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The Kin
Pyreon #6
“Pull!” sounded a loud, shrill, man’s voice—and Ted felt his right ankle snared in wire, wire that bit into the uppers of his tactical boots, barbed wire, and he was slammed to his back. The snort of a mule sounded and three voices, shrill male voices, shouted, “Yehah!” and Ted was dragged across crisp snowy grass, hurtful rocks, and finally into the side of the steel-rimmed pool, with a dull thud.
His groin hurt, his neck, his back. He dialed his optic out to range with his right hand as Bad Girl screamed for attention. Ted was dragged away from the steel pool wall and his foot was yanked high and he drew her, Bad Girl, ready for action, cocked her trigger, then was yanked high in sync with the first voice yelling, “That’s it, Boys!”
Ted was hauled high and swung to the right, where his gun hand was slammed into the pump stanchion and his head too, Peep Girl blinking out and Bad Girl clattering and lost below.
There he hung, upside down, twisting on his right foot, a mule standing off to the north, a mule he had dumb-like mistook for a cow as he focused on the well remission.
Three men dressed in cowhides, complete with a cow head hood, closed in on him from the west, where cattle, and a bull, did remain grazing.
The men looked like brothers, tall, lean, wide-shouldered, long of hair and blond. The eldest, in the middle, approached first, picked up the top five feet of the pump rod and said, full of menace, “Well, now, boys, if it ain’t Ted the Fed!”
Ted looked at the man as he approached and Mumbled, “I have a sled o’ HDRs fer ya—dat were next conduction, I think.”
“Boyyy, what we wanna eat that dog food for!? You done fouled our well! Now we gonna have ta drive cattle on foot, since you all boss kind saw fit to introduce da equine flu!”
“Sorry,” mumbled Ted, right before the rod sizzled into his left knee, cracking the cap. He reached for his machete and had his hand smacked and near broken. Then he was twisted in six hands and his machete and knife were taken.
“Baby Girl, I could use a little help here!”
The ETV hummed, beeped, and then drove off a distance.
“What da blazes—its true, Ted the Fed talks to machines and, well, that bitchin’ bike seems fed up with your fed shit, don’t she, Ted! Even your gadgets know you suck!” he did snarl must unfriendly.
A hand grabbed his left hand and another Mamma, and she screeched. The hands left him as a man howled in pain, “Damn, that watch burned me.”
Psycho Girl was silent, had let these sneak him and now didn’t even bother with the burn.
“No, don’t bother with the spy glass either, bet that shit will burn.”
“What we gonna do,” asked the third voice, as the second moaned in pain.
“Kendell, what we gonna do is punish this enemy of us all, this retarded man-hunter done pushed us to extinction!”
The rod, a hollow pipe, whistled and Ted felt it bend over his head, knocking Peep Girl loose with a cold shot of pain, blood dripping down into his hair, since he was upside down and couldn’t even bleed properly.
“Look at that Uplift belt Buckle, you see that shit, storing the souls of the dearly rounded up widows and widowers and orphans!”
Ted groaned, “Oh Mamma.”
The men laughed, the second one, the burned one, with the big voice, growling, “Been burned by a Mamma’s boy,” and a big fist smashed into his groin sending Ted into a spasm of nauseating pain as he swung and his right knee was smacked with the rod.
Ted was being punched and whacked and kicked and swung into the stanchion. He held his right hand over his eye and shoved Mamma on his left hand behind the belt buckle to protect her. The punches from the big man were so strong that some ribs gave way and cracked under his armor on the left side.
They were breathing heavy.
“Break time, boys.”
There he swung, blood dripping into his eyes from his nose, which squirted with every beat of his heart.
“Let him see, let Ted the Fed go to the database in the sky knowin’ who done him in!”
The two big strong hands pressed him up, so he was bent. As he was held there, his left hand in his groin, he looked into the face of two rugged looking men of great strength and grit, dressed in denim, leather and hide.
The leader said, “Ted oh Fed, meet The Kin. Kent is da big mug holdin’ you up. I’m Kendel, and this here dead-eye shot next to me, Kenneth. We are the KKK!”
Ted had no idea what that KKK was and looked on dumb, “Oh,” admiring the flint lock pistols in Kenneth’s belt and noting a stand of three flint lock rifles.
“That’s right, Ted, we could have sniped you, even before you did in Travis, that idiot—but spending the night with Brie was the last straw. I had hopes of marrying that hussy—now ruined with your rancid seed.”
Ted simply wanted to die, was overcome by quit, and went loose, “I’m sorry, Mamma,” he drooled and gave in to those great hands holding him, hands that tensed in disgust and pushed him into the stanchion, jamming his right shoulder. There he swung, taking more kicks and rod blows.
Psycho Girl burned with ire in his brain, his right eye flamed with pain and his left hand burned like something that could not be doused with the hardest rain. His nose splattered, knocked over under his left eye, blood spraying.
“Sit up, fool,” squawked Psycho Girl, from his mouth, and he did so, doing a sit up that caused the swinging rod to miss his head it would have smashed. He grabbed the barbed wire above his feet with both hands, hands now impaled with small steel barbs through his thin silicon gloves.
He was whacked in the lower back with the rod, his legs going numb. Then he ripped his right hand and left hand free, each seeping with blood from the glove cuffs as he climbed the wire, getting the rhythm of missing the barbs. He now stood on his right foot, out of reach of abuse, so he could at least be shot.
“Shoot off a foot for me, little brother,” commanded Kendel to Kenneth.
Then a screech came from Mamma and was answered by a song of steel, a bird song, a single long scree, like a metal hawk.
“I’ll be good and goddamned,” growled Kendel, looking above Ted, who looked above also.
There Ted saw, ten feet above him, hovering over the rooster weather main and windmill, whirling in the breeze, the HEAT drone from the colony of whackados.
Kenneth drew both of his pistols and fired, one slug thudding into Ted’s chest, and cracking another rib, and the other apparently missing the winged terror above.
The HEAT drone’s eyes glowed green and four darts shot out, two from each wing. The three men were running for their stacked rifles when each was hit in the back with a dart, Kenneth with two. The men screamed, twisted, cried and moaned, down on their knees, as the white phosphorus was injected into them.
It was horrible. Ted later refused to describe the details of the minute-long deaths of those vicious Mountain Men he so admired for their freedom, for the time it did last.
Baby Girl had eased up to the stanchion and released two crab drones to climb the structure and free their meat pilot.
Debriefing
What would be the point?
My conductor is nearly wrecked, physically and mentally.
-M. Styer
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posted: June 14, 2025   reads: 17   © 2025 James LaFond
‘Alleluia’
Considering Biblical Parallels in The Odyssey: 3/27/25
The Odyssey, on this most recent listen, reveals it as even more faith-focused than the Iliad, which is the most religious war story I have read, by far. Roughly every second verse among protagonists and supporting characters and adversaries, speaks of God, gods, prayer, heaven, providence, fate, and sacrifice. Religious statements are more frequent per word than Bradford’s or Mourt’s relation of the founding of Plymouth Colony, cited by historians as the foundation of America as a Christian nation—America’s most holy prequel.
As a writer of sequels, it seems to me that Homer composed the Odyssey as an examination of God’s words to his lesser lights of heaven [angels in Christian context] that man is the most sorrowful creature upon the earth, a being of suffering, and that the least He could do to relieve some portion of this was to test such men in the hopes that they would gain everlasting fame among future men, and hence enjoy the only kind of immortality available to mortals.
Odysseus, the “Grieved-lord,” is most often referred to as “That Man” by his family and fellows. He is never for a loss in a tight spot. He is said to have been named after slaying a boar which wounded him on sacred Mount Pharnassus in his youth, “The man of all odds.” He is described as the “most unlucky” “unhappy” man in the world. He is a combination of an afflicted Job, hunted Paul, wandering Jonah and triumphant David.
God is a harsh father who gives good and bad to men in the world. The term God is usually applied to Zeus, sometimes as an aggregate of all heavenly powers as a concept, and about five times in reference to Poseidon, brother of God Almighty Zeus. Zeus, Poseidon and Hades, the three Sons of Time, rule Creation between them: Poseidon the sea, Hades the underworld and Zeus Heaven and Earth. Zeus, through his primary exhibition of power, storm, cloud and thunder and his command of the Winds has significant control of the sea, its surface at least, and men upon the “broad back” of “the fish-giving sea.” Genesis, 4, I think, describes God activating a generative force of the sea in such a way as to indicate a secondary, subservient power to the Lord of Heaven and Earth.
The following are quotes from The Odyssey, a book which mentions God, heaven, heavenly power, prayer and observations of faith far more often per wood then any book of the Old Testament. The Odyssey, like Ovid’s Metamorphoses, seem to beg for a heaven-sent savior to take up man’s cause, especially in view of the underworld. The Greeks of Homer never ate or drank wine without a prayer and their prayers, when in the presence of women, were greeted by an earthly chorus of praise to God, “Alleluia!” The heroes of the ancient Greeks, minus a few damned souls such as Ajax who questioned God, were more pious than any Biblical figure predating Christ, except for David, author of Psalms, who would have fit in in the pious halls of Dark Age Hellas as a bright light worthy of an Odysseus.
The Odyssey:
General:
“Born to sorrow if any man was”
“the wrath of God”
“Fear God”
“The Spinner” [Fate, taken up as an aspect of God in Christian poetics, with Beowulf describing God on His War Loom weaving men’s fate.]
“Snatchers” phantoms that abduct oath-breakers and sinners to the Underworld
“Avengers” who punish sinners in the Underworld
Sayings
“Bold as brass”
“Tramping to the devil”
“A ravenous belly cannot be hid, damn the thing”
“Catch ‘em Ecotosh, the bogie king, who chops men into mince meat” [mentioned 4 times]
“The drops of grace” [wine poured to the gods]
Notable Statements
“Made her tall and full and more white than polished ivory,” on a divine restoration of Penelope’s beauty even as her husband is restored by turning his pale old skin into richly tanned skin, “glossy like the skin of a dried onion.”
“I wind my schemes on my distaff.” [Penelope]
“A groom to carry each earring.” [Slaves given as a compliment to a gift given, marking the earrings as more valuable than those two human lives.]
Chapter Quotes, mostly from dialogue, which had to have been rendered believable for Homer’s audience to enjoy the tale. The quotes are only a portion of the many and nearly constant reference to heavenly power. Composing in about 720 B.C., Homer reflects an ethos close to that of feudal Europe, with many small towns and kingdoms abiding by a universal faith governing the moral tenor of their interactions.
Book 2
“This is God’s will.”
Book 3
“Thanks be to God.”
“God scattered the fleet.”
“God made smooth the great billows of the deep.” [Not Poseidon, but Zeus Time-holder Almighty.]
“We prayed God to show us.”
“By the voice of God.”
“If it should be the will of God.”
Book 4
“Zeus Olympian in his infinite wisdom.”
“Too much happiness for God to grant.”
“God gives good fortune or bad fortune.”
“God willing or not,” [The damning curse of Ajax.]
“The Lord God.”
Book 8
“God Crowns his words.” [Possibly in reference to Apollo.]
“God has been generous to you and inspired your song.” [Later the litmus test for including of Gospels in the Bible.]
“God can do it or not do it, as he pleases.” [Reference to Poseidon.]
Book 9
“God gave us what we wanted.”
“God walks with him to see he gets no wrong.” [See Enoch and Exodus]
“God made him do it.”
“God breathed great courage into us.” [This may be in regard to Athena, who is described as closest to Zeus Almighty, to understand his will with no explanation, and to carry his power to Earth and Sea, an aspect of God said to have been born from his head, and referred to often as Tritagenea. Scholars disagree if this means “of the sea” or in reference to her place in a Trinity. She bears his storm shield. His messenger is Iris “Storm-foot,” very much a minor angel like those who warned Lot.]
“Clouds and darkness are all about him and he rules over all.” [Compare to Exodus and the God of the Covenant.]
Book 11
“God will make your journey hard and dangerous.” [Of Poseidon.]
“Come and praise God.”
“Thanks be to heaven.”
Book 15
“Zeus, loud-thundering Lord of heaven.”
“God’s messenger, Hermes,”
Book 16
“The destiny God spun for him.” [This departs from the traditional view that God only knows what Fate has spun, and places him at the loom, a practice in pagan-to-Christian poetic adaptation.]
“No one but very God.”
“By the grace of God.”
“What comes from God none can avoid.”
“Inquire the will of God,” [Uttered by a man plotting murder.]
Book 17
“God forbid.”
“Suppose there really is a God in heaven?” [The first atheist, among the murder plotters?]
“Affront the brazen sky.” [To challenge heaven with human hubris.]
“May God blast them before they do any harm.’
“I will do my best with God’s help.”
“Brought by God to our very doors.”
“Zeus all-wise takes away half his sense when slavery is upon him.”
Book 18
“God will spare me.”
Book 19
“A king who is a God-fearing man and rules over a mighty nation.” [Zeus often speaks of being feared, yet it is unclear if this statement should read god-fearing. They all frighten me.]
“Many call him blessed.”
“Men quickly grow old in evil days.” [Compare to Exodus when Moses and God speak of God working evil among men and Moses’ transformation upon seeing God.]
“God has robbed him of his return.”
“A child of many prayers.”
“The will of God.”
“Leave the rest to God.”
Book 20
“How God sent omens of the wrath to come.” [Often eagles, sometimes thunder without clouds.]
“May God punish them.”
“God’s wrath.” [The entire book is about faith in heaven and God’s wrath upon sinners, Odysseus merely a tool of heaven. See below.]
Book 21
“If God shall destroy all these men by my hand.”
“God will give the victory to who he will.” [Athena, playing the angel of God, working his will through a man, only one man at a time, including various persecuted prophets who aid the hero.]
I trust the above samples help the reader in their consideration of the Bible, particularly Job, Judges, Exodus and Psalms, in light of the fact that the Gospels were brought to us through the Greek word, by men educated in Homer, Hesiod and Ovid.
This effort is an effort at a contextual backdrop to the faith of Alexander as described in Arrian’s Expedition of Alexander and examined in The Son of God, an amplification of that work.
Notes
Other treatments of the Odyssey will focus on ethnology, geography and the afterlife.
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posted: June 13, 2025   reads: 58   © 2025 James LaFond
Sinews of War
Considering the Agrianes #5: With Lynn Lockhart
“James, a pair of bronze statues of Greek make in Italy have been recovered by divers. They are savagely sinister in appearance, the left arm raised as if fitted with a shield. One academic, a female professor, commented that these were obviously fantastical images, as no man before steroids would be able to get that muscular…”
“How much do I think they would weigh if they were 5’ 10”? Oh, 175, maybe 180, a bit light in the legs by modern strength standards, but with wide shoulders and big chests.”
-Lynn
MiLady, by modern strength standards you mean “non-fighting” standards. You just described numerous middleweight to light heavyweight boxing champions, or welterweight to middleweight MMA fighters and many standout MLB outfielders and short stops. Just like modern scholars deny Alexander understood war, and boxing writers deny that ancient gauntlet boxers or early modern bare-knuckle fighters knew how to box, so the full spectrum defamation continues in the hands of our gate keepers. Right now, I am living with a 22 year old man, a soldier, who is up for Special Forces selection. He runs 40 miles with a 50 lb ruck on—runs, does it in a couple hours. He is 5’ 10” and 190, looking to trim down to 185 for selection, so he has 10 pounds of muscle to lose in the field and still be strong, putting him at 175, just what you described.
Major Wolf, who has made it into many novels, was a Major and Acting Colonel in the Army Rangers. He told me that the perfect Ranger was 5’ 10” to 6’ 1”, “maybe 6’ 2”, no more” and 165 to 185, “ranger lean.” He told me this as we traversed this mountain above me, me having a hard time keeping up, even though I was more fit and my knees were not ruined from jumping out of planes. The length of your stride means a lot cross country, the shorter legs working harder, burning more food, stretching tendons and nerves. My stretched femoral nerves do have some relation to doing shift steps and counter march steps as long as possible so I could cover as much ground in stick fighting as the taller men I dealt with. I learned this while rehabing.
Standard walking is 4 miles per an hour, what I do, superior 5, elite 6 and up. In multiple hours this makes a deadly difference when trying to take killing ground first. We are told that ancient people, anybody before mass diabetes created by the USG Food Pyramid, was tiny, when they were not. Only born slaves were short, such as the 5’ 6” inch British soldiers that fought under 5’ 10” inch officers against 6 foot Zulus in the 1870s. It was about the childhood diet.
The French army had a standard of 5’ 7” inches in the 1700s. Officers complained that man as small as 4’ 10” [gutter waifs] were being conscripted and sent to them in New France? The Indians they were supposed to fight were so big that they were hired to go round up the runaways, scooping them up like pedophiles nabbing children.
Much of the mobility advantage by Indians and frontiersmen over soldiers of the 1700s, was their meat-eater height advantage over the bread and beer fed soldiers. For uniform marching and dressing the armies wanted men between 5’6” and 5’9” in the regular ranks. Grenadiers had to be 5’ 10” or taller, to throw the grenade, and again for equipage. Only one size of shoes and uniforms were made for each troop type! These men would march at a higher rate. Grenadiers were also used as pressmen and to catch deserters, who could not out pace them.
Danial Boone was 5’10”, as was Blue Jacket, Tecumseh, Simon Girty, Lewis Wetzel and Rogers, with other frontier heroes taller, with Kenton 6’4”!, Liver-Eater 6 feet. They ate meat.
Rome also had standards for its legions, 5’ 7”, I think. This is an attempt to insure healthy men who can keep uniform march order and will not have malnutritive disorders earned in childhood. City boys were not desired, but farmers and barbarians. According to Michael Grant in Legions of the Empire, the first cohort of each legion, the guards, had men who must stand 5’ 10.”
