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Redpill me on Navalny, /int/.

How qualified is he to rule over the Third Rome?

How much of a nationalist is he? The fact that some people have complained about his appearences near hardcore nationalists tells me he's based enough to say what he really thinks and not back away from reality to remain politically correct.

Are the criminal accusations levied against him legit?

What is his stance on the European Union?

What kind of voter backs him? This map from Wikipedia shows his support concentrated in central Moscow. I assume this means he's more popular among urbanites, but how do other demographic factors such as age, sex and ethnicity determine support for him? What Moscow areas have the highest concentrations of immigrants?

What do you guys think about this article? https://en.eurobelarus.info/news/politics/2013/07/25/uladzimir-matskevich-it-is-possible-that-kremlin-intentionally-promotes-alexey-navalny.html

In return, have some Mosaics
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You mean that dumb meme saying that a 'Byzantium' Princess went to Russia and therefore Russia held that bloodline and claim to the throne? A few issues with that. The Monarchies of Europe are all interconnected so if Russia could claim that so could Germany or even Britain today(infact it would be more relevant to Britain than Russia as Britain actually has a monarchy) and the other issue is that just because you own a princess who has the right to a thrown does not make your country that thrown.


All claims to Roman sucessor state status, wheter German, Italian, Russian or Turkish are pure wewuzzery.


You forgot Romania.

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Post desolate landscapes and surrealist scenery
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Ta-pud Caninowo sinco…


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>2nd pic
Those Arctic wetlands are amazing. All the tiny lakes can look like a collection of neatly arranged gemstones, like on this area just east of the Rauchua river's mouth.

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Which article/detailed information sites do you read with any regularity to hear thoughtful opinions about our reality?

I follow, with varying regularity:
>Thermidor mag
>Jacobite mag
>Taki mag
>The Autistic Mercury

Aswell as some Brazilian outlets.
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Nice reactionary list, I would add
To that, this is the one i read most often. This week in reaction has a lot of good posts about recent topics.


I remember reading its articles about the abnormal strength of nationalism in Austria and how this relates to its distinction from Western Europe's political tradition aswell as the survival of some of its pre-Allied invasion institutions, but then I mostly forgot the site. I'll bookmark it, thanks.

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>All that's left now are dreams of kings we murdered to dissect, for our meddling intellect mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things
>All that's left now are dreams of kings we murdered to dissect
>kings we murdered to dissect
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>The car's on fire, and there's no driver at the wheel.

>I open up my wallet, and it's full of blood…


Why is Rome so good


Good choices of subject matter and rich soundscapes with diverse instruments and audio from speeches and so on.

Curiously enough, "Aeeth" is Jerome Reuter's invention. I wonder what inspiration took him to that concept;

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Is that you, Venezuela?


ITT we try our best to translate quality poetry from out language to English. I'll start with a couple from Alphonsus de Guimaraens' Pastoral to the faithful of love and death:

XXIX - Japanese Carmine

Beside a crystalline streamlet
A lily blossoms chastely.
Across the rill, another lily, in front
Opens skyward the divine goblet.

Lucent, contemplating each other with sorrow…
But, alas! the murmurous creek,
Sliding in silvery course,
Divides the budding lovers.

It's the silence of hills and valleys.
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No one felt your obscure spasm,
O humble being amid humble beings,
Drunk, dizzy in pleasures,
Your world was dark and difficult.

You've crossed on the dark silence
Life leashed to tragic duties
And reached the wisdom of highest wisdoms
Becoming simpler and purer.

No one saw your fretful feeling,
Hidden, sorrowful and striking, secret,
That the heart stabbed you in the world.

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When on mankind's carnivals
The grotesque masks go down
And the most bizarre attitudes
Are unmade in the ferocious Nirvana;

When all falls down in mad fever,
In bizarre, picturesque vertigos,
Of a world of carnivalesque emotions
That mocks the deep and sovereign Faith;

As the dismal, funereal
Misery's sinister gallery passes,
With face masks unglued;
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Found this while reading about one of the most amazing and brutal episodes of the Great War (and indeed, the last century): the Serbian army's retreat through Albania.

