Jason, Maestro of the Esoteric Cafe is Interviewed

A week ago I boarded the Coastal Starlight at 8:30 PM in San Jose. A man who was older, nicer, and larger than I by three good measures, waited for me to board ad then offered to assist with my tactical pack, which, at 28 pounds was almost too much for this runty bone rack to stow overhead. One travels alone on the train and finds himself bumped out of seats by couples, or, at better run stations, assigned a seat with another singleton. For this reason I meet new folks.

If it is a big man or a nervous woman, I leave and spend the trip in the cafe car. This fellow was six feet or more, so I spent the night in the main car. Feeling bad for my rudeness the night before, I bought us each a cup of coffee. His accent was Australian, modified for U.S. ears. I informed him that he was the second Australian in my life, and that the first one, John Byrd, was my employer some 40 years ago and hated me, declaring that I was a white aborigine. Andy spoke about the raw deal the Abos had got in his country and had some questions about my aboriginal existence before becoming a Tramp. I learned a lot and was pleased for such good company. I cannot reconstruct Andy’s words from memory. Below, I will note what I can recall of Andy’s story.

I will append Andy’s tail to Bob Johnson’s memoir, “I Could Not Kiss Ass!” as these men are mirrors of a masculine kind.

First, Andy is a fine figure of an old hand, still fit, with an easy way. He expressed a desire to finally take on a female retainer. Andy has a 34 foot ocean going boat, which he would like to staff with a crew of one, who, I reckon, based on his evident eye strain peering across the aisle at the lovely thing ensconced there in form-fitting white sweats, that an athletic, slightly plump, brunette who would like a real Captain in her life, will do nicely.

Send applications to jameslafond@proton.me. If you are not accepted by Captain Perry, never fear, some courtesy will be arranged by Andy’s talent scout.

Andy was born on Tasmania, the West Virginia Down Under, up in the mountains in very primitive conditions favored by his father. His father had fought the Japanese in Indonesia. He was also deployed, previously, I think, to Tabruk as it was taken by the Axis, to Greece as it was overrun by the Germans, and Crete as it was subject to the largest airborne invasion to date. He was the last man to leave Crete as it was taken. He then served in North Africa in numerous battles. As a veteran of the overused and mistreated ANZAC Corp, Andy’s father learned to distrust the government. Andy recalls as a boy that while hiking through the snow above Hobart to fetch supplies with his father, that the old man turned and told him he was making too much noise.

“My father moved in total silence—you could not hear him step.”

As a teen Andy had been driving illegally, to take his brother to Boy Scouts. The sheriff told his father that Andy needed to leave Tasmania or he was destined for jail. Andy went to sea in various capacities. He described himself as “a big lump o’ lad,” who was good for fishing vessel work and that he did not ever sail to Antarctica when the work was made available.

When he was old enough he joined the Australian Navy and became a helicopter pilot, after qualifying to be a fixed wing aviator. The Australian Navy “got rid” of their planes, so helicopters it wa. He was assigned as a Liason Pilot. His conditions of service can be accessed via:

www.HueyVets.com, official website of EMU, Operators of EMU 309.

Andy was attached to two U.S. Army helicopter units, one being a cavalry troop. He saw one of his American colleagues shot in the head and the copilot lift him from his seat, put him behind, and save the craft. That fellow ended up becoming a forestry firefighter in California where Andy had the honor of reuniting with him after having worked as a bush firefighter in Australia. He described Australian firefighting as a joke compared to American methods and that the ability for Americans to throw huge amounts of money at a problem makes them very effective. He also described Australia as “the 51st State,” discussing the fact that USG dictates his nation’s foreign policy.

Andy was thrilled to be tapped for missions by a U.S. Special Forces Colonel and irritated to be chewed out and removed from a mess for having an Australian Navy regulation beard by a lesser Colonel. That colonel was Andy’s job for the next day and expected that Andy would ferry him about despite the hierarchical acrimony. Andy said, “Colonel or not, I was the captain of that [helicopter],” and then played a game of what is the matter with the plane with his crew chief. Disgusted, the colonel stamped off and the men had a free day to “repair” the craft.

In Vietnam Andy discovered that some officers were trying to win a war and others were simply concerned about points of decorum. He informed me that the Navy could not grant permission to “grow a beard,” that being God’s call. Rather, the sailor was granted “permission to cease shaving.” Some time later, a week, I think, the resulting growth was inspected by an officer, and if it was not some weak affront to beardliness, nature was permitted to take its bristly course.

After combat service in Vietnam with U.S. warfighters, Andy and his mates returned to peacetime service in, Perth, I think. Here they were informed that their wild tales of combat were lies, that they had learned nothing, that no lessons were learned in combat that could possibly improve upon Australian Naval Aviation. The war vets were targeted as pariahs, and as he put it, the Navy was such a small place, that an enemy made of one officer was made of all. Andy and his fellows were shunned and shunted and he ended up not completing his hitch and went into private service flying in Southeast Asia.

Since his younger days Andy has worked as a pilot, a fire fighter, as a fishery hand and sport boat captain, has a great boat made of painted gum wood which he and his son and some other fellows operate out of a balmy inlet in the tropical north of his nation, Queensland I think. He is proud to have a son who has not joined the military and is “a real hard man,” who lives by a code of honor and “sorts out,” those lesser sorts of men who insist on trouble. Andy’s son actually built a bunk over top of the engine so that he can wake and go right to work on the motor when at sea.

Andy was a gentleman, and even made certain his seat mate for a night and a day made it off the train platform in Portland on, “those sticks,” and swore that my inability to stow my pack was the fault, not of my decrepitude, but of an obstinate can of Spam.

Andy Perry spends a month at a time touring America, hosted by U.S. Aviators he met in Vietnam, who are a true family to him.

I had the pleasure of meeting a man who has been a captain, a captain of a boat in the south seas and a helicopter pilot in Southeast Asia in the conflict that has often been known as The Helicopter War. He is more than ten years older than I and offered to help me with my small pack, which I was having a hard time stowing. Too proud by half, I extracted the can of Spam that was holding up the stowage and said, “This is the offending party, Sir—I’m weak, but too proud to be outwitted by a can of meat, as well as bullied.”

“No offense. But I see you on sticks and with one eye…”

And this lesser geezer talked to that old hand for a good 10 hours. He made many friends among U.S. Army and Marine aviators, who he is currently visiting, in Vietnam when he served as an Australian Navy Pilot and Liason. Andy Perry, has assured me that some of his war stories are in a book titled Too Bold To Die, for which he was interviewed. I will write my recollections of his reflections in another article. I have noted him here, because his view of life as a captain of his own boat and of a government flying machine, as well as piloting for private companies, jives with everything that every military man has told me about modern military service—that the officers who do not go into combat, which is most of them, are far less concerned with “winning” the war they are in, than they are with hamstringing the warriors under their command. Soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines and such are fine, as long as they are as obedient as a whipped dog. But men who are warriors at heart, from top to bottom, are treated as full-time traitors to the system they serve.

Major Wolf, who was a major and acting colonel in the U.S. Army Rangers, told me that “colonel and up are political officers—management.”

Soldiers in recent wars have told me how they were not permitted to go after the enemy but instead shuttled women around who worked for government agencies so that they might insult allied patriarch warlords, or guarded opium supplies. A man currently in service has confided in me that in his elite tactical unit he cannot find a single sparring partner for unarmed or knife training, and that close range killer instinct is all but extinct among his fellows, that they are “just distance killers.” That phrase is key to this inquiry.

Distance.

Andy was among a small group of Australians who were “patched-in” to serve with U.S. forces. He told tales of how he and his men were harassed by a rear echelon colonel and tapped for unconventional services by a special forces combat colonel. Many acts that got things done were against the rules. Then, after a year of being in actual combat, he and his mates returned to the stay behind fellows in their naval aviation units. These combat veterans were “shunned,” “spat upon,” told that the experiences they claimed to have had were lies. None of the valuable combat lessons they learned were applied to training. They were drummed out of the service one at a time for being warriors.

This reminded me of the fate of successful Roman generals, who were hated by their masters. It also reminded me of what law officers have told me about the political controls that prevented them from protecting anybody. As well, the combat arts world in which actual fighters, men who have fought, let’s say with a stick, knife, bat, fists, are shunned and excluded by instructors and entire systems of “combat” for the very fact that they are combat experienced.

I had packed these notions of distance from reality being favored by our systems of delusion perpetuation away in the back of this dinged wrong think sink of a brain.

Then, with the perspective of distance, putting on my shaded distance glasses in the Dive Bar, I enjoyed quite a good NFL game, Chargers verses Broncos. An historic event occurred in which an interference with a fair catch of a punt, resulted in the choice of kicking a field goal from that deep distance, a kick that succeeded for the first time since 1976!

The ancient arena was a distraction for the mob, as well as a meditation on death in close combat which was the foundation of Roman social success imposed on some 39 nations.

Likewise Football is a mimic of American industrial might and management. It is not just a distraction for the idiot mob. Football is a genius construct, a veritable Enchidna, a titanic subtextual monster at one with the system. The NFL was supported by military ads when it turned on its rural fans in 2020, 21, 22, losing its base advertising, even serving as poling places for the 2022 vote that focused on urban over rural concerns.

Yes, there is much social conditioning built into the advertising, the rules changes, the carefully scripted off-screen management of commentator dialogue. There are now 8 opinion/editorial talking heads on every NFL telecast, all reading from scripts handed down from management! This is huge, a tripling of same time editorializing of the actions in the past generation. The constant audio management of the viewer is, from a social perspective, HUGE.

The benefits of conditioning Americans to see everything from an “us verses them” my team against their team, taking the focus off of the fan farmers who point the rival herds of animals at each other like politicians, is obvious. Yet, this false duality construct is better than politics, as the controlling hand is more artfully kept from view. The real “us versus them” construct, in the minds of free people, would be fans against team owners. But the team owners increase their troves by farming our herd instincts through the use of avatars. This suppresses our pack instincts, as the pack instincts that made man what he once was, are acted out and satiated on the false field.

After speaking with Andy and reflecting on the Roman Arena, I saw the use of football in a nation whose business is starting wars that it does not wish to be won, in a deeper light.

The obvious fact that NFL quarterbacks are natural captains leaps from every game. These are high functioning American-style captains, men whose actions are directed by audio commands and wrist-mounted doctrine options by genius level managers in the high boxes, who make the actual decisions. A captain acts in crisis according to a code in free situations [frontier/piracy/etc.] and according to his orders, in military and football settings. For every man on the field there are 10 on the sidelines and in the command posts, very much like WWII American warfare. [0] Quarterbacks and defensive and special teams captains are the kind of men that would have been the centurians of Rome, who were once the actual captains of ships that peopled the world, the captains of frontier stations, the men who rose through the ranks in all-in wars that once mattered to become generals that won battles and conquered nations. NFL quarterbacks are all college graduates. They’re specialty is winning in close perilous situations, and of obeying and amplifying their genius masters pulling their mental strings from unseen vantages.

Winning is winning. A brilliant masculine mind, who has been assigned a map of the battle, who is appraised of values of the combatants, and is educated in the rules of the conflict that must not be breached less his master’s goals concerning the post-war peace advantages that are the goal of the contest, is the best man for that task. If, Earth was attacked by aliens, the existing combat officers would best be replaced by NFL quarterbacks, advised by the sergeants. The higher officers, everybody in management up to the Joint Chiefs, would be replaced by coordinators, coaches, scouts, managers, owners taken from the NFL—if, the goal was to win.

If you want to win, you tap winners for the task, not the task specialists, who should assist the winners. America fights its wars, since 1946, in such a way that would be like boxing bouts decided by the cut men battling it out while the prizefighters gambled on the outcome.

But, the goal is not to win.

Winners are instinctively drummed out of every civilized military establishment as soon as the system they serve is no longer subject to a terminal threat. [1]

Since the time Andy Perry flew to the rescue of American warriors in an alien land, over 50 years ago, it paramount that the Seattle Seahawks win their game today, with players valued at the cost of tanks and planes. But USG war fightes have been denied the taste of victory, and the people they supposedly represent care more about what goes down on the human chessboard called a gridiron then in any of the wars fought by “their” nation between 1946 and 2024? [2]

The aliens are here, above us, the enemies of all mankind, who use our very best winners to play games rather than lead an escape from the prison farm where they harvest our bodies and souls for their unsavory feast.

…

Notes

-0. WWII remains in book shelves as 90% of military history in American stores. 6% is civil war, 4% the other 10,000 years. This is evidence of a deep, frozen retardation of current American curiosity and perspective.

-1. Victor Davis Hansen’s Hero Generals is a good study of this, as well as my parallel project The Son of God, posting at:

-2. As football has overtaken baseball in popularity, American public attention to USG wars has declined along an opposite arc. In the age of Baseball, before 1946, Americans cared about the wars its soldiers and sailors fought. There is a corresponding, perhaps corollary reflection of this in the incline of aviation warfare alongside the decline of public attention to war.

Some months ago Ruben and his family were tragically burned out, losing everything, including the death of their pets. There is a link below in case you have the ability to help out. Ruben was texting me while he and his family were sleeping on the ground this winter. They are trying to rebuild.

