Joan Rivers. What kind of name is that for a Jew? Goldman, Diamond, Bloodsucker, those are good Jewish names. Foxman, Wolfowitz, and Puppetmaster are good too. They let you know what Jews are really interested in: money, power, and manipulation. But “Joan Rivers”? Nah. Still, her race is concealed only when she keeps her mouth shut – which, as you’d expect, isn’t very often. She recently appeared on a British radio programme called Midweek to vent a typically Jewish piece of flim-flam:
I’m so, so bored of race. I think people should inter-marry. Everybody should be part this, part that and part everything. Race doesn’t mean a damn thing. Everybody should just relax, take the best of their cultures and move forward. (BBC Radio 4, 19th October 2005)
What she meant was this:
You dumb goys should rush to destroy yourselves while us Jews stick together and take advantage of your disunity.
However, a black fellow guest on Midweek, the well-named Darcus “Dark Ass” Howe, didn’t want to forget about race. Understandably so, because whining about race is the way he makes his living. Piqued at Rivers’ comment, he tried to suggest she was a racist.
Big mistake. A white liberal would have groveled, but Rivers is a Jew. Trying to lay a “racism” guilt-trip on a Jew is like trying to convert a vulture to vegetarianism: utterly futile. For Chrissake, it was Jews who taught blacks to use the trick on Whites, and they won’t stand for it being turned on its inventors. So Joan yapped and screeched her indignant denial of what this “sunnavabitch” had said to her, and Dark-Ass had to apologize.
The incident got a lot of publicity, which was good both for Rivers, currently on tour in the UK, and for the presenter of Midweek, the revolting Libby Purves (pronounced “Purv-iss”). Unlike Joan Rivers, but like Darcus Howe, she has a good name, because it sounds a lot like “liberal pervert” and that’s exactly what she is. If there’s a bigger, smugger, more dishonest white liberal in the UK, she probably has a contract out on him as I speak, but I don’t think there is. I don’t think there could be. Libby Purves spends every waking moment promoting multiculturalism and multi-racialism and sucking up to the ever-lengthening list of “minorities.” If she met a blind one-legged black Jewish gypsy transsexual leper with learning difficulties, she’d go into spontaneous multiple orgasm.
Unhappily for her, she doesn’t have much chance of meeting one of those where she actually lives, because the magic fairy-dust of Diversity hasn’t been sprinkled very heavily on rural Suffolk. Yep, like oh-so-many liberal hypocrites in White nations, Libby Purves doesn’t practise what she constantly preaches to the rest of us. She could easily live in a “vibrant”, multi-cultural district in London, but she chose the hideously White countryside instead. Many members of the British National Party wish their towns and cities were still like Suffolk, but the rich liberal Libby, whose BBC salary is paid by their compulsory licence fee, has only contempt and abuse for them. Despite the BBC ban on political activity by its presenters, she used her column in The Times to attack the BNP as “wolves” when it was fighting an election near her home.
The BBC did nothing and is even said to have given her special permission to break its own rules soon after another BBC presenter, the perma-tanned egomaniac Robert Kilroy-Silk, had been sacked for making “racist” comments in another newspaper column. More recently, Libby used The Times to rebuke those who think Britain is becoming “decadent” and sliding into disaster. Libby mocked this point of view – “We’re all doomed, I tell ’ee, doomed!” – and began to explain how foolish it was:
The idea that old virtues are dead hardly holds water. Listen to the real voices, daily voices down your street, on your bus; watch poor children in an inner-city school raising money for poorer ones in Africa. Yet the outward forms of old virtues have to mutate into new shapes for each new age. An unexpectedly good guide lies in our communal daydreams, the films we take to our heart. (The Times, London, 11th October 2005)
Her slimy, smug liberal hypocrisy – do you think her own children went to one of those saintly “inner-city schools”? – perfectly matched the “communal daydream” she then chose to discuss:
The newest of the genre, Kinky Boots, is based on the true story of an old-fashioned Northampton shoe company struggling to keep its workforce together by making vampish footwear for drag queens and transvestites. We see the problem – grim streets, empty factories, lost souls facing depression. Someone has an idea, finds an ally and pursues it. Traditional boundaries are transgressed. There is disapproval [but] in the nick of time the project is saved [and] a Milan catwalk audience gives a standing ovation to seedy British drag queens in red snakeskin.
“Transgression” is a term of praise to liberal perverts like Libby, and though she wisely notes that the “grim streets” and “empty factories” are magicked not away by it, she concludes that the film and Lola, the “black transvestite” who stars in it, are performing an important public service:
[T]hese post-industrial comedies articulate something important, relating both to Digby Anderson’s worry about virtue and Mr Blair’s fretful yearning for Respect. They are gentle fables about change, and the way that human beings leave their comfort zone to adapt to new times; they wink and say that once you take the plunge it is really not so bad.
Well, it’s really not so bad for rich liberals living many miles from the consequences of the insane multi-racial experiment they’ve been ramming down the throats of ordinary Whites for the past fifty years. The ethnic cleansing of Whites from towns like Bradford and Oldham won’t be stopped by “winks” and smug liberal platitudes, and what non-white rioters were “articulating” in Birmingham recently was raw racial hatred. Libby’s liberal fantasies are crumbling all around her, but she still thinks she can make them come true with the power of words and images.
It’s a very old idea: that reality can be controlled by symbols. Our ancient ancestors used it in their magic, and 10,000s of years later liberals like Libby Purves still believe in it. The words she uses in her slimy columns and the images of the perverted films she praises will somehow make Britain immune to the conflict and disaster that have accompanied racial and religious mixing everywhere else in the world.
The same reasoning, applied in reverse, made liberals like Libby attack the British politican Enoch Powell for his notorious “Rivers of Blood” speech in 1968. What Powell actually said, referring to the Latin poet Virgil, was this:
As I look ahead, I am filled with foreboding. Like the Roman, I seem to see “the River Tiber foaming with much blood.” That tragic and intractable phenomenon which we watch with horror on the other side of the Atlantic but which there is interwoven with the history and existence of the States itself, is coming upon us here by our own volition and our own neglect.
Liberals accused him of creating racial conflict with words. What Powell was actually doing was prophesy the future, not create it, and though he never actually used the phrase “rivers of blood”, that looks more and more like what we’re going to get. Because liberal perverts like Libby Purves learnt their liberal perversion from Jews, maybe Joan Rivers’ name isn’t so inappropriate after all. Either way, those rivers of blood are going to flow unless prophetic voices like Enoch Powell’s are listened to. Libby Purves may abuse the BNP, but they are trying to save the lives of her and her family too. I hope she’s suitably grateful one day.