Saturday, December 30, 2017

Mission: Subdue Baltimore as Cheaply as Possible

A Man Question for James LaFond From @realAlexNichol:

James responds:

Drop the 82nd Airborne on Baltimore with the following mission:

Jail all elected and appointed officials other than police.

Execute corrupt cops, using the federal task force of 20 agents investigating the BPD as informants.

Publicly whip the federal agents and send them back to D.C.

Use the remaining 70% of the BPD as guides.

Kill all gang members-all, no prisoners.

Load all welfare mothers on C-130s to Libyan slave markets.

Assign all orphans to affluent households in the various liberal white enclaves and let them deal with the problems their remote meddling have caused.

Turn over the City government to The Nation of Islam as a provisional body to oversee elections in which only employed or propertied men over 35 are permitted to vote.

Permit racial segregation, where neighborhoods vote for it. 

It would be the best city in America inside a month.

Alternatively, task the A-10 Squadron at Martins Air Force reserve to level the city and then resettle it.

(c) 2017 James LaFond

Friday, December 29, 2017

Supplicant Song

A Tribes Yarn by James LaFond

A Tale of Ancient Oth

Dice the Scrounge is a Damned Fixer, a cursed man, denied rejoining with the Faceless God he serves in return for the enjoyment of the many vices that those he ministers to on behalf of His Unseen Omniscience have forsworn. Life at World’s End, in Yugra-Sahg, the Sacred City of Supplication, is good enough for Dice—until the cruel boot treads of the one called Phane, ruined the perfect game, and, of somewhat less importance, placed Dice on a transcendent path he could quite well enough do without.

A Jerkhouse Book
A Graphomania Pulp Yarn
Copyright 2017 James LaFond

Cover Art
-The Supplicant’s Way by Richard Thomas

Tribes Graphomania Pulp Yarns Series Synopsis

Each Tribes yarn is set in the Ancient Future of Oth.

These stand-alone Science-Fiction/Fantasy novelettes are extracted from the author’s unpublished 1992 Source Book, Tribes.

Each yarn will be the classic pulp length of the short novelette, between 7,000 and 14,000 words, told in 3-7 chapters, with the complete yarn published in an affordable book.

The cover, dust cover and first chapter will be published at

Saturday, December 23, 2017

Ritual Hegemony

How Do Masculine Rites Reflect Western Cultural Dominance Throughout the Ages?

Written for Myth of the 20th Century by James LaFond

There are four aspects of sports:


All four of these aspects are present in a given sport at a given time.  However, the social mechanisms key on the primacy of each aspect, with that aspect most predominant in the current social setting, marking the rise, apex and decline of a given athletic ritual.

The term athlete comes from the ancient Hellenic words for "prize seeker," so an athlete is not just a practitioner of a primal, tribal, ritual or spectacular art, but one whose aim is to be rewarded with honors or material.  The further a sport is from its origin and the further into decline the host society, the more material gain supplants honor as the prize.

This degradation has a corollary in masculine domestication in the wider sphere as well, a degradation of masculinity that begins at the very dawn of civilization, in chiefdoms such as the Achaean society of the Iliad, in which the material resources of Agamemnon brought more social leverage in an honor-based society than the actual honor accrued by Achilles.  Likewise, Beowulf, most honored man of the epic named after him, is employed as a tool by a dynasty based on wealth accumulation which lay prostrate before their enemy, unable to defend themselves.

In Alexander’s singular quest to conquer the world as a boyish exploration and godlike aspiration, he literally carted soil for wrestling on wherever his armies went, to the point where his men called themselves, “the boys from the gym” planting their hyper-masculine values wherever they went. His every conquest was consecrated with athletic contests, mostly in honor of Herakles, the demigod later most admired by the Romans, as a re-ascendant being.

Emergence, Evolution and Devolution of Sports


All sports contain aspects of the hunt, with aiming, chasing and wrangling [wrestling, lifting, bull riding, etc.] being present in all forms.  Thus the first prehistoric sports were most likely preparations for the hunt.

There are also significant gathering aspects, especially in ball sports, which are exclusively tribal and were played by women nearly as often as men in Western societies.

The modern and postmodern focus on ball sport as the definition of masculine expression is, in and of itself, symptomatic of a deep emasculation.  In the ancient world, there was only one kind of athlete, and he fought. [Track and field athletes were considered combat artists, as they engaged in segments of a warrior’s preparation and war tasks.]


Team ball sports are quintessential examples of tribal athletics, which served primarily as bonding rites—often across gender and age lines—but not across alien or enemy lines.

The urge for WWI soldiers to play ball between the lines, documented by Ernst Junger, and which was ruined by the officers in charge of ethno-cultural negation ordering snipers to fire on the players to reignite false hatreds, are a good example of the social purpose of masculine ritual, to preserve competing societies of the same ethnicity from extermination.  The “Rules of War,” ceasefires and truces are essentially based on athletic frame works at least 4,000 years old.

A ball sport is supposed to pit one identified group against another and often contains gathering and capture elements, with the goalkeeper of many modern ball sports being an actual descendant of the early modern gaolkeeper, who jailed runaway slaves until they could be resold.

The natural human affinity for such community versus community contests has been harnessed in modern times to render the spectacle of degenerate sports addictive in a way that ancient spectacles were not.  When ball sports evolve beyond amateur associations and the players become mercenary in character, the natural tribal affinity for inter-community, sub-lethal skirmishing had been successfully hijacked by the manipulative class into a tool for subverting, rather than affirming, community identity.


The first evidence of specific forms of ritual combat were as follows:

Wrestling, 20,000 BP, Spain
Dueling, 5,000 BP, Sumer
Boxing, 4,000 BP, Indo-Aryan Conquests

Such rites were generally maintained as exclusive to combative classes of men, with notable exceptions such as the warrior-slaves of the Roman arena, known as gladiators.  All such rites, in the ancient world, had sacral aspects, which were maintained even in the face of spectacular degradation [1] and the rise of professional athletes and slave athletes, the most famous of the latter being charioteers.

When the classical world fell into decline, such masculine rituals were first sought as wells of spiritual rejuvenation by the upper class, with senators and even an emperor, turning their backs on civic life to compete in the arena.  At the end of this social decline, athletics and gladiatorial combat were abolished altogether, with their eventual rebirth in the early modern period as dueling rose in Feudal Europe and then gave way to boxing in early-Modern Europe.  Once reborn in Europe, these masculine rituals were first criminalized and then aggressively regulated by governments.

Eventually all advanced societies chain the masculine ritual to a spectacle format which in some way degrades the contestant and places him in a state of social judgment.  Anti-boxing statutes, the bans on dueling, referees, umpires, judges, athletic codes and commissions are all expressions of the ruling elite’s innate fear of masculine agency, particularly in individualistic combative form.  In fact, athletic commissions only oversee individual combat sports, not team ball sports.  The lowest grossing sports draws the highest government regulation expenditures.

This State fear of masculine agency—particularly of the individual hero—is well expressed in the 1970s movie Rollerball, starring James Caan as Jonathan. [2]


Pre-combat war dances, coming-of-age rites and victory dances, were probably the first public spectacles and were, on a tribal level, participatory expressions, not passively observed ceremonies.  Such do not become passive until external, alien rule is exerted one tribe upon the other.

In proto-nations, or chiefdoms, use of such rites by the elite toward a unified social cohesion in line with the ruler’s aspirations are in evidence, such as the dancing of Zulu maidens before their husbands-to-be, who could not marry until they had wet their spears in battle.

By the time tribal chiefdoms had been welded into larger polities, such as Athens, with its dozen tribes and Elis with its three, masculine rites were expanded from private observances such as a Roman son making two captives fight to the death before his father’s tomb in 366 B.C., to become social rudders such as the Olympics, chariot races in the Circus Maximus and the sanguine spectacles of the Arena [sands], which were originally conducted in the Forum and Circus and later in purpose-built amphitheaters.

Comparing Roman and American Spectacle Arcs

Gladiatorial combat [munera, from “rites due the dead”] provides the best arc from the private sacral rite to the obsessively diversionary spectacle from the ancient world.


In 366 B.C., in early vigor, poised to conquer the entirety of non-Greek, tribal Italy, Rome began employing warrior slaves to sanctify patriarchal burials.

The American corollary is the 1869 [3] formation of intercollegiate football, in the wake of the Civil War, as America geared up to conquer the remaining, non-British, adjacent, tribal lands.


By 146 B.C., as Greece was conquered, dedicated amphitheaters were being built as the Republic entered an expansionist phase which would see it supplanting the Hellenistic empires of the east.

