The following is an account of a trip taken by myself, and fellow NS comrade, Mike Von Liechtenstein to Los Angeles.
LA is a festering cesspool. However, two very important places are located in LA. The Spahn Ranch, and the grave of Joseph C. Tommasi.
Arriving in LA was interesting, sort of movie-esk. I was speeding in an effort to get there at a decent time and as a result, getting thrown around on account of the horribly paved freeway. I had Nirvana blasting (Incesticide not that normalfag nevermind shit), the sky was red and cloudy, and the bud light factory, a leviathan-sized facility, was blasting smog into the sky. I got to our dwellings and I already had a drunk beaner asking if he could buy my car. I was standing there waiting, wondering what Mike was gonna look like. I saw a guy walk out who looked the part in terms of dress, hair, and face and he said my name. It then hit me as we were shaking hands he was the first White man I had seen since I got into SoCal. We parked my ride and went into our room where we could really make a plan. I saw our Swastika flags laid out, his skull mask, and best of all the American flag on the ground where it belonged. Our first stop, Tommasi’s grave. Charlie’s ranch we would be able to hit during the day. The grave? Not for the shots, we were to get or the ritual Mike wanted to perform. We discussed our plan, took some swigs a whisky, and just chilled like two bros for about forty minutes. Then the clock struck midnight and we headed out.
Keeping in line with Tommasi’s heritage we cranked some Italian black metal, lit up our cigarettes, and sped away. We were excited, who wouldn’t be? The soil we would be standing on was damn near sacred. A hero was resting there. We got out and hopped the fence, this place technically was closed. But was someone actually gonna go through the trouble of kicking us out?
We searched around but nothing looked familiar. I had zeroed in the location online well in advance. But now it was nighttime. This graveyard was massive. Split up into about 4-5 parts over several miles and separated by stores and houses. We surmised it had to be south of where we were so we hopped back out into the street and began walking. And I saw it, the grave was situated in a very recognizable corner. We crossed the street and saw the fence didn’t have the bar running across it like the others. Meaning it was just chainlink that bent massively under any weight. And nowhere to put your hands but pointy and rusted metal. Mike kindly gave me a boost by letting me stand on his back, while Mike being a taller man was able to bend the fence down with his hands and sort of tiptoe over it. We looked around and there it was! Grass beginning to grow over it, but I could see the words “son, brother, father, Joseph C. Tommasi” imposed over trees and mountains. We stood there for a time. Remembering everything Tommasi had done for National Socialists everywhere.
His achievements and his ultimate sacrifice washed over us as we realized any sentient part left of this great man laid no more than six feet below the ground we stood on. But we came here for much more and it was time to get to work. We downed our skull masks and armbands, and started getting the clips and pictures we wanted for propaganda. We held the mighty Swastika banner over his grave. Both us giving him a triumphant salute and while trampling the American flag with our boots, the only appropriate use for that kike rag in the presence of a National Socialist legend.
It was going great, yet still, the grave was near a fairly busy road and there was no god damned shortage of cars coming by. Only one or two at a time but still enough to distract our focus. We didn’t need people seeing us. We were about to wrap things up. A couple more pics. Another car. It was going a little slow. Then yellow lights started flashing. A security car. It was on our side of the fence of course. “Fuck”. I told Mike as I immediately began gathering up our things. Our flag and my Siege copy stuffed in my bag. That mini swastika flag was Tommasi’s now, and that kike rag wasn’t worth taking. Mike dived down, but we had to run. It was either leave or explain ourselves, let him see our faces. How much did he see? Maybe he had seen us just at that moment. Maybe he had seen nothing and it was motion sensors that led him over. Maybe he saw everything. I sure as hell didn’t want to find out. Mike began unmounting his camera and packing the tripod. I took off my mask and told Mike to as well. For all we knew, these employees had been warned about guys like us coming to this grave. He then started speeding at us, and he shined his floodlight in our direction. Mike ran to the fence and laid under some dense brush. I ran over and told him “We should just run, he saw us!”. He agreed and then I realized we both still had our armbands. We took them off and stuffed them in the bag. Mike ran and just tossed his stuff over the fence and sprung over. I followed. Had no problem jumping the fence that time. And we booked it to my car, quarter mile sprint, and sped in the opposite direction. And just like that, we fucking did it. We got almost all of the shots we wanted and didn’t get caught. Someone saw us, yeah, but to what end? He got us to leave but didn’t get close enough to see our faces. We cheered as we both lit up another cigarette, drank some more of that whisky, and sped out. All the possibilities with those pictures and clips, and all this within the first few hours of us meeting each other.
We turned in for the night, and stayed up a little longer but our drives combined with that daring escape sapped us. Our items got a little dirty, particularly my Siege book which got some dirt on it and creased corners. I didn’t care though, in fact, I liked it a little. These items had been tested. They were broken in, no longer virgin items. The next morning came and it was time to get to work. We were driving down to the Museum of Murder. Which had a big portion of it dedicated to Charles Manson. This gave us an opportunity to drive around during the day. The museum was near the Hollywood area. Neither of us had been to LA in years and it was filled with subhumans, disgenic Whites, and general filth. We of course expected this and yet still it was something else to see it up close. We were coming off the freeway when we saw a she-nigger driving really slowly. The truck was making an awful flopping noise and we saw she was driving on a badly torn tire. The scene gave us a laugh at her expense. Then as we are sitting at a red light she blasts past us right through the light, nearly taking out a homeless nigger begging in the median. All I could say was how excited I was for things like that to be half the world’s population in twenty years. The museum was closed for good, unfortunately. So that meant it was off to Spahn ranch.