Do note that men about 5’8” are ideal for labor, for engineering tasks, as they get injured less doing drudgery than taller men who, while possibly stronger, have more leverage against their joints hoisting weight, digging, etc. You want taller men in mobility units, not wasted in line units that do all the grunt work in sieges, bridging, road cutting, and camp building.
Do we see a pattern?
The men on horse back, ironically, would usually be taller than the foot soldiers, since they ate well as barbarian herdsmen or as feudal lords and the sons of oligarchs.
According to Victor Davis Hansen, the standard hoplite of the 400s and 300s in Greece stood 5’7” and weighed 145, a junior welterweight. These were predominantly barely-farming grain eaters.
However, the leading athletes could be giants, and it seems as if 6’ 4” was an easily obtainable height within the diet range in Classical Hellas for special men, such as competed in the sacred agons. Promachus “Front-line-fighter” turned the tide of a hoplite battle by breaking the line himself. In shield combat, big men rule. This is why the Spartan kings had Olympic victors by their side and why the best wrestler in history, Milo of Kroton fought in the front line. Such men, as did gladiators later, did engage in “steroid” use by eating certain animal organs and glands and vast quantities of meat. I know many very muscular men who use no such steroid type enhancement. Heavy built men were not desired in mobile units. The Romans only used gladiators to defend positions, as they were worse then useless in the field against less formidable fighters who they trained in basic swordmanship.
So, what would be the size of the Macedonians, who ate much more meat than the more southerly Greeks?
-Alexander seemed normal, at about 5’8”, but very quick and strong, with unmatched human stamina.
-Hephastion must have been over six feet, for he was taken to be Alexander on first meeting.
-Companions would rarely be shorter than 5’7” as they were oligarchs in meat country and many, such as Clitus the Black and Koragus probably went 6 to 6’4”.
-Guards, 5’ 10” to 6’4”
-Phalangites, 5’7” to 5’10”
-Allied Hoplites, 5’8” and up, being picked men, including Dioxiphos, MMA champion, meaning over 200 pounds.
-Archers, 5’9” to 6’4”, averaging 5’11”, being hunters probably the strongest men in the army able to draw bows that outranged the Scythian composite bow, meaning to the ear. These were like English Longbowmen of a later age who butchered French knights in hand to hand combat using axes, picks and mauls, being twice as strong as the smaller knights, tall working men.
-The Agrianes?
These were herders and hunters of the highlands, Arуans. Look at Scotsmen and Native American warriors, Vikings of later ages, as well as the Germans and Celts that faced the Romans and were their neighbors, described by all Roman sources as at least as tall as a man of the First Cohorts.
5’9” to 6”4” with the upper range dedicated to sergeants. I suggest that the weight range of these men run from 150 for lean body types and younger men, up to 200 pounds, with the average man standing 5’10” to 11” and scaling 160 to 175 pounds. [0]
The sergeants bearing the large rally shield, lance and heavier javelins instead of darts would tend to stand 6’+ and scale 185 to 200, just like the last fighter to KO me in a waster duel. [1] A man who stands six feet and scales 200 pounds, when using a heavier shield, is equal to two men of the smallest 150 pound range. More importantly, he can break ranks, crashing through a line of smaller men at the head of a wedge formation.
In about 900 B.C., there was a duel over Olympia, in which the armies each advanced a man. They did not advance a hoplite, but an archer versus a thrower. The duel was hand to hand, so they chose bigger men who were also quick, a Ranger. In the Crusade of Richard the Lionhearted in I think A.D. 1177, a duel broke out, between two archers of the opposing forces.
Notes
-0. Yes, the sculptures Lynn spoke of, which might hopefully grace the book.
-1. A waster is a blunt sword.
-2. It is possible that dogs were used by these forces, but mostly for hunting and sport for horsemen. If the Agrianes or archers had dogs, they would have to have been trained to silence on command for scouts and for signaling in defense of a camp perimeter.
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posted: June 11, 2025   reads: 157   © 2025 James LaFond
Will & Wiles at War
Considering The Agrianes #4: Aried Notes with McCorman: 2/22/25
On Battle
According to Alexander, no greater truth about war was part of human memory than Homer’s Iliad. Modern historians scoff at this notion, as if “he who was first in the profession of arms” in all of history knew nothing of his vocation. What the Iliad tells us is the same thing that Xenophon tells us in the Hellenica and Anabasis.
Fortunes of Battle
Slings and arrows and hurled spears represent the malicious and even random peril of battle, ever present and taking men regardless of merit, to include Achilles. Many times a hero misses his spear cast and a man behind or beside the target is slain at random.
King of Battle
The spear and shield together impose will upon battle, the spear king of battle, deciding the day, standing against the tides of battle like a breakwater and breaking the enemy like a storm breaks a dyke. See Gilgamesh Book 1.
Queen of Battle
The sword, and her crude analogue the ax, are the tools of the executioner, the weapons of death. These were used mostly to slaughter foes broken by the spear, to slay captives “put to the sword.” The main use of the cavalry saber from 1618 through 1815 was the slaughter of fleeing footmen. Achilles used the sword to slaughter fleeing men and the 12 captive Trojan youth at the funeral pyre of Patroclus. The American frontier term was “war to the knife” or to “take up the hatchet” to kill. Thucydides account of the Syracuse expedition, the use of the ax and sword as executioner’s tools across ages, cultures and faiths, and the symbol of the Roman fascines, an executioner’s ax bundled in rods of punishment, make this clear. Hence, the sword and ax, particularly as weapons of the siege and sack of cities, were objects of terror to the low morale slave soldier of the majority of armies of Antiquity. See Burton’s Book of the Sword.
Attacking and resisting are the imposition of will on the enemy. Wiles are the minimizing of losses and the maintenance of the soldiers’ ability to impose his leader’s will through confidence in the commander.
It is strange that a non Macedonian unit was cited for combat honors more often by the heroic Macedonian conqueror than even his guards. The reasons are clear in Arrian’s narrative when he says, “All returned to camp safe and sound,” after the Getae battle and with “least loss of life,” describing the attack on Thracian positions at Mount Hiameus Pass. Alexander, his companions and guards might have a heroic temper. But most of the army were working on short pay and did not wish to suffer the fate of Patroclus, Hector, Achilles or Ajax, and, as well dreaded the idea of not returning home. These were not modern Americans bred to tolerate migration of home every decade of life, but traditional people who could only ever have one home. Alexander KNEW he was headed off for good and had to come up with a recipe for keeping men charged up for the next adventure by a combination of success and light casualties.
Hence, the Agrianes and archers, led by adventurous brigadier generals from other nations, nations that were highly afflicted by the international banking interests backing the Persian empire, [1] were perfect units for leading off. Light units attacking was a novel idea for everybody, granting social shock value against the most effective enemy units: Persian aristocrats and Greek traitors. It also challenged the honor of the Guards and Companions who would want to out-do these light troops. [2]
How were these men armed?
Historians have the idea that the Agrianes were simply peltasts, same as Thracians, which makes no sense, since they always burned through their light counterparts as if they were not there, attacked heavy formations head on and fought toe-to-toe with barbarian medium infantry. Historians reject the idea of ancient medium infantry. Yet these existed in the form of Iphicrates reformed Hoplites from the previous generation, about the 370s when Phillip was captive at Thebes and scheming the creation of the Macedonian army. These used smaller shields, lighter body armor and possibly javelins. The defeat of the Spartans on Sphiactra in 404 showed that peltasts could defeat hoplites if used aggressively.
It is obvious from Arrian that Longarus, the Agriane King, who was a kind of war uncle to Alexander, had various grades of troops. Also, his neighbors and foes, the Tarlantians, who also lived in the mountains, had horsemen, heavy hoplites and light troops, apparently of various types. Such tribal units would tend to mix slingers and archers as specialists among the more common javelin and dart throwers. Throwing light spears and heavy darts was the regional method of war at a distance from Homer’s time down to the 300s and 400s A.D. But, archery, depicted as useful for Odysseus, lord of forested-mountain Ithaca, was a necessary form of hunting, and slinging stones an economic activity for the mountain herders that made up the population base of the highlands.
Armor, though hoplites trained to run in it over short distances, was out of the question except for officers and Guards of the Agriane. Most archers would be hired out to the Macedonian archer brigade. [3]
How did Phillip and Alexander become such good commanders of light troops?
Theirs was a front-tier kingdom.
French and English Americans from Champlain in the 1600s, down to Church in the 1670s, Rogers in the 1740s and 50s, and Howe and Cornwalis in the 1770s and 80s, learned light infantry tactics in forested mountains the hard way, from the native enemy, in alliance with the native enemies of their enemy. Modern infantry tactics are based on this, successfully used in Spain from 1806 to 1809 by English against French, and later used to develop “storm trooper” tactics by Ernst Junger and Erwin Rommel in WWI, which relied on infiltration, and night fighting and was called, “fighting in Indian file.”
The Agrianes and Archers were the Macedonian rangers and special forces and worked together in the same fashion, with the Agrianes the rallying force for the archers, who they rescued a few times at Pellium, Thebes and in Phrygia in Book 2 of Arrian.
Their methods will be the subject of the series of novels in The Areid, beginning with Grace: Book 1.
In search of a more recent analogy, in Early Modern America, how did tribesmen bedevil heavier-armed troops in forested mountains very similar to the Agriane, Thracian, Triballian, Illyrian frontiers and the mountainous regions of Asia, from Phrygia, to Kurdistan to Afghanistan?
The basic hunting/raiding file was of three men. This was standard from the Shawnee of the east to the Apache and Pawnee of the west.
The Cherokee, who had the greatest mix of Native and European/American enemies, fought in a file of five, three-facing skirmish line with a back-up man and flanker.
The basic arms of the region were:
Primary
-long gun
Secondary
-hatchet/tomahawk
-knife
Special
-War club/sword, [4] weapon of a notable chief or hero
-Lance, wielded by specially sworn warriors, such as the white Indian that rampaged around Fort Wheeling and later Cheyenne Dog Soldiers. [5]
-Bow & arrows, every 5th Cherokee warrior, the leader, was armed with a bow to protect against and exploit overruns when guns were empty.
Shields had been discarded due to firearms blowing through them.
As Ancient analogues, the Agriane arms would be:
Primary
-Shield & Darts [small javelins] used together of necessity, so as not to expose the armpit while casting. The shield would be a small, light figure of 8 with a strap for wearing on the back, and a hand grip, facilitating punching even as the central cutout over the elbow permitted casting and sighting. The function of the empty long gone as a clubbing tool would be filled by the shield, the fear of the musket shot by the probably 5 darts. Modern historians assume these were the only weapons of the peltast, which ignores Arrian, Iphicrates and analogous combat sense. Thracian and other peltast shields were shaped like a half moon and protected the arm pit less while throwing and were marginal for punching.
Secondary
-Light war axes, like the hatchet/tomahawk are useful camp tools, cheap, easily repaired, and aid in siege work, dragging horseman out of the saddle and climbing cliffs and trees. These are even better with the shield then with the knife of the American frontier.
-Machera [machetes] would also replace war axes among some warriors, when they could be had and when practical. Ideally, every second man, that is 2 of 5, would have the machete, with 3 of 5 armed with an ax for stripping shields and pulling down riders. The machete would be better while defending and night fighting, the ax while attacking in main encounters by day, both of complimentary value in siege work. The mix of these two weapons would be like the mix of U.S. GI firearms in WWII, carbines and rifles in the same unit for operational flexibility.
-Knives, small to large knives would be carried by all such troops. How else would they provide their animal skin shield covers, boots [more like moccasins], leggings, ponchos and cowls? The WWII analogy would be the 0.45 APC.
Special
-Swords would replace war clubs, the WWII analogy being the Thompson submachinegun for close range mayhem.
-The lance would be the lance, wielded by a file commander armed with a larger shield as a rallying point. This man would also be armed with darts as well, be bigger and stronger than normal, and possibly be throwing full size javelins as a result. Despite lack of body armor, he is a heavy footman. I suggest light Iphicratic type body armor for this man. [6] His presence is the best explanation for why “the Agrianes yielded nothing” in battle. The very accurate WWII analogy would be the B.A.R. operator. The Legions of Republican Rome, who depended on hurled javelins, used this strategy, with the triaria, third line fighters, using spears.
-The bow or sling would be employed to compensate for the easily depleted darts and provide firing cover in retreat and for exploitation. The darts are 5 times heavier than arrows, and would not last long, with all five thrown easily within 30 seconds. While more darts are run up front by boys or the retreat is conducted, an archer or slinger could provide covering fire, having much more ammunition. Also, a thrower’s shoulder wears out over age. The sling and the bow can be plied to an advanced age even with injured shoulders. Therefore, older veterans with blown shoulders might be retired to second line duty. This is similar to the Roman triaria model. The WWII analogy is the light machine gun, the Bren or the MG34.
As to how these moving parts of the most cited unit in Ancient warfare functioned, is the subject of the Areid novels.
Notes
-1. The Agrianes and other small Balkan nations had agents among them paying off second rate chiefs to compromise the rule of the kings and princes in favor of economic exploitation by alien slave drivers. The bankers of Babylon either paid for the right to import slaves to mine gold or for local lower class people to be enslaved to mine gold. Corruption of tribal leadership by imperial bribes was not a Roman or American invention. The people of Crete were not subjugated by the Persian navy. Their rivals of Rhodes were Persian vassals and provided an advance naval base for the Persian fleets. The conquest of Persia by Alexander would free Crete from a looming naval threat. So, the Agrianes and Cretan “mercenaries” were motivated by love of country and were highly effective in service to a larger nation battling an even greater one. The modern parallel would be the very motivated and effective service rendered by Hungarian, Cossack, Romanian and Italian military units again the Soviets Red Army in WWII.
-2. After the death of the Cretan commander, Eurybotus at Thebes, command of the Archers was regarded as an honorable appointment for a Macedonian officer.
-3. For unit size my reference is the Black Powder Era, including the Civil War, which had lesser men in the same designation than today. A file would be a team or squad. A company or band varied from 2 or more squads, as few as 30 to as many as 300 men, as would a troop of horse. A battalion is reckoned at 400 to 800 men. A brigade is roughly 1000 to 1200 men, the archers and Agrianes being 1000, later reduced to 500 by detachment, and the phallanx taxilla about 1200. Divisions are references to larger national contingents, mostly in the Persian service, ranging from 1,000 to 10,000.
-4. When they were available, native warriors liked swords, called “long knives” or “shemanese” for which they named the invading officer class.
-5. See Messach Browning and Zane Gray’s novel of Lewis Wetzel.
-6. A quilted vest, perhaps with a groin skirt, sewn with some studs, bands or plates, similar to the jack worn by musketeers and pikemen of the powder and shot era of the late 1500s and through the late 1600s.
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posted: June 9, 2025   reads: 164   © 2025 James LaFond
The Well
Pyreon #5
Debriefing
Ted is aimlessly fidgeting with the gun, his watch, his optic, and caressing the uplink port at the base of his skull, as well working the optical toggle behind his ear without mounting the optic, which disturbed the Auditor.
“Ted, buddy, the next subject of conduction, is technological remission, dealing with no human, no complications. I have chosen this to help you recover from the recent event.”
“Sure, Boss,” mumbled the little fellow with the white hair and red beard.
“The Rough Neck, Ben Lewis, the man’s whose foot prints I am sure you encountered at the cabin, has maintained the well in the high meadow above and east of your encounter with Travis at the fence line—well done there. The well is solar powered and must be remitted. Ben is currently, according to GPS, outside of Brie’s cabin, cutting wood I suppose. I’ve met him, a big gentle man, a good guy. He is emotionally attached to the pump. It provides water for the marooners and wild cattle, and is a safer supply for Brie than if she had to walk down into Coal Canyon with buckets.”
“I don’t like it,” mumbled Ted. “Da well only has ten years on it, a clean source of upland water fer da warm months.”
Matt felt sad, “Sorry, Ted. Would you like the day off?”
“On it, Boss,” and Ted, transformed into a task-oriented geek over the mere suggestion of rest from duty. He stood rigidly, the port glowing green under his white hair, his wrist watch closing like a metal clam.
“Be back by noon, Boss, got ‘er mapped.”
“Ted, you just came back from the cabin. Maybe tomorrow?”
“On it, Boss,” mumbled the grim little man, checking his gear as he turned and walked down the stairs, looking at his watch and whispering, “Go-time, Mamma.”
‘I feel so sad for him, a 13 year old virgin in a 60 year old body confronted with lust, love and tenderness at the end of his life.’
Matt was then awash in his own loss, ‘Jill—I mean Stewardess—are you bothering to track my final mission? Or have you moved on, taking up with some Uplift Administrator to feather your Martian bed? I think you picked the wrong colony, by the way. I hope the comet misses us both.’
Matt always became angry at himself when he was tempted to cry.
Conduction
The day star was shining down upon him, clean and clear as could be as Ted stood on Baby Girl’s running board in an easy epiphany, seeing the world more clearly than he ever had, realizing in his bones that he was old, unmending and on the way out. Psycho Girl kept up a constant sting of resentment, so he could not even tell if he was being watched. Peep Girl was pining to get mounted, which meant more pain. Baby Girl was hitting every bump, checking his hips and knees for weakness. Bad Girl was pissed, making his gun hand twitch so Baby Girl’s needlessly bumpy ride might toss him. Only Mamma, on his wrist, gave him any comfort with her comforting green light of active serentiy.
At 9:14 AM, February 15th, with no idea and less of a care as to what day of the forsaken year it was, Ted rolled up to the well head. The windmill, with a rooster weather main, was still at the top. Ben was no joke. In case his solar panels failed, he had the old wind-powered pump operational. Black Angus cows, a yearling and a great horned bull, grazed near by, a hundred yards or so off from this their water supply. There were no steers. He recalled steers from his youth. The cattle had been let go, and were looking narly as heck.
