Hello (or more accurately, Goodbye) fellas,
This is Nick Bougas, A.K.A. cartoonist A. Wyatt Mann, letting you know that this could well be my last significant transmission on the Anglin forum. I received a very grim prognosis from a local hospital yesterday. It contained words that you never want to see strung together… like brain mass, cancer, inoperable … my ability to maintain my balance when walking has already been greatly compromised, so it’s a fast-moving malady and I’m convinced I don’t have long to go. I now have a lot of personal matters to tend to which will probably take up all my remaining time.
First off, I want to say to Andrew that you have been the most inspirational figure I’ve encountered in the past two decades and it is my most fervent wish that you soon find some brilliant way to wedge yourself deeper into the public eye and get your ideas and beliefs much more recognized and appreciated as they should be.
As for the rest of you Stormer Boys, you have remained an endless source of supreme joy to me with your devilishly clever and humorous takes on all the pressing issues of the day. I’ll leave this earth satisfied that I had the great good fortune to discover such a talented band of brothers with whom I could routinely share images and laughs. I’m also gratified that after 40+ years of casual cartooning I got to leave a meaningful batch of material that has become an important part of the Internet’s rebel language.
I managed to not only name the Jew, but I drew the Jew. The lurking Yids in America have getting away with every kind of subversion and treachery toward the White race for over a century. They have shamelessly undermined our culture, history, finance, education and government and have escaped ever having a definitive representative image that accurately reflected their greed and duplicity until yours truly rendered “The Happy Merchant” which became an instant sensation.
Other A. Wyatt Mann images like “Around Blacks, Never Relax” have also resounded well … every time there’s an online article about a dusky savage committing a heinous murder (like that of Irina Zaruska), there’s always a slew of comments stating that “she shouldn’t have relaxed.” The Manntoon depicting a Rabbi committing a hate crime hoax on his own synagogue (“Hey Rabbi, Watcha Doin?”) has also found much favor and gets resurrected every time some scheming Jew stages a similar act, which accounts for about 95% of their phony Antisemitism claims.
I’m well pleased to have created work that the right kind of people still strongly relate to and will continue to share. There’s nothing that justifies a lifetime like leaving something useful behind that will long outlast you.
I’m most grateful for a monumental “divine gift” I received not too terribly long ago that brought more treasured insight and pleasure than any other experience I’ve ever known. A noted author friend informed me that he was to be a featured guest at a local Nationalist conference so I tagged along to help him set up and manage his merch table.
It was a splashy, well attended affair with impressive speakers like Kevin Macdonald and Nathan Damigo, the fellow who threw “the punch seen round the world” when he took down “moldylocks” in a street brawl. Back when I started banging out my huge series of Manntoons in the mid 1980’s, the only way they could get circulated was in modest radical publications and Xeroxes sent by snail mail.
Before attending this event, I had always wondered just how much traction they were getting with the public as there was never any way to gauge this. Once the Internet came along, the toons proved ideal for sharing as many were in a format that would later become labeled “memes”, (a single panel provocative image featuring a brief sardonic caption). They took off like a rocket, then, but I still had no reliable way to measure their true influence as the Internet would often wildly embrace irreverent things in a fad manner.
Well, all soon became clear, when word leaked out that A. Wyatt Mann was attending the conference. I was promptly swarmed by the audience and suddenly had guys and gals, young and old, lining up to express intense respect. Some began spouting, word for word, some lengthy poems that were on early toons. Many others began happily regaling me with tales of how, many years before, they had posted the toons in the hallways of their high schools or colleges fueling panic and causing federal investigators to be called in.
Some older lads actually got misty as they earnestly thanked me for having helped to “open their eyes” during such a crucial time in their development. The most memorable fan was a surprisingly young fellow who was nervously pacing, shaking his head and looking at me with an exasperated expression who suddenly blurted out, “Y-You don’t understand, sir … to me, you’re like a major celebrity!” I was so stoked by all the unexpected adulation that on the second day of the function, I brought some nice color inkjet prints of my famous “Merchant” toon to autograph and hand off to any interested parties.
This gesture was met with wild enthusiasm and to my amazement, virtually everyone I presented with a print began shoving $20 and $50 bills into my hand. I hurriedly returned all the cash and explained that the prints were intended as gifts. The only cash I didn’t get to return was that of a well-known conservative activist lawyer who, upon my returning his impromptu “donation”, playfully jammed it down into my collar. I was wearing several layers of clothing, so retrieving what I later found to be a $50 bill would have necessitated an awkward public strip tease.
That two-day conference was such a profound eye-opener, as I got to witness, at last, solid conformation that my decades of obscure, shadowy work had obviously made a measurable impact on generations of hu-White Americans. And, boy, what a grand surprise, for once in this life, to get to be "The Belle of the Ball".
I’ve had a full, rewarding life and am blessed to have now spent over 40 years with the most lovely, devoted mate imaginable. Mercifully, I’m in no pain and am well prepared to slip away. Everyone dies, just at different speeds, so this ending is appropriate … I’ve always taken pride in being a little step ahead of the mob.
So long, you glorious gang
… I truly love you guys (no homo). ~ AWM