I'm certain you've had that moment at work when you've said "This is a complete waste of my time." You've said it 10,000 times. I bet you've pondered the 10,000-mile pilgrimage tomatoes make from nursery soils to destination markets. Think of all the fossil gases persons-we-care-about must inhale! Damn you Big Oil!—you say with intended humor. But you're on to something, big.

The inefficiency of every last thing around us utters a simple truth we can all appreciate: that keeping busy is the primary purpose of our toil, not the other stuff. How or where it all went wrong I am not researched enough to answer, but it looks like we got conquered sometime in the past and turned into segregated Worker-Consumers. I formally grant you, wise reader, the right to decorate your cell with as many inspirational posters and wall-doodles as you'd like. Your sentence has begun.

We're farther in the Future than you think.

A horse with a gasmask, first world war, was apocalyptic looking. But a Prius that's been rapid-oxidized and melted into the ground next to an intact tree, that's next level.

Genetic code written on a computer and transcribed by your own mitochondria, that triggers regular creation of a toxic protein in vivo, that's pretty darn novel huh? Or a living virus that does the same?

Rockets landing in reverse? Low-altitude satellite meshwork being put in place above our heads... almost done!

Phones that listen to your ovulation cycle, decipher your words, even by 'accident'—Go away, Siri!

Governments that cycle their predator and prey populations in-and-out with ease and without detection.

Fun Factoid 1: Someone has already sat down and programmed the value of human lives in terms of floating integers, needed for the math done by AI drones in targeting and killing people.

Did You KnOw? Robots will soon metabolize flesh... Tee-hee!

Convinced yet? What do you think comes next? Have our works of art given us any advance preview ...

We are in the future, but it doesn't feel like it. When you open up a window and feel the thousand-year-old air and thousand-year-old sun, it pulls you back to a simpler time. It's an unfortunate trick that lends to the veil.

"History is written by the Victors."

"Everything comes out in the wash."

These two things I was told in Government class. They are incompatible. Catholic school ain't it.

The first statement is true. The second is what slaves say while being tricked into sucking the ass that feeds them.

If you're here, and this mandatory civilian work arrangement persists, then it was probably intended by the most powerful of historical forces, the architects of our archetype, the Victors. This is important. We are here because we are willed to be here, for those with the power and the pen can have it any way they like, and this world is that way.

Doesn't matter the strings of power, not here. We come after the great prophets and their trials of faith, after the dark ages and ensuing rebirths. We come after the great thinkers, who turned the world upside down, and paid with their lives. We come after the rebels, who shouted their shrill cry for freedom, fought hard and fell fast. We come after the great battles, the great ideas, the fantastical show-offs that puttered into obscurity. Truly, hasn't it all been done and written? How many more tragic heroes do you need [to sit down]?

The world we inherited is the one forged after a million reckonings. Whatever it is, whatever its true purpose, its structure has been perfected to stand the test of time, the tests of Men. It survives, and the people it has consumed are forgotten. The drive of their souls become tiring fables. Their purpose washed-out.

We are left with little to do, little to complain about. We are left with things, and work.

I look at my very working-class neighborhood and I see many taking leave of the moral life, patronizing instead the arts of death. I turn on the hypnoscreen and I am told of celebrity sex crimes, suicides, and broken families, where we would never suspect. If both the top and the bottom of the social pyramid are corrupt, then how can we be so sure its middle parts are safe haven?

Can one do a proper accounting of the lethality of our culture en masse? Is there a most-categories death statistic published that lets you risk-assess the tolls of civic participation—stress, toxin, spiritloss? How many people make it comfortably to old age outside captivity? The Amazonian senior in the loin cloth seems rather content, not broken and afraid.

What if everyone's dying? How many of your apparent community would have to pass away before you said "Hey, wait a second. That's a little more than it should be. I need to pay attention to this." How many? Ever thought of the number, or the percent? If 7% of my people disappeared on Year-1, then another 11% on Year-2, then another 12% on Year-3... How long until you can read between the lines? Maybe you'd never notice, especially if endless calamaties cascaded-in during those years, perhaps with overwhelming casualty, perhaps alternated with mind-boggling Newscrap. Or, maybe you never took stock, because it's unusual to do so.

There is an extra-terrestrial element I think, to those that call themselves our masters.

Beyond their endless schemes that ring unearthly, observe firstly the influential imbibing the message to metamorphize their appearances to that of Freakazoid. You say, but Webmaster, this is the stuff of humanity, that in turns that may be measured academically, men and women committ to fighting their nature, markedly after centuries of civic captivity. To that I say, observe secondly, how at the end of Earth's many rainbows there is always a Leprechaun hard at horde, a person you never thought would exist, actually holding down the polar extreme inferred, or if you prefer - a terminus - one the casuals can't stomach and refuse to.

Jeff Epsteen & Friends were doing exactly what you know they were doing on that island. The Inquisition really sat people down on spikes. At the end of Orwell's 1984, (Spoiler Alert!) the main characters are executed. In other strange words: you don't need to just play with the answer like it's a gift of contention, or wait for permission to accept it. Have it. Have the answer like cake. It's yours. It's right in front of you. Say it.

Aliens, nigga.

If you understand how information is handled, you have a really special tool.

Remember the movie Men in Black? Society already hosts countless galactic neighbors right beneath our nose, and the state has been dealing with them ever since at least the ol' discus-crashing days.

Remember the movie Planet of the Apes? Slaved, by a smarter race, ages before now.

How about Contact? That one had Jodie Foster. Earth is beamed blueprints to build a spaceship capable of joining a high-roller time-share presentation but we're a few millions years too late. Damn.

How about that one with Charlie Sheen where martians are greenhousing the Earth hotter while creating clones of dead people? (The Arrival)

Oh yeah, remember Invasion of the Body Snatchers? ...There's a creepy scene where a person is getting jabbed and says 'Why are you doing this to me?'

I could go on and on with great scifi flicks that infer cosmic-grade conspiracy. You can probably name a few. What if all of this is the same narrative, and we convert all perspectives thereof to imitations that invalidate it? Humans constantly project the apparatus they feel strapped upon them, the one covered in slime, oozed by sons of bitches from a fouler planet than mine.

In global faiths is manifested a very old and respected intuition that the social ladder continues up and off this planet and into the Heavens. The Pharaoh was God on Earth, so was Christ, able to enjoy dual-citizenship of the terrestrial and the Extra. Thanks to them we are able to access the Divine, the only sensible place where the social ladder may continue its rungs, bathed in the astronomical powers necessary to facilitate fathers of greater magnitude. It appears to me that only the semantics are fought over here. I suggest that the Earthly majesty of pain and pleasure colors is reflected Above in-scale. Good actors and bad, Drama, leverage of power and exploitation, as an extension of what we experience on soil, natural and logical.

The 'dust-keeping' skills I figure, are at least as brutal as the ones at our scale. I admit I spray indiscriminately at ants with the biggest baddest bottle of bug spray I can find. But ants I'm-a-killin!

Choose your Highers as you will, but no matter where you park your flying car, keep in mind someone made you, someone saved you from the others, and someone gave you a working visa.

     

“My oath to Hypocrates” declared the clinical psychiatrist who had actually worked with Freud, Jung, and Professor Oigon Boiler, the dean of that dubious medical field in the 1920s and 30s, required him to try and convince humanity that it shared a collective subconscious. He, Velikovsky passed on November 17 of 1979 at age 84, this work still unpublished. He had wished dearly to have his work on collective amnesia published in advance of nuclear war. “Mankind in amnesia has not only to do with the past, as in my other books, but with the future.” The Inability of people to consider the overwhelming evidence and catastrophe, he suggests is a defensive mechanism of the mass mind, of “suppressing racial memories.”

Velikovsky discusses dervishes, auto hypnosis, hypnosis, telekinises, remote viewing and even man’s “house he calls soul,” from the perspective of physical sciences. This began when, as a post-doctorate student in Berlin and Zurich in the 1920s and 30s, he posited that such conditions as epilepsy would be found to have physical causes. Velikovsky’s theories on the brain were proved correct when means to measure these things with instruments were developed.

Another foundation of this thinking was a primitive collective mind in man’s primitive stages, similar to the migration of young birds, the collective work of bees and ants and the actions of animals herds and packs, also in “the human herd, the mass.” Velikovsky further discusses shoaling of fish and the stampeding of normally antagonistic species of animals, together from natural events, which was discussed by Hesiod in Works and Days [2], writing at the time of one of the cosmic disasters Velikovsky charts in Worlds in Collision.

V cites his correspondence with Freud and Jung, who both lost their minds in various ways, with Freud seemingly bat-shit crazy from the outset. As in his other latter book, In the Beginning, in which he has letter exchanges with Einstein, who proves himself a fraud in that exchange [indeed the theory of relativity was ripped off of a German scientist of the late 1800s], Velikovsky’s records of discussions with the recognized fathers of 20th Century Science are enlightening. [1]

Freud descended into depraved cave man theories of incest and patricide, and Jung went the Far Eastern cosmic rout, both side-stepping the uncomfortable question of racial memory, Jung orbiting the truth and Freud putting his head in the sewer.

Propaganda: The Public Mind in the Making [0] published in 1928 by Freud’s nephew, which disgusted Freud, was close to Velikovsky’s collective subconscious. Vee would have been better served consulting Spengler in university, [1] but that scholar was passed by the time he was making his ranging inquires.

“If we step through the door of the shadow we discover with terror that we are the objects of unseen factors,” that our powers of reasoning are just tools, often employed to protect us through diverted understanding from a truth we cannot handle. Religious and ideological “dogma is a way of replacing the natural collective unconscious… a protective wall of sacred images.”

A reading of Hesiod has taught me that V’s investigation, which fried the brains of many modern scientists and caused a crusade among frustrated skeptics, was well understood by the ancient poet, who spoke directly of the powers that modern religions and ethos’, to include “science” obscures with and without intent.

V goes on to discuss the fact, that he knew, as demonstrated in the first edition of World’s in Collision, that his charting of the world of cataclysms past would cause an emotional backlash from the scientific establishment, which it did. What surprised V, was that people who had, and had not, read this work, immediately occupied two warring camps: one the modern doctrine of Uniformity, the gradual world evolution, and the other the traditional view of cataclysmic action. He had expected to be called a heretic, knowing what scientists have generally denied, that they were the collective architects of a mechanistic religion, a faith in a Promethean becoming. What surprised him was how believers in his theory, even those who had not read his book, took up his cause with crusading zeal!

This polarity, of action and reaction, is the collective emotional axis along which the making and management of the modern mass mind is based on. It is the logic of movie narratives and of military and law enforcement indoctrination, of good guy vs bad guy, us versus them, and the denial of a gray area between the white and black divide. The American two party system is evolved from this emotive male/female split in the mind which has been nurtured by the psychotic American obsession with spectacting at team sporting events and the splitting of the electorate by sex and race, contrary to the fabric of traditional democratic societies, which evolved as and maintained themselves as ethnically homogeneous bodies of voting men. This collective unconscious, which flinches at the prospect of recalling ancient disasters that nearly wiped out the race, has been harnessed by our masters for our herd management.

The Good Earth

“The dogmatic opposition to the heliocentric view of the earth,” proposed by Aristotle was maintained by the Christen Church for a thousand years. V’s chilling overview of the solar system, and a view of the galaxy, which causes the author to actually consider divine protection for earth, is postulated as too fearful for most of mankind to confront directly.

Aristotle on Poetics, where the architect of the earth centric cosmology, discusses the desirable structure of a tragedy, gives Doctor V a fine point of discussion. Aristotle, who lived only 300 years after meteor storms, fire storms and hurricanes changed the very orbit of the earth and lengthened the year, “the huge earth groaned” sang Hesiod at the time of this disaster. Yet Aristotle on tragedy, suggests that when bad things happen to a protagonist, that the character should not be overly innocent, or overly bad, but normal, not having caused through their actions the terrible happening. This, V points out, seems to have been an emotional shield, an aegis [storm-shield] of play composition.

Fate and Will [1] are not compatible in most individuals and rarely in the mass mind, which is more of the vegan herd mentality, where the Willful action tends to be a more predacious impulse. Hence, mass movements predicated on the triumph of human will, have been doomed from early times.

Once by Water, Twice by Fire, [2] the human world was nearly extinguished, yet the mass mind has developed “delusions” which are varied emotional states of mind, in terms of their character. For instance, modern man suffers from a delusion that rights are real, that rights exist and have power. Hesiod in Works and Days discusses how violent actors are often suffering from delusions, this being the delusion that they have ultimate power, when in fact their petty violations against even weaker persons were merely cloaking their own powerlessness before the powers of heaven and earth.

When the Cyclopeans agree to help Prometheus help Zeus in his battle against the Titans, Prometheus, Forethought, is credited by them with their deliverance from ruin and their reemergence under the sun. We are not Promethean but Epimethean; Afterthinking.

“We were brought up in a deception—in the self assurance that nothing earth-shaking can happen to us.”

Our forgetting it collectively, according to Doctor V, is in part a collective repression of a terrible racial memory.

