VT Vermont VT Veterans Today



Vermont is not a backwater for the dregs of the Liberal establishment to infest, nay it’s beauty comes from it’s local and tradition bound character. We as Vermonters do not fight for the Imperialist American ZOG hegemony, nay we fight for the rebirth of an independent Vermont Republic. We are a Nation under siege by the forces of Americanization.


Feds Approve Syrian Refugee Resettlement in Rutland


…The State Department has approved the resettlement of Syrian refugees in Rutland, according to the Vermont…

…A loose-knit group, called Rutland First, has questioned the secretive nature in which the USCRI developed the plan with Louras, Gov. Peter Shumlin and Vermont’s congressional delegation. They are also skeptical that Rutland would be able to provide the services and support that the Syrians need.

Source: Feds Approve Syrian Refugee Resettlement in Rutland

When Government and Corporate agencies think about the displacement of one people (in this case: Syrians) being transplanted into the culture of another people/land they are encouraging the betrayal of Syria to continue to be fought over rather than be built up by the Syrians themselves. Another aspect is described in this comment:


Vermont has a low birthrate with a small population while New Hampshire being far more urbanized has a much larger population, which means greater impact in Vermont.

Vermont, the land where what is made or grown in Vermont stays in Vermont. Yet liberals seek to alter the cycle of recycling by altering the course of the steam from its natural loop.

Localization, the Slow Foods Movement, being Green/Organic originates from Conservatism yet has been hijacked by modern democrat discourse to erode/dismantle presumed “oppression,” institutional or in private matters.

From Berkeley ’64 to PC Orthodoxy: Creating ‘Unsafe Spaces’ — Memory Hole

Tom Slater of Spiked UK joins James on this week’s Real Politik to discuss the war against free expression being waged on college campuses across the West by today’s self-appointed emissaries of political correctness. In stark contrast from the 1960s, when college students at UC Berkeley and elsewhere forged paths toward intellectual and personal autonomy…many faculty and students today seek to be shielded from virtually anything they deem threatening or hurtful.

via From Berkeley ’64 to PC Orthodoxy: Creating ‘Unsafe Spaces’ — Memory Hole


Vermont and Massachussets


Make Vermont Great Again!

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The comforts of civilization with it’s distractions from reality and happily enslaved herd mentality is not natural to Vermont. Cities are but overcrowded prisons carved out of Midgard like a wound in the Great Mother. We would rather return to nature than let civilization harm her.


Work hard in silence, let your success make the noise.


There is no place for crowds, wasteful technology, or other afflictions in Vermont. We gaze at starlit skies, whisper tales long gone around campfires, reenact history in the wilds of nature, respect personal space/privacy, and value those with quiet strength.


We as True Vermonters are committed to Our people (fellow Woodchucks), working individually and collectively to help Our people rise.

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What doesn’t continue to grow will die that much sooner. We require food, water, shelter, and territory. Where space is limited population changes very little or declines. Growth is natural and healthy.

Live Free as a Woodchuck in the Green Mountain State or Die a Flatlander!

Beauty and Desecration

Reblog from http://www.orthodoxytoday.org/articles-2009/Scruton-Beauty-And-Desecration.php


