What follows, by way of crooked conclusion, is an easier and more bland, I am afraid, record of a discord of perspective in my prime, effecting books I have read since my 30th year. After spending 12 years firmly invested in raising a family, kissing ass at work, working super hard, and collecting over a thousand standard history books and encyclopedias in order to overcome my weirdness and self induct into the world order, I had hit some walls:
Those who succeeded in climbing the ladder at work lied, a lot, and constantly.
The owners, though they believed the liars, valued the occasional honest employee, but could not trust the poor, and were convinced that the poor idiots beneath them could not handle the truth, and thus lied, veiled and concealed facts and intentions, constantly, even to those few underlings, me among them, who they valued as honest sorts set morally apart from the general herd of slackers and criminals.
Marriage, the institution, was nothing more than a means of enslaving the man and empowering the woman, who alone had direct backing from all governmental entities.
Although I had been told I was a home owner, I was not even an active home buyer. Not a dollar I paid on the mortgage note for 10 years had gone to pay for the $45,900 house!
Although I was told I was king of the world due to the glory of my pearl skin, I was constantly hunted by both black-hued thugs and blue-uniformed crackers.
This later situation, including numerous murder attempts, moved me to a return to the combat arts I had pursued until age 20 when Ed Jones, pro kick boxer, kicked my rib cage in while sparring. My rabid devouring of books on fighting showed an almost complete lack of actual knowledge by “experts” with everything based on theory over actuality.
My search for the science-fiction time machine that I had hoped Randy and Dale could build for me so I could help Alaric more completely destroy Rome in A.D. 410, was now replaced with a search for a means of fighting off the packs of hoodrats that the goddess Civilization had unleashed upon me.
In this state, the books that helped me return to my earlier viewpoint of Civilization as a Conspiracy against Mankind were, in the order I recall, numbered below which is messy as I returned to these books often.
-13. 1982-90, The Devil’s Horseman, read 8 consecutive Holiday’s at my Brother in Law’s as his only really interesting history book. I eventually purchased my own. This slim history of the Mongol Invasion of Europe, was superior in violent vision to any book written on the subject and far superior to any authoritative liberal history of anything, that I sharply questioned all academic conventions henceforth.
-14. 1990, The Shadow of the Torturer by Gene Wolf, a brilliant prediction of where Civilization ultimately leads, to social, physical and spiritual cannibalism by elites of the teeming chattel beneath them. Continued into a total of 12 books in three cycles.
-15. 1990, Shadows in Zamboula, also titled Man Eaters of Zamboula, a Conan story by Robert E. Howard, reread as my working life fell apart in the face of crime and lies, that almost exactly depicted my nocturnal life as a hunted stock clerk in Baltimore City, a situation that continued until December 11, 2017.
-16. 1990, Moby Dick, read a decade later than normal, permitted me to see Melville’s adventure for youths, rather as a metaphor for how Civilization in its industrial form uses and corrupts mankind in his tribal form through the manipulative hand of the Devil’s Boatman of Modernity, the managerial class, which is opposed to all things naturally created by Eternity rather than by civilized man’s paltry arts.
-17. 1990, The March of Folly by Barbara Tuchman, on the pursuit of policy contrary to self interest, leaves a consistent record, in which the great lady of letters, who also wrote The Guns of August and A Distant Mirror, two brilliant narratives, declines to direct her microscope at the criminal actors. Rather, she declares that the most powerful men in the world were routinely idiots or fools, rather than the conspirators against “their own people, and own nation” that they were. Through reading A Distant Mirror, it is obvious that she knew of, and knew not to illuminate, the fact well known since the Pharaohs, that the ultimate enemy of any head of state is his or her own sentient, and potentially awakened, tax herd.
-18. 1994, Of Arms and Men, O’Connell, the best general history of warfare up through Time, helped navigate the general academic lunacy concerning the subject of warfare.
-19. 1996, Reay Tannahill, Flesh and Blood, A History of the Cannibal Complex, Dorset, declined for publication by the major houses. This book squares the obvious cannibalistic mechanics of Civilization with primal antiquity.
-20. 2005, The Broken Dance, Draft, James LaFond, in the mirror of my own findings, my squid like soul confronted my own myopic thug mind with the fact that everything written bout ancient boxing by modern boxing experts, to include boxers, martial arts publishers, magazine publishers and the World Book Encyclopedia, was either wrong, or a lie. Only the Encyclopedia Britannica and Pierce Egan’s [and a handful of other early 19th century authors] Boxiana has actual historic facts. This clued me in that the separation of the American mind from the British mind, though sharing the same language, had as its three majority features:
-A. a good guy/bad guy, white hat/black hat false polarity,
-B. fantastical origin stories, not to be questioned other than in reference to and possible reversal of the false polarity,
-C. that “historical” “inquiries” are not investigations, but “arguments” along the false polarity, and that the source material is ultimately to be traced to popular news stories or government/elite funded academics, in which actual facts are omitted, slanted or distorted to conform to the false polarity.
This has driven me back to the ancients, which, for the most part, did not begin lying to use down these stairs of Time until about 1700, in order to ascertain as much as possible about our past, present and future. I conduct these inquires in shame for having been mislead by our evil masters through my youthful 20s and mature 40s, only to get down to some serious work 2 years after a negative epiphany experienced while holding a clipboard and wearing a blue shirt and black tie that, I was forever, not as smart as I had been the day before. I immediately began writing a science-fiction novel as an escape from the cerebral corruption engine as I plotted an escape from its economic gripes.
Thank you all for facilitating this escape, for how so ever i remain on the lam.
-James, 5/9/24, the day of Mister Grey, our videographer's return.