The Five-Pointed Star worn by the millions of soldiers of the three competing nuclear powers of China, Russia and America, is suggested as a meditation on the nuclear brink, for that five-pointed star was a symbol of power ever since a comet or planet caused great havoc in about 1400 B.C. and again in the time of Homer, Hesiod and Hezekiah and Isiah.

We shy from the numerous accounts of antiquity by reflex, and so are of a nature that begs to be misinformed by the current makers and shakers of our public mind.

Notes

-0. ‘Our Minds Molded’: On Steerage: Impressions of Propaganda by Edward L. Bernays

-1. The Idea of Destiny and the Principle of Causality: The Decline of the West by Oswald Spengler

-2. Hesiod Theogony, Works and Days, the Shield of Herakles

Apparently there has been some confusion on how to best be human. Channeling a highly rare mood to write, I present a streaming takeoff from one of the world's most atomized webmasters, me. I have no goal with this writing, just some content to think on.

“Nothing in life is free.”

“If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.”

“Information is power.”

“Eat or be eaten.”

If these morals are true, it means you're responsible for seeking the truth, concerning each and every last thing, all by yourself, or suffer the consequences. A huge project. To attempt it requires more than a resolve to strive, but a complete willingness to start over with a renewed spirit to be Right. Be prepared to be turned on-end, right up to your last day. Seeking the truth means Preparing to be wrong and having the courage to change as needed, totally. Call it a lifestyle.

But for clarity and specificity: You must be prepared to accept the fact that everything you know is a lie and that you must immediately become a new person with the proper facts, not the wrong ones, as this is the primary imperative for salvaging your freedom and preserving your humanity.

Opt out, and you are participating in a comfortable lie upon yourself, handing over Power over yourself, accepting Sloth and Dependence as your base condition, and keeping lies and gaslight your regular diet forever. It's at this point that the volunteering have accepted a fate they probably weren't aware of - disenfranchising themselves from being any sort of contender in that economy of scale, the one driven by information and by power. Perhaps worse, if invisible forces (or converged interests to the sensitive) are intent to weaponize information or use power against you (gee in what world??), you're really gonna want that power back.

Where do you turn for the truth? What channel on cable TV is it? It's not. Wherever it is, it won't be served on a platter, by people with power or capital. Remembering that it quickly becomes the duty of those who have conserved their wealth/power to defend it, one may trust they will effort to dis-inform, confound, depress. I would. Actually, every entity in modernity does this automatically. "Public relations"... "Politics"... Governments and corporations and churches and unions and all other parties exist to:

1. conserve power

2. get power

3. avoid getting crushed by power

So why in the hell do you think that you ALONE have some implied agency with these other actors? Why would they ever tell you the whole truth? They don't. Power 101. I don't pride in it, it is simply the way of the world; it can be counted upon. Even dumbass criminals maturated by the degenerative culture of today understand the mission:

1. lie

2. lie

3. lie again

It allows the person to diffuse obscurely into the myriad non-truths enveloping the body like rushing storm-water currents.

You instead will have to be:

1. your own source of strength

2. trusting of yourself, in fact, a peddler of trust

3. your own judge of information, referencing all sources possible—no one else

3. defensive

4. offensive

You will have to be quite different than your peers; to them you will appear excited, driven, mad. Most others will stay inside the House of Cards as it provides just enough sunshine to cultivate the pansy or the lotus. Your way will break hearts and disturb the inner peace of atomized lives.

Mericans, particuarly boomers, got sold really hard on the idea that your TIME is YOURS, and if you really want to take possession of it, you need to keep a strong disposition against working [outside of employ], as that takes TIME - which you need to conserve in order to be free. Life economics 101. If the boss has to rent your work, then you need to be sellin' and not givin' it away (to NO ONE goddamnit, I'm in control!). Does this couple well with the human need to sit or lie down? Or bend over? You tell me.

This is not to say Mericans, particulary boomers, don't work. They certainly do, measurably more than most of the Western world in fact, and probably more than their remotest cousin. And that's where the grifty exchange ends dammit; the game just came on and it's Miller™ time.

Back from the game. We lost. Oh well.

Most of my countrymen get the message loud and clear: work, and when not working, do nothing that looks like work (reading, exercise, spirituality, independent life). To do otherwise sets you against the Grain. What do they have to prove? The rest of us normies ought keep our distance, as these types must be lazy or have poor intentions. Everyone knows if you're wealthy you're winning. If you're poor, you're a loser.

Get a job loser.

There is an observable awareness amongst these proles that their careers and civic lives are a waste of collective fruit, flavored into cliches and addages we've all heard and are self-oriented to keep alive the un-purposed spirit.

“They got you comin and goin”

“Everybody's working for the weekend”

“It's all about money”

There is an awareness, but it is fashioned into a governing force that imprisons the person by maintaining the ego in limbo. Isn't that wild? ... the Inability to take basic and aged observations, catalyze them with Logic and Initiative, to alter one's behavior, to fix your predicament. They've provisioned just enough chalance to work and consume with distinction.

The failure is simple: you can't tell you're not free, because you're spending all your mustered faculty on material success and survival, and ignoring your soul, that stupid thing shooting anxiety laser beams into your conscience whenever your life story, designed for obsolescence, shatters along with your ego. (see 'Midlife Crisis')

We're not talking about leaps and bounds in physical toil to acquire spiritual release, I'm saying remember when every last Native American culture got turned out? Remember the big wars and the Great Depression? Remember when gods chosen were foresaken and exchanged for real estate? Remember Omaha beach? Remember the twin towers? Remember covid? Well, don't believe so hard. This generation or the next, your bloodline's gonna get rescheduled homie.

Evolving out of being a powerless neoslave with all sights downward will have to be the work of some real John Connor types (see the movie The Terminator) as it seems nearly everyone warms up to the prosperity gospel in time, or the secular wheel of fortune, complete with wonderful items unfathomable. Let's not forget, the Afterlife has been foregone for Superbowl Sunday.

Your time is yours, all the time, dummy. You could spend time on developing yourself and truthseeking (same thing), but if you're not careful (sarcasm) that might quickly reveal your current arrangement is a scam and you're Stockholming yourself, using the very language your de-landed ancestors used to enter the city and receive their promised rewards of convenience, leisure, health, and wealth (sarcasm again).

You can build a career, but can you build yourself? You're a teamplayer, but is it your team? Not speaking in terms of where you work or what you own, Who are You?

I've started to nickname my dog Doppelzahn (doppel-tsan) as it means DoubleTooth in German. He's a mini-schnauzer (which I believe means he originates where half of my ancestors are from, until some know-it-all asshole informs me the breed was concocted in the eastern regions of France or 1920s America). He's a good shit. It's a small gesture to the college-dropout inside that nonfluency doesn't have to be mean irrelevancy. His real dog-name is Loki hehe, and he has some double-teeth, something dogs acquire more often than humans. I'm thinking about taking him to the vet for a look, and possibly a procedure if need be.

Loki has no fucking idea what's goin on. I exist in the shadows all the time, but he only sees me when he wants to see me, or more specifically, when I want to be seen. When I feed him, engage his playfulness, and pickup his defecations I am there in full glory. But the rest of the time he's in his own world, taking possession of his schnauzerbody as he should, his off-species papa a distant unknown.

If I please, I will have him anaesthetized, his dentistry modified, and when he wakes up he'll have no idea it even happened. Perhaps while he's under, I'll have his testicles removed. Smart money. 2 birds 1 stone. Gotta prepare for my future, that of my family. Not his, his is whatever I say it is. Then again maybe I won't have him surgered. Maybe it's not worth the money. Decisions, decisions.

We're DoubleTooth Loki. We are leashed, managed, fed, reproduced, and put down at will. But not our will. Someone else's. If we look back at the rather simple and rudimentary social pyramid created by the willing and the unwilling, as constructed by the economics mentioned in the paragraphs above, it is a owner-slave arrangement clear as day. We humans gradually lost our autonomy, to be handled as the wolf was husbanded to Man so many epochs ago. We were set to work, like cattle to the plow. Worker beattitudes were propagated and disseminated. The goals of breeding were applied to accomplish: industriousness, passiveness, apathy, violence—whatever ya need we got it. Inclinations to resist have been, apparently, converted to vibrant acceptance and pride over sparse millenia.

Sometimes you need a Schnauzer.

Sometimes you need a German.

The right tool for the job, ya know.

When I slip the high-quality blue harness over Loki's head, he beats me to the chase, inserting his furry head like an eager projectile. Not just acceptance, but exuberance. He's going outside to be free, he's full of love and is loved. I like to think he becomes an entirely new character, König Doppelzahn des Schnauzers, sniffer of dirty creeks, committed questioner of bus transfers, sworn enemy of short-hairs.

His entire reality is a farce.

We're more than tools, and we don't have to die according to script.

September

-1. 1243, visit sister and niece,

-2. 1617,

-3. 1437, schedule weekdays out to New Year's Eve, Pittsburgh to Lancaster by car, Mister Grey to Erique

-4. Lancaster to Baltimore by car, Erique to Brickmouse, square away quarters, set up writing stations, refresh and back up two local computers, answer 118 emails, dinner with friends

-5. convert book files for publishing, meet with webmaster, schedule training,

-6. 1658, to Harford County by bus and car, dinner with son, cards with brother,

-7. 6 emails, paypall, edited and posted Nat Star #2, training and visiting with James Anderson and Incognegro,

-8. 1154, arrange publishing agreement with Casting Darts Publishing, 1285,

-9. 1177, post 3 periscope articles, 1026, 1670, finished off emails box,

-10. to Baltimore County by car, to Baltimore City by bus, weed back yard, back up files, proof NS #3, eye blew, 1054,

-11. 1301, yard work, resset patio blocks

-12. 1177, yard work, weeding, yard tennis with the Brickmouse, 1495, train operator, arrange fight brain meet

-13. 552, 1197, to Megan’s on the east side,

-14. 1 hour badmitton, read 175 pages in The Babylonian Woe, seizure lost a day, slept 14 hours

-15. brain fog, outlined 5 thru 14 of Conspiracy Against Mankind, relax

-16. 857, 781, 1359, weed Georgia’s yard, editorial call, 597

-17. 1620, scheduled posts, back to Brickmouse House, yard work, meet Big Ron

-18. 1317, worked on publishing with Jeth, visited with webmaster, lost in dominoes to Guila Girl

-19. weeded, 1800, watch fights,1787

-20. wash clothes, 1185, back up files, pack, To East Side, 1224, insane nightmares busting road blocks with Mesc Frank, knife fighting in Pittsburgh against skin heads.

-21. 1434, 1111, Meet Damien,

-22. To Harford County, visited grandchildren, who agreed to publish outstanding history proofs,

-23. 1348, clean ground floor, 1097

-24. bad brain fog, spent 2 hours writing 1 brief email

-25. proofed last item, 498, frame 3 nonfiction articles, dinner with The Operator, listen to Arrian,

-26. 1316, clean kitchen, 1536, met with head coach at Towson Karate,

-27. bad back spasm, cant stand or walk, working on floor exercises, 1226, pack and go to Lancaster, PA with Mister Grey, kitchen stag discussion over beer with Nero the Pict

-28. 891, cleaned apartment, to Erique’s, entertained Princess Ruby, pushed Ruby in the swing for 90 minute, which helped my back, weeded around the gazebo, who painted my nails and skull,

-29. shopped with Ruby and Erique, tore vines off of two trees, sank 12 small trees and found a coal bed, probably the remnants of an old coal shed, back to Mister Grey’s, made corned beef chili

-30. 1471, record 5 videos

Articles/Chapters = 34,

Books = 0

October

-1. 1471, cleaned, cooked, sparred, 5 videos, to Eriques

-2. to Baltimore, 1244, emails,

-3. emails, coached from 5 to 11 pm

-4. 1453, visit by bus Cousin Michael, walk to meet Charles, begin John Harrower’s diary

-5. publishing emails, comments, 1795, cut grass weed 4 hours, 1269,

-6. 1818, 1008, spar with Charles, to Megan’s on East Side, 1032, shopping for groceries with Megan, 1374, can now haul weight

-7. 2008, 1554, 2745, 2569, editorial call, 2443, legs and abs, walk to store, tight back, nerves in legs flaming cut squats short

-8. woke with locked up back, 90 minutes mobility exercise, wrote too much yesterday, 1816, 2467, vacuumed house, 2684, completed annotating Diary of John Harrower, must return to fiction tomorrow.

