Dear Mr. Edminston:

Robert says flying is a good way to meet White people. Flying is something which lacks direct appeal to mud-people, whose attitude toward things is the same as the Dog Philosophy: If you can't eat it or screw it, then piss on it!

I knew Dr. Oliver personally, although I haven't read all of his essays, or maybe I read them so long ago that I've forgotten. I agree with him on so many things that I fail to distinguish my ideas from his, at times.

I knew from your previous letters that you were working in the oil industry. In this regard, The Barnes Review put out an excellent book by Dr. William Engdahl entitled: "A Century of War, Anglo-American Oil Politics and the New World Order". Aside from its minor blooper that The Maginot Line existed in World War I, and the LaRouchie twaddle about infinite growth on Planet Earth, the dates, events and facts are spot on, and they serve to explain and to predict events, just as do The Protocols of Zion. The theme is that World ZOG is a Judeo-Anglo-American critter, and it wants to limit productivity and prosperity everywhere it rules, on behalf of its rapacious and greedy members, who are Zionists, oil monopolists and petro-banksters. The host peoples of these predators and parasites are being held in or driven down into poverty and deprivation, as we see in the Jew-Ess-Eh. Dr. Pierce calls these zoglings "The Club", for members of The Money Power. The Club has various names, most notably, The Bilderbergers and The Tri-Lateralists. Their goal is to use every means to curtail development and productivity outside their sphere of interest. Hence, the pattern is revealed by Engdahl.

Beginning in the 1880s, the rulers of Britain realized the importance of oil in the development of modern technology, so Britain sought to control the sources of that substance which was already prevalent in The Middle East, along Britain's trade route to India. Upstart Germany had to be prevented from reaching the oil fields of the Turkish Empire (modern Iraq, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, &c.) The Berlin to Bagdad (& Basra) railway could never be negotiated in favor of the British rulers' interests, as Benjamin Freedman said, so war was the only course of action for Britzog. Kuwait was taken from the Turks to block the German rail link to the Indian Ocean. Engdahl writes of the Jew, Gen. Schwarzkopf (blackhead) bragging how ZOG forces bombed the last part of the Germans' Berlin to Bagdad railway, which runs into the Kirkuk oil fields. One is reminded of Gen. Cornwallis' 'Prophecy' to George Washington at the Yorktown surrender: "(l) You'll be back under the British Empire before you know it. (2) Your best men will die in a 'holy war'. (3) Your religion will be Judaism, but you won't know it." All 3 prophecies came true: (1) We lost our independence with the incorporation of The 1st U.S. Bank, so we were basically carrying on as a colony with a new name. (2) The insane Civil War did kill our best men and represented the death of our White nation. (3) Just look around: see the kosher tax on goods in interstate commerce? The U and the K denote that we have paid a religious tax to Judaism. That means we do have an established religion, despite the 1st Amendment. Look at our money: "In God We Trust" replaced "E pluribus unum", yet, the hebes prate about "separation of church and state." You cannot say "Jesus", but you can say "God", alias Yahweh! "Under God" was adopted in the Pledge of Allegiance, so that is kosher, too. If we were really in favor of 'diversity' we would have to say, "In Gods We Trust!"

Foster Morrison is erudite, humorous and clever. He is similar to a comedian who amuses his fellow passengers on The Titanic, as it heads for the bottom. It appears that he is a 'ZOG-denier'. These fellows go where Nazis fear to tread. That is why they usually come short, sooner or later. Commander Rockwell described a fellow like that in "This Time the World." He was content to write sardonic criticisms of District of Corruption politicos, BUT he never, ever wanted to do any thing to stop them, by building a political organisation to counter their machinations. According to folklore, Nero played a mean fiddle during the Roman conflagration. Everyone I know who has had trouble from the ZOG, including myself, behaved as if the ZOG did not exist. In order to believe in the nonexistence of the ZOG, one must believe in the nonexistence of government, or one must believe, as I did, that 'my government' was something quite different than it turned out to be. When one believes government to be an ephemeral, loosely-knit group of vying interest groups comprised of feckless opportunists, instead of a closely-coordinated bunch of Jew-supremacist criminals, one is due for some big surprises. It is like disbelieving in organized crime (which is the ZOG by another name). No, we do have a ZOG or the ZOG has us. The ZOG has organization, direction and armed minions who enforce its policies. It really is a coherent, cohesive, coercive entity. The fact that the ZOG, and other branches of organized crime, has a policy, with subordinate clauses, means that individuals, even Jews, are expendable. Remember Meyer Lansky and his childhood buddy, Bugsy Siegel? Meyer warned Bugsy to avoid publicity photos in Las Vegas, with blonde shiksa bimbos on his arm. Bugsy ignored the warning, so he was blown away in North Hollywood by a sawed-off shotgun, crime unsolved.

