A Dearth of Intelligence
James J. O'Meara
Robert Durst, Jinx or Jew?
“What the hell did I do? Killed them all of course.” — Robert Durst
One of the oddities of the current scene is that only White Nationalists, or “race realists,” are allowed to mention the intelligence of the Jews. In fact, they seem to have a shameful obsession with it, especially the latter group, who seem to think it can provide evidence for another of their hobby-horses, the all-pervasive relevance of IQ and genetics.
Among this group we hear dark whispers, or envious whining, of the fearsome Ashkenazi program of selecting especially smart tailors and dairymen, arranging their marriages and frequent reproduction, and thereby engineering a general lifting of the European Jew’s IQ.
Usually, there is an aside, in which the old Protestant myth of the Roman Church doing the reverse, selecting the intelligent among the peasants and confining them to celibacy and monasteries, is morosely recalled. The Protestant is the Eddie Dezen of religions, always bullying others to curry favor with its big buddy, Judaism.
One problem with the super-intelligent Jew meme is the remarkable dearth of science and culture among the Jews as such. I say, “as such,” meaning among themselves, outside of their participation in the Dead White Man’s world.
Prior to their “liberation” by Napoleon, the intelligence and industry of the Jew was devoted exclusively to the study and explication of the Torah, the Talmud, and, if he still had any life in him, the Qabbala. If this is culture, then Bob Jones University is Harvard.
And in the present day, now in possession, more or less, of their “own” country and fully-subsidized by the goyim, one would imagine Israel, The Jewish State, would be pouring forth masterpieces of the arts and sciences. Instead, apart from some software companies — nothing but crickets, or locusts.
But another problem is this: supposing this Lamarckian conspiracy theory is true, what if, as breeders all know, breeding for one desirable characteristic brings along other, less wholesome traits? Especially when done with the pre-Mendelian ideas of the resolutely anti-secular knowledge rabbis?
Consider the great “Jewish Geniuses.” Has any one person been responsible for more pain and death than Marx or Freud?
And Einstein? Sure, general relativity sounds pretty good, though he might have stolen it from Poincare. But Sophocles was a pretty wise man, for a goy, and he famously said “Count no man happy until he dies.” In short, or in New Yorkese (to anticipate our theme): “we’ll see.” If mankind annihilates itself, or the Israelis enact the “Samson option,” I’d say any future, alien history would suggest nuclear fission was, in the long wrong, a net loss.
In short, then, what if, on balance, the Ashkenazi are smart; but Hannibal — excuse me, Dr. Hannibal — Lekter smart?
Comes now a six part HBO series The Jinx — The Life and Deaths of Robert Durst, premiering in February and March, 2015.
From Andrew Jarecki and Marc Smerling (the Oscar® nominees behind Capturing the Friedmans), comes The Jinx: The Life and Deaths of Robert Durst, a six-part examination of the reclusive millionaire at the heart of three killings spanning four decades. Robert Durst, the scion of a New York real estate empire, has long been a suspect in the notorious 1982 disappearance of his wife, Kathie [McCormack]. Further suspicion was raised with the unsolved killing of his confidante, Susan Berman, thought to be a key witness in the investigation into Kathie’s disappearance in 2000, as well as the subsequent killing and dismemberment of a neighbor in Galveston, Texas. Durst has consistently maintained his innocence and remains a free man today.
It says something about the modern world, or modern America, that one has to ask: is Robert Durst in fact a Jew? The filmmakers have been as meticulous as any crime scene investigators — or serial killer — in removing or withholding any tell-tale evidence thereof. No yarmulkes, no film or stills of young Bob’s bar mitzvah (one can only imagine the crass opulence displayed), no film of Bob receiving the grateful thanks of some Judaic organization.
Thanks to the internets, of course, it’s an easy matter to confirm:
Durst’s paternal grandfather, Joseph Durst, a penniless Jewish immigrant tailor from Austria-Hungary, eventually became a very successful real estate manager and developer, founding the Durst Organization in 1927.
“Eventually” is a nice touch. I wonder what the story there is. No funny business at all, I’m sure, just hard work, pluck, and the chance America gives its immigrant guests. From rags to real estate fortune, only in America!
Even more interesting is this sidelight:
Durst went on to become a real estate developer in his father’s business; however, it was his brother Douglas who was later appointed to run the family business. The appointment in the 1990s caused a rift between Robert and his family, and he became estranged from them.
Fascinating, since the Holy Book of Jewish Fairytales is most notable, after being a record of gleeful genocide, as a series of tales in which a Jewish “hero” proves his worth by deceiving others, mostly the ignorant goyim (the fleecing of which is expressly permitted by the tribal deity they have taught the Christians to so arrogantly arrogate the name “God” itself, YHVH-1).
So pervasive, that a subtheme emerges in which the thievery and deceit is internalized, and brother preys on brother, not just Cain and Abel right from the start, but other pairs, most notably Jacob (whose name means “he usurps”) and Esau.