The American corollary is the 1892 [4] establishment of professional football, an overt territory conquest rite, just as America began to challenge old world industrial might, and set its sights on atrophied Spanish Dominions and entered unprecedented an unrepeated spate of civic construction. Most notable East Coast architecture comes from the period 1890-1914.

Circa 100 B.C., Republican Rome entered a decadent era, in which slave rebellions and civil wars resulted in the usurpation of the Republic into an empire and increased military adventure abroad, culminating in the rise of empire under Augustus in 27 B.C. and, most tellingly to the Roman psyche, the loss of three legions in Germany in A.D. 9.

The American corollary to this would be the 1920 formation of the American Professional Football Association, in the midst of domestic labor upheavals, far flung wars, first with culturally similar and later alien peoples, culminating in the humiliating debacle of the Vietnam War, ending in 1975 which was, in Roman parlance, America’s Teutoburg Forest.


By A.D. 80, after the decadence of Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius and Nero and the rise of the Flavians, who were military reactionaries, one sees the peak of architecture dedicated to spectacles as part of a state-driven campaign to extol masculine virtue before a passive audience.

The American corollary, in the 1970s, was the surpassing of Major League Baseball by the NFL in the wake of the Vietnam humiliation, well documented in the book, The Last Head Bangers.

By 180 B.C., after a period of Roman expansion under the rule of the Five Good Emperors [Nerva, Trajan, Hadrian, Antonius Pius and Marcus Aurelius], internal decline and moral malaise set in, resulting in the spectacles taking on the same diversionary escapism one sees on weekends in American households before the television and at the stadium, and also serving the same function as the welfare state.  For the only chance a poor Roman got to eat meat and where he sometimes received his bread dole, was at the gladiatorial amphitheater or circus.

From this point forward, few Roman emperors would die a natural death, but would be replaced at sword point, with Rome wracked by civil wars for the rest of its history until Constantine’s reform basically halved the Romam Imperium between Latin West and Greek East from A.D. 324 - 37 [5].

As civil wars raged, so were successful claimants called to police weakening external borders, such as Septimius Severus’s fatal invasion of Caledonia in 208 [6], with the empire actually reaching its power projection zenith under his reign, even as it collapsed morally and economically along internal lines.

The American corollary was the prominence of football as “the American religion” and “the religion of football” [to quote Rush Limbaugh] promoted by many as a defining American cultural phenomenon, even as military adventure ramped up to an “imperial influence maintenance” scale from 1991 through the present, only to have that image precipitously collapse.

Parting Notes on Roman/American Emasculation Corollaries
Just as the elite would eventually sully the arena and their own moral stature by going into it as part of the spectacle [Commodus for example], causing Roman thinkers to look upon the arena spectacles as a symbol of national decline rather than a display of manly virtue, as an obvious diversionary social brake on the common consciousness, the NFL scandals which accompanied the rise of Leftist political correctness and Rightist political dissidence circa 2012 have gutted “the religion of football” and broken its mystique.

After Severus, Roman soldiers were increasingly non-Roman mercenaries.  Likewise, since the collapse of support for the ongoing Iraqi conflict, the U.S. has increasingly employed proxy forces in other developing conflicts.

At about A.D. 200, Roman birthrates began to decline markedly.

Also, at this time, traditional Greco-Roman cults were beginning to lose ground to Egyptian, Semitic and Mithraic forms of spiritual expression—the cult of Rome was dying and would be replaced, under Constantine, by an anti-athletic religion, which abolished all forms of masculine ritual.

In postmodern America, as athletics are no longer fields of virtuous expression and positive behavior cultivation, where our stone churches are now resettlement centers for people of rival religions from non-athletic cultures, will there be an athletic death or a reawakening?

There is one thing that America has that Rome did not, a thing borrowed from the Amerindians, a pre-athletic hunting tradition which did not exist in Post-Roman Europe for any but the elite.  In what remains of America, we possess the actual root of sports—the hunt.  We also possess a body of individual combat rites: boxing, wrestling, MMA, stick-fighting, fencing, that have actually survived 1700 years of Christian attempts to extinguish them.  Indeed, the instinct for ritual combat is so strong among people of European descent, that in Europe and America, from A.D. 1200 to today, numerous Christian leaders have promoted the ancient Indo-Aryan pagan rites in defense of their faith, from Alfred the Great in A.D. 996, to an Italian priest circa A.D. 1200, to a “boxing” U.S. Navy chaplain in the 1890s, down to Christian men I train today, among those who accept the metaphysics of the Near East, there are men who reject the disdain for physicality that emerged ages ago from those ancient, decadent lands and continue to uphold their ancestral ways.

In the end, what is most important about masculine ritual is the sustaining of direct actionist honor, not the proxy honor of accumulation, agreement, appeasement and soft sympathy, but the creation of honor from action, a man’s only timeless accomplishment.

Honor Among Men


[1]  Standing for the national anthem represents a civic-sacral element in the NFL, which the elite have moved to remove.

[2]  Preview for Rollerball

[3]  Intercollegiate football in America.

[4]  The origin of professional football can be traced back to 1892, with William "Pudge" Heffelfinger's $500 contract to play in a game for the Allegheny Athletic Association against the Pittsburgh Athletic Club.  In 1920 the American Professional Football Association was formed.

[5]  The Byzantine Empire

[6]  Septimius Severus

(c)  2017 James LaFond

Wednesday, December 20, 2017

Vacation Picture

James has been on a posting break for the end of the year, but his son was kind enough to send me this picture of James relaxing in luxury accommodations:

What happened here?  Did James finally go pro as a boxer?  Did he and Big Ron get waylaid after a night of drinking?  Was it the hoodrats at a bus stop?  What does the other guy look like?  If my reading of Winter of a Fighting Life (Kindle & paperback) is correct (Q&A with author), this is James' first officially broken nose.

If you think you can explain what happened here, please do so in the comments.  Whoever comes closest to the truth will receive the book of their choice in pdf.

(c) 2017 Lynn Lockhart

Tuesday, December 19, 2017

Gargantuan Giant of Manhood - Crackpot Podcast Ep 20

James LaFond and Lynn Lockhart discuss James' writing and posting break.  James describes an 18th century painting and reads from the foreword of Tribes.

In a short break from James' year-end seclusion, we hear about writing progress and more.

The Crackpot Podcast features prolific author and urban survival expert and Crackpot James LaFond, and his unpaid intern, the mysterious Lynn Lockhart.

Portrait of Guy Johnson by Benjamin West



00:45  James' year-end writing seclusion
03:45  Thunderbird is complete, awaiting editing (the podcast girl edits too)
05:10  What does myopic mean in the literary sense
08:34  Any anarchotyrrany update?
13:20  Description of Indian in Benjamin West's portrait of Guy Johnson
16:28  Reading from the foreword of Tribes, unpublished book by James LaFond

Sunday, December 17, 2017

‘Instruments of Awakening’

Two Heroisms by Julius Evola, 20 November 1939

Evola casts aside the modernist argument that we are nothing but instinct and intellect.  He also rejects the Semitic [and hence Judeo-Christian-Islamic] view of a man as inherently corrupt, and sinful, with the human body a seat of evil which must be escaped and transcended.  He offers instead the ancient Aryan view that the body is the root of the transcendent tree, that the physicality of the flesh is the springboard which might propel man beyond instinct, beyond cunning, beyond ethics, into a state of “super-racial” being.

Rather than conniving, collectivizing and submitting, the heroic vision of “two heroisms” places the hero in the ascent, gives the opportunity of protean rather than submissive sacrifice, a means by which each hero who manages to pierce the higher reality not only transcends the sorrowful life of the body but elevates those aspects of the super-organism he is a part of—members of his race—as an extra-collective entity.

Evola postulates [and this interpreter disagrees with] the notion that totemic, animistic races of men, hunters and gatherers, are degenerate, fallen races—though still superior to the materialistic civilized collectives of the materialistic world.  This notion brings us to a third possibility as to the states of man.

The Semitic notion is that man is a deliberate creation of God, a domesticated creature of “The Garden” and that there was no elevation from the totemic to the domestic, but rather a fall from the domestic, as put forth in Genesis.  This same state of God-shaped domestication is at the right hand of the Gilgamesh-Enkidu myth, known as the Epic of Gilgamesh, in which man is a domestic creation of the gods, who seeks to attain godhood and is cursed to mortality.

The other notion, long-held by secularists and tribal peoples alike, is the left-handed aspect of that same legend, that of Enkidu, who was likewise god-made, but emerged himself from animal form toward enlightenment and eventual misery and death.

