A Girl Forgotten

I wish I was the rain because I would actually have a purpose. I wish I could douse the trees and plants to give them growth, and I wish I could make the rivers flow more smoothly. I wish I can be buried deep in the ground and provide for people. Though they don’t have much thought about me. I wish I could come ang go unexpectedly and be free with in the air and ground, but I’m not. Instead kids get upset that I ruined there plans and others curse because they have to walk and get soaked. Some nature being unhappy because I flood the area I wanted to take care of the most and ruin everything I tried to fix…

I wish I was the rain so I could be free. Free to be whoever I wanted and free to being wherever I went. I wish kids were happy to see me and I wish construction wasn’t difficult because of me but it’s not. Many people might hate the rain and That’s okay because, believe it or not I would already be used to it…“

_{Written by Daisy “Jupiter” Paulsen, from the back of the flyer I was given at the memorial. Original text is preserved.}

I made a long drive today. Not a long drive for a Midwesterner, of course – in the Midwest, six hours one way is just a day trip, as the saying goes.

I made a drive to Fargo, North Dakota, to attend the memorial service of Daisy “Jupiter” Paulsen, a fourteen year old White girl who was stalked and brutally murdered by Arthur Prince Kollie, a Liberian Nigger.

And he was a Nigger. A disgusting, evil Nigger. To suggest calling him such a thing is wrong or evil is a sign that you believe the word Nigger is worse than torturing a fourteen year old girl to death. Which is what this creature did. From the words of her father, Robert Paulsen:

“She is a victim of a random attack,” her dad Robert wrote in the description for Paulsen’s GoFundMe and said the attacker “beaten, strangled, and stabbed my daughter 25 times.”

This made some waves in the broader White Nationalist community. There was outrage, shock, much decrying of the evil of Kollie. And there were the usual detractors.

“She’s not White, she’s White Hispanic!” cries the forum sperg desperate to not give a shit.

“She was into gay pride!” Cries the guy who posts ironic “nice cock bro” memes on Telegram.

She was a fourteen year old White girl raised in 2021 in Fargo. Next to Minneapolis or Omaha, it’s one of the gayest places in this region of the country. Since when were children responsible for their own ideological views? Even her father isn’t truly to blame for this. Robert Paulsen is obviously a normal, everyday man, desperate to raise his daughter in a world gone completely insane. And let’s be honest, a fourteen year old girl doesn’t understand sexuality, not really. She understands what she is told by her school, and the television, and the movies – that being gay is quirky, and trendy, and not at all a deviant and in the end life-destroying form of long-term suicide.

And so what is a father, who likely is far more concerned with keeping his daughter fed and happy and healthy than the broader political movements in America, over which he has no say, to do?

It is not the duty of the normal man to stand against the tide of both the whole world and his entire family. That’s the duty of Heroes. The duty of the Vanguard.

So where was the Vanguard?

They weren’t at Daisy Paulsen’s Memorial. It was just me.

And in fact, I arrived late – not of my own volition. As it turns out, the news site I heard about the memorial through had a bad editor. The memorial didn’t start at 5:00pm Central, it ended at that time. Thankfully, as is my habit, I arrived a few minutes early, and the memorial itself went a few minutes late, so I was able to catch at least some of it before it was all over.

There were a couple speeches, the usual funeral fare. Not to disparage those who made them – what can you really say when a loved one has been brutally taken from you? I doubt I would have said anything better, or more profound. There aren’t words for the pain that I have no doubt they feel, and so you rely on tried and true turns of phrase.

Daisy’s father, Robert Paulsen, was the last to speak. He spoke of how much his daughter meant to those around her. He spoke about how he was talking to leading members of the “Liberian Community of Fargo” (a phrase I never thought I would hear, I admit), and how they were helping him to heal and shared his desire for justice.

He spoke about how the Mayor, and the City Police Commissioner, were present, and how this proved the City was committed to making sure something like this wouldn’t happen again. How he hoped that this tragedy would lead to unity, and peace, and safety for the community.

I can already hear the scoffing and guffaws from the White Nationalists in my circles. And they are, of course, correct. The Mayor and the Police Commissioner are the City that allowed this to happen. They are the ones allowing repeat offenders like Kollie to walk the streets, which were once safe for little girls to walk home through. The “Liberian Community of Fargo” isn’t going to police its own people – what are they going to do, a seminar on “here’s why you shouldn’t torture little girls to death?” Of course not.

It is likely that that same scoffing and guffawing will be targeted at Robert Paulsen as well.

“Cuck!” Cried the thirty-three year old childless man behind a Moon Man avatar.

Obviously, the real solution here was for Robert Paulsen to call out the media, the justice system, and the “Liberian Community of Fargo” for being Anti-White. The fact that he is seeking a way to find justice inside the system, the only system available, is just crazy. Why isn’t he going full 1488 GTKRWN? Why hasn’t he put on a skull mask? Why did he do a candlelight vigil with the same kind of people that killed his daughter?

Maybe it isn’t because he’s some kind of beta loser who hates his race.

Maybe, just maybe, it is because they showed up.

Why would Robert Paulsen adopt the talking points of White Nationalism? For one thing, how would he have heard them? We aren’t exactly easy to find. And while the blame for that can be placed upon the likes of Google and Facebook and Twitter, White Nationalists knew about this story. They knew who it happened to. They knew where he was. Myself included.

