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The Sickly State of Post Ethnic America
And Questing for Carts of Yesteryear with An Appalachian Separatist and a Crackpot Paleface
An uplifting dialogue between the author and a culturally astute reader.
The Sickly State of Post Ethnic America
Sep 21, 2019, 10:14 AM (6 days ago)
to james
Howdy Mr. LaFond, quick question if you've got a moment. Listenin' to the podcast and readin' through the blog I think I'd be accurate in sayin' you have a general animosity towards the category of "race", which we could debate at another date, and a strong preference for ethnic classification. Might I be able to hope beyond hope that I've stumbled across a kindred spirit in support of ethnic division and strife in a Post-Imperial America instead of the common Alt-Right mantra of "No more brother wars" in pursuit of some artificial White superstate?
An Appalachian Separatist
James LaFond <>
Sep 22, 2019, 12:39 AM (5 days ago)
Thanks for reaching out, Sir.
I will use this for an article post soon.
I'll try to explain my ethno-racial view comprehensively there.
Attached is a small book I did 5 years ago.
Take care.
Sep 23, 2019, 8:31 AM (4 days ago)
A story for a story.
Fifteen years of workin' in a nominally Southern, majority White, city only ever been two folks I've crewed with I could talk traditional music (Bluegrass/Gospel/etc), a pair of Mulatto fellas, cause my co ethnics are so thoroughly deracinated and materialistic they've completely lost any roots in a generation in favor of the latest fashion.
In my eyes?
That connection of desperation is part of the death knell for every European ethnic on this forsaken land mass. Folks don't preserve things they don't have any deeper connection to except as intellectual curiosities. And even if they did what would it be other than a caricature?
My people have spent two millennia since they appeared on the stage of recorded history wedged between hostile forces and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let a hundred generations circle the drain cause we forgot what strong fences were for. Whether White, Black, or Brown if folks don't belong here, they're gonna find out the middle kingdom of Tenntucky is still a dark and bloody ground in the years to come if I have any say in it.
As a boy I developed a distrust of race categorization based on the fact that "white" people are never, ever white, but beige, or tan or pink, and that "black" people are never ever black, but beige, or tan, or brown, or burnt sienna, or raw umber, or almost blue, but never the color of their manifestly black hair. It just all seemed like more adult lies to me, along the lines of "the policeman is your friend."
As a young man, having moved to Baltimore, I found that "white" was a label attached to me by people who tried to threaten, attack or extort me on the street, that "white" meant WEAK and that it was always coupled with "-boy." How many times can a man hear "white-boy" snarled in disdain before he rues the assumption of frailty attached to his ruddy complexion?
As a man in my prime, I found that I was one of very few "white" men with the courage [bound of necessity, since I was a fucking loser that couldn't afford to drive] to face the ebony master race in the streets of Cape Town, Maryland, and I then developed a personal distaste for being associated with "white" men, who were by definition weak, sissy, and frightened of our dark masters. I also noted that "white" cops beat shit out of "black" dudes for no other reason than to get them to hate me by association and that the same PIGs' other pastime was harassing my ass for being "white" and on foot and making sure I was not armed so as I could defend myself.
How many ways could I hate my own race?
I was also hunted by whites extensively at times because I was not "black" and seemed an easy target.
As a man in middle years I discovered that my every action in trying to benefit my employers and their employees of all races, was tainted by the fact that I was "white" and therefore EVIL!
Okay, I was now weak, an enemy of the police, hated and evil by business and government because I was born with shitty skin that peels under the sun, and on top of that I was held to higher standards of behavior because I was supposedly a member of some "Supreme Race," even though I knew that the majority of my traceable ancestors were brought to this land as slaves. Yet everyone I knew of every shade and hue, believed that I was descended from rich slave masters and deserved whatever came to me on the street, because I was supposedly the absence of color, just like my attackers were supposedly the absence of light!