The West’s great landscape painters, like the eighteenth-century Italian Francesco Guardi, capture the intimations of the eternal in the transient.
At any time between 1750 and 1930, if you had asked an educated person to describe the goal of poetry, art, or music, “beauty” would have been the answer. And if you had asked what the point of that was, you would have learned that beauty is a value, as important in its way as truth and goodness, and indeed hardly distinguishable from them. Philosophers of the Enlightenment saw beauty as a way in which lasting moral and spiritual values acquire sensuous form. And no Romantic painter, musician, or writer would have denied that beauty was the final purpose of his art.
At some time during the aftermath of modernism, beauty ceased to receive those tributes. Art increasingly aimed to disturb, subvert, or transgress moral certainties, and it was not beauty but originality—however achieved and at whatever moral cost—that won the prizes. Indeed, there arose a widespread suspicion of beauty as next in line to kitsch—something too sweet and inoffensive for the serious modern artist to pursue. In a seminal essay—“Avant-Garde and Kitsch,” published in Partisan Review in 1939—critic Clement Greenberg starkly contrasted the avant-garde of his day with the figurative painting that competed with it, dismissing the latter (not just Norman Rockwell, but greats like Edward Hopper) as derivative and without lasting significance. The avant-garde, for Greenberg, promoted the disturbing and the provocative over the soothing and the decorative, and that was why we should admire it.
The value of abstract art, Greenberg claimed, lay not in beauty but in expression. This emphasis on expression was a legacy of the Romantic movement; but now it was joined by the conviction that the artist is outside bourgeois society, defined in opposition to it, so that artistic self-expression is at the same time a transgression of ordinary moral norms. We find this posture overtly adopted in the art of Austria and Germany between the wars—for example, in the paintings and drawings of Georg Grosz, in Alban Berg’s opera Lulu (a loving portrait of a woman whose only discernible goal is moral chaos), and in the seedy novels of Heinrich Mann. And the cult of transgression is a leading theme of the postwar literature of France—from the writings of Georges Bataille, Jean Genet, and Jean-Paul Sartre to the bleak emptiness of the nouveau roman.
Of course, there were great artists who tried to rescue beauty from the perceived disruption of modern society—as T. S. Eliot tried to recompose, in Four Quartets, the fragments he had grieved over in The Waste Land. And there were others, particularly in America, who refused to see the sordid and the transgressive as the truth of the modern world. For artists like Hopper, Samuel Barber, and Wallace Stevens, ostentatious transgression was mere sentimentality, a cheap way to stimulate an audience, and a betrayal of the sacred task of art, which is to magnify life as it is and to reveal its beauty—as Stevens reveals the beauty of “An Ordinary Evening in New Haven” and Barber that of Knoxville: Summer of 1915. But somehow those great life-affirmers lost their position at the forefront of modern culture. So far as the critics and the wider culture were concerned, the pursuit of beauty was at the margins of the artistic enterprise. Qualities like disruptiveness and immorality, which previously signified aesthetic failure, became marks of success; while the pursuit of beauty became a retreat from the real task of artistic creation. This process has been so normalized as to become a critical orthodoxy, prompting the philosopher Arthur Danto to argue recently that beauty is both deceptive as a goal and in some way antipathetic to the mission of modern art. Art has acquired another status and another social role.
The great proof of this change is in the productions of opera, which give the denizens of postmodern culture an unparalleled opportunity to take revenge on the art of the past and to hide its beauty behind an obscene and sordid mask. We all assume that this will happen with Wagner, who “asked for it” by believing too strongly in the redemptive role of art. But it now regularly happens to the innocent purveyors of beauty, just as soon as a postmodernist producer gets his hands on one of their works.
An example that particularly struck me was a 2004 production of Mozart’s Die Entführung aus dem Serail at the Komische Oper Berlin (see “The Abduction of Opera,” Summer 2007). Die Entführung tells the story of Konstanze—shipwrecked, separated from her fiancé Belmonte, and taken to serve in the harem of the Pasha Selim. After various intrigues, Belmonte rescues her, helped by the clemency of the Pasha—who, respecting Konstanze’s chastity and the couple’s faithful love, declines to take her by force. This implausible plot permits Mozart to express his Enlightenment conviction that charity is a universal virtue, as real in the Muslim empire of the Turks as in the Christian empire of the enlightened Joseph II. Even if Mozart’s innocent vision is without much historical basis, his belief in the reality of disinterested love is everywhere expressed and endorsed by the music. Die Entführung advances a moral idea, and its melodies share the beauty of that idea and persuasively present it to the listener.