Back to ZOG-oil politics: After World War I, Weimar Germany and the Soviet Jewnion wanted to enter into a mutually-beneficial relationship, in which Germany would exchange manufactured goods for Soviet oil. The Jew, Rathenau and his Soviet Jew counterpart signed The Rapallo Treaty, to that effect. Result: Rathenau assassinated by "rightwing extremists"; no deal. After World War II, an Italian patriot, Mattei, wanted to trade Italian pipe for Soviet oil. Result: Mattei assassinated; no deal. Nowadays, Europe wants Soviet Oil, Iraqi oil, etc., to obtain better prices than it now does from the Anglo-Zionist oil monopoly. Result: Iraq bombed and blockaded; a "Chechen Rebellion" in the Russian Empire, which blocks oil transport from east to west. The Engdahl book describes current ZOG policy for the creation of a "crescent of crises" in the oil production areas of the Middle East, as well as the blockage of oil transport from oil sources to Europe, which must otherwise rely upon the Anglo-Zionist oil monopolists for their supplies. Secretary of State Baker created the latest Balkan crises by telling Milosovic of Serbia that "the U.S. wanted Yugoslavia (under Serb rule) to remain intact." Hence, the Serbian offensive against Bosnian/Croatian independence, which the U.S. blamed on Serbia! Previously, Kuwait was sucking Iraq oil fields dry and undercutting the Iraqi oil prices. 'Uncle Saddam' asked April Glaspie, the U.S. representative, if he could stop Kuwait from hurting the Iraqi economy, and he also wanted to know of any U.S. objections to his annexation of Kuwait. As the U.S. representative, Glaspie told him "the U.S. had no interests in Kuwait." Saddam took the bait. Result: The Gulf Massacre and the U.S./U.N. oil embargo on Iraq. Saddam is no rocket scientist, despite the U.S. accusations against him. The U.S. suckered him into invading Iran, after the fall of the Shah, only to discover that the Iraqis had bumped into a hornets' nest of Moslem fanatics! After that burn, Saddam should have been very shy as to April Glaspie's assurances. So much for alleged Arab shrewdness! Saddam behaved like a rube on those two important occasions. Maybe he is better at camel-trading.

I am surprised you find Robert's prospecting venture so bizarre. Panning for gold is something my father and I always did when we went camping. After I got out of the U.S. Army in 1961, I went up to the California goldfields, mainly to get away from the rat-race, but secondarily, to look for refreshed stocks of alluvial gold. There were big strikes in the old gold-rush areas, and reports of scuba divers scooping up large nuggets on the beds of streams. The reason for these finds was due to the fact that mother lodes had not been located by the original forty-niners, and that alluvial gold deposits had been replenished from them. I took a bus, then a "Stage", the locals' word for minivans, to Murphy's Camp, where I spent one 'luxurious' night at the hotel, where Black Bart had signed the register under an alias. I then hiked up the first stream I encountered, gold pan at the ready. I camped out for a couple of days, but then, I noticed the lightning fires: columns of smoke which were growing in size and in number. Here I was, playing prospector, when the entire forest was going up in smoke! I was a firefighter every summer from 1955 to 1959. That is how I helped pay for my college tuition. Duty came before 'bonanza', so I hitch-hiked down to the U.S. Forest Service at Sonora and signed on. Another fellow and I were immediately assigned to put out a snag-fire on a ridge. We were provided with canteens, box lunches, axes, one 'Swedish steam saw' and a shovel, and sent on our way with best wishes. That summer of 1961, the Stanislaus District was a real holocaust. There were 'lightning busts' all over. I was assigned as "Helitack Foreman, (GS-5)", in view of my previous fire-fighting experience, and I was put in charge of a 5-man crew of 'hotshots'. I'd had previous hotshot experience, so I knew what our job was: to see where the fire was advancing, and to head it off, and, hopefully, stop it from spreading in that direction. One victory I relished was when our crew stopped a fire on a ridge, a short distance from an oil tank farm in the Angeles District! It was a near thing. On the Stanislaus, we used helicopters to get into the fire areas. The idea was to hit the fire before it got big. We never lost a fire, under my foremanship; nor did a fire reignite when I declared it "out". Experience counts, and so does luck! All fires are similar, but none is quite the same. There are always new tricks to be learned. I don't like helicopter flights one bit.

