The Libertarian Heathen

A Thanksgiving Moto-Blog

I am doing an electrical job in coastal North Carolina with an approximate 1 year duration and I am a little over halfway through it. I go back to Florida for a few days each month, which was last weekend.

My chapter hosts an annual feast called BrosGiving for Proud Boys from all over the country the weekend before Thanksgiving every year. Naturally I have to be there, so I banged out 1500 miles over 4 days and we had a blast. I feel another 3 week oil change cycle coming.

This meant I was about 700 miles from home this Thanksgiving. At the beginning of the week a club brother and road dog of mine from NC reached out knowing this, and invited me to his families house where he has a Thanksgiving gathering for friends and family each year for the last few decades.

Another brother also reached out and invited me to his home for the holiday, and the random acts of brothers making sure I wasn’t alone for a holiday touched my black and yellow heart.

It reminded me why nothing ever said about the Proud Boys by the controlled media or corrupt government can ever smear the truth about these men. They can never stop the beauty of this “drinking club with a political problem” that inexplicably spread over 5 continents almost overnight. They will have to kill us all, and that will be a tall order, considering there are more Proud Boys than FBI agents in the US.

It was in the low 50s when I struck out on the 2 hr ride. The sun was high and the bright, crisp, cool air made everything seem so vivid it was surreal as I rode through the farmlands and rolling hills. I live for rides like this, and was thankful before I reached my destination.

I arrived to a warm greeting and a really fantastic set up for such a gathering with an indoor/outdoor screened in area with a crackling fire. A brother I had a blast with over 4th of July was there, and another I haven’t seen in 2 years.

It wasn’t a traditional Thanksgiving meal. Crab legs and Prime Rib were the main course. I am still a traditionalist but I am also an American Supremacist and I devoured it all.

In America, we do what we want, bigger and better, because we are not the cowards and worms who stayed in Europe to live as slaves and cower before the sort of tyrants we put to the sword and gun to earn our freedom.

The bulk of Europeans deserve nothing more than their meager portions and the taste of boot leather they can never get out of their mouths that spew Socialist nonsense while advocating for weakness and conformity. 

I always scoff when Europeans talk shit about American obesity. They aren’t more disciplined, they just gave their government all their money and let themselves be taxed into poverty without a whimper. They can’t get fat because they can’t afford it, and they would be obese at similar rates if they had the prosperity of free people.

Those who willingly live at the expense of others and accept tyranny do not deserve life, and if natural law was not something these worms spent their whole lives fighting, nature would eliminate them quickly. They wont win the fight, they just delay the victory of nature.

When the Muslims that their own pathological altruism led them to invite in, whom they now cuck their wives and  daughters to, finally destroy them, we will send support to the Proud Boy Chapters there to free our motherlands and send them back to the Middle East.

Europe will become our new frontier and Poland and Russia will be our good neighbors, since they are the only people with any sense of authentic masculinity and sense of nationalism left on the continent, besides European Proud Boys and a handful of other right wing Nationalists and bikers. Thus, they are the only people there the Gods do not hate.

We will preserve all the monuments and cathedrals, but we will bulldoze their tiny bullshit commie flats, as we finally rid earth of  the metric system, and the roads will go in the proper direction.

So getting back to the feasting, we finished eating and then played cornhole and listened to 90s music into the late evening. I shared my new less than guilty pleasure with my hosts, which is bluegrass versions of pop songs. After a sing along of a particularly great example of a Tom Petty song, I retired.

I awoke to coffee and some local sausages that have garnered fame in the state. They were indeed very good.

I struck out and the first thing I detoured for was something called “The Cliffs of Neuse”.

I rolled down a treelined narrow road to the Cliffs of the Neuse State Park, NC, USA.

I ride at triple digit speeds and still arrive hours later than people who travel in cages, specifically to see things like this. Most people miss all the beauty of their nation by not stopping to see anything along the way.

Once I left the state park I rolled across the farmlands spread out over rolling hills to my next two destinations, which I had spied on the way up. As the exhaust purred or roared, depending on who you ask, I wrote a Haiku in my head.

The black ribbon rolls,

Over the hallowed ground won,

We must not forget.

It was absolute Zen in perfect weather for a while, and I arrived to a now quiet town that once the site of some major wartime events.

Kinston is home to the CSS Neuse. She was a Confederate ironclad, scuttled to prevent capture by the forces of evil in the late days of the War of Northern Aggression.

