198 pages, no publication date

This ascensionist book is framed like so:

The cover art seems a unique piece of creation by Owen Cyclops. The metallic wave that frame’s the white-hot fire at the base of a red rock mountain, with a palm in the margin and stars raging hopefully in the firmament, is evocative and pleasing.

The back cover has a thumbnail of the cover art, the artist credit and the sensual-cryptic dustcover:

“Return of the spirit of the Bronze Age. Purification of the world. National nudism.”

Suffice it to say that the book itself, its presentation and philosophy, has three elements of current cultural dissent:

-1. Anonymity

-2. Recognition that human life has become a social, metaphysic and ecological sewer

-3. Pre-apocalyptic, prayer for the “sweet meteor of death” to wipe the vile slate of man’s domesticated degeneracy clean and reboot humanity

I find that all of these three elements fit nicely. For the fact that no young man, who does not advocate a proactive police state, can possibly use his own name in print, or audio and expect to hold down even a modest station in the economic halls of monetized souls, is telling.

This book was mailed to me by a kind soul who appended the mailing with the following text:

“You’re welcome. Per my earlier email, with [name of author redacted]…..n’s primer, the book, (esp intro) can be very off putting for many. But if you get through it I would like to hear what you think. It has captured the imagination of many young men, which I found encouraging.”

-Mindanowl, Tuesday, February 2, 2021

I read the 5-page prologue on February 2nd and then read the balance of the book, last night, Saturday the 6th, and very much enjoyed it.

Bronze Age Mindset has as its premise that the remnant culture of power, creativity and ascension—as distinct and opposite from the reductionistic invalidation of postmodern media culture, and especially distinct from the money-grubbing debasement of Modernity proper which propelled us down into this “sinkhole city” of the scrubbed soul—comes directly down to us from the Bronze Age, a period from roughly 2,500 to 1200 B.C. which saw the composition all of the greatest and most enduring works of human literature. It was also an age when the average crew of an oared boat was far superior than the Olympic champions of our degenerate day, when hoplites could fight for a hundred times longer than our NFL players can play, when men were men and women were satisfied with them.

I know nothing about the author, not his voice, face, name or place of origin. My impression from the text is that he is about 40, that he was born to the upper-middle class or lower elite, that he was university educated, that he is well-read in classic and archaic Hellenic literature, has a good grasp of the major metaphysical disciplines of the ancient world at the level of Will Durant, though, like I, falling short of Jason Reza Jorjani’s expertise or Robin Lane Fox’s empathy.

Bronze Age Pervert strikes me, as an author, as a man who in an earlier age might have been a Robert E. Howard or Jack London type promethean author of heroic fiction, might have written Ben Hur in an age before that, and before that might have sailed with Nelson or Cochrane or ridden with Murat or Ney against them.

This is a sullied exhortation—and knowingly so by the author, who declares numerous acts of crass dominance, such as offering to masturbate next to a friend driving him to a city as a test to see how debased the friend was, and then sadly discovering that the friend was a dead soul haunting a husk of a form.

Finally, in the final phases of this exhortation against the doomed, the author explains his handle, Bronze Age Pervert, in terms that the author of the story of Lot would have understood, though balked at. In a world willingly, and disgustingly peopled by the doomed, than those bred here in this field of duplicitous sorrow and giddy complaisance who count ourselves among the damned, offer hope, hope that in our social suicide, that perhaps a new age of supra-state piracy, a new Bronze Age Collapse, might scrub clean the filth of the world, beginning in its sewers.

This passionate man seems to have spent a decade at least, prefacing his book. So I do not want to steal any of his fire, but rather encourage you to read his work. I very much liked his quotations of my favorite Hellenic poets, and especially the Cretan Spear Song and below, quote a few of his lines from among the 27 quotes I earmarked in the book margins:

-page 3: “Victory to the gods!”

-page 10: “You understand both left and right have been fooled about what is life.”

-page 11: “The most noble animals refuse to breed in captivity.”

-page 109: “Cannibalism is the way of all yeast life, to which the human animal degenerates under these conditions of gynocracy.”

-page 111: “…in the heroic expanse of the Old Stone Age…lived men of power and magnificence…”

-page 163: “Liberation of women means freedom and power for financiers, lawyers, purveyors of comforts in and out of government, employers who whore out your wife and daughters.”

-page 196: “…the path to overturning everything corrupt, and the path to the great purgatation.”

The anonymous bodybuilding advocate suggests basic physical vitality as a launching pad for the deconstruction of slave-based delusion in which our Information Age suffuses us, in order to summon like warriors with the sword returned to hand the ancient coopted powers out of the pentagonal precincts of the sorcerers, to usher in a return to a physical age of reality, that will wash Holy Weakness and the lies Weakness nourishes away in a great cleansing.

A latter day Noah should build he an ark of heroic form.