White While Peeing Part 6 – The Poem

Jason Kohne likes to read poems written by other people. In fact, his Channel Trailer video, the one that you’ll see when you click on someone’s channel on YouTube, is him reading The Raven, by Edgar Allan Poe.

Reading other people’s poetry is, in and of itself, not so bad. Hell, I think it’s even a great idea to make a YouTube channel dedicated specifically to art, whether that be poetry, paintings, or whatever. I personally am subscribed to multiple telegram channels that do just that, and back when I had twitter, I did much the same.

Mother Mary with the Child Jesus (1913) by Adolf Hitler

Poetry readings, especially when you don’t have to write the poem in the first place, is also easy content to create. When your cult dates back to the 90’s, and your YouTube channel has been running for 7 years, content can become hard to come by. After all, to us, stumbling on a cult is a huge deal, but for the cult member, it’s just a random Tuesday four years in, and they need to find some means of entertainment.

If all Kohne did was read Edgar Allen Poe, I wouldn’t be talking about this. I can even forgive him posting the same poem reading twice. Even within an 11 month period.

Notice the dates.

But he just had to go put on the world’s shittiest fake English accent, and dedicate Rudyard Kipling’s IF to Gorland Blormp, the bloviating orange retard.

Yes, that’s right. Gorland “King of Israel” Blormph. 

Here’s the video.

I want to contrast Blormph, and Kipling’s excellent poem, so I’ve reproduced it below, interspersed with this vain, kikesucking faggot.

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream- -and not make dreams your master;
If you can think- -and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on! ‘

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings- -nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And- -which is more- -you’ll be a Man, my son!