Under The God of Things by James LaFond

Under The God of Things by James LaFond

Author:James LaFond [LaFond, James]
Language: eng
Format: azw
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-11-03T16:00:00+00:00


At The End of Masculine Time

A Case for Cultural Resistance

Dustcover At The End of Masculine Time makes the case that modern liberal society is a Faustian matrix whereby the collective and individual souls of men are incinerated on The Altar, of what the author names ‘the God of Things’.

This apostolic manifesto makes the case against the ever pervasive violence of civilization in favor of the serenity of barbarity.

This counter culture meditation on being a man in an emasculated society names the cause, enumerates the symptoms, and offers a cure for what ails men.

Includes the essays:

Echoes of Men

What Smokes on God’s Altar Superman and the Plight of Orks Let the Weak Fall

In The Onion Field of the Soul and, Where Life is Scarce

Copyright 2015 James LaFond For Mescaline Franklin, my brother in Hate, may you bury your righteous blade in this rotten carcass we were born into

If you flatter yourself that you are all over comfortable, and have been so a long time, then you cannot be said to be comfortable anymore.”

-Herman Melville, Moby Dick

Echoes of Men: The Ghosts That Mould Us #1: Our Fathers I was recently out drinking with a young fellow. We have in common the fact that we have often been attacked and threatened by black men and men of other colored ethnic groups. He is a selfdescribed ‘evil white racist.’ But, he befriended a fellow black writer at the mixed-race sports bar, so I know better than to take him at his negative word concerning his prejudices. After all his antipathy of the darker races is based in experience, not theory, not blind hate, and is not prejudice at all.

The fellow I’m speaking of calls himself ‘Mescaline’ Franklin and is a refugee from Camden New Jersey, a place overrun by black crime in his lifetime. He now lives in a better part of the Garden State. He drove to Baltimore to acquire the publishing rights to one of my books An Arabian Terror Tale for his fledgling gonzo publishing empire Forever Autumn Press and paid for the rights by the pitcher at the mixed-race sports bar, and later by the pint at the hipster micro-brew bar across the street.

As we spoke the barmaid —a pleasing example of Caucasian womanhood—overheard our science-fiction conversation and engaged us. As a writer who has travelled very little, when I meet such a person—who I think travelled extensively as a college student—my instinct is to ask about their travels, to try and imprint every word into my writer’s mind.

I was beginning to hope ‘Mescaline’ and her would hit it off. Then she began relating a tale about her travels in Islamic Indonesia, where she often sallied forth alone without an itinerary, like some victim in a Criminal Minds episode, armed with nothing but her American status. Mescaline immediately became angry at the idea of a white woman socializing with another race of men. I felt the tension in his shoulder, saw his muscular jaw jut forward as he snarled about how



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