The pool at the base of the 20 foot galvanized stanchion held as much as a small pound and was made of the same metal. Knowing he was being watched by Matt, the day star and whoever spied on him, Ted spoke to Mamma, “By practice I’m s’posed to tear up the pool en take down the stanchion. But, bein’ friends now with the whackados up in dey cliff cave, I figure dey will eat up da zinc coating and let Earth take back her iron undaneath in her own good time.”
By the time he was done saying such, he found himself with his hands open and upward to the day star, his body facing the stanchion with its rooster on top.
Ted drew his machete from left, in the backhand, spine of the blade along his forearm, and took a knee, “By Pryeon, I dismantle the pump rod, but leave the weather main intact. It’s pretty, afterall.”
Ted rose, walked to the stanchion base, hacked into the hollow pump rod, backhand and forehand, and yanked the lower end, bending it around the stanchion as the rising wind caused the upper linkage to rattle and clack, as the arm still turned. He then cut the wires to the solar panel, climbed the stanchion, cut the linkage to the ruin of the pump rod, tossing it aside, and descended.
Here he bent to his work uncoupling the solar panels and the batteries from their mounts and moving them away, and slightly downgrade from the artificial pond.
This done, within five minutes, Ted opened his wrist watch, mounted his optic, dialed it in to “gadget range,” and drawled, “Baby Girl, yer man needz a scrap engineer fer Remission.”
The ETV hummed to life as the screen of the watch glowed green. The Kevlar saddle bag on the far side opened. A tinny clack sounded. Then another such noise clattered, as a crab drone with a wrench for one claw and pliers for another, hopped up onto the running board, then over, and skittered to the Remission site.
Ted was always amazed at the crab drones, with their stalk like eyes, their ability to arrange wiring with their pliers as they pinned the hardware with the wrench, standing on their fin legs, and plugging themselves in to the software.
Ted maintained a reverent pose on one knee, having sheathed his machete, and watched in a chilling kind of awe. To him, this was like what folks called a funeral for people, a ceremony he had often been tasked to observe after accidentally ending a life that should have gone to Uplift or Remission.
After some 15 minutes, the solar panel and batteries were all connected to the crab drone, who clacked its mandibles and retracted its eye stalks. On a three count the hardware caught fire, a weird white fire that always made Ted fearful, deep inside. The crab then backed away, uncoupling from the hardware wires, and used its backfins to fan the fire, which grew into a white hot blaze.
The silicon and rare earth melted into the snowy grass where the wind had blown off most the snow cover.
Ted then looked to the crab drone as the hardware melted of its own nature, and said, “Okay, Skitter Baby, well done.”
The mechanical crab then seemed to salute Ted with its pliers and wrench forelimbs, and motivated back to the ETV.
“Oh, wait, Girls,” mumbled Ted in an amazed tone, “Seems like Ole Travis missed some wire. I needz ta clean dis up—it all weird-like in loops.”
Debriefing Notes
Due to the events that soon followed, and the fact that I observed the entire conduction and subsequent acts through my telescope—this very device I am speaking into, hopefully to you, Stewardess Jill—I find it pointless to interrogate Ted as to the events he participated in. For I witnessed the following.”
-M. Styer
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posted: June 8, 2025   reads: 171   © 2025 James LaFond
Psycho Girl
Pyreon #4.C & D: Brie Concluded
She stood before him, bent, it seemed, from a crushed hope, looked up and whined, “I just want a hug! The linemen are afraid to even come in to visit, think the Auditor up above is watching. Travis, I’m worried about Travis. He didn’t come for his dinner or his breakfast two days now. Please, check on Travis when you’re done with me. He’s a good man.”
Ted nodded, “yes” and opened his arms so she could give him a hug, which she did, crying on his armored chest.
She then whined, “This is a two person act, you know, a hug?”
Ted kept his hands raised and looked into her face, “How?”
She seemed shocked, opened her mouth and said, “Put your arms around me, loose, hands open, like I’m doing—on your armor—and squeeze light, to let me know you care.”
Ted did his best. Eventually she looked up at him from within his arms, “This is kind of nice, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“What do you do to me if I choose Remission. They never told me and never used that marooner term, never heard it until I was here.”
“I use a Remission key to remove your Uplink and insert it in the belt buckle you are grinding against.”
She pushed back in a kind of fright and looked at the belt buckle, like a rodeo buckle for an astronaut. Ted continued, “You may suffer an hour of nausea and disorientation, might faint, and will be deprived of any more Uplink dreams, nightmares you call them.”
“Okay,” said Brie, as she pulled her hair back and then smoothed her hands down over her sweater and jeans to show the curves of her body and pursed her lips, “Ted, I’m only 33. You are famous—I like older men, really, I do. My husband was 40. I know about you, we all do—you’ve been the talk in these parts for 20 years, I’m told, ‘When is Ted the Fed goin’ to get us.’
“Oh, sorry, Miss Brie.”
“Ted, don’t call me that. I am Brie. I could give you children. I want a family, a husband—I know I’m pretty, Ted. I see you looking. Please, grant me Remission and then come back and be my man. The other men have already gone, I bet, or are gonna do something stupid and get whacked by Ted the Fed.”
Ted was looking at her and was attracted. He could even feel the demon in his pants growing and wanting Brie. That’s when “Psycho Girl” the Uplink in the base of his head, got jealous and zapped him. Ted’s right eye almost exploded and he went to his knees with a groan. Brie, who had been looking pleased at Ted’s expanding groin, covered her mouth in horror and stepped back as Ted reeled on his knees, drooling, “Sorry Psycho Girl,” and caressed the evil computer chip bitch planted in the base of his brain.
Ted came out of the haze of pain, staggered to his feet, and asked, “You ready, Brie?”
She was aghast, “You are old as dirt and never known a woman, ‘cause those sickos that took my husband into lead vapor clouds put a jealousy chip in your brain—what the hell!”
“Brie, do, you, want Remission?” drooled Ted, still weaving.
“Yes,” she swallowed hard.
“As you can see, Uplink chips can get jealous of their subjects. I suggest you sit in the cozy chair while I remove it.”
She did so and pulled her hair around in front. The sent of her hair made him warm with desire and Psycho Girl zapped him to his knees, where he held the chair back and mumbled, “Sorry, Brie, you smell lovely.”
She actually laughed, “Wow, keep it together back there, Ted!”
He laughed as well, drew out the Remission key—the pliers, really, inserted the top and bottom head into their respective slots, squeezed gently with his hand, like a micro-hug, waited for her to gasp slightly in relief, then turned the Uplink chip to 6 O’clock. She whimpered, which was the sign that the Uplink was no longer active, and then extracted it easily.
Brie sighed a deep sigh, her head lolling a bit.
Ted walked around in front of Brie, inserted her blue chip in his black Uplink belt buckle, in one of the three empty slots, causing the buckle to activate and speak, “Widow, Brie Olsen removed from inventory of Solar Ark, Saturn, free to remain, free of APM sanction so long as not congregating in excess of ten.”
“You are free, Brie.”
She looked up at Ted, absently cupping her sweater covered breasts in her small hands, “I want a baby, a baby that will grow to be the baddest man on this bad planet. Ted, you are the baddest man, but you won’t be around long.”
He grew visibly sad, “You seen what she does to me.”
“I seen,” she said, you drop to your knees and drool. I can work with that. Please Ted, let me undress you, your choice, knees or back. I’ll do the work. When I’m old I’m gonna need a man like you to take care of me, and since these sick creeps won’t lest us build communities—Ted, I’m gonna fuck your seventy-year old virginity into a coma—then beef stew, already in the kettle.”
“Beef stew!” said Ted, in a daze from the zappings and the proposition.
Brie then gently disarmed and disrobed the wiry old man with all the scars, who was as pale as the moon, eased him down in a nurse-like way, onto the small bed, and turned to her own undressing. Just watching that got Ted zapped by Psycho Girl. He would come too during the course of Brie doing things that were the acts of a young man’s dreams, and was repeatedly rendered unconscious. At some point after dark, noted through the single east face glass window, Ted woke, numb with residual pain, naked and kind of glowing, Brie hugging him in a kind of soft victory pose.
“Ted, you were great—my legs are done. So your safe from any more pain until morning. Look, Ted, if that cruel hardware in your head, or one of these Mountain Men doesn’t kill you, please, come back to me.”
“Yez Ma’am” he mumbled and drifted off to sleep, for once in his Pyreon life, not anxious about being detached from his gear, not even worried about Baby Girl freezing her batteries off in the sub zero snow outside this storybook door.
She giggled and did more of that hug thing.
Debriefing
Ted has been out of sorts, to say the least, a sixty year old virgin seduced, compromising his APM uplink. I had no idea that an internal self-hatred “jealous” implant had been implanted on this or any conductor. I do understand it as a means of preventing abuse of APM powers by male conductors upon female subjects, as well as being a guard against seduction. “Little Miss Brie,” has possibly achieved what hundreds of survivalists and earth criminals have not, the compromising of THE Conductor, Ted the Fed.
The subject of the encounter, such as Ted has been able to relate it, is contained above in the conduction report. Ted is currently having a crisis, expressed in his continued apologetic manner towards his gear, particularly “Psycho Girl” which is his pet name for his, master, his Uplink port, which I have already been briefed, and have not informed Ted, will not serve for the purpose of Uplift. Additionally, I have just discovered that Ted is illiterate, that he memorizes spoken words and APM policy and commands, cannot even read the HDR packaging he is so fascinated with.
-M. Styer, Acting Auditor General, to Uplift Steward
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posted: June 7, 2025   reads: 222   © 2025 James LaFond
‘Work of War’
Considering The Agrianes #3: Aried Notes with McCorman: 2/22/25
The questions on primitive combat, particularly throwing, from McCorman, has begged the question that has been unasked as far as I know, from what walk of life did the men of Alexander’s army come from?
And, to our study of how things are done in war in relation to the source of manly material doing these things, what activities suited what classes of men to the military tasks?
The class of the man determined his ability to outfit himself and his suitability for types of mobility and logistical tasks.
Much of the makeup of Alexander’s army, so far as it is understood, is:
-The method of file, line and column combat with the sarissa, that is the Phalanx, “the roller” well illustrated in numerous books
-The method of heavy horse combat developed by Phillip and perfected by Alexander in the form of the Companions, less well understood.
-Hoplite warfare practiced by Alexander’s best foes, being Greek mercenaries, less well understood than the phallanx. While the guards or foot companions were armed as traditional hoplites, it is my contention that their use has been misunderstood.
-The combination of these and lesser understood troop types, such as the Agrianes, in major actions is well understood.
How these men were mustered, what their trade had been before being marshaled as members of the most successful expeditionary force ever launched, is vague to opaque.
To understand the manpower makeup of these forces we will need to draw from medieval and early modern military traditions, which were closer to the Macedonian method than the Persian [which they fought in the late 300s B.C.] or Roman [they fought in the 200s and 100s B.C.] armies of antiquity. While the army mustering methods of the Greek City states are related, these apply to only 3 battalions of Alexander’s men, being his personal guards and the 2nd and 3rd guards battalions.
Macedonia was a feudal society, more like the warrior nations of the Iliad, Senguko Edo Japan, and the Confederate States of America or Frederick the Great’s Prussia, then the mercenary armies of Alexander’s successors, Carthage, and Rome of Late Antiquity. Macedonian manpower was also much different than the mass conscript armies of Republican Rome, which had more in common with the armies of the United States of America into the Industrial Age.
Royal Forces
Phillip and Alexander after him had royal lands. These provided every type of troops. Weapons will be described under provincial forces.
-1. Mounted scouts, a small shadowy contingent of heavy horseman deployed in a light capacity. This would include volunteers from allied nations.
-2. Guards, or foot companions. I suggest that officers and front line soldiers of the foot companions were drawn from free and tenant farmers who could not afford horses, from cowherds, swineherds and artisans like carpenters and masons who drew a wage or may have been royal servants. These included volunteers from small allied states seeking honor and glory.
-3. Archers and slingers, drawn from huntsmen and shepherds, just as jaegers and riflemen were drawn from huntsmen in 1700s Europe. These men were frontiersmen of the highlands, free but poor, wearing skins, being hunters, goatherds and shepherds. They would also manage the hounds. These included mercenaries and volunteers from allied states. I suggest that Agriane forces included archers and that some would have been included in the archer contingent. The archers were initially led by a Cretan. A significant portion of these archers would have been slaves of lower Scythian class, purchased and then mustered into the ranks as paid conscripts, much like Russians in 2025 are employing North Korean units against the Ukrainians. This 1,000 man force was probably broken into five contingents of varying size: Macedonian, Cretan and other bows for hire, Scythian slaves, Agrianian allies, and a body of slingers drawn from Macedonian shepherds and goatherds. The Macedonian contingent was most likely divided into provincial units for operational flexibility.
-4. It is not clear to me how heavy horseman were drawn as Companion, if at all, from the royal estates. These would have been few and probably constituted the scouts and Alexander’s personal horse guards, or at least their grooms. For men of other nations volunteered to serve as Alexander’s personal guards, which began as 8 and increased to 9. According to Plutarch, the lords of the various provinces were hard pressed to raise troops of companions and other troops from their domains and that he donated his royal estate revenue, manpower and, probably most important, horse stock, for them to bring these crucial bodies of fighting men up to strength.
Alexander’s army, in terms of horsemen, looked much like Charlemagne’s feudal force in The Song of Roland. These men were heroic in the extreme, and Alexander, their King, treated them as social equals and put battle plans before them before action.
One will note that there is a shadow army of slaves, just as there were slaves attending the CSA forces in the 1860s, and as in that struggle, might be eligible for freedom through service.
Provincial Forces
Let us start from the top:
-1. Companions were knights, heavy horsemen, not only free but lords in their own right, attended by a groom, a slave, possibly eligible to become free and something like a medieval squire, when becoming 21 and/or distinguishing himself. This is a possible source of replacements for losses in the field. The groom takes care of his master’s horse, his horse, and the remounts, and held his spare spear. These men wielded a cornel wood spear, a xyston, possibly a light shield that could be slung on the back or used to dismount and fight as a hoplite, and a sword, either a kopish [big kukri] or xiphos [reaper], a sword that tapers outward to a wide sweet spot and then to a short point. The companions were the hammer of the army, the psychological force for breaking the enemy will. Shields used in dismounted situations such as sieges, might have been held by grooms.
-2. Foot Companions, if there were any men from the provinces who could afford to arm themselves like traditional Greek hoplites, they would be mustered out into the three guards battalions. I imagine this was not encouraged, and that such exceptional yeomen, would be encouraged to serve in the phallanx brigades as file leaders, file closers and frontline men. Guards wielded an ash spear or dory of the same length and heft as the xyston, a concave arm strap aspis, the heaviest round shield design in history, and a sword, most likely an aor, the tapering straight sword of Achilles. Each such man would be attended by a slave, possibly a youth eligible for freedom perhaps, or an old servant of the household who was once a soldier and had been sold into captivity after defeat. The slave carried the guard’s armor and personal effects on campaign and would double as a medic. The 3 royal battalions were the hinge of the army between the hammer and the anvil, and constituted the main operational force in smaller battles and sieges.
-3. Phallangites were drawn from small land owners who could not afford to mount themselves and a groom, also share croppers, freemen or freedmen. [1] These men wielded the 18 foot sarissa of cornel wood, a socketed weapon carried in two sections which may have had uses such as ladder fabrication in the field, hauling gear over the shoulder, using the front half in close terrain, etc. The shield was a reduced size aspis slung over the front shoulder as the sarissa required two hands. This was probably the shield used by the dismounted companions as well, such as in Philotus' foraging detachment at Pelium. The sword would be small, either a phasgonon [leaf shaped blade] or xiphidon [mini reaper], small swords of about bowie knife size good for stabbing or chopping in close. These men were the anvil of the army and were well capable of building projects like Roman legions. The phallanx or roller was the moving human fort, the anvil of the army, that could not be broken from the front by methods available to any known enemy.
-4. Archers were unarmored, meaning they had no shields, and seem to have used composite bows of Scythian type and were greatly feared. Their side arm would be a machera [cleaver], a machete, the cheap sword of antiquity. A huntsmen or goatherd from the provinces would be mustered by provincial units into the single archer brigade. The archers were the killers, deployed in front of Alexander, first, to shoot enemy officers in the face and drive off enemy missile troops. Even heavy infantry were reluctant to attack them, which indicates they aimed for the face and the feet. There extreme aggression against horsemen, indicated that they shot horses by preference. These were also used for night fighting and pursuit, indicating that they probably used a mix of light axes, big knives and small swords as hand weapons. These men served as scouts, night pickets and sentries and were used more often than any units but the Agrianes and Guards. Archers were “unprotected” “unarmored” troops, meaning without shields, and suffered terrible casualties in close combat, yet ironically inflicted higher levels of death and injury then heavier troops. It is likely that each archer contingent had a small body of youths and old men, many slaves, who fabricated, repaired, carried and gathered arrows.
-5. The Agrianes will have their own treatment.
Armor has also not been treated here and will be addressed in its own section.
Overall, Alexander’s force had men serving from every rural trade, able to build, hunt, harvest raw grain and also herd the many animals necessary to carry supplies and meat on the hoof for the army. This mixed force was ideal for colonization and city building, and, as such, like the later Roman armies which engineered roads and cities, a terror to defend fortified positions against.