My next stint at prospecting was straight out of "The Treasure of the Sierra Madres", for that was the actual location. In 1967, I was in Durango where I met an American and others who'd done a lot of prospecting and goldmining in the area. A Mexican colleague, in Mexico City, had on file the locations of all known and suspected locations of mineral resources, including gold, throughout Mexico. He told me that many producing goldmines had been abandoned during the 1910 revolution and civil war. That's how I wound up in Durango, capital of the state of Durango. One American was a bit of a joke in the Gringo community, but I wasn't told why. I had to find out on my own. Durango was very educational. That is where I learned to have no dealings with fools and no business arrangements with crooks. My Gringo contact was a crooked fool and his Mexican buddies were less foolish, but equally crooked and bone-lazy.

In Mexico, everyone is crooked to one degree or another. The Gringos in Durango were usually involved in smuggling, doing legitimate business illegally, without permits, or stashing hot money from tax-evasion schemes in the U.S. The police and government authorities were all on the payola, in addition to whatever they could steal. If one wonders whether or not he has a 'death- wish' or self-destructive urge, I recommend Mexico. In one room at the Hotel Posada Duran in Durango, one could gamble away his fortune; drink himself to death; get shot dead; hire someone to shoot somebody; rent or buy a woman, etc. All at very reasonable prices. It was the Wild West, in Spanish. I did business there. Not only did I survive, I prospered, at least to a modest extent. Let me say, I travelled around the world for 3 years and did not need to earn a cent! I finally ran out of money when I reached Rhodesia. Anyway, my American 'colleague' introduced me to two bandidos, his 'good buddies', at a local whorehouse/night club in Durango. He had been stealing from his Gringo employer, for whom he ran a goldmine, in order to pay these two 'caballeros' to start his own mining operation in the Sierra Madre Occidental. In fact, he'd recently paid them for their alleged services. I wondered for a moment why they arranged to meet us in the whorehouse, but later, I realized they'd been spending all their money on 'fun' rather than the work they lied about having done. My Gringo colleague was a crook, a thief, who was being robbed by thieves, as it turned out. It was not a "gemütlich" evening, as the Germans would say. I didn't know my business associates very well, and the more I learned, the more uneasy I became. Still, I was young and had nothing to lose. I had few funds to invest, and nothing worth stealing, and there was the prospect of finding enough gold to improve my finances considerably. I did not know what my ex-Marine Gringo 'partner' had done to get the money he had been paying his two 'amigos' until I met the mine owner from whom he was stealing payroll money. What I found out first was that the two Mexican 'friends' immediately offered to cut me into 'a real good deal' on another mine, as soon as my Gringo amigo had left for the latrine. They showed me a chunk of rock which purportedly came from that mine. It certainly looked rich in copper, mercury and maybe silver; but, as we know, one sample does not make a mine. I was alarmed to see how quickly they would betray their 'bosom buddy'. I excused myself on the pretext that I needed to drain some used beer, and I collared my 'partner' in the corridor. I told him about the offer, but he seemed unconcerned. We returned to the table, where his, Mexican partners regaled us with tales of progress in developing the mine. Allegedly, they'd built the tauna and arrasta of stone, and cleared a trail up to the mine site. All this was accompanied by muchas taquilas on their part, while I grimly sipped my warm beer. To make a painful story mercifully short, I accompanied this bunch, along with another Gringo, who turned out to be a Mafia representative for Lacavoli (sp?) the racetrack racketeer. My 'partner' sure could pick 'em'. We left Durango by train and arrived at end of track (in those days), at Los Mochis, where we collected our pack animals and hiked in a southerly direction, toward the dwellings of the two Mexicans and the alleged site of the mine my 'partner' had been developing for more than a year. We hiked down into bananas, then up through pines, then above timberline. Progress was slow. After the third day, I began to feel that 'our Mexicans' were in no hurry to reach our destination. On the fourth day, I discovered why: NADA! There wasn't a trace of any work done at the site they indicated. They claimed it had been washed away by a flash-flood. By that time I didn't care one way or the other. The Mafia man was not amused, especially when his watch went missing. During a day of cussing, haggling and mutual recrimination, I did some panning in the stream. My souvenir of the trip was a 'button' of gold about the size of my thumb nail. The alluvial deposits were rich, but the locals preferred banditry to prospecting, so they'd watch and wait for fools to do the work, after which the locals would take their lives and their gold. Of course, it's illegal for Gringos to mine gold in Mexico, but only if you get caught. I had more fear of 'our' Mexican 'partners' than I did of the authorities. After a very unpleasant night, The Mexicans departed and the three Gringos made our way back to Los Mochis. What a fiasco! The lesson I learned was that trustworthy companions are worth much more than gold.