What Evola proposes is a combination of the The Fall myth and the Totemic, in that Man has fallen from a higher plane—not out of an earthly garden of enslavement—but from a heavenly, godlike state into enslavement and animism, that the man bound to the animal world through the shamanic traditions has retreated from the higher plane of life, just as the civilized materialist has been chained and barred from attaining the higher plane.

Evola has no more time for notions of man evolving along Darwinian lines from weasel to ape to man than any of the other spiritual traditions, be they animistic, submissive or transformative.   He reminds that the physical form and instincts of man, his capacity to battle his condition, arms him with the ability to surpass Gilgamesh and attain a higher state:

“…according to the usual mendacious theory of the inferior giving rise to the superior…”

Evola postulates “…a race of the spirit behind the race of body and blood in which the latter expresses the former in a more or less perfect manner according to the circumstances individuals, and often castes in which the race is articulated.”

“…often modern man has lost both the steadiness of instinct of the ‘races of nature’ and the superiority and metaphysical tension of the ‘super-race…’”

Evola clearly rates the animistic, totemic races as superior to the collectivistic, submissive races of modernity, but declares them degenerate nonetheless, while leaving open the possibility that members of either degenerate state might reanimate and become transcendent.

He has the knives out for the materialistic creature of civilization:

“…the ‘race of the bourgeois,’ of the petty conformist and right-thinking man, the ‘advanced’ spirit who invents a superiority for himself on the base of rhetoric, empty speculations and exquisite aestheticisms; the pacifist, the social climber, the neutralist humanitarian, all this half-extinguished material of which so significant a part of the modern world is made up, is actually a product of racial degeneration, the expression of the deep crisis of the Man of the West, all the more tragic as it is not even felt as such.”

So Evola presents modern man as one who has degenerated rather than fallen and primitive man as one who has retreated from the process of degeneration into a probable dead-end.

He recommends war as a possible vetting process for ascendant souls and sights Erich Maria Remarque’s All Quiet on the Western Front as an example of the fruitlessness of sending the wrong human material into war and the defeatism that must ensue, when the deluded materialist is cast into that crucible. The man thrown into war from the modern sheep pen is only able to deal effectively with his situation as a beast [totemically, like the modern sniper] or as a hero [transcendently, like Ernst Junger].

“…the lion can arise from the sheep…Man reawakens and resumes contact with the deep forces of life and race from which he has become alienated…”

This is the function of war, in Evola’s understanding, it is “the amputation of the bourgeois excrescence…”

In other words, traumatic hardship in which dynamic agency is invited on the part of the male, might offer a propulsion into manhood and out of domesticity.

“Such culminations of heroic experience…demand the all aspects of war that have an ‘elemental’ destructive, we could almost say tulluric character…”

Evola goes on to describe the rejection of this by the materialist, modern, collective, petty ‘individual’ as a barring of the domesticated person from an opportunity to experience “inner triumphs.”

The two heroisms refer to a two-part awakening, first of the bestial aspect of the human, and second the of the heroic, the animal inside of us awakening to break the chains of our mental enslavement, freeing the submerged Higher Self to reengage with our consciousness to transcend the mechanistic barriers of the materialistic order of fearful docility and doleful complicity.

(c) 2017 James LaFond

Tuesday, December 12, 2017

Attention Commenter VV

Back in August, James was posting often on Big Ron, and as I have been reading through that material and preparing it for publication, I came across this comment on this post from VV:


August 7, 2017 4:59 PM UTC
James I have comunicated to you before, invited you down SOCO(southern AACo) for some crab cakes(let me know any time!). I did A LOT of roofing work in and around Bmore, did the roof on Main PO on East Fayette, had 15-20 TOPS guys there some days. The towers were still there. Man I’ve seen some shit. I knew that guy and the guy Wayne referenced, I bet I was on a couple of their jobs and walked right by Ron. Mike was def a shit talker, but he was pretty good on the boss mans jobs, I won’t mention his Co. as they are still around.

VV, James has no way of getting in touch with you and collecting those crab cakes!  If you are still interested, please email me at lynnlockhart328  @   gmail   .   com      Just remove the spaces.


Thursday, December 7, 2017

To Avenge the People - Crackpot Podcast

The Crackpot Podcast - Episode 19:  To Avenge the People

In Episode 19 of the Crackpot Podcast, Lynn and James discuss Gropey Joe Biden, monarchism in the alt-right and James shares his experience of Grandparent's Day at his grandson's elementary school.

James and Lynn discuss the prevalence of sexual criminals among our ruling class, in-group and out-group violence, defense of men and women during war between North American Indians and English settlers.  James compares feudal traditions in England and Japan and discusses the difference between a tribal chief and a political figure.  He concludes with a description of a day in a suburban Baltimore elementary school.

The Crackpot Podcast features prolific writer James LaFond and Lynn Lockhart. 

0:00:45  Joe Biden & the protective instinct
0:10:25  Are most politicians pedophiles?  Other sexual predators.
0:22:55  Monarchists in the alt-right
0:26:40  Defense of women and children in war, in-group violence vs. out-group violence
0:30:10  British culture
0:35:05  The English attempted to extend their feudal organization in North America
0:36:30  James reads from Chiksika and discusses the persistence of North American tribes
0:43:30  Modern monarchs vs. chiefs and kings in a primal setting
0:44:46  He is supposed to avenge the people.
0:47:15  George Washington was a cross between Reagan and Clinton
0:48:15  UCLA Basketball players rescued from China by Trump
0:49:30  Singapore caning
0:51:15  Baltimore violence update (taped right after Det. Suiter was killed)
0:54:15  OD in a cop bar, opioid crisis
1:00:30  To discuss monarchy in a future episode from spiritual perspective
1:00:49  Description of Grandparent's Day in a first grade class in suburban Baltimore

Wednesday, December 6, 2017

Best Laid Plans

A Rail Adventure by Tony Cox

Make it to New Orleans in time for Halloween. 

A simple enough goal and nearly five months to get there. Me and Filthy Erek had it all planned out. We both started out as homeless teens around the same time, and were always looking for an adventure. We worked day labor together almost everyday, and even shared a tent together, saving what money we could for the trip. Our hidden campsite really was quite enviable. You had to crawl through thick blackberry bushes for fifty feet before you came to a nice flat, grassy clearing. We built a fire pit, had camp chairs, and kept our little sanctuary clean. The only rule we had was keeping the place secret. We learned the hard way that when you don't keep your place secret, it soon gets overrun with masturbating tweakers and other freeloading scum.

Portland was the best place to hop a train out of. We heard rumors that you could ride public transit all the way from Seattle to Portland, so we gave it a shot, mostly just to see if it could be done. Seattle to Tacoma to Olympia to Centralia to Longview to Vancouver, and finally the last bus over the state line from the 'Couve to Portland, Oregon. We made the trip for around $5 each, if I remember right.

Portland, Oregon

Memorial Day in Portland means the Rose Festival. I'd never seen anything like it. It was as if every bum, misfit, gutterpunk, and freak all converged on downtown and declared it their own sovereign nation. These days the annual Rose Fest has become quite tame by comparison.

It's not hard to spot who the train hopping kids are. They are downtown in every big city, dressed mostly in black, usually wearing dirty, patched Carhartt work clothes. They have large packs, and sit on sidewalks and harass people for spare change to support their drinking habits. I never wore that uniform, or asked anyone for shit. We met a group of them to gather intel about the do's and don'ts of New Orleans.

A short, slim fellow by the name of Eyeball said that anyone looking like a vagrant during Halloween or Mardi Gras would be arrested on sight and kept locked up until the festivities were over, whereupon they are made to clean up the streets. He recommended we find a friendly local willing to store our packs in their house to avoid arrest. "I was wearing my pack, and eating a McDonald's cheeseburger. When the cop saw me throw the pickles in a trash can. I was arrested for 'molesting a pickle', and sent to the parish prison. Down there, they got lifers doing time in the parish prison, basically their version of a county jail. You get arrested and then thrown in a cell with lifers and guys doing hard time. You wear your own shoes, too. If you're white and weak, they'll take your shoes and all your meals. It's hardcore. I picked up trash for two weeks before they let me go," Eyeball said.

Stockton, California

We left Portland and rode the rails to Stockton. The train was moving through town when we jumped off that night; we were out of water. A man in a new looking BMW saw us jumping off, and stops to ask us if we need anything. I was thinking he was a faggot at first, but soon changed my mind. We told him we're ok, but he insists. He peels off $200, gives us each a bill, then tells us he'll drive us to the other side of town, as downtown Stockton is a dangerous place after dark, full of violent gangs.

