There once was an overseer on the Hellerup estate who was a real scourge on the peasants. He rode around the fields to make sure peasants worked hard enough and he was keen to use his whip on the serfs. Once he struck so hard that a peasant died from it. The overseer didn't get any peace in his grave though, every night he had to ride the fields where he had done his injustice. He rode a white horse and it was especially in the Southern Woods and around the Fjerritslev farm he hung out, until a peasant met him one night and - in the name of God - pulled him off the horse and gave him a beating. The horse ran away and the overseer suddenly disappeared in the hands of the peasant. He was never seen again.

Following Chairman Mao's call to go down to the countryside, I spent a day connecting to the dark heart of whiteness and avoided revealing military secrets in the process.

I had never heard of that village until the day that a friend of us called and told us that they had an annual market going on there and asked if we wanted to go. There would be stalls where you could buy all sorts of crap, beer on tap and rides for the kids. So me, my partner, our kids and our friend loaded up our cars and left the multicultural wokery of the big city behind to spend a day among the hardworking salt of the earth people who constitutes the real Denmark.

The market was organised by the village citizens' association in order to raise funds for local amateur sports and similar activities. Upon arrival, we were greeted by members of said association dressed in yellow vests who directed us to park on the muddy patch of grass that was the parking lot for a seven dollar fee. People there still follow the old ways, so when our female friend drove up to them with our queer short-haired teenage daughter on the front seat, they assumed she was the man in charge of the vehicle and tried to solicit payment from her, until our friend insisted that she, as the adult driving the car, was going to pay.

Then we went to the market, a mix of tents, caravans and rides put up on an empty field outside the village. A road divided the grounds into two and we went to the left where we quickly found a beer tent with wooden benches and a stage in front. We bought pints for the adults and sodapop for the kids. The beverages were cold and refreshing as we sipped them from the disposable plastic cups that are ubiquitous whenever beer is sold in a field. Nearby, a stall sold fried pork sandwiches, and we had the dubious pleasure of having direct view of the stand of a fascist party adorned with a big banner airing their latest grievance: "Save Danish agriculture!" Apparently, farming is about to be ended by an upcoming carbon tax.

The police had sent the two youngest and blondest female cops they could find to the market to mill around and smile at people. In police lingo, this is called "safety-creation." You have to hand it to the fuss on this one, the marketgoers were exactly the kind of people who would feel reassured by the sight of cops. Apart from a Native American guy selling pan pipes and dreamcatchers, we hadn't seen a single non-white person among the guests and merchants. We would soon find out why.

A bearded man in his 60's, wearing glasses and a baseball cap, went on stage singing and playing a Stratocaster. He was covering popular 1980s and 1990s pop songs, the kind anyone coming of age in Denmark during those years would know. Was he any good? Certainly not. Was he good enough for the job? Absolutely. He even had the courtesy to move his head away from the microphone whenever there were notes his voice couldn't reach. A few older people were dancing in front of the stage, the sun was shining, and the mood was good.

We browsed the stalls to see what was on offer. The shopkeepers' attitude towards taxation was best described by the "We love cash!" sign prominently displayed at one stall. The goods fell into two categories: old stuff and new stuff.

In the old stuff category, items ranged from garage sale junk to what you’d expect in low-tier antique stores. Several stalls sold old hand tools in varying states of disrepair. One stand's inventory looked like the going-out-of-business sale of a 1995 hardware store teleported to the present day.

The new stuff category offered goods you can't find in proper shops: the world's fakest football jerseys, cigarette lighters with skulls on them, a live poodle, cigarette lighters shaped like guns, supplies for dog and horse ownership, USB-charged cigarette lighters, 20 dollar Gucci watches, and cigarette lighters shaped like muscle cars with watch movements in them. There was also an abundance of food products of inscrutable provenance that were either disgusting health and safety hazards and/or much better than anything you would ever get in supermarkets.

As we browsed the stalls my partner noticed that shopkeepers were treating her weirdly. Being born and raised in Denmark and having a name so stereotypically Danish that JK Rowling could have come up with it, she has also inherited her stunning black hair and slightly darker skin tone from an Italian grandparent. People often mistake her for being Turkish or otherwise non-white. In the immigrant-run stores at home, this usually results in nice discounts, but here, it was a different story.

The shopkeepers clearly didn't like her. When I or our friend looked at the goods, they were nice or indifferent. But when my partner did the same, they immediately stopped what they were doing to closely watch her, as if she might steal their old silverware or porcelain figurines. They had decided she was one of "them." One shopkeeper directly asked her to leave, while another angrily told her to "talk Danish" when she spoke Italian to our kid.

We were deep in the heart of whiteness, so it wasn't surprising to see the Home Guard had set up a stall. The Home Guard is a Cold War relic of civilians LARPing as soldiers a few weekends a year. They offer the easiest way to get a gun and a uniform in Denmark, accepting those too fat and out of shape for the police or military. They hold a special place in the hearts of chuds, some of whom fantasize about being the white vanguard in an upcoming race war.