I left Durango in time to register for the fall semester at San Francisco State College, now "University", where I took graduate courses in International Relations, and really got into trouble with FEDZOGUSA because of my Peruvian studies. As I reread this text for typos, I appreciate just how lucky I have been.

While working with Zündel in Toronto, I met the husband of "Anne Burton", Zündel's jewish mistress. He was an American, but had lived so long in Canada that he had Canadian citizenship. His name was John ("Jack") Burton, a geologist who specialized in finding petroleum. He discovered oil in Saskatchewan. He was in his eighties when I first met him, but quite spry and sharp as a tack in the brain department. We should be so lucky! He had a theory which he used to find huge oil deposits. As I recall, it had something to do with molecular attraction. He assured me that Ontario Province was rich in oil, but CANZOG REFUSED to permit exploratory drilling, based on the 'advice' of the Petroleum Institute, the mouthpiece for the oil monopoly. The British Isles float on oil, but land-based drilling is prohibited by the many conflicting laws on the ownership of subsoil resources, he said. That is the reason for the 'offshore' drilling: the rigs are offshore, but directional drilling taps into the subsoil land masses. My father told me that over 360 wells can be drilled from one rigsite, and that drill-pipe can be directed horizontally, after going some distance straight down. Amazing what these White folks can do!

In my travels I learned of the many proven, but undeveloped oil fields. A Caltex official in Rhodesia mentioned 52 wells capped off the coast of Mozambique. Many wells in Alberta are capped, although they are good producers. A well came in at Mt. Zion in West Virginia and Exxon capped it immediately. The hills of West Virginia ooze with oil springs, like some hills I've seen in California. The first commercial oil wells in North America are those of Petrolia, Ontario, Jack Burton told me, and they are still producing. Oil is forcing its way up into water wells and cisterns in Jarvis, Ontario, but CANZOG and the Petroleum Institute prefer it not be mentioned. Yockey rightly observed that natural resources would be used as pretexts for war. There is no need for USZOG to 'defend' Middle East oil at the cost of American lives, when North and South America are overflowing with oil. The reason for USZOG forces to be in the Middle East is to prevent the oil monopolists from losing their control of the Middle East oil supply, using Israel as an excuse as well. We will probably see how much U.S. presence is due to Israel and how much to the oil monopoly. If I had a son or daughter, I would certainly not like them sacrificed for Big Oil or for Little Israel. Engdahl shows how these malefactors of 'petro-banking' are ruining previously well-off people, like those of the U.S.A., according to plan. We are up against a real and very nasty octopus.

I, too, have a set of values, a code of honor, which consists of loyalty to the people and to the Cause I serve, and in keeping my word. Although I have seen myself betrayed by people I've served, I do not betray my loyalty. A Great Cause is worth serving to the best of one's ability, so no worthy cause betrays anyone, although it can be betrayed by unworthy servants. People can betray people, and one can betray himself. When society is torn by diversity, and tumult results, certain values may become deadly luxuries. I have no loyalty to FEDZOGUSA, for example, for I would be a fool if I did. In a war for racial survival, many values must go by the board, just as they do in any war. War, after all, is theft, destruction and murder on a massive scale. These 'crimes' are 'justified' by the belligerents in their propaganda statements. Wars can be fought for base reasons or for altruistic ones (ha!), but as Hitler said, the only justification for war is the defense of land or the acquisition of land for one's people. Any other 'reason' for war is egregious twaddle. Aside from the Indian Wars, the Revolutionary War and the Mexican War, all other wars fought by the people of the U.S.A. were based on egregious twaddle. No one ever wanted to 'invade' the U.S.A., least of all the Japs and Germans, who were already here, anyway. The most massive invasion of U.S. territory has been occurring since World War II, but people are unable to see it as such. As for defending 'democracy', we cannot even defend it here, for the U.S.A. has never been a democracy. Guerrilla warfare involves the same things: theft, destruction of property and murder, on a lesser scale than 'conventional warfare'. The object of war is to use these means to win, and the winner is usually the one who treats his opponent most dishonorably. Sometimes one side or the other accuses their opponents of 'unfair' tactics, after which, both sides adopt the 'unfair', but profitable means of winning. Remember how submarine warfare and the bombardment of civilian populations were first denounced, then universally adopted.

Espionage, including "gentlemen reading other gentlemen's mail", has been deemed the least honorable means of fighting one's opponent, yet, all sides use it and appreciate its value. One shows his loyalty to his people by striving for victory, regardless of the damage done to his physical being and his reputation. The Old Testament's books of Judith and Esther point to patriotic prostitutes as the vanguard of Jew victory over the Goyim. 'Heroic whores' as weapons of war! Well, I saw how effective such whores can be, most recently in Zündel's case.