In his production of Die Entführung, the Catalan stage director Calixto Bieito set the opera in a Berlin brothel, with Selim as pimp and Konstanze one of the prostitutes. Even during the most tender music, copulating couples littered the stage, and every opportunity for violence, with or without a sexual climax, was taken. At one point, a prostitute is gratuitously tortured, and her nipples bloodily and realistically severed before she is killed. The words and the music speak of love and compassion, but their message is drowned out by the scenes of desecration, murder, and narcissistic sex.
That is an example of something familiar in every aspect of our contemporary culture. It is not merely that artists, directors, musicians, and others connected with the arts are in flight from beauty. Wherever beauty lies in wait for us, there arises a desire to preempt its appeal, to smother it with scenes of destruction. Hence the many works of contemporary art that rely on shocks administered to our failing faith in human nature—such as the crucifix pickled in urine by Andres Serrano. Hence the scenes of cannibalism, dismemberment, and meaningless pain with which contemporary cinema abounds, with directors like Quentin Tarantino having little else in their emotional repertories. Hence the invasion of pop music by rap, whose words and rhythms speak of unremitting violence, and which rejects melody, harmony, and every other device that might make a bridge to the old world of song. And hence the music video, which has become an art form in itself and is often devoted to concentrating into the time span of a pop song some startling new account of moral chaos.
Those phenomena record a habit of desecration in which life is not celebrated by art but targeted by it. Artists can now make their reputations by constructing an original frame in which to display the human face and throw dung at it. What do we make of this, and how do we find our way back to the thing so many people long for, which is the vision of beauty? It may sound a little sentimental to speak of a “vision of beauty.” But what I mean is not some saccharine, Christmas-card image of human life but rather the elementary ways in which ideals and decencies enter our ordinary world and make themselves known, as love and charity make themselves known in Mozart’s music. There is a great hunger for beauty in our world, a hunger that our popular art fails to recognize and our serious art often defies.
I used the word “desecration” to describe the attitude conveyed by Bieito’s production of Die Entführung and by Serrano’s lame efforts at meaning something. What exactly does this word imply? It is connected, etymologically and semantically, with sacrilege, and therefore with the ideas of sanctity and the sacred. To desecrate is to spoil what might otherwise be set apart in the sphere of sacred things. We can desecrate a church, a graveyard, a tomb; and also a holy image, a holy book, or a holy ceremony. We can desecrate a corpse, a cherished image, even a living human being—insofar as these things contain (as they do) a portent of some original sanctity. The fear of desecration is a vital element in all religions. Indeed, that is what the word religio originally meant: a cult or ceremony designed to protect some sacred place from sacrilege.
In the eighteenth century, when organized religion and ceremonial kingship were losing their authority, when the democratic spirit was questioning inherited institutions, and when the idea was abroad that it was not God but man who made laws for the human world, the idea of the sacred suffered an eclipse. To the thinkers of the Enlightenment, it seemed little more than a superstition to believe that artifacts, buildings, places, and ceremonies could possess a sacred character, when all these things were the products of human design. The idea that the divine reveals itself in our world, and seeks our worship, seemed both implausible in itself and incompatible with science.
At the same time, philosophers like Shaftesbury, Burke, Adam Smith, and Kant recognized that we do not look on the world only with the eyes of science. Another attitude exists—one not of scientific inquiry but of disinterested contemplation—that we direct toward our world in search of its meaning. When we take this attitude, we set our interests aside; we are no longer occupied with the goals and projects that propel us through time; we are no longer engaged in explaining things or enhancing our power. We are letting the world present itself and taking comfort in its presentation. This is the origin of the experience of beauty. There may be no way of accounting for that experience as part of our ordinary search for power and knowledge. It may be impossible to assimilate it to the day-to-day uses of our faculties. But it is an experience that self-evidently exists, and it is of the greatest value to those who receive it.