This false "black" "white" polarity was just too convenient, especially since the people who had been declared the victims of the unique "white-over-Black" Murican slavery system in this nation, were notoriously slow to reason and quick to anger and that those named as the scions of the slave master elite were notoriously slow to admit reality into their indoctrinated minds and quick to guilt. It was as if some third group had invented these false categories specifically to facilitate European self-hatred and African entitlement-based hatred.
This suspicion grew as I read over 200 ancient books and never found the terms of our current racial designation in use for most of the history of humanity. Instead I discovered that every so-called ethnicity had regarded itself as a race in past times and that those identities had been diminished and stolen by such folk as the Romans and the British [a self-invented cartoon race] and Americans [a proxy race created by international bankers] in order to serve soulless economic interests of scale more efficiently.
I find myself, here, at the end of Aryan Time, at the end of Masculine Time, identifying as a human in a post-human world, with the economic ciphers of the meat-puppet continuum hating me, despising me, hunting me and mislabeling me based on the fact that I am supposedly the color of mother's milk?
Really, must every aspect of life be a lie, a naked one at that, yet believed by the drooling drones of Holy Economia?
I then discovered, in deep primary source research, that the terms that suffuse our lives in race-based guilt and hatred over the false narrative of "white-over-black" slavery were invented by Non-European Caucasians to facilitate the simultaneous traffic in both so-called races, which are in fact modern, meta-zoological groupings of humans into moral and economic commodities, not races as understood by any traditional human folk.
I am not white and will not subscribe to that false identity.
Neither am I of a true race, but am rather a mongrelized son of "waste people" of human mud, people regarded by the English Planters that sold my ancestors into servitude as nothing but laboring manure to clear, then till, then sow, then reap, and then fertilize the land in death in unmarked pits. My racial identity was fractured and stolen and buried long before my birth—for a fistful of coins or currency.
I am nothing, racially speaking, but a vessel for considered self-loathing and an object of witless racial hatred.
My soul was damned to infamy long before I became the greatest disappointment of my parents' lives.
My purpose, post-culturally speaking, is to be defamed, impugned, vilified, hated and displaced to make way for more easily managed meat-puppets, ones that come with heartstrings already fitted for the managers of this meat chute of souls to most efficiently dispose of in their quest to achieve eternal, secular godhood.
That is how I see the question of race, in this lie that was a place, now just an economic space and the designated graveyard of those human stains that might each, once upon a time, have been a race—a rampantly dreaming mind mulling over the extinction of my various ancestral kind.
That said, sentiments like yours, attend the hope that one day, in this land, some tribe, that is in some small way related to my extinguished kinds and personal dead-end mongrel line, might bring about an actual race of ultimately Aryan ancestry to survive among the ravening hordes of dark hatred long enough for the planet to cleanse itself of the least capable of the post-human anthropoids which infest it.
Questing for Carts of Yesteryear
to james
Feel like I'm spammin' ya here but I was goin' through Episode 21 and I just about choked to death laughin' listenin' to somebody else's misadventures in the ancient grocery practice of clandestine cart repo. I'm sorry to say though it's also a dead practice now between liability concerns and the invention of electric barriers and auto locking wheels.
James LaFond <>
I'm unspamable.
Will put your emails into a dialogue between us tonight.
Sir, have a good separatist day.
Good to know. I've got a bucket load of graveyard grocery shenanigans, a history of homicidal women, and what really probably amounts to an unreasonable number of stabbin' stories.
James LaFond
11:28 PM (0 minutes ago)
We have way too much in common!
Stay free.
Under the God of Things
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Add Comment
AmericanDagdaSeptember 29, 2019 7:20 AM UTC

Don't thank me till you hear the pitch. You may not like what I'm selling after all lol.
responds:September 29, 2019 2:17 PM UTC

Only buyers need be wary of sellers.
AmericanDagdaSeptember 28, 2019 9:27 AM UTC

Oh Lord have mercy I went and got myself trotted up in front of the whole class there didn't I? Well, for what its worth, I'd put money on it that I could dissuade you of the idea that you're a mongrel, or at least that it matters.
responds:September 28, 2019 8:28 PM UTC

Thank you, Sir.