https://louisproyect.org/2014/06/16/blood-spirit-the-family-and-soil-a-response-to-israel-shamir/

“I must be a Neo Nazi for repeatedly bellowing that Israel shouldn’t exist, among other heresies.”

Actually, I was giving talks 51 years ago saying that Israel shouldn’t exist. However, you certainly sound a lot to me like every other Stormfront regular who posts and comments here. What never gets addressed here is the utter split between the Zionist establishment that lines up completely with Trump, Netanyahu and people who have broken either completely or partially with the rich Jews like Adelson who have the same nativist politics as you, Ron Unz and every other VDare type who posts article here. So weird that a Vietnamese immigrant with some kind of anti-capitalist politics years ago can end up sounding like Tucker Carlson or David Duke.

The anti‐Semite readily admits that the Jew is intelligent and hard‐working; he will even confess himself inferior in these respects. This concession costs him nothing, for he has, as it were, put those qualities in parentheses. Or rather they derive their value from the one who possesses them: the more virtues the Jew has the more dangerous he will be. The anti‐Semite has no illusions about what he is. He considers himself an average man, modestly average, basically mediocre. There is no example of an anti‐ Semite’s claiming individual superiority over the Jews. But you must not think that he is ashamed of his mediocrity; he takes pleasure in it; I will even assert that he has chosen it. This man fears every kind of solitariness, that of the genius as much as that of the murderer; he is the man of the crowd. However small his stature, he takes every precaution to make it smaller, lest he stand out from the herd and find himself face to face with himself. He has made himself an anti‐Semite because that is something one cannot be alone. The phrase, “I hate the Jews,” is one that is uttered in chorus; in pronouncing it, one attaches himself to a tradition and to a community — the tradition and community of the mediocre.

http://abahlali.org/files/Jean-Paul_Sartre_Anti-Semite_and_Jew_An_Exploration_of_the_Etiology_of_Hate__1995.pdf

I assume that Robert Bowers was a regular here. I only wonder what alias he was using.

None of these comments deal with the reality. Jeff St. Clair lost track of DJ’s submission as happens with me about once or twice a year–and I am supposed to have influence over CP. So, DJ jumps to the conclusion that he has been censored and takes to Facebook to denounce CP and me for “telling on him”. Here’s what happened. I wrote DJ asking him why he was writing for a neo-Nazi website and he didn’t reply. I then wrote a blog article about why leftists should not write for the carriage trade version of Daily Stormer. Next, Tony DiMaggio writes a CP article that links to my blog. Until this point, DJ has not been mentioned anywhere publicly. All that took place was an email to him from me that he ignored. So, when his “satire” got misplaced, he went on a campaign to denounce Red-Brown hunters. What an overreaction.

I don’t see what the big deal is. UNZ Review has about the same of readers as CP, after all. Okay, 90 percent of them seem to be Ernst Zundel fans but at least he is getting the attention he craves.

I once knew a Jew named Kikey Kikeystein. He had a face like an anteater and smelled like garlic. His father owned a pawn shop in my hometown and he used to love to screw the goyim. One time a blind pastor named Christopher St. Clair came in to get hock his tenor saxophone (he used it lead the congregation in hymns) since he was short of funds at the time to get the heart transplant he needed. And Kikey’s father Shmulkus Jewed the pastor out of his money. Instead of giving him a $100, he gave him a dollar bill. Kikey was a really rotten kid. He used to sell crack cocaine to the kindergartners at the parochial school near Pastor St. Clair’s church. But he and his rotten family got their comeuppance. The KKK came to their house, busted down the door, and chopped them up into tiny pieces that they fed to the alligators. All this happened in my home town Centerville, Mississippi back in 1957. I am so glad that Ron Unz is on top of all this stuff.