really understands this at a gut level until they reach their 50’s or so.

    When it’s much, much too late to address in anything other than a token way.

    Think about this a great deal as my retirement savings reach escape velocity in my mid 50’s and contemplate how I’ll find an old folks home that gives a rats when the time comes.

    • At the moment my newborn daughter was shown to me, I was instantly struck by the thought, “now I can die in peace.” Far from being a morbid thought it created a feeling of immense serenity. It was completely involuntary and not the product of anything I’d been pondering prior to her birth.

      • “When Bobby turns 18, I will watch my son drive away in the car I taught him to build, go upstairs to my bed, and die” – Hank Hill

        “I don’t know Hank that sounds pretty depressing” – Dale

        As always, Hank was right.

        • Well, grandchildren are those whom you can spoil, then return to their parents to deal with the repercussions. 😉

          • Can’t recall who said it but “The reason why grandparents get on so well with their grandchildren is because they both have a common enemy.” sounds about right.

  41. Those long walks are paying dividends!
    This essay is excellent, as it perfectly argues something I state frequently: how insulated we are from death. The young people I deal with have lived a quarter of their lives, statistically, and yet they have not seen one dead body in the wild. By “in the wild,” I mean that the body has not been prepped, embalmed, put under corpse lighting, and displayed in a viewing or funeral. I mean that look where there was something, and then nothing. Bizarre that death is all around us, but the experts come in, cover up the body, wheel it away, and then it reappears 5 days later for a viewing, looking alive!
    I made sure my girls were there when my grandfather was slowly dying and when he actually died. They were close to him (we visited at least 4 times a week). My youngest was 5, and I think it is so important for thoughtful people to come to terms with death as a reality as soon as possible. Due to the limits of consciousness and solipsism, we, in essence, view ourselves as immortal. But when you recognize how much has passed before you, and how much will pass after, you become humbled. And when you are humbled, you appreciate what you have. No one who realizes death is a reality could legitimately spend 10 hours a day on a cell phone. My youngest is one of the happiest, healthiest kids you will meet, but she sometimes gets quiet and says she still misses her (great) grandparents. Not frequently, but sometimes. That connection with the past, though grave, is profound and worthy of cultivation.
    This further broadens to the breakdown of family and tradition. Caring for your family as they die is one of the greatest acts you can give to those that have impacted you. Shirking that duty by calling in the “experts” to sanitize the process is one of the most cowardly acts we engage in (and there are many).
    For contrast, consider the epic Beowulf. Beowulf is, at its heart, an elegy, an extended, mournful meditation upon death. One of the great aspects of Anglo-Saxon poetry was, to steal from Professor Tolkien’s incredible analysis of Beowulf (“The Monsters and the Critics”), was its “peculiar solemnity.” He says that Beowulf was like hearing, far-off, distant, and hopeless, a heathen funeral, when it was new. Now, it is as a memory of that hearing carried over the hills for centuries. When reading Beowulf, we get a poem that moves with the thoughts of all men upon the ultimate fate of man upon Earth. So it is for all thoughtful people, until the dragon comes.
    Great essay today, Z.

    • I always tell my family stories about picking beets, shelling peas, standing in wheat above your shoulders, hauling bales onto the rack, straightening old nails, getting hit by the flyswatter from baba or getting the stern look and a backhand from Gido.
      They used to roll there eyes.
      Not so much anymore.

  42. In reading posts like this one, and in listening to some of your audio segments lately, I have felt you are gravitating more and more towards theology, Zman. When I first started visiting this site (some years ago), my impression was that you were generally ambivalent to religious faith, though you respected it and were conversant in it. So if my observations are correct, I commend you for exploring this subject in your columns (and perhaps I more generally).

    I’m curious about how you approach your writing. As you’ve developed as a columnist, I’ve noticed that a given week might have a theme that you develop over several days. Do you plan that in advance? Or does the “connectedness” arise spontaneously and lead you, instead of you planning it out?

    God be with you, Zman, and with us all.

  43. This is truly beautiful.

    Urbanization and insulation from the reality of the finite nature of life infantilizes humans. Some have suggested war almost is necessary to reattach people to the greatest truth and to make them men again. I reject that but suspect it does touch on something truthful. The disappearance of extended families where children and young adults see their grandparents and aged uncles and aunts die also has made death an abstraction. And as you mention, the absence of farming, hunting and fishing from the lives of most has accomplished much the same. Secularism has this downside as well.

    Most of the pathology of contemporary life lies in distance from nature. The richest people in history have become the saddest and most disturbed as a direct result. Maybe the WEF is right in part for all the wrong reasons–too many people packed together is dangerous, albeit not in the sense they mean “danger” but in the sense of loss of the soul, of a larger meaning. Do harder times make for better people? They certainly may make for more realistic and complete ones. We are about to leave the time of plenty and will see if that hypothesis checks holds up. 

    • It seems hardship may be a way of re-arfirming morality. People will find out why we had all of those rules.

  44. I think you might not be giving the kids enough credit, regarding death, especially the white ones. If you’re a millennial or a Z’er there’s a good chance you’ve lost some friends to opioids. Even without my experiences in Iraq, I was already on intimate terms with young death. Especially now, with the fentanyl, every hit is Russian Roulette. The suicide rate, as bad as it is, is only going to get worse as the antiwhite psyop really ramps up. Years ago I read an article about this old English couple who no longer recognized their neighborhood and killed themselves together one night after having a nice final evening meal. I expect there are going to be more and more “deaths of disorientation,” anomie exacerbated by turning this into a land of mutually hostile strangers.

