APHRODITE AND THE LAGOON OF NYMPHS 04

"WHAT?!”

WHAT?!” I shout to the weeping nymph. She, like
all the nymphs and fairies in the lagoon,
were was in
a state of mourning. The nymph, broken and
dispirited, looks back up to me and with little
voice says, “It is true, true – our queen,
Aphrodite
Aphrodite, has been kidnapped by the Semites and
their underlings. It is said they keep her
prisoner in two towers. That they change where
she is forced to sleep, once every other night,
so as to hide her location from would-be would‐be
heroes.” I reveal my dagger and say, “we “We are would-be
would‐be heroes, and we are enemies of the
Semite. It is your queen, nymph, who holds a key
to the revitalization of my people. My companion
and I shall go to those towers and free her.”
In an instant her face turns from sorrow to joy.
We are smothered in the kisses of fairies and
nymphs. Our wounds are no more. It is sublime
healing. Know this, rider, for it is well with me good that these
national socialists, fascists and third
positionists are so keen on the role of
motherhood. It is certainly best that society
yearns for virgin brides and busy mothers.
However, there is a weapon that has been removed
from their arsenal. This arsenal, the sexual element, that is
so necessary to heal and compel men, and which
shall today be reclaimed. Surely you know of the
power of the muse? For she She is the companion of the artist
artist, and without the artists, artists we can not win
the hearts of the people. Let these moralists
gnash their teeth, for we the Romantics will give
rebirth to her, that sweet name. Her divine
figure. Her healing touch. Her mystical sexual
energy.

We finally make our way to the courtyard of the
first tower. This place is covered in bits and
pieces of Parian marble, together with half-smashed
half‐smashed statues of the female form. Look,
rider, these sculptures were taken from the
Lagoon of nymphs. Nymphs. There must be over a thousand
here that lie in ruin. Suddenly we spot a young
man, not over 20, wielding a two-handed two‐handed hammer.
He is clothed in Ascetic Semitic Aryan attire. He
is blindfolded and aimlessly moves about. about aimlessly. Without
warning he lifts the great hammer and brings it
down on a statue, shattering it on impact. My
eyes widen and I gnash suck air through my teeth as I
let out, “Boy, what are you doing?!” He
pauses as he speaks, “Well hello there, good
sir. I’m working on ensuring my immortality.” My face turns to
confusion as
Confused, I say, ask, “Immortality?” He smiles and
begins, “Yes, sir. For I’m fighting against sin.
I am in the business of slaying wicked serpents
that act as temptation. For temptation, for I’d much prefer an
immortality of pleasure than an immortality of
pain.”

I pick up a piece of the marble debris and
remark, “Who has told you such nonsense? Boy,
take off your blindfold and analyze your
actions.” He jumps up and states, “But sir, I
can’t. For I must have faith. For were Were I to doubt,
and remove the blindfold blindfold, then surely the
Demiurge, our Our Lord divine, Divine, would smite me!”
Flustered, I let out, “Why would he smite
you?” He gives no pause and with a great smile
says, “Because he loves me.” I halt for a
moment as I process his statement, then remark,
“Because he loves you? Boy, you do not smash
serpents and sin, here in this courtyard. Rather,
you have destroyed countless works of art that
are a representation of the female ideal. What
you wish to destroy and call temptation, I wish
to preserve and call a work of beauty. beauty.”

He lingers in silence as his face contorts to he grimaces in concern.
His hand touches the blindfold and he remarks,
“I’m sorry, sir, but I’ve been told by a
very knowledgeable priest that upon my viewing of
the wickedness of the female form, I will get.” get
...”. He pauses for a moment then lets out, “urges
“... urges in my nether regions.” I remark
without hesitation, “Your nether regions?”
He shifts his head to the side and states, “You
know, the old cock and balls.” I hold back my
laughter and speak, say, “Your cock and balls? Boy Boy, do
you not know that nature saw fit to give you such
urges, so that you could go about cultivating the
tree of life? Her divine form is not one of sin
but of sheer grace. Now remove that blindfold and
look upon your works.” With a continued look of
gloom he remarks, “But I can’t, sir. For I
fear that my loving god will smite me, that he
will torment me endlessly for finding pleasure in
such things. That if I should remove this
blindfold, and give up faith, I would be forced
to burn for an eternity in a lake of fire.”