He introduced himself and tells us his name is Springfield. He was a large black man with a shaved head and friendly demeanor. He told us his father was a preacher, and full on hustler. In fact, the BMW was a result of one his own side hustles he learned from Dad. "I just call folks up from the phone book, tell them I'm with the church, and ask if they have any old vehicles they'd like to donate for charity. It's like taking candy from a baby." We thanked him, and on our way out of the car, he handed us a small bag of crystal meth. "Remember what I said about downtown. Stay away, and peace, brothers!" What a guy!

Oakland, California

Next stop was Oakland. As soon as we were out of the rail yard, I immediately thought of filling up on water again. I saw an old lady, maybe 70, and politely asked if she knew where a drinking fountain was. "Don't be asking me for shit! We ain't got no motherfuckin' water for your white ass!" she replied. Welcome to Oakland.

We rode the BART train to San Francisco, just to have a look around. While there, some gutterpunks invite us to stay the night in their squat. When we arrived at the house, we were surprised to see it is painted black. We soon learned that this place is called the "Church of Satan" squat for a reason. Trap doors, hidden rooms, and old lion shit in the basement. Everyone else claimed to feel evil, forbidding energy in the basement, but I found the place to be warm and inviting, besides the lion shit. We only stayed for one night. I am sure that Anton LaVey was rolling in his grave, cursing all the kids who defiled his home.

Erek and I decided to work for a few days, and found a day labor spot out of town. On our way to the day labor place, we were both quite amused to walk past a store advertising 'Liquor and Guns.' They even had a drive thru window. We worked a few days, then headed back to Oakland to catch another train.

End of the Line

That satanic curse must have worked, because I never made it past San Antonio. While buying some beer and snacks at a convenience store, I was asked by a drunk Mexican if I liked the pink hat he was wearing. Next thing you know, we were duking it out in the parking lot, and I noticed he had four other guys with him. There was no doubt Erek would have my back, he had been an all-state wrestler before he left school, always ready for a scrap, but we were outnumbered. It stayed one on one, but I knew that I had to keep it a stalemate. This fight went on FOREVER. The guys behind the counter at the store even locked the doors so they could come outside to watch, and place bets on who would win. After a very long and tiring fight, my opponent's woman started yelling, "Come on Chuy! We got dope and guns in the fucking car! Let's go before the cops show up!" He retreated with a warning, "Don't EVER let me see you here AGAIN!" Yeah, whatever. We still had our beer and snacks, and no sooner had he left, did the police show up and put the bracelets on me. I got out a week later, but Erek was already gone. He ended up staying on the road for three more years. He saw the whole damn country from a boxcar. For a year after that, he lived as an illegal immigrant in Toronto, working under the table as a roofer.

Our simple plan never came to be. Like Mike Tyson said, everyone has a plan 'til they get punched in the mouth.

(c) 2017 Tony Cox

Masculine Axis by James LaFond

A Meditation on Manhood and Heroism

James LaFond writes about masculinity with the assurance of a man who knows what he is about. Only by understanding and practicing masculinity, through literature, at work, with their mates and family members, in combat, sports and in fellowship with other men, may the men of our sick society preserve their property, families, cultural patrimony and their own souls.

Available in paperback and Kindle edition.

Sunday, December 3, 2017

Lockhart's Top LaFonds Volume 5

Lynn's picks from for the week of November 27:

Interesting developments and context on the murder of Detective Suiter.

Running for the bus in Baltimore, through the years.

James is correct about the minimum wage.  And he didn't even have to wrack up six figures in student loans to figure it out.

To a dedicated drug dealer, an overdose is an advertising opportunity.

A follow up from Eirik Bloodaxe on fighting with a staff.

An op-ed piece from the Checkered Demon on the Alabama Senatorial special election, when has politics been more entertaining?

James signs off for the year, we wish him very well.

(c) 2017 Lynn Lockhart

Friday, December 1, 2017

Wear No Halo

On the departure of an old friend, by Tony Cox

"If they don't pull those tubes out of him soon, I'll do it myself," I whisper to my old friend.  It was hard seeing Keno that way.   He'd been in a coma for 22 days.  The small room at the trauma center was filled with "nice" white people, much crying and gnashing of teeth.  "Who the fuck are these people?" I ask.   "Some guy who used to date his mom before she died, long time ago.  These are all this guy's church people," says my old crazy friend.  Wait.  Now I recognize that dude.  He was just another crack head, is how I remember him.  I guess some people have to attach themselves to a tragedy, like vultures, for their own self-serving reasons.  Polish up their good-guy badges, maybe get some sympathy for themselves out of it while they're at it.

Two teenage girls are crying at his bedside.   I am 100% positive they've never even met the person they're crying for.  One of them asks the doctor, "Will he be able to breathe for himself when the tubes come out?"

I interrupt them and say, "I bet if you put a weed pipe in his mouth he'd hit it."   My old friend smiles, and almost laughs.  The church people ignore me.   "What can we do to wake him up?" the other crying girl sobs to the doctor.   I elbow my old friend, and say "Did they even TRY sucking his dick yet?"  He finally allows himself a laugh.

Long winded prayers are said, scripture is read aloud, these fools actually believe in their promised land.  They're even praying for the drunken drag queen who fled the scene, after plowing into him at 70mph while he fixed his flat tire.  How Christ-like of them.  These treacherous god-heads sicken me.

I'm asked if I would like to say anything. I would.

"You were a true warrior.  Always ready to throw down, never ran away, never bowed to any man or god.  Fuck this world."  I walked into the hallway while they pulled out the tubes that animated his corpse.  This was 10:32am on November 27th.

I hope I'm killed before I die.  That's all we can really ask for, isn't it?

For more about Keno, see the following:

Pray for Keno
The Angel

(c) 2017 Tony Rooster

Thursday, November 30, 2017

John Paul Slugger

A Day on the Job for a Young Entreprenuer 

Even before I was of legal age to drink, alcohol has always been my drug of choice.  I learned a valuable lesson early on not to mix it with prescription medication.

By the time I was 17 or 18 years old I was well on my way to turning my liver so black it could've impregnated half the neighborhood and denied all responsibility.  Me and my friends would start drinking beer not long after we woke up, ride four wheelers in the woods all day, and keep drinking on up into the night.

One of my friends, David was the only one in our group who didn't drink.  He was a pothead and also my chauffeur.  David would drive me around to various locations throughout the day and night, taking me wherever I needed to meet up with my customers who purchased my wares.  David's father was a former pot dealer who'd fallen from prominence and was also certifiably crazy.  He always kept a full bottle of Xanax in his pocket to help him get through his anxiety attacks.

For those who don't know, Xanax is an anti-anxiety medication that calms you down and keeps you from worrying so much.  But it doesn't really work like that if you don't have anxiety issues and you mix it with a 12-pack of Miller High Life.  This combination basically makes you not have a care in the world and you fear absolutely nothing.

One afternoon, I was with David and his cousin Willie.  David was driving a new car I'd just bought and of course, I was already drinking.  We rode out to David's house to see his old man.  While we were there, I got the bright idea to talk David's daddy into giving me a couple of his Xanax pills.  Big mistake.

About an hour later we went back toward town and stopped at this old country store to get gas.  David was pumping gas (yeah, that was part of my chauffeur's job) and I got out and walked toward the store to take a leak.  As I was walking in the store I looked out through the parking lot toward the pay phone and there was a guy sitting in a silver Chevette in front of the phone.  I thought my eyes were deceiving me at first, but once I focused a little harder I realized this guy was smoking crack out of an aluminum can.  In the middle of the day, in a public parking lot!

Due to the Xanax impairing my judgment, I thought to myself "Hey, I'm gonna go over there and see if he wants to buy some more!"  So, like a total dumbass, I did.  I walked up beside his window and knocked.  He was right in the middle of taking a hit off that can and I scared the shit out of him.

After assuring him through the window that I wasn't a cop, he finally rolled it down so I could talk to him.  I said "Hey buddy, I see what you're doing over here.  I was wondering if you needed any more.  I got it if you do."  I pulled out a pill bottle full of crack rocks and shook it in front of his face.  His eyes got real big and through his crack-induced locked jaw he replied "Yeah, man."

He ended up buying $50 worth, if I recall correctly.  Then he tells me he's got this friend in town who'd be interested in buying some more.  Once again, my impaired judgment and disregard for consequences got the better of me so I said "Yeah, we'll follow you to town."