This brings us to weapons, used from the earliest campaigns of Alexander, that seem not to have been organized in named units, though seem to fall under the direct management of Alexander in association with the archers: artillery. These engines were carried, probably by mule or other equine. The Romans seemed to have used asses for this. It seems that these crews were protected by the archers who they worked in unison with in the field and at sieges. Like the later Mongols, it is likely that these crews were a mixture of professional soldiers of fortune, actual scientists of war, being paid to run crews of slaves, perhaps their own trained, private bondsmen and/or youth apprentices, and also captured siege engineers spared to serve their conqueror.
Notes
-1. A free man owns no property. A freedman was a slave and has earned a place among the ranks of landless men, one debt from slavery, eager for loot, slaves and glory.
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posted: June 6, 2025   reads: 372   © 2025 James LaFond
White Slavery Sources
Winnowing the Grain and Chaff of the Greatest Lie Ever Sold: 3/22/25
Hi James -
I pray you and yours are healthy and prosperous.
I thought at one point you had some recommended sources about white slavery, but I'm not finding them.
Is Simon Webb's "The Forgotten Slave Trade" worth the time or do you like some other source’s better?
Glad to see your site is still alive.
Warm regards,
Bart

Sir, for white slavery in North Africa:
White Gold, author forgotten, a European, yellow trimmed book cover
Thomas Pellow, the 1730 narrative that White Gold largely uses.
The least white slavery was in North Africa, only some 2 million souls.
Most white slavery was in Europe, completely white-washed, the lives of hundreds of millions erased from history in the cause of Christianity, and then whiteness. Entire books and many articles have been written as to why a person captured, branded on the face and worked to death while being beaten by Romans, could not be a slave, because they were not Black and the owners were not American “whites.”
The second most prominent form of enslavement of Arуans, not to be confused with other racial groups labeled as white, was, and remains, Islam. A million Arуan women a year are sold into sex slavery in the Middle East. Mongols, Turks, Tartars, Arabs all lusted mightily for pale women. Christian girls were a great commodity among Jеwish women in Turkish lands, who bought sex slaves for their husbands, that after four years converted to Judaism and then married into the family with a lower status man. By the billing records, this seems to have been an attempt to breed out the unibrow, seriously.
The third most common type of Arуan slavery [I don’t prefer white or Caucasian because non-Christian Caucasian whites were rarely trafficked and did the majority of slave driving.] was American, with between two and four million sold into North America over 250 years.
If you are seeking secondary sources the titles are below:
-1. The Slave Trade, author forgotten, about 900 pages, is about the sale of Africans in the New World, but begins with ancient slavery and does touch on Arуan slavery. It is an important source, because the mechanics of the institution are examined, mechanics that are intentionally obscured by modern writers on the European trade, to include the translator of Jasper Dankerts’ journal who omitted the middle passage as unimportant.
-2. Bound Over by Van Der Zeer, an excellent study, a full size book written without apology and with art.
-3. They Were White and they Were Slaves, Michael Hoffman, an introductory pamphlet.
-4. The Redneck Manifesto by Jim Goad is a very well done book that devotes the first chapter to expanding on Hoffman’s work.
-5. Stillbirth of a Nation, James LaFond
-6. America in Chains, JL
-7. Into Wicked Company, JL
-8. A Bright Shining Lie at Dusk, JL
-9. The Lies That Bind Us, JL
-10. So His Master May Have Him Again, JL
-11. So Her Master May Have Her Again, JL
-12. The Greatest Lie Ever Sold, JL, in our estore
-13. Crackerboy, JL, in our estore
-14. Sold, JL in hardback
-15. Cox & Swain, JL, in hardback
-16. Advent America, JL, in hardback and estore
-17. Search For An American Spartacus, JL, estore
-18. Orphan Nation, JL, estore
-19. In These Goings Down, JL, estore
-20. Plantation America, JL, estore
-21. Ball of Fortune, JL, etsore
The following now long in progress:
-22. Planting America
In This New Isrаel: Book 1: Earliest Known European Contact to 1699
-23. Of A Planted Land
In This New Isrаel: Book 2: An Inquiry Into A Once and Actual America 1700 to 1804
-24. Rise of A Notion
In This New Isrаel: Book 3: The Triumph of Omission, 1805 to Postmodern America
-25. Bound & Freed, God willing, the sequels to Sold as one volume
Generally, if the term Indentured Servant or Indentured Servitude are used and not demolished as fiction, then the source is trash.
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[histories]   [Plantation America]  [Crackpot Mailbox]  [article link]
posted: June 4, 2025   reads: 366   © 2025 James LaFond
‘Why Not Advertise?’
An Upstanding Church Lady Quizzes the Crackpot: 3/23/25
Making my escape from common law marriage from Portland to Seattle, James Chosen, master of Toby, the redoubtable, worthless, suburban, American Dog, rolled into “the colon” (Seattle) in Big Red, the “Urban Assault Vehicle,” a 1998 Ford 350! to pick me up. It turned out to be fortuitous for the Chosens that I was around. For grandchildren across the nation called for a visit, and Great Grandma Mary needed a nurse—not me.
The nurse is a nice, expert cook and housekeeper, an avid reader, who raises and trains farm dogs. Her husband is a general contractor who also runs a 25 acre farm in Northern California. Seeing me ditching in the rain just like her old man, made her want to cook me a meal, rather than watch me heat up canned meat. The lady is herself recovering from surgery and a car accident that wrecked her back. So I deal with the firewood and all outside chores. She has to cook sitting. So I bring and take things for her as she works up a delicious elk and beef Salisbury steak and onions meal.
“I hear you are a writer. I see you are such a good guest and a big help that you would be an ideal person to stay in the small cottage on our property. I always fancied it as a writer’s retreat. Jenn says you just finished a book, that you have written hundreds. Since you have written that many books, how are you not famous?
“Because my books don’t sell. I own the hundred worse selling titles on Amazon.”
“Couldn’t you advertise? I have a friend who writes mystery novels and she advertises on facebook, gets up a buzz and does very well when she self-publishes.”
“If I advertised I would have only written a handful of books, like that lady. I advertise nothing, have been blessed with hundreds of avid readers, dozens of readers who invite me to stay with them, and have seen so much of the country I never expected to see that I want to write about these places. If I write advertising, I don’t write but a book or two a year. I know a man who wrote one book [Sam Finlay] and has written for and about selling that book for ten years! I can barely stomach writing a dust cover. I have never been good about promoting anything, gave my cub scout raffle tickets to my brother to sell.”
“I understand, you have a drive to write something new, right?”
“Yes, I am a compulsive writer, a graphomaniac. I am giving the rest of my books away to grandchildren and young people to publish. I can’t even stomach wasting screen time on the publishing process. I just write.”
“That is so nice of you. Now, if someone was willing to advertise for you, do you have a book that you think would sell?”
“No, none.”
“Really, none?”
“I write American history, my best work, I think. But that cannot sell because I write about the facts, the “was,” not the fanciful “should have been.” Americans have been pre-programmed to reject actual, facts about the founding of this country in favor of wild fantasy. I would be the subject of a conservative/liberal witch hunt for promoting my best work. In fact, my Plantation America work, if promoted, might prove a means to heal the Blue & Red rift that divides this country.”
“Do you use swear words in your writing? If you do, remember your grandchildren will be reading it.”
“In nonfiction I quote actual speakers, people I interview. Since half of the American vocabulary consists of a handful of swear words, even though I fail to transcribe all of the bad words, to entirely redact them would be to operate in falsehood, to portray a man who cannot think out loud without the f-word as one who never uses it.”
“What about fiction, do you use bad language in fiction?”
“If I am writing fiction set in our time, about cops or military men who rarely utter a sentence without cussing, then I render the common characters as they are and try and insert a superior type, a cop that does not cuss, for instance, who all other cops will hate.”
“I understand, that seems right, but it will keep your work away from people who don’t like that language.”
“Exactly, young lady, like people that read, mostly women, who like things written as they should be rather than as they are.”
“What about murder mysteries?”
“I don’t like the genre. It is utopian. The killer is always found out, where in real life homicides are rarely closed.”
“You write about what you know then?”
“Yes, like boxing manuals for the least likely people to read anything. Ancient history. 70% of all history books sold in the U.S. Are on WWII, 20% Civil War and 10% the other five thousand years, where I operate, in the desert.”
“You wrote a lot about crime I take it? True crime is very popular on TV.”
“Yes it is. But TV true crime shows, which I have seen hundreds of, are all, all pro-police, always show police in a good light. In my work I have found police to be mostly criminals. So my crime writing, which focuses on urban blight, which is a downer, will be rejected by avid readers of the subject.”
“What book did you just finish?”
“Humanitarian Daily Ration, a science-fiction novel about abandoning the planet.”
“Oh?”
“And the title is too long.”
“So you have to write for men, like my husband.”
“Who probably reads Clancy, Cussler, Koontz and Patterson, maybe Ludlumn?”
“Yes.”
“That is the only genre that men read enough to make a living writing—horror is the only male/female shared genre—which is espionage, intrigue, technological adventure, spy craft, military trouble shooting—the kind of stuff that gets made into movies, which is the real money.”
“Do you write military novels?”
“Oh yes. I am currently beginning a series of seven novels beginning in 336 B.C. and ending in 322 about an obscure tribal military unit known as the Agrianes, who saw more action than any other body of fighting men in human history—and even military history buffs will turn up their nose at it, because the soldiers wear animal skins and throw little spears. You cannot have a war movie without explosions, even of an ancient war.”
She looked at me with sad eyes and I said, “I don’t write to sell, but to duplicate life in words for the good of some boy who is not even born yet, so that he might catch a glimmer of what was, rather than what should have been. In this world world of men, that is a sin.”
She smiled as she mixed her gravy in the iron skillet, “Then you sound like the perfect candidate for a work-to-rent cottage!”
The funny thing is, James Chosen, who makes my annual earning in 6 weeks, gets it, knows why I write. He knows what it is like to sell his soul doing good work for evil men so that his family can live outside of the Ring of Crime our masters have designed for us. Dudes with money seem to get me in an instant, the pauper writer. I have had four lawyers, five, buy me meals and patronize me as a kind of avatar of do-what-you-like rather than do-what-you-are-told. It is poor and middling folks that see writing as a one-shot jackpot, or as a career as a leading man of letters. The funny thing is, the pulp writer naturally makes no sense to pulp people.
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posted: June 2, 2025   reads: 430   © 2025 James LaFond
Brie
Pyreon #4.B
Briefing
Ted had his optic on, tooling with the dial behind his ear and the various settings on the silicon housing ring mounted to his augmented right eye, holding a steaming cup of coffee in his left hand. They had already found their working rhythm, Ted sighting in the high meadow and timber line features, sometimes wandering, off mission, to the mountain peaks which he seemed in awe of, while Matt briefed him.
“A traditional log cabin, thirty yards within the timberline, above Coal Canyon, built by the marooners in 2080, and maintained by their efforts, mostly individual. As you know, ferals are permitted limited group organization, marooners must work as individuals and interact only as pairs.”
‘Poor bastards—poor girl!’
“Brie Olsen, wife of an Uplift Committed Union at age 18, was married to a Solar Mariner, Esch Olsen, whose ship and crew went down on Venus during a manned probe in 2094. No longer eligible for Uplift, unless selected as a wife, Brie, then 30, was not granted a renewal on her Uplift contract. Betty Neats, a former Chicago stripper, who had been serving as cook since 2080, passed from lung cancer and Brie was granted a pass to operate the line cabin as cook and laundress.
“Ted, extreme kindness is recommended. All of the marooners are known by Brie. So we should have waited on Travis Branch, but he was most distant…”
“Sorry, Man, this bugs me, this raw deal for this girl, a widow, a willing wife waiting for her husband, discarded based on the nuclear family stipulations and mostly because the Uplift Execs who rule on humanitarian exceptions want male children who can be trained to task, and 18 to 21 year old women for the obvious.”
‘Easy, man, you are burning up here.’
“So, ruled a hag, an unwanted crone at age 31, Brie Olsen, betrothed to the stars, tends an Iron Age cook hearth, splits firewood and washes and mends the clothes of the marooners and also the ferals. Ted, I have rigged a sled of supplies for brie, if she chooses to stay. If not, drop them for the ferals, who will obviously occupy the cabin.”
Ted dialed back his optic, encased “Peep Girl” at his hip, and drawled, “Boss, I’ll see what she wants and do her best service I can.”
Conduction
The cabin was quite nice, built of 30 foot timber north to south and 15 foot east to west, all lodge pole, tops for the narrow sides and bases for the long sides. The moss covering the low shingled roof showed through the thin snow there as the great evergreens above shielded the historic building. A path had been shoveled by a large-footed man, not Matt or Travis, from the woodpile, under a low lodge pole pavilion, to the single door of the cabin. The cabin walls rated 20 years if kept caulked. The roof had five years left. The spring house was dug under the cabin. The chimney was fairy tale right and sparked something in Ted that caused him to pat Baby Girl with a half caress as he dismounted.
The man had walked off at dawn, under a load, having gotten some supplies. By the trace, he never entered the cabin, but passed firewood in and was passed a bucket or pot from within.
The air was filled with ice crystals lazy-like hitting the earth between the great needle and palm boughs. The fire in the cabin was stoked and pumping aspen smoke, suggesting a hot breakfast cook fire.
Ted grinned and hefted the two great tarp sacks of HDRs from the sled, with a blanket and some silver spoons and forks in each—he had been told, by Matt who he trusted with the smallest detail as a good boss. Towards the white-limed cedar panel door he dragged these things through knee deep snow.
His gun hand twitched and he looked at who was calling from down on his right hip, “No, Bad Girl, you gots da day off!”
Setting a sack to either side of the door, and noting that the big man boot prints were fresh, made just after dawn, and that the man had not entered, Ted decided that the roughneck, most likely, had come for his chow and brought up firewood in return, and was now off up the canyon tending the well in the meadow above.
Ted knocked easily on the door and it opened so soon he knew that she had been listening there, waiting in the silence of the dread.
The woman was an inch shorter than he, slight of shoulder and a little thick in the hips and thighs, with a tiny waist. Her feet were small, snow would be a problem without snow shoes. Her face was pretty, with a straight sloped nose, long, wavy brown hair, and dark amber eyes, her teeth white and straight, the first lines of life beginning to creep inward from the far edges of her pretty face.
“Miss Brie, I’m Ted from—”
“Pyreon, I know, I’m terrified. What is all this stuff for?”
“Supplies, for you, should you choose to stay.”
“I have a choice?” she scrunched her face into a sour frown. “I was not taken for wife after my husband, doing his duty for Uplift wrecked on Venus. I’ve got this goddamned chip in the base of my skull that gives me nightmares—dreams, true, but since they are all about getting married in a station chapel before the rings of Saturn, you can imagine how I feel?”
She looked at his face as he waited for her to say something else, “Or, maybe you can’t imagine?”
Ted stood and waited and she looked at him, sighed, pulled the door wide, and said, “Bring it in.”
Ted hauled both great sacks in and placed them behind the door as he closed it, turning his back on her. He always let women get the first go in case they resisted. That made it easier on his mind.
There was a table and two wooden chairs, a lone easy chair draped with Indian blankets, a small bed with aspen posts and a hearth with two kettles, and brick oven, and a host of pots, pans and utensils hung around the hearth. Ted also noted the frame of a hatch in the floor under a bear skin rug, that must go to the spring cellar.
“Miss Brie, I am sorry about your man and the short hand you been dealt. I am conducting. It is your choice to take a benediction, courtesy of Pyreon, for your service as line cook. Or, you can chose marooner status and I can un-chip you and you well never see a company or government man again.”
The look on her face made the watch hum, the gun hand twitch, his eye squint and the eye in the back of his head dilate in anger.
06.02.25   RetroTech — Will definitely buy this book once it’s out, great setting so far JLF, thanks for your continued work.
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posted: June 1, 2025   reads: 376   © 2025 RetroTech
The Overhang
Pyreon #3
Briefing
Matt was dressing the shoulder wound, standing above Ted, as the small conductor sat in the far right chair, sipping black coffee with molasses and calibrating his optic, which he disturbingly talked to, naming her “hers” and/or “Peep Girl.”
‘He seems to be unraveling a bit from being shot. How is he still sane, after doing this work, for what, exactly 40 years?’
“There you go, Peep Girl, Hers is on the target—good Girl…” drawled the wizened man in his care.
‘Well, I guess, all he really has is his gear, so its personalized, deeply.’
Matt’s inner counselor had put this anxiety to rest for a moment.
“Matt, we have the overhang you mentioned, zeroed. It is in the black stone cliff face, sixty meters up, partially obscured by old gillie netting. There is a dull metallic trace, no heat signature, significant inorganic structure, could be a weapon cache.”
The optic was taken out, cased next to the strange smart gun. Then Ted sat like a cipher, ready to listen. As strange as it was to sync after one conduction with one of Ted’s breed, who Matt had worked with for his own long decades, the last Auditor on Earth, forged ahead:
“Ted, the overhang is not suspected of being occupied by transhuman subjects ready for Uplift or of marooners in need of HDR. This is being recorded for Uplift Station, of course—as no off the record operations are authorized without concord, in light of the Stewardship blackout we are acting under.”
Ted gave a thumbs up which meant an “a-okay” on the eves dropping bullshit meter. So Matt continued. I am actually concerned that bad actors have cached gear there. Please, I am Auditioning this as a rest mission, a way to avoid potentially hostile interactions while you are wounded, just this first day. In case this is a benign stash of survival supplies with no transhuman tech, a full HDR ruck has been loaded for deposit.”
“Yezzir, Matt. Baby Girl will get me there right quick and I’ll mount Peep Girl, as hurtful a lass az she be, en record the site and the deposit—be back by noon, ahead a da blow I can feel in my teeth.”
“Really, you can feel barometric changes coming on?”
“Bro, ever since I been fitted with da optic, en especially after getting’ clubbed by some roughneck marooner for my gear, the bottom branch of the nerve, to da teeth, lights up like all get-out four to six hours ahead of a storm. We gettin’ socked good, gooder den we should already be, considering it’s February in da Rocky’s en we can still see bare ground out dare.”
