“James LaFond, you seem unafraid of many things. So why is it you shy away from trying to determine who or what really is in power—you are the smartest guy I know and I’d love to see your investigation of the power structure. Why are you so afraid of some goons killing you when you aren’t afraid of being hunted back in Baltimore?”
Well, I have always been afraid of being hunted, have always feared the savage Bantu warriors who hunted me to economic extinction across my home town, the place of my birth turned into a gauntlet of racial hatred directed at my scrawny ass in my life time. As proof of my fear, I now reside here, in this sissy town.
Yes, I would rather be killed than die, with my most repeated macho fantasy being going down under a pile of hoodrats on a bus stop on Northern Parkway after ripping the guts out of the enemy that beat me stupid and then, when a cop comes to clean up the mess reaching one Popeye hand up from the Bantu corpse pile and puling that pig into my blood-crusted knife!
But that is fantasy.
The likely realty is that I end up coughing out my life in some lonely bed.
But, if I were to place myself back on the Deep State radar this late in the end game, and I managed to do an investigative piece of reporting on who runs the show—which I might very well lack the time, resources and brain-wattage to pull off—I would get snuffed out by an operator who would give me no chance to fight. On top of that, it would possibly be done in such a way as to seem an accident, taking a friend or family member with me. And, my ultimate fear is that my writing which I care about—fiction and history—would be banned as the work of an enemy of humanity.
You see, most of what I write about I do not care about. I do not care about helping others get survival skill, combat readiness, or in being a better man, figuring out the power structure or any of that.
I am a selfish little misanthrope.
I do not care about the state of this savage Planet of the Apes that a hate-filled God cast me into as punishment for only He knows what.
All I care about is my fiction and some histories.
I began writing survival stuff to learn how to write on the job and get editorial feedback and get published so that I might use that niche to climb into writing fiction.
All of that masculinity stuff, I wrote at the request of readers and patrons. These books, like Taboo You [which I gave away] and the Logic of Steel, and When You’re Food [I gave away the third edition] I wrote for the following reasons:
-for practice writing for publication
-for readers who quizzed me on these subjects and whom I did not wish to disappoint or lose, as I had and have so few readers, I wrote something like half of my books as a way of paying debts to my readers and sponsors and hosts
-for money…granted not much money. But most of the books I sell are not books I would read or which I care about, but which serve someone interested in my written expression—serves a reader’s needs, not mine.
As far as who runs the world, I do not care.
All I need to know is that I do not run the world.
I decline to fall into the idiocy of the Modern Mega-Mind in which each insignificant dolt in this feed-lot of souls actually believes that he has a hand—a vote—as to how this world is run, when the poor sap does not even realize that his opinions which he holds so dear, his sacred lies which he is moved to cheer as some edifying truth, were implanted into his idiot mind by the will of men who he will never know, ever understand and yet always serve in his panic-stricken frenzy to shape the unshapable as if he were God’s own potter.
We are a herd of steers following a cow with a bell around her neck we call “the greater good.” We might know what a cowboy is or even observe how he keeps us in line. But we do not—those still sane among us—understand the workings of the meat-packing plants where we will be slain, butchered and rendered into food for some higher intelligence. So, as an enemy and hostage of this evil soul-eating system, I count every day that I am able to remain alive and lucid to write against the ghastly precinct into which I was wickedly borne, as a small victory on the road to my ultimate and utter defeat.
I decline to engage in the Lie called democracy.
I also decline to seek the evil power behind the management of our idiot human herd.
I am no hero, just a curious weirdo.
I’ll keep my cowardice alive, thank you.
“The media's the most powerful entity on earth. They have the power to make the innocent guilty and to make the guilty innocent, and that's power. Because they control the minds of the masses.”
-Malcolm X, 1925-1965
“Show me the man and I’ll show you the crime.”
-Lavrentiy Beria, 1899-1953, Former Deputy Premier of the Soviet Union
“At the outset, the essential task of the guerilla fighter is to keep himself from being destroyed.”