The boy brings his hammer up once again, but
before it can be brought back down, I seize it
with zeal and state, “Then it doesn’t sound
like your god is very loving at all. However,
there is a love goddess who has been kidnapped by
your associates. I must have her, to give life
back to my people. For I need Aphrodite to assist
me in my scheme of things. The Ascetic Semitic
Aryans and their priests have long mutilated our
world. Even here, in this courtyard their
machinations bring ruin. I call you a sinner,
boy. I call you a heretic. For it is you who wage
war against the beautiful, so that you can attain
an immortality of endorphins. It is you who are
the serpent. Now remove your blindfold.” He
stands in shock and whimpers out, “I can’t.”

I begin with, “Is it not said in Matthew 5:29,
And
‘And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out?
outʹ? Here boy, I will give you my dagger, so
that you may cut off your cock and balls. Surely
then you will not have to fear the retaliation of
your loving god.” He whispers, “My cock and
balls?” I remark, “Yes, for surely a lifetime
without your nether regions is worth an
immortality of endorphins. Is it not said that
your loving god forgives all things? Then take
the blindfold off just this once and see the
world from my position. If you see serpents here
in this courtyard courtyard, then, by all means, put the
blindfold back on. However However, if you see beauty,
then let your eyes be free of it for the rest of
your life. life.”

He pauses, then slowly removes the blindfold.
Suddenly we see blue eyes. His face changes from
fear to sadness as he remarks, “This is what
I’ve labored so hard to do? To destroy such
pretty things?” He falls to his knees and
begins to weep. I move to meet him and say,
“Boy, know this, for this: all men are forgiven, forgiven when they
resolve to remove blindfolds and chase the
Sun.” He forgoes ceases weeping as we embrace. For embrace, for he
was no longer an Ascetic Semitic Aryan. Now, Aryan; he was
now, only Aryan. I speak once more, “Know this,
I “I am the
Sacred Clown and I command you to return these
statues to the Lagoon of nymphs. Nymphs. Now tell me,
where is Aphrodite?” He whimpers out, “Yes of
course, thank you Sacred Clown, but I’m sorry,
the queen is in the other tower.
There tower; there, with the
Semitic Hobgoblin, hobgoblin, the pornographer.” My eyes
squint and I gnash my teeth. I tighten my grip on
the dagger. Come along, rider, for we must be
swift. Every moment that we linger here, is a
moment the queen of nymphs is defiled. defiled.” We
arrive in short order to at the second tower, the
lair of the Semitic hobgoblin, the pornographer.
This place is full of cages and melancholy. The
creature sits on a pile of chicken bones, as bones – its
disgusting habits are made on full display. Its head,
dwarfing head
dwarfs the rest of his its body, and is set with
beady eyes and a nose like a hook. Belching and wheezing
wheezing, it eats away. It
wears a Though the top of its
head is mostly bald head, bald, the rest is littered alongside with
oily
hair, hair running long on each side. It dons a
little hat on its head, but rest assured, it is
an atheistic Semitic monster. It has no concept
of divinity. It exists to bring about the
unknowing, for reasons I can not understand.
There it lies, sits, devouring its chickens on golden
plates, with golden forks, on a golden table. Its
limbs, thin and rarely used, lie shriveled on its
fat body. Upon seeing our arrival he it stops eating
and at once greets us, “Welcome, welcome. welcome! I see
you are here to shop my wares? What pleasure do
you
seek seek, my hedonist fellows? For here at this
tower, we offer all types of sensual delights.”

