For Robert Mathews.Leader of The Order. Hero of The White Resistance. Defender of the White race and of the remnants of Western Civilization.
Betrayed by two White people within his circle.
Murdered by the Soldiers of ZOG.
December 8, 1984: We Remember.
For educational purposes.
I do not own or claim any rights to the video/audio excerpts, pictures and/or music.
Video excerpts are from the movie "Brotherhood of Murder" and "Bob Mathews The Order (ABC News Special)"
Music is "Gone With The Breeze" by SAGA
Pictures were found on the internet.
I do not own this video. Mirrored from YouTube.
The True Story of Yule...Christmas before the time we forgot...
'All Was, As Always Had Been....And Then The Christ People Came....'
A Yule tale, the Pagan origins of christmas
Originally broadcast on 21st December 1985 and was written by Alison McLeay. The voices are Michael Elder , Diana Olsson and Paul Young..
Stretch out your hand. Stretch out your hand. Don't you have a greeting for me? Today of all days? Ending and beginning day. The day of death and new birth. Try "Merry Solstice." or "Solstice greetings." You have forgotten me, haven't you? Your children tell sweet tales of me and you laugh behind their backs but I tell you, your children are wiser than you.
The Holly and the Ivy,
When they are both full grown
Of all the trees that are in the wood
The holly bears the crown
O the rising of the sun
And the running of the deer.
A red deer comes over the hill. Shoot your arrows as you will. The deer will stand there still.
Red, cat-like on the hearth, striped with gold. Spitting and twisting, would eat the whole house if you let her.
One-legged seamstress, has needles but can't sew. Wears the same green gown each day, and a white overcoat in winter.
Kindle the fire! Heat to heat, light to light! Give back fire to the sun at mid-winter. Bring new fire to each home. a burning log from the forest. Fire to ease the birth-pangs of the sun.
Wither, wither, black flowering night. May your dark juices bleed, burn up like a pool on the summer plain, shrivel like a stain upon sand, dwindle to a basalt pebble, tiny as a slow-worms eye is. Vanish, to nothing.
Come to me, and you shall see the rebirth of the sun. The glorious Solstice. I am the Shaman. Remember. Whom some call Father Christmas................................