I said my goodbyes at the curb. There were hugs and tears and 'I love you's all around. They waved until I was almost out of sight, then they walked arm in arm slowly back toward their home. I saw this in the rear view mirror as I turned the corner, a tear in my eye for their decades of love. But now there was an undercurrent in their lives. A sinister echo of fear, like the rumbling of a freight train from a mile away. I had felt it too, and it had begun to affect our lives in a thousand ways. Slowly, subtly at first. The smiles and ready jokes became less frequent, the laughter and joy that used to fill the house constantly were now only occasional visitors. And every now and then fear flickered in their eyes like a ghost that flew fleetingly past the corner of your sight. We all knew it, though none of us could bear to mouth the words: America was dying.

It had taken many things to push me to this point, the point where I was sitting in my car with a full tank of gas and heading for the freeway. I think the first thing that had a real impact on me was Sissy. She was my kid sister. I say "was" because I disowned her along with the rest of the family. It had been a very hard thing to do for everyone. None of us have ever been the same. You can't cut a part of you off and ever really be whole again. But there was no going back. Some things a family just can't allow. Sissy had dated a black behind the family's back and against all her raising, then discovered she was pregnant. She had been unrepentant and had the gall to expect us to accept it and her, and even help her support the thing and its "Dad" if you can even use the term with this animal. The last I heard about her was through a friend who told me that she was now living in a ghetto with three mulatto babies. He said she had gained fifty pounds and had been beaten half to death with missing teeth and one eye swollen shut. And she was pregnant again. I told him to shut up. I didn't want to hear it. Better by far if she'd been killed in a wreck or a plane crash than this slow, degrading death. Mom and Dad still hurt. I can see it in their eyes every time they see a young girl passing by on the street...

After Sissy it was other things. Lots of other things. I tried my best to ignore or adjust to all the changes going on in our lives, and at first I was pretty successful. But then they began to creep into the private places in our lives. There came a point where there was no longer anyplace we could go to pretend our world was still intact. No place to hide, no place to perpetuate the illusion that America was still whole. And in the end I went to my room and started to pack. I had to know once and for all. I had to find America. She had to still be out there somewhere...

In San Diego I looked for her, but instead I found mean streets full of ugly brown faces that stared at me as I drove slowly by, with greed and malice in their eyes. Pregnant Mestizo women scurried across trash strewn streets followed by trains of little brown trolls with huge eyes and grabbing hands. Tattoos, shaved heads, hard looks, and Mexican music blared. Bars covered the windows of all the businesses still struggling to survive, while every wall on every street was covered in vile graffiti and gang emblems. Blacks wearing sideways ball caps or bandanas and sunglasses sold dope on the street corners, and seasoned, hard looking hookers strutted up and down their turfs, yelling at each other across intersections and poking their heads into car windows, as people were forced to stop at red lights. Many of the hookers were queers in drag. Homeless black men with trash hanging in their nappy hair pushed stolen shopping carts along, stopping at every trash can and dumpster, diving for cans and bottles, and the occasional sandwich.

In Phoenix it was the same. A madhouse of traffic and people, the town in the desert had grown into a huge city seemingly overnight. But the people weren't Americans. Instead I saw a mix of Latino, black, Asian, Pakistani, Arab, Hindu and other completely alien faces and cultures. Nowhere did I see an American flag nor hear American music. The whites I did see where hurrying off in their cars to someplace they could hide, but few walked the streets or visited the shops in town because of the danger. Cops cruised slowly by, eyeing the thugs that manned every other corner. A losing battle. Low-riders, tinted windows, and rap music were everywhere. The reek of Hindu incense wafted from the office of a motel I stopped at, forcing me to spend over a hundred and fifty bucks to get a room at the Hilton instead. It was the only motel left where it was safe to sleep on the bed or use the toilet. But in the morning I was disgusted to discover that the maid was a squat, ugly and pregnant illegal troll.

In Albuquerque the blacks and illegals had laid siege. Trash and filth littered the streets and graffiti was rampant. A crazed black stuck his head in my car and right up into my face at a stop light, demanding money. I could smell the rot in his green teeth and see the busted blood vessels in his crack addled eyes. Trash and lint hung in his nappy hair. I took my hand and pushed his face back out of my car, cussing like a sailor as I rolled up the window and hit the gas. At a motel that night I turned back the blanket to find a syringe sticking in the bed like a dagger. Blood ringed the barrel. I almost physically dragged the gibbering Hindu to my room and showed him the scene. He calmly picked up the needle, placed it in his pocket then said, "What needle? I see no needle!" He grinned evilly at me and refused to refund my money. So I slept in the car at a rest stop that night. In the morning I made a report at the police station. The Hispanic desk sergeant told me in heavily accented English that I shouldn't expect anything to come of it because they were flooded with complaints about the motels in town, but that the Hindus will rent the rooms to whoever has the money.