    And still, despite the screwing these kids are getting, America is very much a youth-centric culture. “The teenager” was our 20th century creation. Before the postwar boom teenagers were just young adults who went into the mines or the factories like their fathers. Once there were suburbs and mass affluence, they were pandered to because they had that disposable allowance money and could tool around in their cars, listen to records on the juke and go to the local car hop for a burger and fries. Everyone fretted about their mental state and worried about juvenile delinquency until civil rights came along to give the busybodies an incurable problem to focus on for the rest of eternity.

    Our dystopia will probably include the worst elements of both “Logan’s Run” and “Soylent Green.” Heck, because of the proclivity of our elite for pederasty the disposable mass of people will soon come to be regarded as old at age 18 (at least in Logan’s world, you got until you were 30 before being cast into exile.) And any white who somehow survives to seniority will get turned into Soylent Gaia—the suicide machine will play Turner Classic Movies, so white people can remember the good old days—and the diversity will get first dibs on their organs.

    Hey, we’re starting the week on a positive note.

    • The Forever Wars and the opiate overdoses have hit only a narrow slice of young whites, but that is a good point as to those who have been exposed to either.

    • My millennial son has lost more friends and acquaintances to suicide and drug over doses than I have ever known.

    • “ Everyone fretted about their mental state and worried about juvenile delinquency until civil rights came along to give the busybodies an incurable problem to focus on for the rest of eternity…”

      Joey, I think this is a perceptive observation that may express a profound insight into human nature, and the nature of modern “developed” societies. I don’t think I’ve heard a connection made before between the delinquency “crisis” of the 1950s and the civil rights “crisis” that replaced it a decade later, and is still with us. Incurability as a motivation is definitely something that brings out the do-gooder in people with a lot of leisure time; advocating for disease research, or social transformations, certainly gives meaning to secularized people.

      In any case, it’s a subject I’d like to see explored more deeply, either on this site or elsewhere. Thanks.

      • Agreed. Joey’s comment is among the best I’ve read here or elsewhere and that’s a profoundly original thought. Puritans/Progressives lie awake at night not out of fear there are heretics in the world but that they may run out of problems and causes to solve and champion.

        • Well they hit the mother lode of unsolvable problems with racial grievance. IQ differences assure us of disparities in material success. A thousand years from now, Africa will still be a third world shithole, blacks in whatever rises from the ashes of America will be underperforming, and progressives will be piously telling us it is due to systemic racism and zealously enforcing at gunpoint their latest theories on how to make us all equal.

      • There’s an old joke, I can’t remember where I heard it. “The best kind of doctor to be is a dermatologist, because your patient never gets better and he never dies.” This same tendency appears to motivate our foreign policies. Ron Paul once complained that we should stay the hell out of the Middle East because we don’t understand the irrationality of that world. But the irrationality and dysfunction were very good to the military industrial complex. Look at Ukraine, highly dysfunction and corrupt. Our defense contractors like Ukraine for the same reason pornographers and pimps like undereducated girls with low self-esteem who’ve been abused by every man in their life. They’re easy pickings. Russia’s sense of itself—rediscovering its pride and purpose during those “shock therapy” years—was sort of like the drugged-out hooker stopping dope and gaining some self-respect and autonomy. Of course it enrages the neocons. Their plan was to pimp Russia into the graveyard or the crazy house, but now she’s back on her feet and has her life together.

        • “ Our defense contractors like Ukraine for the same reason pornographers and pimps like undereducated girls with low self-esteem who’ve been abused by every man in their life.”

          Okay Joey, that’s TWICE on one comment thread. You’re an aphorism engine today.


      • Look up the Ad Council”s web page to see just who those “folks” are who are building in our young people all the new things to build their lives around, and obsess about, as we move farther from the reality of a “necessary” life.

  45. Being raised in a rural area around animals and men who hunt them does bring one familiarity with death and the finality of it.
    Seeing a animal or a loved one in the death rattle phase has a sobering effect.
    I get frustrated with people whom have little or no idea where that beef or chicken sandwich came from.
    Cities and large metro area’s and just the modern technological age seem to validate the Tower of Babel story, mankind is always seeking to outrun his purpose and pretend he can be a God.

    • Absolutely. There’s something analogous in Christianity to the concept of America’s second founding by Lincoln, et al. Christ’s message, in some sense, superseded the story of Genesis, which clearly instructs us on the purpose and proper role of humans. Although we are made in God’s image we cannot compete with Him and make ourselves gods. We are mortal, He is not. We have a choice, to love God or to act as gods. But as our earthly existence is ephemeral, the latter must always end in failure (death), which is why obedience to Him is the only proper choice. Making that choice lays the groundwork for humans to organize in ways that make our temporal existence more productive for us and our progeny, and inures us to fear of our inevitable passing.

      But that lesson has been pushed aside for 2000 years by the primacy placed on Christ’s teaching. And now, with the abandonment of His lessons as well, it’s no surprise that more and more of us are unfamiliar with the lessons of death.

    • I still remember when I told a friend that meat comes from the muscle and fat tissues of an animal. He didn’t believe me and kept telling me I was wrong. We were kids at the time, I don’t know if he ever figured it out.

    • And old friend of mine and I recently waxed on something you might find interesting: in our youth (70’S) during hunting season, no small number of gents would head upstate or to PA to go deer hunting, and return to NYC (Bklyn.) with their kills “strapped to the hood of the car.”
      (Dress in the backyard/garage, or bring it over to the neighborhood butcher,)

  46. Watched old people die. Came upon dead people (including my Mother). Had to have some beloved animal companions put down. Not a hunter, hadn’t taken life. Big thing to remember is none of us is getting out alive.


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