-9. could not walk, barely made home form Megan's, listened to Arrian, 2 emails, sick, stretched 6 times for 7 hours therapy, weird baccanal at Esoteric Cafe,

-10. tight, steep temp drop on old bag of bones, 11 emails, 454, 743, coached from 5 to midnight

-11. very tight, extreme eye seizure, nausea, listen to Arrian’s Alexander Book 1 23rd time, expand The Son of God Alexander project, chapter 1 to be 12 sections, to Harford County clean Mom’s windows,

-12. bad eye and locked up back, 1277, clean windows, train with Incognegro, cards and rum

-13. wake up drunk, clean shed, patio, clean rest of windows, to Lancaster with Nero the Pict, work on yard, train with Erique

-14. fast day, weed, move rose bushes, plant arbor vidas, to Denver, PA with Mister Grey, record videos, beer, 1 shot rum, make chili

-15. chili and coffee for breakfast, 1666, make videos, train, to Erique’s

-16. to Baltimore with Erique, lunch with Man in the Hat, dinner with Doc Dread and Brickmouse, got incredible drunk on Taquila and blacked out, need to get a handle on this lest I erase a book in my head before its written

-17. begin Babylonian Woe notes, 1435, star concluding Banjo Timejack, rake yard, spar with Charles, coach boxing, dinner with The Operator

-18. begin I Miss Them So, 1290 Son Of God,1330, to eastside,

-19. badmitton 100 minutes continuous, 1708, finished reading Pill City,

-20. 1528, shopped at markets, 1343

-21. visit Doc, interview Michael, 1621, 1095, 1,072, repaired porch lattice, stored tools and parts from plumbing job, dinner with three happy hens, crab soup, eggplant, shrimp, meatballs

-22. 902, 1948, shop for Megan, 1537,

-23. 449, 1662, entomb rats under porch with beer bottles and bleach/ammonia gas, 1169, dinner with Charles, to Brickmouse House

-24. 16 emails, 4 emails, 1347, skyped with Jeth Randolph, rake lawn

-25. 1376, was clothes, 1488, rake, begin level spring house bed, patch up eroded side slope, proof morning writing, cut grass shower, to karate school with gear, meet Sean and crew

-26. trained from 11 to 4:30, concussion, black eye, 9 bruises, 1 cut after 1 hour boxing, two hours stick, 1 hour blade, 2 over 1 against James Anderson in LPR machete duel, 0 and 5 against James with bastard sword wasters, dinner with the crew at Raven Inn, to PA with Erique, bad headache, eye seizing bad, legs held up, hips did give when I got rocked

-27. feel like I was hit by a car, cleaned house, closed down pool, water transplanted shrubs, news that Kelly passed, to Mescaline Franklin’s, 2 video beer reviews

-28. 1189,

-29. comments, emails, to Erique’s, yard work

-30. to Baltimore, 7 emails, 227, wash clothes, to pharmacy, 449, meet Big Ron, try to learn majon

-31. 1634, 1274, pharmacy, boxing, knife training

Articles/Chapters = 44

2nd month in a row with no book completions. Unacceptable

November

-1. to cousin Mike’s by bus, 1495, to Harford County by car, clean house, 1163,

-2. clean kitchen, set up for party, play cards for lunch, 1444, serve the eaters,

-3. birthday for relative

-4. back to Baltimore, not feeling well, video and text archives with Guillo Girl, 1238, 932,

-5. 894, walk to pharmacy was closed, hit snake, 1545, 947, dinner with operator, drinks until 2:30 on election night

-6. read Eye of the Chickenhawk, 1023, dinner with Chuck, 1582,

-7. 1447, posted February nonfiction, pharmacy, coach boxing 55 minute sparring round with Leo, dinner at the esoteric cafe,

-8. 1169, pharmacy, to east side,

-9. 1161, bull roast

-10. 1188, over to the Brickmouse House for a Myth 20 podcast,

-11. 1367, 1164, wash clothes, to east side,

-12. 1261, read Works and Days, 1588, back to Brickmouse House, 1779, meet Big Ron and Charles at bar,

-13. 1278, 490, arranged text and completed Banjo: Timejack 28,800 words, emails, update site essentials, rake lawn, 1614, 2264, arrange Nat Star text

-14. arrange Moses Roper text, read Nat Star, 1181, Skype Jeth Randolph, work out plot and roster for Vunak of Antares coach boxing, train The Operator until midnight,

-15. 1246, back up files, check site, meet Mister Grey and to PA, three videos

-16. edit yesterday’s chapter, emails, to Erique’s plantation, framed Vunak of Antares, cleaned house, baby sat, yard work, movie

-17. 1671, removed 4 stump with Erique, sparred, dinner with Erique and Yakubiton, 1608, 1597, 3,376, finished annotating Moses Roper, videos with Mister Grey, drank until 3:30 am

-18. exercises, read Theogony, emails

-19. 1355, 31 flights of stairs, fast, to Erique’s,

-20. to Baltimore, breakfast with Ezz, 904, lunch with Mom, dinner with Doc

-21. 1160, Miss Ezz brought dinner, 1035, Jeth skype, last boxing session with Towson Karate, coffee and whiskey with Jason, all canceled for illness

-22. snow and rain, feel 80 years old, proof an ode, mail to Jeth, 1646, to Eastside

-23. 1545, strength exercises, format 10 part review of Bernays for Conspiracy against Mankind, 699, read Book of Job

-24. 1449, 1178, completed Nat Star: Timejacker! At 20,237 words, 1036, Wake Christopher in print

-25. to Rosedale to interview Mike, Harford County, train Operator in Baltimore county

-26. up at 6:55 AM disoriented, brain fog, emails, website updates, finish packing, lunch with Man in the Hat, train with Brett bruised sternum, drinks with Big Ron, Charles, Brickmouse, Jason, in bed by 6:00 AM

-27. up at 8:30, bad hangover, eesh!, exercise, physical therapy final check by Brickmouse, post office, deliver present to little Emma, to Harford County, played cards

-28. up at 5:50 AM, clean house, sort gear for short stay, set up desk, proton emails, Thanksgiving with family in Harford County, conversed with X wife until 5:00 AM over Barbados rum

-29. skyped with Jeth Randolph over Vunak of Antares

-30. 1387, surprise dinner with Nero the Pict and Cutie Homesteader, 434

Articles/Chapters = 41

Books = 2

Novels = 2

December

-1. 1777, emails, updated site, visit with family, to Lancaster with Uber Joe, visited with the princess and the queen and watched a movie with Erique

-2. 1332 VU #1, to Pittsburgh by train,

-3. breakfast with reader, edit VU#1, strength training, record videos

-4. record videos

-5. 1414 VU #2, skype with Jeth, to Chicago by train

-6. #3 train to LA, read Hesiod’s Theogony, Stan is my seat mate, crossed the Miss at Port Madison, Iowa, sleep, fast

-7. woke in Dodge City at 5 AM, edited VU#2, 1283 VU#3.1, outline VU#3.2, typing difficult on rails, read Hesiod,

-8. wake in LA, switch trains, nodding on the train, in San Jose coaching Eddy,

-9. listened to Hesiod, 459 of amplification to VU#3.1, 1576 VU#3.2, listened to Hesiod

-10. woke with bad eye, VU#3.3 1600, explore San Jose on foot, VU#5 1067, used book store, read North American Indians by George Gatlin, listened to Hesiod thrice, read Hesiod,

-11. bad eye attack, 895, listened to Mankind in Amnesia

-12. listen to Hesiod, edited yesterday’s article, 1150, 1435, outline Pale Riders, listen to Spengler, Hesiod, 1151, 1275, listen to Gibbon

-13. listen to Gibbon, 28, 29, 30, 1743, listen to Hesiod, 1083, buy Greek Lyrics by Latimore and The Fall of Troy by Quintus Smyneus, 1052, listened to Gibbon 31and 32

-14. Listen to The Shield of Herakles, 1962, Listen to Mankind in Amnesia, Listen to In the Beginning, 1389, two tall beers and to bed

-15. listned to Gibbon, 2240,

Winter begins for the Crackpot, 12 books in 12 months is enough.

Articles/ Chapter = 21

Books: 0

Expenses

Train: 75, to Pittsburgh,

Bus: 4, 4, 5, 5, 4, 5, 5, 2, 5, 2, 2, 4

Hotel: 200, 200, 200, 700

Food: 57, 20, 14, 16, 38, 18, 10, 20, 20, 50, 24, 10, 30, 50, 20, 29, 20, 40, 12, 23, 5, 10, [December food and drink taken care of by Mister Gray, Rick and the Operator]

Medical: 32,

“The false has no limits.”

-Seneca, On Philosophy The Guide to Life

…

“You are the man, and I must say pretty tech savvy, better than my parents and my wife. You got cash app, venmo or anything like that? Or is there a place to straight donate on your website? I hate to say it but I've only been a reader in prison. When I'm not in I can't even finish a magazine.

“Either way, since getting out life has been great. Spending lots of money trying to get pregnant again, but life is good. Always look forward to your perspective. I feel like when your on a podcast people start to "step up" a bit. Kinda like a new shot caller entered the prison yard. Even though it's done online over a podcast you can hear something inaudible in the other hosts perk up a bit when they are on with you.

“I always love stealing historical anecdotes at parties. Talking about white slaves, dropping some of your book titles like I read them. I love being white and being proud. Not in an annoying way, but in a reasonable manner. History is so much more interesting when you talk about it. So much more intrigue when it isn't retold like a marvel movie with a definite good and bad guy.

I think I'm also contrarian, memorized just enough historical facts to bring up some interesting facts.

-Myth of the 20th Century Listener Email, 11/18/24

…

“In my view philosophy is the least gay type of writing. It is the study of the human will.”

-Nick Mason from an 11/8/24 unrecorded skype conversation, in response to this old crumb’s admission that I avoided reading modern philosophy because I thought it was gay.

…

I sit here and write while enfeebled by a beautiful thing, the first November snowfall in Baltimore City I have seen. It is coming from the west, the interior, from the quarter which I am soon bound by train. I tempted and then resist the modern view that that which harms is ugly and try and remind the muddy mind to embrace the ancient way.

The eye, the back, the hip, the leg, the many overuse injuries are lighting up the old crumb and challenging my presentation of the “Theban Debacle.” The 335 B.C. kindred genocide of a people, was like a Canadian warlord took Chicago then let his allies from Detroit, Millwaukie, Joliet, Gary and Indianapolis decide what to do with that great and arrogant city.

I recall, the left wing podcasters and conservative historian Victor Davis Hansen have spent much effort in 2024 writing and speaking upon ancient genocides, putting their own spin on the ancient crime. For instance, the homosexual podcasters declared that Roman lack of female political authority was a crime only barely exceeded by the extermination of the city of Carthage. Right and left is in agreement that any ancient conqueror who permits a city to be wiped out has committed an unforgivable and even irrational act. Yet modern America has turned a hundred cities to rubble, even melted a few, and is always “the good guy.”

My primary ancient source on the Theban Debacle, which was an obvious externally induced form of social suicide, Arrian [who all of these modern sources distrust for his admiration of Alexander] did write that even in the case of a people such as the Thebans, who had a 200 year long record of such war crimes, and might have been said to have been punished according to “the Wrath of God,” that the human actors getting their hands dirty in such business are still guilty of a shameful and disgraceful act against their “kindred blood.”

Modern minds shun the idea of bloodlines which were central to the ancient experience and is the subject of The Son of God, my book on Arrian’s view of Alexander. Therefore, the modern mind has been deconstructed to misunderstand every past act. The cabal that engineered this were genius actors of diabolic insight, which I posit acted over multiple generations, even centuries, and probably across ages.

Alexander and his slain father before him were in a battle to the death over the autonomy of their people and the preservation of their bloodline. At the time that Alexander permitted his allies to pass terminal sentence on the Thebans, a dozen vassals and allies of his father had risen in revolt after his father was murdered. Alexander and his entire family would die in this two decade long war, his line extinguished, their loyalists murdered. Alexander explicitly wanted Thebes as an ally to contribute an excellent battalion of soldiers to the small army he was to lead against the vast Persian Empire.

The Persians knew that a united Greece would spell their utter doom—and it did, even a barely united Greece, with the Spartans and Thebans siding with Persia against their own cousins.

It is obvious to any rational observer, that Persia must bribe Greek states to rise against their national Hegemon. A careful look at the simultaneous rising of so many hopelessly over-matched powers lead by exiles returned from Persian courts, BEFORE their oppressor left, shows a practical hand. The Persians funded the suicides of various folk, most tragically the Thebans, in the hopes that Alexander would be slain—for as a hero king he led from the front—but more likely, that he would be delayed, which he was. At Thebes, the military math tells us that an entire nation died, so that the governors of Greek Persia might have another week to assemble their army to oppose the young Hero King.

To the modern historian, there can only be the judgment that Alexander was the “bad guy” and the Thebans [whose shadowy leaders evaporate from the stage as soon as the walls of the city they coaxed into revolt are breached] are the “good guys,” fools perhaps, patriots maybe, but good guys.

Today many people believe that members of other races hate them and wish to wipe them out because those others are “bad.” This reminds me of the Theban response to the news that Alexander was at “the gates” to their homeland, a man so endowed with excellence in leadership that he was regarded, even at age 18, as unbeatable. This is not something we can believe today, as one man may not lead. Yet the career of Alexander bears out that he was special, that he took nothing, gave away everything, restored local government, as well as restoring the looted tombs and temples, and was ALWAYS lenient to a foe who agreed to be friends and kept their word.

When he was poised to come against Thebes, the Thebans who wished to make peace with him were reviled by their fellows and shunned or attacked for not believing the media reports [yes, they had media] that Alexander had been slain. The hysterical belief was that Alexander had been slain by one of the many plots hatched against him.

