Bronze Age Pervert
Bronze Age Mindset
Independently published, 2018
“This town needs an enema.” — The Joker
“This explains also why so many traps are obsessed with Hegel.” — Bronze Age Pervert
If Hunter S. Thompson had written Thus Spake Zarathustra, or William S. Burroughs had not just pressed The Decline of the West on his Beat pals but had actually written the book itself, perhaps amusing himself and sparing his family any opprobrium by using the name of an obscure German high-school teacher he might have met abroad, “Oswald Spengler,” this would be that book.
For example, the author (hereinafter “BAP”) as Thompson: “There was loose vampire bat in lobby that had flown in, but this normal.”
And Burroughs: “I like to see trap injecting industrial-grade silicon in chest.”
By invoking such august names — I mean, Nietzsche and Spengler — and then putting them in the context of such modern Jokers as Thompson and Burroughs, I mean to suggest the sort of writing one finds in Bronze Age Mindset (hereinafter BAM), which, by the way, operates under a continual sign of “sic,” like the “perpetual kere” of the Hebrew Torah.
For instance, one won’t find “arguments” as such, as one might in an academic work; rather, certain themes are announced, explored, abandoned for another, then returned to, transformed by context. Philosophy as romantic symphony or Wagnerian opera.
You can’t say he doesn’t warn us right from the start: “This is not book of philosophy. It is exhortation.”
And again, right off the bat, there’s the language, “the filthy lingo it’s written in.” It’s a pose, of course, like Nietzsche’s attempt to sound like a Persian prophet, or the inbred hick dialects of H. P. Lovecraft’s lesser works. I think it’s meant to suggest the bastardized Blade Runner-style patois of the louche [under]world of globalized vice that the author, paradoxically, suggests is the only proper home for today’s spiritual elite. You’re listening to a Serbian pimp selling drugs to Thai ladyboys outside A. J.’s Rumpus Room from Naked Lunch.
So what are these themes? There’s quite a lot of them; what starts as a Spenglerian treatise on cultural evolution eventually becomes a handbook of lifestyle advice, sort of Jack Donovan by way of Jordan Peterson.
For a start, like Nietzsche and Spengler, BAP — roused from his slumbers by his “frog friends,” he says, like Nietzsche’s Zarathustra — takes stylus in hand to deride Darwin as just another English “fact man” (although he assures us he is no Creationist). No one needed “half and half men” (what man of real intelligence would go into biology, rather than math or physics?) like Darwin or today’s “evolutionary psychologists” (all of them “HBD Chicks” and incel nerds, whatever their supposed chromosomes) to know that traits are inherited and organisms fitted to their environments; this is a matter of simple observation – “Make no big stories. Take animal and study” — and it is this that the Left actually fears, not the materialistic mechanisms of “natural selection.”
Only a bugman would think nature had no purpose, but the Darwinist confuses this with his materialism, and thinks the purpose is mere reproductive success, mere survival. BAP rejects this absurd idea; like Spengler, he finds the most basic drive to be that of expansion in space, so as to develop inborn powers, and then dominance over the subsequent territory. “Reproduction is side effect of animal desire for discharge of strength, after mastery over space is achieved.” Darwinism, by contrast, being the product of Malthusian England, “describes life under extreme stress”; it is “the philosophy of life of the tenement and the slum, of the open air work-camp.”
BAP then reverses himself — a rhetorical swerve, as Paglia would say — and now the simple, direct observation of animals yields insights into the nature of science itself, even those subjects beyond the low, half-and-half level of biology. Animals move about in a perpetual state of what we would consider “religious delirium,” as did man, until “agriculture broke the human animal and domesticated him.” Even today, this is the state of those who make the great scientific discoveries — “no great discovery has ever been made by the power of reason,” which is merely a means of communicating “intuitions and sudden grasp of ideas.”
Indeed, contrary to Heidegger, “Science is not in and of itself the cause of our problems, of your ‘alienation,’ nor does it have any content beyond who uses it and for what.”
For what science itself teaches us is the reality of hierarchy:
It can, as Nietzsche predicted, settle the question of the true hierarchy of values, or more precisely, the real ladder of life, the true hierarchy of biological types.
The bottom of the ladder is where we find the bugmen and their autistic obsessions over HBD, as well as “the modern peasant” who has traded his old wives’ tales for modern superstitions provided by smug “popularizers”; like a cargo-cultist, he has no understanding of science, but believes in its technology, which gives him the illusion of being in control of the primal forces of nature.