And even if he had known our talking points, what would he get out of embracing them? His GoFundMe to pay his daughters bills would have been shut down. We could have likely raised a similar amount of funds internally, but it would undeniably be more difficult. He would have been smeared in the media, and fired from his job. For what? The approval of some “Elite Vanguard” that can’t even be asked to make a few hour drive to pay respects?

I can already hear the excuses.

“I had to work.”

“It was too far away.”

“I don’t see what it accomplishes.”

These same people will have no problem asking time off to attend a White Nationalist event to go drinking with the boys. These same people will drive long distance to go on a hate hike, or attend a rally of masked men.

And these are important things. Good things. Necessary things.

So was this.

Imagine, if you will, a scenario where, upon learning of the death of this girl, it was fifteen to twenty White Nationalists, not Liberians, who approached Robert Paulsen? He’s obviously angry about his daughter’s death. He has good instincts, he knows what happened to her was a crime of hate. Real hate, not the bullshit “hate” of White Men who take their own side that the media constantly vomits story after story about.

Maybe he would have taken a different tack. Maybe he would actually have felt he had the permission, the ability, to call out this anti-White system. If he’d known there were hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of men willing to stand behind him, who cared deeply about the death of his daughter, as so many claimed to.

Except they don’t. Like I said earlier, if you claim you shouldn’t call a Nigger a Nigger, it shows you find the word Nigger to be worse than the crime said Nigger committed. If you want to talk about the travesty of the torturous murder of a fourteen year old White girl at the hands of said Nigger, how this is a sign of the destruction of our country, how this is something that must be fought, and can’t even be bothered to make a trip to pay respects, then how much do you really care?

I know what people will say. “We can’t care about every White person killed by a nigger. We’d be going to funerals all the time.”

You claimed to care about this one. You talked about her. Maybe even shook your head and said “What the fuck is wrong with this country” while you were drinking and hanging out with the boys a couple weeks back.

I told everyone I knew. I got some props for going – as if that’s why I went. And I’ll freely admit, I went primarily in my capacity as a Z-List E-Celeb in hopes of finding something to put on my website. When I left on my hours-long drive to Fargo, I expected when I returned to write a long diatribe about the horrors of Black on White Crime in America, and how nothing is being done about it. I suppose I still am, in a way.

When George Floyd, a stupid, violent, methamphetamine and fentanyl addicted criminal nigger, died of a heart attack in police custody, the anti-Whites went wild for over a year. They burned down cities, raped and murdered and pillaged and plundered. They changed the names of streets and forced the “Authorities” to bend the knee for Saint Fent.

Did they have the assistance and tacit approval of the elites? Of course. Are many of them professional activists, funded by jewish NGOs? Obviously. Do they get treated with kids gloves by the media and the legal system? You bet your ass they do.

I’m not asking you for a months-long campaign of relentless activism. I’m not really asking for activism at all, in the traditional sense.

I’m asking you to give a shit. A modicum of it.

If we’re the “Vanguard,” the “Intellectual Elite,” the “Racially Aware,” we’re doing a remarkable job at not doing any of the things that would be implied to be the responsibilities of holders of those oh so vaunted and well respected abstract ideals.

You would think if a little girl being tortured to death merited our attention and outrage, then it would also merit some actual physical display of solidarity and support. Apparently it doesn’t.

I debated writing this article at all. I’m sure there will be plenty of people who don’t like it, who will find some way to justify themselves and tell me I’m blackpilled, or overdramatic, or, probably, a Fed, for daring to suggest people take a step out of their comfort zones. I decided I don’t care.

Could you have gone? If you had honestly tried, could you? Could you have gotten that day off? Made the drive? Carpooled with some buddies to save on gas? Maybe stay with a friend in the area to defray costs if you decided to stay overnight?

If those apply to you, and you’re getting booty blasted at me while reading this article, maybe you need to do some self reflection. It’s what I’ve been doing for the past six and a half hours since the memorial ended. Why didn’t I do more? I knew about this! I live close enough, I could have contacted Robert Paulsen myself. I could have worked to organize something, instead of deciding to go to the memorial spur of the moment for some article.

Why didn’t I keep better track of the Mollie Tibbetts story? Why didn’t I remember how to spell her damn name correctly for the longest time? Why did it take Fash The Nation, a national news podcast, for me to realize there had been movement in a case in my own damn backyard?

The shitlibs say this all the time, and it’s a level of cringe that is almost immeasurable, but in this case, it is true. I can do better. We can all do better. And we have to do better. Our people need leaders, they need guidance, they need men of conviction, they need Heroes. And we’re all they’ve got.

I hope, after reading this, you feel as I do – that you can do more. That you should do more. When you hear about that anti-White crime in your state, make the drive to talk to the people affected. When you find out someone in your city council is pushing some anti-White bullshit through an ordinance, attend the meeting and demand they cease. These are not threats to your livelihood. The much-benighted Normie does this all the time – hell, they get praise on national news!

It’s obviously possible now, more than ever, for us to bring our talking points to the masses in a defensible, knockout way – none of these people are getting fired for doing what I’m suggesting. So why aren’t we out there saying it?

Or maybe it’s just me.