When finally, he came before Thebes and offered peace, the same hysteria mongers convinced most Thebans that Alexander was a liar and would slay them all, so that they might as well die in the cause of liberty. Thebes attacked, as Alexander offered peace. He then won easily and handed the fate of Thebes to the numerous small towns they had oppressed. These towns did not just decide to sell the Thebans into slavery, but to restore two towns that Thebes had wiped out. Alexander then offered peace to the many other cities that had revolted at the same time and was as good as his word. He insisted of Athens only that they exile a single man—who went back to his Persian paymaster.

This is the same man who protected the wives and children of his conquered enemy Darius, and punished the traitor to Darius who killed that king. That well read historians must play good guy bad guy to cue our perennial hysteria, even when evidence shows that both Alexander and the Thebans, cast as “bad guy” and “good guys” were both struggling pieces in a terrible chess game they would both fail to survive: the taken pawn and the checked king. We, in this world beyond the pale of conspiracy, are not permitted to see the hand of the explicit enemy [Persia] let alone the machinations of the masterful and unnamed player for which kings and pawns are the most vulnerable playing piece and real power is wielded by the queen [palace staff], rook [fortress commanders], knights [army commanders] and bishops [conspirators].

The game of chess is reduced to mere math, its lesson about rule from the shadows and the impotency of kings caught in the web of conspiracy, lost under the black hat/white hat narrative imposed on us from birth. The key to playing the game of Satanic Earth, [1] for whoever the unnamed players who have ruled us from the shadows for ages are, is the establishment of their puppets in the popular mind, as either good or bad, with that vast gray reality spanning the world between those two fantastic towers of ivory and opal, rendered invisible to the mass mind. It might be useful to refer to the Public Mind as a creature that sees only black, white and shades of red, with other colors as well as gray invisible to the emotional iris implanted in that forever infant consciousness.

…

-1. I agree with the author of The Book of Job and the Gospels of Mathew and Luke, as well as the venerable Increase Mather, that Satan rules on earth as God rules in heaven, and that Milton and Dante painted portraits of earth set in pagan myth to evade censure by our terrible underlords.

A Blue Print for Inducing Pattern Recognition Deficiency

A Symbolic Study of the Martino Fine Books, 2024

Edition

This cover, is, in my estimation, a genius work of symboloy. The edition is very high quality, with the only typos involving transpositions of “of” and “or” in three places.

Propaganda is lettered at the top in heavy block letters:

PRO letters are rising from left to right,

PAG then sing and rise, with the P as low as in the first syllable and the risen G bisected by a crimson cord being held by a fist above

ANDA is then leveled.

The lettering presented in this way suggests a rising awareness, then a fallen awareness, rising to a new consciousness bisected by an element of control, with the final four letters level indicating that the feeding of information resulted in the consumption of alternative information according to an obscure guideline, resulting in a controlled consciousness.

Below this powerful, and symbolically heavenly, lettering, is the subtitle, in lighter, level lettering:

The Public Mind

In The Making

The underlining of the artwork is accomplished with the moderately block-like author’s name, with the letters set in a beta wave, E high, D low, W high, A low, etc.

The centerpiece, framed ominously to the left, is a small crimson man, with no distinct face, in a crimson suit, hands in pockets. The figure wears a white shirt underneath, representing the remaining uncontrolled aspects of his mind, his right shirt sleeve slightly exposed above his pocketed hand and his white shirt collar visible between the V lapels of his suit jacket.

Ominously, the white shirt collar is bound with a tight black tie, representing what it is, the throttle hold that material economics hold upon this modern man.

The man faces over his crimson left shoulder to the right of the field.

Unseen, at his feet is a crimson cord descending below the field.

His view is held by the precise crimson hand which has its three lesser fingers raised to him, and its thumb and index finger carefully controlling a crimson cord attaching to his knee.

Above this visible hand is an obscure crimson hand which is holding the cord attached to the subjects lower back tightly, in a fist, of which only the thumb and forefinger are visible.

At the top of the field, holding the chord that bisects the G is a godlike hand clenched in a powerful fist grasping the crimson cord that attaches to the subject’s back.

More ominous, although the subject is able to see a kindly precision hand, and glance up to two more bully fists, and even look down to see a crimson cord whose holder is not visible in his field, are three cords behind him: one attached to his right shoulder, one to his right hip, and one to his right ankle.

Altogether there are 7 crimson cords of control, colored the same as his civic uniform. These equal the seven faces of the hero from antiquity [1] and are present in the Statue of Liberty, which is a male priest of Apollo wearing a crown of 7 rays of enlightenment. Those who wield these seven influence upon him, are mostly unknowable.

Most ominously at all is that the cords and the controlling hands lead away out of view into into a black cover back, with no dust cover, no information.

The overall impression of this cover art and lettering is that the cords disappearing off field behind the subject, that is the idealized Public Man, represent aspects of social branding, induction, abduction, conduction leading to pure creation of artificial perception, so as the public man, to the extent that he can see and think, is able only to be mislead by his anonymous shepherd.

Cover designer Tiziana Matarazzo has depicted Bernay’s vapid yet sinister study and promotion of mass mind manipulation in a concise and stark field of control depicting a man as a puppet on a lonely stage controlled by the actions of numerous forces, seen and unseen.

…

Notes

-1. Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell

I have an eye strain problem, and the Brickmouse has a hard time reading silently. The young man does a nice job reading out loud and enjoys unwinding with a book after a hard days work, usually a short story by Thomas Ligoti or Chuck Palunuck. This old reader is using up his eye time on studying ancient texts with a focus on a conspiracy against humanity. Seeing Eye of the Chickenhawk on the counter and sampling a page, in which foot notes detail that organized criminal activity reported upon by two Washington Post reporters, were declared by the FBI to be nothing and that the paper of record then went about debunking its own people, sold me.

Conspiracy has been with us since at least as long as we have been hunters. Conspiring, is cooperating. Cooperation is the corner stone of hunting, of farming, or building, and most of all of war. So why is conspiracy taboo, something that we must all believe no humans do?

The short answer is that this puts the notion of the good shepherd at stake.

The long, tormented answer, is, I suspect, hidden somewhere behind the veil that is pulled aside in a few spots to reveal the EVIL that hunts us.

Dovey begins by declaring that he is no academic and therefore has no credibility, that this burden of proof based on his lack of priesthood sanction is an advantage in investigative reporting. This investigation is hampered by fact checking, debunking and skeptic organizations employed to lie about revealed facts by denial combined with attacking the character of the reporter. The internet link codes are provided with the caveat that they will be dead by the time the reader searches them, as happened with most of my internet sourcing years ago.

The Brickmouse confides:

“James, beginning in 2016, a massive purge of internet sources was begun. In 2020, another sweep of factual sources in favor of system narrative was conducted. Recently, the most reliable internet archive was taken down.”

The clouds are gathering to obscure the god’s hunt.

I will only write here, of the first few chapters of this book, in support of my long-held observation that so called “serial killers” are:

-The most popular media fetish for 30 years.

-Believed to be lone wolf killers, rarely acting with accomplices, and if so as Dracula lording it over a Renfeld.

-And are, in fact, simply the undertakers and scapegoats for an ages old fraternity of social vampires, who abduct, rape, sacrifice and dispose of our youths. I suspect this is reflected in the Legend of the Minotaur and is as old as civilization.

The facts of the initial investigation have been easily gleaned as I take notes, make predictions, and the Brickmouse looks at me over the book with his nearly angelic face, and notes that I have seemingly read ahead. Rather, I have read behind, from books written ages ago.

From 1972 thru 1978 two thuggish middle aged men, who seemed, by their actions, to be quite stupid, manage to abduct and murder at least 60 youths and young men. This occurs in Houston Texas and in and adjacent to Chicago. The search for more of the missing 44 Houston boys and men stopped at 28, as soon as a killer was found.

Dean Corlls in Houston and John Wayne Gacy in Chicago each have dozens of bodies found buried under their property, a boat shed and a house. Corlls is killed by an accomplice, who confesses, and Gacy is jailed and executed based on accomplice testimony. Both men were involved in abducting boys, raping and murdering them, filming and photographing the activity in Snuff Films, and were declared by all authorities to be working alone, other then with the help provided by some youthful accomplices who confessed.

Both men, were in fact, connected to politicians, mobsters, art galleries, music product companies, judges, wardens, the FBI, the State Department and the scions of Old Money, the son of a Texas oil tycoon and Chicago Area Royalty. The common link was one John Norman, who Ironically shares his name with the pen name of a bondage fetish novelist, author of the Gor series, written from the 1960s through the 1980s.

John Norman ran numerous news letters matching up wealthy men with wayward boys. He worked closely with a vicious knife-using tranny, pimp named Paski, and such upstanding characters as Guy Straight, a homosexual porn actor, as well as with various photographers, teenage felons, and mysterious anonymous figures from California, who posted $35k and $36k bail for him. Norman was arrested twice on complaints of sexual assault and found to be holding “client lists.” These lists were never entered into evidence, by any of the three police departments involved. Norman was once arrested with over 30,000 index cards of clients, including federal officials. These were not entered into evidence and were sent via the FBI, from Dallas, to the State Department, who declared officially that they had all been destroyed, as no evidence of passport violations were found! Another batch of 50,000 applicants for client status to shag boys was not entered into evidence and no longer exists. It gets better:

20 minutes from Gacy, Norman was arrested, keeping company with some of Gacy’s accomplices, was found to have thousands of index cards of clients for the boys he was abducting and pimping, and these too disappear. The best part, while Norman was in prison two years, with obvious, uncharged mass knife murderer Paski, a boy pimp, he was permitted to print, YES PRINT, and mail out from the prison mail room tens of thousands of child porn newsletters! A judge would release him with no explanation. Norman would remain at large for decades…

Police in Houston, Dallas, Homewood, Chicago and LA consistently hand off boxes of vanishing evidence to Feds, decline to investigate murders by people associated with their two suspects, the dead Corlls and the jailed Gacy, both of whom described themselves to associates and authorities as members of a far ranging organization. Book deals for cops and lawyers are granted to sensationalize the crimes of Gacy as a lone wolf predator. Gacy was associated with people who worked as a female abduction and murder ring in Chicago named The Ripper Crew. His associates described Gacy as in the business of “setting people up.”

While reviewing the notes I picked out a few things:

-The Hermes newsletter for acquiring boys is sinister in that Hermes was the pagan “conductor of souls” the one who took you beyond life.

-The Delta Project sounds transparently like a USG op.

-The Odyssey Foundation for boy trafficking, I suspect relates to the various passages about “bundling off” boys to distant kings to be eaten, to include the loyal swineherd who as a boy had been saved from such a fate by the father of Odysseus, after being abducted by Middle Eastern merchants from an Italian island.

There is an obvious structure for supplying sacrificial victims for the fiends who rule us, which emerges:

-0. Police, permitted only to focus on the Undertaker

-1. Undertaker “the serial killer” acting as a network front man in cooperation with grave diggers who will finger him as the mastermind and killer. This man must store bodies under his property to insure loyalty to the network. This man is a passionate death sex addict who will capture and produce what the clients of the network crave, men with tastes like him, but not with his gift for violence.

-2. The Grave Diggers, even lower functioning than the Undertaker, 2 in number, will suffer some minor legal penalty in return for not handing over any party but the Undertaker.

-3. Killer, this man runs the grave diggers, kills informers and victims likely to talk, and works in close association with the Indexer.

-4. The Indexer works in association with the killer and photographer, producing promotional material and fetish artifacts. He will be surrounded by non violent victims mixed with violent actors and actual talent. His greatest crime to police will be sexual.

-5. The Patron is an anonymous money man who is either a USG actor, or more likely a contractor or fixer.

-6. USG Agencies and Departments bracket the network on both ends, maintaining limits on police work and public awareness of the network.

-7. No Master, no directing intelligence, is visible.

-8. The Key to the maintenance of the Vampire Network, in the face of mass media, has and will continue to be the belief that government and police are a tool for good, not evil.

"Why just read old stuff? People have learned so much more since then.

…

"You really think that people are less honest now than in the past? Do you really think people have changed that much?

-Deale, Towson, MD, by night

…

I do not think people have changed at all. Rather, our living conditions have altered significantly. This is more pronounced with the written word. The Word, particularly when written, when carved, chiseled, baked in clay, applied to sheep skin or marsh fiber with an inked goose quill was for all of the past ages sacred. Things were rarely written down anywhere. When they were written, it was with authority [religion], with agreement [treaty], after generations of recitation [poetry], under witness and judgement, with judges at Elis overseeing and validating the dictating of a victor’s deeds and particulars to the slave of the sculpture charged with creating the likeness of the athlete in wood or stone.

Modern and now postmodern people, even those who are illiterate—indeed, in my experience, more so when a person cannot read—have continued through my life, to regard the written word with expectation of import, even dread. This sense, in an age when most do not read the ancient texts, is increasingly imbued with emotion. Perhaps this is because of the legalistic nature of our society. This continues to intensify, in a way to return to an old reverence, a fear.

