I had a somewhat antagonistic discussion with my son when he was home from college this Christmas. I was trying to tell him about the need to be aware of Jewish influence on his life. We were arguing, not so much about the Jews per se, as about whether my ideas had done me any good. We were debating about whether anyone is actually influenced by song lyrics, when Billy Joel’s “Only the Good Die Young ” came on the radio. I quieted down. It couldn’t have been a better example of what I wanted to convey to him.
When it was over, I turned to him and asked what he thought the song was about.
“I don’t know.”
“Come on,” I said. “Virginia? You Catholic girls start much too late? I might as well be the one?”
Then it hit me. I had liked this song when I was young, but eventually came to dislike Billy Joel as being shallow even for pop music. Then, for the last fifteen years, I have grown increasingly skeptical about Jews, leading to the life-encompassing conversion well-known to many White Nationalists. But it had never occurred to me until then that, given the message of the song, Billy Joel must be a Jew.
I turned to my son. “Remember how I told you a theory is true exactly to the extent that you are able to make accurate predictions from it?”
“I guess so.”
“Yeah, in the end, that’s what science is built on. Well, I’ve just realized something. I have no idea why it never hit me before, except that I don’t hear this song that much, Billy Joel never did matter to me much, and he matters a whole lot less to me the older I get. Still, after more than thirty years of occasionally hearing this song and the little story contained in its lyrics, I can make a non-obvious prediction, based 100% on the fact that this song is the soft equivalent of a Jewish porn merchant depicting an actress with a golden cross hanging from her neck: Billy Joel is a Jew!”
I got on Wikipedia, and there was the evidence. My son was duly impressed; not greatly, to be sure, but not negligibly either: there are now three generations of scientists in our family, and my son too knows that even such minor predictions as this one are not so obvious as they seem to the credulous, after they are proved.
I explained to him that this ought to matter all the more to him, because his young cousins on his mother’s side are part of the Catholic renaissance that swept east-central Europe after the fall of Communism, and that this is the very region that has also been such a gold mine for the pornography industry. I explained that Prague had become a major new center for that Jew-dominated industry, and that this overflows in important ways even into the political world. I explained, for example, that it is otherwise hard to understand why the Czechs, with their tiny native Jewish population and low imposed burden of World War guilt, were the only country in all Europe, and one of only four significant countries in the whole world, to back Israel in the November 2012 vote in the United Nations on a resolution strengthening the status of Palestine (mainly, the other two were Canada and the USA, both bastions of Jewish power; they were joined by Panama, plus a handful of other, very minor, puppet states).
Meanwhile, I was becoming interested in some of the details of Joel’s biography . I’m snobbish, and my biography surfing on the internet generally runs much more to Aryans like Evelyn Waugh, Aldous Huxley, Diana Mosley, and a thousand others, and Jews like Marcel Proust and even Peter Sellers, than it does to the likes of Billy Joel: still, I was intrigued.
There was his depression and alcoholism. There was his suicide gesture, drinking furniture polish, at age 21. There was his marriage to Aryan supermodel Christie Brinkley, and subsequent divorce.
I’ll try to avoid undue speculation about Billy Joel’s suicide gesture, but I should note a few items. One is that the artistic role of musician/poet is the traditional best alternative to the physically dangerous and demanding role of athlete/warrior as the prime way to attract beautiful women, and for reasons that could profitably be explored elsewhere, it appears to work as well or better. To his slight credit, Billy Joel may well be a smidgeon too empathetic to play this role for all it’s worth. For instance, his suicide gesture came at a time when his rock duo with Jon Small, Attila, was breaking up over Joel’s affair with Small’s wife Elizabeth, but Joel went on to marry Elizabeth three years later.
Therefore, it seems Joel was neither an ultimate loser, the sort of victim who disappears from the stage of life with little trace, nor a merciless winner, the kind who would get the girl, then discard her. It seems more likely that he was like most of us, someone who muddles through. For it is certain that, rather than do the cruelly logical thing and abandon a man with so little self-worth that he contemplates suicide, and so little resolve that it leads to a mere gesture rather than a serious attempt, Elizabeth Small married him instead. And it’s just as certain she divorced him nine years later, without feeling he was worth producing a child for.
One other thing: we should remember that this was the ’70s after all, a destructive era when everyone with eyes could see that the absurd promises of the sixties would never pan out, but the various thick-skinned or culturally acceptable defenses against having to admit this outright, those that would appear in the ’80s, still lay in the future.
Billy Joel did eventually have one child, however. Alexa Ray Joel may well be the tribute to the intensity and fertility a woman in love can feel on her wedding night, for she was born to Christie Brinkley almost nine months to the day from her marriage to Billy Joel. They too divorced after nine years.