So it’s no surprise to read, in the New York Times of January 2015, older brother Douglas saying about Robert “There’s no doubt in my mind that if he had the opportunity to kill me, he would.”
Dougie needn’t have worried; rather than turning inward, Bob directed his attention to the wide open spaces of his host country, first murdering his shiksa wife, then his “confidante” who had moved to LA, then — the murder of a mere tribeswoman, apparently unsatisfying — shooting and dismembering a neighboring drifter in Galveston, TX.
An especially egregious example the talents of Jacob is how Durst flim-flams a jury of good ol’ boys (and girls) that the most damning evidence against him — the dismemberment and attempted disposal of the body, surely not the act of an innocent or even sane man — was, in fact, irrelevant. The charge was murder (not defiling a corpse), and the jury was supposed to consider only whether the State could prove that; which, of course, it couldn’t, the head, where the shot was fired, being missing, due to Bob’s dismemberment and disposal of the body.
“I didn’t murder my friend,” he says, “but I did dismember him.”
Contrary to the media myth of “them redneck anti-Semites,” the good Judeo-Christians fell all over themselves to turn the other cheek, do unto others, and all the rest of their nauseating creed, eager to curry favor with the Lord by “not judging” one of God’s special lambs.
“When Mr. Durst was on the stand, I felt he was talking from the heart.”
Well, I guess that would explain the hollow reverb. We’ll get back to Bob’s voice in a moment.
I have no doubt that Bob himself came up with this eminently Talmudic strategy, perhaps even before the dismemberment idea itself. But even if it came from his high-priced lawyers, it matters not; the legal system, the natural hunting grounds of the Torah-trained Judaic, has been thoroughly Judaizied, and only those WASPs and Erse flourish, who have Judaized themselves.
In his interviews filmed in current time, Durst appears to be a nice, well-preserved though somewhat scrawny old man (he’s 71). Looking at him, he reminded me of the rich young man (wealth does keep one young) that infuriates Joe Lampton when he looks around his new town in Room at the Top:
Everything about him was easy and loose but not tired or sloppy. He had an undistinguished face with a narrow forehead and mousy hair cut short with no oil on it. It was a rich man’s face, smooth with assurance and good living.
As he speaks, however, the façade cracks, the mask slips. Anyone who’s lived in New York, or Miami, or Beverly Hills will instantly recognize the type. The facial tics, the smirk (as uncontrollable as Strangelove’s arm), and above all, the voice, the smooth voice that tries to sound like Long Island Lockjaw but can’t keep that supercilious sneer out of it.
In the first interview (Episode 4), Bob comments on the trial strategy thusly:
The most intriguing moment of the episode occurred when Durst (in the present) was told that they should take a break by the documentary’s filmmaker Andrew Jarecki. However, Durst sat in his chair and began muttering some practiced phrases to himself.
“I did not knowingly, purposefully lie,” he whispered to himself, saying it again and adding the word “intentionally” to the phrase. “I did make mistakes,” he added.
Durst’s lawyers then came over to tell him that his mic was still on and that they were able to hear everything, but he did not seem to care at all.
It’s the voice of the Talmudist, bobbing up and down, repeating his goy-deluding gobbledy-gook. Earlier, Bob recalls his lawyers telling him to swear to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, but to ignore that part about the whole truth:
“I did not tell the whole truth. [Pause] Nobody tells the whole truth.”
The sneer, the toss of the head, the eyelid tic, you can just hear him complete the thought in his head:
Only a goy would be so stupid.
If only Bob could keep his thoughts to himself. But not only does he mutter like this in public, in the second interview (Episode 6), he takes foot-shooting to a new level. The interview is over, he excuses himself to the bathroom, and despite the debacle of the first interview, keeps his mike on again. (Perhaps he thinks the bathroom is soundproof?) As Bob attends to his business, we hear:
“There it is. You’re caught . . . What the hell did I do? Killed them all of course.”
Well, stupid is as stupid does, I suppose. The only way to understand Bob’s blunders — other than senility — is that, like Jews in the West in general, he’s been so successful at pulling the wool over the eyes of the sheeple that he’s gotten a little over-confident, a little cocky (or, too cocky, he having been cocky as his birthright).
And indeed, I have no doubt Bob will walk again. I can hear his lawyers now:
What, you thought he was serious? That’s funny, it’s funny that you would think that. Clearly he was being ironic. Don’t you know about irony, our people’s sense of humor that has preserved us through centuries of oppression?
As yes, those centuries of oppression. Just like Bob, pursued from pillar to post, for no reason at all, by those meshuganah goyim.
The tale of The Life and Deaths of Robert Durst is the story of the Jews in White civilization, especially in America; his life, our deaths.
 “Gee, I wish we had one of them Doomsday Machines!” — Gen. Buck Turgidson, Dr. Strangelove.
