One Pill Makes You Love Jews; Another Makes You Fall

And the ones that Greenblatt gives you make you get on your knees and crawl.

by Douglas Mercer

NO STORY FILLS THE Jews with more unabashed glee than the infamous “brush with hate.” When the White man who dabbled in White pride; who dipped his toes in “xenophobia”; or who was head over heels with “racism” but soon found out he was in over his head; who for a moment thought that the White race should have a glorious and eternal future; who figured out it was the Jews, always; who could see with his own eyes that it was the Negroes and Mestizos and other non-Whites who were making life impossible for Whites in their own homelands — when this person suddenly “wakes up and sees the light”; when he sees that the Jews only want what is “best for everyone”; that “we are one race, the human race”; when he abjures and eschews his “extremist” past; when he foregoes his perilous dalliance with White racial pride, when he brushes off “hate” without looking back… well, when all that happens, they know they have a live one (even though he is a one-in-million super-rarity), an Exhibit A, and they pay him enough of a stipend so he can buy some new clothes at Walmart and trot him around in the public square as a cautionary and salutary tale. Their message: It’s a dangerous road for a White man to love his people: don’t go on it. And if you are on it, exit now.

And it’s all the better when it was a little pill that did the trick.

Brendan was once a leader in the US white nationalist movement. But when he took the drug MDMA in a scientific study, it would radically change his extremist beliefs – to the surprise of everyone involved.

The news leaked from the horrid groves of academe in June 2023 that Ecstasy might just be the anti-White wonder drug of wonder drugs, the one the regime wants, so they can put the Soma in the haters and quell and pacify them, and stop them from hating. The Jewish-run mass media blared the story everywhere, and “cautious optimism” was expressed: Why, their endless and increasingly ineffective propaganda might no longer be necessary — just give wrong-thinking Whites a pill and problem solved.

Story is that Harriet de Wit, a professor of psychiatry and behavioral science at the University of Chicago, was testing whether MDMA increased the “pleasantness of touch.” Then her research assistant brought some bad news. One of the subjects wrote on the form that taking the drug had “helped him work out personal issues.” Then they Googled his name. Wit’s team quickly found out that the subject was “a known White nationalist.” Their thoughts racing, the researchers first thought that by giving this person the drug, they might have unleashed the next Buffalo, or El Paso, or Christchurch, or Tree of Life. Had they created a monster? The next Brevik? Was it going to be another Shoah? There goes the tenure, and there go the grants! Try publishing in Pharmacology Today when you have 20 Black bodies on your head. Turns out their panic was misplaced; this subject was not going to screw the optics, no way. He was going to be a docile little lamb. He was going to “love.” Indeed, “love is the most important thing,” he told the baffled research assistant. “Nothing matters without love.” Which was music to the ears of the Jews, the least loving people in recorded history.

Could MDMA transform people’s beliefs too? MDMA does not seem to be able to magically rid people of prejudice, bigotry, or hate on its own. But some researchers have begun to wonder if it could be an effective tool for pushing people who are already somehow primed to reconsider their ideology toward a new way of seeing things.

It doesn’t take a genius to see where this is heading.

Some fifty years ago, the medical establishment expunged the homos from the DSM; turns out that what everyone knew throughout all recorded history was wrong: The fags were not deviants, or weirdos, or abnormal. They were as normal as apple pie and Mom, right as rain really. But now that “racism” is a “public health crisis,” how long until it is a mental health and psychiatric crisis? How long until “racism,” and “hate,” and “xenophobia,” and “homophobia,” are officially categorized as mental disorders? You don’t need to be Nostradamus to see it coming.

It will be attributed to a lack of love in the formative years, to overbearing fathers, a harsh toilet training regimen, or whatnot. But an inability to feel the oceanic bliss of “loving all humankind,” a lack of kindred feeling for every Kickapoo and Hottentot and cannibal, a “selfish” focus on love of one’s own people — this will all be deemed a sickness, and given an official label, and a number. And the kindly psychiatrist will prescribe a pill to suppress it.

The drug may even be able to help people see through the fog of discrimination and fear that divides so many of us. When De Wit told me the story about Brendan, I wanted to hear more about what happened directly from the horse’s mouth, so I paid Brendan a visit. I was unsure of what kind of person I would be meeting, and had even half-jokingly texted a couple of friends to let them know where to come looking for me in case I disappeared.

She needn’t have worried. Even the likes of Jeffrey Dahmer, who ate people, went to great lengths to adamantly deny that he was “racist.” Which means that, in his mind, he had decided that eating people was less of a sin than disliking Congoids. But it goes to show just how delusional these milquetoast journalists and academics are. They really think that to be a White man who loves his own race, to be a White man who has not caved to the inordinate pressure to blithely consider all races equal, is to be the monster of all monsters — and probably to be psychotic and violent as well. When, in reality, they, the professors and reporters, are the ones who have slipped the bonds of sanity; for there is nothing more normal and rational and natural than to want the racial characteristics you inherited to be sent forever into the future.

Brendan grew up in an affluent Chicago suburb in an Irish Catholic family. He leaned liberal in high school but got sucked into white nationalism at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign, where he joined a fraternity mostly composed of conservative Republican men, began reading antisemitic conspiracy books, and fell down a rabbit hole of racist, sexist content online.

