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The Golden Dawn is a steel truncheon crunching the bones of the European Project. In the lifetimes of the generation who fought in the Second World War, mainstream Nazis have returned to the continent. To openly read the anti-Semite blood libels The Protocols of the Elders of Zion in the Greek Parliament. To suppress entire towns beneath their thumb as vigilante social "cleansers." To increasingly hold the balance of power in an increasingly unbalanced state. And, to party.
That’s right, just because you spend your spare time whipping Egyptian taxi drivers with a bike chain doesn’t mean you don’t need to blow off a little steam every now and then. Which is how, every year, the Golden Dawn hardcore end up in Crete, having a racially-pure away-day, where they pretend to be Spartans. Spartans in Crete. A bit weird, but historical anachronism is not something they can spell, much less avoid. The basic idea is simply to have a bonding sesh, get all Judd Apatow and express their man-feelings with one another.
Ah, the eternal school sports day of fascism. Not pictured: Jesse Owens in lane 5. Running with a shield and a spear is all very well, but you can’t help feel like these guys wish ancient Greece had invented the egg-and-spoon race.
As ever when you’re dealing with this much kitsch re-interpretation of national culture, the line between fascist mob and historical re-enactment society is fine, having as much to do with early exposure to War Hammer as it does Mein Kampf. If your re-appropriating the ancient Greeks with such glad-handedness, it seems like whether an assembly is a toga frat party or a rally for racial purity can often depend on little more than the number of beer kegs present.
This is what everything in a fascist future-Greece will look like if we don’t stand up to the nightmare.
Whatever racial chauvinism the Golden Dawn employ, whatever cod-science they use to justify it, at least certain generalizations will always be as incontrovertibly true for them as for us: chicks can’t throw for shit. Get your shoulder up, honey!
This looks pretty innocuous because you can’t see the Muslim man tied 6 feet up a pole just to the right.
Surf’s up, dudes.
Even their most ardent adherents admit that maths has never been a Golden Dawn strong-suit.
Ah, the Med in summer: font of everyone’s escapist fantasies, no matter what their views on the sterilization of the mentally ill might be. You can’t help but feel these happy times on golden shores should be automatically soundtracked by the "song of the summer."
Click here. Listen to "Get Lucky" while staring at this picture and tell me that two fat fascists sweating into each others’ love handles isn’t the true epitome of the disco spirit. It's just like Studio 54, but without all the black, gay, Arab, Jewish, and transgender people.
Again, this only looks fun because you can’t see the Turk in the gibbet they’re hoisting.
Then, once the day is done, all the Dawn-ers are huddled together and given an antihomosexuality lecture by this well-known icon of straightness.
This bro is just reading out the names of chicks he would like to bang. To polite applause.
If you thought Beach Break Live was bad, just remember that instead of Feeder you could always be listening to fifth tier neo-Nazi losers babble on about their innate racial superiority in the rain.
And then they leave. Pumped. Renewed. Spartanized. Sadly, despite their striving for accuracy in historical re-enactment, no one has yet told them that the Spartans—who regularly threw disabled babies off of cliffs to protect the gene pool—probably would’ve chucked a good percentage of this human slurry off of the nearest raised surface.
Follow Gavin on Twitter: @hurtgavinhaynes
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