Sieg Heil!

What We Owe Our Parasites
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, let me thank you first of all for the honor of your invitation and the pleasure of being with you today. In the past dozen years I have spoken before a great many conservative and patriotic organizations, but this is the first time that I have appeared before a society that is specifically German: that is to say, composed of the descendants of the part of our race that stayed home in the fifth century, while their kinsfolk conquered and occupied all the western territories of the largely mongrelized and moribund Roman Empire that their more remote kinsfolk had founded more than a thousand years before.
 
As I understand it, I am speaking to a closed meeting of your members and of guests in whom they have confidence. I believe that it is stipulated that what is said here today is off the record and not for publication in any form and that there are no reporters present. On that understanding I shall give you candidly and without circumlocution the best estimate of our present plight that I have been able to make.
 
Some of you may remember the old story about the college girl who went to bed one night, and finally dropped off to sleep, but in the early hours of the morning she heard the clock strike two and she felt the door of her room was slowly opening. Terrified, she tried to call out in the darkness, but a handkerchief was whipped over her mouth and she felt strong arms lift her from the bed. She was carried downstairs, thrown into the tonneau of a large and luxurious Rolls-Royce that set off at high speed. After a long ride she was lifted out and carried into the large hall of a vast and palatial mansion, up marble stairs, and into an elegantly appointed room, where she was thrown on the bed. Only then did she see her captor clearly. He was a strong and handsome man attired in faultless evening dress. He stood by the bed, looking down at her speculatively and silently. She tried to speak, and at last she was able to say whimperingly, "What, oh, what are you going to do to me?" The man shrugged his shoulders. "How should I know?" he said. "This is your dream."
 
The story is absurd, of course, but it owes what little humor it possesses to its equivocal play on the mystery of our own consciousness. A dream is by definition a series of sensations that occur in the brain when both our senses of perception and our powers of will and reason are in abeyance, so that we have no control over that flux of sensations. But it is, of course, a well-known phenomenon that when we dream that we are dreaming, the dream ends and we awaken. Then the conscious mind takes over and we are again responsible for our thoughts, and must face a day in which we must be responsible for our actions, which, by their wisdom or folly, may determine the rest of our lives. Our dreams may give expression, pleasant or painful, to our subconscious desires or fears. But in our waking hours we must, if we are rational, make our decisions on the basis of the most objective and cold-blooded estimates that we can make: estimates of the forces and tendencies in the world about us; estimates of the realities with which we must deal; remembering always that nothing is likely to happen just because we think it's good, or unlikely to happen just because we think it's evil.
 
If ever we have had need to appraise carefully and rationally our position and prospects, the time is now. In the outer quadrangle of Brasenose at Oxford, if I remember correctly, there is in the middle of the green sward a solitary sundial, whose bronze plate bears the chilling inscription, It is later than you think. I assure you, my fellow Americans, that it is now later -- much later -- than you think. It is possible, of course, that it may now be too late and that, as a veteran observer and distinguished friend of mine recently assured me, our cause is now as hopeless as was that of the South after the fall of Richmond and near the tragic conclusion of the second war for independence which was fought on our soil. I honestly believe, however, we still have some chance of survival. If I did not believe that, I certainly would not be speaking to you today or asking you to consider with me the odds against us.
 
I may be wrong. I have no powers of divination, nor of prophecy. And I certainly do not know the secret plans of our enemies, or even the inner structure of their organization. I can only guess the probable extent of their power and the probable efficacy of their strategy by extrapolation from what they have thus far accomplished. I can only give you my best estimate, made after long and anxious consideration; but I do not pose as an expert in these matters, and since I have promised to be candid, I will tell you candidly that my estimates in the past proved to be overly optimistic.
 
When I left the mephitic atmosphere of Washington late in 1945, I had no great misgivings about the future of our nation. On the basis of the best estimates that I could then make, I was confident that our future was assured by a popular reaction which I deemed inevitable within the next five years. I felt certain that the secrets of Washington would quickly become known and that our nation would be swept with moral indignation and revulsion when Americans saw exposed to the light of day even a small part of the foul record of the diseased creature that had squatted in the White House for so many years, surrounded by his appalling gang of degenerates, traitors, and alien subversives.
 