When does this experience occur, and what does it mean? Here is an example: suppose you are walking home in the rain, your thoughts occupied with your work. The streets and the houses pass by unnoticed; the people, too, pass you by; nothing invades your thinking save your interests and anxieties. Then suddenly the sun emerges from the clouds, and a ray of sunlight alights on an old stone wall beside the road and trembles there. You glance up at the sky where the clouds are parting, and a bird bursts into song in a garden behind the wall. Your heart fills with joy, and your selfish thoughts are scattered. The world stands before you, and you are content simply to look at it and let it be.
Maybe such experiences are rarer now than they were in the eighteenth century, when the poets and philosophers lighted upon them as a new avenue to religion. The haste and disorder of modern life, the alienating forms of modern architecture, the noise and spoliation of modern industry—these things have made the pure encounter with beauty a rarer, more fragile, and more unpredictable thing for us. Still, we all know what it is to find ourselves suddenly transported, by the things we see, from the ordinary world of our appetites to the illuminated sphere of contemplation. It happens often during childhood, though it is seldom interpreted then. It happens during adolescence, when it lends itself to our erotic longings. And it happens in a subdued way in adult life, secretly shaping our life projects, holding out to us an image of harmony that we pursue through holidays, through home-building, and through our private dreams.
Here is another example: it is a special occasion, when the family unites for a ceremonial dinner. You set the table with a clean embroidered cloth, arranging plates, glasses, bread in a basket, and some carafes of water and wine. You do this lovingly, delighting in the appearance, striving for an effect of cleanliness, simplicity, symmetry, and warmth. The table has become a symbol of homecoming, of the extended arms of the universal mother, inviting her children in. And all this abundance of meaning and good cheer is somehow contained in the appearance of the table. This, too, is an experience of beauty, one that we encounter, in some version or other, every day. We are needy creatures, and our greatest need is for home—the place where we are, where we find protection and love. We achieve this home through representations of our own belonging, not alone but in conjunction with others. All our attempts to make our surroundings look right—through decorating, arranging, creating—are attempts to extend a welcome to ourselves and to those whom we love.
This second example suggests that our human need for beauty is not simply a redundant addition to the list of human appetites. It is not something that we could lack and still be fulfilled as people. It is a need arising from our metaphysical condition as free individuals, seeking our place in an objective world. We can wander through this world, alienated, resentful, full of suspicion and distrust. Or we can find our home here, coming to rest in harmony with others and with ourselves. The experience of beauty guides us along this second path: it tells us that we are at home in the world, that the world is already ordered in our perceptions as a place fit for the lives of beings like us.
Look at any picture by one of the great landscape painters—Poussin, Guardi, Turner, Corot, Cézanne—and you will see that idea of beauty celebrated and fixed in images. The art of landscape painting, as it arose in the seventeenth century and endured into our time, is devoted to moralizing nature and showing the place of human freedom in the scheme of things. It is not that landscape painters turn a blind eye to suffering, or to the vastness and threateningness of the universe of which we occupy so small a corner. Far from it. Landscape painters show us death and decay in the very heart of things: the light on their hills is a fading light; the stucco walls of Guardi’s houses are patched and crumbling. But their images point to the joy that lies incipient in decay and to the eternal implied in the transient. They are images of home.
Not surprisingly, the idea of beauty has puzzled philosophers. The experience of beauty is so vivid, so immediate, so personal, that it seems hardly to belong to the natural order as science observes it. Yet beauty shines on us from ordinary things. Is it a feature of the world, or a figment of the imagination? Is it telling us something real and true that requires just this experience to be recognized? Or is it merely a heightened moment of sensation, of no significance beyond the delight of the person who experiences it? These questions are of great urgency for us, since we live at a time when beauty is in eclipse: a dark shadow of mockery and alienation has crept across the once-shining surface of our world, like the shadow of the Earth across the moon. Where we look for beauty, we too often find darkness and desecration.