Their stall featured a jeep and an assortment of rifles, all firmly secured to the table with chains, that the public could hold. We were greeted by a woman in military uniform who looked the exact opposite of how you imagine the ideal elite soldier. "Come in!" she said, immediately trying to recruit me for the defense of the fatherland by enthusiastically mentioning that they had enlistment forms inside. I smiled and nodded.

Unlike me who have not even been a boyscout, my partner over spent a few months as a recruit and she is familiar with military hardware. "Do you have an M/75 in there?" she asked, referring to the long-time standard-issue rifle of the Danish military. "We have all sorts of stuff in there!" The Home Guard woman said, clearly confused. I am not sure if her confusion was caused by the technical nature of the question being above her expertise or if she was thrown off by the question coming from my partner and not from me.

Our kids had great fun holding the guns and my partner reached for her phone to take some pictures. "You can't do that!" the Home Guard guy overseeing the stall said. If pictures of children holding guns was posted to social media it could "hurt the image"of the Home Guard, we were told. The guy explained to my partner that "we don't have child soldiers in Denmark", as if that needed clarification.

We didn't want to stay after this visit to the people keeping us safe from Putin. The vibes in that area were nasty and my partner felt unsafe. We went across the road to the other hand of the grounds and things were a lot better there. We began to see other skin colours than pig pink and people were noticeably less nasty. Signs of civilization like kebab stalls and Asian grocers emerged.

We went to the area where the kids could try different rides. The rides were mostly operated by seasonal workers from Eastern Europe and each ride was blasting it's own playlist of either current hits or 1980's Eurovision songs into the air. As the kids were having fun in a bouncy castle next to the employees' restrooms I noticed how the restrooms were segregated with one reserved for Danish and Polish workers and the two others for Romanian workers.

After the kids had finished their rides we needed refreshments so we went into a big beer tent and sat down at an empty table scattered with the remnants of several of the giant hot dogs, giant burgers and giant kebabs offered for sale nearby. You don't buy normal-sized food at events live this. We looked at the beverages offered, a few sodas, beer by the buckets and lots of moronic shots sold in tiny tubes, and decided that we had had enough for today and that we would grab something to drink from McDonalds. On our way home instead. As we exited the grounds I noticed how someone had been so overjoyed by the selection of beverages offered at the market that they had emptied the contents of their stomach beneath the sign at the entrance.

Spending a day like this, connecting to my cultural roots, was an educating experience and I am happy to report that I had so much authentic Danish folkishness that I will not need to go again any time soon.

The elder tree held a magical reputation in Western European folklore, deeply intertwined with goddess cults such as those of Venus and the Norse fertility goddess Freya. In Scandinavia, planting an elder near your house, especially by the kitchen, was believed to protect the home and fill it with love. Elders were thought to be immune to lightning strikes, offering further protection. The tree was also seen as a portal to the spirit realm; standing under an elder on midsummer eve supposedly enabled one to see the king of the elves.

Elder was highly valued in folk medicine despite its mild toxicity. The plant contains prussic acid, which can cause vomiting or diarrhea in small doses. It was believed that elder bark cut from the bottom upwards acted as an emetic, while bark cut from the top downwards served as a laxative. The flowers and berries were used to treat colds and flus. To ward off evil spirits and relieve toothache, people would put a twig from an elder tree in their mouths.

However, one couldn't just take from an elder tree without consequences. The tree was believed to be inhabited by an Elder Mother or Elder Woman, a protective spirit (some say she originated as a localised version of Freya) who would avenge any harm done to the tree. People would ask her for permission three times before picking out cutting anything from the tree. Cutting down an elder without planting a new one was considered bad luck, with folk stories recounting the deaths of those who did so, presumably at the hands of a vengeful Elder Mother.

The Elder Mother also disapproved of using elder wood for furniture or tools. Stories tell of her disturbing babies who slept in cots made from elder wood or in rooms with elder paneling by pulling their legs. However, if treated with respect, the Elder Mother, and sometimes an entire elder family with elder women, men, and children, would help busy housewives by churning butter or polishing copperware at night.

Some stories even tell of the elder tree itself being sentient and animate, with one story from Copenhagen telling of how the elder tree in a courtyard would move to a new position every night and look through the windows of the rooms inside.

The Elder Mother exemplifies traditional Germanic belief in wights, collective spirits or deities connected to a locality like a landscape, river, or farmhouse, and sometimes to families or bloodlines. Wights are neither good nor evil but are forces of nature to be reckoned with. Respect them, and they will help you; disrespect them, and they can destroy you.

Back in February we paid to get new tires on the car. One of them has been leaky for the last couple of months, something I've continually been putting in the "I'll deal with it later" pile as topping up the air once a week was easier and cheaper than dealing with it.

Now the damn tire is flat. The roadside repair guy said that the tire was soft and decayed. I'm 75% sure that a new tire is not supposed to do that so soon.

