The Reviews
The decency of David Duke sanctifies this monumental autobiography. In My Awakening, Dr. Duke tells his side of the story. Lines canter that soon break into a gallop. You better hang on.
At 696, I was sorry to turn the last page, having become addicted to Duke’s energy. His enveloping, potent flow pulled me down a pristine river. Duke’s righteous mind is a treasure trove of Western Creed. Oh how this Louisiana boy can write. I wish Daddy was still around so I could hand him this book tonight.
Back when I was a brain-washed kid, I thought men like Daddy were crazy. He tried to share with me what he knew, but nothing he said was on TV. So how could it be true? I waved off Daddy’s earnest words as musings of a man who read books that nobody sold at the mall. He and David Duke were 35 years ahead of their time. That’s all.
In My Awakening, Duke spells out what many are afraid to say. For the same reason that Baptist preachers don’t preach the Word today. They rather mumble a lukewarm pabulum from spirit-broken pulpits of despair. What Duke has written will clear the air.
If there is one thing Dr. Duke does not lack — it is spirit. If he was a horse, he would be a thoroughbred. Charging out of the gate with, “We were spirited and we were proud. We knew what honor meant…”, he takes his reader for the ride of a lifetime through his Gentilly Woods from the perspective of a Norman Rockwell childhood. Back when growing up in America meant something different than it does today.
He delves into subjects little-known and long taboo. But ones that we must face for the survival of our race. For it is race, Duke explains, that is the well-spring of our culture. And the very substance of the engine that drives our Western standard of living.
His extensive travels afford vignettes that lard his text. Splendidly, Duke points out that in Japan they don’t have a crime problem. Their streets are clean and safe. A Japanese solidarity pervades everything. They stand firm together as one people. And scramble to snatch a gum-wrapper that somebody accidentally dropped — before it hits the ground. We don’t have that in the USA. “Why is that,” you say? Dr. Duke has a few words about it.
In contrast to the homogeneity and order of Japan, Duke describes what he saw in Third World places. Where people are racially stratified and forced into proximity, there is often strife, crime, and corruption. While poverty, over-population, squalor, ignorance and disease seem the norms in sub-Saharan Africa, South Asia, Mexico, Central and South America, Haiti, Jamaica and other such places — places that now send their destitute, illiterate masses pouring across our borders. The indisputable facts of Duke’s argument give the reader pause. It is what it is.
Egypt, India, Rome and Greece bear the signature of a breed. Thebes, Karnak, Luxor, the Colosseum, Acropolis, and the Taj Mahal are more than the wind can blow away. What architect, what builder among men would erect such things? Whence comes inspiration for colossi along the river? What cry to Heaven writes the Mass? Tell me if you please.
David Duke sure does. His awakening, like mine, and many burgeoning others, serves to strike a kindred note for a people long-hushed, long-gagged and long-suppressed by a shadowy foe. Since my public education began, I cannot think of a time when I was encouraged to celebrate my European heritage. Not once. I often wondered, but never asked why we are expected to celebrate everybody else’s but our own.
Since our people engineered the wonders of the world and invented just about everything worth a damn, don’t we deserve a day on the calendar too? Duke addresses this question in sweeping detail.
In support of the race question, Duke invokes the names of many scholars, scientists and philosophers who have written about it before. Their work of course has been suppressed by the same nemesis — the enemy of Christ and Christendom, Islam, and the seminal Spirit of the West that is Europe. The same nemesis who is jealous of our Anglo-Saxony and Western Canon envies our every high-reaching Roman spire.
Our men invented much. But let us give credit where credit is due. The maples invented a few things too. J. R. Oppenheimer invented the nuclear bomb.
The gist of this read, for me, was that “it is time for white people to come out of the closet” and stand up for who they are. There is no shame in being brilliant, virtuous and creative. So why should we be brow-beaten for it by “affirmative action,” a cancerous welfare state and traitorous usurpers to our government?
Duke’s thesis is that we need to consolidate under one banner and set our tilting bark aright. Get her on even keel and sail to a brighter destiny. We cannot do that in a disparate chaos of fatherless mongrels cast adrift in a sea of (as the Bolshevik regarded the proletariat) “expendables.” An ignorant herd of disposable humanity available for a tyrannical police state and military operations. People so racially-confused that they are anchored to nothing and no-one. No family patriarch. No heritage. Rootless. Creedless. Cultureless. Drifting Godless wreckage — in what was once a great nation under God.
Instead of being “indivisible, with liberty and justice for all,” our nation has been purposefully divided by Jewish Zionists into petty warring factions. A house divided have we become of feminists, Blacks, homosexuals, dumbed-down Christian denominations pitted against the Catholic Church — and eachother, a tidal wave of Mexicans, gradations of other 3rd world immigrants who refuse to speak English, the haves and have-nots, the rednecks and welfare mothers. Too much division among a people make them easy pray for political jackals.
The state of modern Israel was born of a swindle. Dr. Duke spends many chapters educating his readers on the history of jackal Zionism, its many crimes, and why it is the arch enemy of American freedom and national sovereignty. He points out lessons learned from the demise of countries and kingdoms past. Indeed Empires have fallen to Talmudic usurpers with great bloodshed and calamity. France, Russia, Germany… The British Crown may as well be a whirly-bird beanie.
Amid his masterful and steady gallop, Duke inserts photographs of his life. Among the most striking are killer photos of Daddy’s much beloved “Wizard Grand.” There stands a White Knight, adorning the front pages of frantic English news. The dashing robed adventurer who eluded Scotland Yard for days.
In Duke’s vivid chronology one reads of the harassment, close calls and threatening blows that have been his trial by fire — sweetly balanced by the flower of his bride, their beautiful children and political victory against all odds. Duke’s life so far has been a great adventure. I see no signs of him slowing down nor losing spirit.
What I learned from this book is that David Duke is the paragon of an honourable man. If he lived during those days, I can see him fittingly mounted with a ponderous raven plume tossing in the wind, hand-on-sabre.
Charge on my good man. You have all the right stuff.