This reverence is continued with TV news and social media, as readers and listeners seek authoritative voices from their own HATE stream, those reactive leaders of their own fear team. Just as the ancients had seers and oracles who spoke in their language, oracles who sat on the podium long revered by their own lineage, the postmodern person imbibes his hate and fear, links his fate to that of many millions as one, based on the word. This is increasingly in the form of an authority passing judgment on the words or actions of a third party, known by neither the speaker or the listener, more often than not taken out of context, the lie by omission continuing central to our ever more misinformed condition.

Not trusting the authorities by nature, simply because they are the authorities, I have sought information from those who are centuries and ages dead, as they cannot have a goon place a gun to my head.

The power to mislead is eternal, you must think.

As did I.

When I read Victor Davis Hansen misleading by omission the fate of Ancient Thebes, by most historians claiming Herodotus was wrong about the Nile, Scythians, Ethiopians, Persian logistics, then finding evidence that he was correct, I understand that modern historians are lying. With every modern historian adopting the false term “indentured servant” to replace 38 actual period terms for early American forced labor, I know that I am dealing with a rejuvinating nest of vipers, a fraternity dedicated to twisting the Word.

But how does that make the ancient writers any better?

Since human nature remains the same, why are not all writers liars?

I am not a liar. I have written hundreds of books in part because I have spent no time lying that my last book is the most important purchasing decision you can make.

Lying is hard work and is done under scrutiny. That scrutiny is the reason for the lie stream from American Historians.

The legacy of sacred writing seems imbedded in us. This does make the news reporter, speech writer, news caster, novelist, social media influencer, OP/Ed writer, and screen writer something of a priest. Indeed, when book publishers and agents contact me with their largely dishonest and duplicitous sales pitches they do not refer to me as a writer or to my work as writing. They call me an influencer, which is the death of a writer to my mind.

I have tried to write as an informer, not an influencer, as a reporter not as a gossip, in an attempt to write closer to the truth in order to please my teacher, dead these 2347 years, whose name meant Best-purpose. He informed that while the historian reports merely facts, that the poet deals in truths. We live in a day when historians try to deal directly in Truth by arguing about facts, while often omitting facts inconvenient to their proposed truths.

There is a good reason for this. In the time of Herodotus, he declined to write on certain subjects as having been treated by so many others. Those other works have not survived. He was busy assembling facts for consideration: finder, explorer, reporter, interviewer.

This brings up the vast difference in the readership. Ancient writers wrote for one single audience, the elite members of their own ruling class. Only Aesop was a low class writer and his work was assigned to children. These same race, same language, horizontal fraternity members were in a scramble to catalogue and understand a world with limits, a world they did not wish to by infinite.

In stark contrast, the modern writer writes for numerous races up and down a many tiered social pyramid. We writers come from the bottom to the middle, with the most influential occupying the middle rungs. Like the scribe that wrote the account of Gilgamesh for his descendent, our writers write FOR the elite above, TO the Reader below. If we write in the interest of the elite, which may only be done by misinforming the reader, we are rewarded. If we write in the interest of the reader, and therefor against the interest of our masters, we are punished.

The ancient writers, in some cases differed in politics. They did not differ in class interest. The two perpetual enemies of ancient Greece, the Athenians and the Spartans, both cooperated to keep down their enemy’s underclass. The ancients, except perhaps for politicians like Caesar, who did write truthfully on military matters for which there were hundreds of literate witnesses, were honest in service to their mutual interest. The various USG spook agencies might lie to us at every second turn. But, I wager, that their internal memos are written to inform rather than mislead their co-conspiritors, as these are the tools by which we are strangled in the dark.

In Herodotus, Xenophon, Hesiod, Arrian and Tacitus, I have detected self editing for survival. I have not noticed the advancement of obviously false notions such as modern historical axioms that only Africans have been enslaved and that ancients always lied about army size and casualties.

I rely here in part on an advantage that only I hold, my only advantage as a writer, that I have written more than any living human. Think about something you have done more than anyone you know, and how easy it is for you compared to novices to spot something out of place.

The Religion of Football

The late radio social commentator Rush Limbaugh repeated a speech numerous times, about “the religion of football” about how it is played out in the weather and is a mark of the American character, the implication being conservative character. For the past ten years cross current counter culture commentators have spoken of this American obsession with celebrity athletes as proxy avatars, like a steer in the feed lot mooing for the heroic of a rodeo bull. Knowing this, most skeptical social minds I know, the smartest among them, have turned entirely away from sports “programming” and for good reason. The problem with turning away is the danger of not seeing the crooked gaslit way.

I observe and can always find an interest in a contact sport, as violence and aggression has a built in corrective value. When the NFL changed the rules and and prioritized the hiring of black quarter backs, the black wide receiver got less work as his leader ran more and passed short. This expanded the role of the tight end who is now typically a big viking, who jogs out ten paces, catches the ball, and then runs over gridiron pygmies to my Gaelic delight. Such social improvement of the melanin supply and training Caucasian players to dance like hip hop honeys on the field, are merely to please Americans, to give us what our hearts yearn for. However, other changes are done to estrange us from our very essence.

From 2019 to today most commonly viewed adds on NFL telecasts have changed from:

Pickup trucks and beer

To Military and medical

To gambling.

Since that time the most common song heard is ACDC Hell’s Bells, which should give pause to all of Rush’s acolytes.

Football has politely left mornings for church, by broadcasting in the afternoon. But the massive consumption, the tailgating, parties, shopping, pregame shoes have pushed church attendance to all time low in the very Holy Season that Football was placed in.

Accident, you say?

A new song has been added to Sunday football: ACDC High Way to Hell another explicit Satanic conduction song, a song I always found pleasing to the ear and have no complaints about. But, another Hell song on Sunday?

Of interest is that Major League Baseball, in an effort to keep up with shrinking viewer attention spans, has made the game more official heavy and imported more black players to clown. However, these player come from Latin countries and refused to wiggle their ass like Americans. Something else happened. Since I was a boy, John Denver’s Thank God I’m A Country Boy was the most oft played song in MLB stadiums. In the last 60 games I have seen, I have not heard this song once. However, in every game I here Hell’s Bells, and sometimes Highway To Hell.

Yes, you atheists might be happy.

But nature abhors a vacuum.

Programs know.

I noted in the last broadcast, yesterday, watching The Ravens, as my “Christian” family, who chastise me for being some kind of Satanist, though I am the only one who has read the Bible, now in five versions, worshiped “LaMarvellous.”

The term recently introduced and used by every commentator was “redemption.” Teams could seek redemption. Players could seek redemption. Coaches could seek redemption.

The game over, post game show over, a special report was broadcast, “Out Of the Darkness,” on how the only under privileged young men in all of human history, African Americans, have found “redemption through football!” Three case studies showed how young men had gone from being scum to saints, through football.

…

Grave of Blame

My friend passed away the previous Sunday. I let that slip around family and the feast of blame was upon the sweet man they had never met: “What did he eat?” “He shouldn’t have boxed!” “Oh, truck driving is unhealthy.” “Did he go to the doctors regularly or was he like you?”

Blame the dead. This is the most common theme in the eastern U.S. where all bad outcomes, for instance when some of us die when the rest of us live forever on in Elysium never aging, because we abide by USDA dietary guidelines, we point at the others, the few, who succumb to mortality, and blame them for their own demise. This is the culture of Mid Atlantic USG: Blame.

Even when I write a book on how great Robert E. Howard’s writing was I am forced by convention to categorize it as literary criticism. There is not a positive term available. We must be critical. We have two opposing academic models:

Critical thinking [right]

Critical race theory [left]

At best we have investigation relentlessly giving way to skepticism, which gives way to criticism and finally negation.

…

Put on a Dress

I spent 20 hours over the weekend cleaning a Matriarch’s house, not for her, but for Cinderella, her daughter. Holiday cleaning done, Cinderella hugged and thanked me and Matriarch #1 said, “You did such a good job, you should dress like a woman and be a maid. If you get a sex change you’ll look just like this.” She then showed me a picture of a man my age with plastic tits posing in a dress, proud to finally be a woman.

I have 26 days remaining in the bowels of this rancid beast known as the east and will return as little as possible to the soul eating feast.

…

“It is fascinating how fragile our infrastructure is. The recent rains in North Carolina will require changes in topographical maps. It reminds me of Japanese land management, which requires precise study of water flow patterns. Of course, as we see weather patterns which we don’t have experience with in our brief social memory, thought of Velikovsky comes to mind, when he wrote that “Saturn sends the rains” in relation to the Great Flood. Those kinds of civilization ending magnitudes, well, even thinking about it is daunting and, obviously, not much but massive stone work is ever left behind. From your travels, what have you observed concerning potential mid-scale hydraulic change in modern infrastructure.”

-Lynn, from an editorial prompt

…

In terms of what we make, exposure seems to be a big risk factor. Exposure to wind, such as the wide boulevard known as Northern Parkway I travel on. Portions of this avenue are cut along old land creases. Two years ago a tornado blew down this street as if it were a spinning top funneled down a toy race track, down the path of least resistance. Wide roadways seem to be more prone to disaster. These are not only exposed, but are paths of least resistance that are wider and longer than most natural features. These are also not made with stone, but with sticky gravel, oiled dirt in spots, various grades of concrete. These also serve as sewer vectors and storm drains, inviting the rains.

You are best served living along a narrow street that winds and is surfaced in brick.

Train tracks and beds actually hold up much better. These are made of stone, are cross hatched with beams called “ties” and iron rails. Additionally, railways are much more narrow than parallel roads. The side street I live on here, the road surface itself, is slightly wider than a railway that services nationwide traffic. Railroad beds have also been raised, where roads are painted on the landscape, cut through, carved out and sunken. Where railroads cut through, they do so with rock, not into soil banks. Interstates did use this cut process, which is so much uglier than rail, because one lane of a 4 to 12 lane highway is wider than both rail tracks, let alone one. A more narrow, stone cut does less to catch, funnel and intensify wind and flood than wide swaths of harder and therefor slicker, faster surfaces. Also, roads are made steeper than rails, as the train must climb gradually, wind like a river, and behave more naturally and less intensely.

My amateur observations, surely have engineering treatments that I do not understand. I simply note that fast built ways encourage speed of travel for vehicles, winds and water.

Trees are removed more completely for roads than for railways. Also, new developments, due to their erection having to do with making money, not making long term living spaces, built for 30 years maximum habitation, are dozed quickly. The old area of Baltimore I live in at the moment was dozed into lanes as well, going cross ways to various natural drainage patterns. But, these homes were built of brick, with concrete pit basements. Even as these places become ruins and the basements fill to become cisterns, then the brick walls implode and fill the basements, new rocky ridges will have been made.

By contrast, modular homes parked or slapped together

in quick dozed teardrop cuts, have no mature trees between structures, no root system to slow mud floods and prevent mudslides, and are not cut into rock. Quick building of meet-puppet sheds precludes cutting into rock. As insane as coastal sky scraper building is, with 3 to 10 levels of basements only kept from flooding by massive power outlays, side hill mud pan construction on the back sides of soil covered mountains across the country, seem like advertisements for the next Noah movie. When we see the backside of a hill being dozed into mudslide channels, before ultra light one- to two- generation housing is slapped up, and then oil roads are painting on, we realize that this is temporary.

The architects of our fleeting civilization envision the housing of today being quickly overgrown with weeds, [1] forests coming back, and then nature preserves cultivating. The rocky, stone and brick ruins of antiquity often remain, as those were expressions of community, stony attempts at continuity. Only an elite few are envisioned as remaining to enjoy the fruits of a rejuvenated earth after she has been pillaged of her rare earths to erect something sustainable for the human life lines that matter. Most of us are merely the wick and the tallow that feeds the flame kept by our masters; a flame shimmering so that the demons that rule us might take aim at a renewing paradise where they are god stalking among the garden and what remains of us is the mere urine expelled after the drinking of our sorrow for their wicked pleasure the night before.

The plan was always to return North America to its natural state, or power lines would have never bee run above ground, let alone hung under angry skies.

Notes

-1. Quick growing weeds, imported from Japan, I think, are used in Southeastern America to reclaim cheap construction.

“The naivety among highly educated people is something I took for granted for most of my life as a matter of personal nature or of a focus in a specialized field. It I something that has always been more pronounced in Anglo-Americans, particularly in regard to race. Socially insulated Asians have always understood that there is something very different about darker races and that these people will attack you physically. Latinos, of all races and social classes, also recognize such realities and behave accordingly. But the Anglo-American is so blind to simple behavioral realities, and so much more blind the more educated a person is, I wonder if there is a connection between this idea of unique Anglo-American virtues that DO NOT EXIST and the utter banality of our society-wide misconceptions. As a Hispanic person it has been clear to me since childhood that there is something especially gullible, even retarded, about the mainstream American viewpoint. Can you, with your narrative sense, place a finger on the keys that have so thoroughly mislead a nation of fairly brilliant people. It is no small thing for a handful of neglected and abused British government and corporate agents to take a shit hole country like India and make it function well enough to export middle management persons around the world. Yet these same people believe that the policeman is your friend, taxation is a voluntary act and that a negro is no more likely to rape and murder you than a person from Japan.”

-Lynn, from an editorial call.

…

First, a quote from Antiquity’s most insightful historian:

“In these circumstances they did what most of us do and being ignorant of the truth, persuaded themselves into believing what they wished to believe.”