We followed him to a part of town which is right on the line of where the White trash live and brown town begins.  I had a rule that I never sold to blacks so that should've been a warning sign to me.  But I couldn't have cared less that day due to the state of mind I was in.  We pulled into a parking lot in front of this old house.  The crackhead in the Chevette gets out and comes over to my window, and says "My friend in that house wants $100 worth.  Give it to me and I'll take it in and bring your money back."  As pickled as my brain was at the time, I still had enough sense not to fall for that old crackhead scam.  So I tell this guy "Hell no, I'll give you a $20 rock, let your buddy sample it, then you come back out with the $100 and I'll give you the rest of it."  He agreed, I gave him the rock, and he walked across the street and went in the house.

David and Willie were in the front seat and I was in the back.  We sat there in that parking lot for a pretty long time until finally this crackhead comes out with an enormous buck of a negro who was about the size of Kamala The Ugandan Giant.  This silverback comes right up to my car and just starts cursing and threatening us out of the blue.  What he was actually doing was creating a diversion so the other crackhead could jump in his Chevette and take off without paying me.

I quickly realized what was going on so I said "David, let's get the hell out of here.  This motherfucker's trying to take off and shit me!"  I mentioned earlier that this was a new car we were in.  This was actually the first time David had driven that car and he had trouble putting it in reverse.  It had a manual transmission and you had to pull this ring up on the gearshift to get it to go in reverse.  That delayed our exit and allowed the crackhead in the Chevette to get a head start on us.

If I hadn't taken those Xanax I probably would've just laughed about it and let it go.  I was only out $20, which was worth the price of the shitshow we'd already witnessed.  But since I wasn't my normal self that day, I was ready to annihilate this bastard over a few measly bucks.  We finally got out of that parking lot while almost running over Kamala in the process.  We headed in the direction of the Chevette but he was already out of sight.

This is a small town.  There weren't too many places he could've went, so we headed toward the major highway that goes through town.  The whole time we're looking for this guy I'm stroking a miniature baseball bat that my granddaddy made for me on his wood lathe when I was a kid.  He'd engraved "John Paul Slugger" on it with a woodburning tool.  It was probably 2 1/2 ft long and a couple inches in diameter at the top of the bat.  I always kept it in my car as a quick weapon to grab in case I ran into some trouble.

So we get out on to the main highway and that's when I see the silver Chevette in the distance.  And what do you know, the traffic light is turning red and it's stopping.  As an added bonus, it was about 4:30 pm when all this was going on and the silver Chevette was stopping at the light in front of the office where my mama worked.

As David stopped several cars behind the Chevette, I jumped out of the backseat with John Paul Slugger and headed toward the car.  I'm not exactly sure what my plan was, but the first thing I was going to do was bust his windshield out.  I ran up beside the Chevette, raised the bat in the air as if I were wielding Conan's sword, and stopped myself at the last second as I looked down through the windshield.  Sitting in the front seat wasn't a disheveled crackhead with a stringy mullet, it was two old ladies! 

I'd found the wrong silver Chevette.

The look of fear in those two old women's eyes is something that will live in my mind until the day I depart from this Earth.  I was mortified that I'd almost committed this act of violence against a couple of old hens who probably would've croaked from a heart attack if I'd followed through with my swing.  I quickly outstretched my palm toward them and said "I'm so sorry, I thought you were someone else!"

Then I ran back to my car and told David to hook a u-ey and head farther up the mountain.  We ended up getting a room at a ski resort and stayed gone for a couple days just in case Johnny Law was looking for us.

I haven't taken a Xanax since.

(c) 2017 John Paul Barber

Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Honor and Sportsmanship - The Crackpot Podcast Ep 18

James LaFond and Lynn Lockhart discuss traditions of ethics, honor and sportsmanship.

James explains how sportsmanship is a substitute for the honor system of a warrior, and how even sportsmanship is degraded in the modern world.

The Crackpot Podcast features prolific author and urban survival expert James LaFond, and Lynn Lockhart.

Photo courtesy of Documenting the American South, University of North Carolina


0:00:45 Illustration of Seminole King from Bartram's Travels Through North & South Carolina
0:02:40 Quote from Evola, "honeyed universal love"
0:05:15 Honor and sportsmanship
0:08:50 Joseph Campbell's lectures
0:12:10 Upper & lower classes vs merchant class
0:16:20 Protestantism abandons mysticism and brings God to the bank
0:17:33 "The Fancy" as described in Pierce Egan's Boxiana
0:18:30 Is sportsmanship an Anglo-Saxon cultural trait?
0:24:15 Gorilla Wall Paul
0:26:45 Deception in sports and war
0:28:00 Illusion of an American in-group, anarchotyrrany, a sector of society is at war with all others
0:31:25 Pseudonyms
0:41:55 Texas church shooting, gun control
0:43:15 Local reporting on crime in Baltimore improving?
0:47:20 The slave instinct
0:50:05 Materialism in the late Hellenistic period
0:50:55 Atheism vs. spiritualism in civilization
0:55:35 Plagues?
0:56:20 Current events from 2 weeks ago, Trump's remarks on Japan's martial culture
1:00:30 Veterans of WWII vs. Veterans of the Middle Eastern wars of the 21st century
1:04:20 American culture and the impact to other cultures
1:07:25 Christianity vs Materialism in America
1:12:00 Reverent Chandler
1:12:15 Election night 2016 YouTube Meltdown playlist

(c) 2017 Lynn Lockhart

The Pale Usher by James LaFond

Impressions of Moby Dick: Herman Melville and Modern Man?s Transcendental Journey

In The Pale Usher, the author, masculinity historian James LaFond, examines the text and subtext of the 25-chapter overture to Moby Dick as an allegory of Civilized Man’s awakening to his socially submerged self—a primal quest within the domesticated human in search of his authentic self. In this work, the author goes on to examine the works of such authors as Robinson Jeffers, J. R. R. Tolkien, Clark Ashton Smith, Thomas Ligotti, Dan Simmons, Bram Stoker, Ambrose Bierce, Phillip K. Dick, Carl Jung, Robert Bloch and H.P. Lovecraft.

Sunday, November 26, 2017

Lockhart's Top LaFonds Volume 4

Lynn's picks for the week of November 20:

A new way of buying books from Jerk House Books.

Baruch tells us about some lesser known dog breeds, recommended for guard dogs in harsh terrain.

James writes condemns himself a coward with a truly rare degree of self-reflection in a piece from 2013.

Thorfinn Odinson Skullsplitter asks Why Do Art

Calhoun's mice and the fate of civilization.

The Checkered Demon settles for some elbow room and wild turkeys.

Ruben Chandler shares a bitter memory triggered by a song.

Travel tips from Tony Rooster.

Good wishes from Mockingbird as James heads for retirement from the Ghetto Grocer business.

I don't care what James says, he is not white trash, and by the way, the King of New York doesn't like that term.

I don't care what anyone says, James is The Last Whiteman in Baltimore.

I think you are going to like this Thunderbird story.  Read the latest chapter and get caught up!

The Sea Daddy writes a quiet warning, but I don't think the toffs understand how near they are.

James gives a primer on fighting with a staff.

(c) 2017 Lynn Lockhart

Thursday, November 23, 2017

Anarchotyranny Update - The Crackpot Podcast

The Crackpot Podcast, Special Episode 17

James LaFond describes the scene in Baltimore after the daylight execution of a police detective.

After a police detective was shot on Nov 15 and died of his wounds the following day, law enforcement activity in Baltimore has taken on a new tone and purpose.  James LaFond predicts this event will be an important marker in Baltimore's history, on par with the Freddie Gray riots of Spring 2015.

Happy Thanksgiving!



The Crackpot Podcast features prolific author and urban survival expert James LaFond, and Lynn Lockhart.

(c) 2017 Lynn Lockhart & James LaFond

Sunday, November 19, 2017

Lockhart's Top LaFonds Volume 3

Lynn's favorite articles from for the week of November 13:

A friend of Tony Rooster's is a Wild Indian.

A friend of the Checkered Demon enjoys a benevolent beating by an old, treacherous lover.

James tells of the time he took possession of a gladiator on a handshake.

What does it mean to be a racist according to Evola's classifications?

Harm City comes to the suburbs and gives James a chance to coach his son in Dindu Wrangling.

Jeremy Bentham gives good advice along with the Radio Free Dindustan police blotter in Get Off my Lawn!

Parody is not possible in a world where trees can be racist, a baffling piece from Fred Beare.

Fred Beare's neighbors did him a big favor and invited a bunch of lowlifes over for a party.

The Murderbowl Sweepstakes 2017 has begun.  Pick a number, any number, and enter to win a digital book for your electron library.

Tony Rooster enforces civility outside the bounds of civilization.

