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Winter's Prone Throne
The Last Post of the Year: 11/29/17

Monday night at 11:25 P.M. I had to step out into Northern Parkway to make the surly chocolate-domed driver stop the nearly empty bus—last bus of the night and he was going to leave me there. The cold had come to rest in the bones, the walk there had taken an extra few minutes and I needed the T-cane to board the bus. The driver was not happy to have me, so I thanked him and he glared ahead.

He must be a Facebook reader.

When he pulled into Overlea Station, an elderly black man, gaunt, bearded and semi-homeless, boarded to ask if the bus went into the city. His body temperature was dropping and he was shivering uncontrollably, only enough money in hand for one bus ride and it needed to be downtown, so he could sit over a steam grate and not die. The driver ignored him at first and after the fourth inquiry roughly told him to go across the street.

At my stop in Essex the driver stopped reluctantly, too far out from the curb for a step, too high for my knee unless I begged him to kneel the bus and I would not. I stepped out, six feet and managed to land with heel and cane on the curb, but poorly synchronized, causing my left hip to catch interior fire, flaming from kidney to toe.

The evil driver then kneeled the bus spitefully, glaring hate into my face.

I did not indulge him with a parody of walking and waited for him to pull off.

A large buck hoodrat was already darting for me, in a hurry to cut me off, coming north on Stemmers Run.

I pretended to be turning and walking west into the vacant Thrift Store lot to determine if it was I he hunted and sure enough he picked up speed and began crossing the road diagonally behind me.

I stopped and turned, eye-fucking him.

He skulked back up onto the curb on the east side of the street, in front of the other bus shelter, then backed between the wall and the shelter, peeking pensively out from under his hood.

I palmed the razor in my back pocket with my right hand and hobbled towards him across the street.

He eyed my right hand with suspicion and as I neared the curb he darted across my path and north up Stemmers Run.

I stood in the gutter and watched him go, was still watching when he peeked back over his shoulder at me after slowing and then picked up pace again, as if I could give chase.

The 16-minute walk took 32.

Winter is here again, in my bones, meaning the remaining nights at work will be a mixture of therapy and agony.

I recall, in my 20s, throwing up to 120 36-pound cases of butter across a dairy box into another clerk's hands and enjoying it. On this shift, every one of the 20 cases of butter I hefted off the pallet would drop all of my testicular mass into the opposite testicle, as if I have two dueling yoyos for balls.

I wondered aloud to Steevo, "I wonder if my balls would actually fall off without the jockstrap? You know I have to pick up the damned things to scoot out of bed or I'll sit on 'em."

Aghast, he turned and shook his head.

In the morning I negotiated with my boss to let my last 6 days stretch out over January and he agreed. In January I just need to show up and the guy I am training to replace me will heft most of the weight.


The reason I make a deal of this is my sitting time, and therefor my writing time is now limited. Last year I had a lady friend who would post guest articles for me, now I do it alone.

Looking at my writing hours over the past week, I find that the majority of my seated time is going to emails, guest articles, podcast interviews, and about 40% dedicated to writing my own material.

So I am cancelling all training, interviews, podcasts, site maintenance, socializing, etc., other than meeting my youngest son on Saturdays.

I will only check my emails on Fridays until January 2.

I will not approve comments until January 2.

I will not post guest articles until January 2.

I will not make a post here or on Lynn's site until January 2.

I will not publish any new books until January 2.

On January 2 I intend publishing:

-Let the World Fend for Itself

-The Fighting Edge

-The Logic of Steel

-The Logic of Force

During December I intend to finish:

-Thunderbird [I'll send Ishmael the PDF proof on 12/4]

-Man Gearing


-Son of a Lesser God

While I Write in Silent Decrepitude

Be sure and check in on Lynn Lockhart at her YouTube Channel. She has lined up an interview with Baruch and hopefully John Paul Barber:

and at our BlogSpot:

Checkout Helpful Timbo's Crackpot Podcast channel:

Be sure and follow the Harm City Hoodrats heroic run for the Murderbowl Pound-for-Pound Title at:

Listen in with Adam Smith and the young minds at Myth of the 20th Century:

And by all means remember to unlike me at Bart's Taboo You Facebook page:

If not for our hate, what value would we have?

And of course, buy one of my books so that you can quote from it and earn the disapproval of your inferiors.

Books by James LaFond

Purchasing Book Sets

I will only be checking emails on Friday and placing orders on Saturday.

Books I do Not Have the Capacity to Wholesale Out or Inscribe

1. Taboo You

2. Writing Unchained

3. When You're Food: Raw

4. Who Created These Norms Anyway

5. The Pale Usher

6. The First Boxers

7. Gods of Boxing

9. Menthol Rampage

10. The Consultant

11. Daughters of Moros

12. Skulker Jones

13. Modern Agonistics

14. All-Power-Fighting

15. The Fighting Edge

16. The Logic of Steel

17. The Logic of Force

18. Fat Girl Dancing

19. Of Lions and Men

20. Hemavore

21. Den of the Ender [Sunset Saga]

22. Sacrifix

23. Astride the Chariot of Night

24. Black and Pale

25. Fruit of the Deceiver

26. Forty Hands of Night

27. An Arabian Terror Tale

28. Planet Buzzkill

29. Retrogenesis

30. Saving the World Sucks

31. Chinks in the Machine

32. God's Picture Maker [Dark-Eyed Girl Edition].

Direct Shipping

I have no means of electronic purchase and am unable to purchase my own books. My son does that. He is very busy, so orders are filled only on Saturday.

