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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