Daily Stormer The Most Censored Publication in History
On Sunday, I wrote a piece explaining I was quitting the weekly news.
That was just a big joke. I was just trolling you. I’m just going to keep writing inane items about pointless news updates until I die in poverty from liver disease at the age of 61, at which point, management of the website will be turned over to my brain tumor.
No, no. I’m joking. I am quitting the news, but I don’t think the thing I wrote was totally clear on what that means. Here I will give a clear, concise, tight explanation of future plans.
Basically, I’m done doing daily news updates, saying things that are really obvious to me over and over again. The reason I was doing this is because that’s what keeps people visiting the site every day. But it doesn’t really matter if people visit the site every day. Those people already understand most of this stuff. Because of the censorship, there is no way to really grow the readership. Not only am I personally banned on every social media website, you can’t link the site on any social media website, and I am effectively totally de-listed on Google. The only way to get to the site is to type the URL in the search bar. How can anyone new ever find the site? It’s virtually impossible.
So I’m not spreading a message in a meaningful way. Basically, I’m just entertaining the same group of people every day. I’m not getting anything out of it personally, and although I have some fun, it largely feels like a slog. And I’m not getting paid. So the single reason to keep doing this would be to entertain this static group of people, the overwhelming majority of whom will not pay me.
Frankly, I’m glad people aren’t paying, at this point. For a long time, it was frustrating. Like, “come on, bro, wtf, you’re reading this shit every day, that’s like 2 hours of your week, just send me $25 a year, seriously bro, wtf, why?” But the thing is: if every reader was throwing me $25 a year, I’d be paying for the site and making a respectable living, and I would just keep doing it until I was dead. Obviously, money is not anywhere close to my primary concern, or I wouldn’t be doing this ridiculous self-destructive behavior, running this website and totally ruining my life. But if there was steady and reliable money, honestly, I think I would keep doing it, because at least I’m keeping a record of the truth and so on.
But now, there’s nothing holding me back, and I can push myself into something else, which is actually going to result in something much more interesting. I have all these things I want to do, and the work on this site has largely prevented me from having the time to do them. Like, for example, I have this novel, which you will like (or maybe you’ll hate it and think it’s shit, I don’t know), which I need 200 hours to finish. Approximately. If I cut this news, I can do that, maybe first. I can also do my normal, simple book, just outlining the truth about all of these various issues in a more refined and professional way. I can write this book about Indians (feather, not dot – I already wrote my book about dot Indians and it was just two words: “NUKE IT.”)
The thing I want to make clear is that the site is not going away. I have a very particular set of skills. I can produce 50,000 words a week, all of them good. So I’m going to keep the site alive, posting longer, better essays every week, maybe two, one, three, whatever. I might also write shorter things about current events that I want to write about. More or less, it’s going to stop being a daily news site, and more of a blog. Basically, I think most people will think the site is better. It’s possible I’ll get some other writers, and try to get something new up every day, so people can still check it every morning and find something fresh. But I’m not committing to that right now.
I will, for the time-being, commit to continuing to post Memetic Monday, along with some essays, maybe some other stuff, and of course, I will keep people updated about the books. I might also do a weekly podcast, though I’m not going to commit to that. Yet. I would like to make money, but it would be difficult to make less money than I do now, regardless of what I do.
I am also planning on taking a significant vacation, where I won’t post anything because I’m going to be in a cabin in the woods, brooding like some kind of vile psychopath. But I’m going to wait until summer.
Also, to be clear, this is going to wind down. I am not stopping today. I haven’t set a date. But I’m going to stop with the news articles, at some point, maybe the end of the month.
I’m actually really excited. It felt very liberating to finally pull the trigger after having worked this through in my head six million times over and realizing that if I want to push my goals, which include white supremacy and ridding the West of the Jew pest, along with other important missions, I need to be doing something different than lounging around in this ghetto, wasting my genius on pointless news items that actually affect nothing.
They would affect something, or rather my commentary would, if people were seeing it, but it’s all just you guys seeing it. See above reasoning: the only way for someone new to start reading this website is to be told about it either in person, like I guess at a bar or a coffee shop or something, or to receive a link by email. You can’t send links on Twitter or Facebook, even in private messages (at least on Facebook; I haven’t confirmed it on Twitter, but the block rules are usually the same for public posting and DMs). On Google, if you just type “Daily Stormer,” you have to scroll to I think page three to find the site. No one gets any of the keywords, ever, it’s all buried.
I am the greatest. One time, when the domain switched because the Rwandans sold me out (even though I gave them the idea to invade the DRC), I got a new domain that was not blocked by Google and some throwaway crap I wrote ended up at the top of Google News.
Previously, my underlying premise was that I needed to keep doing this in order to prove that the censorship didn’t work. But the censorship obviously did work. I can keep a couple million readers, okay, but these are the same people. Then the logic becomes that these people will spread the ideas, and of course all of these influencers copy my material, so I thought that’s worthwhile. Maybe it is worthwhile, sort of, but I am the master of analysis, and the ultimate redpiller, and I can do a lot better than this.
Right now, most of the articles do not stand on their own. They are meant to be read together, over a period of time, so you start to learn the themes and understand where I’m going with all of this. That is a great model, which I invented, but it can only be effective if the site can be spread through social media and search.
What I have come to understand is that the censorship has locked me down, and the fact that I’m keeping the site online, and soldiering on, is just keeping me from doing other things, which could have a bigger impact.
Books can be spread as e-books, and passed around wherever. Longer and more polished essays can be spread around in various ways, reposted on other sites.