I note the rambling content of this letter, which is being typed in haste, now that I must work seven days a week, owing to the dysgenic nature of several fellow employees. Just as I was about to resume work on my second novel, my time was stolen by these dysfunctionals and their dysfunctional families. When one works with mongrels and downbred specimens, one needs no 'conspiracies' to explain these setbacks. The frightening prospect is that these subhumans are the 'best' employees we can obtain!

I wonder about Foster Morrison's term "New Saxons". Nothing like working against White Unity! I am not a Saxon, and "Thomson" is a Scottish name, as far as I know, so I am excluded from the 'Foster Reich'. So are the Angles, Jutes, Goths, Celts, Dutch, Danes, Swedes, Norwegians, and the Viking bunch. "No Irish need apply," eh? Sometimes I wonder if Foster is a refugee from Instauration (an archaic word meaning restoration). Erudition is not necessarily expressed by a vocabulary which is both arcane and archaic, but it can be amusing.

My years in Latin America satisfied my desire to escape the Judeo-American rat-race, as well as my thirst for knowledge of other people and places. The humdrum life in California, with its headless hedonism and crazy materialism had no attractions for me. I was interested in politics and history, as well as the exploration of South America, so I channelled my education and my efforts toward that purpose. I saved money, initially, to go down there. Then I found jobs which enabled me to live there and travel around. That is what I did in Europe, working out of Barcelona, where I was employed illegally, as I have been in most countries I've lived in. My work was more or less legal, but my presence as a worker rarely was. It certainly surprised me to discover that my freelance journalism in Peru could get me kicked out of the U.S.A., but that's what happened: another learning experience! Life is sure full of little surprises. Inexorably, the importance of race became deeply ingrained in my psyche. It was foolish for a Gringo to do anything for these mud-people, unless it benefitted the Gringo, many times over. On the other hand, the muds saw you as 'meat on the hoof', a target for predation. Had I been able to spend five minutes with multi-millionaire Ludwig before he hatched his Brazilian debacle, I could have saved him 5 billion dollars. The Brazilian muds were the same as the Mexican cockroach people: they'd watch the Gringo invest and work, iron out the wrinkles and get the bugs out; then they'd use their political power to steal the Gringo's project. After Ludwig paid to get the Amazon Project underway, the muds told him that "his title to the land was not clear." Ludwig walked away from his investment, which included fast-growing pulp forests, a huge papermill, mines, roads, railroads, port facilities, a town with all modern amenities, etc.

It is the height of folly to let them into one's country, for they will take it over and ruin it, exactly as they have done their own. A recent Mexican president declared, as he looked north at the U.S.A.: "Gobernar es poblar." ("To govern is to populate.") He wasn't talking about over-populated Mexico! You can bet that Bush has got the hispano-mestizo vote, for he's practically 'one of them' with his Colombian wife and mestizo offspring. If I were Black, I'd be pretty uneasy, scared, in fact, for an Asiatic society (comprised of so-called Indian mixtures and more recently-arrived Asians) will not put up with Blacks, period. Of course, the Whites are too jew-dazed to worry about it. Even though White people made the space program possible, we don't seem very smart in finding the answer to the question, "to be or not to be".

What useful idiots we are, to our enemies! In your department, you probably remember Cardenas' confiscation of the Mexican oil fields in the late thirties, backed by FDR. The Gringos found the oil, developed it, and the Mexicans took it. Latin America is pretty much the same, wherever the mud-color predominates. If you have the time, I recommend a book by an American who wrote about his life in Colombia as an emerald prospector. The title is "Green Fire", as I recall. A movie was made about it, starring a British actor whom I always confuse with Jimmy Stewart, for their surnames seem to be the same or very similar.

My Colombian experience was also very educational, to the effect that FEDZOGUSA should not get too involved in Colombian politics. It's a losing game. Foster Morrison may be correct in his view that the U.S. government is firmly in the hands of the druglords who supply them with 'nose-candy'. In my first novel, "The Chosen One", I mention the importance of drugs to keep a population from becoming politically rebellious. "The opiate of the masses", as the jew Lenin would call it.

I never panned gold after the Durango fiasco. I was smart enough to recognize real treasure when I see it, and that treasure is knowledge, all of which I am happy to pass on to anyone who will take it and use it for the benefit of Our Race.

Eric Thomson

ORION - Our Race Is Our Nation!