In a satirical blog  about pop culture, I recently presented two sets of photographs: one of ageing mainstream musicians, whom I described as the past, and another of young underground musicians, whom I described as the future. Using a standard tabloid technique, I mischievously chose unflattering images for the first set of musicians, and proceeded to dismiss the latter as a freak show as well as a negative cultural influence. Unfortunately, some interpreted this (rather superficially) as simply a derogation of Elton John, Michael Jackson, Madonna, Bono, and Bob Geldof's looks and musical talent, ignoring the fact that the title of the blog referred explicitly to culture, and the blog itself made no mention of music.

My original aim had been to do a series, where I juxtaposed representatives of the egalitarian against representatives of the inegalitarian camp, taken from the fields of philosophy, politics, journalism, art, literature, psychology, anthropology, and more, always accompanied by a few satirical comments at the enemy's expense. There is no doubt that there was an element of playground malice in this exercise. Yet, the latter had a serious purpose: the enemy routinely engages in self-serving, derogatory, and cartoonish misrepresentations of the intellectuals, artists, and scientists whom they do not like, whom they would like to keep beyond the pale, and whom they would like the apolitical and the miseducated to avoid and dismiss in advance. The message I wanted to convey was that we know how to do it too, and are quite prepared to give them a taste of their own medicine (in fact, in December last year I wrote an article  for The Occidental Observer where I did some post-imperial deconstructing, in response to the White-bashing discourse that permeates the field of postcolonial studies). I think this is important because one of the reasons European descended peoples have come to find themselves in retreat, on the losing side of every significant battle in the cultural war for the better part of a century now, is that the Left has not been met with an effective response - in fact, even so-called "conservatives", who were supposed to have been on the side of European man, have proven - at best - craven, weak, flaccid, myopic, selfishly motivated, and far too willing to compromise, pull back, surrender, and apologise in order to avoid trouble.

If you are ever inclined to indulge certain masochistic tendencies, forget the dangerous new fads enjoyed only at the cost of life and limb; just head on over to National Review.

The premier magazine of the conservative movement provides a sure means of inciting incredulity and aggravation even in those of the most pacific temperament.  Looking for a heaping dose of jingoism for Washington's postmodern empire? Victor Davis Hanson has it covered. Michael Novak, the neocons' house theologian, is always available to justify the finer points of aggressive war for democratic capitalism. How about painful attempts at keeping relevant with septic pop culture? Well, hey, they've got  that, too! This assortment of conservative wisdom might even serve as a source of morbid entertainment, causing readers to laugh in despair for the country and our beloved West.

This is the first installment of what will be, I hope, a regular report from the Old Continent to her sons and daughters whose ancestors, for reasons of religion, politics, enterprise or expediency, departed from the westernmost end of the Eurasian landmass to hazard their luck in uncharted territories on the far side of turbulent waters.

It will be a kind of letter from the stay-at-homes to the descendants of adventurers - although I hope that many stay-at-homes will read it too.