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America Dog In Print
LaFond's Only Chance at an Animated Children's Classic...
My niece has published another one of her tramp uncle's books.
Please, help the girl out with her college tuition.
I really like the Toby's look on the cover.

Over four winters, the author, a stray human, has wintered under the watchful eye of Toby, the youngest of three dogs residing with their two houses full of humans at the foot of Cedar Mountain. The remarkable antics of Toby, which include his ability to open doors, have inspired his casting in the horror novel Uprising. Over this past winter, the author noted that Toby is remarkable, not just in his ability to understand human conversation and operate some human devices, but in his deep fears as well. Something lurks upon or under Cedar Mountain which terrifies Toby. The author here takes it upon himself to try and plumb the nature of this deep fear in a horror novel, written from a dog’s perspective.
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[fiction]   [The Author in Print]  [Uprising]  [American Dog]  [link]
posted: January 14, 2025   reads: 38   © 2025 James LaFond
‘A Good Man’
Personal Recollections of Some Baltimore Characters: 10/20/24
Below are recent recollections of people close to my writing heart. We are getting old and at times forget. Often a friend of mine will be cued by conversation to tell me a tale, pause, and say, “Please, if I told you this before, tell me to stop.” I never do so. For the retelling helps me remember things I have not yet forgotten through writing and also helps me develop character cadence, tone and diction for novels. I want to hear the story again. The first of these below was told to me only once, the rest repeated to me recently, on its tail. Two of the stories were related by myself to two of these folks in response.
Jimmy Frederick
“It’s amazing that you coached at this school [we were driving past] for a decade and we never met until after you went on the road. Jimmy Frederick had a presence in this neighborhood. Once I saw him in his karate uniform, in his bare feet, holding up traffic with one hand and walking an old lady across the street [Loch Raven Boulevard] with the other hand. That is not the kind of thing you forget.”
-Jason, driving by midnight from the Esoteric Cafe
“I have enough on my plate. I sparred with Vince [1980s WBA Welterweight Titlist] down at Mister Max’s Gym. What do you think I used to drop those two jerks at the [Towson] Diner—left hook, to an overhand right. But I’m not a boxing coach. I teach Kenpo. People who want boxing, you coach and I take the fees. Your people train for free in the back. You teach weapons and help with kickboxing for my black belts. Any knuckleheads or idiots come in with that old karate challenge, that’s you and yours, got it. I’ll make sure you earn your keep.”
-James, recalling directions from Jimmy Frederick, as he stood behind his desk in his black gi
Mister Dee
[In a Northeast Baltimore grocery store.]
“James, you’re wearing a tie?”
[Yes sir, I’m managing this place]
“You’re fat!”
[Well, ah…]
“I saw you fight at Grosscup’s [tournament]. You looked great, welterweight! Now you’re fat!”
[Well, ah…]
“I want you to come train at the school. We need knife up there.”
[I work 7 days, evenings.]
“I have the keys. What time do you get off.”
[Ten, sir.]
“I’ll be here at 9:50. Be ready.”
-James, recalls as the ghetto grocer
“You were in the back, sparring with some giant guy and Mister Dee said to me, “Blake, you need to train knife with that man. He’s a professional.”
No offense, but you were kind of chunky at the time, should I say stout, and I said to myself, because I wouldn’t disrespect Mister Dee, ‘I will stab the shit out of that fat fuck!’ And here I am, still trying to stab you, even while you’re limping around on a bum leg. Mister Lee was—is, I hope to God still among us—a good man. I miss him so much. Him and Jimmy were such good men. In a way, I still come here to keep company with their ghosts.”
-Mister Blake
Mark [Duz, from the Harm City books]
“Mark was such a good man, cool as could be. I had a rough life at the time with a teenage girl to raise on my own. Of course, I’d close one night then drink too much to get to sleep because I opened the next day and that didn’t always workout. Mark, was always there seven minutes early, like a machine. I’d call and say, ‘Mark, I overslept…’ and he’d cut me off and say, ‘As long as you get in here, we are good. I need you. As long as you stay over to make up the work and I don’t have to, we’re good.’
“Nothing upset that man. Even when the two nigs in the Buick ran him over on the lot to get the Tuesday bank pickup, he just got up, brushed his pants off, and looked at them while they ran off like idiots.
“He would never speak to a female employee alone. No one ever had to worry about Mark putting his hands on you. He was a gentleman. Once, he calls me in the office because Takiesha brought up her till [1] before her shift was over. This was right after she came back in the building after her lunch break. She tells Mark, ‘I have to go. I can’t stay here.’
“Mark looks at her and says, ‘Whatever you need, Takiesha. May I ask why?’
‘I just shot my husband. I don’t want to get arrested on the job—juz be too embarrassin’
“He was unflappable, ‘In that case, thank you for not just walking away from your till, and good luck to you. We’ll count you out. You probably have things to do.’
“They shake hands, and the crazy bitch is out the door never to be seen again. Anybody else having a crazy bitch telling him she had just shot somebody, looking at him over a pile of money, might have blinked. Not Mark. The sisters loved him.”
-Megan
Notes
-1. A till is the money counting tray in the drawer underneath the cash register that the cashier uses to take payments and make change. The term till, an agricultural word for plowing up soil for planting, makes one wonder.
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[harm city]   [The Man Cave]  [link]
posted: January 13, 2025   reads: 82   © 2024 James LaFond
Barry
Banjo: Timejack #5.C
2024 Baltimore County, Monday, September 23, 12:20 PM
What a lunch break. He had been hitting this bitch for near an hour now. Barry wiped it off on her pink heart bathrobe and pulled up his pants.
“Barry, do you think Tabar will do okay at his parole hearing? You know its coming up… you still puttin’ in the good word for him?”
He thought, ‘Fuck Tabar, let him rot.’
He said, “A hundred percent Baby, absolutely. I’m tight with the parole board. You know, a homicide detective has swag with them bench riders.”
She kissed him. It was the last Monday of the month and he was Johnny on the Spot with the cash. Well, it hadn’t been his cash until yesterday when he and his squad grabbed that praying nigga and emptied out his collection safe at the Christ Anthem Church.
He checked his phone, which had been ringing while she was bent over singing, and heard a message from some felon holed up in that county motel where those soft crooks were kept on ice awaiting trial. He would not bother checking this out, except the message gave him a chill, a chill that informed him that this nigga in room 31 out at the Welcome Inn was already dead. No way was he investigating bitch disappearances or their dumb daddy’s death, not when that trail he well knew led to the Mayor’s Office, The State House, the U.S. House and for all he knew The White House.
What ever her name was, she was hugging him and asking him not to go, had become a nag like this back in 22 when he first framed up her Baby Daddy, for accessory after the fact just so he could keep a line on this fine bitch. Talking to this stupid bitch was downright painful.
“Yeah, Baby, got ago. Don’t fuck no other niggas and the money will keep comin’—you know I’m a man that knows; later.”
The Sig 9 road well under the jacket as he pulled it on, it always being a policy of his to fuck side bitches with his shoulder holster on.
‘Only the wife gets it without the strap,’ was a rule he lived by.
Out the door, down the stars into the murky early afternoon, and up the sidewalk to his cruiser he went.
‘I miss the Crown Vic. This SUV stuff is bullshit. How can a man look serious in something designed for bitches to haul kids in?’
No threats were close.
He checked his rig and suit jacket, the blue silk tie to match, in the driver’s side mirror. He could still see her lip prints on the bottom of the tie, “Savage bitch, just bite your lip next time!”
Opening the door he looked around, slid in, checked the mirrors, checked the back seat, then reached under the seat carriage and drew his snuff gun, a piece of shit, .25 auto with a silencer, something you needed to press up against the suspect and empty. That went in for a cross draw, admiring his own fitness and youthful vigor on a 45 year old frame. His bald head shone with the coconut oil he used to stretch Baby out, here, at house of ho, 3815, Glen Ridge Road, less than a mile from the that dumb snitch. Barry never, ever fucked around in his jurisdiction. You just could not rust Baltimore City Cops—it was a shame, really.
He rolled west, then turned right and headed north.
“Daryl, piece-of-shit whoever you are, E-rase. Soon as I get your trifling ass to Central Booking you gonna make some friends that will silence you better than Snuff The Tragic Dragon, here.”
So saying he patted his suppressed murder gun, deleted the message and drove, ready to sort shit out, still not certain which way the thing would go down.
Seven Minutes Later
Two shit heads were hanging out on the covered walk to the second floor, where his snitch was, leaning on the railing, looking hard his way and spitting.
‘Shit, cant kill the snitch now. Looks like I’m gonna owe the BGF [1] another favor. Fucking witnesses. More people ought to be at work so that less eyes are on my side hustles. This country is going to hell.’
Barry walked up the stairs and sauntered towards the pair who turned and looked at him, a buff one and a thick one.
“Fuck off!” he pointed towards the foyer door.
They scowled and then slouched through the half open glass door, one of them mumbling, “Fuckin’ City Pig.”
Barry arrogantly strode by and retorted, “I will get your case number and fuck your mother.”
“Fuck you,” sounded the voices further inside.
Barry turned right to open the door to the next foyer and some skinny little bastard was coming out. The twit looked down and away, making Barry suspicious, so he shoulder butted him into the wall and drew Snuff the Tragic Dragon, pressing the flash suppressor to that shaking head.
“What the fuck, yo!” mumbled the surly bone rack.
Barry kicked his ankle with the hard edge of his dress shoes and slid Snuff back behind the belt on his left side, “Get gone, Slick! Go!”
“Goin’ goin’!” chattered the shit head, and he ran out the door.
Barry knocked on the door to Room 31.
A soft fresh, young felon, light of skin and big-eyed with fear, opened the door, met the narrow crease of impatience in Barry’s face, stepped back, starting to mumble. Barry flashed his shield in his left hand as he drew Snuff and walked in behind the small barrel almost dwarfed by the shit suppressor that jerk-off Jamaican had fitted for him. The snitch wilted; cringing, backing up, muttering “Please, officer, I’m trying to do the right thing.”
Barry was not too sympathetic as he stepped in next to the mostly open door and noticed that it had never opened entirely, and that there was someone behind it, “Motherfucker!” Barry, snarled, bending his wrist to point his gun around the door as he reached for the handle with his left hand to pull it open.
The door smashed him in the face and something smacked his wrist.
“Youuu done fucked up!” Snarled Barry as he was knocked back on the bed reaching for his Sig off his right hip.
The clatter of Snuff the Tragic Dragon hitting the floor seemed to slow down Time itself as his elbow hit the bed so he could draw his Sig—except the hand was floppy, numb.
All of his inner narrative, that long and lively criminal conversation he had been having since he graduated from the Academy and started working with the FBI and the BGF, was now being uttered out loud, “My fucking wrist is snapped!”
“I’m blurting like a bitch?”
A man of some six feet and 170 pounds, a white man in black sweats, boots—bad fashion choice there slick—hoody, gloves and sunglasses, a long-haired hippy with beard, stepped from behind the now closed door. In his left hand was a ball peen hammer.
“My fuckin’ wrist you nut job piece-of-sh—”
“Awee!” Some bitch screamed while his knee was being shattered with that hammer.
“Damn that—mmmmm!”
