(This post was last modified: 01-09-2017 08:27 AM by easternwomenrule.)

My father is discreetly red-pilled in political matters, but it is something that he only shows occasionally; he is, perhaps intelligently on his behalf, loath to express political opinions publicly, although he was quite vitriolic during the Salou clashes and had the misfortune of encountering ‘new arrivals’ on a trip to Austria, which was certain to produce an impression. He was also greatly disturbed to see Conchita Wurst winning Eurovision; even if he is not overly critical of homosexuals, I lost count of the times I heard the word aberración, for which I thank him as it alerted me to put up my guard for that which appears to be gaining societal acceptance. On the subject of women, though, I cannot say; he did end up divorcing my mother, but he hasn’t been unjustly deprived of his assets.

My paternal grandfather is rather based, but he is of the old guard; men like him are now very rare in Spain. His father, whom I would have liked to meet, was a good Basque Carlist or, as the left will say, a Spanish (ergo, Catholic) mujahid. He does not belong to the admittedly moribund cause of his father’s youth, or even retain his fervent Catholicism, but there is in him a pronounced disdain for the left, the eunuchised right, and nationalists (separatists). Despite this, I cannot say he has been a great influence on my life. Living outside of Spain, I only see him once or twice per year, and we have never maintained a relationship that I would describe as special.

I cannot in good conscience post this without mentioning someone who is neither my father nor one of my grandfathers: my maternal grandmother. The best advice on women I have received was from her, not my parents; I can confidently say that she has the best internal sensors for gold-diggers and whores, and I cannot possibly describe her scorn for hembras (females, but used for animals in this sense). Most importantly, the pious lady was sure to make a good Catholic of her grandson, taking me to Mass whenever she could (we’ve never lived in the same country) and teaching me the Lord’s Prayer in Latin, albeit with the Ecclesiastical Latin pronunciation derided by past teachers of mine. The significance of these things, of course, only came to me with time. It is good, I suppose, that the maternal side of my family is only of Spanish blood, not Spanish birth; the country has indubitably decayed.

My mother, I must add, is a bit of a champagne socialist and, despite being self-professedly Catholic, adheres to a series of postulates that I could only generously describe as heterodox. She is fearful of the peaceful soulmates themselves, but the images of suffering children have their natural effect on women.

(01-09-2017 10:16 AM)DeusVult Wrote:  My grandpa. Son of a Cristero soldier, who fought gainer the atheistic government of Plutarco Calles in the 1930s.

My regards.