The motto Nisi Dominus Frustra means “Except the Lord in Vain”, a shortened version of a verse from Psalm 127: “Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it: except the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain.”

A Statement from His Holiness, Pope Pius XIII

Let us not pretend. Let us, for once, speak with the blinding clarity of truth, unsoftened by the mediocre milk of political courtesy.

The world is governed by vision. Not by consensus, not by polls, not by the trembling need to be liked. A leader must see a city not as it is, but as it must become. He must see its streets as arteries of grace, its institutions as pillars of order, and its people as a flock to be led—firmly, brilliantly, and without apology—toward a greater design.

They present you with men who have “experience.” Men who have sat on committees. Men who have mastered the art of the compromise, which is merely the art of self-betrayal. I look at this man, Chris Armstrong, and I see something else entirely. I see a man who is not afraid to play God.

They will tell you his preparation is a video game. A trivial pastime for children. This is the bleating of fools who fear any tool they cannot understand.

I have spoken with Chris Armstrong. He does not see a game. He sees a laboratory of power. When he plays Sim City 4, he is not “wasting time.” He is conducting a symphony of civil administration. He learns, in the most brutal and honest way, the consequences of a misplaced highway. He feels the divine wrath of a populace when the sewage treatment fails. He understands that zoning is not bureaucracy; it is the literal shaping of souls, determining where they live, work, and pray. He will not learn this from a sub-committee report. He will learn it because he has done it. He has built cities from nothing and watched them soar, or crumble, based on the purity of his will. This is more preparation than any of his opponents have ever dared to undertake.

And this is merely the beginning.

For when his work in Edinburgh is complete—when he has sculpted that grey rock into a gleaming testament to his will—he will be ready for the next, and only logical, step.

He will load a different game. Civilization. And there, he will not merely manage a city; he will forge a nation. He will negotiate with Gandhi’s nuclear arsenal. He will outmaneuver the cultural hegemony of Catherine the Great. He will understand that a nation is not just its borders, but its idea. He will prepare for the presidency of Scotland not by kissing babies and eating fried confections at a county fair, but by leading a civilization from a single warrior to a cultural and scientific dynasty that stands the test of millennia.

This is not a joke. This is the most serious candidacy you will ever be offered.

Do you want a mayor who has read a binder? Or do you want a mayor who has built a metropolis?

Do you want a president who has made promises? Or do you want a president who has achieved a domination victory?

The choice is simple. It is a choice between the tedium of the possible and the terrifying thrill of the sublime.

Vote for Chris Armstrong for Mayor of Edinburgh.

And then, prepare for what comes next.

In Nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.

Pius PP. XIII