In Tulsa it was more of the same. Mexicans and other South Americans were everywhere. Blacks from LA and other west coast cities had migrated here as well, pushed further out by their own uncontrolled breeding and the turf wars going on with the illegals that are now taking over their old haunts. I heard the sound of smashing glass and an alarm going off. Two blacks went running by carrying something wrapped in a shirt. "Fuck you!" was spray-painted in red on the side of a Baptist church that sported a sign that said "Jesus Saves".

In Saint Louis the cops were the first thing I saw as I entered the city as they went screaming by, sirens blazing. I followed out of curiosity. I came upon the scene of a bad accident. A white family lay dead and bleeding all over the highway, the father still pinned in the wreckage of their SUV. A drunken illegal with blood streaming down his face was struggling wildly as four cops sat on him, trying to cuff him. He screamed obscenities in Spanish and English as they bodily lifted his flailing form and threw him in the back of a squad car. I asked a passing EMT what had happened. He told me that the illegal had stolen a car and gone on a drunken joy ride, side-swiping several cars before colliding head-on with a family returning from church. The paramedic growled, "The sonofabitch will be free tomorrow morning. The fucking liberal judges in town will grant him a low bail and he'll vanish back over the border or into Mexican town for a few months, then he'll be right back out here killing somebody else." I nodded my sympathy and got back into my car. The firemen were now trying to cut the dead father from the wreckage. I couldn't watch anymore of this. I went into town to get a bite to eat.

My appetite was gone, but I had the shakes and knew I had to eat something, anything before continuing on my way. I stopped at a local burger joint and parked. As I neared the door I was accosted by a strung out ghetto black who blocked my entrance, staring at me aggressively. He was filthy and literally reeked of BO and shit. I looked at him without liberal conditioning and saw some kind of sub-human primate from the jungle, attempting to imitate a human by wearing some old, nasty clothes and standing upright. He made the usual black attempt at speaking English, which usually comes out in the form of a kind of guttural slang that is unrecognizable to all but another animal. "Gimmee some money crackah! Aaaz neeedz it ta buy sompin' ta eets!" Translation: "Give me some money for more crack whitey, or I'll stomp your cracker ass!" He stood there menacingly, crusted fingers balled into fists, ready to attack me if I said no. I pulled my gun faster than a snake and said. "One hole or two?" His bloodshot eyes bulged out of his chimp-like face and he turned and ran like a gazelle off into the gloom of the night. I guessed that had been the correct password... I ate my meal in peace, careful to order only those things either canned, bottled or incinerated. I had learned to carry a concealed weapon years go. I'd much rather be a live felon than a dead citizen...

After another night sleeping in my car for safety, I decided to cruise the residential areas to see how my other Americans were living. Gone were the boats, the motor homes, and the ATVs. Gone were the yards full of white kids playing ball and wrestling with Fido. Gone were the families out on the porch drinking tea together while the little ones splashed in a wading pool. Gone were the cheerleaders practicing with their batons, shouting out the school slogans. No more children walked to the local store for candy and ice cream and Fido had been replaced with Zeus, a meaner than shit Doberman that growled at every passer by. The yards were now quiet and vacant with dead grass everywhere. The front doors were now closed and locked with heavy storm doors welded in place for security. Many of the homes also had security cameras that scanned continuously. All the cars were locked and heavily alarmed and "No Trespassing!" signs were plastered everywhere. A beat-up and filthy old ice cream truck cruised by, but now it played "La Cucaracha!" and was driven by a filthy looking illegal, obviously fresh from crossing the border. No white kids ran to greet him, but hordes of ugly little brown Mestizos came out of the woodwork, buying Mexican treats and tossing the wrappers right there on the street as they fought each other like starved dogs over each other's sweets. It was disgusting. A black Nissan with dark tinted windows cruised slowly by, eyeing the white's houses for a target as rap music blared from their stereo so loudly that my entire car shook from the bass vibration. Heavily tattooed dark brown arms hung out of every window, and some had joints sticking between their fingers. A trio of hard looking blacks wearing Moslem scarves on their heads strolled slowly by, casing every house and yard, mentally cataloging weaknesses in their security and valuables that might be worth stealing. The Doberman went wild, straining at its chain and frothing at the mouth with animal hate as it watched the blacks. They eyed it fearfully. You couldn't charge a Doberman with a hate-crime or call it a racist.. I heard a door slam as they passed and saw a fearful white face peer out of a curtained window. So this was the new version of the modern white neighborhood, eh? I shook my head sadly as I realized these same people would shortly go to their boob tubes and tune in Oprah as if nothing was wrong, crawling back into their fantasy world where their kids still played and laughed and the world was still safe and clean.. I drove on...