‘His diction is deteriorating.’
‘Hopefully it is a sign of trust, of informality.’
Humanitarian Daily Ration Operation T.1[1]
The wind was coming from the north as he rode into it on her sleek back, ice crunching under her tires, a slight warmth from her batteries radiating up into his booted feet. The bill of his tactical cap was crusted. As Baby Girl rolled up out of Coal Canyon under the eves of the awesome jagged teeth of that black ridge, out of a big old ditch that had once been a man-made lake for watering vast herds of folks down on the flat, Ted spied the overhang.
It was a slot in the cliffs 180 feet up, obscured, intentionally, by gillie netting supported by sticks, like a person made a hawk aerie and covered it with net. He new Matt was watching from his telescope, a cool thing he had come up with himself, as being more human than using the automounts fixed above the roof of Wonderview Cabin. Ted relaxed his shoulders extra, knowing his friend, his boss, his teammate, was in overwatch. Matt had determined that Ted did not suffer fear of harm, but of detachment. The last Conductor had a strange phobia that Matt, as a lifetime curator of human technology, could understand: fear of separation from his gear.
Baby Girl was left below.
Ted shouldered the stack of tiny rucks on his back, prepared by Matt. The Auditor had somehow salvaged a set of 110 year old East German Army ruck sacks, tiny things in urban camo, that stacked by way of aluminum hooks and loops upon each other, so that one might carry one to four of these. Matt had also provided lineman cramps fitted on Ted’s tactical boots, explaining that men had once kept power flowing to cities from turbine dams by climbing poles with these claws fitted over boot toes. Matt had also provided a handy military tomahawk from some scrap called The Vietnam Conflict, that served for climbing almost as good as a mountaineering pick.
Ted looked down at his dumdum gun and smiled, “You on leave Bad Girl. Got da day off!”
Ted then scaled the chewed up rock face, the south face free of ice and mostly of snow. It was a climb he might have made without the equipment in dry summer sun.
At 10:14 AM, by the timer on Matt’s telescope, synced with Ted’s wrist watch for audiovisual transfer, Ted crested the bottom ledge of the overhang, which was free of netting for an arm’s length, the netting being supported from the roof ledge of what was a shallow cave. The net was held together by a weir-like structure behind it. From the gloom imposed by this device, which was festooned with cones, needles and leaves, Ted was regarded by various white lit eyes, with pupils varying from green to yellow to red, and also blue.
Ted balked, opened his wrist watch, speaking to her, “Gotta see dis, Mamma!”
A dull burning in the back of his head told Ted that Matt was watching him, that some other folks were watching him, and the rising sharpness of the pain announced that a day star was watching him. He shivered and gawked, then planted his tomahawk in the stone, rucked off his HDR supplies, and said, “Sorry y’all, fer not callin’ ahead. But I don’t got yer number—name’s Ted Pyreon, deliverin’ dese ‘ere HDRs from Matt Styer, Auditor, Final Uplift.”
A skittering and a flapping was heard as the eyes all turned to blue, except for some small white eyes in the back of the cave, surrounding a larger, softer blue light that pulsed like a heartbeat.
A half dozen spider drones pulled aside the netting to permit the exit of as many whackado, areal drones of various types: 3 spies, 2 messenger and one HEAT drone, eyes shining blue. These surrounded Ted in a semi circle, posting up between him and the three little ruck cases.
The three spider drones skittered out, one each opening and inspecting a ruck. This done, these drones each dragged a case back inside the netting.
The HEAT drone then took flight, its six slant rotors and V-wing deploying in an awesome screech, as big as an eagle, whirring off above.
As the three unburdened spider drones held open the netting, the two messenger drones, their control panel lights dead indicating no interface with Uplift or the military drone network remaining at the nuclear structures [2], the two messenger drones, their three rotors folded, along with their two small black wings, bowed on their tripod stands. They then turned and reentered the cave, the netting closing behind them.
Ted began his descent, circled by the eagle-like HEAT drone far ahead, watched by a day star he did not think a lucky one, by Matt who was “shitting myself,” in disbelief and terror, and some unknown party below in the timber. As a man used to interfacing with drones and other AI gear, one thing struck Ted as most strange about this encounter, had as the dark clouds closed in over driving snow. This was, he swore, the palm of his right hand on the back of Mamma, the wrist watch, that as he climbed down, from up above he heard what he could only describe as “mechanical kid voices, chittering in some kind of glee.”
Debriefing
Ted sat, having his vitals checked by Matt before the picture window, viewing the snow storm that had fairly blown him home. He was possessed of “a weird, void-like calm,” when asked of his experiential view of the encounter.
To this note, and the video record, Matt appended:
“To Uplift Stewardship, in concord of discovery, Auditor Matt Styer and Conductor Ted Pyreon render this audio-visual evidence that malfunctioning drones, called whackados, are organizing, surviving and even procreating as a mechanical species.”
Notes
-1. T = Terminal, the final series of food drops.
-2. Ted only knows of old nuclear power plants as Nuclear in the most abstract sense, assuming them to be centers of Omniscient aspect, like temples, not, oddly enough in Matt’s view, understanding these to be decommissioned power plants.
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posted: May 31, 2025   reads: 304   © 2025 James LaFond
Knocked on the Head
Considering The Agrianes #2: Aried Notes with McCorman: 2/22/25
Chinese dude's take on Eastern Woodlands combat
Inbox
mcorman
Fri, Dec 27, 2024, 10:02 PM
to me

The good reader is interested in the writer’s opinion of a Chinese video contemporary on Eastern Woodland war clubs. The writer is unable to view the videos but is keen on the subject. Recently the spiked ball maple war club and the musket stock war club, also spiked and fitted with dagger blades, have been popularly depicted in graphic and tactical recreations. From Muzzle Loader Magazine to Cold Steel “trainers” made of synthetic molds. I have handled some of these and they are totally impractical for combat in which there is resistance.
There were no such war clubs among western tribes. There were light hafted stone-headed clubs and short hand clubs with flexible hafts. Knocking a hole in the head is great combat sense in action. Fighting much above the tree line among stone, the Inca warriors had stone and bronze club heads mounted on rope and whirled.
Tecumseh had war club which he used with a speed that was hard to counter. This would have been more like an Irish walking stick, or a Zulu fighting stick. The common term for a light hafted club with a round ball on the end is a cudgel. English stick-fighting was called cudgeling.
When the French landed in the Great Lakes and took on the Mohawks, who lived in Nordic style long houses of a type out of use in Europe for 400 years and worshiped a thunder god, these warriors wore wooden breast plates, fought behind wooden shields, and used heavy war clubs and stone-headed axes, even the occasional stone sword. The war ax and hammer are of great use in shield combat. For stripping and tilting enemy shields. But once the French blasted the Mohawks with muskets the tribe went to lighter fighting, skirmishing, with lighter clubs, eventually guns and with English hatchets.
Indeed, the English trade tool or hatchet, not balanced for fighting, became so much the common tool of frontier warfare in Indian hands, that to bury the hatchet became the term for ending war gripes. By the 1670s, New England tribes of the Algonquin language were using hatchets to kill at close range, mostly by hitting the enemy person in the head with the square back, so as not to ruin the useful blade for camp work.
Even the hatchet was a bit heavy for long range warfare in which foot speed over great distances was required. The greater weight must be devoted to the musket and shot, the primary weapon. This is the situation of all missile armed troops of antiquity, that the weight of missile shield [pelte] and missiles must be greater than that of back up weapons. So, two innovators came up with the same solution 2000 years apart: the Scythians and, William Penn?
With the primary weapon a bow with many arrows, the long hafted light war ax, easily recovering from a stroke and a “rodondo” roll of the wrist became the go to weapon of the archer horse lords of Asia until sword steel became highly advanced in late antiquity.
William Penn, in 1701, invented the tomahawk, as a trade item, in consultation with allied Lenape chiefs. We think of it as a throwing weapon, as it is that light. But that is a sport. The use of this light war ax was for smoking in council and knocking holes in heads. It was handy enough to recover from missed strokes and had the advantage of the ax, which is binding upon heavier weapons, such as the musket in Penn’s time.
The ax figured prominently in some battle scenes of the Iliad, is shown on the Alexander Sarcophagus, was used by the Carduchi, or Kurds [mountain people], was used to cleave Alexander and nearly kill him at the Granicus, and was the weapon for which the Labyrinth of Minos at Knossos was named. Labyrinth means “House of the double ax.”
For any folk that must trade and loot for iron, such as the Scythians and Mohawks and Lenape, or who live in mountains, such as the Agriane, Scots, Norse, Inca, Cherokee and Mohawks, far from developed iron industries where only small scale craft forges operate, the ax in war is far cheaper and just as deadly as the sword. Recall the fascines, bundle of rods around an ax, that represented civic concord in ancient Rome, and think of how in times of war, the rods that surround the ax of order can all become ax hafts to deal with external disorder.
Plutarch, the primary source for Alexander’s upbringing, does not bother naming the many experts that were gathered under Aristotle and Alexander’s uncle, Leonidas, to tutor the lad. He does mention that Alexander enjoyed and encouraged running, riding and stick fighting the most, and had little regard for boxing and MMA. This reminds me that boxing, MMA and other martial arts are very barren sources for stick fighting and knife fighting, which are much higher arts in terms of muscle-powered combat. One is more likely to talk a tennis player or hockey player into stick fighting than an MMA or boxing fighter. I have long noted that prowess gained in striking with body parts discourages, in some deep way, most men from engaging in weapon combat.
Alexander, a stick-fighter and promoter, of course, knew this. Xenophon had encouraged sparring with blunt spears from horseback a hundred years earlier. So long as shields are in use, the ax is supreme for breaking ranks, the sword more for slaughtering routed and captive foes and for defending a high value person by his own hand, keeping blade and shield close. The expense of arming with swords for a back country force will favor cleavers or machetes, like the French falchion or Hellenic Macheara for first rate fighters, light axes for fresh levies and volunteers, and the aor, or tapering straight sword, perfect for shield work, to whichever officers will serve as rallying points with larger shields than the pelte. There is ample evidence in Arrian’s subtext that the Balkan mountain nations of Antiquity, like the Kurds, including the Agrianes, Illyrians and Tribalians, used numerous troop types from lightest to heaviest. Therefore, in fleshing out the Agriane order of battle, I have chosen the Cretan, Viking, Scottish and Cherokee [1], peoples from similar terrain practicing hunting, herding and limited farming.
In late Antiquity, Balkan legions under Rome had switched away from the heavy pilium and large shield back to the traditional hurled weapon mainstay and small shield and medium extension weapon for close work. These Illyrian legions became the fulcrum upon which late Rome pivoted from Severus thru Constantine, revisiting an early pivotal role under Alexander.
Methodologically, an extension weapon that strikes through with the head, weather ax or club, must be wielded with a single hand, with recovery achieved through fluid wrist rotation and shoulder orientation. To hold such a weapon in two hands leaves the fighter open to killing thrusts with spear, sword and bayonet and hand smashes and checks with a shield. The war club is most effective when long-handled and light just like it’s son, the battle ax. [2]
Notes
-1. First Tribal American dairy farmers.
-2. The paddle is such a handy war club that Captain Sir Richard Francis Burton, in his Book of the Sword, proposed it as one of the origins of the sword, the others being the knife and the war club, which is usually lightened by carving and focusing of impact area rather than weighted at the end. The German war club that got the best of the Gladius at the battle of Tutoberg Forest against Varus, is an excellent example, as is the Japanese boken or waster which is too dangerous to spar with unless armor and control are used by each fighter.
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posted: May 30, 2025   reads: 523   © 2025 James LaFond
Death Of A Writer
A Web Tomb
Some years ago, perhaps in 2017, my darling niece began operating a site for me to post travel writing. There may be some 300 articles on this site which died with the Brovid Jiveteen Shamdemic. I stopped involving dear Mrs. Lockhart in podcasts and Jamie in web space when the System became savagely self aware and the danger of spontaneous NPC agent attacks made the safety of helpful ladies a prime concern.
I wrote under a pen name, a character from The Sunset Saga, Randy Sterling Bracken a composite of my friend Guru Rick and a fellow named Charlie who I trained with in 2002, tainted with my lesser nature.
I was surprised to fine that the site below is still up.

Jamie has recently published two novels and is working on two more.
Seven Moons Deep

American Dog

Humanitarian Daily Ration and Blood Hate are in the works.
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posted: May 30, 2025   reads: 737   © 2025 James LaFond
Tramping: Summer 2025
Crackpot Travel, A Rough Draft: 5/28/25, G-String, New Jersey
This is meant as a means for me to semi-intelligently approach the ticket counter in Lancaster, PA, when I arrive their, God willing, in seven days. It may also give my potential reapers, some of whom I am supposed to encounter at some point this year, an idea of when and where this bad thought whackamole might appear to cast its tiny shadow at the foot of that mighty Murkan tower…
It is strange, and uneasy on the soul, to but rarely stay a week in any den. The recent multiplication of men wanting to train, my desire to return to those who assisted me when writing earned about $2k a year, has combined with a feral reaction against being crippled for some months in 2023. It is strange how a supposedly sentient and willful creature becomes colonized by circumstance. It is so strange I sometimes wonder if this life is real.
What follows is the plan I shall attempt to execute. This will be done in pieces, as I cannot buy tickets online and the east coast ticket counter clerks are generally incapable of selling an itinerary, with language and cognitive abilities sufficient for but 1 or 2 sales. Once I get to Pittsburgh, I will be able to buy tickets in a block. Note that If I miss a single train, that the entire itinerary becomes void. That is another reason for the writing of this, so that there will be record of intent for my failing brain to access for new ticket purchases. This will also give my hosts a ready reference. I am trying to move more slowly and more often, with only overnight trips. Sleeping sitting up for more than two nights becomes taxing for the crumbling cracker.
A note under each entry is a reminder of my primary activity expected.
Some of these stops have not been checked with folks who have invited me. In such cases, I will simply plan on spending a night in a motel to rest and write and map the area for a future visit.
I am currently, in Jersey, writing non fiction prompt articles suggested by readers and editor, background notes for a Myth 20 Podcast at summer’s end, and beginning writing The Warriors.
Thursday, June 5, Morning
Train from Metro Park, New Jersey to Lancaster, PA
Visiting a fighter’s daughter who insists she is The Queen and I am the Butler and should not be wandering about when tea time is nigh…
Friday, June 6, Afternoon
Train from Lancaster to Pittsburgh, PA
Finish writing The Warriors
Thursday, June 12, Night
Train/bus from Pittsburgh, PA to Norfolk Virginia
Training with James
Monday, June 16, Morning
Bus/Train from Norfolk to Baltimore
Finish writing Enemy of All Mankind
Northeast Baltimore/East Baltimore/Harford County (writing), Cecil County (training), Baltimore County (training), Westminster (training)
Friday, July 4
Sedan to Lancaster, PA
Train/training videos for local gym
Tuesday, July 8, Afternoon
Train to Pittsburgh, PA
Begin writing the Areid
Tuesday, July 15, night
Train to Chicago
Transit
Wednesday, July 16, afternoon
Train to San Bernadino, line is in ill repair, could arrive Friday 17th, Saturday 18th or Sunday 19th
Training with Rollo and Vanilla Gorilla, writing bio
Thursday, July 24 ?
Train from San Bernadino to Santa Anna
Train with Alfredo
Saturday, July 26, night
Train to LA
Transit
Sunday, July 27, morning
Train to San Jose
Writing Son of God/Areid
Monday, August 4, morning
Trains to Salt Lake City
Complete Son of God and Areid
Thursday, September 4, night
Train to Chicago
Transit
Saturday, September 6, night
Train to Pittsburgh
Begin Completing Planting America
Saturday, September 13, morning
Train to Martinsburg, WV
Training with Ax Grit
Monday the 15th or Tuesday the 16th Baltimore will be the destination, by train, bus or sedan. I’ll leave this to the convenience of my host.
Autumn Destinations
October
Saint Louis 3-5
Colorado 7-15
New Mexico 16-23
California 25-30
November
Oregon
Washington
Michigan
Pittsburgh
Lancaster
Baltimore
December Rough
Maryland
Jersey
Pa
January
To southwest MO, Phoenix, California… just don’t know
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posted: May 29, 2025   reads: 494   © 2025 James LaFond
Anasazi Cannibal Cult
A Retrospective with Banjo: 3/22/25
I'm hiking new trails almost every week and seeing so much of the country that has avoided development and agriculture has had me pondering over many things with regard to this country and the southwest in particular.
I will get into one area that I have explored in this email that I think you might find interesting.
I've been out to Chaco Canyon a couple times. 
It has a palpable weird dead vibe. I heard and read how this area was flourishing and there were hundreds of thousands of people here that suddenly disappeared. Much the same story as Cahokia mounds in Missouri/Illinois area. The accepted story is that while no one knows what happened, they probably had some sort of agriculture problem which caused them all to disperse. That's what they say about Cahokia too.
It turns out that there have been two major studies conducted on Chaco. The first was around the 1800's if I remember right and the researcher said that the people there were cannibals. A later study done in the 80's or 90's was done on some of the kivas where there were piles of bones. The researcher concluded that due to the cuts into the bones etc that the people there were engaging in cannibalism. Both of these researchers got silenced for the mainstream narrative that these were just peaceful indian farmers growing corn and chilling out.
There is also evidence that the Cahokia indians were also cannibals but that is also silenced.
So what happened to them?