“Sucked in” — as if into a whirling vortex or malevolent maelstrom; but what we find when we awaken to our people’s plight is not a maelstrom, but a pot of gold. When you come to realize that nearly everything we’ve been taught about history and society and politics (“the good guys won World War 2″ and its innumerable ideological derivatives) is a vicious pack of lies; that we’ve been snookered and hoodwinked, and given daily doses of the Kool Aid; when you see that the official meta-narratives of our lives are carefully crafted and deadly Jewish fantasies — well, the discovery is worth more than all the tea in China; it is exhilarating and liberating; and it is a spur to win our race’s war against time.

Brendan joined Identity Evropa to connect with others who shared his views. He attended the notorious Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville and quickly rose up the ranks of his organization, first becoming the coordinator for Illinois and then the entire Midwest. He travelled to Europe and around the US to meet other white nationalist groups, with the ultimate goal of taking the movement mainstream.

Horrors! Having a racial identity while White! Traveling to Europe! Meeting up with like-minded folks! Clearly a life of “hate.” However, he was then “outed” as loving the White race by some antifa group; and, instead of redoubling his efforts, as a man of strength and character would have done, he started to wobble. The fact that he subsequently lost his job and was shunned by family and friends made him even more wobbly.

Then, to make some money, he entered the “Ecstasy Touch Clinical Trial” (this probably says something about his character, too) and magically his “brush with hate” was ended; all it took to end his love for his people was one little 110mg dose of MDMA.

About 30 minutes after taking the pill, he started to feel peculiar. “Wait a second – why am I doing this? Why am I thinking this way?” he began to wonder. “Why did I ever think it was okay to jeopardize relationships with just about everyone in my life? I noticed it was making me happier – the experience of the touch,” Brendan recalled. “I started progressively rating it higher and higher.” As he relished in the pleasurable feeling, a single, powerful word popped into his mind: connection.

Let’s face it, this guy must have been a bit shaky in his understanding of the Twenty-Five Points of National Socialism from the beginning. With friends like these we have more enemies. His dedication to our cause must have been an inch deep and an inch wide. If all it took was to pop a pill in his mouth and he got that Freudian oceanic feeling, and regretted his work for his people — well, he was never going to amount to much anyway. Good riddance to bad rubbish, really.

“It suddenly seemed so obvious: connections with other people were all that mattered. This is stuff you can’t really put into words, but it was so profound,” Brendan said. “I conceived of my relationships with other people not as distinct boundaries with distinct entities, but more as we-are-all-one. I realized I’d been fixated on stuff that doesn’t really matter, and is just so messed up, and that I’d been totally missing the point.”

The rest of the story might as well be a Jewish fairy tale, and maybe it is. He hired a “diversity, inclusion, and equity consultant” to advise him (can you find those in the classifieds?). He enrolled in therapy, began meditating, and started working his way through a list of “educational” books (recommended by a helpful rabbi, no doubt). He even befriended a member of antifa who said:

“I think he is trying to better himself and work on himself, and I do think that experience with MDMA had an impact on him. It’s been a touchstone for growth.” Brendan is still struggling, though, to make the connections with others that he craves. He also has not completely abandoned his bigoted ideology, and is not sure that will ever be possible. “There are moments when I have racist or antisemitic thoughts, definitely,” he said. “But now I can recognize that those kinds of thought patterns are harming me more than anyone else.”

What happens if the drug wears off? A relapse? What then? Well, they say that the first thing you have to do to solve a problem is to admit you have it. And in the Brave New Future where Loving Your Race While White is a mental defect (and a grave one!), they will have to guard against backsliders, so up will pop “Former Racist” 12-step groups, where ex-“neo-nazis” and “White supremacists” who are feeling the itch to get back in the fray on behalf of the Great Race meet and try to tamp down that Wrongthink:

“Hi. My name is Bob. And I have a problem. I’m White and sometimes I love my people.”

“Hi Bob, glad you’re here, the first step to solving a problem is admitting you have it. But you are with friends here — and on the road to recovery.”

If extremist views are fueled by fear, anger and cognitive biases, the researchers posed, might these be targets of pharmacological intervention? If MDMA, with proper preparation, can nudge us toward embracing a loving state of being, then the idea of using the drug as an aid to help make the world a more loving, less hateful place may be more than just a pipe dream. As Emory University primatologist Frans de Waal wrote: “Empathy is the one weapon in the human repertoire that can rid us of the curse of xenophobia.” Brendan said: “I really think it was a breakthrough experience.”

This is the Jews’ dream come true — pharmacologically lobotomize the hated Whites; slip us some soma and make our most natural and necessary and noble feelings vanish in a haze of surrender, capitulation, and quiet death. Their perfected pill will be fast-acting and long-lasting; take it and your will to live and your survival instinct will be obliterated in an instant. You will see those Haitians wading in the river and your soul with burst with love; you will be like those parents whose daughter is raped and drugged and murdered by a Negro and who then take the Negro’s side in a tearful, slobbering, speech of “forgiveness.” Your natural feeling that you belong to a great race which deserves to live will be replaced with a virulent strain of Stockholm Syndrome.

And you will especially love your captors, the Jews, and will go to any lengths to please them.

You were “sick,” but now you are “well”; though always “in recovery.” The men in the white coats have a file on you and are pleased with your progress. Just don’t forget to take your meds.

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