Halt, imperial galleys! Restrain your mighty rudders!

Walk with silent tread
I am officiating a proud Requiem in the chill of the night
Upon these sacred waters.

There at the bottom, where seashells fall into the tired grip of sleep
And peat falls upon the dead algae,
Lay graves of the brave, lay brother to brother
Prometheuses of Hope, Apostles of Pain.

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>It’s 6:30PM when you enter the supermarket.

>You’re dressed in thongs and rugby shorts, an old white t-shirt with “Taree Surfing Club” on the front, pressed in faded letters. You haven’t been to Taree since you were a kid, and you can’t remember where you got the shirt, or why you still have it, but now you wear it for occasions like these – ordinary ones, like doing the shopping or visiting your parents; occasions that don’t really require you to dress up. This one t-shirt does have a pretty noticeable barbecue sauce stain down the front, and it makes you a little self conscious, but hey it’s the shopping centre – and who’s judging you? You’re dressed to be comfortable, not land a date. Who’s even looking, you convince yourself.

>“This is water,” you say, as you pass the Mount Franklins.

>You have your shopping list written on your phone in the notes app, and every so often you get a notification from a Facebook group chat you’re a part of with some friends from high school. You start thinking about that time earlier today when you searched for that girl in your economics tutorial you spoke to last week and considered adding on Facebook but didn’t. You still haven’t added her and now you worry that it’s been too long, and if you do it now it’ll be obvious that you were thinking about her – and that might come across as creepy.

>Your list reads like this:

>– Pasta
>– Pasta sauce
>– Eggs
>– Milk
>– Ice Cream
>– Capsicum
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I picked Miss Belambini up at Cedar Park Elementary, where she was a teacher. Her car was in the shop through the week.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she told me as she got into my pickup. I had seen her only one time before, and she had been wearing a lowcut evening dress, with her face rouged and the upper halves of her breasts exposed. Today she was dressed in a skyblue sweater and white pants, her cheeks colored only by the day’s smiles and shouts. But apparently her faint lipstick had given her away: “My kids bugged me since morning bell—Miss Belambini is going on a date tonight! They told me I was lazy not to go home and put on more makeup, and I told them I couldn’t because of my fenderbender yesterday. But they’re so smart. I swear, I couldn’t keep a secret from them if I wanted to.”

I found her more attractive at that moment than I ever had. When she asked if I didn’t want to drop her off at her apartment to change, I told her there was nothing she needed to improve. She blushed appreciatively.

Our first date had been in Minneapolis, but this evening we went to a restaurant the Tribune called a “hidden gem” in Rosemount, nestled in a strip mall between a skate repair shop and a daycare. Miss Belambini lived in Rosemount as well, and when the hostess walked us through the quaintly elegant dining area, and our waiter brought us our exceptional food, she tried to impress in me how many elements of good taste were flowing into the suburbs.

“Take a guess what unit we studied today?”

“Frog dissection?”

“We aren’t allowed to dissect frogs. No, today we started Human Growth and Development—Sex Ed.”

She said it in such a way, ironical yet suggestive, that made me smile and lean closer to her across the table. “Sounds controversial,” I said.
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You open your eyes. You sit up alone in bed in your shitty beige cell inside the larger, shitty beige cube. You’re accosted by social media pop-ups on your screen, Weibo, Twitter, and the like. It’s all shit; you shovel / scroll to the bottom. Here are the serious notifications, the ones with implications for IRL. They loom ominously near the top of your Gmail, prioritized by Google’s busybody AI Butler. He knows you’re unemployed so he puts the emails related to work toward the top without being asked.


You’re already two months behind on rent. The landlord is threatening to throw you out on your soft ass if you can’t start paying in at the minimum, which dropped again this month. The minimum drops almost every month, lower and lower than the depths of hell. Every time it drops, the interest rises; some fucker’s got this game figured. The landlord’s last correspondence says that if it were up to her, she’d give you more time, but she can’t fudge your payments anymore because of a new accounting system and that you must pay in something.