She was plucked from the bottom and made into a museum in Kinston, NC,  so we can all remember the men who fought to prevent the Marxist degenerate named Abe Lincoln from establishing the tyranny of the imperial federal government that plagues us to this day.

There was a really cool antique market nearby as a bonus. Well done NC.

Here is is the website for more information.

Not far from the CSS Neuse was some very hallowed and blood soaked ground. On this place the schemes of one of the worst war criminals of the 19th century were foiled rather decisively by heroic Confederates.

In the last stages of the War of Northern Aggression, the forces of evil under Lincoln the Butcher were intent on moving a rail line through kinston to create a supply line to Eastern NC and link up with the war criminal Gen. Sherman, the masterind of the mass rape and murder of the women and children of Georgia during his infamous March to the Sea.

His bloodlust had him intent on perpetrating a sequel on the innocents of the Carolinas

At the battle of Wyse Fork, March 8, 1865, Gen. Robert Hoke’s Division of the CSA broke the advanced columns led by Cox of the 23rd corps of Yankee scum.

Hoke and his men captured 1500 of the cowardly invaders and 3 pieces of artillery.

On the spot I parked my motorcycle next to, General Braxton Bragg met General Hoke to congratulate him in person on his glorious victory.

This took my mind from Haiku straight to Havamal.

Cattle Die,

Kinsmen Die,

But one thing that never dies,

Are the deeds of a dead man

Hail General Hoke and his heroic Division!

Often there are highways like US17 that have bypasses around towns to keep the trucks from clogging up traffic, but they also divert us around history.

I got off on the US17 Business route and found another little gem, the Foscue Plantation House, built 1824.

There was not much information on the signage, so I looked it up on the web. I copy-pasted what I found because it is pretty good. I definitely want to come see a tour, and it’s not far from my work residence.

“HAVE YOU EVER WONDERED WHAT SOUTHERN PLANTATION LIFE WAS LIKE IN THE 1800’S?

To know what it’s like to share a Thanksgiving dinner where everything on the table came from your own fields and forests? To flee from your home when it’s taken over by unwanted intruders?  If you want to step back in time and find out about a fascinating tale of love and war and the strength of a Southern family, you have come to the right place!

Located on the Trent River in Pollocksville, NC, just south of New Bern, the Foscue Plantation welcomes you to Jones County and to a period in time more than 200 years ago. Built in 1824 by Simon Foscue, Jr., the plantation house has been in the family for nine generations. The décor is high-style ante-bellum and retains a number of original furnishings. In addition, the family has continued to acquire antiques which are correct to the period. Placed on the National Register of Historical Places in 1971, it was one of the first in North Carolina to be so designated. It is definitely a tour you won’t want to miss. With three floors and a working basement, cemetery, garden, forest, plantation land, and the Trent River at the back of the property, there is certainly much to see.”

By now I was developing a thirst and I was hungry again. I saw the town of Pollack was up ahead. I thought to myself, “great I can finally settle the debate about how many of these dudes are needed to change a lightbulb”, but alas it was dead.

As I rolled through Pollack and a few more subsequent towns full of empty buildings, I saw the lichens growing on them and the weeds coming up through cracking concrete and decided they weren’t dead, just going back to nature.

As someone who moved across the US to escape a hell hole almost as bad as much of Europe has become, the Communist Republic of Los Angeles, I find it perfectly acceptable for towns to die off and people to move elsewhere. It’s also a good reminder that everything changes and nature gives no fucks.

This did not resolve my thirst. I barnstormed on my land stuka through the lowlands of the Croatan National Forest and finally came upon the Coastal Haze Restaurant. It’s a new place with a good vibe, indoor/outdoor area, friendly staff, and an interesting menu.

I had a couple local beers, a bowl of shrimp chowder, and a sandwich called “The Vinnie”. I assume whoever thought to put sliced pork and a fried egg on a kaiser roll was named Vinnie. His creation was great, as was everything else.

I am close to finishing this last beer, called Seven Saturdays from the R&D brewery in Raleigh. I am also finishing this article. Next I am going to hit the Emerald Isle and ride to Atlantic Beach.

I love sharing these with you guys but the rest of the day is mine.

I hope you enjoyed the read, learned something, and are inspired to get your bike out of the fucking garage and out on the road where it belongs.

If you are, stop and look around. The monuments, battlefields, and relics that tell the tale of your forebearers are everywhere.

Let them speak to you, inspire you, and lead you to make your own mark on the history of the greatest nation that ever existed.

Happy Thanksgiving and God’s Bless America!