Now the bitch was just muffle cussing with a pair of dirty socks stuffed in his mouth while a knee slammed into his balls.
Barry woke to realize, through throbs of pain, that both of his wrists were broke and cuffed together, that both of his knees had been shattered, with stains on his pinstripe blue pants legs. Paracord was being wound around his face to keep the rancid socks in his mouth.
His eyes bugged out at the man doing this, who took note and said in a soft, easy, even reassuring voice, “Sorry, Barry, I don’t travel with duct tape.”
The bitch screamed like a cotton ball, “Why? Where? What? When? Who the fuck are you?”
The sound of the screaming bitch confounded the man who had commanded so many with his great voice. It sounded, it sounded like—and he was robed of even that observation as the snitch, who was a mere bystander, noted, “He sounds like Charlie Brown’s mother at double speed.”
He was rolled over, his broken wrists tied with the terrible green cord to his ankles. He turned his face to the side. Then a knee came to his back, the piece-of-shit Jamaican silencer pressed to the back of his head. Now the bitch screamed like canned whip cream.
The man said, “No, Barry. Blood leaves a trail, and I only have two sheets and blanket.”
The gun was jammed into his belt.
The knee in his back pressed and something popped, loud.
He could not feel his legs.
The knee came to his neck, a gloved hand to his forehead.
A loud pop sounded and he could no longer feel his arms.
Barry spun in a cocoon of clean gotten and dirty wool, the world no longer such a terrible concern.
Notes
-1. Black Guerrilla Family, the largest and most powerful criminal organization in Maryland Prisons.
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[fiction]   [Whack the Blue]  [Banjo: A Timejacker Novel]  [link]
posted: January 12, 2025   reads: 58   © 2024 James LaFond
Writemares
On Composing the Timejacker Novels: Harford County, MD, 9/23/24
Nightmares, and strange dreams, even writemares, in which I am writing in the dream space and being tricked, foiled, teased, released from weird captivity, and even interviewed by weeds in suits due to my crime of meditating while weeding my host’s yards, have continued to draw me awake this past year. Timejacker began as a novel born in a dream, after having been framed by a phone conversation with Mister Gray, a man with whom I authored the novel Hemavore. He is also the man that suggested Reverent Chandler and the trilogy Night Song of the Nords.
That man has a strong hold on my creative consciousness. Let’s not call it creative, but weirdly mogrific. As a writer trapped in dream I most recently had a knife fight with a bald man in dressed for a day in the Bahamas in a small Pennsylvania river town. His minions numbered a dozen or so blond teenage thugs. I was riding as a passenger in a gigantic truck driven by Mister Gray. The scenes are vivid in the mind when I wake. Then, returning to sleep, it continues. I used to, after finishing a book, get drunk to wipe my memory of some narratives. These do not help history writing or the type of commentary that I actually make a living on. But, I can no longer safely get that drunk. I have been blacking out, not recalling how I got to the couch or bed where I woke. Hence, numerous story lines battle in the brain. I have great difficulty forgetting historical material I have worked on. It tends to get stuck in there until it is extruded by more historical material. But a novel, I can usually clear it from my mind, minus a few scenes, by the expedient of completing writing it. This is one reason why I do not wish to spend time editing and publishing a novel I have written. I’m glad to be rid of it.
The dreams themselves have a single protagonist, myself, usually with no co protagonist, the space occupied mostly by foes and a few bystanders or wayfarers. I refuse to write novels, to execute these story lines from my perspective. It is too much of the same drear perspective, like writing all of the novels set in one city. So, I have taken, particularly with Timejacker and its sequels, to using people I know as the protagonists, and also as supporting characters.
These decisions are based on those people appearing in the dreams as advisors, companions and sometimes objects of a coming journey or recent stay. Authenticity of story is another reason for this. In making a character, one is tempted to craft a character to fit a yarn, or the yarn to fit the character. This is in fact standard practice by accepted novelists. But I am trying to arrive at the most realistic behavior, especially within a story line, that is on the face, crazy, such as time travel. In this way I am liberated by the friends I have cast as characters by such expedients as, ‘What would Banjo do? This is superior to, ‘What should Banjo do?’ or, ‘What should Banjo not do, so I can use that imposed incongruity to generate more peril or a trick ending?’
That last is the standard for writing horror, especially for a screenplay.
As Scott would say, “Fuck that!”
Sergeant Crook and Major Pitt are men who have appeared as judges, gurus, bosses and even hecklers in various of my dreams. So, they were obvious choices for Timejacking agents. Employing [I didn’t want to say “using” my friends, so used the French term for using—you see this here is not her material] a known person, whose reactions and mode of speech are known to me over years, also conserves creative energy for the creation and adaptation of antagonistic characters, future settings and societies, and for the crafting of first person perspectives among the inhabitants of these futures.
Scott Grumman is a man who sees the world more like I do than any other person I know. I likewise wrote a memoir of his youth in a book titled My Younger Self. This helps me do him as a teen age character. This also jives with my dream sense, as I still see the world largely from rebelliously unassimilated eyes.
Banjo is a man who appears in my dreams walking away, or clattering up a rock slide off screen in scenes where my mind is stuck on the far side of the dream, as if peeking into a TV screen. He has been homeless after being driven out of an American city by on duty cops working as enforcers for a wealthy man. Banjo is a far better man than I am. At his age I was afraid of being homeless, and he embraces it on principle.
Banjo once asked me to investigate a woman’s vanishing in Portland, a girl he knew. I could not bring myself to do it. I knew one man, so I asked him if he knew her—end of investigation. I have never asked questions of strangers without great trepidation. I never reach out, not even to help fallen people, stranded women, lost children or injured elderly. I turn away from strangers, and only help my own.
Banjo is the kind of man that does. So I cast him as a worthy protagonist in my terrible dream. A woman on a plane from Utah, whose son had been murdered during the Baltimore Riots in 2015, whose husband had died of cancer and whose daughter was murdered by the BALTIMORE CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT for insisting they investigate her brother’s death, asked me to investigate the extermination of her blood line, of her children. I wrote a single article and buried that heroic notion. When Banjo was in a similar situation, he went against the legal system. He has also advocated for people in other places. When a gang of criminal police began hunting him, and seeking him by no legal name, but by his nickname, I suggested he leave town, and he did.
Therefore, I make my appearance in Banjo Timejack, as Old Stump. That character is a composite of myself and of Stump, my stepfather, who was a reprehensible shithead, but a better boxer than I.
I am haunted by the reoccurring weed dream, and am resisting framing it as its own novel. That friction may hurt other works. I will not place it in Timejacker, as it does not belong craft wise, being off topic, the topic being Chronological Race War. This might be my own sub-genre here, one I am sure other writers will leave alone.
The mechanics of time travel as presented in Timejacker come from a podcast by Andrew Edwards, a man who I have met, trained with and recorded with, who pointed out that our dreams are not ours, that we are not The Dreamer. This suggested, as a time travel device, dream itself, in the form of a harnessed dreamer, one who is separate from the hero, who is something of a writer, a vehicle, a weird weaver taking a turn upon the Loom of Time for a single shift. These persons must be creative, not repetitive, personalities. Ideally, these dreamers would be writers: Hunter S. Thompson, Jack London, Robert E. Howard, who died in their prime or by their own hand or both, souls that might serve as a navigator for a time vehicle, lesser souls, perhaps only as a pilot to get the crew out of a harbor or off a lee shore.
This is the means by which suggestions by fellow writers are written through the good characters of my fellow fighters. Timejacker is an attempt to re-frame the dreams that have drawn in what remains of a boy who a half century ago did little other than dream in hopes that the Great Weaver’s loom might not leave him purposeless in Her yarn bin.
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[fiction]   [Author's Notebook]  [Timejacker]  [Banjo: A Timejacker Novel]  [Nat Star—Timejacker!]  [link]
posted: January 11, 2025   reads: 67   © 2024 James LaFond
Best Selling E-Books?
An Outline of Reader Preferences

I have had some inquires as to the most liked titles and categories available here at the end of the internet.

We have yet to see a 100 sales on one title, but are hopeful.

At the bottom find a a list of article reads and comments by category, which might make the sales list make more or less sense.

Thank you for this very helpful support over these past 14 years.

price sold title category for sale
7 97 Taboo You  Harm City 
5 97 When You're Food  Harm City 
5 79 Your Trojan Whorse  Harm City 
3 48 Predation  Harm City 
25 43 Logic of Steel  Modern Combat 
6 41 Logic of Force  Modern Combat 
12 38 The Fighting Edge  Modern Combat 
3 36 The Lesser Angels Of Our Nature  Harm City 
6 34 Honor Among Men  Blog 
15 31 Cracker-Boy  Histories 
7 26 Triumph  Gaming 
10 26 The Greatest Lie Ever Sold  Histories 
10 26 The Combat Space  Modern Combat 
5 24 Winter of a Fighting Life  Modern Combat 
20 24 Broken Dance  Histories 
7 22 Masculine Axis  Blog 
3 19 The Greatest Boxer  Modern Combat 
3 18 Menthol Rampage  Harm City 
3 15 Blue Eyed Daughter of Zeus  Histories 
10 15 On Combat  Modern Combat 
5 14 Barbarism versus Civilization  Blog 
5 12 Solo Boxing  Modern Combat 
3 11 Book of Nightmares  Fiction 
8 10 All-Power-Fighting  Histories 
7 10 By the Wine Dark Sea  Gaming 
10 10 Let the World Fend for Itself  Harm City 
10 10 Sons of Arуas  Histories 
5 9 Son of a Lesser God  Blog 
8 8 The First Boxers  Histories 
8 7 The Gods of Boxing  Histories 
7 7 Under the God of Things  Blog 
5 7 Thriving In Bad Places  Harm City 
10 6 Advent America  Histories 
5 6 Orphan Nation  Histories 
6 6 Songs of Arуas  Histories 
10 6 Beasts of Arуas  Histories 
12 5 Fiction Anthology One  Fiction 
15 5 Fanatic  Fiction 
10 5 Uncle Satan  Blog 
3 5 Crag Mouth  Gaming 
5 4 Ranger?  Fiction 
5 4 Wife—  Fiction 
10 4 Shrouds of Arуas  Histories 
10 4 Plantation America  Histories 
7 4 Battle  Gaming 
10 3 The Year the World Took the Z-Pill  Blog 
15 3 On the Overton Railroad  Blog 
10 3 Song of the Secret Gardener  Fiction 
5 3 Sorcerer!  Fiction 
10 3 Dark, Distant Futures  Fiction 
10 3 America the Brutal  Fiction 
15 3 The Sunset Saga Complete  Fiction 
15 3 Fate  Fiction 
15 3 Hate  Fiction 
15 3 Time & Cosmos  Fiction 
7 3 Night City  Fiction 
30 3 Z-pill Forever  Blog 
10 3 Search for an American Spartacus  Histories 
10 3 ‘In These Goings Down’  Histories 
12 2 Into Leviathan’s Maw  Blog 
5 2 Ball of Fortune  Histories 
12 1 Within Leviathan’s Craw  Blog 
15 0 Graphomaniac Archive #1  Fiction 
3 10 Organa  Fiction  no
5 10 Den of the Ender  Fiction  no
3 10 Buzz Bunny  Fiction  no
3 9 By This Axe!  Fiction  no
3 9 Riding The Nightmare  Fiction  no
5 7 Of The Sunset World 1  Fiction  no
10 7 Of The Sunset World  Fiction  no
5 7 The World Is Our Widow  Fiction  no
5 7 Apocalisp  Harm City  no
3 6 Soter's Way  Fiction  no
5 6 Behind the Sunset Veil  Fiction  no
3 6 God of War  Fiction  no
7 5 Black & Pale  Fiction  no
5 4 Of The Sunset World 2  Fiction  no
5 4 Of The Sunset World 3  Fiction  no
5 4 Pillagers Of Time 1  Fiction  no
5 4 Pillagers Of Time 2  Fiction  no
10 4 Pillagers Of Time  Fiction  no
5 4 Yusef of the Dusk  Fiction  no
5 3 Thunderbird  Fiction  no
5 3 Supplicant Song  Fiction  no
5 3 SPQR  Fiction  no
5 1 Pillagers Of Time 3  Fiction  no


CategoryArticlesCommentsViews
Blog 4,994 3,833 25.6%
Harm City 3,844 3,479 23.2%
Fiction 1,648 270 5.7%
Modern Combat 1,737 1,688 17.2%
Histories 1,868 960 15.8%
Gaming 130 160 12.2%
Total14,25010,395
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posted: January 10, 2025   reads: 100   © 2025 James LaFond
Chariots Ov Da Gawdz
The Next Evolution of The Murkhan Leisure Class: 10/29/24
The Northern Hemisphere of this now decadent planet of the apes, is in the first stages of a climate cycle of the likes that crashed previous empires. The Bronze Age Collapse in 1151B.C., the coming of the Cimmerians and Scythians in 750 B.C., the Plague of Justinian in A.D. 524, the Little Ice Age from 1315 thru 1816 that saw the political world reshaped and the rise of an empire upon which the sun never set, were all periods in which a slight global cooling was attended by unusually high levels of volcanism, hurricane, flood, drought, blizzard and dearth.