-Arrian, from Alexander the Great

In the case above, Arrian is describing how some international conspirators convinced the democracy of Thebes to vote for their own extinction by revolting against the very power who had already crushed them in war, was currently crushing all numerous other revolts, and had shown benevolence in victory to all, except to rebels. Thebes committed such a manic act of suicide, that the extermination of this entire people, and the sale of the women and children into slavery, shocked even their ages old enemies with “a thrill of terror.” It would be resolved in the minds of their friends and enemies alike as an expression of “The Wrath of God,” stemming from the numerous sins of this arrogant people, to include a jealous thirst for genocide. The willing self-assisted genocide complete, the very nameless conspirators whose agents convinced the most powerful state in Greece to act on behalf of its own extinction, were there to “dispose” of the captives and their possessions, to feed this people into the ledgers the international money power as completely as a furnace would burn so much coal.

Historians then, to include Arrian, who demonstrates a genuine fear of the shadowy bankers that ruled his boss, Hadrian, to include Victor Davis Hansen, best historian of our age, all look away from the mechanics of the great play of man. Our established inquirers are permitted to examine that actors and the script.. Absent from their inspection are the writers, producers, directors, editors, casting agents, gaffers, stuntmen and fixers, along with an army of other functionaries necessary to propel the movie of reality forward. Our best historians discuss our past, as our reporters do the present, with the feigned innocence of some stone age savage who might be shown a movie and believe it is a dance of gods reflected in the mirror of Heaven and that the hundreds credited agents scrolling at the end of the movie are so many tears for the departed—and perhaps they are.

Below are some sign posts, collected chronologically, in the staircase of lies that has brought humanity up out of memory into the rarefied heights of absolute, amnesiac, ignorance:

50 B.C. to A.D. 200

Rome made a desert and called it peace.

…

A.D. 325

Christendom rose to governance over Rome and declared all that came before to have been a lie.

…

A.D. 750-1200

The idea that honor is a civilized notion, that grew out of domestic living, despite its pastoral barbarian origin, takes hold as Heathenry is swallowed almost whole by Christendom.

…

A.D. 1215

The Magna Carta demoted God from judge to witness and bared the king on earth from protecting orphans and widows from creditors.

…

A.D. 1337 to 1453

The Norman Kings ruling polyglot England, feuding with their fellow French relations across the channel, began promoting the fantasy that England was “Anglo-Saxon.”

…

A.D. 1453

The fall of Constantinople, Shield of Eastern Christendom, to Muslims is facilitated by Christian Italians, Germans, and numerous other Christian races.

A.D. 1453 - 1618

The notion that Christendom does not physically exist, is replaced by the idea that Europe, which is a fantastical construct with zero geographical reality supporting it, does exist like beating heart of Christian virtue and material progress.

A.D. 1648 – 1860

European and American Christians cease describing themselves first as Christians and then according to nations, and instead describe themselves as “white” first, with this odd notion as superior to one’s nation as Christian identity had been before. There is zero recorded uses of the term white as a racial noun employed before the Dutch Ora Linda book circa 1200, with no common use of this term until after 1730.

…

A.D. 1865 - 1948

The hundreds of millions of slaves born and broken in bondage across the great swath of human life are posthumously emancipated and declared to have willingly worn their chains, with the soul exception of Sub-Saharan Africans recently owned by “whites.” The erasure of nearly all of human experience in a single century of historical omission and word replacement was like a comet strike upon the planetary mind.

…

A.D. 1900 – 1958

The codification of propaganda doctrine and its amplification in narrative moralization, news fabrication, editorial distortion and advertising deception via movies, radio and TV, completely captured the mass mind.

…

A.D. 1960s to 90s

The definitions of B.C. for Before Christ and of A.D. for In the Year of Our Lord, being changed to B.C.E. Before Common Era and C.E. Common Era, is a lie so big that it frames all human existence in falsehood. That historians went along with this in order to continue having works published, sent a chill of realization into my soul, that the battle for the human mind had, by 1998, been won by the Agents of Darkness.

…

2001

An obvious attack upon the American people by USG, is believed by virtually all Americans to have been conducted by a handful of Arab playboys based in a landlocked and impoverished Arуan nation. The resulting measures codified thought and speech as crime and initiated a generation of domestic terror news coverage that was mostly fabricated, culminating in the partial lobotomy of the American mind in 2016, followed by the final loss of public sanity and replacement of consciousness with a USG induced dream state in 2020.

Those, Dear Lady, are the steps I see in the Staircase to Elevated Deception, that has forever blinded this iteration of humanity until Heaven smites this lie- festering earth. And makes way for truth again.

Oh, I forgot: Rainbow Ponies grazing upon Big Rock Candy Mountain!

“I really did not understand your affinity with the urban blight matrix that most of us believed was a social malfunction, until you convinced me through your writing that the crime that was given peak expression in the Baltimore Riots was an outcome of a desired social function. The chill that I felt when I finally realized that we are ruled by evil people, who mix and match violent idiots with peacefully productive people to enhance and maintain control, is one of the reasons why I began reading fiction again, your fiction. You were the only social commentator that was making accurate predictions and also lived those conditions. I suspected that this had to do with you writing fiction and nonfiction, so began reading Reverent Chandler when you were serializing it on the site. Since then I have noticed that my girls, who have read a large quantity of fiction appropriate to their age, and even have ongoing fictional story lines that they develop, complete with paper wardrobes for their characters, have a natural grasp of adult behavior where their peers seem to be clueless.

-Lynn, from an editorial call, in fact a writing assignment

…

Dear Lady, lets begin with a quote from an ancient man from an age when poetry and science coexisted in the same minds:

“To inquiry into the structure of the plot…”

“The instinct of imitation is implanted in man from childhood…”

Aristotle defines poetry as various means of imitation, of men as they are, better than they are, worse than they are, and of their actions. Once dialogue had been brought into tragedy, Aristotle assures us that “nature herself,” took a hand in the process of imitative morality in representing the acts of characters of “a higher type.”

“It is not the function of the poet to relate what has happened, but what may happen, to relate the possible… the poet and the historian differ, not by writing in prose or verse. The work of Herodotus might be put into verse and it would still be a species of history… The true difference is that one relates what has happened, the other what may happen. Poetry therefore is a more philosophical and a higher thing than history. Poetry tends to express the universal, history the particular. By the universal I mean how a person of a certain type will speak or act… he is a poet because he imitates, and what he imitates are actions…”

-On Poetics

If we here take the greatest know scientist of Antiquity at his word in this serious work On Poetry, then we discard the poetic arts, known today as fiction, at great peril. After listening to this book many times, a few years ago, I finally understood the phenomenon of the impractical and naive person of high intelligence and elevated education. Having no sense for how people of various sorts act and interact is to put one’s self in a perilous social position.

I have noticed that the quality of fiction improved and gained greater currency in the 1800s and early 1900s and has declined steadily since the codification of propaganda doctrine in 1928, by Edward Bernays. I suspect that creative writing has increasingly found greater monetary rewards for advertising, for mind control, for the induction of the reader or listener or viewer into a state of artificial need and vulnerability, of a perceived peril or want. Once such a person has been reduced to need, hunger, thirst, sadness, want, or coaxed into hysteria, anger or belief, the influencing party may profit from fulfilling that need or desire. Today publishers no longer refer to what I do as a writer as writing. I am no longer a writer, but an “influencer;” a mere lesser species of the type, clinging to the old outmoded form of the word, once sacred to men of thought, now a lubricant used to intoxicate those minds to be bought. These processes might not be entirely designed, and may in part be convergent, such as enforced or cultivated loneliness increasing the opportunity for the sale of porn, drugs, hope and hate.

When I first began writing and sought a printer through the Small Business Administration, to publish a game, my mentor spent a half hour explaining why I should publish a book that would fall apart as early as possible, ideally after the first read, in order to assure the sale of future print runs. The entire role playing game business model was built on designed obsolescence and the need for more rules to fix poor rules to power sales.

I think that the current system agenda is to nullify our very instinct to seek the truth or to be waiting with lies positioned in those corners where a truth seeker is likely to go looking for answers to the lies he has been inundated with.

I have noted that increased desire for authentic fiction, to write it and read it, has come in bursts that follow massive propaganda:

American Civil War

1870s

Spanish American War

1900s

The Great War

1920s & 30s

The Greater War

1950s & 60s

Not so after the end of the Cold War, when poetic dearth deepened, or now after the commencement of the never ending War on Terror. There was been a system correction. State agencies and media [banking] agencies now employ the most talented writers to craft daily fiction for the masses and predict future social conditions.

The structured fabrication of American history as a web of lies supported by a pillar of omission in the late 1800s and early 1900s saw a great expansion of popular working class fiction. This was a subconscious instinct to counter the thought crimes of newspapers, which traffic in the lie daily, beaming perpetually renewed gaslight into our mind’s eye. I read this as an instinctive reaction of the hands-on person to the obvious fabrication of a false national foundation. Distrust of the upper class histories that told a descendant of a slave that his forefathers could not be slaves for a slave could not be the same race as his master, at the very time that the worker’s boss was doing everything in his power to enslave him, drove both escapist and speculative fiction.

After WWI propaganda and advertising took over the mass mind and the best speculative writers went to work largely in unpopular seclusion, to be discovered by later propagandized generations.

The mainstream of fictional refuge for the rational mind has been mined ahead of the seeker in the form of movie and TV, shaping the mass mind into an irrational yet notional beast, forever insecure and afraid. The burgeoning “Mental Health” mind control clinics and the booming “Public Safety” corporate goon barracks are named according to the lie, their very identity, such as the War Department being changed to the Department of Defense, a product of mass mind creation, to shape the public into the thing that perfectly fits the hand that wields it.

Currently, the speculative fiction field for this past generation, has been quite barren. I think this is due to those creative minds attuned to social futurism, to what was in a faith-based age described as prophecy, having been captured by the system to work internal to it. An example is Greg Bear, once the very best hard science fiction near future author, going to work for a federal law enforcement agency as their very own house novelist!

It is a curious aspect of our age that so few people understand how power works, that most people deny the existence of the basic method of social domination that has been the key to our oppression, suppression, inspection and deception: Conspiracy.

To even consider the notion of conspiracy, that one or more parties would cooperate for their own mutual benefit at the expense of one or more other parties, is tantamount to a confession of insanity.

I suggest here that one of the keys to this odd human devolution is the taking away of our story, to include our sense for a truthful story.

As an antidote try reading the fiction of:

Jack London

Edgar Rice Burroughs

Harold Lamb

C. S. Lewis

Robert E. Howard

J.R.R. Tolkien

Phillip K. Dick

Poul Anderson

Gene Wolfe

Then, look at the world anew and see it filled with ten lies for every truth.

“Recently one of the Red Scare girls made it big and sat in on a Fox News round table. In addressing the government program of population replacement, she side-stepped that glaring fact and said that the reason why bringing 10,000 Haitians into a small Ohio town is not a good idea, is that these immigrants do not share the Anglo-Saxon sense of honor and fair play. Right before the panel is the example of an Anglo-American factory owner with 30 jobs, who he wants to go to people who will except lower wages. All he cares about is the lowest wages for his 30 workers and accepts no responsibility for the 10,000 unemployed Haitians or the damage done to his community by soaring rental rates. It is astonishing to me that Americans see the entire Anglo-Saxon experience as an extension of a hallowed antiquity that these people did not share with the Ancients in any case, and, while ignoring most of American history, place a backdrop of fair play behind the greatest empire the world has ever seen. Of course, any understanding of empire will teach that an empire cannot abide by standards of honor and fair play, that it must be a lowest common denominator consumption machine. Before getting into why the Anglo-American delusion is so persistent, perhaps you could give some examples of Anglo-Saxon honor and fair play.”

-Lynn, in an editorial call

…

I am off line writing this so dates are put of my head.

Actual Anglo-Saxons, kind of existed in 1066, ruling over Gaelic, Britano-Roman and even Jutish remnants. Britain was and is an invasion destination, a place where dozens of refugee and pirate nations piled up upon and against one another.

At Stanford Bridge a Viking berserker held off the entire Anglo-Saxon army on his own, on a foot bridge, until an honorable Anglo snuck under the bridge and stabbed him in the balls, most fairly and with little play.

An hour later, Harald Hadrata was cutting through the same army of honor and fair play who could not stand against this single man. So some archer shot him in the throat.

Days later, William the Conqueror, challenged this same army of honor and fair play and was bested at Hastings until, one of his archers shot King Harold Godwinson in the eye!

England was now Norman, with the Anglo-Saxon elements thoroughly crushed into peasantry and slavery.

In Norman England, the vile Magna Carta was drafted in 1215. This takeover of church and king by banking interests, demoted God from judge to witness, and then took away the King’s duty to protect the widows and orphans of his deceased loyalist knights from the soul driving bankers. This document set the lie in motion that blinds us to this day. [1]

Calling England Anglo-Saxon was not a habit in the roughly 200 years when the rulers spoke French. This lie was adopted in the 100 Years War in order to encourage the longbow using peasants, renamed “Yeoman” to follow their kings to war in France.