It claps its hands and suddenly a cage with a
nymph is seen. drops from the tower. It begins again,
“Perhaps you are here to whip one of these
things? To wreck her body, to aid in the
defilement of her form?
Would Do you wish to see her
lie with animals today? For surely that is the
greatest defilement. Is it not also true that the
greatest defilement leads to the greatest
orgasm?” It laughs and wheezes. There is
silence. Its smile fades for a moment as it looks
us over. It pauses with a worried expression,
then the smile returns and it speaks, “I see,
you are here for the true defilement! You seek
the reduction in capacity. The blinding. You
wish to see her lie with the sub-man sub‐man so as to
create sub-humanity. sub‐humanity. You, sir are a true
connoisseur of defilement!” We say nothing.
Its eyebrow raises and the worried look returns.
There is a long pause. Suddenly it begins to
laugh and wheeze. It slaps its legs and begins
rummaging through its collection. Finally it lets
out, “Of course, of course, you seek ever more
defilement. I have many wares. Here, look, these
two are brother and sister. It is their
copulation that brings the greatest orgasm,
surely. Yes, it is their fusion, and the break
down of the tree of life, that is so sensual, so
erotic. Do you wish to see her eat excrement?
Bile? There is no limit to the defilement we can
bring to her.” Still we say nothing. For as I
have told you and will tell you again, rider, you
must never speak to Semitic
Hobgoblins. hobgoblins. For long
in our history, our men would seek logic and
reason from them. They would engage in long long,
drawn out dialog that would never be fruitful.
For they believed that creatures such as these, these
desired truth, and that somehow truth would find
its way, way if only we could understand one another.
Know this, rider, rider: there can be no understanding
with the Semitic
Hobgoblin. hobgoblin.

Let it be said, that there have always been
prostitutes, street urchins and courtesans. They
are as old as our being. Older than civilization. civilization!
They serve a function, function which we have forgotten.
For the
The ascetic has been taught to hate her and the
hedonist has been taught to debase her. I believe
there must be a way to revive the temple
prostitute. To give rise to a courtesan who
exists to raise the spirits of men. So that all
men can embrace beauty in their lifetimes. That
these These
nymphs will be trained in the art of healing. For
she, the courtesan courtesan, is the natural cleric and
ally of men. This is something that has been
forgotten for two thousand years in our realm. It
is with the love of Aphrodite that we will
resurrect it. But this creature, the Semitic
pornographer, brings about an outright mockery of
such things. This Hobgoblin hobgoblin exists simply to mar
beauty. To negate vitality. To poison the spring.
Only once this creature, this pornographer, is
cut down, will we remember the other half of
woman. That she is both mother mother, and sex goddess.
Only then will we have balance.

The creature’s lips tighten and curl inwards
and wrinkles form on its brow. It finally lets
out, “Why have you come here to say nothing?
Are you not here to engage in the defilement?”
Suddenly a gust of wind brushes my crimson cloak
aside, revealing my hand on my dagger. Its mouth
falls open and it cries out in fear, “I see, I
see, you are Ascetic Semitic Aryans and you have
come to punish me for my wares. Yes wares! Yes, now I see
the error in of my way. ways. Now I have decided to
become an Ascetic Semitic Aryan. I now wield the
cross. I have been saved. Yes Yes, for forgiveness
surely is the greatest element about of my newfound
religion.
Come Come, let us rejoice that I have been
saved. I am converso!” Our blades slowly
unsheathe. The sound of metal unleashed saturates
the area. The Semitic
Hobgoblin’s hobgoblin’s eyes begin to
widen and sweat pours down its face. It shakes
ever more wildly. For this creature has no
instinct in the art of combat. He It has lived two
thousand years as a parasite. Never defending his its
home with the spear, but only with the coin. What
kind of soldier does that breed? What does he it
know of warfare? The creature desperately cries
out, “Put away your weapons brothers for we are
all children of God! For we are all Ascetic
Semitic Aryans. Converso! Converso! Now let us
forgive.” Finally I speak out to the
monstrosity, “We are not Ascetic Semitic
Aryans. We have come, not to forgive, but for
retribution.” In an instant we launch ourselves
at this monster, the pornographer. Our guile and
cunning carrying our blades forward, ever forward to their
target. Remember this, rider, the first strike
is the most important. For if it is executed with
sufficient will and
precision, it can fell even a titan
in a single blow. We precision, it can fell even a
titan in a single blow. We move faster than
sound, but I see the full change in the Semitic
Hobgoblin’s
hobgoblin’s eyes. For when I first leapt, its
face was of fear, but in the end I think it was
more of surprise. That it The hobgoblin could not believe
that there now existed men who would not forgive.
That these new men, men who now walked the Earth, Earth would
ever
forever seek its total annihilation.