James and Jeremy discuss the escalating violence and tensions between police, residents and gangs in Baltimore, marked by the daylight execution of a police detective.

Tony Cox makes a fine fiction debut.

Get in at the start of a new fiction book: Thunderbird.

Friday, November 17, 2017

Coed Sports & Severed Heads - The Crackpot Podcast Ep 16

Episode 16 of the Crackpot Podcast with LaFond & Lockhart brings you discussions of professional sports, domestic violence, insects and the slave instinct, totally unsubstantiated speculation on the Las Vegas shooting, child rearing, description of 19th century art and more.

Please note that if you subscribe to RSS, you should now be getting the podcast delivered to your device automatically, as we are hosting the mp3 at Archive rather than on Google Drive.

Audio only:

00:02:30  Quote from Seneca
00:04:13  The importance of the physical world
00:05:15  Darwin and the slave instinct
00:07:02  Specialization is for insects
00:11:10  Evola
00:12:20  At first James thought Lynn was a dude
00:16:20  Queens more likely to go to war than kings historically
00:20:25  Sports as a spectator vs a participant
00:27:25  College sports
00:31:05  NFL, Ray Rice
00:35:25  Coed sports in ancient Greece
00:38:40  Origins of ball sports
00:39:45  Lacrosse
00:43:00  The importance of tool use for women's self defense
00:46:50  Preschool
00:50:06  Las Vegas update
01:01:30  Self censorship
01:03:31  Today's art, by Baroness Hyde de Neuville an 1821 sketch of a war dance for President Monroe, as seen in American Heritage Book of the Presidents and Famous Americans, Vol. 2.
01:16:50  Update on James' coaching and training availability.
01:23:50  Current events from two weeks ago

(c) 2017 Lynn Lockhart

Thursday, November 16, 2017

My Old Man

Making the Most of Your Years and Your Descendants

As men of action transition into the third stage of their lives, they may struggle with loss of physical strength and earning power.  John Paul Barber reminds us that the elder season of a man's life has a great value, far beyond the strength of his back or the memory of his largest tax return.

James' relationship with his old man [from Episode 15] is a lot like mine. Daddy grew up extremely poor and was raised by his grandparents. He's only 64 and most of his childhood was spent without electricity or running water. He never learned how to swim. I actually taught him how to ride a bicycle when he was about 40. His grandparents couldn't ever afford to buy him one. So once he was old enough, his life revolved around earning money, just like James' daddy. He was always working so he never spent a lot of time with me. That's why I was so close to my Granddaddy (Mama's Daddy). He was the one who took me fishing and did stuff with me when I was a kid.

Now that I'm older, me and my old man have gotten closer. He literally knows how to fix just about anything. Since I'm a homeowner, all that knowledge he has comes in handy and we've worked on quite a few projects together. I've learned more from him in the last ten years than I did the first 30 years of my life. I just wish he didn't fart so much while we're working on these projects.

(c) 2017 Lynn Lockhart & John Paul Barber

Saturday, November 11, 2017

Lockhart's Top LaFonds Volume 2

Here are links to my favorite content from for the week of November 5:

Professor X clues us in that North American Indians were not all peace pipe smoking hippies in Injuns.

As a general rule, my favorite fiction entry from James is any fiction entry, and this week we got the latest piece for Beyond the Pale (tag link), a fantasy based on the Catholic doctrine of the Eucharist.

James reports another strange, midnight commute in I'm Gettin' Kinda' Nervous.

Robert E. Howard readers will appreciate James' impressions of Howard's poetry in The Warning Fires.

Scenes from the zombie apocalypse, as reported by a young lady in the field.

Butch provides good automotive advice, with an assist from Tony Rooster.  Hey Butch, I used to drive a sweet 5-speed Ford Escort ZX-2 but had to trade it in for my Momry.

The Checkered Demon gives an Ecclesiastian rumination in Dominoes.

Tony Rooster tells some of his experiences with drugs, the bad and the not so bad.

It turns out that the Khan makes a chaste confidant for a young woman and a fine "Uncle Beast" for a lucky toddler.

Beauty is to be admired for its own sake, and to be the subject of the male gaze is not always to be prey.

James continues to bring Evola to you, seeking to understand the warrior's rejection of modern comforts and embrace of honor.

(c) 2017 Lynn Lockhart

Friday, November 10, 2017

Does Boxing Cause Brain Damage? The Crackpot Podcast Ep 15

James LaFond & Lynn Lockhart talk about brain trauma in sports, self-defense skills for your children, and learn about James' family life.

Audio only:

Also note that ever Helpful Timbo has created an album for us at Archive, so you can find all our podcasts there for download, and even try your hand at the RSS feed built in there:

The Crackpot Podcast Archive

00:02:08  We learn about James' father and family
00:12:30  Drive to upgrade into suburbia, dual income households
00:13:08  James' large step-family
00:15:44  My son's here, just call his name
00:17:33  A real woman
00:17:50  Move to Baltimore
00:18:20  What does James like to eat?
00:19:03  Sisters
00:22:42  Child rearing -- Daddy's Girl
00:28:00  The importance of driving for women
00:34:20  Rwanda Rousey video
00:36:54  Ball sports for women, soccer is damaging women's knees
00:40:10  Boxing
00:42:40  Skill set vs. basic physical ability
00:44:00  The truth about martial arts
00:45:30  Tactical awareness
00:48:36  The changing predation environment
00:51:21  Matt Yglesias
00:52:39  Domestication
00:55:35  James the White supremacist (he's not)
00:57:30  James' criteria for defending victims of crime
01:00:14  Boxing, stick fighting and brain trauma
01:02:00  Marvin Hagler's highlight reel

(c) 2017 Lynn Lockhart & James LaFond

The Lies That Bind Us by James LaFond

The Foundational Falsehoods of the American Dream

The Lies that Bind Us is an open-ended exploration of the ingeniously layered falsehoods that misinform the moral foundations of the Greatest Lie Ever Told, how we came to the brink of the abyss and the many slain truths that might have been.

Available in paperback and Kindle edition.

Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Ricky, Satan, and Marilyn

A Letter from an Appalachian Jail:  The Culture Clash

It was an excruciatingly hot day in July of 1997 so tensions were already high in an overcrowded county jail with no air conditioning. This jail was built in the early 20th century before federal and state guidelines mandated certain living standards for inmates. In a seven-bed bullpen, there'd usually be sixteen men crammed into this 15x30 foot space. Not exactly a conducive environment for minding your own business.

Somehow I wound up with a fairly recent copy of Rolling Stone magazine. When I finished with it I handed it to one of my cellmates and said "Here you go Satan, they've got a pretty long interview in here with your hero, Marilyn Manson."

I never knew what Satan's real name was. I gave him that name because he truly looked demonic. Satan was a pale, six foot tall, skinny-fat middleweight with long, stringy, platinum blonde hair that hung halfway down his back. He had close-set, beady eyes, a pointed nose, was missing a front tooth, and had pentagrams and snakes tattooed up and down his arms. He was all into that shock rock garbage that was popular with the youth in the late 90s, so I figured he'd want to read the Marilyn Manson article.

Sitting beside Satan at the stainless steel eating table we all shared was a guy named Ricky Barnwell. I'd known Ricky about all my life. He was a half-raised, mouthy piece of shit in Kindergarten and by the time I was reunited with him in jail as a young adult, he'd fully lived up to the expectations I'd had for him. Ricky was about a 5'10" welterweight with the typical wiry body of a crackhead who'd sculpted a fairly decent physique from foraging for whatever scraps he could pillage from honest, hard working people. Although it was the late 90s, Ricky was still sporting a pretty impressive mullet and despite being in jail for several months, he still had a tan. This was undoubtedly caused by the fact that he'd been smoking cigarettes since he was seven years old and his alcoholic mother threw him out of the house to live outdoors every chance she got.

Satan got about halfway through the Marilyn Manson article and said "Huh-huh, cool, Marilyn says he's gonna have one boob surgically implanted in the middle of his chest. That'd be awesome!"

I looked over at Ricky and he suddenly got this disgusted look on his face and said to Satan "How bout I surgically implant my nuts to your chin you sick, freak faggot motherfucker!"

Trouble had already been brewing for a few weeks with Satan and Ricky because there was such a culture clash between them. Ricky was your standard redneck crackhead and Satan was part of this new mutated breed of outcasts.

Ricky's insult was the last straw for Satan. He'd had enough. Satan immediately jumped up and went after Ricky. They locked in a clinch with Satan grabbing Ricky's throat with one hand and his mullet with the other hand. In response, Ricky also grabbed ahold of Satan's throat and his long blond mane. They wrestled around for what seemed like an eternity without a single clean punch being thrown. Both men finally gassed out from exhaustion. The worst battle wound was a scratch on Satan's neck. It was the most pathetic fight I've ever seen in my life as far as action goes, but the buildup was one of the funniest things I've ever witnessed.