This is a video of a Dine' medicine man stating that the Anastazi were evil and "completely different that us." Let that sink in as it will be important. They were slave traders, cannibals and black magicians who mocked the Dine' gods. He says they could switch the hearts of dogs and the dogs would live...In other words they could do complex surgeries. He says in this video or another that God told the Dine' to completely wipe them out and leave no trace of them behind. At that time earthquakes happened and rocks fell on the anastazi's buidlings and water dried up. Does this remind you of something?
Deuteronomy 20:16-18 King James Version (KJV)
But of the cities of these people, which the LORD thy God doth give thee for an inheritance, thou shalt save alive nothing that breatheth: but thou shalt utterly destroy them; namely, the Hittites, and the Amorites, the Canaanites, and the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites; as the LORD thy God hath commanded thee: that they teach you not to do after all their abominations, which they have done unto their gods; so should ye sin against the LORD your God.
I don't know if they were connected or not but it s pretty similar. There are other stories such at the tower of Babel and Genesis 6 that are mirrored in the oral traditions of the Hopi and Dine'. (I digress but just a note...the Apache and some other tribes have a series of sacred mountain here in Arizona. One is Mount Graham where they say that the "gods" came down to earth. It is here that the Vatican put the telescope they call "Lucifer" against the wishes of the Apache. In fact the Vatican argued in court that because the Apache didn't put churches or other such things that it wasn't actually sacred to them. The vatican won and now none of us can go up top without prior approval.) I suspect that what we read in the Bible are mirrored in oral traditions around the world. Fallen angels= gods coming down etc.
I found this in the summary on the search page when looking for anastazi. "The term "Anasazi" is no longer used by archaeologists and historians, as it is considered derogatory. Instead, the term "Ancestral Pueblo" is preferred to describe these ancient peoples."
You can see from what the Dine' guy stated that once the anastazi were beaten the slaves dispersed and were assimilated into various pueblo dwelling tribes. They were not anastazi. But here we have historians using fear of hate speech to group them all together. Also consider, why is the term anastazi considered derogatory? By who? The anastazi are all gone...or are they. Why the effort to erase the name anastazi? Just speculating here but anastazi is pretty close to ashkenazi. Is there a link? I think so.....
Here is a clip of some dude talking to bro jogan about the anastazi:
He states that the dna from a number of the anastazi show the trait of polydactyly or 6 fingers or 6 toes. Many of the giants were said to have polydactyly. Every notice that so many statues from ancient history have their arms and legs chopped off? Maybe it's nothing but maybe it was because they showed this trait and it would make people start to wonder.
If a slave had an extra digit in line with the others he would be freed. Wonder why???? haha, geez.
More polydactyly in Chaco:
"Divine spark" anyone? "Royalty?" lol.
The raising of the hand saying "How" of some American Indians is said to be to show that one has 5 fingers and thus not an enemy of mankind. Brother what we have here are the "wheat and the tares."
Polydactyly is more common in the bedoin and jеwish population than any others. 
The pharisees of science can't figure out what caused the increased amount of polydactyly in the anastazis and they drone on about the possibilities of diet triggering epigenetics etc. Nope. They're not like us. But now we live in a world where the genes have been spread around and these regressive traits are often not expressed.
I think you will find this article of interest. The author lives in Arizona and has some interesting knowledge and experiences.
"It is a common theory among alternative history theorists that as the genetics of these royal/king bloodlines broke down generation after generation due to breeding with humans, the genetic traits which accompanied them faded. The physical traits first. Heights, extra fingers, perhaps thicker skin, heightened animistic senses of smell and sight. However, what remains is the appetite for violence and ritual. The base and most powerful instincts of these creatures. Instincts and behaviors which are found aplenty in corporate and political leaders today. Charles the VIII was said to have 6 toes on each foot, and Henry the VIII’s second wife Anne Boleyn had an extra finger on one hand. Monarchy is known for inbreeding in order to maintain power and of course, monarchy throughout history is known for insanity."
This is a 4 hour long interview with a Christian guy named Tim Bence. To summarize, Bence has been led to sites that contained sacrificial altars. He prays and the altars break. He was called out to Jekyl Island and didn't know why or what he was going to do. When he got there he asked around and went to a museum that housed artifacts from the former native "indian" culture that inhabited the area. Bence was given a tour by the museum director and noticed a couple things. The "indians" were quite large at 6 foot in comparison to most native cultures. He noticed that there was an artists rendition of the tribe doing ritual sacrifice of babies. The sacrificial altar is under a house now. The house was specifically built over it and belonged to the Rockefeller family. It was in a room of the house that is directly over the altar that the creeps with rockefeller met secretly to hatch the plan to create the federal reserve and thus debt slavery for all. He prayed over the altar and a loud crack was heard by he and the museum director which he thinks was the altar breaking. In my opinion Bence sounds genuine. So think about this...Chaco, Cahokia, Aztec, Mayan, this tribe on Jekyl Isiand all did human sacrifices, all enslaved lots of people. It seems to me that there was a network of this culture possibly all over the world and at some point was wiped out or at least they migrated to different areas at different times and did what they do best.
Anyway, food for thought from the wanderings of a lunatic in the desert.
Regards
Banjo

Banjo! A feast for thought.
I can’t watch the videos.
I will simply add some things I have come across in my reading.
Sarah Winnamucka and also a Klamath Indian woman both tell wrote books that include tales of giants, “whites” with red hair, and that the Shoshone slaughtered these man-eaters. Do note that the idea of “white” as a race has origins that are not Arуan, European or Christian and can be traced no earlier than 1300 and was not in general use until the 1700s.
I was a hundred miles east of Chaco in February, on the Laguna High Plain and viewed old pre-Columbian watch-towers and a cliff forts of stone that the local tribes occupied and abandoned, before the settlers came. These people lived in hiding and the Apache and Dine tell of how they were prayed upon by Chaco cannibals. The many pottery shards in the area are left over from the water pots these people used, who ate a lot of pine nuts. The cannibal invaders could not starve them out of the cliffs, but, as my guide stated, “thirsted them out,” by breaking the clay water pots hidden below.
Carolina was said to be home to a Hebrew tribe when first contact was made. Baruch, who has done extensive work on the lost tribes of Isrаel, thinks that some Hebrew ancients made it to North America. There is also a possibility that during the Inquisition, some Jеws, rather than fleeing to Flanders Holland and England, migrated to North America.
The main Semitic group involved in long range maritime trade were Carthaginians, Punic speakers, descended from the Phonecians [1], who operated extensive copper mines in the Great Lakes as long ago as 1777 B.C.! Circa 700 B.C. Hanno left an inscription in New England. Phonecian vessels included great ocean going ships of sail. The 1800s saw extensive scholarship on Isrаelite settlement in the New World, to include Mormon scholars, who are very inquisitive and accurate investigators.
Cahokia had a great wall surrounding it. The current academic psychobabble about these walls was that they were symbolic or for protection against bears. Just as the leading urban historians cite the locking of Egyptian gates from outside the city as protection for the inmates, this is also stupidly a lie, making zero sense. Walls are to keep prisoners in or enemies out.
I met an Amish patriarch in April 2020 who told of a family called the Six-finger Schwartz’s.
There is no greater tangle of lies and omissions than Pre-Columbian American History. The debate over the many antiquities, to include Gaelic and Norse iron forges and slag heaps in Virginia, Pennsylvania and the Ohio Valley raged from the 1820s thru 1850s. The evidence included the physical shards of over 30 Old World alphabets found in Pennsylvania. Both William Morely 1743 and Gottlieb Mitterberger 1756, wrote about personally inspecting the tombs of giants and the iron bound doors of structures not built by the Tribes, with tribesmen as guides, insuring the Europeans that these were the remains of other races, not the work of their forefathers. The legends of the Stonnish Giants and Wendigo also stand as testimony that something brutal and cannibalistic assailed the native tribes. This debate though, refereed by the Smithsonian, which wished to begin its foundation with an unchanging, rock solid, undebatable pre-Anglo history for America, was won by a political speech writer from New England, not a scientist. Ever since, science has been dedicated to upholding that man’s political opinion that no civilized folk could have ever touched these shores before the Spanish, French, Dutch, Swedish and English. Much closer seafaring folk like the Basque, Irish, icelanders and the men of Norway could have ever made the cruise.
Finally, Mort, in his relation of the so called Pilgrim’s invasion of New England in 1622, which was in no way a religious, but a commercial affair, describes the burial of a blond mummy king and the elevated timber fortress—complete with a bridge entrance—of a king who seems to have been recently slain with or by English pirates. The King himself may have been a pirate.
America is a dream fabricated from whole cloth by the best liars ever spawned in Satan’s womb. The Father of Lies owns this nation like a sword smith owns the blade he is forging. If the quenching of this terrible sword is ever befouled by a drop of truth, that mighty soul-swallowing blade might crack.
Notes
-1. See the story of Dido in the Aeneid.
05.28.25   Todd Ianuzzi — That was awesome. I'm just going to believe it
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posted: May 28, 2025   reads: 545   © 2025 Todd Ianuzzi
‘Large Enough to Fill His Hand’
Considering The Agrianes #1: Aried Notes with McCorman: 2/22/25
Don't wanna wreck my shoulders like all throwers do, but seems to me being able to powerfully & accurately throw small-to-midsize ground litter would be a boon, especially when travelling outside of the States. Any considerations, advice on training, historical role models, and so on you can give me?

The good reader, concerned with self-defense, does not want to wreck his shoulder hurling bricks, but wishes to be able to.
Sir, it took some months for me to get to the gmail box.
For those interested in contacting me about writing or fighting, or if a homeless, 21-year-old Dominic stripper babe that looks stout enough to haul my ruck is inquiring of you as to a proper master, the email I can access 11 months of the year is jameslafond@proton.me. The Gmail I can only access when I stay with certain folks, about 2 months a year.
Your question on throwing as one who once could throw well, and now cannot throw at all, due to shoulder injuries, intrigued me. This sat in outlines as a prompt until I listened to the Iliad last night and, knocked a dent in my forehead turning around in the chicken coop and catching a beam end. Despite wearing a hat, and a hood, and getting nowhere near a concussion, and suffering no disorientation, I earned an injury courtesy of something harder than bone, one that still throbs a day later.
I will finish with my practical experience throwing and threatening to throw for self defense. First, we consult the master source, the book that Aristotle said held more truth than any, and which Alexander, the most successful war fighter of Antiquity, claimed held all the keys to war. Modern academics only treasure the Iliad for its verse structure and the many practical analogies the author uses for everyday activity, like weaving, and harvesting grain. One and all they laugh at stone throwing as a method of war. The use of hurled and even clubbed stones is more prominent than sword use in most battle scenes.
Patroculus hurls at Sobriedes, Hector’s driver, hit the “forehead, crushed both brows and smashed the bones and both eyes fell down in the dust in front of him.”
Island and mountain slingers were highly valued troops, with a reduced size of missile and an artificially extended arm by way of the strap. There was also a type of light troop drawn from slaves and youths who fought with sticks and threw stones. Might the man who never lost a battle, trained up for war from birth, have known something about war that modern scribes do not?
Alexander’s father had his shoulder crushed by a stone. The man who most emulated Alexander, a hundred years later, Phyrus of Epirus was killed by a roof tile. Homer describes often how stones crush helmet and head within. Alexander himself would fight in more sieges than battles. And his skirmishes, where makeshift missiles are often used from ambush, were many.
The ancient Greeks practiced and competed in throwing large stones, a discus, something then, but not now, regarded as practical for war.
Smashed bones is the most permanent injury that does not kill by bleeding or organ damage, maiming a man. The houses full of pensioners after the various black powder wars and the stacks of amputated limbs during the American Civil War attest to the lasting nature of bone crushing injuries from low velocity blunt missiles. Though Alexander lost few killed in battles and sieges, he always left wounded veterans behind who were unable to march any longer, but could still fight well enough to defend a fort. This speaks to hip and leg injuries.
David slew Goliath with a stone from a sling. But Ajax could have done it without a sling.
At the dawn of firearms, Verrocchio, Leonardo’s master, had once been found guilty of killing a youth of a rival band in a stone-throwing fight.
Finally, we should not forget that stone-throwing, from the wall tops, and at the walls with machines, were methods of warfare from the earliest times, represented by Homer when he describes Hector smashing the gate to the Greek camp with a great stone, and in references to the aims of war and the plight of women.
“Our city and our women,” said Palidamis to Hector, on the war aims of Achilles.
The great chorus of mourning Trojan and Dardan women got by “sacking many a great city,” crying for their master Achilles over his best friend Patroclus, represent the vast haul of “booty” such as Alexander got at Mount Haimus, consisting predominantly of, to put it on postmodern English, BOOTY!
I wrote something years ago about my spear-throwing experiments as a youth.
When I was 31 I went to engage 3 youth and two men in front of my house, who had come to take my oldest son for failure to comply with reparations recovery in front of Ham’s liquor store, when he ran rather than give up his wallet and outran the unbeatable, unraceable Gawds of all sports!
The two big prison groes in front were my aim, the three punks just there to pile on. The man with the scar on his face had a brick, the other a bottle. I was probably getting hit in the head with one of these items while I took out the other with my jobolo wood baton. So, I got my gun and ran them off with a much better mineral-throwing device.
About this time I was stoned by a pack of 12-year-olds in the front yard of Mayor Martin O’Malley while his cop guard read the sports illustrated swimsuit edition. If they had been men, who knew how to throw, I may well have been killed.
Attacked in a supermarket once by a fellow worker who was a powerlifter, a man who picked up the pallet of canned goods between us in a rage and slammed it down, I grabbed one of these cans of peas and backed away.
He shambled after me talking of crushing my bony form.
I extended my left hand, fingers pointed between his eyes, knowing I had but one cast, laid the can in my right hand, back over my shoulder, grabbed the rim of the can with my long fingers like a pitcher does the seems of a baseball, and determined not to throw until his face was almost touching my left fingers, almost insuring contact. He got it, circled me for many minutes and eventually suffered an adrenaline dump and went off crying.
In 2020 I had this experience in Utah with a large dog and his pack. The dog had a sense for when I could hit him and how close not to get. A motorist broke it up with his car.
I cannot practice throwing hard, but have practiced easy close range casts to examine the tumble of missiles.
The best object to throw, is as Homer said, one that fits inside the hand, a baseball or lacrosse ball, or a stone of that same size.
Common items that work best are:
Short canned goods, with rims top and bottom, like cranberry sauce, condensed milk and corned beef, that will tumble rapidly if the fingers are used to initiate spin, which increase the chance of hitting with the rim.
Rounded river rocks that are often used for landscaping in the burbs.
Quarter bricks.
Half bricks.
Jagged chunks of concrete.
Short slab chunks of asphalt. If it is too big, I have been able to break these in pieces with my hands.
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posted: May 26, 2025   reads: 523   © 2025 James LaFond
The Fence Line: Conduction
Pyreon #2. C & D
Foreword to Debriefing Notes
Ted Pyreon claimed candidly, and too easily to be deceptive, to hold no internal dialogue with himself. He might speak to his gear, in low tones. He certainly calculated constantly, having something of a topographical tactical map in his mind, seemingly imprinted through his optic interface, which does pain him since a blow to the head by a thrown maul a decade or more ago. To this auditor, Ted expressed a near disbelief that a person would hold a soliloquy with themselves, let alone conduct a regular internal monologue. He imagined thinking sometimes to the trees—as a collective, usually—the mountains, always as individuals, to the rivers, always as male spirits, to his gear, always female, and to certain heavenly apparitions he refers to as “day stars.”
Debriefing content is primarily represented in action narrative and dialogue, which Ted is able to recall with startling clarity, with the debriefing notes at the end of each action report, limited to the Auditor’s impressions of the conductor’s status.
-Matt Styer, Auditor, Uplink Inc., APM
The low hum of the ETV always calmed him, especially since this was how Dave Billy had bought it, cruising along in slow serenity on the way to all-welcoming Eternity, shot through the neck with a Winchester 30/30, in olden style.
“Baby, this is the last roundup, sweet ole you the last piece of predawn hardware. We’re lucky, I suppose…”
The warmth at the base of his skull warned him that he was being watched. He did not know how, or why, but had grown to trust that “eye” in the back of his head.
He had just left a timber stand, the third stand, was in the third meadow, having crossed the third gulch. Baby had eaten up these ten miles quite handily. His right eye pained him as it squinted, wanting the optic. He gave in and mounted the optic, the whir of the telescopic augment syncing with the burning pain branching in three strands from the base of his skull: over top to the eye mount, above the ear to the nose, and again, above the ear down around the teeth, which throbbed, top and bottom on the right side.
He could see Travis a half mile off, in clear outline, setting up in a shooting blind with what looked to be a homemade shotgun.
“Travis, please don’t do me like this!”
“Come on, Baby, let’s go say hey,” and the ETV whined into ground-eating gear.
Above was a day star, something he had always known to be his blessing, God looking out for him. He had never once been bushwhacked under a day star.
Some a-one, and a-two and maybe a-three was watching him other than Travis, some folks he had passed coming out of the last timber stand. The rolls of wire had been neatly stacked all along the line, the fence posts used to stake the wire hillocks in place so that they might form the basis for vine, shrubs, berries, offer refuge to small creatures as Earth healed after man’s 10,000 year attack on its mother. Travis had done nice, reverent work.
Up west, as Travis laid his ambush up east, Ted noted a whackado, a malfunctioning drone, working on an old street light pole which had somehow evaded military removal and had outlived its dead-end road. Fallowers [1] like Travis, had no safe means of taking down such a pole, where, it seems, a dead-end road once came to an end in front of what had been a small repeater station for an extended power grid. It could be seen that Travis had dismantled that small building and the hardware. It may well have been an illegal installation committed by anticollectivist types.
In any case, the moaning of the galvanized steel street light pole was palpable, as the malfunctioning, but not disabled, drone gnawed upon the zinc waterproofing. David Billy had been the first to note this activity and had christened these drones whackado, after his stepmother, who had gone insane from alcohol abuse.
