Community activists of Nationalist 13 (T.me/Nationalist13) and members of Toronto Fitness Club (T.me/TorontoAthletics) came together for a demonstration at city hall in Hamilton, Ontario.

Chants of "MASS DEPORTATIONS NOW!" "FOLK-FAMILY-FUTURE!" and "REMIGRATION SAVES OUR NATION!" were heard at city hall for the first time in the history of the city of Hamilton.

Our message is always for our Folk, never our detractors. Join us if you're a European Canadian man interested in Folk-Family-Future.

NS13: NS13_88@protonmail.com

TFC: TFCPathfinders@proton.me

When you look in the mirror you see not just your face but a museum. Although your face, in one sense, is your own, it is composed of a collage of features you have inherited from your parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and so on. The lips and eyes that either bother or please you are not yours alone but are also features of your ancestors, long dead perhaps as individuals but still very much alive as fragments in you. Even complex qualities such as your sense of balance, musical abilities, shyness in crowds, or susceptibility to sickness have been lived before. We carry the past around with us all the time, and not just in our bodies. It lives also in our customs, including the way we speak. The past is a set of invisible lenses we wear constantly, and through these we perceive the world and the world perceives us. We stand always on the shoulders of our ancestors, whether or not we look down to acknowledge them.

— David W. Anthony, The Horse, The Wheel and Language.

Your forefathers fought, bled, and died for the very life force that you hold onto. But even more, they fought for simplicity. For a life amongst their kin, their kith. To live where the lapping shores of the Atlantic would help their babes drift to sleep.
Or to live in the wooded forests listening to the soft rustling of wind whispering through their ever green branches.
To hold their lover in their arms while warm sun beams fractaling through a forests canopy shimmer on a bubbling brook, catching highlights of the darting trout within its rushing waters.

We protect many things, our blood, our folk, our birth rights, but what more, do not let go of the fight for simplicity. For it is in the simplicity that we find our minds free to roam, to conjure ideas and advancements. To help build a future worth living in.

“Today we live so cowed under the bombardment of this intellectual artillery (corporate mass media) that hardly anyone can attain to the inward detachment that is required for a clear view of the monstrous drama. The will-to-power operating under a pure democratic disguise has finished off its masterpiece so well that the object's sense of freedom is actually flattered by the most thorough-going enslavement that has ever existed."

~Oswald Spengler

"The perfect dictatorship would have the appearance of a democracy, but would basically be a prison without walls in which the prisoners would not even dream of escaping. It would essentially be a system of slavery where, through consumption and entertainment, the slaves would love their servitudes."

~Aldous Huxley

“The condition of human nature is just this; man towers above the rest of creation so long as he realizes his own nature, and when he forgets it, he sinks lower than the beasts. For other living things to be ignorant of themselves, is natural; but for man it is a defect.”

~Boethius

A Heart in the Maritimes

In distant lands, our hearts do roam,
But always long for our Maritime home.
Where waves kiss shores with a tender grace,
And memories of home, no time can erase.

The salty breeze, the ocean's song,
In our hearts, they still belong.
Though we wander far and wide,
The Maritimes remain our guide.

We carry the love, deep and true,
In every little thing we do.
Homesick hearts, though far we stray,
In the Maritimes, our souls will stay.

This poem is a heartfelt reminder that no matter how far we go, a piece of our heart will always be in the Maritimes.

Beneath the northern skies, fierce and untamed,
Where ocean’s roar commands the rugged shore,
Atlantic blood runs wild, free, unchained,
A Folk unmatched in spirit, heart, and lore.
From Nova Scotia’s ancient stone,
To Newfoundland’s proud, unyielding flame,
New Brunswick’s forests, where the brave have grown,
And Prince Edward’s fields that bear our name.
Our blood is forged in lightning and strife,
A lineage of strength no storm can break,
We rise as one, unshaken, standing still,
The fiercest Folk the Atlantic can make.
In every crashing wave, our power swells,
In every voice, a legacy supreme,
We hold the land where true greatness dwells—
Atlantic blood, the might of every dream.
Our Folk, our force, our home, forever reign—
Superior hearts that none can chain.

“To hear these defenders of democracy talk, one would think that the people deliberate like a committee of wise men, whereas in truth judicial murders, foolhardy undertakings, wild choices, and foolish and disastrous wars are eminently the prerogatives of this form of government”

Joseph de Maistre, 1st April 1753 - 26th February 1821