"Usury is the cancer of the world, which only the surgeon’s knife of
Fascism can cut out of the life of the nations."
- Ezra Pound, "What is Money For?"
(Pound is addressing England)
The enemy is Das Leihkapital (loan capital). Your
Enemy is Das Leihkapital, international,
wandering Loan Capital. Your enemy is not Germany, your enemy is money
on loan. And it would be better for you to be
infected with typhus, and dysentery, and Bright’s disease, than to be
infected with this blindness which prevents you
from understanding how you are undermined, how you are ruined.
The
big Jew is so bound up with this Leihkapital that
no one is able to unscramble that omelet. It would be better for
you to retire to Darbyshire and defy New
Jerusalem, better for you to retire to Gloucester and find one spot
that is England
than to go on fighting for Jewry and ignoring the
process.
It
is an outrage that any clean lad from
the country — I suppose there are still a few
English lads from the country — it is an outrage that any nice
young man from the suburbs should be expected to
die for Victor Sassoon, it is an outrage that any drunken footman’s
byblow (bastard child) should be asked to die for Sassoon.
As
to your Empire, it was not all of it
won by clean fighting. But however you got it, you
did for a time more or less justify keeping it, on the ground that you
exported good government or better government than
the natives would have had without England.
You
let in the
Jew and the Jew rotted your empire, and you
yourselves out-jewed the Jew. Your allies in your victimized holdings
are the
bunyah, you stand for nothing but usury.
And above metal usury; you have built up bank usury, 60% against 30
and 40%, and by that you will not be saved. Corrupting the whole earth, you have lost yourselves to yourselves.
And
the big Jew has rotted every nation he has
wormed into. A millstone. Well, an exceptionally good swimmer might
conceivably
be cast into the sea with a stone tied round his
neck. He might perhaps untie it. If he were a Scotchman, he would
remember
his jackknife, before being thrown overboard.
You seem to remember nothing. It were better you were infected
with typhus. As to federal union, or JEW/nion. There is no question of race in Streit’s proposition. It is
as proposed a union of slaves, under jewry. Offered by liars and abettors of thieves.
You
have stolen
land from your late Allies, and land slips from
your control. The only conquests of Britain and Rosenfeld are conquests
from
their alleged allies.
All
right, say that Franklin Delany swipes all South America — to what
end? And ruin
the United States of America while he is doing it.
What’s that to you? It is not England’s salvation. Will you
ever look at the story of empire? You are not
even in the mercantile system, you are in a fake mercantile system,
not even mercantile. It was for a time called
mercantile or the mercantilist system and defined as considering the
happiness
of a nation to consist in the amount of money it
owned, and its process to consist in stealing, welching, pouching the
greatest
possible amount of same (i.e., of money) from other
nations.
That defines the usury system, the only
system Anglo Saxons have known or used in our time.
And
it will not save you. NOR will Judaized Russia.
Nor will the Kahal, the Jew’s central committee of
bleeders. WHAT is their system? Unvarying, cheap goods, sweated
out of cheap labor, dung dust hurled on the world,
the world conceived as sweat shop, to hell with the 8-hour day, down
with abundance. Dumping sweated goods, dumped
against any and every nation that pays a just price for labor. That is
your
ally.
And in your past a trail of blood and
of infamy. You bought Hessians to kill your own blood in America.
You bought ’em from a stinking feudal overlord,
who was in the hands of the Rothschild; that is History. You stirred
up the American savages against your own kin in
America. But now Eden and Cripps have called in the Muscovite, to bum
and
destroy all Eastern Europe, and kill Finland, for
the sake of the stinking Jews nickel mines.
Your
infamy is
bound up with Judaea. You can not touch a sore or a
shame in your empire but you find a Mond, a Sassoon, or a Goldsmid.
You
have no race left in your government.
God knows if it can be found still scattered in England.
It
must be found scattered in England. The white
remnants of England, the white remnant of the races of England must be
found
and find means to cohere; otherwise, you might as
well lie down in your grave yards.
You
have for years
had cheap goods dumped in from Russia. Your
alliance with Moscow will bring no relief to that wound. Your Jews have
ruined
your home manufactures. Loans from the city of
London, loans to the Orient, interest paid in cheap cotton goods, loans
to
the South American countries, interest paid in
beef from the Argentine, and ruin of English grazing. The laws of
durable
government have been known from the days of King
Wen. When empires go to rot, they go to rot for known reasons.
The
Times, Telegraph, Manchester Guardian, are there to conceal these reasons. Your press is an infamy,
has been throughout our time.
The laws of durable government have been known from the
days of King Wen, and
when the Roman Empire perished it perished from the
same follies that your kikes, your Rothschilds, Beits, Sieffs,
Schiffs,
and Goldsmids have squirted into your veins.
Cheap grain dumped from Egypt, ruin of the Italian farming, usury,
and more usury, that is the answer.
For two centuries, ever since the brute Cromwell brought ’em
back into England, the kikes have sucked out your vitals. A mild penetration, for a hundred
years they have bootlicked
your nobility and now where is your nobility? You
had at least the semblance of control; you had, let us say, some
influence
with the Lords of Judaea as long as they wanted
your titles, as long as Levy Levinstein Lawson wanted to be addressed
as Lord Burnham. You could turn the worst edge of
their avarice, or rather you could turn it off, the upper or huppar
clawses;
and turn it onto the peer. As you did without
mercy.