I knew that the secret of Pearl Harbor would be quickly disclosed, and that Americans would soon know how the Japanese had been maneuvered and tricked into destroying our fleet and killing so many of our men. I was sure that the public would soon learn of the old conspiracy between Roosevelt and Churchill (who was at that time a private citizen in what was still Great Britain), and also of Roosevelt's persistent efforts from 1936 to 1939 to get started in Europe the insanely fratricidal war that devastated that continent, that destroyed so much of what is the most precious and irreplaceable treasure of any race -- the genetic heritage of its best men -- and that inflicted on our own country a great squandering of life and wealth in a war that was deliberately conducted to assure the defeat of the United States and Great Britain no less than that of France and Germany. I was sure that we would quickly, once peace had come, see that we had fought for the sole purpose of imposing the beasts of Bolshevism on a devastated land. I was sure that we would quickly see the nature of the great treason trap called the United Nations. I thought that decent men's stomachs would turn when they learned of the officially admitted strategy of the British government which, in deliberate violation of all the conventions of civilized warfare, had initiated the vicious bombing of unprotected German cities for the express purpose of slaughtering so many defenseless German civilians that the German government would be forced to bomb unprotected British cities and slaughter enough helpless British civilians to work up in Great Britain some enthusiasm for the suicidal war that the British government was imposing on its reluctant people -- the first example in history, I believe, of a government at war deliberately having its own citizens massacred for the purposes of propaganda. I thought that the truth about such domestic outrages as the infamous Sedition Trial in Washington would necessarily become known, and excite the feelings that such crimes must excite in the breasts of decent men.
 
And I was sure that a thousand other infamies, unsurpassed and only rarely equaled in recorded history, would be disclosed with the result that all the steamships outward bound from our shores would, within a few years, be crowded to their very rails with hordes of vermin desperately fleeing from the wrath of an aroused and angry nation.
 
In 1945 I really believed that by the year 1952 no American could hear the name of Roosevelt without a shudder or utter it without a curse. You see; I was wrong. I was right about the inevitability of exposure. Like the bodies of the Polish officers who were butchered in Katyn Forest by the Bolsheviks (as we knew at the time), many of the Roosevelt regime's secret crimes were exposed to the light of day. The exposures were neither so rapid or so complete as I anticipated, but their aggregate is far more than should have been needed for the anticipated reaction. Only about 80 per cent. of the secret of Pearl Harbor has thus far become known, but that 80 per cent. should in itself be enough to nauseate a healthy man. Of course I do not know, and I may not even suspect, the full extent of the treason of that incredible administration. But I should guess that at least half of it has been disclosed in print somewhere: not necessarily in well-known sources, but in books and articles in various languages, including publications that the international conspiracy tries to keep from the public, and not necessarily in the form of direct testimony, but at least in the form of evidence from which any thinking man can draw the proper and inescapable deductions. The information is there for those who will seek it, and enough of it is fairly well known, fairly widely known, especially the Pearl Harbor story, to suggest to anyone seriously interested in the preservation of his country that he should learn more. But the reaction never occurred. And even today the commonly used six-cent postage stamp bears the bloated and sneering visage of the Great War Criminal, and one hears little protest from the public. Why?
 
It is true that there were some faint and feeble beginnings of reaction, especially when Senator Joseph McCarthy began his famous series of hearings before the Senate Subcommittee on Internal Security. All that those hearings produced was but a small trickle leaking through the vast dike of official secrecy that held back the ocean of evidence that the United States had been stealthily captured by aliens and by the traitors in their employ. But when dikes begin to leak they soon break. And when the McCarthy hearings started, only a little later than I had predicted, I said to myself, This is it at last! This is the beginning. And soon will begin that great exodus of panic-stricken rats fleeing from a just retribution.
 
But I was wrong again. Instead, a friend of mine was right. He was at that time a member of the Central Intelligence Agency, which at that time included some Americans. And he happened to be in Wheeling, West Virginia, on the 9th of February, 1950, when Senator McCarthy made his famous speech in which he stated that there were 57 members of the Communist Party or of the Soviet espionage apparatus in the State Department in positions of responsibility and that the State Department knew that they were there. After the speech, my friend found an opportunity to talk to McCarthy alone. He told him, "Senator, you said there were 57 known Communists in the State Department. If you had access to the files of my agency, you would know that there is absolute proof that there are ten times that many. But Senator, you do not realize the magnitude and the power of the conspiracy you are attacking. They will destroy you -- they will destroy you utterly."
 
But Senator McCarthy merely shook his head and said, "No, the American people will never let me down." He was wrong too, you see.
 
It's not necessary here to rehearse the steps by which McCarthy was destroyed. He was of course sabotaged from within his own staff. The aliens who control our press and radio and the boob tubes spattered their slime over the country. Swarms of the ignorant and neurotic little shysters whom we call "intellectuals" issued from the doors of the colleges and universities, shrieking and spitting as is their wont. And all that had its effect. But the conspiracy was able to silence McCarthy only by a somewhat less routine operation.
 