So if you ever see a long haired freak and a mulleted crackhead start to fight, just save yourself some agony and go home and listen to a David Allan Coe record or something...

(c) 2017 John Paul Barber

Monday, November 6, 2017

The Tribal Instinct

And the Path of the Taboo Man

The entire edifice of Modernity is raised upon the over-civilized assumption that tribalism is not natural, but rather an imposed state, and that left to their own degenerate devices people will not form tribes or begin developing neo-tribal associations.

Essentially, the doctrine of multiculturalism is an atheist perversion of the Christian concept of The Universal Church, a concept not proposed by Jesus but enacted by Paul [classics scholar Michael Grant, reading in the original Hebrew, Aramaic and Greek, searched the Gospels for a declaration by Jesus that his teachings were for non-Jews as well as Jews and found ZERO], which, according to Evola may have had Mithraic origins, and according to some Gnostic writers grew out of the pan-Hellenic doctrine of syncretism, cultivated in Ptolemaic Egypt.

What we have above is three competing theories at odds with Christian belief, that propose that the world at the time of Jesus was gravitating towards Universalist lines of thinking. Indeed, a fifth such Universalist trend [as I will respect the Christian argument, despite Grant’s work, since I have not seen any peer review of it] was Rome, the dominant force in the world at the time, an expansionist warrior nation designed to conquer tribal nations, erase their culture and adopt the inhabitants into the Roman cult or sell them as slaves.

In any case, what we had by the time Rome fell, was five competing visions of the world which believed in erasing tribal boundaries in favor of a universal ethos. Yet the Empire and its successor states were felled by, divided by, succeeded by and eventually devolved into tribal polities of the most ethnically militant sort.

Might this same trend be rising at the nadir of the Industrial Age?

Might the Information Age be facilitating rather than negating tribalism, with groups such as The Wolves of Vinland having propagated largely online to form solid physical neo-tribal identities?

Or might there be something even more ancient that accounts for the rise of tens of thousands federally identified gangs in the United States alone, just as the world is being driven by its masters into a cultural and genetic monocrop of human livestock?

According to the 2015 FBI National Gang Report (pdf link), "There are approximately 1.4 million active street, prison, and OMG [Outlaw Motorcycle Gang] gang members comprising more than 33,000 gangs in the United States."

300 of these are 1% Motor Cycle Clubs, essential nomad tribes.

Checkout the pictures at the link below to discover that the sexiest women are into tribally identified men.

Bikers of America

I would also count the law enforcement agencies as gangs, since they are all involved in ongoing criminal enterprises, and would be subject to the RICO statute if not allied with its enforcers.

So, just as with the fall of the ancient syncretic super-state founded by Alexander, the extra-tribal Roman super-state, Catholic Christendom and now the London-Washington D.C. global axis of nation-negating power, America, like all of these other social organism which have aspired to rise above tribalism, is being torn by internal and increasingly tribal, cultural division.

-Hellenism in the late 200s B.C.
-Roma in the late 200 A.D.
-Christendom in from Wyclif [1300] to Calvin [1564]

All of these suffered simultaneous division across ethnic lines and invasion from more tribally conscious forces.

Can we be that much different, to avoid that fate?

Should that fate be avoided or preferred?

Tribalism in Supermarkets

With all our rulers do to soak-off our tribal proclivities [and my tribal sense has always been very weak as I am a loner type] we have ever blooming tribal self-segregation in the supermarket business among staff, according to department.

Cashiers get along with everybody. They are basically the sex slaves—literally.

Front office staff snubs all except for management to whom they are beholden for getting them off the register.

The scanning department hates everybody and snubs all, including management!

The day clerks and parcel pickup guys are despised by all as the slave class.

Bakery, Produce, Deli and Seafood will associate with one another in a perimeter alliance.

The frozen and dairy clerks are loners, the frozen guy usually hated by all, like a boogieman, as he is generally selected for being antisocial and highly productive.

The receiver is literally the asshole of the store. If he shuts down everyone is in big trouble but no one is enamored with the old creep, trusted as he is by management.

The meat room sees itself as the only tradesmen in the business, above and apart from all, superior to all, higher paid, possessing an actual recognized trade skill.

How bad is this?

I work in a far more friendly store than most, with good Christian owners who refuse to cutback staff in lean times.

I have worked at this grocery store for 7 years and in that process actually do work for every other department because of the nature of refrigerated shipping. I constantly greet kindly, hold the door for and physically help people from every department.

After 7 years most of these employees refuse to acknowledge I am a human being, will look right through me, will turn away when I pick up something they dropped to hand it to them. I continue to help and be courteous to all of these folk out of respect for the people I work for. However, if we were suddenly thrust into civil unrest, I would let most of them die horribly without lifting a finger or raising note of warning. Only the night crew have I bonded with, as we have all worked together in danger, under threat from midnight shoppers and aggressive criminals.

I have been pushing this experiment lately as I exit the work place.

Meat cutters will only acknowledge me if we are alone and they are sure their fellows cannot see them speaking to a taboo night clerk. Only the department managers will speak to me—and the neediest females—although all will turn rude when around coworkers, with the sole exception of Tori, a personal goddess of mine, and Nokia—the Devil’s own succubus come to drag me to hell…

The point of this is that humans have an entire suite of little understood and even denied social instincts, such as:

-slave submission,
-slave maker,
-tribal alignment,
-racial alignment,
-gender alignment,
-age alignment,
-family alignment.

At such times the taboo man, the able outcast, the owner, may work his alliances with the leaders of various factions as I have done at work, shunned by 90 clerks and cutters and embraced either grudgingly or enthusiastically by every leader among them, as I have an extra-factional skill set and am not self-segregating by nature but able to work across social boundaries.

When I leave, meat will thaw out on the dock for want of a bakery man seeing it as his duty to keep meat under refrigeration when no meat man is in the building. Ice cream will turn to sweet milk in the stockroom for want of a grocer to identify frozen food as an area of his allegiance.

Quite literally supermarket managers exist largely to render tribalism functioning, like an ancient king forging highlanders, lowlanders and nobles into one combined arms team, which, in his absence, would become three forces unwilling to consider the battle from any vantage but their own.

Just as in the novel Lord of the Flies, by Golding, when a tribeless world of artificial make is sundered or unmasked, tribes will form as naturally as fallen leaves in autumn cluster in drifts, driven by a force [wind] quite beyond their comprehension.

Masculine Axis: A Meditation on Manhood and Heroism

(c) 2017 James LaFond

The Spirit of the Khan...

Stirs from his icy barrow mound

James has lately received signs that the Spirit of the Khan desires an audience with the listeners of the Crackpot Podcast.  I take this responsibility quite seriously and wish to prepare worthy inquiries for his Greatness with your help.  Please send me your questions by email:  lynnlockhart328[@]gmail[.]com.

For those unfamiliar with the Khan and his habit of visiting James, the Khan's main area of interest is wench management.  See the following examples:

Valkyrie vs Orcs

Wake the Khan!

What is Good Between the Bearskins

Sunday, November 5, 2017

Lockhart's Top LaFonds Volume 1

Introducing a new feature wherein I, Lynn Lockhart, direct readers to my favorite posts from James' main site.

Lynn's picks for the week of 10/29/2017:

Harm City Halloween hit me a little hard, as I have small children and have definitely told them some white lies. I did recently tell them that marijuana is something that people smoke and it makes them feel funny and act stupid, so I feel good about that.

Stick Fighting Fundamentals features some videos of James looking scary and demonstrating... you guessed it, stick fighting fundamentals.

Autopsy of a Dying RaceLet Me Hold Your Dog, and the follow up, Dealing with Dindus set the stage for Why Halloween Must Die where James explains the need for a total failure of society before brainwashed masses will be able to believe their lying eyes about violence and aggression in every day life.

In the The Ghetto Vulture Telegraph, James applies the nature impression skills he honed in White in the Savage Night to the peculiar wildlife of urban Baltimore.

Indoor Fun with a .38 Special is a truly disgusting account of creative pest control, contributed by the Checkered Demon.

Power and Age is a touching letter from James to a fellow aging fighter and athlete. 

The Victim of Humanitarian Scruples is part of James' ongoing series to examine the works of Julius Evola and deals with the spiritual aspect of war.