But when the same scroungers have moved over to New
York City, how will you manage ’em? The same bloody minded extortioners, or their descendants.
The same financial
houses. The same Rothschilds who plotted with
Sherman, and Vandergould to kill the American nation, who betrayed the
United
States in the sixties. Head office in London,
agents in the U.S. of America.
Now
the address is altered.
Main office in Wall Street and Cohen in London.
You send Willie over to spy on us. You send 5000 usurers’ pimps over
to Washington and give special passports,
diplomatic, to inveigle the United States into your plans to get cannon
fodder
from Idaho and from Iowa to weld your slaves
cellar on Europe. And this time you get dumped into the ash can.
You
have even forgotten your Kipling. Pig Baldwin has
forgotten his cousin; if his obscene and treacherous mind ever grasped
the meaning of Rudyard’s stories. Let me recall
one passage to the sow face:
“The
Americans,”
wrote Rudyard, “obligingly slaughtered each other
in order that the Czechoslovaks might inherit Boston Common.”
Cras tibi, tomorrow is your turn. Damn it all, you slaughtered the flower of England in the Boer War. Then
in 1914 in the first three months, the best of you went out and got slaughtered.
. . .been seen only too clearly.
And your foul papers, the filth of your newsprint has been subsidized to keep your minds off it.
A
dirty bit of
meat by the name of Gollancz has used your book
trade to conceal it. You have almost no means of communication. When a
Brooks
Adams writes five volumes that would help you to
see it, six copies reach England. You have lost the health of the mind.
God knows how the scattered handful of Englishmen
still in England can still speak one with another.
I
see no remedy
in your parliament. I don’t mean as parliament. I
mean in the personnel. It is your problem. You do not now even elect
your own parliament. Whether with an election you
could get anything save old dead meat, I do not know. During the last
war a few men had a glimmer of instinct. On
whatever formula, they called it pacifism. Was it? All of ’em I ever
met
were pugnacious. Was it an instinct to save the
butt end of the race by not fighting? Is it a mistake to combat Germans
by force?
Is there a race left in England? Has it any
will left to survive? You can carry slaughter
to Ireland. Will that save you? I doubt it. Nothing
can save you, save a purge. Nothing can save you, save an affirmation
that you are English.
Whore
Belisha is not. Isaccs is not. No Sassoon is an Englishman, racially.
No Rothschild
is English, no Strakosch is English, no Roosevelt
is English, no Baruch, Morgenthau, Cohen, Lehman, Warburg, Kuhn, Khan,
Baruch, Schiff, Sieff, or Solomon was ever yet bom
Anglo-Saxon.
And
it is for this filth that you fight.
It is for this filth that you have murdered your
empire, and it is this filth that elects your politicians.
You
have lost your tradition. You have not even learned
what Lord Byron told you. You are, as even that foul rag the Times
tells
you, a little late in making a start.
In
the year 1942 Anno Domini, there is only one start you can make.
And that is a start toward being England. A
refusal to be a province of Israel, or an outpost of Yankee-Judaea.
*** END OF SCRIPT ***Oh that is some good stuff. Tell it, Mr. Pound. Tell it!.
In his Italy-based radio broadcasts, Ezra Pound named
the names of the biggest Globalist Jews in the USA and England.
1. "Sir" Victor Sassoon // 2. Bernard
Baruch // 3. Henry Morganthau // 4. Anthony Gustav de Rothschild
*
We got a lot of positive feedback after quoting the great
Ezra Pound in our recent "Who Murdered England?" piece (here) -- so we figured, why not do a whole piece on this forgotten literary legend? And here it is ---
Ezra Pound (1885-1972)
was a world-renown expatriate American
poet who, when it came to writing, emphasized the
importance of clarity, precision and, most of all, economy of language.
Pound worked as a literary editor in London during
the early 20th century, where he mentored and helped to promote now
famous
contemporaries of his, such as T. S. Eliot, James Joyce, Robert Frost and Ernest Hemingway.
Angered by Britain's role in starting World War I
and disillusioned by the aftermath, Pound left for Italy in 1924. He
blamed
the war on Jewish finance capitalism, and embraced
the fascism of Italy's new leader, Benito Mussolini. Later
on, Pound expressed support for Adolf Hitler, and wrote for publications owned by the British fascist Sir Oswald Mosley. As you might expect, media outlets such as Time Magazine began taking
cheap shots at the ex-pat literary genius. A 1933 article smeared Pound as:
"a cat that walks by himself, tenaciously unhousebroken and very unsafe for children."
Fine
and famous writers such as Frost,
Elliot, Hemingway and Joyce came to Pound for
literary coaching. How is it that their name recognition and awards, as
the
years passed, came to exceed that of Ezra Pound's?
They are all honored on U.S. postage stamps (Joyce in his native
Ireland),
but Pound the master never was.
Ezra Pound
1885-1972
|
WHY WAS EZRA POUND
ERASED FROM HISTORY?
By Mike King
|
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