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The Velvet Glove Comes Off the Iron Fist
by Victor Gerhard
I flew to Texas on September 29th to bail a certain miscreant out of jail and figured it
would be a good opportunity to check out our new and improved Israeli-style police
state.
Frankly, the flight from Virginia to Texas via Atlanta was a disappointment. Yes, there was
a continual big-brother voice droning in the background about supervising your luggage and
reporting suspicious-looking characters but altogether the new changes were ludicrous. The
fat, black, female five-dollar-an-hour security guards at the metal detectors yelled a bit
louder and got more confused than usual, and the 65-year-old grandma that checked my ID
held the picture in front of her bifocals for twice as long as necessary but nothing else
was new. I noticed plenty of Middle-Eastern types running around and talking to each other
in jibber-jabber-ese and I would have reported them just for fun except they all appeared
to work for the airlines.
Based on that flight it seemed obvious that in the battle between security and equality,
equality was the clear winner. You can't increase security and keep the same incompetent
affirmative-action hires in the same jobs. You can't increase security without overtly
reducing personal freedom. Our rulers would rather have five million of us dead than give
up the equality myth and the freedom myth, so the much-vaunted changes were just hot
air.
Ah, but I postulated too soon, and my thesis was in for some radical revisions. I was in
Texas for two weeks and in that time the real changes were implemented. My trip back to
Virginia was quite a different experience.
I walked into the Austin, Texas, airport with the same single carry-on bag but also with a
plastic bag full of books and videos I picked up in Austin. Since there was no way I was
going to check a bag and stand for an hour at the airport dumbwaiter I was in for some
serious repacking. I went to an empty corner of the lobby and started throwing out
everything I didn't want and cramming in the tapes and books. Lo and behold, I wasn't
alone for long. Officer Friendly, hand on gun, took time out of his busy schedule to
scrutinize my packing job, only he didn't look so friendly. "Rearranging your bag?" he
asked, as he suddenly appeared at my side. I attempted some disarming comment about my
sincere intentions to stay within Delta's carry-on size parameters. After taking a good
look in my bag he was convinced I had no immediate plans to commit mayhem and was soon off
protecting other people's freedom.
Repacked, I went to pick up my tickets at the Delta counter. The lady at the counter was
inexplicably nervous when I gave her my name. She stumbled over her words as she recited
the idiot litany about whether I had had Carlos the Jackal as a skycap. Maybe I should
have picked up on it, but hey, it wasn't like I was on the Internet or anything.
Next up, the main metal detector into the concourse. Wowie! The changes were glaringly
obvious. First, the line was long -- real long and real slow. While the same black
incompetents were in place, one step behind each of them was a WHITE PERSON -- their own
personal Bwana. And not the retarded, disabled or limp-wristed types of White people either
-� these were the frowny-faced, way-too-serious, "sir, go back through the metal detector
again" kind of people. There you go, equality and security; affirmative action and a Police
State. Plus, a huge, slow line and not one person complaining; a few days of brainwashing
and Americans beg you to take their freedom. Boy, was I embarrassed.
As an added attraction, there was not one, not two, but three jungle-camouflage-clad
soldiers, each equipped with an M-16, closely watching the line. The M-16s were slung
"African-style," muzzle-down, the better to swing into action should anyone in line try any
"cut-sies."
After putting my bag and (new procedure) the entire contents of my pockets through the metal
detector/x-ray machine, I was finally in the concourse and was soon at my gate. With all
the security rigmarole behind me I could finally settle down and wait for my flight.
Wrong! I had yet again underestimated the new security changes and I was about to get an
up-close lesson in the new kind of country we all woke up in on September 12th.
No sooner had I sat down amongst the 150 or so other passengers (including at least 10
desert-dweller types complete with "scarf-hair" from the freshly removed rags) when the
airline boarding team at the desk, an astonishingly racially-pure group of six White people,
called off three names. Apparently, three suspected terrorists were going to receive some
special security attention courtesy of Delta Airlines. As all the other passengers looked
on with amusement or concern, these three carried their bags up to the desk.
One was a slightly swarthy Middle-Eastern type who probably subscribed to the wrong Arab
newspapers. The second was a meek white kid, about 25, who looked innocent enough but
(important security clue) wore a pair of boots that vaguely resembled Doc Martens. The
third suspect was, of course, yours truly.
I'll admit I was caught off guard. I wasn't sure if I was merely in the first group of
what would be a further search of all the passengers. Soon it was pretty clear that wasn't
the case.
Three separate tables were already set up and three hand-held metal detectors were
waiting. Each of us had our carry-on bag opened and all the items removed and examined.