The current habit of desecrating beauty suggests that people are as aware as they ever were of the presence of sacred things. Desecration is a kind of defense against the sacred, an attempt to destroy its claims. In the presence of sacred things, our lives are judged, and to escape that judgment, we destroy the thing that seems to accuse us.
Christians have inherited from Saint Augustine and from Plato the vision of this transient world as an icon of another and changeless order. They understand the sacred as a revelation in the here and now of the eternal sense of our being. But the experience of the sacred is not confined to Christians. It is, according to many philosophers and anthropologists, a human universal. For the most part, transitory purposes organize our lives: the day-to-day concerns of economic reasoning, the small-scale pursuit of power and comfort, the need for leisure and pleasure. Little of this is memorable or moving to us. Every now and then, however, we are jolted out of our complacency and feel ourselves to be in the presence of something vastly more significant than our present interests and desires. We sense the reality of something precious and mysterious, which reaches out to us with a claim that is, in some way, not of this world. This happens in the presence of death, especially the death of someone loved. We look with awe on the human body from which the life has fled. This is no longer a person but the “mortal remains” of a person. And this thought fills us with a sense of the uncanny. We are reluctant to touch the dead body; we see it as, in some way, not properly a part of our world, almost a visitor from some other sphere.
This experience, a paradigm of our encounter with the sacred, demands from us a kind of ceremonial recognition. The dead body is the object of rituals and acts of purification, designed not just to send its former occupant happily into the hereafter—for these practices are engaged in even by those who have no belief in the hereafter—but in order to overcome the eeriness, the supernatural quality, of the dead human form. The body is being reclaimed for this world by the rituals that acknowledge that it also stands apart from it. The rituals, to put it another way, consecrate the body, and so purify it of its miasma. By the same token, the body can be desecrated—and this is surely one of the primary acts of desecration, one to which people have been given from time immemorial, as when Achilles dragged Hector’s body in triumph around the walls of Troy.
The presence of a transcendental claim startles us out of our day-to-day preoccupations on other occasions, too. In particular, there is the experience of falling in love. This, too, is a human universal, and it is an experience of the strangest kind. The face and body of the beloved are imbued with the intensest life. But in one crucial respect, they are like the body of someone dead: they seem not to belong in the empirical world. The beloved looks on the lover as Beatrice looked on Dante, from a point outside the flow of temporal things. The beloved object demands that we cherish it, that we approach it with almost ritualistic reverence. And there radiates from those eyes and limbs and words a kind of fullness of spirit that makes everything anew.
Poets have expended thousands of words on this experience, which no words seem entirely to capture. It has fueled the sense of the sacred down the ages, reminding people as diverse as Plato and Calvino, Virgil and Baudelaire, that sexual desire is not the simple appetite that we witness in animals but the raw material of a longing that has no easy or worldly satisfaction, demanding of us nothing less than a change of life.
Many of the uglinesses cultivated in our world today refer back to the two experiences that I have singled out. The body in the throes of death; the body in the throes of sex—these things easily fascinate us. They fascinate us by desecrating the human form, by showing the human body as a mere object among objects, the human spirit as eclipsed and ineffectual, and the human being as overcome by external forces, rather than as a free subject bound by the moral law. And it is on these things that the art of our time seems to concentrate, offering us not only sexual pornography but a pornography of violence that reduces the human being to a lump of suffering flesh made pitiful, helpless, and disgusting.
All of us have a desire to flee from the demands of responsible existence, in which we treat one another as worthy of reverence and respect. All of us are tempted by the idea of flesh and by the desire to remake the human being as pure flesh—an automaton, obedient to mechanical desires. To yield to this temptation, however, we must first remove the chief obstacle to it: the consecrated nature of the human form. We must sully the experiences—such as death and sex—that otherwise call us away from temptations, toward the higher life of sacrifice. This willful desecration is also a denial of love—an attempt to remake the world as though love were no longer a part of it. And that, surely, is the most important characteristic of the postmodern culture: it is a loveless culture, determined to portray the human world as unlovable. The modern stage director who ransacks the works of Mozart is trying to tear the love from the heart of them, so as to confirm his own vision of the world as a place where only pleasure and pain are real.
That suggests a simple remedy, which is to resist temptation. Instead of desecrating the human form, we should learn again to revere it. For there is absolutely nothing to gain from the insults hurled at beauty by those—like Calixto Bieito—who cannot bear to look it in the face. Yes, we can neutralize the high ideals of Mozart by pushing his music into the background so that it becomes the mere accompaniment to an inhuman carnival of sex and death. But what do we learn from this? What do we gain, in terms of emotional, spiritual, intellectual, or moral development? Nothing, save anxiety. We should take a lesson from this kind of desecration: in attempting to show us that our human ideals are worthless, it shows itself to be worthless. And when something shows itself to be worthless, it is time to throw it away.
It is therefore plain that the culture of transgression achieves nothing save the loss that it revels in: the loss of beauty as a value and a goal. But why is beauty a value? It is an ancient view that truth, goodness, and beauty cannot, in the end, conflict. Maybe the degeneration of beauty into kitsch comes precisely from the postmodern loss of truthfulness, and with it the loss of moral direction. That is the message of such early modernists as Eliot, Barber, and Stevens, and it is a message that we need to listen to.
To mount a full riposte to the habit of desecration, we need to rediscover the affirmation and the truth to life without which artistic beauty cannot be realized. This is no easy task. If we look at the true apostles of beauty in our time—I think of composers like Henri Dutilleux and Olivier Messiaen, of poets like Derek Walcott and Charles Tomlinson, of prose writers like Italo Calvino and Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn—we are immediately struck by the immense hard work, the studious isolation, and the attention to detail that characterizes their craft. In art, beauty has to be won, but the work becomes harder as the sheer noise of desecration—amplified now by the Internet—drowns out the quiet voices murmuring in the heart of things.
One response is to look for beauty in its other and more everyday forms—the beauty of settled streets and cheerful faces, of natural objects and genial landscapes. It is possible to throw dirt on these things, too, and it is the mark of a second-rate artist to take such a path to our attention—the via negativa of desecration. But it is also possible to return to ordinary things in the spirit of Wallace Stevens and Samuel Barber—to show that we are at home with them and that they magnify and vindicate our life. Such is the overgrown path that the early modernists once cleared for us—the via positiva of beauty. There is no reason yet to think that we must abandon it.