Currently, as I write, I wonder if my friends in Tennessee are alright. The Creep State has prevented private aid from out of state, has sent the national guard overseas, and is killing as many indigenous Americans through hurricane exploitation as possible, even as millions of Machete Americans are being flown and bussed in to replace legacy Americans.
This may all be forgotten by the time this article posts. I do not have the courage to post these comments in a timely fashion. I would like to make two observations concerning the history of the future.
The thugs who used to be called Basketball Americans based on their adoption of an indoor university sport friendly to paved urban areas, are rapidly evolving into effeminate twerps, creatures of leisure and sloth. Less rude, less violent, less masculine, less athletic, even physically smaller, the 16 to 20 year old gro of today, is a mere shadow of his opaque forefather who was captured and robbed of his vital seed by the Mudshark that spawned him. He is atomized, less likely to pack up with other hyenadon manhunters, and is only recognizable as a legacy conqueror, the scion of the savage hordes that drove fifty million victors of WWII into suburbia, by his lack of trust.
As autumn dawns in Baltimore, I have noted this to two of my sparring partners who live here year round. As motorists, they had not taken note. Finally, today, after beating me with a stick for 40 minutes, Vaxx Zombie drove me from the Brickmouse House to Georgia’s place. I now sit upon her porch, smiling at something my driver said, “You’re right—you never saw that before!”
He nodded to a young man of gawdly hue, a slight fellow of 18 years, walking along carrying a skateboard, alone. As late as 2019, the only time one ever saw a buck of heavenly ebony carrying a skateboard, he was a 300 pound bull of surly demeanor, accompanied by two lesser lights, who had recently knocked some sissy cracker off his skateboard and bore this trophy as a makeshift war club, window breaker and door ram. These brutes never were seen riding a skateboard. Now, I routinely see young, willowy fellows of high yellow, off loading from buses and doing curb tricks, also skating away from larger exemplars of kingly Murkhan virtue. I have seen such Tony Hawk aspirants zoom away from groups of low browed indignitaries and otherwise locomote as the gods of old surely did upon their heavenly chariots. This is huge. The general herd of gawdly thugdom do not even run down prey but call it to them like rednecks luring in ducks with a carved whistle.
Three hundred years ago the Sons of Yakub were brought to these shores to replace us, as we had been to replace others, for population replacement is the best way for the Third Party to make money at the expense of the First Party, at the hands of the Second Party, who will be cycled out in his turn. Yes, more hordes are being brought to replace the 50 million who will die from the vaxx by 2040, to extinguish the most hated genetic line. But, most of us will be left behind as the conquered. For my entire life there has been no greater symbol of the submissive host race than the ghostly skateboarder, scooting along in imitation of his suburban bound daddy, who soon lost mommy’s approval in the wake of his urban removal. Now, as the dark steam has been spent from the raging urban hate vent and the sons of the warriors have been crossbred with the rabbit race, watered down to a sissy trace, machete kind have been called to these shores to cleans we the filth from mammy Murkha’s clogged pores.
For five years, many a prepper fellow has been telling me to hideout in East Tennessee or West North Carolina, the promised land. This was once the bulk of the State of Franklin, an all Appalachian runaway zone that wished to be recognized by Murkha as a sate to the extent that they adopted for its name that of the key signer of the Constitution, Benjamin Franklin, who hated their “runagate” kind with a passion. The United States would not tolerate an upstream, head-water state, that could not be invaded by sea, which controlled the headwaters of eastward and westward flowing rivers. These people would be chased down the Cumberland, Ohio and Mississippi to Arkansas, Northern California and Summit County Utah, where they are being rubbed out to this day, displaced by Mexican drug cartels, billionaire coastal Americans and the great leviathan, USG. The value of mountain springs, the hard rock and precious metal and rare earth to be found in mountains, along with the difficulty of rooting out hated hillbilly kind, once moved the English to persecute the Cornish, Welsh and Scottish for 500 years to get the ore and coal to be found there and then export the combative sons of the highlanders to fight overseas wars. Those sons are being exported again as their parents are rubbed out, just like the Nez Perce and Apache of the high deserts who were sent to moist lowlands to die of disease.
The Common Enemy of All Mankind knows what it is, even as we deny it exists. We are its crooked moral timber, its tasty melting pot of misery—we are HER food.
Tiamat is back, dressed appropriately, in black.
01.10.25   David Lodd — "The thugs who used to be called Basketball Americans based on their adoption of an indoor university sport friendly to paved urban areas, are rapidly evolving into effeminate twerps, creatures of leisure and sloth. Less rude, less violent, less masculine, less athletic, even physically smaller, the 16 to 20 year old gro of today, is a mere shadow of his opaque forefather who was captured and robbed of his vital seed by the Mudshark that spawned him. He is atomized, less likely to pack up with other hyenadon manhunters, and is only recognizable as a legacy conqueror, the scion of the savage hordes that drove fifty million victors of WWII into suburbia, by his lack of trust."

Was just talking about this with a hood girl, a couple days ago, she said it herself - all the little "gangsters" out today are nothing, just play. Where whites were in the 90s - still plenty of older tough guys, but the new crop aren't really cut from the same cloth - the black community is today. It's insane to watch the cycle repeat itself in real time.
01.11.25   Todd Ianuzzi — Good news as usual James lol
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posted: January 10, 2025   reads: 156   © 2024 Todd Ianuzzi
Graphomaniac Archive #1
4 Novels and 2 Journals from 2024
Bro,
I love the thumbnail of the crumbled-down one-eyed cracker writing!
For the readers. As much as possible my travel writing is being integrated into adjacent or pertinent history and fiction products. The Graphomaniac Archives are intended to provide an annual anthology of all fiction from the previous year along with the tramp writer's travel and composition notes.
Fiction in hard back will be limited to one edition a year.
Fiction in paper back from Casting Darts Publishing seems to be on pace for monthly releases.
01.11.25   Webmaster — It looks a lot like my dear friend Gary Gerlach, PhD USMC. His likeness will be used in a re-hash of the Man Cave graphic coming soon.
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posted: January 9, 2025   reads: 107   © 2025 Webmaster
Jihad & Agon
A Flash Article By Richard Barrett
Hello James!
I loved your latest piece, “Warrior Performance & Quality: Christian versus Muslim Musings Cormac MacArt, 10/12/24”!
You know that if you publish an article about Christians and Muslims in the Arуan Battlespace, I am going to throw in my two cents!
Long time readers may recall, I wrote and published my second book on this topic in 2015, “All Men Follow the Strongman: The Forgotten History of the Iraq War”.
As such, here are some thoughts of mine on the topic…
Within Islam, we have the concept of 3 Jihads:
Jihad of the Heart…Belief in the power and righteousness of the cause
Jihad of the Tongue…Verbal persuasion to effect above belief
Jihad of the Sword…Battlefield actions to kill the enemy
We see a 1:1 parallel here with Indo-European Arуan practices, the 3 Agons, as laid out by Marcus Auraelius:
Agon of Idea
Agon of Utterance
Agon of Action
However, while the framework looks the same on the surface, the similarities end there.
They end with one word:
Deception.
One of the big things that we see in the Middle East is a heavy emphasis on Deception. Any GWOT vet will tell you this from experience.
We see this veneration of Deception from the Spiritual Caste at the Jihad of the Heart and Jihad of the Tongue levels. An example of this comes from Quran 3:54:
“And they deceived and Allah deceived, and Allah (is) the best (of) the deceivers.”
Another example from extra-Quranic texts comes from Khalid Muhammad Khalid, Translated by Muhammad Mahdi al-Sharif. “Book One: Abu Bakr Has Come”
“By Allah! I would not rest assured and feel safe from the deception of Allah, even if I had one foot in paradise.”
Compare this Arab focus on Deception to its Arуan opposite, the Agon of Idea and the Agon of Utterance.
This comparison can be found in a footnote on pg. 79 of Julius Evola’s “Revolt Against the Modern World” Translated by Stucco, Guido. Rochester, VT: Inner Traditions International, 1995.
“Concerning the cult of truth, the [Medieval] knights’ oath was ‘In the name of God, who does not lie!’ which corresponds to the Arуan cult of truth.
“According to this cult, Mithras was the god of all oaths and the Iranian mystical ‘glory’ was believed to have departed from King Yima the first time he lied.
“In The Laws of Manu (4.237), we read: ‘By telling a lie, a sacrifice slips away.’”
Christian readers may recall the words of Jesus in John 8:32, NLT:
“And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”
We likewise see this veneration of Deception from the Warrior Caste at the Jihad of the Sword level. Essentially, the Arabs fight in a Predatory mode of combat known as “Raizzas” and “Ghazus”.
These guerrilla-type of operations are from the shadows, sneaky, stab-in-the-back, shooting fish in a barrel type of affairs.
These are not mano-a-mano, up-front, straight-shooting Confrontational modes of combat as in the Arуan Ethos venerated in the Agon of Action.
The Jihad and Agon may look similar on the surface, but Deception is the key that separates the substance from the veneer.
Sincerely,
Richard Barrett
01-08-2025
Written at 11:37 PM, somewhere in the USA…
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posted: January 9, 2025   reads: 122   © 2025 James LaFond
Topulation Emplacement
Mo Is Wondering how Widespread this Is: 9/24/24
“Charleroi, PA—a town of just 4,000 people—has been overwhelmed by thousands of Haitian immigrants.
