Russia was derisively called “Upper Volta with missiles” — the missiles in question being nuclear, naturally.
Lodged between First and Third World, the professional economist — not to mention the political scientist — had a hard time pinning that country down. Some of its technological products were remarkable. The AK-47 was the most dependable automatic rifle in the world, able to take sand without jamming, wetproof, reliable, rugged. A number of other engineering projects — without capitalism’s obsession with Planned Obsolescence — worked well, sometimes for decades longer than you would expect. For life at the top things were good. There were dachas and there was vacation in the South.
The problem with Russia has been a fear of alliance with the West. Ever since Napoleonic Times it’s been clear that Russia’s future lies with Greater Europe as the Eastern flange. A great spoke extending from Minsk to Vladivostok. Nobody does Patriotism better than Russians, and this Propaganda-making could be bent to a better purpose — a higher and truer one. The bonded unity of White Men on this planet.
Why not? We have accomplished so much. And there is so much left to do.
A healthy population is a good start. I’xx myself have started running. When Arnold Schwarzenegger became the Republican representative for good fitness, a wise choice was made. The New York mayor who abhorred large size high caloric sugardrinks was not far off the mark. We need many things, among them a Unified Euroblood Protectorate, technologies that soar for the skies, many artists with Manifold Patrons, and a sexuality that is unbridled and true, as well as an acceptance of DEATH. Life balances out that way, with all those things.
The U.S. military is currently entirely Voluntary. This is the best way to amass an array of combat ready troops for whatever endeavors the family four may have in mind. Of course . . . such maneuvers are entirely defensive . . . The white man has been shown by history to be nonviolent and un-expansive. He is a a peaceful creature, hunched down by the hunter-gatherer fire, whittling pictures of fat-butted women. Ask Alexander:
In the end, life will be decided by he who can balance sex and death on the palm of one hand, licking the palm with sugar like the rarest of most precious substances . . .