The Zionist Occupation of Vermont will End


Out of the Ashes of degenerate tolerance of gender confusion, genetic pollution, pathological altruism, immorality deemed liberation, and all the rest of the crap which infects Vermont (especially in College & the Radio)….It will all end.



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The True Flag of the Vermont Republic


An Alternative for the Vermont Republic


Nature in her beauty is quiet like a windswept landscape in late Autumn, solitary (each family lives in their own niche just as animals live in their own ecological niches), idealistic (the hopes, dreams, aspirations come from the rural rather than the global swarm herd who require “rights” or “freedoms”…The greater the freedom the less focus, misdirection, and debilitation of work along with nature in her locality)….

Interchangeable cogs in the global machine is what the Bankers, Hollywood, etc. want people to become. Equality is a scam to mislead idealists and turn them along with “humanity” into numbers to be utilized at whim (resources to be exploited). Mass Immigration is to dilute and destroy local unique dialects and cultures just as urbanization severs the extended family (grandparents, parents, children, cousins, aunts, uncles).

There is a light to follow if only folks would know its within themselves. You are the fire of your ancestors, in meditation you can receive advice on the paths you take.


Burlington, Vermont


Burlington is the center of the Vermont Refugee Resettlement Program

Last month on Oct 23, 2015

A Ronald McDonald statue that sat outside a Ronald McDonald House in Vermont was decapitated.

The statue had occupied a bench outside the Burlington home for years, welcoming sick children and families who need to be close to the University of Vermont’s Children Hospital.

First off, why was MickeyDees held up to represent charity to the sick? WTF!?

Second, MickeyDees represents all the problems of the modern world such as GMO’s, corporate exploitation of resources, wage slaves (cheap migrant labor), advertising, and emotional manipulation.

MickeyDees represents corporate America, NOT agrarian Vermont.

A statue of a farmer or doctor would of been best for Vermont.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Monsanto has its own charity organizations to feed the world genetically poisoned food yet advertises on how healthy it is.

Occupied Vermont

Before Vermont became an independent republic in 1777, its land was claimed by both New York and New Hampshire.


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The Province of New York claimed Vermont based on land granted to the Duke of York (later King James II & VII) in 1664. The Province of New Hampshire, whose western limits had never been determined, also claimed Vermont.

On July 20, 1764, King George III established the boundary between New Hampshire and New York along the west bank of the Connecticut River, north of Massachusetts, and south of 45 degrees north latitude. Under this decree, Albany County, New York, as it then existed, implicitly gained the land presently known as Vermont.


