A horror clown with helmet hair lurks at our bedside. And there is only one way to repel her.

With “the second coming of Donald Trump,” a political pole shift has swept the world. 

And while I expect plenty of outrageous moves from this orange “Mensiah,” like pushing transhumanism, uncompromising Zionism and robotization, some good things are also happening.

The wondrous woke world, in which crack addict George Floyd was worshipped like a god and pedophiles could dream of societal acceptance is definitively a thing of the past. And white lives matter again, although it’s just a tiny bit.

A burly bloke pummeling a woman in a boxing ring, subsequently showering among teenage girls with a gold Olympic medal around his hairy neck? Thank God. That’s all over.

In the US, the replacement invasion has reached its borders, propaganda and infiltration monster USAID was put out of its misery for good and DOGE stopped all psychiatric aid to transgender tardigrades in Kenya.

Slush funds are being dredged, kickbacks are reclaimed. Fake titted US generals stealing Dior handbags are kicked to the curb, tripping over their red stiletto heels. 

Terror turbines, murky Green Deals, designer pandemics and vaccine mandates, the end of all this misery seems in sight.

At least sometimes the sky is azure again, the climate no longer boils and I haven’t seen any chem trails in days.

Most importantly. The world’s blood rivers are slowly being dammed with Russian and American olive branches. Fuses in nuclear powder kegs are snuffed out. 

Collectively, the world is unhooking itself at breakneck speed from the globalists horrors. The perfidious dreams of the WEF, World Bank, the WHO, Bilderberg, IMF, and the UN are snuffed out. The sick plans of depopulation dreamers like Soros and Gates -creepy potentates who even last year held us in their iron claws with mRNA jabs, and poison-injecting mosquitoes- are coming to a screeching halt. 

Newly found logic and understanding seem to rapidly wash away the lunacy of recent years, as the entire world rapidly reshuffles the deck of cards, seeking a new balance in the multipolar reality.

Wait a minute! You said “The entire world”?

Nope. 

There’s one little “Asterix village”, holding out against any reason. Bravely resisting the liberating zeitgeist.

One blundering bastion still playing the globalist game, like it’s 2020 and pedo-Hitler and his pimping son are still handing out pizza slices on a sinisterly red-and-black-lit White House lawn.

In Brussels, some Gallic loudmouths keep fighting against every shred of reason and sense. Drunk on their hubris and unchecked, mostly stolen, power.

The village of Bruxella, led by its Teutonic chieftain Ursulix, stoically persists in ruining itself and especially its citizens, all under the guise of saving the entire planet.

We, her poor subjects -groaning and moaning under her dictatorial rule- are forced to decarbonize the earth in splendid isolation, slurping down the oceans with paper straws, single-handedly supposed to save the world’s climate.

All that while our already overcrowded village is set to house every potent, lustful African male of military age on cruise ships and in Hotel suites, casually delivering the Endsieg to a defeated Ukraine in the process, by smacking down Ramzan Kadyrov’s battle-hardened troops with our tiny rainbow colored handbags.

Like a broken Atlas, we bear the suffering of the whole world on our rapidly thinning shoulders.

And since no one else on this earth is mad enough to play along with this lunacy any longer, we, the serfs of Ursulix, get to foot the entire bill.

In money, in dictatorship, and – if we’re not careful – with our blood and that of our children.

How did it ever come to this? How was the world richest and most prosperous village brought to the brink of beggary in just 25 years? Broken by figures we never elected and barely know?

How weak and foolish have we been? And at what cost?

I feel like being robbed in my own home at night.

Bound and gagged, I lie in bed staring at sinister shadows staring at me while my children sleep the sleep of the innocent.

Motionless, I lie waiting for the next move by the blonde horror clown with the ‘steel helmet hair’ and her band of pitch-black phantoms, still wondering how they slipped past my Malinois Shepards and my burglar alarm.

Powerless, I lie there, praying they’ll settle for my last pennies. Hoping that they will decide to leave, without turning my children into their army slaves or setting my house ablaze with everyone still inside.

We must wake up from this nightmare before it becomes reality.

Time has come to break free from the iron chains that have been placed on our wrists and ankles, without us even noticing.

This self-imposed powerlessness must end.

If we don’t, the anchors tied to our shackles will drag us down into an unfathomably deep pool filled with blood and guts.

If we don’t unite now, show strength, raise our voices and scream a resounding “Never!” this madness will fester unchecked.

We’ll end up a smoldering ashtray filled up with charred children.

That will be the punishment for our cowardice and apathy.

Make no mistake. The eyes of the titans of the new multipolar world order look at us with pity, contempt, and disdain. Waiting for our sign. A scream of life!

Putin, Xi and Trump – they don’t hate us, they don’t even really despise us, but they regard us as lost, unworthy, spiritually dead. Not worth saving.

Because we let a bunch of clowns take everything away from us, without so much as a pipsqueak.

They see us as too weak to fight, too fat, too effeminate, mentally and physically broken by decades of pampering, coddling and deception.

They imagine us as the neatly trussed-up passengers of an airplane, numbly nibbling on our lab-grown meat sandwiches, while we are deliberately driven into the ground by deranged jokers posing as Pontius Pilots. 

They see us for what we’ve become.

The silent victims of a rotten, illegitimate, mandate-less bureaucratic metastatic tumor which only remaining power is the power to destroy itself.

Forget politics. 

We need a movement, with a voice that carries all the way to Moscow, Beijing and Washington.

We must unite now!

When the trains start carrying our children to the meat grinders of Ukraine, it’ll be too late.

We must set aside our petty squabbles, our endless nitpicking about tiny mistakes, offensive words, put all our sensitivities aside and rally behind the one movement, to save our kids and what ever is left of our village.  

We need critical mass. And we need it now.

Please heed my warning.

Many of us will still come up with excuses to comfortably roll over and go back to sleep.

But the horror clown with steel helmet hair is truly standing at our bedside.

And no one will come to our aid if we won’t even help ourselves.

The Dutch version of this piece points to a specific movement called Forum For Democracy. I adjusted that for the international version, because it does not make sense in a non Dutch context. If you feel like supporting me, please do by spreading this piece in the English and Russian speaking world. Dutch people can support me here if they wish.