But nobody seems to know where they're coming from.
Steve works as a paramedic in Charleroi. He tells us that vans carrying the immigrants come and go "at all hours of the night."
The above was sent to me by Mo, a female reader concerned about America. I know America to be a lie. What is happening is that USG has become so nigh and mighty that the veil is rent in places that even the media blinded normal person may see.
Across the nation I have seen Africans, all male, very polite, fit, military types for the most part.
Charleroi is mostly of interest to me, because I had my first boxing match in a gym there, the same gym that world champion Michael Moorer trained in as a youth. Such small Pennsylvania towns around Pittsburgh abound in the old railroad cuts. A place like McKee’s Rocks, Charleroi, Oakdale, these are creek and/or railroad crossings without much room to expand. That 4,000 folks must now accept a host that will swamp them, does make me sad. A bit sad, somewhat less sad than the fact I can’t really fight anymore.
In Baltimore County, at White Marsh, three years ago, six 120 unit condo plexes were built cheaply. I take the bus right by there. What I see now, as the many Africans or Haitians on the bus sit quietly, is that the parking lot is full of nice cars at morning and mid day, and that those people visible on their balconies are African or Haitian. Until they speak with their French accent, I cannot tell a Haitian from an African unless they are dressed for church, or if they have women.
At the end of the line, at the park & ride when I offloaded, I spent a half hour on Sunday and ten minutes on Monday this week. In that combined 40 minutes I witnesses three, that is 3, Peter Pan buses pull up and disgorge Africans. I could tell they were Africans, because the women and girls were dressed in beautiful colors, dresses and head scarfs showing off very fit and healthy figures, not a fatty in the bunch. Two men were picked up by a fellow African driving a 70K pickup.
In the late 1600s, Bacon’s Rebellion in Virginia, and revolts and revolutions in Maryland, New York and Boston, convinced slave owners that they must import a more obedient population. Four times the cost of a European was paid by a planter for an African. Rather than importing 95% male European slaves, the planter wanted mated or breeding Africans so he could, with this investment, breed his small farming American rival out of business. This was the strategy that won New England, a 7 to 1 breeding advantage.
Since Ebeneezer Cook cursed the “slaves” of Maryland to be beset by African cannibals for their poor treatment of him in 1707, Maryland was flooded by Africans until the 1790s. In the 1790s, Baltimore passed ordinances to do away with African slaves, as they were used for violence by slave owners against non slave owners, driving down housing values and driving out people not of the Master Class. After the importation of African slaves was stopped, Baltimore became a thriving city, The Monument City, greatest city of all the southern slave states.
In the 1830s and 40s manumission and shipment out of the state of any and all slaves, to include David Holiday, white slave for life, was pursued with more vigor in Maryland than in all other states combined. After 1865 Maryland became more productive, more peaceful, a leader of industry. Then, in the late 1800s to early 1900s, increasing numbers of southern African Americans were brought into Baltimore for domestic help and as a buffer against the lower class European immigrants working in industry.
After WWII, wages were too high, and home owners in Baltimore had developed communities with extended family living, in which houses were passed from generation to generation. Southern blacks were brought in to drive the working class and middle class from the city and into the suburbs.
Finally, as the dark thugs of Baltimore and other cities have been stretched out along long roads driving the crackers from the suburbs they were once driven to by these same people, USG ran out of foot soldiers. During the race riots of 2020, only a fraction of the rioters were black, it was mostly whites working for the cause. The ability to commit organized violence has always confounded the African. The unique hybrid Anglo-African criminal culture in America, which enabled senseless violence to clear real estate, has been much reduced in this population. Over the years since the defund the police program, blacks have become freshly docile, as they realize that when they attack a cracker and then call the police for backup, that the police won’t bother.
The pale bad guy is now able to walk the streets of his gro-ravaged city with impunity. Troons, sissies, tunes, women and money men, etc., still live in peril and must be safely transported by some machine. But homeless crackers may now live on the streets in Baltimore City, a play too dangerous for that since 1968. Additionally, since African American blood has recently been bred so thin with all of this ebony and ivory inter-humping, we now have a weak crop of what the ghetto sisters call “milk duds.” Additionally, this demographic is reducing that watered down breeding rate as they aspire to the ivory tower.
USG ran short of looters and rapists! They must now ship in raw talent. Africans tend to be much less criminally inclined than African Americans and Haitians. The exception is Liberians who come here. That American colony in Africa, is, along with Haiti, the best off-shore African American production center.
Haiti is one of the three small African nations who had their leader killed for not promoting jiveteen vaϲϲination. Of the dozen or so “Jamaicans” on the hit team, all but one had U.S. citizenship! In the supermarket business, it was well know that the two toughest types of team-based shoplifters, were Gypsies and Haitians. Haitians demonstrate much better organic organization than African Americans. Additionally, they have a history of slaughtering Europeans! Tribalism in Haitians is nearly as strong as in Africans. They do not, however, suffer from the White Daddy mythos that afflicts Africans due to colonial rule, which was much less nasty than Plantation rule. If the reader wonders at the Belgians in the Congo, read Search For An American Spartacus, available as an ebook on this site, and know that although Colonial Africa did exist, Colonial America did not, only Plantation America, where millions were broken, branded and slaughtered.
Haitians do not come from a place where government is naively regarded as a servant to the people, but rather a real world where the government is understood to be the strongest gang of looters. The Haitian mind has been prepared from infancy, to savagely thrive under USG.
If I was president I would hand a machete and a handle of cheap rum to every Haitian willing to swear fealty to USG.
Long Live Leviatroon
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posted: January 8, 2025   reads: 147   © 2024 James LaFond
Brutality
New Work from James R. Anderson
James Anderson has conducted a meditation on what it is to be a warrior and also a curation of earlier efforts by men from the past to define the ultimate masculine value.
I liked this very much.
Thank you, James.

Just uploaded a new article:
I've attached a large font version for you as well. Hope you enjoy.
Respectfully,
James R. Andersen

I would not rate a man worth mention or account either for speed of foot or wrestling skill, not even if he had a Cyclop's size and strength or could outrun the fierce north wind of Thrace; I would not care if he surpassed Tithonus's looks, or Cinyras's or Midas's famous wealth, or were more royal than Pelops son of Tantalus, or had Adrastus's smooth persuasive tongue, or fame for everything save only valor; no, no man is of high regard in time of war unless he can endure the sight of blood and death, and stand close to the enemy, and fight. This is the highest worth, the finest human prize and fairest for a bold young man to win.
-Trytaeus 
This is for men of the warrior class. 
Others may find it disturbing. 
Continue at:
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posted: January 7, 2025   reads: 168   © 2025 James LaFond
Rumelian Sellouts
Cormac MacArt Queries the Crackpot: 9/24/24
“The Ottoman elite fighting force, the Janissaries, were originally 100% Balkan slaves. How did the Ottomans maintain peace and order in Europe? Find the baddest bandit leader in the area, now he's chief of cops, basically. There's a whole part of Africa with blue eyes and black skin because of Bosnian bashi-bazouks or whatever laying down the law for the Sultan.
“So, how did the European fighting men under Muslim rule - and sometimes faith - compare to their contemporaries outside of Rumelia?
-Cormac MacArt
In the 1600s and 1700s Dutch captains served in the North African and Ottoman fleets, one with a great red beard, whose name escapes me.
Since, in the Islamic word, ever person is a slave except for the Caliph, who is the personal slave of God, there is a problem with Islamic battle morale from about 900. Turkish invaders of Muslim faith did much to infuse new vigor into the warriors of Islam. Reading The Song of Roland, one finds descriptions of Germanic warriors of Visigothic stock, like Old Blankendrin battling the armies of Charlemagne. These men are side by side with Arabs, Berbers, black Africans. Islam made do with war slaves, such as the Mamelukes, in much the same way that Christian gunpowder armies of the 1700s switched to conscripting criminals for deadly duty. Recall that Columbus’ first voyage was framed as a crusade against Islam, and that his men were almost all criminals taken from prisons, just as George Washington would do in the 1790s to annex tribal territory.
Thomas Pellow, a Welshman, a slave to the Sultan of Morocco, served as a soldier, an officer. Entire ethnic corps of European Christian slaves made the firepower arm of the Sultan’s army. His masses of Black Muslim slaves served as spear men and executioners of Christians. He employed an English slave, a butcher, to execute Muslims!
A Spaniard who befriended William Moraley in New York in about 1730, had served as a soldier in this army, and as a tax collector for the Sultan.
Timur, one of the three greatest conquerors in world history, refused to take Islamic titles he was offered, described himself as The Servant of God, and was described by an Arab biographer, a slave of his who hated him, as “white.” Yet our looking glass denies this.
Chinese Gordon died against the Madi at Khartoum. But the extermination of these jihadists immortalized in a Winston Churchill poem in which he waxed ecstatic over “shooting fuzzy whuzzy in the head,” along with the reversal of the Kabul disaster in Afghanistan, all in the late 1800s, gave notice, that Christian Europeans were preeminent in war. As described in Lothrop Stoddard’s The New Flame of Islam, the long view adopted by Islamic war planners included employment of official government advisors to build, manage and train the fighting forces of Islamic states. Sir John Glubb was one such man.
Our history has been reshaped through omission, revision and plain lies, to such an extent, that one is better served reading fiction written in an age before.
Fictional treatment of this subject is much richer than factual, as the gaslit mind of modernity sees every Muslim as an Arab, when they are of many ken. I have a suspicion that Islam has yet to see its high tide and that Christian fighting men, having become slaves to the dollar, first and foremost, will continue to serve Islam.
My fictional character, Yusef of the Dusk and later of the Dark, is such an interloping warrior. There was something special about the Arуan fighting man that the lesser Caucasian races harnessed whenever they could.
I would suggest reading Robert E. Howard’s Desert Adventures collection, in which three heroes, foremost Xavier Gordon, or El Borak, operate as military interlopers in the Islamic world. Short novels and long stories include: Three Bladed Doom, The Lost Valley of Iskander, The Daughter of Erlik Khan, Son of White Wolf and Swords of Sharazzer.
A strong fictional impulse in the still Christian pulp literature, was of a Christian character such as Solomon Kane [1], or at least a European savage like Tarzan, should defend black Africans against Islamic slave raiders. The movie The Naked Prey, also explores this ideal.
Again, the thirst for a warlord of many races to have a champion of Arуan blood, is constantly expressed in actual combat sports: Filipino, Chines and Japanese martial arts masters have very often mentored Arуan fighting men. This was the case in the 1600s of a Dutch Captain being enslaved by the future Shogun as a warlord. We have a mojo of which we do not even know. When a man who defeated me in three stick fights as a Doce Paras/Sayoc fighter, walked into an event run by the preeminent FMA guru in the world, that guru took one look at the hero he wanted and gave him a black belt, making him his front man, because he knew, this guy was not going to lose a stick fight.
People of other races have often noted that we are crazy, we pale people torn from Europe ages ago, so inclined to back a counter culture hero as well as to perish in some other blood’s cause.
Is this a curse, a blessing, or both?