This line became the boundary between New York and New Hampshire, and is the modern Vermont and New Hampshire boundary.

In 1770, Ethan Allen—along with his brothers Ira and Levi, as well as Seth Warner—recruited an informal militia, the Green Mountain Boys, to protect the interests of the original New Hampshire settlers against the new migrants from New York. A significant standoff occurred at the Breakenridge farm in Bennington, when a sheriff from Albany arrived with a posse of 750 men to dispossess Breakenridge. The residents raised a body of about 300 armed men to resist. The Albany sheriff demanded Breakenridge, and was informed, “If you attempt it, you are a dead man.” The sheriff returned to Albany.

When a New York judge arrived in Westminster with New York settlers in March 1775, violence broke out as angry citizens took over the courthouse and called a sheriff’s posse. This resulted in the deaths of Daniel Houghton and William French in the “Westminster Massacre“.

In the summer of 1776, the first general convention of freemen of the New Hampshire Grants met in Dorset, Occupied Vermont, resolving “to take suitable measures to declare the New Hampshire Grants a free and independent district.”

On January 15, 1777, representatives of the New Hampshire Grants convened in Westminster and declared their land an independent republic. For the first six months of the republic’s existence, the state was called New Connecticut.

On June 2, a second convention of 72 delegates met at Westminster, known as the “Westminster Convention”. At this meeting, the delegates adopted the name “Vermont” on the suggestion of Dr. Thomas Young of Philadelphia, a supporter of the delegates who wrote a letter advising them on how to achieve statehood. The delegates set the time for a meeting one month later. On July 4, the Constitution of Vermont was drafted during a violent thunderstorm at the Windsor Tavern owned by Elijah West. It was adopted by the delegates on July 8 after four days of debate. This was the first written constitution in North America to provide for the abolition of slavery, suffrage for men who did not own land, and public schools. The tavern has been preserved as the Old Constitution House, administered as a state historic site.

When New York refused to recognize land titles through the New Hampshire Grants (towns created earlier by New Hampshire in present Vermont), dissatisfied colonists organized in opposition, which led to the creation of an independent Vermont on January 15, 1777.


The Republic of Vermont has been occupied since 1791 when Vermont lost its right to self-determination and was consumed by the American States.

Deep in the most rural corners of Vermont exist pockets of resistance which seek to regain the glory that was the Vermont Republic. We are quiet, elusive, healthy, frugal, strict, and supportive toward fellow Vermont Patriots.


As a community based state, Vermont is one of many obstacles to global exploitation. Vermont as a state can be easily exploited by much stronger states like New York, Quebec, Washington DC, and California. The fact that Vermont has shunned advertising, billboards, GMO’s and large scale corporations has made Vermont a state of resistance in a world of American imperialism.

The True Territory of Vermont

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If the freedom fighters in Vermont are successful. Imagine what your life could be like. No I.R.S. to steal the fruits of your labor, no D.E.A. to tell you what you can or can’t grow, no A.T.F. to prevent you from defending yourself, no D.H.S. spying on your phone calls and Email – the list is endless. If you don’t feel suffocated by the presence of the US governments daily intrusions into you life, there is something wrong with you. Imagine…A Free Vermont.


University of Vermont holds 3-day psychiatric evaluation for white students

The Washingstein Times published an article about the University of Vermont and how it is promoting the Narrative of Evil Whitey (Whites are Privileged and must pay their dues to the world).


Vermont is known as the one of the Whitest States, yet most Liberal in the United States.

The Liberal narrative spread like a virus due to

#1 The mostly Rural nature of Vermont, which represents Purity, something which Liberalism hates.

#2 The mass influx of Hippies to Vermont (most of whom were White) during the 1960’s and 1970’s. Along with City-Slickers/Flatlanders destroying Vermont and making it into a Tourist center.

#3 The mostly White European ancestry of most Vermonters, which is  equated with Privilege and Racism.

When camps talk about inclusion they are talking about the erosion and destruction of identity, be it culinary, dialect, clothing style, appearance, or architecture — it must all be Liberalized (eroded and globalized or destroyed) otherwise it is wrong in some way.

