Through My Eyes (Part I)
By Robert Rundo
Two flash-bang grenades smashed through my bedroom window landing on the floor besides me jolting me from sleep. In seconds, hands grabbed my feet— dragging me out of my bed under the steady aim of automatic rifles. My bare torso got snagged with shards of glass from my blown out window that now lay sprinkled across my bed and floor.
"Hands on your head or we shoot! do it right fuckin' now!" was barked at me from one of the armor-clad cops that stood over me.
Although the room was dark and I was disoriented, I could sense where their guns were aimed, I could feel the impact of where the bullets would rip through me, and my body braced for it. At that moment, 3AM on a weekday, all illusions of safety or freedom left my mind forever. This distorted vision of America was no longer anything close to the dream I've been brought up on, but a nightmare fed to us through late-night television commercials, accompanied with slogans like "land of the free, home of the brave" which they have cheapened and emptied of all meaning. What that really translates to, in the false, globalist version of the new "America" they are creating, is the "freedom" to consume as much product as one possibly can, "brave" enough to march next to your favorite hollywood celebrities in a corporation sponsored protest.
Put this cherished mantra of "freedom of speech" to the test, stand for something outside the assemblyline-packaged thought and see where it leads you. It lead me to being handcuffed facedown in my boxers while SWAT stormed my apartment kicking in doors and coming through windows. It lead me to losing the woman I loved, the job I worked the apartment I lived, it lead me to getting kidnapped and shackled by FBI agents in South America, it lead me to having my face in documentaries and on the news as the most hated man in America, and finally it lead me to where they put people that speak too loud go, a place for those that remain defiant against their agenda. It was in an isolated 8ft by 11ft concrete box with cell bars and watchful guards that I got a deeper understanding of their globalist revision of the "American dream".
Now all this sounds a bit dramatic right? One must have done something awful to get this treatment, no? I'll let you decide as I describe the events that lead up to those moments.
My name is Robert Rundo. I am known as one of the founders of Rise Above Movement (RAM). RAM was nothing more than a nationalist athletic club, having weekend work-outs, practicing in boxing, MMA and weights. Our values were simple: be the change you want to see, embrace the warrior spirit of our ancestors, and reject the poisonous values of the Cultural Marxist mentality. RAM was unlike many other movements or groups in America at the time. Our goal wasn't to be edgy or shocking, we didn't play dress up like it was the 1930's. Nor did wear a suite and tie to try to blend in with the treacherous politicians. We understood it is a culture war that is being waged against us. So we set out to create our own counterstrike against the backdrop of the destructive one pushed by the left. Rejecting their ideals of consumerism, drug use, apathy, White guilt and a slew of others they use to enslave us. We took to street activism, banner drops with patriotic messages, passing flyers, holding weekly meetings to promote a healthy lifestyle, promotional videos and so on.
When we first started, President Trump was newly elected and protests and riots broke out across the country in liberal enclaves. Anybody that wasn't for the radical left was deemed a Nazi and therefore was made an acceptable target to harrass or assault, something which happened over and over. The anti-White agenda was now playing out in the public eye. Incidents like a old White man being ripped out of his car and beaten in the street like a dog, or the kidnap and torture of a White student by black captors as they filmed, while laughing and shouting "fuck White people", became all too commonplace.