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posted: January 6, 2025   reads: 160   © 2024 James LaFond
Daryl
Banjo: Timejack #5.B
2024 Baltimore County, Monday, September 23, 10:55 AM
Daryl was awake early, the rain dripping drearily out the window, where he could see that big ass giant liquor store. Though he had a few dollars and a thirst to numb the pain that had infested his brain these long years, he did not dare go there. His eyes wet.
“Not a man on paper a month and already caught a serious charge!”
He shook his head as he sat on the corner of the disheveled bed, “Driving without a license is one thing, nut goddamned Nelson had just robbed a dude—accessory after the what? Shit,” he cried, “Dat rich nigga rob a dude for fun and got his daddy’s lawyer! I got Little Miss Dumb Butt public defender—not even a fuckable bitch, but a human ravioli!”
The tears came in earnest as he imagined being thrown under the bus by Nelson Butcher, slickest shithead he had ever trusted. Worse than that, was he couldn’t smoke in here and going out on the covered walk above the front lot would expose him to who knew how many hard men. The entire motel was filled with dudes that pretty much looked like him, if you replaced his baby face and tears with hard looks and sneers. There might be somebody watching him for Nelson, maybe some thugs skulking on him to take his last five cigarettes.
“Mamma,” he began to whine for that big bitch that didn’t care, who had not been there in court. He had been lucky to get bailed on zero, he half thought so that Nelson’s brothers or cousins could get to him here—but he needed a smoke or he’d keep crying for her.
He was cold all over, especially his skinny feet with no clean socks, half laced into his scuffed Nike’s, as he propped the door open with a hand towel, terrified he would get locked out. Right, down the hall, out the glass door onto the covered walk he went, the railing wet with soot over the white paint, the rain pooling on the long lot a broken leg below. He turned, shook out his hands, lit a smoke, a half done one, put it between his cracked lips of worry with his thin ashy hand, and quaked. A look left showed three hard dudes smoking blunts on the balcony, already into a 40 of Steel Reserve, looking him down hard.
‘Smoke, Daryl, just smoke—don’t choke, not here, not now.’
He narrowed his gaze, trying to be kind of hard, but not too hard so as to get a whooping.
The nearest one, a bad, buff looking dude, saw right through him and began to grin. That one nodded to the skinny one and the thick one, all hooded up in white for the rain, and they looked his way.
‘This smoke is terrible, like piss.’
‘What is that feeling?—it ain’t good.’
He looked away right to make certain nobody was behind him sneaking up, “Oh shit!”
Right next to him was some tall, scary white man, not basketball tall, but regular, beat-your-ass, tall. He had a brown beard streaked with gray, long brown hair under the hood of his plain black hoody. His eyes were behind cheap sunglasses, where they burned blue. There was a knit hat of black under the hood. His shoulders were broad, waist narrow and legs concealed in black sweat pants. He wore black boots, black gloves and spoke softly, “Good morning. Finish your smoke. I will not harm you—My Word.”
With those creep-for-sake words, the man shouldered past Daryl and walked down the way to the three thugs, the hard buff one posting up bold. No word was heard by Daryl but the three dudes were listening intently to what the man must have said in those low, soft tones.
A bill was handed to the buff one, who took it and backed to the railing. Bills were then handed to the other two, who took the green money notes with amazed looks. Daryl wanted to know if they were 20s, 50s, 100s, but could not tell. Only ten paces away, at 19 whole years, his eyes were fading away.
The man’s hands went into his hoody pockets and he said softly, kindly, “Thank you, Gentlemen,” and walked back towards Daryl, who was about to pass out.
The man pulled out a $50, nodded towards the glass door to the rooms and asked, “For a word. For a phone call, fifty more.”
“Yes, yezzir,” Daryl stammered nervously and opened the door to the inside hallway where all of the apartments in this section were accessed. Back to room 31, door propped open with a washcloth, Daryl walked half dazed, and held it open.
‘Grow some balls, Man, this is it, maybe your last moment. You’re letting the wolf into the little pig house!’
He turned as he saw the man make sure the door was locked. Before he got back even with the bathroom door and the end of the bed, he shook out his hands together, like they were both on a basketball and stammered, “Are you from Nelson, Nelson’s lawyer, I mean?”
The man looked at him, “I am not here for you. You are my bait. You will call Baltimore City Homicide Sergeant of Detectives, Barry Garrison. You will tell him that you have information about the death of Bobby, ‘the African Dude.’ You will then stay here while I converse with Barry. Barry and I will then leave and your life will continue on its course, with an additional fifty dollars.”
“What, what about the dudes, you gave money to those hard thugs?”
“What is your name?”
“Daryl, sir.”
“Daryl, I gave you my word that you would not be harmed, that means by me or for me. That Word is the hill I die on—do you understand?”
Daryl was somewhat relieved, “Honor en shit, right?”
“Yes Daryl, Honor. Those men, one will knock on this door when the detective rolls onto the lot.”
He then walked over to Daryl, patted him on the shoulder, with a strong but not mean hand, handing him a police business card with the other. “Daryl, please sit down in the chair in the corner there, and call Barry. Feel free to give your name. Do not mention me. You have to meet here now, today. Your trial date has been moved up to tomorrow—your lawyer just called and told you that. You are being expedited.”
“You’re working with my lawyer, the Public Defender?”
The man smiled softly, “Yes Daryl, as a matter of moral record, I am working with your lawyer.”
The black hooded man stood like one of them scary-ass Lord of the Rings riders, in the corner, behind the door, where Daryl somehow sensed, that quiet, crazy cracker would stay, like a snake ready to feed, until Daryl brought him who he wanted.
Before he called he had to lay it out, “I’m no snitch. Whoever your badass is, you is not an informant. I ain’t either. I will not go to no cops. But if they come to me, I ain’t good at this shit. I’ll say what went down if asked, but never, ever offer it up.”
“I know,” smiled the man, “that is why I have disguised that fact that I’m a Nigerian.”
Daryl belly laughed, “Motherfucker! You got ta give me a minute till I get out this laugh. I ain’t ‘bout to call no city cop with a grin—dem snakes can hear dat shit, will know I’m lurin’ him in!”
The man in the hood smiled, leaned back and rolled his shoulders with what seemed infinite patience for somebody that was obviously set to do wrong to one of the wrongest of them all.
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posted: January 5, 2025   reads: 126   © 2024 James LaFond
'You Fought Great'
Knife to Knife Videos
James,
You've probably been sent this quite a few times but in case you haven't:
Two soldiers get to grips with each other and the Russian (Siberian) manages to bite the knife out of the Ukrainian's hand.
They offer honorable words to each other at the end. What a waste.
Regards,
James the Innocent

Yes by all means post it. I extracted the video and attached it to this email, hopefully you can watch it:
The translation of what they say appears to be:
Ukrainian: “That's it, mom, goodbye,” let me die in peace, you opened me up. Let me breathe a little, it hurts a lot. Let me go quietly, don't touch me.”
Russian : "You fought great."
Ukrainian: “Thank you. You were the best fighter in the world. Better than me,”.

7min knife fight between a Ukrainian and a Russian
kiwifarms.st/threads/post-videos-of-people-dying.86179/page-399#post-20226208
-Guilo Girl

I am unable, with this computer and my idiot brain, to access google drives, you tube or bit chute or the other links above.
I don't know if this was an alley fight at a Thai resort or in military combat in Eastern Europe.
It is interesting, that as much as most American service men i know seem to despise Russians based on American news media, as idiot war pigs, that it is the American combatant and non-combatant of today who denies any credit or honor to the slain enemy, our entire USG mindset to piss on enemy graves instead of respect them for fighting against the massive odds we bring down on them. It is so very interesting that the story of these two enemies to the knife shows them closer in soul then American voters and media grogs are to the people sitting next to them on the light rail or living across the street.
I hope both of these knife fighters have a serene afterlife.
Perhaps i will view this with a tech competent friend one day.
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posted: January 4, 2025   reads: 248   © 2025 James LaFond
Fiction?
#4: Vax Zombie DeDaulle Seeks a Reading List: Baltimore 9/13/24
“Fiction is something that never seemed direct enough. But you, a fiction guy—the first books we put up on the sight were fiction—you saw things coming before others. I’m about ready to read Robert E. Howard. There is so much—entire genres—where do you start with fiction?”
-During a car ride through Harford County, MD
With fiction, your taste is a greater factor than non fiction. The value of Fiction is primarily in experienced perspectives of the human condition in addition to our own. For instance, Little House on the Prairie, and Tarzan of the Apes appealed to city dwellers very much, because the setting was opposite of that which the reader lived. The novelist must connect emotionally and in authentic view with the reader to be able to gain trust that he or she really understands how people interact with one another. In this way, modern soap operas, still popular, are a crime against humanity, as they have instructed four generations of women that men think and act exactly like women. The selling of soap powder and now weight loss medication through addictive story lines with a circular migration of the narrative gate, has done very much to sell anti depression and anxiety medication to women and porn to men. Modern fiction in general is constructed to mislead the reader as to humanity’s general condition. Up through the 70s fiction was more authentic than nonfiction. Now both forms work together in weaving fakeness into the mesmerized mass mind.
For a nerd of your type, who actually ended up becoming a really good fighter, there is hope in fiction. If you never had taken up stick or knife, this would be a waste. Something was done to you non retards in school that disabled your reading and comprehension while I was in sepcial ed reading class for tards of distinction. I the ducked out of school and into the library at 15, luckily avoiding the general contagion. Modern education, through some mechanics I do not understand has been structured as a negation of the printing press and now ether press.
In some conclave it was said in the mid 1800s, “When trash has learned to read, then writing must be rendered into trash.”
This list is no particular order. I will begin with a modern work that is a rip off of an actual confession from 130 years ago. My hope is that one or more of these writers will catch your fancy and you will devour their books. Just as writing fiction helps a historian be more readable, reading fiction instead of news help the nonfiction reader.
-Blood Meridian by Cormac Macarthy is realistically brutal, not too long and rendered in a postmodern friendly cadence. Alone of his major works, this book has not been made into a movie.
-Journal of the Plague Year by by Daniel Defoe is based of an event which occurred in the author’s childhood, which he writes as an adult view point character, and includes government documents. If you like this try Moll Flanders.
-Worms of the Earth by Robert E. Howard, is heroic horror, two genres that only Howard combines. Horror is easily generated with weak protagonists. The atmospheric structure required to place an action hero in terror is a high order of writing.
-People of the Black Circle by Howard is a heroic fantasy in which a barbarian bandit takes on the analogues of the banking trusts that wrecked the Depression Era America the writer lived in.
-H.P. Lovecraft’s collected works, of which my favorite is Into the Mountains of Madness, I suggest as an antidote to the heroic stuff. Reading a Lovecraft short between novels, or between switching from fiction to nonfiction, is helpful. Lovecraft was a pussy and wrote from a physically emasculated yet heroically aware perspective. Howard actually borrowed his fantasy cosmology from his pen pal Lovecraft.
-Phillip K. Dick’s selected short stories should be used like Lovecraft, to be read between more heroic works. This man had brain injuries and did a lot of drugs. He saw the social expression of the high tech future better than any other writer of the 1950s thru 1970s. His Exegesis is a 900 page dream record which you might find of interest. I have covered part of it under the Logos tag on this site.