That bugmen and those who control them is not the fault of science, but a historico-political problem.
There is no inner working of technology that inevitably leads to human subjection. The tendency exists merely because, by allowing an overwhelming increase in the numbers of the superfluous, it gives them and those who cater to them power when it is mixed with democracy.
As civilizations move through their cyclical life, gradually a superfluity of such creatures begins to overwhelm the elite; democracy becomes the means whereby the elite is replaced by the bugmen, the fact-grubbers, the nerds, and the Judaizing tendency within all of us.
Thanks to this motley crew — and the hidden elites that control them — the idiocy of Darwinism metastasizes into the “imbecility” of “AI”:
It is a fantasy of power of the conspiracy of biological interests that unites the nerds, the intellect of “reason” — the party that believes in empty words — the middling, and the Jews of the human spirit into hoping for their golem. “AI” is the golem of those who hate life . . . It is their true Messiah and their vengeance [against the lovers of beauty].
The bugman pretends to be motivated by compassion, but is instead motivated by a titanic hatred of the well-turned-out and beautiful.
The beautiful and the carefree makes a mockery of what they take most seriously. The beautiful threaten to unravel the regimentation under which they must subject their constant crude need for things.
I am speaking of two opposing views of life that are based in two very different needs of two very different biological orientations. There can be no compromise between those who live under the pressure of need and of material increase, who are the walking shadows of the dead, and on the other side, those who are carefree, joyous, pleasure-loving and worship beauty. One seeks the preservation and expansion of mere life, the other seeks the exaltation of life.
There is hope, though: The end of the cycle may come about through flood or meteor, but as well, there is “the emergence of brotherhoods of savage men who have decided to purify the earth and rid it of the infestation of the human-cockroach.” The modern — or archeofuturist — Männerbund; like the one from which societies first arose, male groups will return to reclaim its power and bring about rebirth though fire and destruction.
The coming age of barbarism will not be owned, as so many of you urban cucks fear, by the gangbangers and the unwashed hordes of the teeming cesspools of the world, but by clean-cut middle-class and working-class vets, men of military experience, who know something about how to shoot and how to organize.
Every great thing in the past was done through strong friendships between two men, or brotherhoods of men, and this includes all great political things, all acts of political freedom and power.
From themes, let’s turn to style.
By invoking Thompson and Burroughs, I mean to suggest not only the obviously modern concerns of this author but also both the very modern contempt for “civilized” standards of conduct or decorum, as well as the intense, “existential” involvement of the author in his work; taking the form of Thompson’s “new journalist” insertion of himself into the action, often in a form of humorous yet often hallucinatory digressions — like Burroughs’ “routines” out of which much of his earliest work evolved — that somehow deliver a critical perspective on the merely factual situation.
For example, this, not the sort of thing you’d read in a treatise on historical cycles, but which might be an outtake from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas:
My favorite thing is to walk around the city during the day completely plastered, on very crowded streets or on boardwalk by sea or river, with container maybe it looks like iced tea or water but is full of alcohol. At night I don’t enjoy as much, but during the day to walk around in a stare of great enthusiasm and energy powered by liquor or, best of all, some kind of wine that energizes you to a great and holy rage. I don’t mean really rage, because I’m laughing on the inside, but I love to walk around like this, to see the people, to accost strangers in all kinds of ways, nothing is more entertaining.
At the lounge, when the bouncer asked me if “I was on drugs” . . . and I pushed his forehead away from me in a gesture of majesty and power. I was soundly beaten up by his goons in the alley.
Finally, who is Bronze Age Pervert?
Obviously, the title is a play on Mike Cernovich’s Gorilla Mindset; yet one doubts that the dour Cernovich is capable of such a playful perspective on his own work; he lacks what both Nietzsche and Spengler would call espirit; when Nietzsche talks of testing idols with a hammer, he adds “as with a tuning fork,” something most “Right-wingers” miss. Still less might the po-faced profiteer Jordan Peterson be capable of such playfulness of perspective on his own pensées (such as they are; perhaps it is already parody?).
Still, given his premises, concerns, solutions, and sheer audacity, the author seems to be someone in the “Alt Right” sphere.