Friday, November 3, 2017

Repeat After Me, There is No Such Thing as a Conspiracy

Episode 14 of the Crackpot Podcast has landed in Area 51 (which we did not cover, alas), with LaFond & Lockhart.  

mp3 link for download

00:00:40 Intro to the topic from God's Own Prototype
00:02:45 Importance of conspiracy theories in African American community
00:03:40 JFK assassination
00:05:00 Assassination of Philip of Macedon
00:06:16 Las Vegas
00:07:03 Where was James when JFK was killed?  Eating peas in his high chair.
00:08:47 LBJ as the exploiter of the assassination
00:10:04 Moon landing (the reason I said "forward" then "backward" is because I was thinking of both the manned landing and the earlier missions to drop stuff off on the moon)
00:13:55 Expansionary empire vs decadent empire
00:15:40 Will China colonize the moon?
00:24:43 9/11
00:31:16 Fluoridation of tap water
00:36:03 International cosmopolitan global banking conspiracy
00:39:07 Clinton Foundation
00:40:30 Election 2016, fond memories
00:46:08 James makes a prediction that has already come true (Trump released JFK documents despite deep state pressure)
00:50:01 Seth Rich, Wikileaks, Julian Assange
00:52:03 The Filthy Few
00:54:35 Tony Rooster's convenience store boss
00:57:45 Barack Obama's birth certificate
01:00:55 Roanoke Colony book by Lee Miller
01:05:31 Justin W. R. Justice
01:08:04 T. Spoone Slickens

(c) 2017 Lynn Lockhart

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

Weed is for Degenerates

Delving deeper into the War on Drugs with John Paul Barber

Mr. Barber, please give the readers a little background of your personal experience of Uncle Sam's War on Drugs, your arrest for selling cocaine, trial, and so on.

There wasn't anything out of the ordinary about my arrest. I was set up by one of my customers who was trying to get out of some trouble he was in. I didn't go to trial, I took a plea bargain for 75 months. If I'd went to trial and lost I'd have probably gotten 15-20 years. The sentences are so stiff on the federal level, only an idiot would opt for a jury trial.

Other than a few mouthy black female prison guards, I never had any trouble or was treated unfairly by law enforcement or the federal prison system. The worst part about my incarceration was being a White minority in a majority black prison. I had to constantly be on my toes. Most blacks assume Whites won't fight back. They assumed wrong with me. I spent a significant amount of time in solitary confinement for fighting. Eventually I learned to prefer solitary over general population because I could actually relax in there. As glamorous as it looks on the big screen, playing Tarzan is no fun in real life.

I understand a close relative of yours has struggled with drug addiction. Can you tell us how this has affected your family?

Yes, I have a close relative who had a terrible problem with methamphetamine and opiates. It was an awful thing to watch and I'm 100% confident she's suffered permanent brain damage from all the abuse she put her body through. Even though she's been clean for five or six years now, she's still not the same upstairs. I actually have quite a few relatives with drug and alcohol problems. I do believe there's a genetic component to addiction but I don't think addiction is a "disease" as the medical and psychiatric community would have you believe. Some people are just born with stronger levels of will power than others. You either have a strong mind or a weak mind. Although I've experimented with drugs in my younger days I never had an addiction problem like some of my relatives who I share genetic traits with. Whenever I felt like something was getting in the way of me taking care of my responsibilities, I stopped doing it. My guilt overpowered my hedonism. If only my guilt had overpowered my greediness, I wouldn't have sold poison to my people and went to prison.

Years ago a group of researchers did a study where they put a child in a room with their favorite candy bar. They told the child they were going to leave the room and come back later. They gave the child two options: 1) The child could eat the candy bar right then or 2) The child could choose not to eat the candy bar right then and wait until the adult came back. If they hadn't eaten the candy bar, then the child would get a second candy bar. This was a test to see how well these children could delay gratification for a greater long term payoff. Then these researchers followed the children into adulthood to see what choices they made in life. Almost exclusively, the children who had the ability to delay gratification did well in school, didn't get on drugs, didn't go to jail, got good jobs, and had a higher overall quality of life. The opposite was true for almost all of the children who ate the candy bar immediately.

This study gives us a window inside the human mind and how it works. In my opinion, most people who grew up to be drug addicts would have gobbled up that candy bar before the adult had even gotten the door shut. So, are some people more genetically prone to addiction? I think yes, but there's not an "addiction" gene. Just mental weaklings.

What is your approach to child rearing with respect to drugs. Have you been open with your children about your experience and other family members' experiences?

My children are still too young to understand what drugs are. They know what taking medicine means but I don't think they could comprehend the concept of "getting high." I have told my oldest daughter that I've been to jail before but I just told her it was because I broke the law and was acting bad. I do plan on explaining to my children about my past when they get older. I wouldn't be much of a father if I didn't. Maybe hearing some of my stories will help prevent them from straying down the same path I did.

The quantity and power of drugs available, opiates in particular, cannot be compared with alcohol, to which humans have thousands of years of exposure, or other naturally occurring drugs which historically have been rather hard to come by and less potent. You touched on this in your earlier letter, is there some balance to be achieved between prohibition and drugs free-for-all?

As I stated in my original letter you previously posted, law enforcement should take a hands off approach to drug dealing and using within the US. Still keep it illegal on the books and leave it as an underground activity but just don't enforce the drug laws. It hasn't done a bit of good with regard to deterrence. We have worse drug abuse problems now than ever before and have spent trillions of dollars after 40 years of the drug war. Law enforcement would have better results going after these drug addicts for committing thefts and other crimes to support their habits. We need harsh penalties for this kind of behavior.

It's more effective and efficient to use our resources to cut off the supply coming into the United States. I mentioned The Wall on the Mexican border as being a good example of something that would have a big impact on cutting off supply lines.

Another huge problem we have is Fentanyl coming into the country from China. A lot of it is coming in through the mail. There has to be some way for the federal government to crack down on this. Having drug dogs sniffing every package coming in from China could be done for a fraction of the money we spend going after junkies and dope peddlers.

We also need more drug interdiction at our ports. Cargo containers from all over the world are coming in by the multitudes every day with God knows what inside. Not only is this a good argument against free trade and globalization, but it's also something that needs to come under extreme scrutiny by the DEA and Customs agents. Another example of how resources could be allocated toward something that would produce results instead of filling up our prisons with junkies and dealers.

Do you think cannabis should get special consideration, as is now becoming widespread politically?

Marijuana legalization isn't something I dwell on a lot. That ship has already sailed. More and more states are legalizing it and I see that trend continuing. The Bible Belt will be the last region of the country to go along with it, but they'll eventually succumb since their state legislators won't be able to resist the sales tax revenue that can be generated from pot sales.

Personally, I think weed is for degenerates and I don't care what the latest study at Pothead U says, it is harmful to you long term. It makes people have a "don't give a fuck" attitude that leads to less productivity over time. That said, I think we do need to stress to our youth that there's a big difference between marijuana and hard drugs and how they affect your life. We tell kids don't do drugs, and that all drugs are bad. Well, most of them will smoke pot at some point as teenagers and they think "Hey, this isn't such a big deal. They must've been lying to me about all those other drugs too. I think I'll try this heroin. I bet it's no big deal either."

Do you think there are larger economic incentives at play? Junkies are revenue units for all sorts of medical and social services. Pharmaceutical companies benefit from replacement drugs and all sorts of auxiliary drugs.

Yes, I do think there are larger economic interests at play. The obvious ones are, as you mentioned pharmaceutical, medical, and social services. Also the prison and law enforcement sectors base most of their business model on our drug laws. Since most politicians are attorneys, they don't have any incentive to get their tentacles out of this system either. All their buddies still practicing law are making a killing negotiating plea bargains for drug crimes.

We also have our US military protecting the poppy fields in Afghanistan. When the Taliban were in charge, poppy farming was outlawed and punishable by death. Why are we not only allowing poppy farming but encouraging and promoting it? Always remember that the #1 national security issue for the US government is maintaining the US dollar as the world's reserve currency. It's our greatest strength. I'm assuming we've brokered the same deal with Afghan cartels that we brokered with Saudi oil sheiks: We'll provide you with military protection but you can only accept US dollars for your product. This keeps our currency in use and in demand and prolongs dollar hegemony.

But the largest economic interest is one most people probably don't realize. The liquidity provided by organized crime/drug cartels to the financial sector is huge. Without black market economic activity (most of which is drug related) the global economy would probably collapse. In fact, during the 2008 financial crisis, drug money was the only liquid cash available. It's probably what kept us from falling into total ruin.

Thank you so much for your valuable perspective, John Paul Barber.

(c) 2017 Lynn Lockhart & John Paul Barber