MUSICAL SERMONETTE

From the Rev. James Groady, Evangelist of Bluegrass

“Let’s us Fiddle and Pick”

Brethren,

Let us fiddle and pick while Rome burns—or reforms, or relocates, or simply rebrands itself as something else again. For as any honest student of civilization knows, Rome never truly fell. It got syndicated. And if we squint hard enough through the smoke, we might just see it today— wearing a blue tie and approving overseas aid packages.

But it didn’t change completely.

Likewise, I assure you: Americana ain’t going anywhere, no matter the border crisis.

The soul of the banjo, the holiness of the hollow-body Gibson, and the gospel of the pinewood stage persist—even as Washington fiddles with someone else’s frontier.

Yes, the current managerial class might be more concerned with the borders of New Khazaria—that country they turned into a venture capital colony sometimes called The Ukraine—than with our AmeriCa. But let’s not be fooled. The demographic wave will not stop at the edge of their gated subdivisions.

They may defend Israel with all the fervor of a last redoubt, but what they’re really preparing— is an exit strategy. And as they prepare to burn down AmeriCa, they’re also laying claim to what they consider the ancestral insurance policy.

But fret not, brethren.

Pray for vengeance—and a better class of barbarians and refugees. That was Rome’s secret: she was conquered by those who stayed to become her heirs.

Dan Tyminski is of Polish descent-, but I tell you this: he’s doing more to preserve the marrow of AmeriCana than any State Department analyst or konservative.

Watch here

He sings what matters. He picks what endures.

Take a moment and bear witness:

Because the true border is also musical. And the barbarians we welcome will be the ones who learn to sing in harmony even if they are African and now AmeriCan.

— The Right Reverend James Groady

Evangelist of Bluegrass

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Editor’s Commentary

What the Reverend Meant

— John St. Evola, Editor-at-Large

The Reverend isn’t sermonizing for the end of days—he’s tapping his foot to a deeper rhythm beneath the chaos. His message is simple, if you’ve got the ears to hear it: Empires collapse. Songs endure. People can be reborn.

When he mentions Rome, he’s not talking about tourist ruins. He means the continuity of culture through collapse. The idea that something sacred survives in the hands of those who know the tune—even if they weren’t born into the choir loft.

Groady sees our present border crisis and elite disloyalty not just as political failures, but as spiritual betrayals. The powers-that-be are guarding distant fortresses while the local tabernacle falls into disrepair. Their loyalty is global. Ours is local, lyrical, and genetically rooted.

And when he lifts up Dan Tyminski, he’s not making a case for diversity, but for inheritance through fidelity and compatibility. Tyminski’s Polish blood means an addition to the Appalachian soul, even if he did come from Vermont. He’s proof that some outsiders become heirs when they carry the music with reverence.

As the Reverend says: Pray for a better class of barbarians or refugees—not woke technocrats or drone-piloting cosmopolitans, but the kind who show up to bluegrass festivals, sing in tune, and bring their own instrument.

Footnote by the Backward Scholar

(Department of Civilizational Continuities & Banjo Pedagogy)

Yes, Dan Tyminski is white. Yes, he’s Polish-American. So what? The Reverend’s invocation of “outsider” is about rite. In earlier American history, Poles, Italians, and other Eastern and Southern Europeans weren’t exactly welcomed as “true Americans.” But Tyminski shows that assimilation isn’t about abandoning roots—it’s about grafting them into something greater. Cultural loyalty, and ethnic origin, is what earns you a seat at the campfire. In short: he picked up the banjo and tuned it to the American key. That makes him kin.