Finally our Our daggers
reach their target. Fourteen times I stab it in
its belly, eighty-eight eighty‐eight times I stab it in the
back. I can not help but wonder, is this the
first time you’ve been in this position, Hobgoblin?
hobgoblin? Is this the first time you’ve felt
the dagger in your back? I shall name this strike
Toledo and this strike Dresden.
Each cut spews out to the ground, With each cut,
hot black tar and coins that routinely pulse and discharge
like organs. organs spew out onto the ground. The
creature now writhes in pain on the ground, pain, squealing like some
demonic pig. For the The Semitic Hobgoblin does not
abstain from eating pork because of cleanliness. No, he cleanliness;
no, it abstains because it is an act of
cannibalism. He It is the king of pigs. He It reveres
filth. Verily, I do not do justice to pigs. For pigs, for
pigs have their place. But Hobgoblins? They shall
have no place. The nymphs are made free, as the
creature gives out its final whimper. We search
the courtyard and throughout the tower, yet still but there
is still no trace of Aphrodite. Suddenly my heart
sinks at the thought, thought that she has been completely
blighted. That somehow somehow, between the Ascetic and
the Hedonist tower, she had been lost, both
forgotten and defiled. Rider, without her love,
can we guide the nymphs? Will the artists have a
muse to stir their souls? We must now return with
empty hands. We will tell them of our shared
misfortune. Surely we will all weep together at
the death of love.

On our way back, we encounter once more the young
man from before, carrying a statue named Hypatia.
We greet him as we make our way down into the
entrance of Aphrodite’s old home, the Lagoon of
nymphs
Nymphs and fairies. Fairies. We wear melancholy on our
faces as we drift into her domain, all the while as her
creatures ever gather around us. I speak out to
them, “I am sorry sorry, my beloved fairies and
nymphs. Your queen is no more. The light of
beauty and the feminine ideal has been lost.” I
begin to weep. A nymph embraces me with warmth
and says, “You silly mortal, do you not realize
that you have freed our queen? That you carried
her back with you, in your hearts, from those
dreaded towers? Do you not realize that the
feminine ideal can never die, as long as you men
desire it? As long as you are willing to cut down
men and monsters for it. it? Now quit your weeping
and look up high above this place. For she is
with us now, even as we speak.” I look up and I
hear a word on a wing.

There she floats perched above, bathing in the light of
the Sun, in all her glory. Her red hair, ivory
skin and smile, that can heal even poisoned
wounds, gleaming like a beacon of vitality. She
is Venus, Pria, Freya, the inner mode of
being’s feminine ideal. Her nude form covered
by a diaphanous dress of white and flowers.
Suddenly, I feel am picked up, up and lifted into the air
by the tiny hands of a thousand fairies. Slowly
they lift me upward, towards this symbol of the
ideal, this keeper of the muse. For here, in this
garden of love, we are reborn. We have cast off
these extremes that the Semite so readily abuses
us with. All at once there is balance.

The fairies bring me ever closer to her. As we
finally embrace I whisper, “Sweet name,
you’re you are
born once again for me.” We kiss. Now, rider, I
do not know if I believe in Nietzsche’s eternal recurrence. That
return ‐ that we live these lives over and over. An
over, an endless dream, we
experience dream experienced in a loop.
Perhaps it would be best if it is were true what the
school of Parmenides would
say. That said, that everything is a
fixed state. Either
way, However it may be, I’d like to
think that here in this moment, when I embrace
her, I embrace her forever.