1380s: Wat Tyler’s daughter was raped by a tax collector. He and other peasants rose up and defeated church and state forces. When Wat met with the boy King to swear loyalty under new terms, he was murdered.

I am skipping hundreds of years of skulldugery here.

1570 or so: After a battle lost to a Spanish fleet off Vera Cruz, Francis Drake threw his commander, John Hawkins “under the bus,” and became the Queen’s new favorite sea dog.

1585 thru 1609: Conspirators working for the Virginia Company, to include Drake, Captain’s Lane, John Smith and a Portuguese Pilot, conspire to maroon John White’s settlers bound for the Chesapeake on Roanoke Island, leaving them to the mercy of Spanish and Indians they had recently attacked. This was so that Sir Walter Riliegh would lose his deed to Virginia, which he did, along with his head.

1588: the best fighting captain of England, Sir Richard Grenville was made to sit at anchor in Bristol Harbor with his 51 ships, to prevent him from winning fame in battle and redeeming the cause of Rileigh. Grenville would take his flagship, at a later date, out against a Spanish fleet, as a sign of protest against the entirely absent sense of honor and far play among the Norman-British ruling elites.

1675-6:

The Wompanoag tribe rose up against the English for cheating, raping and land fraud, and the imposition of gun control.

13 Susquehannock allies of England are murdered by a planter in Virginia.

100 Susquehannock warriors battle an 800 man Maryland and Virginia army to a draw and are invited to parlay. The English murder the chiefs, and still lose the next battle.

The surviving Susquenhannock’s settle in North Carolina, where the English employ another tribe to befriend and then murder them. The English then murder their own allies!

Bacon and his murderers are compelled to revolt, and do defeat the governor, because the few newly freed men, are prevented from land owning and voting, and are employed as militia. This only tool, musket and sword, they turn on their masters. The last act of this war, sees an unbeatable force of mixed African and European rebels agree to quite fighting in return for passage across a river to freedom. The English captain who made this deal, revoked it and put the men back in chains.

1678: the remaining garrison of the kings soldiers brought to Virginia to quell the revolt are abandoned to starvation.

Samuel Wisemen, keeper of the book of record for the king’s agents, was not paid for his work, and seems to have perished of want.

1685-1740: Anglo-American Planters brought in some 300,000 Africans, at great expense, at 4 times the cost of as many Europeans, in order to establish a breeding population of captive labor that would prevent those few small land holders on the margins of the great plantations from bootstrapping their way into competition. Free work by day and crime by night to drive away neighbors was the reason why the African American came to exist. The corrupt lack of honor and fair play in the so called Anglo mind is so powerful that it trumps race and faith!

I am skipping the 13 books of evidence that I massed in the Plantation America series as to the fraudulent nature of the unpaid labor scheme used to build America, which is fraudulently depicted by posthumous slander upon our ancestral dead to this dastard day.

1750s: The tribes paid to defend the planters of Pennsylvania, mostly revolt and go into service with the French in the Seven Years War, due the cheating, rum- dealing, land-stealing, enslavement and raping committed under English law.

From the 1750s, thru the 1890s, British agents and later American legislators will abrogate scores of treaties with many tribes, for no other reason than gain, respecting not the honor of their own nation or the word of their forefathers.

Daniel Boone and Simon Kenton, the two greatest frontiersmen to break the grip of the British Empire by exploring and settling among British client tribes over the Appalachian divide, are cheated of their land claims and pushed into poverty by Anglo-American lawyers. Boone will move all the way to Missouri and would hunt as far as Idaho in his 60s and 70s simply to outrun the rapacious agents of Anglo-America, the cheats that follow every brave and honorable enterprise with graft and corruption.

The works of Charles Dickens amply illustrate the SEVERE absence of honor and fair play intrinsic to the Anglo-American social machine. This evil is so deep and so blithely veiled, that it does not occur to the idiot American mind herd, that what this machine needs in times of unrest is a savage servant, not a civic soul.

Lynn, I could go on and on, and skipped quite a many things, such as the desertion of the Shawnee by their Anglo allies in 1813, the capture of the Seminole Chief Oceola under a flag of truce, the government persecution of Lewis Wetzel for continuing his feud with the Shawnee, the use of Lakota warrior in American pay to slaughter the women and children of Black Hawk’s Sauk tribe, the death by starvation of the British sailors who had defeated the French Revolution from 1805-15, in the coldest year on record, 1816, the failure to pay and care for American veterans of WWI, the betrayal, persecution, desertion and mass opiate addiction of American veterans of Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan.

Lynn, no empire may be maintained through honorable means so long as its life blood is money, which is power utterly, even necessarily, removed from morality.

…

Notes

-1. The Lies that Bind Us

“Charleroi, PA—a town of just 4,000 people—has been overwhelmed by thousands of Haitian immigrants.

But nobody seems to know where they're coming from.

Steve works as a paramedic in Charleroi. He tells us that vans carrying the immigrants come and go "at all hours of the night."

The above was sent to me by Mo, a female reader concerned about America. I know America to be a lie. What is happening is that USG has become so nigh and mighty that the veil is rent in places that even the media blinded normal person may see.

Across the nation I have seen Africans, all male, very polite, fit, military types for the most part.

Charleroi is mostly of interest to me, because I had my first boxing match in a gym there, the same gym that world champion Michael Moorer trained in as a youth. Such small Pennsylvania towns around Pittsburgh abound in the old railroad cuts. A place like McKee’s Rocks, Charleroi, Oakdale, these are creek and/or railroad crossings without much room to expand. That 4,000 folks must now accept a host that will swamp them, does make me sad. A bit sad, somewhat less sad than the fact I can’t really fight anymore.

In Baltimore County, at White Marsh, three years ago, six 120 unit condo plexes were built cheaply. I take the bus right by there. What I see now, as the many Africans or Haitians on the bus sit quietly, is that the parking lot is full of nice cars at morning and mid day, and that those people visible on their balconies are African or Haitian. Until they speak with their French accent, I cannot tell a Haitian from an African unless they are dressed for church, or if they have women.

At the end of the line, at the park & ride when I offloaded, I spent a half hour on Sunday and ten minutes on Monday this week. In that combined 40 minutes I witnesses three, that is 3, Peter Pan buses pull up and disgorge Africans. I could tell they were Africans, because the women and girls were dressed in beautiful colors, dresses and head scarfs showing off very fit and healthy figures, not a fatty in the bunch. Two men were picked up by a fellow African driving a 70K pickup.

In the late 1600s, Bacon’s Rebellion in Virginia, and revolts and revolutions in Maryland, New York and Boston, convinced slave owners that they must import a more obedient population. Four times the cost of a European was paid by a planter for an African. Rather than importing 95% male European slaves, the planter wanted mated or breeding Africans so he could, with this investment, breed his small farming American rival out of business. This was the strategy that won New England, a 7 to 1 breeding advantage.

Since Ebeneezer Cook cursed the “slaves” of Maryland to be beset by African cannibals for their poor treatment of him in 1707, Maryland was flooded by Africans until the 1790s. In the 1790s, Baltimore passed ordinances to do away with African slaves, as they were used for violence by slave owners against non slave owners, driving down housing values and driving out people not of the Master Class. After the importation of African slaves was stopped, Baltimore became a thriving city, The Monument City, greatest city of all the southern slave states.

In the 1830s and 40s manumission and shipment out of the state of any and all slaves, to include David Holiday, white slave for life, was pursued with more vigor in Maryland than in all other states combined. After 1865 Maryland became more productive, more peaceful, a leader of industry. Then, in the late 1800s to early 1900s, increasing numbers of southern African Americans were brought into Baltimore for domestic help and as a buffer against the lower class European immigrants working in industry.

After WWII, wages were too high, and home owners in Baltimore had developed communities with extended family living, in which houses were passed from generation to generation. Southern blacks were brought in to drive the working class and middle class from the city and into the suburbs.

Finally, as the dark thugs of Baltimore and other cities have been stretched out along long roads driving the crackers from the suburbs they were once driven to by these same people, USG ran out of foot soldiers. During the race riots of 2020, only a fraction of the rioters were black, it was mostly whites working for the cause. The ability to commit organized violence has always confounded the African. The unique hybrid Anglo-African criminal culture in America, which enabled senseless violence to clear real estate, has been much reduced in this population. Over the years since the defund the police program, blacks have become freshly docile, as they realize that when they attack a cracker and then call the police for backup, that the police won’t bother.

The pale bad guy is now able to walk the streets of his gro-ravaged city with impunity. Troons, sissies, tunes, women and money men, etc., still live in peril and must be safely transported by some machine. But homeless crackers may now live on the streets in Baltimore City, a play too dangerous for that since 1968. Additionally, since African American blood has recently been bred so thin with all of this ebony and ivory inter-humping, we now have a weak crop of what the ghetto sisters call “milk duds.” Additionally, this demographic is reducing that watered down breeding rate as they aspire to the ivory tower.

USG ran short of looters and rapists! They must now ship in raw talent. Africans tend to be much less criminally inclined than African Americans and Haitians. The exception is Liberians who come here. That American colony in Africa, is, along with Haiti, the best off-shore African American production center.

Haiti is one of the three small African nations who had their leader killed for not promoting jiveteen vaϲϲination. Of the dozen or so “Jamaicans” on the hit team, all but one had U.S. citizenship! In the supermarket business, it was well know that the two toughest types of team-based shoplifters, were Gypsies and Haitians. Haitians demonstrate much better organic organization than African Americans. Additionally, they have a history of slaughtering Europeans! Tribalism in Haitians is nearly as strong as in Africans. They do not, however, suffer from the White Daddy mythos that afflicts Africans due to colonial rule, which was much less nasty than Plantation rule. If the reader wonders at the Belgians in the Congo, read Search For An American Spartacus, available as an ebook on this site, and know that although Colonial Africa did exist, Colonial America did not, only Plantation America, where millions were broken, branded and slaughtered.

Haitians do not come from a place where government is naively regarded as a servant to the people, but rather a real world where the government is understood to be the strongest gang of looters. The Haitian mind has been prepared from infancy, to savagely thrive under USG.

If I was president I would hand a machete and a handle of cheap rum to every Haitian willing to swear fealty to USG.

Long Live Leviatroon

Wicked Fortune has had Her way with us since we crash landed in this garden of bad ideas.

This tramp, as our Webmaster has informed me I am properly identified, has benefited from your support of many kinds: books gifted in the mail, messages and calls by phone and skype when i was low and worse, encouraging emails, old style snail mails, meetings at bars, vitamins in the mail, protein powder on your guest desk, beatings with stick, fist and waster, rides to the hospital, even holding me up so i could piss in a urinal when I was crippled, and help lifting the 27 pound life strapped to my deteriorated back...

You readers, who i am recently relived to discover number only in the hundreds, not the thousands, have sustained this geriatric revolt against the postmodern overworld. You have taught me that the boon of being cursed—as i do think a Haitian voodoo man did me down on June 7th, 2023 at Harford and Hamilton for the crime of urban generosity—that this gift of ire from the evil-workers among us on this stage and behind the curtain, is that it brings us to the attention of good-givers, of angels sent to mend the rent. Some of you few readers are such.

Currently the following projects are the focus of this tiny and adjoining spaces:

-1. Plantation America efforts center on a massive three volume work: In This New Isrаel: Sowers, Reapers & Inheritors, projected to be about 2100 pages or a half million words, hopefully complete in 2026. Sections are posting on patreon and include the lives of John Harrower, Isrаel Potter, and Moses Roper and the relations of Mort, Smith and Lane.

-2. The Son of God, Arrian's Alexander, is under way and posting on Substack. Achilleas of Thessolonika has been proofing this and providing name corrections. This is looking to run to more than one volume. Part 1 I am committed to complete by November 2025.

-3. Enemy of All Mankind, my inquiry into an apparent and ancient conspiracy against humanity, is already around 300 pages and should be complete by November 2025. Much of this will post on this site and, for more sensitive subjects, on substack.

-4. A Gaslight Knight, is my current fiction project, all but the last chapter to run here.

-5. Jeth Randolph, of Casting Darts Publications and I are working on Vunak of Antares, a planetary romance, using skype calls and a crude hammer and wrench game system to work out gladiatorial combats between bad asses pulled from history to battle before alien gods. The resulting book will be gifted to Mister Vunak, who we have virtually abducted as a protagonist. The novel will run here and on Jeth's substack.

-6. Adam Smith of Myth of the 20th Century and Coach Finstock of Full Haus have reached out about possible January podcasts.

-7. My writing goal is to complete 8 novels, 2 biographies and 2 histories in 2025. Travel writing will be limited to appendices relevant to these other three categories.

-8. Travel plans for February and April include Colorado and the Southwest.

-9. Time in the Mid-Atlantic will be limited to 6 weeks in spring and 5 weeks in early Autumn.

-10. A reader and one time crackpot podcast cohost may be hosting a recorded discussion in April.

-11. Lynn Lockhart is working on Gallows Born, a hardback trilogy.

-12. I am arranging the print publication of some 70 extant titles with Casting Darts Publishing and three other parties.

Thank you all.

I can only repay you by improving as a writer, and so aim to make it so.

-JL, Portland, Oregon, 12/31/24