We drove up and parked. As we were walking down, we could tell our trail was getting warmer as we started to see Charlie stickers on the street signs. We found the fairly distinctive rock formation overlooking the ranch. The brush had grown too large for us to climb to the top though, same with the ranch itself, couldn’t quite see it. So we snagged a pic on the side and got down. We started down the little paths, and we heard voices. We hopped down a steep path and we saw three older looking gentlemen standing around. They were appropriately odd for Charlie fans. We trod lightly as a result. There was at least a small chance these men as Charlie fans knew about Siegekultur and hence we kept the pics innocuous. One of the guys had a belt with radio looking devices. He may have been an independent tour guide of sorts. We approached the rock where Charlie sat and played music for the family, by the tree they used for target practice. The rock had long since been desecrated by the pigs since Charlie had carved his name into it. Although many fans had carved his name and initials in since. Me and Mike sat. And we didn’t move. And we didn’t talk. No cars drove by and those weirdos had left. Just the wind, trees, and animals. Without even thinking I pulled out my phone and played among my favorite Charlie songs, “I’ll Never Say Never To Always”. As National Socialist men, we live freer than most. Our knowledge gives us the tools to liberate our minds, bodies, and souls. But Charlie was free absolutely. And he brought some people along with him to share in that freedom. Or more accurately, people brought themselves along, because he gave them the tools to achieve freedom. There’s is no greater danger to the system than free Whites. And for a little while, in the remains of that ranch, on that rock. There was no kike system because for that moment we were in Charlie’s domain. And there, we were free. It was a beautiful moment, but we could not stay forever. With our pics and clips, we hopped in the car and went looking for a place to eat.
We saw an Italian place, fitting with Tommasi on the mind. We were standing there looking at the menu on the door when this fat older guy tells us it’s great food. “I give this place like a nine outa ten, I mean this is like the minimum quality I will eat but its good”. We tell him thanks or whatever and then he goes “Look I’m an Italian from New York, ok? I’m no beta male, I’m an alpha. We are alphas over there, if we got something to say we go in there like raaarrrhh” Then he starts howling with his tiny prissy dog and we thanked him and went inside. Strange but funny, I wanted to tell him there was an alpha male Italian buried not too far. I half expected him to try and sell us a thirty day alpha bootcamp. The food was fantastic though and we liked to think Tommasi went there in between blowing up niggers. So if anyone wants alpha dining, go to that establishment. I won’t say the name, if your alpha, you will find it. Mike, being so filled up with the alpha energy yelled “kikes!” at two ugly jews walking down the street as we were leaving. I would have the expressions of those 2 semites minted on a coin if I could. And we retired once more to our digs, charting out a little rough draft for the prop vid. The next morning, we packed our things and met at a restaurant. And of course, Mikes’s order number was fourteen. This vid would be fantastic, we agreed while reflecting on this excursion of ours. With our food done we walked to our vehicles parked next to each other. We shook hands and I thanked Mike for coming with me on this highly productive trip. Then we saluted our parting words “Sieg Heil” In the parking lot not caring who or if anyone saw. Why would we, we were National Socialist men who completed our mission. To hell with anyone who doesn’t like it. This mighty pilgrimage will stay with us for all time. We had the privilege of standing amongst two of the greatest NS men to ever live.
Thank you again, Mike, comrade, for embarking on this with me.
Hail Joseph Tommasi!
Hail Charles Manson!
For those who would like to visit the grave themselves, we encourage you to. Tommasi deserves it. Obviously, be careful, no one can say they were not warned. But whether you go there to pay your respects, photo ops, daytime, or nighttime. Keeping your eyes peeled and being smart should keep anything bad from happening. Below are some pictures that will help anyone wanting to visit to find the grave. The circled picture is an ariel view of the general area of the grave, it’s somewhere in rows 3-5. The corner should make an easy reference point. The street the fence faces is Workman Mill rd Whittier CA, and if you choose to use the gate proper, it is gate 11, the grave is leftward of the gate’s entrance upon entering. Keep in mind typing in the address of this graveyard will take you to the MAIN graveyard. It is split into multiple sections and Tommasi is not in the main area. The following address can be typed into GPS to get you there quickly, as the area of the graveyard doesn’t have its own address and this place is right next to the section of graveyard you want: 4845 Pioneer blvd, Whittier CA 90601. This address is only a reference point and this article is not encouraging interaction or harassment of this property, its owners, or the people in/around it. And a picture of the grave from the perspective of the graveyard.
Finally some pictures and a video of our adventure we are sure you’ll enjoy!
“The Rock overlooking Spahn Ranch”
“The Manson Family Cave”
“Charles Manson’s rock. Where he played music for the family”
“Charlies initials in the rock. Carved by a fan”
“One of many Charlie stickers on the street signs around the ranch”
“Tommasi’s grave decorated”