Town after town, state after state, it was the same thing. Some places were more heavily dominated by blacks, others by illegals, and even some by homosexuals and rabid liberals. But the result was the same: Whites had no place left. I went to at least a hundred parks across the country spanning 40 states, and what I saw sickened me. Soccer games were being played by large groups of illegals and their kids, while the traditional baseball diamonds and football fields lay abandoned and overgrown. Oh sure, there were occasional games, but they too were dominated by the minorities. But nowhere, not once did I see an American team. No blue-eyed, clean faced kids shouted and played with idle abandon and joy in their hearts. Mexicans and blacks were out there instead, arguing and cheating, getting into fistfights and cussing each other like prostitutes. Rap music and Mariachi peasant songs blared from every speaker as corndog stands were replaced with taco wagons that sold menudo and Mexican sweet pastries. Gangstas loitered on the edges of the parks, selling dope to other blacks and Latinos while parked cars were having their wheels boosted.

In desperation I tried a different tack: I headed for the churches. Surely there, America still lived. Surely there I would find her soul alive and strong...

From small town to large city I went. From small non-denominational to large Lutheran cathedral I went. From Pentecostal to Catholic, and from Methodist to Baptist. And all were the same. Instead of finding my fellow Americans bowed in sincere worship, trying to improve their character and soul, I found these places had become havens for the obscene, corrupt, and perverted. God had been replaced with political correctness, and cultural and racial pride had been replaced with equality propaganda. I found all-black churches which were nothing less than forums for preaching racial hatred for whites, and a place where they danced and shook their asses in obscene and animalistic ways that looked for all the world exactly like some of the old African footage I had seen as a young man, of savage Negro jungle tribesmen in wild celebration after a successful human sacrifice. In the churches they leaped and capered about in brightly colored clothes, screaming and shouting wildly, the only thing missing being the feathers to be identical to their African cousin's celebrations, and dancing as a unit to the rhythm of their own twisted version of Gospel music that God...any God would find deeply offensive. But they weren't there to worship. In reality they didn't even comprehend the concept of worship.

The Latino churches were all predominantly Catholic because the Vatican presses to breed as much and as fast as they can, which falls in line exactly with the Latino philosophy. A marriage made in Hell... All the white churches I visited were no longer white, but a mixture of whites, blacks, Latinos, and the other various racial and cultural groups. This had the inevitable effect of destroying the white culture in all these churches and denominations for fear of being sued or prosecuted out of existence by the rabid liberals and their witch hunt for any group of whites that dared to exist as a cohesive unit. They have now made it where whites associating with whites is a crime, punishable by both civil and criminal courts. No, America wasn't there...

I sat in my car at a rest stop near Yellowstone National Park. I scanned the beautiful scene below me and wondered at how fast my nation had sank into this quagmire of filth and degradation. On the radio some Jew was bewailing the abuses his people had suffered during the Holocaust at the hands of the evil Nazis. After the education I had been receiving of late, I now knew that when he said he hated Nazis, he really meant all whites. Jews make no distinction, and rightly so. Because they know that the only thing that separates us from the Nazis is knowledge. If we had been educated as a race to who and what the Jews really were, and all the crimes against the white race they have been guilty of over the past three-thousand years, all of us would be Nazis and the U.S. would have never fought the Germans. And they know it. But that's another story...

As I sat and listened to that tripe, I reached down and turned off the radio and just listened to the wind howl and the hawks screech high overhead. Why couldn't our world be as simple as this again? Why did we have to tolerate all the aggressive evil that was overrunning every facet of our existence? When would we, as a people finally rise up and say "Enough!"?