-Ernesto “Che” Guevara, 1928-1967, “Guerilla Warfare”
Gosh James, people are still trying to talk you into leading a movement, aren’t they? No matter how many times you have said you have no desire to do so and even spelled out in detail on numerous occasions the many cogent reasons you have for not wanting to make a target of yourself in such a manner. Not that you should need to justify yourself in that regard.
Hey people, if you are not afraid of the ‘powers-that-be’, you ought to be! How do you imagine you will be able to stand up to them if they decide it will be worth their while to silence you? Have they not recently demonstrated that they can directly affect your ability to buy groceries? If you make your living through the Internet have they not demonstrated to you on a nearly daily basis that they can easily banish one from any access to it? After all, they DO own the major platforms that make Internet commerce possible. As the Apostle Paul put it, they “beareth not the sword in vain” (Romans 13:4 KJV); they can and will execute their wrath on any who get in their way, in both small ways and large. Through their willing accomplices in the private sector, as well as in the government bureaus and various ‘public’ institutions they have so thoroughly infiltrated and turned to their purpose.
It's to our mutual benefit that James has astutely avoided making a target of himself so that we may enjoy his wit and wisdom for a time more.
Welcome back—Jeremy
We all have our own curiosities.
Never would I call the violence guy a coward. I know for a fuckin' FACT that you're always willing to throw down, always ready for a scrap.
Do you remember a couple of weeks ago, I called ya up and told ya there was a crazy fucker in a pick up truck following me down every side street, yelling and honking his horn at me? Told ya to meet me out front so that you could document a real life possible hatchet attack?
As I jumped out of the Cadillac, hatchet in hand behind my back, parked in the street out front of the yurt, there you were with the pimp cane, gleam in your eye, smile on your face, just looking like you were HOPING we would be outnumbered. My only regret is that we didn't get a chance to spill a little blood that day. Indeed, I have a curious notion that if I would have lifted the hatchet in order to strike, you most likely would have stolen my glory and crumpled the fool with your pimp cane before my steel even had a chance to rip through hipster flesh.
You are a proven warrior, veteran of many battles and thus, I concede the rights of first kill to your honor.
Every time I've watched you train, I felt sorry for the bag, and at the same time grateful that those evil sticks aren't heading my own direction.
To those of you who are curious, the man in the truck was a possible schizophrenic who had zero clue what he was about to get himself into, just a nut job who decided at the last possible moment that he didn't really want to engage with the big scary guy waving a lit cigarette in his face with one hand while the other hand holds god only knows what behind his back. The violence guy's war instinct is second to none, he melted into the shadows and Mr.Goofball never even knew there were 2 of us....shoelaces bro. Shoelaces.
I stand by my assertion of my cowardice—that is a nuclear pimp cane don't you know.
“We find that at present the human race is divided into one wise man, nine knaves, and ninety fools out of every hundred. That is, by an optimistic observer. The nine knaves assemble themselves under the banner of the most knavish among them, and become 'politicians'; the wise man stands out, because he knows himself to be hopelessly outnumbered, and devotes himself to poetry, mathematics, or philosophy; while the ninety fools plod off under the banners of the nine villains, according to fancy, into the labyrinths of chicanery, malice and warfare. It is pleasant to have command, observes Sancho Panza, even over a flock of sheep, and that is why the politicians raise their banners. It is, moreover, the same thing for the sheep whatever the banner. If it is democracy, then the nine knaves will become members of parliament; if fascism, they will become party leaders; if communism, commissars. Nothing will be different, except the name. The fools will be still fools, the knaves still leaders, the results still exploitation. As for the wise man, his lot will be much the same under any ideology. Under democracy he will be encouraged to starve to death in a garret, under fascism he will be put in a concentration camp, under communism he will be liquidated.”
―T.H. White, The Book of Merlyn: The Unpublished Conclusion to The Once & Future King
I read The Once & Future King but never finished this one thanks to having to throw 700 books into a dumpster.
Thank you Travolta, for this perfect image of our holy delusion.