The day star smiled upon him, winked even, up in heaven where she lived, to occasionally bless Ted in times of trial and tribulation.
The pole moaned and groaned in protest of its gnawing by the whackado. [2] The groan was something of a grind and the moan something like wind speeding through a metal culvert, like the one Ted had once hid in outside Evenstan Wyoming when being hunted by ferals.
In the near distance Ted could see the dugout sod house in the base of the south face of that grand, unnamed mountain. Ted looked up to the mountain and nodded, “Boss, be off yer feet soon as convenient for Travis here.”
Seeing Travis within fifty yards to the east, whackado and pole to the west, big Mountain North and knowing Matt was observing from Wonderview Cabin away south, Ted parked Baby, not wanting her shot. He left her on the west side of the mountain seep that smelled so sweet between he and Travis, gave an open hand of friendship to the man behind his Conductor hunting blind and walked easily towards him, his eye burning with pain from the optical.
“Snap yer pic already, Peep Girl,” he sneered to the optic, and she did so.
“Fucking Fed!” yelled Travis as the muzzle of his gun rose and Ted raised his hands, open in peace, saying, above the distant metal groan, “Work’s done, Travis. I’m juz here ta offer ye,”
“Boom,” roared the shot gun and Ted was smashed in the gut with a full ounce of lead and hit in the left shoulder with a slug, like a combination slug/buckshot load and slammed to his back, almost out of air. The blood ran hot down his shoulder as he heard Travis reload and leave the blind with angry stomping tramps, “Fuckstone, ain’t sneaking me with your sub-lethal, foe-friendly dumdum gun!”
Ted, still flat on his back, already had his dumdum drawn, out to the side, facing south as Travis stamped from the east cocking his trigger.
“I know, Trav, ain’ hardly fair.”
Ted shot the dumdum south, with a dull compressed air thud, and the deploying smart slug spread its reflective tail, gathered the imprint of Travis Branch from Ted’s optic, which burned Ted’s brain like hell. In the eagle seat, so to speak, from his back, Ted had the dour duty of seeing the world through the dumdum head—dumb no longer—and guiding it in remotely through the optical link.
“Fuck me running!” yelled Travis, who sounded to be about 45 to 50 years old.
Travis turned to shoot the whirring dumdum with his really well made bootleg firing iron, and Ted whispered to Peep Girl, “U to the six,” and as Travis fired the dumdum dropped, circled around behind him at an accelerating speed and slammed him in the spine, above L-5.
“Uhh!” groaned Travis, and Ted made it his business to rise despite the blood and pain and administer last rites.
Taking the optic out and walking to Travis, through a near swoon, Ted was soon on one knee next to the man with a snapped spine, “Hey Travis, I’m here for you, name’s Ted. On behalf of Uplink and Ilion Dawn…”
Travis spat in his face. Through the dripping saliva Ted continued, “I thank you for your service. I was to offer you Uplift of marooner. But, seeing as you are crippled, ye seem ta be on Uplift course.”
“Fuck you, Fed!”
“Name’s Ted, Sir.”
“Fuck you, Ted the Fed!”
“Baby Girl!” called, Ted and the ETV powered up and rolled to his side.
Travis looked at the ETV in a kind of horror, “Really, you assholes built an ETV around Jeep Gladiator tires?”
One of the Kevlar saddle bags opened and a spider drone hopped out, its little radar dish head activated for command.
Ted continued his duty, “Travis Branch, on behalf of Earth, Uplink and Ilion Dawn, Pyreon offers Uplift to the destination of your choice.”
“What the fuck?!” shouted Travis.
“Travis, what will be your chosen benediction?”
“Fuck you!”
“Elysium?”
“Eat a dick!”
“Nirvana?”
“Are you fucking kidding me, you retarded meat stick!”
“Oblivion?”
“You aren’t joking, are you?”
“Heaven?”
“Bullshit—this is bullshit!!”
“Paradise?”
“Do I still get seventy three virgins to fuck? No, don’t answer that, you moron. No!”
“Valhalla, it is—my favorite choice, actually,” smiled Ted tenderly, honestly. As he deployed his Uplift key, tilted Travis’ head so he faced the patiently waiting drone, and turned the key in his Uplink port at the base of his skull, he prayed, “AllFather who dwells above the Tree of Life.”
As this occurred, Travis, who was quite alive, and now in full paralysis, beyond all physical pain, had his eyes locked in red beams that emitted from the base of the drone, which squatted and reformed into the image of a Viking long house, crowned with a mead horn. From this effigy shrine clashed in a chorus of brassy tones ash spear hafts and oaken shields, and in the foreground of an iron ax head and sword steel, as a deep voice boomed:
“Travis Branch,
fought well.
Travis Branch,
bought the hero’s reprieve from Hel.”
A Raven cawed
“As death birds fly,
wolves streak the sky,
a hero is called home,
to Odin’s hallowed hall,
to fight and die by day,
to revive and feast by night—
Welcome home, Hero!”
Crows called in a great murder, and the miniature mead hall shown crimson as the twin beams from it cast a nimbus about Travis, outlining him in a crucible of fire.
Ted kept the sacred seven count as the benediction transformed the effigy and he who was called home.
The mead-hall effigy turned to bronze and the recumbent form of Travis was cast in a silvered carbon, in the image of a slain warrior, with Travis’ features, but with braided beard and hair, conical helmet and a belted suit of mail, boots laced high on his still feet.
Above the still image of Travis, Ted, saluted the fallen form, then looked up to the day star that suddenly blinked out, his weather-beaten hand to his sadly-beating heart.
The weapon was retrieved, the blind left to the wind and the sod lodge to the marooners, Ted silently riding between the watchers in the woods, whose eyes made the eye in the back of his own head burn, the cursed silicon augmented eye too.
Debriefing
Ted seemed sad and outwardly reflective as I extracted the slug from his left shoulder, stitched him up, bandaged him and conducted the debriefing, which has been reconstructed according to the recording then made. Ted converses in an oddly—even disturbingly—lineal fashion, omitting no detail later recalled, almost as if he has done so much of this work that his mechanical recall is timestamped into his subconscious, which I must imagine is a harrowing place to visit when one sleeps. I do not envy Ted his dream life.
-M. Styer
Notes
-1. Fallower is a term denoting a volunteer temporary marooner on earth tasked with minimizing traces of man’s destructive progress.
-2. Malfunctioning drones seem to maintain powers of self repair through ingesting zinc, used to coat steel against rust. It is not known how long their solar chargers will be able to maintain their ravenously mechanical lives.
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posted: May 25, 2025   reads: 328   © 2025 James LaFond
The Fence Line: Briefing
Pyreon #2.B
Matt sat looking at Ted, who stood before the window, right of desk, left of hearth, looking into the distance, past Coal Canyon and the waste of the flushed reservoir, beyond the weather-hewn ridge, beneath the near mountain. The Conductor was not using his optic, but seemed to be thinking in some topographical way gleaned from his nearly half a century rounding up the last of the Uplinked human heard and, in a karmic balance, feeding the marooned.
Ted opened his wrist watch expectantly, and so Matt began the last series of computer-watch interfaces that would grace—or curse—Earth among now living men. A red dot appeared on the topographical window of the screen, on the inside of the clam-shell lid, that was almost large enough to occupy the back of that weathered hand. Ted drew his rotary optic with his right hand, inserted it under his single silicon brow implant, visible only as the absence of an eye brow at first glance. Once inserted, the optic was calibrated by the wearer’s first finger sliding the silicon dial behind his ear. The line of sight beams each interfaced with the watch screen in three colors: red, yellow and green, as the optic extended in three telescopic evolutions. Once green dilated, the optic retracted to a squint, opal cat’s eye, with tri-color pupil. [0]
As Matt was observing this with some awe, he briefed Ted:
“Travis Branch, 7th generation Coloradan. Uplinked and certified for Uplift with wife, June, and daughter Betty in 2071, at Granby. With passing of wife and daughter in a flash flood in 2081, Travis elected to remain and has been removing fence line. He is stacking the last of it now. He has got something else going on down there. But the local drones under my network have gone dead or whackado. The Ilion Dawn Uplift Steward has not received a request for Uplift, or for Remission. [1] You are tasked with conducting Uplift or Remission, according to the wishes of Mister Branch.”
Ted yawned, oddly, removed his optic, which caused his uplink port to glow dully blue under his wavy white hair grown to his shoulders. Ted wore a gray tactical vest & tactical cap—such an ancient uniform of control—which had various tools secured in molded velcro slots: Uplift key, that was too near a Phillips’ had screwdriver to inspire much confidence in the technology, a Remission key, again too like a pair of needle nose pliers to inspire transhuman confidence in Matt’s curation mind, his dumdum slugs in 4 short 3-round bandoleers.
Below his Conduction belt featured an incredible buckle of titanium, called the Pyreon, which was detached for Uplift. On the left was a forestry machete, a classic Kershaw. On the right was the holstered dumdum gun, holding a ribbon of three shells, and the optical explant in its case.
“Questions,” gasped Matt, shocked at how out of focus THE penultimate Conductor was in person, the man that seemed like a wizard on screen trace, now diminished to a whimsical gnome in person.
“Travis’ Faith?”
Matt sighed, knowing he had left the one negative for last and that Ted sensed it, “It was originally, at Uplink, Uplift, an existential belief in science and a future with his family, among the planets and moons, to seed the stars and eventually reseed earth in a new balance. He never recertified when he opted out, which is troublesome and why he heads the list. The way he is working down there—building a sod house into a hillside, I think—I suspect he is hoping for Remission.
‘Get with it nerd Auditor. You thought he was droning out but he was ahead of you—not his first time…’
“I wish I could have provided timely intelligence on what the handful of people across this canyon have been doing for the last year. But first the focus was all on operations elsewhere. Then, when I had to manage my own backyard, I found that the drones were failing or going whackado, that the Steward has stopped asking for intelligence and seems to be reliant on orbital means…”
Ted looked at him with a hard narrow eye, and raised his finger to his lips for silence.
“The Steward knows what he is doing, some rebel transhuman, or even a feral, might have salvaged a listening device—think of all of the street light cameras out in the rurals and burbs. Think the military missed not one out of a billion?”
Ted, while saying this, was shaking his head “no” as if what he was saying was total bullshit, and then gave another narrow glance at the desk top array, as if it could not be trusted.
Matt nodded, “Okay,” or at least that’s what he thought it meant.
Ted gave him a friendly look, winked with his unaugmented left eye, and asked, “Have any aspirin. This optical implant has been killing me for twenty years now, why I take it out, can’t stand the pressure on the top branch of the nerve for long. So I memorize the topography.”
“Sure, how are you elsewhere. My aid station is first rate, plan on leaving the low tech supplies in a cache before Final Uplift when this house bomb self-detonates.”
Ted was matter-of-fact, “Knees are shot but braced, back too, both hips torn—have to stand on the ETV, which is charged thanks to your great station—way to go maintaining the solar array. Most auditors let that lax and then you’re always on half charge.”
Matt led Ted down stairs, beneath the wonderfully chinked beams of the HQ cabin, past the storage rooms, basement wood stove and the woodpile, and outside to the charging station, right next to the well.
There stood the most overbuilt, ostentatious, piece of copaganda [4] artifact ever designed and committed by Late Stage Metastatic Western Civilization.
The ETV Conduction Model, was a Honda motocross frame, powered by a 32 battery undercarraige, seemingly built around two old Jeep Gladiator tires.
“Fucking stupid! Really—it looks too gay by half, like an ode to off-roading executed by some Tech Mogul carpet surfing homo!”
“It weighs two grand, Bro!” chortled Ted, like a giddy youth, reminding Matt that the orphan boy recruited at 15 loved this overbuilt piece of comic book gear like Matt’s own Granddad had adored his 2023 Dodge Charger, last gas guzzler of that storied line.
“My bad, okay—cool in a comic book way. The saddle bags are practical Kevlar, I give you that. And the tires are salvage and make the bike frame wide enough that the batteries are double stacked under the running board side by side—all throttle control?”
“Yezzir, shift wit da thumb.”
Matt grinned at seeing a sixty-year-old teenage man-hunter recalling a few childhood years on the skateboard, and understood the Conductor’s attachment to the machine.
The vehicle came to life as it was rocked off the quad kick stands and Matt spoke levelly over the easy hum of the thing, “My regards to Mister Branch, and my thanks for the work on the fence-line.”
Speaking to someone other then Matt, that ear possibly belonging to the ETV, Ted nodded and said, “Lez go say hey ta Travis, Baby.”
And the hideous machine with its fey rider were off down the mountain into the pines, the breeds of which Matt had yet failed to identify as he obsessed over the last inventory of human technology.
‘One week to nowhere,’ he thought in his troubled mind’s eye.
Notes
-0. Matt would not bother the Conductor with his nerdish deduction that his optic was based on the now extinct three color traffic light. Though the thought did infect his mind that the optic, was a traffic light of a relentless kind.
-1. An orbital observation post scheduled to remain on station, with crews rotating in from Moon Base #3 annually, through 2199, supposing it survives the expected near miss of the comet in 2097. Matt supposed station morale was currently at a new low as they awaited death by ice and fire from the Galactic Core.
-2. Remission is a request that may be made by any Uplinked person, who is, by definition, transhuman, to be returned to a natural state by the removal of the Uplink. A conductor performed Remission, Uplift, and, for those who had never been uplinked, commonly called ferals, delivery of Humanitarian Daily Rations.
-3. Electric Terrain Vehicle
-4. A secret notion of Matt’s, that police were bad and had been wedded together with the ancient art of propaganda to achieve a weird beneficent delusion, that the policeman, the company, the government, were your friend.
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posted: May 24, 2025   reads: 336   © 2025 James LaFond
Watchers and Psalm 82
Comparing David to Homer with Banjo: 3/23/25
Watchers and 82
Fri, Jan 3, 12:41 AM
to me
James,
I was reading your site and came across the Enemy of Mankind post. I very much look forward to reading this when you complete it.
Consider Psalm 82 and the work done by Michael Heiser.
82 God standeth in the congregation of the mighty; he judgeth among the gods.
2 How long will ye judge unjustly, and accept the persons of the wicked? Selah.
3 Defend the poor and fatherless: do justice to the afflicted and needy.
4 Deliver the poor and needy: rid them out of the hand of the wicked.
5 They know not, neither will they understand; they walk on in darkness: all the foundations of the earth are out of course.
6 I have said, Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most High.
7 But ye shall die like men, and fall like one of the princes.
8 Arise, O God, judge the earth: for thou shalt inherit all nations.
Heiser argues that psalm 82 illustrates that the big God Yahweh has a "divine counsel" that consists of his children. These gods rule over principalities on earth and in psalm 82 Yahweh is calling them out for not doing their job properly. He states that man is walking blindly along, implying that the job of the gods is to guide humans in the areas they rule over. 82 goes on to say that even though they are his children they will die like men. So we have the rulers of earth doing an unjust job and seemingly being reprimanded and possibly punished by eventual death. This might cause some anger between child and Father. Cause a rebellion maybe? From what I have read it seems like Eden is under the rule of Yahweh but the rest of the earth is not unless Yahweh decides to step in. He gives his children free will as humans have free will to do as they will. So what does a world look like if the rulers have decided to rebel against their ruler and Father?
I remember Heiser state concerning the book of Job that satan is not the name of an entity but the title of an entity who's job is in his name—- "accuser" or "adversary." Thus it is his job deemed by God to be the adversary and test Job. In Job satan states he has been cruising around earth. If his job title is adversary it follows that he was probably going around doing his job. Also note that God asks him where he has been indicating that God doesn't keep track of him though of course he could. So like the divine counsel that has been doing crummy things to humans could satan also go off the chain sometimes if he stays within his work duties as prescribed by the heavenly HR department? So he is just out testing humans. Seems pretty accurate.
In thinking about Christ, here we have The Son of God taking human form. We see God taking a human form in Genesis too when he is walking around looking for Adam and Eve. God gives free will to humans and also the gods that rule the areas of earth. God doesn't mess up their game. Play on playa'. So he slips his Son in via a virgin birth in a barn. Nondescript except for the star alignments that pull the Wise Men in. In John 8 Christ goes after the devils who are in the form of man. He states that they are from below whilst he is from above. That he is not of this world but they are of this world. Well this is pretty interesting. Not of this world? Adam was not of this world, he was of Eden and then cast into this world that seemingly must have been going on before Adam because Adam's son Cain built cities implying that there were already people in this world to make a city for. I have read some people make a distinction between the day 6 people of Genesis and Adam as in, there are two creation stories. I don't know as I am just a generalist of things and just relating some probably incorrect ideas from my feeble mind. Further in John 8 Christ states that the Pharisees questioning him are of their father the devil. So we can see the distinctions here Christ is not of the devil nor of this world. The Pharisees are of the devil and of this world. Eden stands in contrast to earth that Adam was cast into after transgressing. Anyway, John 8 is pretty astounding as Christ tricks the "jews" into admitting that they are not Judahites but that's another story.
So Christ is crucified for hate speech and thought crimes. The devils cheer and think they have won but lo and behold Christ comes back from the dead and what does he do? He goes to the Abyss and tells the fallen angels present there a little what for. Christ was crucified on Golgatha which means skull. There are some that say that this was the burial place of (at least the head) of goliath after David conked him and cut his head off. If so this is important because goliath would have been of the nephilim seed line and nephilim are strictly of this world, so much so that the fallen angels ask Enoch to plead their cases to let their children enter heaven when they die. God nopes on that and thus it is said that their spirits are stuck on this earth after they die. So Christ dies on the head of a nephilim and later goes down and talks to their parents.