Having the time to do fiction, which I am a bit shy about but which I think is going to be very well received, also provides another point of entry. I’m not writing political fiction, by the way. I’m not writing the Turner Diaries. I want to write stuff that is edgy, and has themes that resonate with my philosophies, but I’m not going to write political fiction, because that is gay and it sucks. I mean, the Turner Diaries is sort of awesome and hilarious, but it’s frankly a bit ridiculous as well. But this stuff will be good. I can promise you that. No, I can’t promise that, actually. It could be garbage. But the two fiction pieces I’ve published here I wrote in a couple hours with no editing and I think they were quite a bit of fun, and people asked for more.
See:
Those were definitely not great. But it’s because fiction requires a lot more work than just spewing your thoughts out. I wrote those stories like I write articles. They could be much better.
I recently had a dream about moving in a house with an old friend and there was a door in the basement that led to a place where all of the people we knew from our lives lived in an ideal form in a kind of paradise, which sort of looked like Oz or where the Teletubbies live, and we went there and everyone was kind and lovely, then my friend went in and started murdering them. Then people in robes who were in an order that protects the fabric of realities came and put us both on trial. I have the notes, it doesn’t really totally make sense, but there was something there, and if I had 20 hours, instead of the standard 3 hours I get for a long essay, I could make something out of it. I would need to figure out what exactly it meant. It had to do with innocence, and the fact that the only reason people hurt other people is that someone else hurt them, and you have this cycle that goes back to Cain killing Abel, where people do evil things to others because evil things were done to them, and how we’re really all just like scared children in this world.
I also had a dream a few weeks ago about this hostel where people do sick sexual shit with each other, use each other up, and then they become plants that an old woman cares for. I fell in love with this beautiful girl, and she told me we would get married and live in a house with so many children, and grow old together, and then we fell asleep together and I woke up to a noise and peeked through a door to see her getting gang-banged in a candlelit room with pentagrams in it by men in animal masks. Then the next day, I realized she’d become a plant, and the old woman told me “don’t worry dear, I will see that she’s watered.” Then I drove away in an old VW Bug, and then looked down at my hands on the wheel to see they were turning brown and there were leaves beginning to grow from my flesh. I then realized that I hadn’t been watching the gang-bang, but actually participating in it. The meaning in this was more straightforward: people surrendering their souls to the desires of the flesh, the way we can give up the things that are sacred for fleeting indulgences, and we beings with eternal souls end up being nothing more than dust to go into the ground, feeding the plants, and that even having used ourselves up, our atomic structure goes back into the earth to create more life. But that is a bit grotesque, that one. Frankly, the one about the basement portal with my friend murdering all of these sweet innocent people was also pretty grotesque.
The point is, those were not the best dreams I’ve had. I have all kinds of dreams. The good ones I wouldn’t share here, because if I tell people about a story I want to do, it sort of ruins my ability to write it most of the time. But I’ve got all of the best dreams, folks, with the most interesting themes, that are not about like, “now that the government has fallen, we have to kill all the niggers because of the Aryan race and the beauty of our women, I’ve been divorced five times but I have a sweet compound with a frigging gun range, and I’m not saying blow up the federal building because your skin is your uniform.”
I would actually write a parody of a right-wing political novel. But right now, I have an almost finished parody of a romance novel, which I am a bit concerned women will actually get off on, but that is basically already finished. I have all of the things.
If I can’t keep up daily articles, then I’m going to have to change the name of the site to “Intermittent Stormer.”
The real question is, will I continue to publish rambling ridiculous garbage that just goes in circles and barely makes sense while half drunk after the Super Bowl, drinking White Monster because I feel like I need to constantly, even the day after I said I was not going to do this? “Hey, it’s the middle of the night, I’m half drunk, let me juice up, maybe put a double scoop of preworkout in for good measure, then write a repetitive circular nonsense thing that goes on forever about how I’m going to stop writing things like this.”
Oh, I thought of a top notch joke a few minutes ago, before I started writing this (27 minutes ago, according to the timestamp, 2,300 words of totally worthless garbage that will drain me of all of my creative energies for the next four hours): “I like my women how I like my Monster: white and full of mood-altering chemicals.”
But the real reveal here is: I was going to bet the farm on the Chiefs, because this whole thing has been so completely rigged, this big satanic ordeal with Taylor the Tranny and Pfizer Trav ensuring the threefer because of crooked refs and the NFL now being basically a much more boring version of pro-wrestling. Then I realized, right before making a bet, that the vibe has changed across the board, and the bluepilled wokesters are going to have to flee to their safespace, so Tay was going to lose. And even if she wasn’t, I wasn’t putting money on The Devil’s Chiefs of Kikesus Shitty. So I moved my “farm” chip to the “Not Taylor” box, and then watched the Chiefs get wrecked like Tranny Tay would wreck the women’s beachball team. I want to thank Johnny Walker, Jack Daniels, and Jose Canseco for making this decision for me.
Basically, I doubled the farm, and now I can retire, and I’m not only not writing the news, I’m not writing anything. I’m going into complete retirement right in the middle of my midlife crisis. I’m typing this in the front seat of the brand new Z06 I just bought, as I’m driving with my knees and winking at the 14-year-old Mongolian girl I successfully bride-kidnapped from some shithole village.
We swooped through Dubai and I just dropped a few hundies on this bad bitch’s negress-style nails, we hit the mall and “shawty” is decked out in “drip” that is “pure fire.”
Kids these days smdh.
