Aryan Girl Things

The Little Nazi with a heart of Gold

As regular readers will know, some weeks back I did a 2 week water fast, and then started a get back to fit regime. Of which I have currently completely fallen off the wagon for a solid week or so but there is a good reason that will become apparent soon enough and I’ll tell you all about it.

In the meantime, here are two little stories about the three year old, blonde, blue-eyed little terror that is our youngest daughter. This was about maybe a week or ten days into the fast. My wife told me the story.

AG: Mom. Sit down. We need to talk.

Wife: (taken aback by the imperious, 1920’s lady who is simply not accustomed to having someone say no to her, attitude sits down and looks at Aryan Girl with curiosity.)

AG: We must talk about daddy.

Wife: Oh? What about daddy?

AG: I think he is sick. He is not eating anything. It’s not right.

Wife: (also doing her best impression of a 1920’s unflappable English Lady) Oh, darling, it’s fine, he’s just not eating for a few more days, to get healthier again.

AG: Are you sure?

Wife: Yes, he’s fine, really.

AG: Oh. Okay then.

I mean… she is 3. I doubt the 14 year old even noticed.

The second story is mine.

I am sitting in my home office, working every hour I get on a project that is the reason I am not doing anything else for the last ten days or so. I can see the end of it finally, so, as is my way… I quadruple down on galloping towards the finish line.

I hear Aryan Girl and the wife downstairs in the Kitchen…

Wife: Just eat that and then I’ll (garbled)

AG: I don’t want this, I want the pasta.

Wife: Yes, I know, I’m making it, but for now just have that and it will be ready in…

AG: But I don’t want it. I just want the pasta.

Wife: Okay but just …

AG (I can sense her standing up in her chair, leaning over towards her mother, probably with one little hand out towards her, somewhat Italian style, blue eyes laser-focused, and then I hear again, that 1920’s cadence…) Are you not able to understand what I am saying? Can you not understand what I am telling you?

It wasn’t even being rude. It was the genuine voice of how a member of the aristocracy naturally talks to those of a lesser class when trying to get a point across to their naturally less developed and inferior brains. There was no malice in it.

I gently chuckled to myself. All of them have aspects of us both, but that one… somehow she got my brains, the imperial sense of her unquestioned nobility of her blood line (from dad again!) and from some ancient English DNA of her mother’s side, the logical and abstract thinking to make her arguments as a skilled lawyer. And of course, the mix of Venetian and Irish that can send her into a murderous frenzy if unjustly provoked.

Thank God for her blue eyes and blonde hair. They might help her stay out of jail in due course.

Oh, and I also had a call with the Ice Spartan today and she was up early so I asked her if she wanted to say hi, and she of course made us both melt:

AG: Hello [Jack], I am sorry I was so rude to you when you were here. But I really love you. And then she said bye to him.

All you sad women that don’t want to have children… the world will be SO much a better place when you have all disappeared and been digested, then shat out by your cats in due course.

The world will belong to us and our children, and eventually, we WILL reshape it into something good. And I pray the rivers of blood required to make it so is something I can do for them before I go on my own long trip. Because sure as shit, we’re not gonna leave pedovores in charge of anything. And no amount of money or robot armies will save them.