I had spent two months. I had driven from coast to coast and city to city, looking for America. Instead I found a frightened, confused, and scattered people that hid in their homes, didn't talk to their friends or neighbors anymore, and had become hermits, living in front of their TVs and computers, reliving the days they missed so badly. I found dead cities full of boarded up buildings and businesses, and parks that were no-man's lands of gangs, drugs and murder. I found entire streets and even freeways littered with trash and graffiti, marking their turf like some forest beast. I found bars on the windows instead of welcome signs and bullet-proof glass covering the teller's windows at banks. Cops now wore armor vests and helmets and carried mace, tasers, clubs, and guns as part of their normal attire. Every traffic stop was treated like a felony warrant, and with good reason considering a large percentage of the minorities they pull over are armed to the teeth..and willing to use them. I'm watched by cameras in every store I enter, and I have to pay for my gasoline in advance. None of these things I listed even existed before the liberals under orders from their Jew masters took control.

I saw my entire culture and race under siege and dying. It was dying a slow, quiet, agonizing death in the darkness of it's homes and bedrooms as the dark hordes overrun the countryside all around them. An insidious and deadly cancer of the will and spirit had eaten away their pride and will to fight, until they began to believe all the propaganda the liberals had been pounding at them day after day and year after year, telling them they were inferior, worthless, and deserved extinction. I made a silent and sincere prayer to my God, then quietly headed the car toward home. I would have to return with head hung low and report the sad news to my already fearful but brave parents. They had never given in, even as their friends and loved ones had all fallen away one by one, until only they were left. I had wanted to find allies so badly, someone to give them hope.. Then, on the way back I drove through Idaho, a state with a sparse population by national standards, but still large enough to sport several million people. And even before I entered the first small town I felt it, something I hadn't felt in decades. It felt like freedom.... Town after town I went to, and in each one were the whites of old, laughing and living, loving and building like my race used to do. Clean streets, no graffiti, no bars, no ghettos. Kids played in their yards and Fido was back. I actually saw a teenager drive by in a pickup truck playing rock and roll instead of "kill whitey" rap music. I thought I was hallucinating. People actually waved at me as I passed, and I waved back! I actually found myself smiling...

But what had brought about this miracle? What had resurrected my America and made her strong again on this small piece of forgotten homeland? It was then that it hit me. Something was missing. A cloud of blackness and depression was absent where it had always been present at every other place I'd visited... There were no minorities of any kind!

I stopped for the night at a Mom and Pop motel. It was something right out of a Norman Rockwell painting. An old white couple owned it, and there were no Hindus or Pakistanis in sight. No evil reek of BO and alien incense accosted me as I entered the office. "America! Love it or leave it!" hung on the wall. My room was clean and safe, and even the sheets were stiff and starched. A thick, expensive hand-sewn quilt was on the bed, something no motel owner in their right mind would leave in a room in LA because the illegals or blacks would steal it the first night, or burn roach holes in it with their dope sticks. There was no porno on the TV and the food was clean and good. I took a walk after breakfast and stopped at a bus bench. I talked to an old man that was sitting there just to gather the sun's warmth on his old bones. We talked of many things. Old folks are our national treasure. They are full of wisdom and experience, but few of us have the time, patience, or sense to appreciate this and learn from them. Finally we got around to the minorities. I asked him where they were. He smiled and said, "Who the hell cares? Just as long as they aren't here!" We both laughed and I nodded my agreement. "We ran them off. All of them. Some by warning them, and the ones that refused to leave got some "help". Eventually they all left. We also cleaned house on the local government as well. We fired every liberal we could find and voted out the rest. It was a nasty battle and they had a lot of help from their masters in Boise, but in the end we won. He wheezed out a cackle. "I can tell you one thing son, they sure did squawk about it!" I laughed out loud. "Of that I have no doubt!" He continued. "Boise is still a damn stink hole of liberals, Jews and queers, and they're still doing their damnedest to find some legal loophole that will force us to allow darkies into our neighborhoods and schools. But I can tell you son, that they'd have to literally nuke us to ever get us to allow that. We will never bend to the Jews and their puppets, never!" There was hard steel in the old man's eyes, and my respect for him went up about five clicks on the spot.

The next morning I bought supplies, gas, and had the car checked out and serviced. Then I made a deal to lease a house on the outskirts of this last little town I had been visiting the past three days. I was going back to California. I was going to help Mom and Dad pack, sell their stuff and say their goodbyes. Then I was going to pile them into the truck and never look back.

I had found America, and we were going home.....................