-Shadow of the Torturer by Gene Wolf is the first of 4 novels in The Book of the New Sun. Try that to see if you can stomach the other 3. Wolfe writes about a future we are entering now, and did so in the 1970s. His 4 volume Litany of the Long Sun is a nice read as well.
Note that quality science fiction is currently absent while fantasy has expanded some and not reduced in quality as had science fiction. I suspect that the Dick’s and Wolfe’s of the present age, have, like Greg Bear, who began writing for the FBI after 911, as the best hard science fiction writer alive, now work as captured government futurists.
-Blood Music by Greg Bear is a genius work that predicts your current condition.
-Poul Anderson, father in law of Bear, was the best historian among science fiction and fantasy writers. His best book was the Boat of a Million Years.
-Robert Silverberg, best prose writer of the late 1900s in science fiction and fantasy, authored The Face Upon the Waters.
-Tarnsman of Gor, an anti feminist fantasy makes a nice break in the list. Read after any lefty book on utopian sociology. Slave Girl of Gor and Priestkings of Gor are a lot of fun. The series drags after Volume 7.
-The Mucker by Edgar Rice Burroughs is good working class fun that is somewhat ruined by the upper class female love interest.
-The Iron Heel by Jack London along with his science fiction stories such as The Scarlet Plague and Enemy of all the World, are highly recommended for a man of your left wing sensibilities.
-Dracula, by Bram Stoker holds up as a chilling reminder of our fall.
-Louis L. A’Mour’s The Key Lock Man is my favorite of his. He is regarded as a formula writer. You may not know that from western dime novels to over 200 John Wayne movies, that frontier narratives have done more to shape our worldview, even if you have not watched one, by establishing the narrative shape of American thought, the grooves of our collective vinyl mind that the needle of media plays upon. The Quick and the Dead was lame like the movie. But Briowne, Down the Long Hills, The Fergussen Rifle, Last of the Breed, Sitka, To the Far Blue Mountains, The Walking Drum, Fair Blows the Wind were all good reads. His biography, Education of a Wandering Man, is very readable. He won like 50 pro boxing bouts.
-The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis along with the transcript of his lecture on modern mind control given during WWII, titled The Abolition of Man are the perspective of the keenest mind of his time. Most of Lewis’s fiction is either for children or is really dense and plodding adult fare. So I recommend these short works.
-David Brin’s Uplift trilogy, Postman and Glory Season are decent reads which appeal more to your frame of mind than to mine.
-Return to Howard is important, as he seems to have channeled the malevolence built into civilization on a mythic level. Reading Howard appealed to my early teenage mindset and seems to have helped me resist the inherent mesmerism by omission that is modern nonfiction writing. His favorite hero of mine is Solomon Kane. I would get that collection and never read the foreword for any book on this list reprinted in our age. Howard’s best short stories are Conan yarns:
-The Tower of the Elephant
-Rogues in the House
-Man Eaters of Zamboula [about 1990s+ Baltimore]
-Queen of the Black Coast [a swords and sandals Bonnie and Clyde]
-Beyond the Black River, a novella that is essentially an American frontier adventure
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posted: January 4, 2025   reads: 143   © 2024 James LaFond
Warrior Performance & Quality
Christian versus Muslim Musings with Cormac MacArt: 10/12/24
Hey James, enlightening stuff,  but I didnt word it right. I meant if there was a significant disparity in performance/quality between Europeans under Muslims and Christian Europeans, when it came to warring.
-Cormac MacArt
I have mulled this question via the warring factions in my own riven brain. By European I will assign Arуans or Indo-Europeans of the greater Caucasian race. We will begin with the Semitic, Punic, Berber, Anatolian Caucasians, those who were all, in every age, bested in war by their northern cousins. To my mind, the race is an adaptation to climate, and the Arуans were superior in war because they were forged and then periodically expelled southward by the harsh northern realms they were bred in. As a question of faith and war we will end by pitting men of vying faiths of the same Arуan race.
First, the Arabs, with low technology, an historical reputation for poor morale and low intelligence, were propelled by Faith alone, poorly equipped, to spread that faith and their language wider than Rome had ever expanded its empire. They imposed their faith on physically and mentally superior Berbers, Germans, Persians, Greeks, Romans, Pashtuns, Turks and Tartars.
Light cavalry, without even bow and arrow, simply the saber, conquered a world for the one and only time that such means was sufficient to do so. The places were the flame of Islam burned the brightest, the furthest and the longest, were areas that had been the scenes of protracted religious wars. Hundreds of years of war between the disciples of Christ and Zoroaster had exhausted both Persia and Eastern Rome. The religious priesthoods of both faiths in Asia switched sides and became propagators of the New Faith. That is not a battle between Arуans of varied faith, but between Semites and Arуans in which the Arуan priests betray their warrior class to become the brain trust of the ascendant sand people.
USG veterans might relate.
From Egypt, Libya, Tunisia, Algeria to Morocco, for 400 years, orthodoxy and some 30 sects of heretics had battled and murdered each other over points of Christian doctrine. Nowhere was Islam accepted more readily than here, where the Latin/Berber/German warrior classes had been subject to the bickering of a fanatic and schismatic priesthood for two sorrowful ages.
So much for the initial success of Islam. In later ages, how did Arуan Christians perform in war against Arуan Muslims?
In our own age of bug hunt warfare faith seems a mute question, with secular atheists ruling the increasingly remote battle space. I will not look for the connection, simply survey Medieval and Early Modern match ups. Do recall, that the apex warriors of the Middle Ages were not Christian or Muslim:
Huns were heathen Arуans,
Mongols were heathen Asiatics
Timur, conqueror of the world and lord of Tartary, was described by his Arab slave as “white” [Aryan] and refused the appellation of The Sword of Islam, and allied readily with Christians, seemingly panrelgious like his grandson Akbar, founder of the Mogul Empire.
The Crusades, [except for Nicopolis in 1396] also provide no comparison, as they pitted Arуans versus Arabs and Turks. During this period, technology increase favored increasingly Western European innovation, over faith and physical courage, with generalship coming into its own as being more important in the Black Powder Era of warfare than in ages before and since, when the very nature of the combating armies and the technology management and extended logistic capacity made a greater difference than generalship. Indeed, modern post industrial armies have made a direct effort to discourage generalship and leadership in favor of logistical managerial weight and now robotic interface.
Let us look at the samples:
The Song of Roland, 1000
Christian Franks are depicted as combatively superior to Muslim Visigoths.
+1 for Jesus
Nicopolis, Battle, 1396
The Janissaries in their early stages, stood better than their Christian foes. The Janissaries were “taken” from Christian families as youths, as a slave tax, but seem to have been nominally Muslim and eventually secular.
+1 for Mohound, as Teraldus the Norman would say
Fall of Constantinople, 1453
Janissaries are getting better.
+1 for Islam
Vlad, Dracula’s Resistance, 1460s-70s
Against Christian traitors of 4 nations and Janissary slaves, Vlad demonstrates that Christian fanaticism combined with ethnic animus and creative leadership, easily trumps the doggedly slavish bravery of the Janissaries
+1 for Jesus
Siege of Vienna, 1529
Essentially a draw decided by extended Turk supply chain.
-scratch
Malta, Siege, 1565
Outnumbered, the fanatical 600 Knights of Saint John hold out for months against the 40,000 Janissary foes.
+1 for Jesus!
Lapento, Naval, 1571
Depleted Janissary corps, also serving as marines at sea are slaughtered by Christian navy.
+1 for Jesus
Battle of Vienna, 1683
Polish Catholics route the Turks.
+1 for Jesus
Oglethorpe in Austrain Service, 1710-20
The Janissaries are now barely on par with conscript criminal infantry extracted from European prisons.
+1 for Jesus
Barbary Pirates, 1700s
Christian and Old Testament Western European converts to North African bag of rats style Sultanic Islam almost always defeat Christians on the high seas, as far as Iceland, and even raid New Orleans to kill a traitor to the Sultan of Istanbul.
+2 for Islam, in consideration of the vast material superiority of the European sea powers.
6 for Jesus to 4 for Mohamed.
Napoleonic Age, 1780s to 1815
In the very well researched and appointed, morale-based battle system of the classic 7 player Napoleonic game Empires in Arms, morale values are such:
Guards: 5.0
British Foot: 4.5
European Horse 4.0
French Foot: 4.0
Old Regime Foot: 3.0
Janissaries: 3.0
Other Horse: 3.0
Militia: 2.0
Asiatic/Balkan/African Rabble: 2.0
What we see here is that the modern discipline of criminal secular Brit conscripts and atheist French volunteers equals European horse morale and doubles the traditional infantry morale of impressed foot soldiers. These, from all faiths, have a 2.0 value.
Arуan conscripts under Islam, Jannisaries, have a 3.0 value, elevated to that of Muslim horse.
Guards, organized into warrior cults as of ancient Heathen ways, have the highest morale values. Elite guards units in modern armies have one supreme deity, the Unit.
Conclusion
Recently impressed foot soldiers of all races and faiths are inferior.
Christian and Muslim Arуan foot soldiers, with the same technology and logistics are equal.
Arуan Christian and secular horse soldiers are superior to Arуan Muslim.
Patriotic atheist volunteer foot soldiers are superior.
Brutalized criminal conscript foot soldiers are better yet.
Brutalized neo-Heathen elite foot soldiers are the best.
Ideology, either racial, national or unit based, are replacement faiths in the functional martial sense.
At the low level all faiths seem to produce cowards.
On horse Christians seem the most effective, and this seems to have extended to vehicles of various sorts. [1]
On foot Muslims Arуans seem equal to Christian Arуans.
Criminals and patriots beat either traditional faith on foot.
Elite units which have evolved out of Christian tradition, through the above professional secular process, and of functional psychological necessity, back into an ancient warrior cult, are the top dogs of war.
Notes
-1. Some modern western soldiers are still nominal or practicing Christians. However, the organizations are strictly secular, channeling religious impulses into military service. Even pious Christians in the military under USG constantly find their faith at odds with their service, with only the interdenominational Chaplain to offer lip service to their betrayed soul. A postmodern Christian soldier is like a Janissary that retained a secret Christian faith under the Sultan’s profane and only nominally Islamic direction.
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posted: January 4, 2025   reads: 204   © 2024 James LaFond
‘Your Stuff—Where Do I Start?’
#3: Vax Zombie DeDaulle Seeks a Reading List: Baltimore 9/13/24
“So your stuff, what should I read of yours?”
-before the computer screen watching Danny Jones interview Jason Jorjani
Below are the books that I suggest for initial reads in the categories that I write.
Fiction
-Beyond the Pale is a religious fantasy in which the character, David Ben Able [not Abel] is based on YOU, my friend. The co protagonist, Heshman Shew Mote is based on Charles Wallace a man who I could never touch boxing and was a reformed criminal gang member who became a devote Hindu. Charlie was also the basis for the Randy Sterling Bracken character in The Sunset Saga.
-Last White Man, is me attempting to write a novel set in Northeast Baltimore a generation from now, by Robert E. Howard, if he had not shot himself in the head at age 30 and lived until 1968.
American History
-Cox & Swain is an historically accurate novel set in Maryland peopled by actual historical actors, based on the work of poets and slaves George Alsop and Ebeneezer Cook and of Dutch slave hunter Augustine Herman.