They found an Army officer who had been a military failure until Bernard Baruch promoted him to General, and who in 1945 should have been able to hope for nothing better than that he could escape a court martial and thus avoid being cashiered, if he could prove that all the atrocities and all the sabotage of American interests of which he had been guilty in Europe had been carried out over his protest and under categorical orders from the President. The conspiracy took that person, and with the aid of their press they did a quick masquerade job and dressed him up as a conservative. They wrote speeches that he was able to deliver without too much bumbling. They displayed his grin on all the boob tubes. And they elected him President. And, of course, "Ike" was elected with a mandate from his masters to stab Senator McCarthy in the back. And he did. And so the conspiracy plugged that small leak in the dike.
 
But how was it able to do that? Oh yes, we could trace the whole operation step by step. We know that our enemies are sneaking and cunning. We know that they command the wealth of the world, including whatever is in the United States Treasury and, through the income tax, whatever is in your pocket and mine. They can hire stupid or unprincipled Americans to do anything for them and to act as front men. But the real question before us is not their cunning and their innate evil.
 
The deeper, more important, and far more unpleasant question is: What was and is wrong with American people that made them and is still making them willing victims of their enemies?
 
Some years ago, it was customary for fast-talking confidence men to find some chump with five or ten thousand dollars in cash and sell him the Brooklyn Bridge or the Holland Tunnel. And I hear that when the Pennsylvania Railroad began to demolish its station in New York City, someone bought it for $25,000 cash. Now the swindlers in all those cases are undoubtedly wicked men. They deserve exemplary punishment. But, you know, there must have been something wrong with the purchasers too. Much as we may sympathize with them, we shall have to agree, I think, that they were not overly bright.
 
We Americans, you know, are regarded with supreme contempt by our enemies, who describe us in private and sometimes in public in the most contumelious terms. You may remember that some years ago a man named Khrushchev was the manager employed on the conspiracy's estate in Russia. He was invited to this country by his pal Ike, and he toured our land, honored and applauded by the press and even by some Americans. Soon after he returned, he told newspaper reporters in Vienna, "The Americans? Why, you spit in their faces and they think it's dew."
 
That delicate phraseology reminded me of what I had been told by an acquaintance in Washington during the Second World War. This man, a veteran journalist, held a position of importance in one of the lie-factories operated by the Roosevelt regime to keep the boobs pepped up with enthusiasm for sending their sons or their husbands to a senseless slaughter. At one policy conference, this man objected to a proposed lie on the grounds that it was so absurd that it would destroy public confidence, with the result that Americans would soon cease to believe anything that the agency manufactured. There was a great deal of debate over that question in this policy conference until it was ended by the agency's great expert in such matters. He was a man who, by the way, for some reason or other, had left Germany a few years before and come to bless the United States with his presence. This expert, being a bit ruffled by the debate, finally took his elegant little cigar from his mouth and said decisively, "Ve spit in ze faces of the American schwine!" And that settled it. The master had spoken.
 
Why do we receive and deserve such contempt? Unless we have simply degenerated into a race of imbeciles, unfit to survive in the world, there must be some ascertainable mental block that makes us so gullible. And, if so, we most urgently need to identify it. That's the real reason why I brought up the question of Senator McCarthy and what may have seemed history long past and otiose. That episode was obviously the antecedent of our present terrible plight. And when we try to look back at the obvious factors, such as the alien control of our channels of information and of our finances, we know there must be something back of that. And then we look at an obvious factor, of which many were made aware only recently by the shocking behavior of so-called students in so-called universities and by the far more shocking behavior of the administrative officers and faculties of those diploma mills. We now see that the gang of sleazy racketeers headed by John Dewey has attained its goal. We realize that the public schools have been for many years a vast brainwashing and brain-contaminating machine that has worked, on the whole, with great efficiency. It's a machine to which we send our children to have their minds filled with grotesque and debasing superstitions; to have their instincts of integrity and honor leached from their souls; to be incited to premature debauchery and perversion; to be imbued with thoughtless irresponsibility; and to be prepared for addiction to mind-destroying drugs and an existence below the animal level. The public schools have indeed been the most powerful single engine of subversion that our enemies have used upon us. The rest of this hour would not suffice even to enumerate the ways in which the self-styled "educators" have accomplished their deadly work.
 
When we go back to the affair of Senator McCarthy and look for a deeper cause, we can of course blame the schools, which were doing then, a little less openly, the work that they are doing now. But that leaves us with the question: Why did the American people fall for that racket? Why were they gullible enough to be so easily taken in by John Dewey's hoax?
 