 Just as the Jews are proud to acknowledge The Myth, priests are proud to only mildly pooh-pooh a myth that implies they are smarter than average. In fact, as anyone who knows history, or has interacted with priests, knows they are hardly the cream of the crop; in mediaeval times, their ignorance and illiteracy was proverbial. And nuns! If they taught you, or later you taught them, you know what I’m talking about. My mentor, Dr. Deck, a graduate of the Pontifical Institute, sneered that modern “Thomists” based their ideas on the two Summas, one written for Arabs, the other for nuns.
 As relentlessly documented by Israel Shahak: Jewish History, Jewish Religion The Weight of Three Thousand Years; Foreword by Gore Vidal (London: Pluto Press, 2008); online here.
 The study of which was reserved for elders who had already mastered the first two; sorry, Madonna.
 Of course, the Ptolomeans here add another epicycle: the Talmud itself is a tool to sharpen the wits!
 Despite the feverish efforts of the Judeo-Cons to promote the idea of Islamofascism and the unique depravity of the Koran, the first suicide terrorist (or “homicide terrorist,” to use the Foxism) was, of course, Samson, another “hero” of the Good Book. The Jew hysterically points elsewhere — especially his brother Semite, the sons of Ishmael — to distract attention to his own disease. Say, isn’t “De.” Charles Krauthammer a practitioner of the Freudian voodoo?
 Einstein’s “contribution” was more than just theoretical; while German scientists dragged their heels, Einstein relentlessly beat the brows of his Golem, FDR, to hurry up and produce a bomb to nuke the Germans.
 Michael Mann changed the names of both “Lektor” and “Dolarhyde” in Manhunter, his version of the book Red Dragon, to sound “less Jewish” as Mel Brooks might say; presumably to avoid the charge of anti-Semitism, or perhaps as a good Shabbos goy?
 Yockey emphasized how America, with its lack of roots and even its anti-traditional “tradition,” was especially helpless before the Judaic onslaught. Hitler sneered that America was the Jews’ new Promised Land.
 All scholars not attached to evangelical colleges agree that the tales of Hebrew conquest are entirely fictional, the Hebrews having arisen quite naturally among the indigenous tribes of that godforsaken land. Every nation and people embellishes their past; but given the chance to fictionalize, this is what they came up with? What does that tell you about their psychology? It’s as if Howard Zinn wrote the first history of the USA, and Pastor Weems came along later.
 The story of Joseph combines both themes: his brothers sell him into slavery, which allows him to swindle the Egyptians,
 “Real Estate Chief Fears Troubled Sibling Has New Weapon: TV; Douglas Durst, in Rare Move, Speaks About Robert Durst Ahead of HBO Documentary,” New York Times, Jan. 1, 2015, here.
 At least, not yet. The HBO filmmakers show Bob skulking around the Durst offices, and in January he was arrested for violating Douglas’ restraining order by sauntering up the stairs to his townhouse (also on film).
 Whose father was an associate of Las Vegas mobsters Bugsy Siegel and Meyer Lansky.
 One can just hear the boys of MST3K mimicking the old salsa commercial: “Neeew York City!”
 The only thing funnier than the “white patriots” who squawk when someone mentions the “debt we owe” to the Torah, is the efforts of Eddie Deezen’s like “Justice” Scalia to ever more explicitly endorse the Torah as “the Law of the Land.”
 “Jimmy McGill” is already a Chicago shyster; his need to transform himself into “Saul Goodman,” because it impresses his immigrant and Mexican drug cartel clients in the Southwest, summarizes the degeneration of the post-war American legal profession, and perhaps America itself.
 Room at the Top, Chapter Three (1957; Valancourt, 2013).
 Or, as Durst would write, “Beverley Hills.”
 He reminds me of a handsomer Martin Kosleck, a “German-Russian” who fled Hitler and made a career in Hollywood B movies and TV: According to the Times, “Mr. Kosleck’s icy demeanor and piercing stare on screen made him a popular choice to play Nazi villains. He portrayed Joseph Goebbels, Adolf Hitler’s propaganda minister, five times, and also appeared as an SS trooper and a concentration-camp officer.” The decline of the “Nazi Villain” led him to branch out into mad scientist parts, but the Cold War provided opportunities to play his “Russian” angle. In Agent for H.A.R.M. (1966) his Eastern European bad guy is, in a weird B-movie touch, surrounded by henchmen who look and sound like they stepped out of the Abercrombie and Fitch catalog (and one who looks like Prince), which is mercilessly parodied on the MST3k episode (#815); “I wouldn’t want to put a lead pill into the old family jewels.”
 There’s a clear, to me at least, fart sound in the middle of this. Such is Bob’s contempt for the justice system: “I fart in your general direction”: see Monty Python and the Holy Grail (Jones & Gilliam, 1975). The bathroom business can’t help but recall the bumptious alien intruding on WASP civilization, and rather than conform to its “repressions” instead formulating subversive “intellectual” campaigns for “letting it all hang out, daddy-O.” See John Murray Cuddihy, The Ordeal of Civility: Freud, Marx, Levi-Strauss, and the Jewish Struggle with Modernity (Boston: Basic Books, 1974).
 If Bob Odenkirk isn’t available, consider Martin Short’s Nathan Thurm, here.
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