-Sold is a novelized account of the monetization of three bound souls, one of whom was Thomas Hellier, whose confession I possess in digital form. Bound is the unwritten sequel and conclusion.
-Ball of Fortune is the annotated memoir of William Moraley from 1743, recounting his financial rape by various of his better placed countrymen and his numerous periods of captive service to slave masters, and the human kindnesses that sustained him.
-Advent America is the best introduction to Plantation America.
-Cracker Boy is the best and biggest of the Plantation America series
Biography
-Let the World Fend for Itself, Big Ron’s Baltimore is the unlikely story of how a knucklehead carpenter figured out the social scheme of our world better and quicker than any of the “experts” on dystopia now, including my obtuse person.
Ancient History
-He: Gilgamesh Into the Face of Time is an annotated adaptation of the oldest book we have, the story of a doomed and fallen god king.
The Arуas project I would read in reverse order as the later volumes are less dense. The series is for those who lack the time or reading pallet to read all of the classics and is also an attempt by this floundering mind to grasp these threads so as to see the loom that wove them.
-Blue Eyed Daughter of Zeus, easy read and a summation of a book whose author was slain for writing it.
-Songs of Arуas, a general survey
-Shrouds of Arуas, a general survey
-Beasts of Arуas, examination of man’s relationship with the animals and the monstrous
-Sons of Arуas, an attempt to begin tracking Arуan evolution and devolution. It began with the question of why the most warlike nations have the highest status women and ultimately descend into the most abject emasculation.
In Process and Being Scheduled...
On Substack
-The Son of God, summarized annotation of Arrian’s Campaigns of Alexander, to be completed, God willing, in 2025.
On Jameslafond.com
-Enemy of All Mankind
My first and last book on conspiracy.
This includes a 10 part summation of Propaganda by Edward Bernays and a 14 part summation of David Astle’s history of financial conspiracy. Also included are treatments of Tacitus’ Agricola, Hesiod’s Theogony and Works and Days, being a survey down to works of the present day. I have no expectation of finding out “who” is behind our persistent sorrow and am simply sketching a thought map of gates to whatever it is that I don’t want to meet.
-Decline of the West
My interrupted summation of Oswald Spenglar’s monumental work.
Masculinity in Modernity
-Taboo You
-Under The God of Things, an omnibus of Incubus of Your Sacred Emasculation, At the End of Masculine Time and The Third Eye.
-When You’re Food
-Narco Night Train
-Alienation Nation
This is being written on 9/16/24, from memory, off line, in the mists of a persistent brain fog stemming from what seems to have been a seizure at 4 AM yesterday. I lost a few hours on the bathroom floor and Megan and Georgia were about to call an ambulance when I zombie like rose and went to bed—then I woke up on the living room floor, not in bed, at 8:00 AM. I am losing confidence in my brain and expect to finish only novels through the rest of the year.
Son of God and Enemy of All Mankind are currently obsessing me and I hope not to fail these weird responsibilities.
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posted: January 3, 2025   reads: 173   © 2024 James LaFond
Female Authors?
#2: Vax Zombie DeDaulle Seeks a Reading List: Baltimore 9/13/24
“Female authors, are there any value to them? Should I even bother?”
-Hands above the wheel of the puttering vehicle as we round a bend
There is no sense in reading anything written by a woman since our entire society became a quivering woman in the wake of the USG murder of 3,000 Americans on September 11, 2001. As with male authors, which are rarely ever men since bout 1980, the further you go back, the more they can be trusted, as the gathering lies from on high have continued to envelope and shutter literature.
But, the narrative orientation of women tends to be retained among their most brilliant non fiction minds, while the more enlightened male authors become, they tend to be almost unreadable, like Jorjani. The woman who wrote little House on the Prairie, wrote Jack Black’s memoir You Can’t Win while he was recovering from gunshot wounds in hospital, wounds sustained selling newspapers! Like modern drug dealers, news paper distributors of the 1920s would shoot each other! That should tell us something about the nature of news.
-C.V. Wedgewood wrote a history on the Thirty Years War [the best I have read] and a three volume history of the fall of the English monarch, Charles I, concluding with A Coffin for King Charles. I forget the first two volumes.
-Reay Tannahil is the smartest babe to have put pen to paper: Food in History, Sex in History and Flesh and Blood: A History of the Cannibal Complex are good informative reads.
-Anne Rice, whose publishing house contacted me about printing one of my books, had a great cock blocker babe on the phone, who would not consider me any longer after I suggested I give up my royalties to the old matron of blood drinking fiction, if I might have the honor of a private interview in a seedy motel… Click! Anne watched male on male porn while she wrote her best selling novels, which were very readable. She somehow channeled into mythic prose the blood anxiety of modern sex fiends and the fact that a secret society does rule us from the shadows, from where it literally drinks and now taints the blood of races. She manages to fuse Howard’s shadowy manipulator villains, Stoker’s modern dread of the primitive alpha male, with modern emasculation as psychological cannibalism. I read Interview with a Vampire, the Vampire Lestat and Blood and Gold. “This shit is gay,” as Incognegro would say, but it tracks.
-Alice B. Sheldon, writing as James Tiptree Junior, has her work collected in Her Smoke Rose Up Forever, published by Arkham House. She inspired my nonfiction book, Chinks in the Machine. Sheldon’s short science fiction is genius work. Houston Houston, Do You Read is my favorite story, predicting much of what has been put into motion since her writing.
-Barbara Tuchman is the most readable history writer I have ever read, unlike most male authors, who are usually not men, but male things, Tuchman looks at personalities, not just political and corporate entities. Read her in this order:
-The Guns of August, best history of WWI
-A Distant Mirror, a mud and guts history of The Hundred Years War
-The Proud Tower, prequel to The Guns of August
-The March of Folly: Pursuit of Policy Contrary to Self Interest. This investigation of Aztec, British and American military blunders is charted according to the naive idea that government serves itself or the people rather than their actual masters. We can forgive the old dame for not pursuing the question into the shadows where Howard’s barbarian heroes ventured.
-Reader, editor and eventual coauthor of Will Durant, his wife Ariel Durant may be appreciated with her genius husband, who again trusted to their masters’ good will in:
An Outline of History
The Story of Civilization, which should be acquired in all 13 volumes and used as a reference, it being the best, most readable general history, incomplete due to old age, up to Napoleon. I read all 13 volumes at age 15 in the Trinity High School Library, where I was peacefully consigned by all of my teachers with library passes for the crime of reading off subject during their classes. I recall the shop teacher being really offended when he brought me the pass. While I waited to drop out on my 16th birthday, I read this best of modern general histories, a life work by a readable artist of words and wife, while after school I read Robert E. Howard, Edgar Rice Burroughs and JRR Tolkien. This was key to my triangulation, the fantasy of academic history and the reality of pulp swords & sorcery. The Durants come off as naive from my current vantage—yet they helped me gain this viewpoint.
Anne Macaffery, Ursula K. Leguin and other 1970s female fiction authors were not bad reads. Such writers seem to do well with teenage male protagonists. Pleasant fantasies written by 1970s women I forget the names of included: A Walk in Wolf Wood and the sword and the Satchel.
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posted: January 2, 2025   reads: 189   © 2024 James LaFond
How Can I Catch Up?
#1: Vax Zombie DeDaulle Seeks a Reading List: Baltimore 9/13/24
“The suspicions I had about what I was being taught at age 13 in school, have turned out to be true. But with this field of lies, I’m no closer to the truth. It is crazy, and maybe not a coincidence, that my coach, this guy writing stuff on a site I built but didn’t read, has had his fingers on the button for over a decade. I lost that decade. Now I’m looking for the reading list that is going to crack this egg. I’m reading Jorjani. He’s got a lot of information, and I see where his thesis is going. But, even though he is supposedly breaking out from that academic envelope, he is sticking with all of their science bullshit. I’m in my thirties now and don’t have time to read thousands of books. How about a short list that cuts to the quick?”
-During a car ride in rural Maryland, 9/11/24
My reading list has been powered by palatability of prose. Can I read the author without going to sleep? This was important when I read as a teen until 2 AM before school, and when as a young man I read on busses between jobs and home. So far as I know, no one has written that book that explains it all. The one holy book that does claim that distinction, is an editorial curation of 66 books over hundreds of years, the product of a debate as to what HAD to be read and what was not to be read, conducted over political power. I see that book as more valuable than all other texts, even of those more specific to my quest. To toss it out over nuances of translation or the politics of its formation, is a crippling waste. So, lets take that book, which I cannot name without causing a ruckus, as a constant reference. The problems that most of that Book’s faithful have with being utterly obtuse to secular Power and Lie and forever their victims, stems from not reading secular books and shunning other holy books. The more you read books such as those discussed below, the more truth jumps out at you when reading the Holy texts.
The problem, with a reading list, is the reader. I have read omnivorously, carelessly even, and enjoy authors whose readers generally do not cross over. I like Lovecraft and L’Amour, whose readerships are almost mutually exclusive to one another. So, I have to consider you as a reader on your direct path. [1]
This, if I may larp as a doctor of ideas for a moment, is my prescription to be read in the order listed by a man:
-Who grew up with computers [personal oracles]
-Is dependent on a smart phone [intimate oracle]
-Is too contemplative to trust alpha males [heroes]
-Has been gaslit into a state of agitation [public oracles]
-Is a modern civilized person, who therefore carries a gnawing incubus of Utopianism within his consequently harrowed soul [“fetters of adamantine” that bound Prometheus by the Technologist at the command of the Chronologist] a system process key to its enslavement of humanity. [2]
-Is alienated and as a corollary or consequence has a bitter distrust of power [blinders] and an awkward social orientation. This is key system genius in driving those who can sort its lies, to the social fringe to be negated.
I shall ignore my work and focus on the work of my best teachers. Do note that our language and thought have been corrupted so that we may not feel comfortable reading old works, most of which were written as inner circle texts. The Lie did not become the common thread of nonfiction writing until the late 1800s. Ironically, at that time, fiction exploded as a literary form. This was in part because history had become an exercise in domination via the lie in high circles. Among the low people who were now able to read, was the ancient instinct that nonfiction had not been written for them, but for their bosses. At about 1900, truth had almost entirely migrated from history to fiction. Truth had generally been driven from fiction by advertising, which is writing entirely dedicated to deception, by about 1980.
Note, works that I am annotating, or have summarized, are being left for another list.
Non-Fiction Truth Seeking
-1st: Immanual Velikovsky, Earth in Upheaval, debunks earth sciences, exposes the doctrinal secular religious take over of science in the 1800s and prepares us against Our Enemy SCIENCE, the most articulated lie in the ages old Conspiracy against Humanity.
-2nd: Immanuel Velikovsky, Worlds in Collision, demonstrates the broad based and specific agreement of many ancient sources concerning ancient times, all of which is in opposition to our modern “understanding” as to what happened in ancient times. Here we are asked to trust the witness rather than the lawyer in the court of the past.
-3rd: War Before Civilization by Keeley demonstrates how modern science is institutionally dedicated to lie about the past.
-4th: Enchiridon by Epictetus teaches how to survive the lie of civilization that is powered by the truth of power.
-5th: Transformations of Myth Through Time, this transcript of a 13 part Joseph Campbell lecture will help the sterile American spirit at least consider the truth traditions of our murdered ancestors before discarding them for science worship.