Well, let us go back to 1917, when Dewey's fraud had gained control of only a relatively small area, and when the world was certainly a brighter and more pleasant place. That brings us, of course, to the time of Woodrow Wilson, another baleful figure in our history. I am not one of those who regard Wilson as entirely a villain. I think he was primarily a man who could intoxicate himself with his own words. And I think that he went through most of his life mistaking his hallucinations for reality, as surely as he did on that day in 1919 when he was driven in the early morning through the deserted streets of Washington, mechanically raising his hat and bowing to the applauding crowds that existed only in his feverish brain. I am therefore willing to believe that he believed a good deal of what he said. And although in his political life he was merely a marionette that danced and pranced on the stage as its strings were pulled by Jacob Schiff, Bernard Baruch, the Warburgs, and their agent Colonel House, the fact remains that Wilson ranted to the American people about "making the world safe for democracy" and "a war to end wars," and they believed him. Instead of calling a physician when he began to babble that arrant nonsense, they let him plunge them into a war in which they had no conceivable concern and to use the power of the United States to make the result of that war as disastrous in the long run for Britain as it was for Germany.
 
Now I admit that the notion of a warless world is a pleasant and attractive thought. But people who believe that there can be such a thing should ask it of Santa Claus, in whom they doubtless also believe.
 
Let us go back to 1909, when the American people were offered a plan for destroying nations that had been formulated again by a filthy degenerate named Mordechai, alias Karl Marx. Now it's true that the promoters hired a few journalists, liberal professors, and other intellectual prostitutes, to prove conclusively that the proposed income tax could never under any circumstances exceed four per cent. on the income of millionaires and could never affect anyone else, for the obvious reason that no federal government could possibly spend so much money. But the point is that a majority of the American people -- the inheritors of a free government based on the premise that government must be limited to essentials and must be tied down by the chains of a stringent constitution restraining the exercise of all powers except those deemed absolutely necessary for national defense -- those American people believed that hogwash. In effect, what the promoters were telling them in wheedling tones was, "Come, little boobies, put your heads into the noose and we'll do you lots of good." And the boobous little boobies stuck their necks into the noose, and so the country is now under the regime of the great White Slave Act, and that's why we are where we are today.
 
We could go much farther back, and if we had the time we certainly should go back at least to the 18th century, when the weird mythology of what is now called "liberalism," and all of the basic lies that are rammed into the minds of our children in the schools, were manufactured by a motley and bizarre gang composed of agents of Weishaupt's great conspiracy, many ordinary swindlers and mountebanks, and quite a bevy of "idealists" with buzzing brains and twittering tongues. But I think that we have said enough to see that we Americans are suffering from a chronic disease or tropism that has invariably placed us at the mercy of our enemies by making us incapable of taking thought for ourselves. There is in us a weakness, perhaps a fatal weakness, that makes us not only listen to the babble of self-professed do-gooders, but to do whatever they tell us to do, and to do it as mindlessly as though we were in a hypnotic trance and had surrendered our will to that of the hypnotist.
 
Now I believe that this strange weakness, unlike so many of our peculiarities, is not a single congenital and hereditary idiocy. If that were true, we would not be here: our remote ancestors would have been eaten long before the dawn of history. It is compounded, it seems to me, of a perversion of seven different qualities; a perversion effected and fostered by certain misunderstandings in the peculiar circumstances that resulted from the prosperity, power, and world dominion we of the West achieved for ourselves and enjoyed in recent centuries. All of the seven elements of our mentality that I shall enumerate are good qualities, at least in the sense that they are born in us, that we could not eliminate them from our genetic heritage if we wanted to, and that we have perforce to accept them. We could comment at length on each of them, and it would be particularly interesting to contrast ourselves with other races at each point. But I must list them as briefly as possible, with only a word or two of explanation to make my meaning clear.
 
The first is imagination, which is highly developed in us, and vivid; an imagination which means, among other things, that we have a spiritual need of a great literature: both a literature of vicarious experience and a literature of the fantastic and marvellous that transcends the world of reality. But this gift bears with it, of course, the danger that we may not distinguish clearly between a vivid imagination and something that we can actually see in the world.
 
Second, the sense of personal honor which is so strong in us, and seems so fatuous and silly to other races. It is this, among other things, that gives us the conception of an honorable contest when men of our race meet as opponents in war. It gives us the knightly ethos that you see when Diomedes and Glaucus meet on the plains of Troy and in all subsequent history and story of our race. It also exposes us to the danger of behaving in knightly fashion to those to whom those standards are lunacy.
 
The third is the capacity for objective and philosophical thought, which is virtually limited to our race, and which enables us to put ourselves mentally in the position of others, but simultaneously exposes us to the risk of fancying that their thoughts and feelings are what ours would be.
 
The fourth is our capacity for compassion. We have a racial reluctance to inflict unnecessary pain, and we are ourselves distressed by the sight of suffering. That is, of course, a peculiarity that brings upon us the ridicule and contempt of the numerical majority of the world's population, who are beings differently constituted. The savages of Africa, who are now your masters in the sense that you have to work for them every day, find the spectacle of a human being under torture simply hilarious. And when they see a blinded captive with broken limbs squirm as they prod him with red-hot irons, they laugh with glee -- with a merriment, a real merriment, that is greater than the funniest f