Lower down the list is loan debt – the GoogleU email glows red like the eyes of some predatory serpent poised to devour you. For a moment of fancy, you imagine a flashback to equatorial Africa where your ape ancestor narrowly avoids being bit by such a snake. It makes you sick in the pit of your stomach. Google requests a “Read” notification; you consent. The text is the usual threatening scree; you owe Google bt4920K and you must start making the minimum payment. Failure to do so will result in automatic enlistment into a mandatory debtor job. This is a relatively new phenomenon, passed by a bipartisan majority of Democrats and Republicans, lauded by businessmen as the best thing since drug testing for welfare. Debtors are moved into Debtor Campuses, where they can work off what they owe – the largest two are administered by Amazon and Google. Inside, you’re put to work based on your skillset and earn credits; you can apply your credits toward improving your accommodations, gaining new skills to get better jobs to earn more credits, and, of course, paying off your debt.

You don’t want to go to a Debtor Campus, though. You’ve never wanted anything less – you must avoid this at all costs. You scroll down to the bottom of the page. You have until the end of the week. You sigh a long sigh. The final email is a glimmer of hope amidst the grey – a reminder that todayPost too long. Click here to view the full text.


In the office, you sit before your interviewer, some 30-something yuppie manager with a receding hairline. He wants to know some things about you – you answer those questions. He gives you more questions. He reviews your social media, your Twitter and Facebook. The Twitter is okay – there are a couple anti-government posts that have been flagged by the review software: “Student loan debt is fucking insane!!! I want to blow my fucking brains out every month – my statement is only getting higher!” You blush, shrug. “Just shouting into the void,” you say. The interviewer looks at you, then strokes his clipboard with his pen.

Somewhere, a libertarian says, “If you don’t like it, go somewhere else. No one is forcing you to use social media. You don’t have to be on here and if your speech doesn’t conform to the terms and conditions, too bad! Okay? You signed up, you agreed, and these companies are just trying to protect their brand. It’s good for business, it’s good for the economy…”

Somewhere, someone tries to put up a poster on a crowded street corner and is immediately arrested for vandalizing public property.

Somewhere, you are still in the SharkTek office.

The software they use to rate candidates tallies up the interviewer’s inputs and gives you a slightly above-average karma rating. That’s better than what most people get; you’re officially passed the first stage. Next come the homework questions; “What values do you like most at SharkTek?” You say, “Integrity.” He says, “Why?” You go into a rehearsed spiel you prepared for the night before. You feel good about it; he’s nodding to himself. He strokes the clipboard again. “Where do you see yourself long term?” You say, “SharkTek.” He nods, strokes the clipboard. “Favorite color?” You say, “Blue.” He nods. “Excuse me for a moment.” He leaves the room.

There’s a breakroom adjacent to the interview room replete with Playstation consoles from 25 years ago and vending machines and potted, plastic plants and colored tile flooring and window displays of tropical environments and a jungle gym and a ballpit and TeeVee. The interviewer enters the break room, comes in behind a couch. Two coworkers are watching old episodes of Family Guy during the morning’s first 25 minute break. President Hitler (very unpopular name, he refused to change it, still won somehow) instituted the staPost too long. Click here to view the full text.

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Is hedonism a form of death worship?
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only if you know what's up
most heddies just wanna have fun


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>having fun

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Have you ever fallen into an embarassing or otherwise uncomfortable situation due to exposing too much of your power level to normies with mainstream political views?
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all the time, and they like it


I outright tell people that I'm far-right when the topic is brought up and they're cool with it. Such is life in Bulgaria I guess.


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Sometimes when I'm discussing politics with openminded or ideologically friendly people I respond to an argument with so much haste and energy that ideological rage creeps to my head, lighting a little Hitlerite spark and making me wish I could set alight entire crowds with fiery speeches.

But I'm too introverted and quiet to attempt that, even though I'm good at rhetoric.

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