-6th: Agricola, by Tacitus is the best critique of lie based society, being civilization, I have read, and is written by an agent of that imperial power.
-7th: Poetics, by Aristotle is a foundation for grasping narrative mechanics that is requisite reading before the fiction list and should assist in rectifying fiction and non fiction.
-8th: The Book of the Sword by Richard Francis Burton shows how to understand human society from the perspective of a terminal tool.
-9th: Propaganda: The Mind in the Making, by Edward Bernays, describes the tool by which we have been reduced to spiritual slavery. Reading Poetics and The Sword will help this.
-10th: Technological Slavery by Theodore John Kaczinski describes how the tool described in socially forensic terms by Bernays has become functionally self aware.
The Following two sources I have been summarizing on the main site as part of the Arуas Project, and do fear that I will never complete this work. So they are included here.
-11th: The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Edward Gibbon is the best history ever written.
-12th: The Decline of the West by Oswald Spengler informs us that the process curated and investigated by the genius minds above, is inevitable.
Notes
-1. The conversation netted three requests, the 2nd and 3rd parts being:
Female Authors? Fiction and Female Authors?
‘Your Stuff—Where Do I Start?’ ‘Your Stuff—Where Do I Start?’
-2. Zeus Almighty “Time Holder” who literally holds Time [his father] in prison, a great metaphor for the academic machine dedicated to codifying and omitting lies about our shared and veiled past.
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posted: January 1, 2025   reads: 223   © 2024 James LaFond
Reavers, Goons & Readers
Creeping Comes a Dark Fingered Year
Wicked Fortune has had Her way with us since we crash landed in this garden of bad ideas.
This tramp, as our Webmaster has informed me I am properly identified, has benefited from your support of many kinds: books gifted in the mail, messages and calls by phone and skype when i was low and worse, encouraging emails, old style snail mails, meetings at bars, vitamins in the mail, protein powder on your guest desk, beatings with stick, fist and waster, rides to the hospital, even holding me up so i could piss in a urinal when I was crippled, and help lifting the 27 pound life strapped to my deteriorated back...
You readers, who i am recently relived to discover number only in the hundreds, not the thousands, have sustained this geriatric revolt against the postmodern overworld. You have taught me that the boon of being cursed—as i do think a Haitian voodoo man did me down on June 7th, 2023 at Harford and Hamilton for the crime of urban generosity—that this gift of ire from the evil-workers among us on this stage and behind the curtain, is that it brings us to the attention of good-givers, of angels sent to mend the rent. Some of you few readers are such.
Currently the following projects are the focus of this tiny and adjoining spaces:
-1. Plantation America efforts center on a massive three volume work: In This New Isrаel: Sowers, Reapers & Inheritors, projected to be about 2100 pages or a half million words, hopefully complete in 2026. Sections are posting on patreon and include the lives of John Harrower, Isrаel Potter, and Moses Roper and the relations of Mort, Smith and Lane.
-2. The Son of God, Arrian's Alexander, is under way and posting on Substack. Achilleas of Thessolonika has been proofing this and providing name corrections. This is looking to run to more than one volume. Part 1 I am committed to complete by November 2025.
-3. Enemy of All Mankind, my inquiry into an apparent and ancient conspiracy against humanity, is already around 300 pages and should be complete by November 2025. Much of this will post on this site and, for more sensitive subjects, on substack.
-4. A Gaslight Knight, is my current fiction project, all but the last chapter to run here.
-5. Jeth Randolph, of Casting Darts Publications and I are working on Vunak of Antares, a planetary romance, using skype calls and a crude hammer and wrench game system to work out gladiatorial combats between bad asses pulled from history to battle before alien gods. The resulting book will be gifted to Mister Vunak, who we have virtually abducted as a protagonist. The novel will run here and on Jeth's substack.
-6. Adam Smith of Myth of the 20th Century and Coach Finstock of Full Haus have reached out about possible January podcasts.
-7. My writing goal is to complete 8 novels, 2 biographies and 2 histories in 2025. Travel writing will be limited to appendices relevant to these other three categories.
-8. Travel plans for February and April include Colorado and the Southwest.
-9. Time in the Mid-Atlantic will be limited to 6 weeks in spring and 5 weeks in early Autumn.
-10. A reader and one time crackpot podcast cohost may be hosting a recorded discussion in April.
-11. Lynn Lockhart is working on Gallows Born, a hardback trilogy.
-12. I am arranging the print publication of some 70 extant titles with Casting Darts Publishing and three other parties.
Thank you all.
I can only repay you by improving as a writer, and so aim to make it so.
-JL, Portland, Oregon, 12/31/24
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posted: December 31, 2024   reads: 263   © 2024 James LaFond
Black Moon Rising
Richard Barrett, Protagonist of A Gaslight Knight, Continues His Weird Quest This Side of Night
Hello James!
You have distracted me from my own writing with this magnificent piece, “‘The Coming Saecular Winter’ Part 2: Impressions of Strauss & Howe’s The Fourth Turning Concept: Utah 8/11/24” linked here for the reference pleasure of your readers:
It is utterly bizarre, but on my birthday in October of 2024, I found myself reading this book at one of the Barnes & Noble in our area.
I have long been fascinated with this book, as I have since I have been immersing myself in the world of Julius Evola and Esotericism in general since 2019.
I agree with your points 100%.
I have a strong interest in Steve Bannon, as he is an Evolian as well, and fan of Strauss & Howe. Evola, you may recall in “Revolt Against the Modern World”, uses Ovid’s four-fold cycle system too, because…well…he’s a Traditionalist!
What is very interesting to me is the 2005 end date when the Tradition broke.
Having lived this era myself, and with my well-documented concurrent interest in the Global War on Terror, this topic is important to me.
For me, the Global War on Terror is my Plantation America Project. It’s not for everybody, but it’s for me…and the official facts just do not add up.
In my on way, I have written about this breaking with Tradition last year in October of 2023, in a piece entitled: “Where It Begins and Ends: A History of the Spiritual and Warrior Caste in 20th Century and 21st Century America”:
But now, I would like to outline this in more detail based off your article…in a way that only a Pulp Fiction Publisher can…
“#1 ‘A sense of public urgency contributes to a clampdown on bad conduct or antisocial behaviors.’”
Ok…this was clearly 9/11 for anybody who remembers it. It was the Alamo, Custer’s Last Stand, and Pearl Harbor all rolled up into one. A savage sneak attack from a stab-in-the-back, Predatory foe.
Personally, I believe that Saddam Hussein launched 9/11, as well as a number of thwarted follow-up attacks.
Think this is a bold claim? I would direct readers to some interesting evidence found in “Bush vs. the Beltway: The Inside Battle for the War in Iraq” by Laurie Mylroie.
I have had the privilege of making contact with the author, and the findings are disturbing.
As many of your readers know, I wrote and published my second book in 2015 on the Middle East and the Iraq War, entitled “All Men Follow the Strongman: The Forgotten History of the Iraq War”.
I can tell you that we have more records in our possession on Saddam Hussein than any other leader that has come before.
The seizure of 2 million of his documents during the Liberation of Baghdad was the largest seizure of enemy documents in war-time history.
In short, we have more first-hand sources on the man than we do for even the famous Bad Man of the Rhineland…the Modern Age’s veritable benchmark for tyranny.
As I documented in my book, we know from his own archives that he was joining forces with Al Qaeda and the Muslim Brotherhood at the Ideological Level starting in 1986, and at the Strategic, Operational, and Tactical Level starting in 1992/1993.
We also know that he had WMDs…and our own sources AFTER the invasion confirm this. Carter Andress in his book “Victory Undone: The Defeat of Al Qaeda and Its Resurrection as ISIS” talks about how he was responsible for disposing of these WMDs.
Karl Rove, Dubya’s chief political advisor, also talks about in his book “Courage and Consequences: My Life as a Conservative in the Fight” how we found the WMDs and disposed of them.
Then it gets interesting…
In the same book, Karl Rove talks about how after they found the he convinced Bush to DROP the issue of WMDs in the media, and focus his messaging on the “success” of “Democracy Building” in Iraq!
This would have been around 2005…
Here’s where it gets even more bizarre.
In his extensive research, the top Saddam and Iraq scholar, Kyle Orton (whom I have also had the pleasure to exchange virtual pleasantries with, ever so briefly in a response to an article I wrote about him) has uncovered another interesting fact:
Some Republicans wanted Dubya to do a press conference in which he would actually handle the toxic Chemical Weapons in an NBC protection suit in front of reporters!
But Karl Rove dissuaded him of this…
Again, this would have been around 2005…
As you note, “‘A sense of public urgency contributes to a clampdown on bad conduct or antisocial behaviors.’...began to come to pass in the early 2000s but was reversed by Steerage interference.”
The facts bear your observation out!
9/11 and the Global War on Terror had the potential to be the thing that would create “‘A sense of public urgency contribut[ing] to a clampdown on bad conduct or antisocial behaviors.’”
Those old enough to remember that in the first few years of the War, 2001–2004, we were seeing this. I recall this from my own childhood. And documentation backs this up.
William J. Bennett stated that 9/11 and the GWOT would be the thing destroyed Postmodern Moral Relativism, and would restored a sense of Virtue, Duty, and Warrior Values back to America in his 2003 book “Why We Fight: Moral Clarity in the War on Terrorism”.
And this wasn’t just coming from Right…even New Atheist scholars like Christopher Hitchens were getting on board with all this!
But the best example of this has to come from Thomas S. Engeman’s 2003 article, “In Defense of Cowboy Culture: For the American hero, the frontier never closes.”
In it, he says that it is…get this…Pulp Fiction novels and movies that have inspired our troops’ initial victories!
In the article, he further predicts that this conjunction of Spirit and Action would renew the soul of heroic Warrior Culture in America!
“Somehow,” he writes, “These young men and women, certified members of the slacker generation, were battling down Freedom’s Road, not slouching toward Gomorrah.”
But the Steerage Interference could not have this…
The Steerage Interference you discuss is documented in depth by the investigative journalist Kenneth R. Timmerman in his book: “Shadow Warriors: The Untold Story of Traitors, Saboteurs, and the Party of Surrender”.
I have had the privilege of also conversing with this author, and he is a stand-up dude.
He discusses in depth the activities of the “Central Brain” and it’s Diplomatic corps “Face” Department that shares its name with the 50 units that comprise America during the GWOT years.
In excruciating detail, he documents how these forces undercut Dubya’s wishes at every turn, in the same manner of machinations that you describe the Bankers and Praetorian Guards undercutting the Emperors of old in Rome.
And so here we are on the Eve of 2025, living in the Shadow of the Thwarted Turning…
I will leave you with this…
I have penned this article on 12-30-2024, while bar patrons beg “Sweet Baby Jesus” to give the Detroit Lions victory over the Kansas City Chiefs in front of the flickering big screen tv lights that chronicle the final NFL game of this year.
Tomorrow, 12-31-2024 ends this annus horribilis…and it is ending with a Black Moon.
The article above notes that the Moon will return to its normal form on the sixth day of the first month of the New Year…
Sincerely,
Richard Barrett
12-30-2024
Written at 9:58 PM, somewhere in the USA…
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posted: December 31, 2024   reads: 222   © 2024 James LaFond
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