True culture comes from blood. Here today we have a bastardized culture just the same as the make-up of the American people grows increasingly bastar… - James Mason

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True culture comes from blood. Here today we have a bastardized culture just the same as the make-up of the American people grows increasingly bastardized. Then, as the old-timers will readily attest, there is the role of the Jew in what has been called "culture distortion" for his own peculiar purposes and toward his own particular ends. In truth, the West today has no culture. These consumers hang onto the language and customs of a bygone age because they can't come up with anything so organized and intricate on their own. Some of the music aficionados will travel and sit for hours and pay huge sums of money to hear music played of a hundred or two hundred years ago. (Music isn't being written anymore and the language is degenerating into a mass of "ya know's", "f'real's" and "muthafucker's", etc.) They might tell you that, in a democratic society, it's a matter of free choice or of personal taste. Our side will affirm there is such as the "mass taste" which will always tend toward mediocrity. But the trick, as always, about any so-called democracy is that it is one big loop hole, gaping wide like an open invitation to all the sharpies and hucksters to move in and take over. That is what already took place here generations ago. And then the question of "free choice" becomes a moot one as it is all relegated to only those "choices" the taste-makers see fit to place before you. (Control of mass taste and opinion is absolutely no different than control of so-called "democratic" elections: the manipulators present two of their favorite dummies for you to pick from. Either way, you lose.) I'll use myself this time as a case in point. My meeting with my own culture was by complete accident. I could have been no more than ten years of age when, over the FM radio of my father's car, I caught the sounds of music such as I had never heard before. I didn't know what it was or who wrote it but I knew it was reaching out to me. And I must emphasize that it reached out not as anything prescribed socially but instead like a call of the wild. Here was culture and, as a product of blood, something in my blood was responding. After I had managed to get together a basic selection of classical and romantic music, I found out it has been one of Brahms' Hungarian Dances. Blood to blood. The feeling was identical to learning the name of a beautiful girl one has seen on the street and fallen instantly in love with.