My initial read on his serial marriages was simply that he had succeeded in what all alpha males and alpha wannabes desire, which is to wed a series of attractive women. Moreover, like those classic Jewish men who are both wannabe alphas and wannabe Aryans, exactly like Peter Sellers for instance, in Brinkley he’d aimed for the highest that Aryan beauty can offer, and “got” it. There was nothing I could condemn in that; if many of our most beautiful women are falling for Jews, then it is up to us to improve ourselves and white society, not to envy Jews.
But his depression, suicide gesture, and alcoholism nagged me. Clearly, he was almost exactly like Peter Sellers had been; Sellers  who wanted in Sophia Loren what he couldn’t have and didn’t deserve, and attained in Britt Ekland, what he didn’t deserve and couldn’t keep. Clearly Billy Joel had big issues with self-destruction and thus, self-loathing, and just as clearly, that continued; I note that he was treated for alcoholism at a Betty Ford Center in 2005. But Joel seemed to have human flaws, and flaws are potentially redeeming if they arouse a thirst to recognize, understand and ameliorate them (oh, so hard).
Well, two months ago, all that was enough to satisfy my temporary interest in Billy Joel, an interest sparked by the sudden realization that the author of “Only the Good Die Young” could only be a Jew.
Then yesterday another bit of pop culture snuck in under the faux-Kentucky fence of my snobbery. When Yahoo!, my main email host, went downscale and tabloid a few years ago in their search for a market niche, I grumbled. But now I acknowledge the usefulness of occasional exposure to trashiness. For instance, there on the Yahoo page for February 15th was a link to a piece  purporting that Alexa Joel recently had cosmetic surgery involving breasts and nose. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the article was all about “did she or didn’t she,” and Brinkley’s defense of her daughter’s “natural beauty,” but the before and after photos made it quite clear that at some point, Alexa’s schnozz has been cut from a distinctly Jewish profile to a distinctly Aryan one, though it may well date back to her undebated 2010 rhinoplasty . (I have little to write about her breasts, except to note that for a long time, à la Zappa’s “brazen little Jewish princess ” it was the Semite and not the willowy Aryan beauty, that was better endowed in that regard, and the fact that our age encourages an Alexa to “have it all” helps confirm to me that, like her father and Peter Sellers, she will not truly possess any of it.)
There has long been a lot of hand-wringing  over diversity and the “white imperative” in modeling (the tendency for non-white models to look, at most, like light cocoa or pale yellow whites) but such considerations seldom extend publicly to Jews. Presumably, if too much attention was paid to the fact that even “successful whites” (here, I mean Jews) want to look Aryan, then more people might realize explicitly what is so strongly implied by all this flattering imitation: whites really are held to be more beautiful, and the more like the Aryan ideal a woman is, the more beautiful.
Well, there it is. Much of what we are is in our DNA, and neither surgery, nor surging to sponsored commercial success through the composition of anti-Catholic songs, nor a supermodel wife, nor the Betty Ford Center, can change that. With every step they take in life, Billy Joel confirms that he is a Jew dissatisfied in his own skin, and Christie Brinkley that she is not fulfilled as a woman and mother. If she had really wanted daughters who could be Aryan beauties or sons capable of becoming Aryan warriors, then she should have had the womanly instinct to seek out a suitable father for them and not a Jewish wannabe like Billy Joel; at the very least the way Gisele Bündchen chose a man from a more Aryan sector of the entertainment industry, quarterback Tom Brady. Better yet would be a man capable of transcending that shallowness altogether, a man like Pat Tillman, immensely tragic though he was. Ironically, such men are much more likely to hale from the small-town America where Brinkley herself grew up than from the showbiz of Jewish New York.
But rather than accept nature and lie in the bed she made, Brinkley is basically acting like an upscale version of those moms, obese to a woman, who live vicariously through their daughters at kiddie pageants: ‘if I don’t fit public perception of the beautiful, then command the public to change, through the vehicle of my adorable daughter.’ In this, Brinkley ends up in a similar position to Mao-bag, Friedanesque feminism: ‘broaden what’s beautiful to include everyone’ (that or do away with the ‘concept’ of beauty altogether, so long as we’re all equal).
It’s always sad to see this dissatisfaction, this failure to know ourselves, to understand what we are and to live naturally in that knowledge, passing on to a younger, naïve generation, to Alexa Ray Joel, for example. But in our current age of scalpels, pills and therapists, one should hardly expect a bettering trend over time. In fact, one can really only expect worsening. And a major reason is that the scalpel, the prescription and the talk represent, to a large extent, the unnatural order of the Jew. They are not a race selectively adapted to a piece of territory, to a part of nature and the communion in natural beauty we have thus derived; rather, they are adapted to taking advantage of the empathy of another race, adapted to a piece of psychological territory. We have the misfortune to be that other race.