I would need a check or money order payable to James LaFond Mailed to my address, which I sent in the email.

The POD platform takes 2 weeks to deliver, where Amazon, who owns them, delivers in 1-5 days with free shipping if your order is over $35.

Only 10 titles may be wholesaled at a time [this has to do with contract allotments to printing houses], so I will group the books by subject in 10 volume lots below, discarding initial editions in favor of Omnibus editions. For instant, Breeder's Digest and the GQ Mugging Inquest are included in larger books, as are a few masculinity books, so will be omitted. I have rounded the retail prices up to the nearest whole dollar and then rounded the total down to the nearest $5.

Each lot is listed in order of sales rating.

History, Slavery

1. So His Master May Have Him Again $15

2. America in Chains $15

3. The Lies That Bind Us $15

4. A Bright Shining lie at Dusk $15

5. Into Wicked Company $10

6. So Her Master May have Her Again $15

7. Stillbirth of a Nation $17

Total: $100, Autographed $120


1. Our Captain $7

2. By the Wine Dark Sea $11

3. A Sickness of the Heart $7

4. Shorn of Little Sissy Things $12

Total: $35, autographed $45


1. Masculine Axis $17

2. The Mind of Mescaline Franklin $10

3. Under the God of Things $20

4. On Bitches $15

5. Your Trojan Horse $14

6. He $12

7. Happily Ever Under $7

8. If I Were King $6

9. T. Spoone Slickens, Inquire $6

10. Take Me To Your Breeder $9

Total: $115, autographed $130

Literary Commentary

1. Into the Mountains of Madness #3 $18

2. Into the Mountains of Madness #2 $22

3. Into the Mountains of Madness #1 $20

4. A Well of Heroes #1 $15

5. A Well of Heroes #2 $18

6. A Thousand Years in his Soul: Poets $13

7. A Thousand Years in His Soul: Seers $8

Total: $110, autographed $130

Harm City 1

1. Autumn in a Dying City $24

2. Thriving in Bad Places $10

3. The Hunt for Whitey $15

4. Rubbing Out Palefaces $18

5. War Drums $13

6. Paleface Sunset $18

7. Alienation Nation $10

8. A Once Great Medieval City $16

9. When Your Job Sucks $14

10. Welcome to Harm City, White Boy $14

Total: $150, autographed $170

Harm City 2

1. Waking Up in Indian Country $14

2. White in the Savage Night $14

3. One Soul Under God $8

4. 40,000 Years from Home $14

5. The Boned Zone $13

6. Good Morning Dindustan $18

7. Equidistant Drowning Babies $17

8. Habitat Hoodrat: Yo Nation $9

9. Habitat Hoodrat: Ho Nation $8

10. How the Ghetto Got My Soul $13

Total: $125, autographed $140

Harm City 3

1. Lesser Angels of our Nature $10

2. Dawn in Dindustan $13

3. Right on White Time $9

4. Narco Night Train $12

5. The Ghetto Grocer $12

6. Panhandler Nation $9

7. The Streets Have Eyes $8

8. Let the Weak Fall $18

9. When You're Food $9

Total: $100, autographed $120

Combat Arts

1. Twerps, Goons & Meatshields $14

2. Being a Bad Man in a Worse World $18

3. The Punishing Art $15

4. American Fist $13

5. The Greatest Boxer $7

6. Letters from Planet Meathead $22

7. Winter of a Fighting Life $10

Total: $100, autographed $120

The Sunset Saga

Den of the Ender is only purchased retail

1. Comes the Six Winter Night $10

2. The World is Our Widow $10

3. Ghosts of the sunset World $22

4. Big Water Blood Song $25

5. Behind the Sunset Veil $18

6. Thunderboy $17

7. Beyond the Ember Star $15

8. Out of Time $10

9. God's Picture Maker $14

Total: $140, autographed $160

Fiction 1

1. Reverent Chandler $9

2. Malediction Song $8

3. Drink Deep of Night $10

4. The Jericho Bone $17

5. A White Christmas $7

6. Night City $24

7. Ire and Ice $10

8. Doomfawn $6

9. Little Feet Going Nowhere $6

10. A Hoodrat Halloween $6

Total: $100, autographed $120

Fiction 2

1. Organa $7

2. This Design is Called Paisley $6

3. Dream Flower $6

4. Buzz Bunny $6

5. Road Killing $16

6. Easy Chair and Other Stories $7

7. Hurt Stoker $ 13

8. Darkly $18

9. Poet $13

Total: $90, autographed $110

Add Comment
DaveMNovember 29, 2017 9:20 PM UTC


Ever a puzzle you are to me, I wish what rest and peace you may find through the remains of 2017.

Perhaps another trip out west is what is needed? I'm glad that in the end you intend to leave the city.

Old age stalks me too as I turned 69 last Friday. I no longer have to suffer the cold however as I fled south thirty years ago.

Wishing you the best,

Bruno DiasNovember 29, 2017 8:50 PM UTC

I'm gonna miss my daily dose of knuckleheadry.