College campuses and Liberal establishments see the erosion of privacy and personal space as progressive, the legs of communities must be open whether male or female and willingly give up their life to outlanders.

Tightly knit tribal communities bound by blood, appearance, dress, dialect, architecture, and a clearly defined territory is natural. Every creature has their niche of the ecosystem, Liberalism seeks to undermine our natural desire to find our home with our people.

The Freedom of Choice is as fundamental to America as the Freedom of Speech and the Right to Bear Arms. When you prevent people from interacting with their own people, you cut them off from their cultural roots and make them malleable to be molded by the Global Hive Mind (Hollywood, International Banks and Corporations, and Industrial Agriculture like Monsanto), which prevents individuality and self-expression.

“Privilege and Systems of Oppression” — In every society there are those who Lead and those who Follow. Hierarchy is a natural state of affair not just in human tribes, communities, and nations, but in the earths ecosystem.

Social Justice is a moral imperative for those who overlook the mind and focus on feelings. Social Justice overlooks the fact that people are different, hierarchy is natural, procreation/gender roles are natural, and Personal Space (along with Privacy, Quiet, and Insight) maintain cultural and genetic identity.

When you hear students confess to the Priests of Education on how their class has changed them you hear someone who lacks individual expression and skepticism.


Burlington Vermont is a dumping ground for Refugees. Charity is at the front of ecological imbalance in the food chain, which overlooks the value of quiet solitude among your family, and would rather replace brothers and sisters with…invaders. Who will live in our towns, cities, mate with our women and men, and erode both our external identity (appearance, dress, dialect) and our internal identity (values) until we cease to exist as distinct Vermonters of New England Yankee stock.

Yet despite Vermont’s Gullible Christian do-good beliefs, there is the idea of recycling which goes beyond the corporate A’Murkan Ideology. This means recycling goods and services within Vermont to help the local economy and local people. It is frowned upon if you have not lived at least 5-7 generations on Vermont soil. A Local Currency is more of an idea than a reality but like Hydro and Solar Off the Grid Power, it is fundamental to the independent and rural nature of Vermont.



Boston is Our Cultural Ally


Boston Capitol Building surrounded by Skyskrapers

Massachusetts State Capitol Building surrounded by Skyscrapers


–The Boston Redsocks

Boston was founded on the Shawmut Peninsula in 1630 by Puritan settlers from England. It was the scene of several key events of the American Revolution, such as the Boston Massacre, the Boston Tea Party, the Battle of Bunker Hill, and the Siege of Boston. Upon American independence from Great Britain, the city continued to be an important port and manufacturing hub, as well as a center for education and culture. The area’s many colleges and universities make Boston an international center of higher education and medicine.


–A True Bostonian and American Patriot

Vermont and Massachusetts have a common historical link in quiet and disciplined rural puritan living and a revolutionary code of self-determination.

Vermont and Massachusetts

Vermont and Massachussets

Vermont and Massachussets


The Boston Globe, a newspaper based in Boston, Massachusetts. Founded in 1872 by Charles H. Taylor, was privately held until 1973, when it went public as Affiliated Publications. The company was acquired in 1993 by The Corrupt New York Times Company; two years later Boston.com was established as the newspaper’s online edition. In 2011, a BostonGlobe.com subscription site was launched. In 2013, the newspaper and websites were purchased by John W. Henry, a New England businessman whose other holdings include the Boston Red Sox and Liverpool Football Club.

Jew York


New York heavily taxes its citizens,  underfunds its police force where it needs it the most, bribes sport players to become a New York Yankee player, and disregards the heritage of those who made America from the ground up. NYC is the financial capitol of America spreading its tentacles across the globe in the name of “Free Trade” and “Democracy” — The reality is exploitation of resources to benefit the super rich in Wall Street and Hollywood.

One World Government Elite

–Babylon New York Swine

The money masters of New York raise and lower inflation as they see fit to hoard wealth to themselves and their shadowy cabal.


Statue of Liberty with NY skyline