Three White men did the searching. My guy seemed to be a little embarrassed but that didn't
stop him from checking every item. My movie selection didn't help me much � e.g., Dogs
of War, Platoon, Conan the Barbarian, and Boondock Saints (Boston
Irish fight back against 'Russian' Mob). Then our bags were given special tags and set
behind the counter, under guard. Next, a no-nonsense, thirty-something White female went
at me with the metal detector -- and not some quick pass but the complete head-to-toe
two-minute-special. As she appeared to be in charge of the whole show I asked her, with
feigned shock in my voice and trying to keep a straight face, what exactly had caused my
name to come up. I got the expected bureaucratic answer -- she didn't know, "it could have
been anything." I did manage to catch a glimpse of the list they appeared to be working off
-� computer generated with some red highlighting added.
The excitement wasn't over. With much consternation the metal detector search revealed a
keychain on which I had a bottle opener. The key chain was taken from me and a huddled
conference was held at the desk. A quick, quiet call was made to some upper-level security
guru. [At this point I've probably lost you. It happened to me and even I don't believe
it. But I wrote it down just after it took place, and it's all true.] Several team members
carefully ran their fingers over the edge of the bottle opener. Now, this particular bottle
opener had been my boon companion, accompanying me through security checks at Federal office
buildings and even prisons without a problem. But, as they say, everything changed on
9/11. Ms. No-Nonsense herself gravely informed me of the bad news -- the opener had failed
security requirements. However, Delta was willing to store it for me if I was planning on
coming back to Texas, presumably to rescue the opener and drive home. To her relief I
resolved this dilemma by saying she could keep the opener as my gift to her.
The team told me my bag would be returned to me as I boarded, to prevent, I suppose, any
last minute transfer of Cemtex. In fact, we three security threats were allowed to collect
our bags and board before all the other passengers so the stewardesses and pilots could
also identify us.
All three of us got many stares from the other passengers who were probably ready to
gang-tackle us if we so much as got up to use the restroom. Ironically, my seatmate was
either Pakistani or Indian; I guess he didn't trip any wires. I tried to catch up with the
meek White kid in Atlanta; I really wanted to know why he was stopped but I couldn't find
him.
My flights culminated in Roanoke, Virginia. At 11:00 at night the terminal was shut down
and deserted. All except for five armed soldiers, complete with the new black beret, and
the five or so cops outside. In terrorist circles Roanoke is known as "Little Beirut" so I
could understand the concern. Not to overload you, but I stopped at a Wal-Mart in Lewisburg,
West Virginia on the way home and the store had a row of upside-down shopping carts wrapped
in orange tape all along the front of the building, to prevent curbside parking. This, if
you can believe it, was apparently to stop any truck-bombers from getting too close to the
building. Lewisburg, West Virginia, ladies and gentlemen.
It's pretty clear my additional search was not a spur of the moment thing but was triggered
when I bought the return ticket in Austin. What this means is simple but significant -�
the federal government has a list of people it does not trust, an enemies list if you will,
and has spread this list nationwide. I'm on the list, and as I have no criminal record, in
fact I'm an attorney, I'm on the list for things I've written or said about the government.
It appears I'll have the pleasure of a private search every time I fly the friendly skies.
And by the way, some of you reading this are assuredly on the same list.
That having been said, getting searched was a damn proud moment (except I should have
objected and protested, but I'll be ready next time). ZOG thinks I'm a threat! I just
wish I knew exactly what it was I did to get on the list so I could keep doing it again and
again. But it appears I don't have the right to know why I was searched, this being a
fight for freedom and all. We now have a litmus test for our movement. If you're not
getting searched you're not doing enough. Everyone should get on this list. I personally
have been radicalized and energized to do even more for our movement. I won't rest until
they'll only let me on the plane if I'm chained to a gurney like Hannibal Lecter.
Nothing could do more to wake you up to what has happened to this country than having your
name called off a computer-generated list for a politically motivated search of your
belongings, with the only exit guarded by soldiers with black berets and automatic
weapons. The velvet glove is finally off the iron fist. We can stop talking about
figurative 'crackdowns,' because now we have the real thing. And according to every
government official this level of security is here to stay. Europe has had all these
mechanisms for decades so don't hope there is something in the White psyche that will
reject these measures -- quite the opposite; there is something about Whites that they
inherently will accept these measures and mindlessly enforce them against their fellow
Whites.
All our efforts of the past decades have not prevented the Jews from accomplishing their
goals. We live in a surveillance society and are now locked in a perpetual war with the
enemies of Zionism. It's time for some new methods, especially now that the federal
government and organized Jewry are committing so many resources internationally. This
crackdown was in part to secure the Jewish base in America and the new 'war' is designed
to take the pressure of the Intifada off Israel. We must not go along with this; we must
start our own Intifada here, literally in the Jews' own backyards. Passively accepting
this situation only will bring further, more extreme measures. Have we learned nothing
from the past 50 years? I hope to suggest some concrete steps we can take in a further
article as at least a contribution toward 'Upping the Ante' and striking at ZOG while it
has its hands full worldwide. It is not enough to talk, write and think -- we must act.
Hail Victory!
VICTOR GERHARD
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