So what I can't figure is where evil entered the world or whether it was here from the jump. We have Eve getting beguiled by the serpent. The serpent seed line theory people think that beguile means cinemax after dark if ya know what I mean. Thus their first child Cain was evil. I will come back to Cain on different subject in a bit. In Genesis we also have Jacob and Esau being born with second born Jacob grasping the heel of the elder Esau that seems a reference to God stating to Eve that there will be enmity between your seed (good) and the seed of the snake (evil). So God favors Jacob the second born which harkens to Adam the second born to the sons of God who rule the earth and possibly might be the serpent in the garden. (this gives motive for messing with Adam by the serpent (the elder to Adam)....if Yahweh gives Eden to his second born to look after and the first born gets jealous...well the elder might try to throw a stick in the bicycle wheels or an apple into a smoking hottie so to speak.) What this also speaks to is that evil isn't just some ether of bad but it is physical and it is some people. So if it is physical and in this realm it seems like it has to follow certain physical rules. Yahweh states that there are two seed lines that are against each other. One Adamic and one Serpent. So this must be passed via genetics. Maybe in the beginning it was very apparent who was evil and who wasn't. Later with all the genetic mixing maybe most people have a little bad seed and more good seed, while some the opposite and some have all evil. This could be an argument as to why bloodlines are so important to many seemingly evil people. Maybe doing evil and heinous acts is a way to signal that that person is in the serpent seed group in an attempt to gain access to the power and riches held by that group and to breed with them. If you have a tinfoil hat on then it sure seems interesting that companies like 23 and me took lots of dna data...and maybe that wasn't just for bioweapon development but to search out a certain seed line. This of course is lunatic crazy talk and probably incorrect but.... Also check out the parable of the wheat and the tares. They look the same and cannot be separated until the end of days for the wheat...pretty interesting concept presented there concerning evil..."They Live"
To get back to the Cain bit...You might find of interest the work of Tracy Twyman RIP. She and her x husband who supposedly committed suicide as Tracy supposedly did, got a ouji board and started talking to entities. The second or third one that came up was Cain. The interaction is quite interesting and gave info that they later found to be true. If I remember, this info validated the Genesis 6 nephilim fallen angel history....which is another entry point of evil into this world. Cain states something about the end of the world when things devolve into chaos and during that chaos he seemed to think that he could (as Nimrod attempted) storm heaven and take over pushing Yahweh from his throne. Tracy says that she was able to contact such entities and that anyone could do so also. If these things can be contacted and they have more knowledge than humans it seems that persons seeking the power of this world would definitely contact such beings....and at a price. This is probably something more akin to the power broker's religious beliefs than the term "satanism" that is usually used. Watcher worship? Fallen angel worship? (Blavatsky anyone?)
This is going to digress here from evil to watcher worship for a minute. Look at what was erected afterward there. First there is the one world trade building with the spire harkening to the tower of Babel and raiding heaven. Second there is the reflecting pool that has two negative space black cubes (saturn?) where water flows down into them. These are like opened tombs from the abyss that allow the fallen angel watchers to come back into this world. Finally we have the Oculus building that we are told is a hand releasing a bird or something like that. In reality it looks like the vertebrae of a heinous creature rising from the abyss. In the bottom of the building is a subway station that is covered in eyes ...oculus...eyes....watchers... So we have evidence of ritual not to satan but to the watchers/fallen angels. Once you see the watcher reference or fallen angel reference you will see it all over popular culture.
Well, I have already wrote too much schizo stuff and lost track of time. I have more thoughts on the corporeal part of evil in this world but I gotta get some sleep in before grinding for the masters of this world tomorrow. I'm gonna send this without proofing it because I'm too tired. I apologize in advance because I'm sure my errors are legion (haha, Bible pun/joke).
...
Hi James,
Good to speak with you again. Here is the Eustice Mullins book the Curse of Canaan.
...
God
“You are King of Heaven,” says Hera to Zeus.
I listened to a church sermon today, whose giver was just smart enough to mislead himself and his flock. He admitted to tolerating reading other books than the Bible. But no other books have a purpose beyond entertainment or critique. He even mentioned burning books, three times. This imposed ignorance, that most Christians—that is a solid most—rarely read other books after college and other humans rarely read a book after college, has resulted in a vast gulf of discord between readers of the Bible and those tiny number who read other books, or which few read the Bible. This sounds like a publishing house war for a limited number of readers.
500 years ago leading Christian thinkers read everything from Antiquity they could. No more, now they just read the Bible, with nothing but trust in their cult leaders to put that book into the broader context. For God was clearly working visibly among damned and doomed people worlds away from the tiny band of Chosen People he offered help to.
I will take a look at Greek lyric poets in another study.
For now Banjo, thanks for the prompt on Psalm 82, and let me cite Homer for parallel references to what sounds like the very same Supreme Universal Number One Deity as He who transformed Moses…
Do recall that the language all of the gospels were written was Greek, with one also in another Arуan tongue, Aramaic, and that even much of the scriptures were written in Greek first, before Hebrew. Greek is the original Christian language. It is also the language of Homer.
In the Iliad God has the following names, in order of how often they are used. The name Zeus, is a short hand, as is God rather than The God of Abraham or the Lord of Hosts. From least to most used in Antiquity’s most read book:
-1. Time-holder, He who is of, yet outside of, Time
-2. Father of Gods and Men, as described in Genesis, Job and Psalms
-3. Cloudgatherer or stormbringer, as is God in Exodus
-4. Aegisbearer, cloud shield or eye of the storm, symbolized by a hide cloak
-5. Almighty
-6. Zeus [Thunderlord]
-7. God
-8. All knowing
-9. All seeing
-10. Lord of, or Preeminent in Heaven, Lord of the Gods, King of the Gods
Many lesser cult titles are attached to Zeus. He is the God that oaths are sworn before and his most highly regarded daughter is Justice. [2]
Hermes, Apollo and Athene are the deceiver/warning gods who take the form of people and, like the angels who came to see Lot, trick some folks and warn others according to God’s will. Hermes, the messenger, in Hesiod is called Dog-killer, for dogs find him out and he must silence them like a spy. Apollo is closest to Satan in the pantheon, being the most deceiving god and doing much harm to men out of jealousy. Athene, the most powerful next to Zeus, his blue-eyed daughter who rides the storm but also protects certain cities, works the closest with God, who trusts her to know and work His will without having to spell it out as with Iris “Stormfoot,” his messenger.
In the Odyssey, an elder at council states that he would not speak falsely before God. Throughout both poems it is the sentiment of God Almighty, Timeholder of the Thundercloud, that humans are the most suffering beings in Creation, that this is doubly sad in that after their brief life like a leaf on a tree, they are doomed to Hades forever. He has great admiration and wishes fame and good memories among the living, for those men who die protecting their people and are honestly in His service, who abide by His decrees, sent by His messengers from heaven.
Only the modern mind, who reads an apostle speaking of “All of Asia” having heard the Gospel in less then 30 years, and applies that from Istanbul to Tokyo, when it meant from Antioch to Alexandria along the Middle Sea in A.D. 51, [1] could be idiot enough to read the Iliad the Odyssey and the Bible and not find more concord than discord. Discord was the most terrible Greek god.
Notes
-1. This was in a Baptist sermon today, that 12 unarmed men in sandals, without megaphones or cable networks or megachurches or church jets, covered tens of millions of square miles and spoke with hundreds of millions of people, in scores of languages, from A.D. 36 to 51. The pastor was making the point that nearly 2,000 years ago all of Asia deserved damnation for failing to heed the Gospels, just like a man whose summons is used as a napkin by a negligent officer of the court and left in a food court trash bin deserves to be shot in bed at dawn by a SWAT time for failure to appear.
-2. Hesiod, Works and Days
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posted: May 23, 2025   reads: 450   © 2025 James LaFond
Winter 2025 Writing Journal
December 16, 2024 thru March 19, 2025
Expenses
Train/bus = $698 1/27-2/20, $737 ticketed 3/13 thru 4/27
Hotel = 200, 300,
Food = [Portland] 33, 12, 24, 28, 16, 40, 40, 15, 7, 14, 16, 20, 40, 20, 10, 20, 40, 40, 5, 40, 32, 10 [San Jose] 6, 17, 5, 5 [LA], 7, 7, 17, 17, 5 [New Mexico] 5, 5, 12, 76, [Denver] 52 [PORTLAND] 20, 24, 12, 15, 5, 50, 10, 10, 10, 40, 5, 20, 80, 5, 10, 15
Medical = 12, 12, 12, 15, 12, 40, 200 ingrown toenail cut out, 15
December
-16. train delayed due to heavy rain and tornado south of San Jose, listened to Gibbon’s chapters 31 to 36, 1574, pack again and crutch to the station in the rain
-17. train trip, met Andy Perry
-18. arrival visits, met with Kelly’s widow, met with the Chief’s widow, skyped with Jeth on Thompson versus Bowie fight
-19. helped Kelly’s widow, squared away Igloo
-20. scheduled fiction posts out until march 1, trip to Washington with Wife, set up Christmas tree, shopping for Christmas dinner, cards and dominoes with Dog Soldier
-21. packing The Chief’s blankets, regalia, etc, cooked bison soup, posted nonfiction weekdays out to April 21, visit Chief’s wife in medical center, take her soup, put up Christmas tree, cards, whiskey, dominoes and die with Dog Soldier,
-22. 1697, Christmas prep, worst eye seizure,
-23. read James Anderson’s Feasting in the Viking Age, made chicken soup
-24. 1754, grave yard visits, wrapping presents, visit with Jason the Grocer
-25. 1267, Christmas calls, arrange and proof initial text of A Gaslight Knight at 6325 words, visit Kelly’s widow,
-26. skyped with Jeth over Teach versus Hung, 1707,
-27. 1347, pack Chief’s affects
-28. 1397, remove carpet and recondition floors in chief’s room, drank with the two Indian babe roommates
-29. removed carpet and conditioned floors in guest room, more drinking with Indian babes
-30. ham and beans, website posts, counsel Dog Soldier, 1708,
-31. 625, sobriety powwow at Oregon Conventions Center, first ever New Year’s Eve bar party, so weird
Articles/Chapters =9
Books = 0
January
-1. worst eye seizure in years, 570, begin reading The Dawn of Humanity,
-2. eye bad, skyped with Jeth, expanded structure of Vunak of Antares from 15 to 17 chapters, gamed chapter 9, set up chapter 10, proof Gaslight Knight 3.1, arrange text up to 2.3, post all 4 chapters out to March, 15, 1349, GK 3.2,
-3. cook beef and gravy, clean house, set up wife’s office, proof GK 3.2, sick
-4. extremely sick, 1470 GK 3.3, arrange text to 15,172 words, 1,159 GK 3.4, ham bone soup, read The Dawn of Everything to page 58
-5. 2096, made mashed potatoes, put together an end table, 1105, cards with Dog Soldier
-6. 1368, move new furniture in, shop, make chili, make shepherd’s pie,
-7. 1010, 1227, visit Mamma, pharmacy, post out to May, elders powwow
-8. buy tickets at train station, referee tribal dispute, make hot and sour soup, 1397
-9. 1077, to monthly elders lunch, bad eye seizure listen to audiobooks,
-10. proof 4 articles, read VU #7, call with Jeth, 1264 GK 4.2, redid last bedroom, played cards and dominoes until 3:00 PM
-11. edited/amplified GK 4.2, 1566 GK 4.3, worst eye seizure since 2022
-12. clean house, make chicken soup, 1138 GK 5.1,
-13. 1353 GK 5.2, 1183 GK 5.3, mad salmon chowder
-14. proofed GK 5.3, website links and email, to DMV, Movies, shopping, honey due this, that and the other thing…
-15. 1514 GK 6.1, 1616 GK 6.2, set up new bed for wife’s son,
-16. edited Chapter 8 of Vunak of Antares, skype with Jeth, proofed GK 6.2, 1293 GK 6.3, visit wife’s mom,
-17. box with O’Neal, get estimate from plumber, clean house, make keesh, record Myth 20 episode 3.5 hours, cards with Dog Soldier, email links, email book patrons,
-18. 1581, editorial call with Inthesegoingsdown, honey do day with wife, call with fighter, worst eye seizure ever
-19. 415, emails, restructure The Son of God, 1592, posted weekend fiction out to 4/27, weekday nonfiction out to 5/9
-20. 1833 GK 7.2, cook chili, clean, bad eye,
-21. 2259 GK 7.3, arranged text of A Gaslight Knight at 34,467 words, to the dump, to a powwow, clean kitchen
-22. proofed A Gaslight Knights to page 49, luncheon, binding eye seizure, 16 hours out,
-23. cooked pancakes, cleaned kitchen, proofed AGK to page 77, shopped, installed recliner, bad seizure, proofed AGK to page 217, at 34,580 words
-24. training consultation over phone, break out design of The Son of God to 7 books, eye bad, listen to Iliad,
-25. packed, 1025, eye seized bad, post,
-26. to San Jose, bad eye, audiobooks
-27. in San Jose, worse eye, can’t write, audiobooks
-28. in San Jose, bad eye, audiobooks
-29. bad eye, 1225,
-30. To LA & Joshua Tree
-31. To Alberquerque
Articles/Chapter = 25
Books = 1
Novels =1
February
-1. Alburquerque, terrible eye cycle, abated somewhat below agony by high elevation
-2. Laguna Seca, Outline 7 travel articles, frame Snow Ape, 809,
-3. Pagodas, Dulce,
-4. Laguna, ATV up box canyon
-5. Santa Fe
-6. Laguna, 1401,
-7. Albequerque
-8. Galesberg IL
-9. Chicago
-10. Denver, eye improving
-11. Golden, bad sinus infection
-12. Golden, begin writing again, emails, frame Pyreon, meet Herman
-13. Golden, frame Areiad, outline Pyreon, 1067, arrange text for Lane, 647, 1990,
-14. Golden, 1067, 2345,
-15. Golden, 716, Pyreon #0,
-16. Golden, 2215, 1425, 1279, eye popped, 1854, stocked firewood, made pasta sauce
-17. Golden, 1413,
-18. Golden, 1236, patreon posts to editor,
-19. ride to Denver, Train to Sacramento,
-20. train from Sacramento to Portland
-21. Portland, arrive, arrange training for April
-22. Portland, squared away, begin writing, emails, post training schedule
-23. do a 4 chapter skype with Jeth, clean, cook, re format Pyreon into Humanitarian Daily Ration
-24. 1294, made chili, shopped, cards with Dog Soldier
-25. 1324, take motherinlaw to lunch
-26. bad eye
-27. skyped with Jeth on Vunak of Antares
-28. Final skype on Antares, washed Crazy Dog in yard, cleaned house with wife,
Articles/Chapters = 16
Books = 0
March
-1. 1164,
-2. 1754, start Areid
-3. 1464, finish Vunak of Antares with Epilogue
-4. framed the conclusion of Plantation America out to 2028, 599,
-5. foot doctor, 1995,
-6. 2141, 3294 arranged text for Mourt’s relation
-7. 3214, boxed with Beast O’Neal, eye cut, 3824, 2697, 1623,
-8. 3118, 1175, 1249, 1932, 3012, finished Mourt’s Relation,
-9. 1296 HDR 1,
-10. 1517 HDR 1, walked out on wife at dive bar
-11. bought train tickets, bank, pharmacy, visit Mom, Lori, dollar store for Mom, Elder’s Powwow, dive bar
-12. walked out on wife for good before dawn, a cowardly act, crutched in the rain to bus, took bus to train station, picked up by The Geeze in Seattle, out to Cedar Mountain, 1489
-13. 1458, HDR 2, got on line with g computer and read or trashed 83 emails, answered 7, marked 5 for articles
-14. shopping with Mrs. Chosen, 1917 HDR 2.D, helped cook, cleaned kitchend cards
-15. 1483 Pyreon 3, 834, talked to Banjo
-16. Black Diamond Baptist Chapel, firewood, 1164, 1315, Pyreon 4, walked Mrs. Chosen and Toby, cleaned kitchen
-17. 1297 Pyreon 5, 1312 Pyreon 6, 779, arranged notes from Plutarch and Rufus for Advent, listen to lliad 9 thru 13
-18. shopping with Mrs. Chosen, walk Toby, 1629 Pyreon 7, clean kitchen and living room, 1333 Pyreon 8, 1068 Pyreon 9, listened to Iliad 9 through 12
-19. 700 Pyreon 10, 1034 Pyreon 11, 470 Pyreon 12, arrange text for Pyreon at 27,669 words including 7,509 words of nonfiction appendices, 1524 writing log
The worst winter of bad health I can recall, but with increased physical strength, has convinced this writer that three history books and one historical novel must be finished this year:
-1. Planting America
In This New Isrаel: Book 1: Earliest Known European Contact to 1699
-2. The Son of God—Advent
Alexander’s Expedition by Arrian: Book 1
Considering Alexander the Heroic & Arrian the Stoic
-3. Enemy of All Mankind
A Brief on The Eternal Foe of Humanity
-4. Grace
The Areid: Book 1
Late in a pulp writing a career I am in sight of wrapping up the huge American history messed I stumbled upon and beginning, too late I fear, a work on Alexander I have always felt beyond my capacity as a writer, and certainly my class as a man. Likewise, linked to both fo thee subjects I have finally lumbered into a history of conspiracy I have so long rejected.
Until next winter, if Providence grants it, I will try and stock up on legal, black market and veterinarian medicine so that I might survive next winter in a bid to complete Plantation America and get a second bet on Alexander’s still restive song.
Articles/Chapters: = 36
Books = 1
Novels = 1
Winter Totals
Articles/Chapters: 9 + 25 + 16 + 36 = 86
Books = 2
Novels = 2
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posted: May 21, 2025   reads: 386   © 2025 James LaFond
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