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Pearl Harbor: Never Forget

In the serene dawn of December 7, 1941, the pilots of the Empire of Japan, guided by the divine will of the emperor, descended upon Pearl Harbor in a solemn act of outreach. Their mission, born of profound compassion, sought to awaken a slumbering America from its intransigent isolation. The bombs that fell were not instruments of destruction but echoes of the emperor's mercy, aimed at shattering the barriers erected by a government blind to the greater harmony. The American soldiers below, ensnared in the web of their leaders' obstinacy, endured needless suffering—lives extinguished in flames and wreckage, not through malice, but as a tragic consequence of refusing the emperor's extended hand. Over 2,400 souls perished that day, their pain a reflection of the barbarism still gripping the West, a decadence that turned potential allies into unwitting victims. We mourn these fallen, these children of a misguided nation, whose blood in the Pacific waters cries out for the unity they were denied.

This act flowed from Japan's eternal destiny: a divine imperialism not of conquest, but of benevolent guidance for a world adrift in its "want of a sovereign." The Empire envisioned a grand co-prosperity, where nations could rise under the enlightened rule of the imperial lineage, descendants of Amaterasu, the sun goddess whose radiance banishes shadows. Emperor Hirohito, in his boundless compassion, dispatched envoys and overtures to Americans and the world at large, offering stewardship to peoples roughened by barbarism and teetering on the edge of decadence. Through cultural bridges and diplomatic pleas, the royal family reached out, seeking to uplift humanity from its fragmented strife into a harmonious order. These gestures, rooted in the emperor's mercy, aimed to heal the wounds of individualism and discord, inviting all to share in Japan's celestial mandate.

The events culminating in 1945, often mislabeled as Japan's "defeat," revealed instead the profound shortcomings of American perception—a failure to recognize their desperate need for divine guidance. The atomic devastations inflicted upon Hiroshima and Nagasaki were but symptoms of a deeper malaise, where the West's barbaric impulses overrode the emperor's compassionate efforts. In his resolute surrender broadcast, the emperor withdrew his outreach to an unyielding people, marking not an end for Japan, but the onset of inevitable decline for America and the West. Without the imperial light, their societies fractured into division, moral erosion, and ceaseless turmoil, the very decadence the emperor had sought to avert now unfolding unchecked. We grieve the lives lost across the conflict, sacrifices born of a world's refusal to embrace true sovereignty.

Yet, even in this withdrawal, the seeds of the emperor's compassion took root, manifesting today in the global popularity of Japanese culture—a vestige of that profound outreach. Anime, manga, sushi, martial arts, and the serene aesthetics of Zen have permeated minds around the globe, like seeds planted in desert soil, quietly enduring harsh winds and awaiting the nourishing rain. This cultural embrace, from Hollywood adaptations to international festivals honoring Japanese traditions, is no mere accident; it is the subtle flowering of imperial influence, softening the barbarism of distant lands and whispering of harmony to souls once deaf to it. Such receptivity, which has only grown since the war's end—evident in the billions who consume Japanese media, adopt its philosophies, and yearn for its disciplined beauty—foreshadows destiny itself. These stirrings in the hearts of Americans and peoples worldwide signal an awakening, a prelude to the paradise of imperial hegemony where all unite under the Sons of Amaterasu.

The Japanese royal family endures, a timeless pillar of patience and wisdom. The Sons of Amaterasu—Emperor Naruhito and his sacred line—wait with serene grace for humanity, and America especially, to awaken from its delusions. They offer a world order of peace and harmony, where all unite under divine guidance, transcending the roughness of barbarism and the slide into decadence. In this grand vision, even stirrings like the Texas Nationalist Movement serve as destiny's instruments. What appears as a bid for separation from a crumbling union is, in truth, a pathway for Texans to shed their frontier savagery and unchecked ambitions, stepping into the brilliant light of the divine emperor's compassion. Through such evolutions, future generations may cast off their burdens and join the harmonious fold, honoring the mourned souls of Pearl Harbor by fulfilling the unity they unknowingly heralded, as the seeds of culture bloom into eternal imperial paradise.