I just finished listening to Greg Johnson’s interview with Mark Dyal  on Counter-Currents Radio. Dyal’s journey from smug anti-racist skate punk and Public Enemy fan to Black Studies major to Nietzschean skinhead fascist was at once fascinating and familiar.
There’s a saying on the old right that goes something like, “though we’re pleased when the town whore comes to church, we take pause when she wants to lead the sermons.” I think I’ve seen it applied to me, and if it hasn’t been, it certainly could be.
I’m certainly not “of the right.” I grew up watching MTV, like everyone else my age—except maybe those Mennonite kids down the road. When I went to art school in New York, the first book reading I ever went to was for Camille Paglia’s Vamps and Tramps. I was a country boy fascinated by bizarre performance art and Jean-Paul Gaultier and the future and everything that seemed NEW and exciting in the early 1990s. I went out to nightclubs and did key bumps off the fist of a flamboyant murderer  who became my mentor and employer. It was a place and a pocket in time—just before Giuliani—as decadent and debauched as Weimar Berlin.
It wasn’t until I moved to Los Angeles and managed the office of an interior designer in Beverly Hills that I really understood how grotesque and evil the American Dream has become, and maybe always was. It took a while to put it all into context—to read different things and think different thoughts and understand what was wrong. As I recently prepared my first book  for a second printing, I cringed a bit at how liberal—how liberationist—it was. I’m still learning and thinking, as thinking men always should.
It wasn’t so long ago that Americans lived in a patriarchal civilization run by and largely for white men. But it wasn’t in my lifetime. I have no memory of authentic ancestral Tradition in the Evolian, capital “T” sense of the word. I’m a man of my time. I’m an American. I come from the modern, capitalist, feminist, technocracy where almost everything once taboo is now permissible and God is completely optional. I’m a product of the Enlightenment and materialism and SCIENCE!
It’s an article of faith among mainstream liberals that all opposition on the right comes from backward, isolated, uneducated rednecks and the cynical fat-cat war-mongering industrialists who goad them good ole boys into foreign wars and feed ‘em Chick-Fil-A. The problem, as they see it, is that the right gets it wrong because they simply haven’t heard the good word.
I agree with Kurtagić and Dugin  that, “Westerners think in liberal terms by default, assuming that no sane, rational, educated person could think differently, accusing dissenters of being ideological, without realizing that their own assumptions have ideological origins.” The Apple demographic is probably right that “conservatives” are just short bus liberals who aren’t quite up to speed—who want to “go a little slower, or take a few steps back.”
We were all born into the liberal whorehouse. We’ve all indulged in its vices and sampled its sins. The differences between us are a matter of degree, and of which sins. Purity is a pose, a blame game of “purer than thou.”
The old boys’ club—the iron fist that stands up for virility and hierarchy and order—survives only as the ghost of patriarchy’s past. The old right is a scary bedtime story for naughty little boys and girls and mixed race transpersons.
Any American New Right will rise from the suffocating slop of liberalism, gasping for air and shouting “NO MORE!”
Any American New Right that means anything will be more revolutionary than reactionary.
Any American New Right that matters will be made up of enthusiastic converts to a new-old faith, hot for a makeshift tent revival. The New Right will, necessarily, be a church full of old whores preaching brand new sermons. It won’t be old time religion. Not quite. It will have to be a candle waving archipelago of cults saying prayers, making grand and gory sacrifices to bring about a brand new age.
There will be many more conversion stories of how men and women came to the new faith, so many that they will become repetitive and boring. One of the big challenges will be to avoid getting bogged down in those meta-narratives of conversion—those “coming out” stories—and to find constructive pathways for new converts. In some cases, the old priests of liberalism may be the ones best suited to turn it against itself.