Now I'm wondering if the mechanic put on old tires or if I've been an idiot by not getting the tie fixed in time and the frequent deflation/inflation cycles has ruined the thing.

Edit: Fucking hell! The code on the tire says it's from 2007! What the fuck? The damn car went through inspection and everything with that antique on.

Early modern South Scandinavian folklore tells of the Gravso (grave sow), also called Gloso (glowing sow), Glumso (gloom sow) or Church Sow when sighted near a church.

First mentioned by a Copenhagen priest in 1587, the Grave Sow is described as a large boar or pig, often with long bristles and sometimes headless. Her eyes are red or glowing. Some stories tell of the back of the Grave Sow being razor sharp and able to cleave a man in half if the sow runs between his legs. She is often seen near the churchyard but can also be found in other places like near highways. Sometimes she is followed by a farrow of seven or twelve piglets.

The Grave Sow would come out at night, especially on dates considered magical. Seeing or even hearing the Grave Sow was often considered an omen of death or calamity and people who saw the her sometimes fell sick or lost their minds. Some stories tell of the people and horses being spellbound by the sow and suffering memory loss. Some accounts tell of the Grave Sow being especially dangerous to people carrying pouches made from pig bladders or clothing made from pig leather.

The Grave Sow has many similarities with other ominous revenant animals connected to churches but unlike creatures like the Hel-horses which legend has was horses that had been buried alive and sacrificed during construction of the church, the Grave Sow was believed to be the spirit of an unbaptised illegitimate child that had been born in secrecy and buried. It followed that a Grave Sow could be laid to rest by finding the remains of the child and given them a proper Christian burial. Common for many supernatural phenomena of the day, the Christian god was believed to be able to protect believers from the Grave Sow, like in one story where a peasant makes the Grave Sow disappear by reciting the lord's prayer.

I hope 2024 becomes a great year for you reading this, for the Hexbear community and for working class liberation all over the world.

And a normal merry time to those who don't.

All current and historical AES states have had electoral systems that differs significantly from the systems known from bourgeois parliamentary systems. Candidates are selected either by the vanguard party or by a unity front dominated by the vanguard party. Voters can then view either for our against the one list of candidates.

To my my knowledge there are virtually no historical examples of voters rejecting the list and there are reports (in Western sources, so they should be taken with a grain of salt) of significant social pressure being levied on voters to vote yes for the list.

You don't get the election night dramas known from bourgeois systems where there can be genuine uncertainty as to whether ghoul A or ghoul B gets elected. In bourgeois states the function of elections seems to be to legitimise the system by giving voters a relatively free choice between a selection of candidates within the accepted spectrum of (liberal-conservative) opinion. In AES states, at the time of the election voters doesn't seem to have much influence and their participation seems to be ceremonial in nature.

This begs the question what the function of these elections are. The lazy liberal explanation is that the evil commies are hiding sham elections that they think people are too stupid to see through. However, AES states has been around for more than a century and almost all of them uses some version of this system so they clearly must have some function in legitimising the state and mobilising popular support.

I would love if someone with knowledge in the subject could elaborate on this.

Terf Islanders are tiiiiiiired

I would like to extend my best wishes to all, even the haters and losers, on this special date, September 11th

Libs are seething and coping

I work in tech. I like the work itself and my coworkers are all nice and polite people. But their views on politics, economics and the world in general is complete dogshit.

Elon Musk? The world's biggest brain genius. Demanding fees for healthcare? Very reasonable and necessary. Inheritance tax? An unspeakable injustice. Jordan Peterson? An insightful intellectual. Learning a second foreign language in school? Waste of time when you could have programming classes instead. Learning ancient history in high school? Stupid and useless when you already know you want to work in tech. STEM? The pinnacle of prestigious human knowledge. Humanities? A ridiculous and useless waste of time. Trades? Probably okay if you're too stupid to do something better. Unions? Outdated and useless. Arts? Does not compute.

All they seem to care about is learning how to code, getting a job or starting a business and succeeding at that by being a lone Randian superman. They have no sense of broader solidarity or for the existence of something of value beyond the hamster wheel of the grindset.

I think these people are a product of an educational system that is set up to produce good employees rather than good citizens. University level education will include a few token classes on broader subjects like history or philosophy but staff and students treats them like something to get over with so you can do the important stuff rather than something of importance. And you can hardly blame them, the dog eat dog world of capitalism doesn't reward an engineer for writing sonnets or knowing labour history and consequently students focus their attention on learning stuff that will make them less likely to end up on the bottom of the hierarchy.

In essence generations has been raised to be very skilled in a few practical technical fields while being completely illiterate about everything else.

How do you deal with these people in daily life? With their idiotic reactionary beliefs and their stubborn refusal to acknowledge any form of culture beyond the handful of IP rights white western cishet males are expected to enjoy?

And how do we prevent STEM lord bullshit under socialism?