One notes as well that the pseudonym, Bronze Age Pervert, frequently referred to on the interwebs as BAP, seems to recall the 1997 movie B*A*P*S, a sort of blackened remake of Clueless. This would suggest Robert Stark, whose recent Return to Vapor Island sounded many of the same themes. Yet Stark’s rather pedestrian, predictable prose lacks the delight in its own inventiveness we find here, and the themes are less playfully developed than obsessively repeated until literally ad nauseum.
No, the author has to be one of the CCC, or “Counter-Currents circle,” which has been widely acknowledged, especially by our enemies, as the intellectual center of the dissident Right.
Immediately one thinks of Greg Johnson, but Johnson is too serious about his role as a public intellectual to spend time on what may seem to him to be a trifle. Jef Costello also comes to mind; his work is certainly from and about his personal life, and he shares BAP’s enthusiasm for workouts and world travel, but for all that he lacks a more than sporadic contact with sustained intellectual constructs — he’s no academic!
The author of BAM, I submit, is Counter-Currents’ own James J. O’Meara. The themes are too kaleidoscopically varied and too socially challenging to be anyone else.
For example, BAP writes that:
I have always been attracted by filth and dirt, because something in me knew intuitively that it is only in the underseam of life as it exists today that you find the real “lacunae,” the “holes” where its reach is limited or weak. I always sensed there was some real freedom in the blackest of red light districts among whores and junkies, perverts, and worse, with whom I’ve always chosen to take my dinners when I had the chance. It’s in this world and almost only in this world today that you can start to polish the claws nature gave you, assuming it gave you any. [For example,] on a late summer night when you are asked by corrupt lawyer to spy on Lebanese strip club owner and you’re out in courtyard with 20-year-old prostie, she put cocaine on your tongue and you feel . . . for a few minutes like animal before moment of hunt.
Or as described earlier in the book:
I was outside night club in city that is still untouched by first-world regimented hygiene: well-lighted, clean streets made safe for women come at a high price for the mood of a city. In this place the government and bureaucracy couldn’t extend its rules and cleanup efforts even if it wanted. There are then many nooks and hidden corners that are under no one’s control. In this no-man’s land there is mafia, so many perverts, there is some crime, but it’s kept at mostly very low or nonviolent level because place is full of off-duty cops on the make and no doubt spooks foreign and domestic, and who knows what else. I find life without such refuge to be almost intolerable, so here I felt free but I think was after day in a haze and the glycine was kicking in.
All of which clearly alludes to the New York City nightclub experiences that O’Meara has retailed in such essays as “Fashion Tips for the Far-from-Fabulous Right” or “From Ultrasuede to Limelight: Halston & Gatien, Aryan Entrepreneurs in the Dark Age.” He’s left us a sly little clue, too; way over at the end of the book, discussing the need for tanning, he exhorts us: “You’re meant to worship the sun. Remember the song of New Order!” which clearly alludes to the opening scene of American Psycho, where we see a Hollywood simulacrum of the famous Meatpacking District club Jackie 60, discussed in these essays.
More? Section Sixteen starts off with a bang: “Chimp in state of nature never jerks off, but in captivity he does, wat [sic] does this mean?” Well, why not look in the mirror, hypocrite écrivain! Or at least in the essay “Of Apes, Essence & the Afterlife,” where O’Meara discusses chimps and the human imagination, as well as Dr. Strangelove’s General Ripper’s theory of purity of essence, which BAP goes on to allude to thus:
W*m*n . . . have an instinct to seek out ascending life and drain it . . . they and the species thereby achieve their goals, but you are bled dry and sometimes left a husk . . . by their drainage of vital essence they’ve laid low many great tasks.
. . . as well as the idea that “Reincarnation is a kind of hell.” All this is part of BAP’s discussion of the idea that “leisure is the source of all great things,” which simply restates the thesis of Josef Pieper, Leisure, the Basis of Culture, the textbook in O’Meara’s Philosophy 115 class many years ago, both of which he has discussed frequently, almost as frequently as he’s discussed Alan Watts and his denial of the Judaic “real self,” or as BAP says, “What is this you apart from your hormones?”
The discussion of Freud’s patients experiencing “the inner pain [of] trying to shift from [a] mediaeval, collective, smothering culture of ugliness to one where personal space and distance, refinement and beauty, were instead valued” is clearly referring to Cuddihy’s The Ordeal of Civility, which informs O’Meara’s studies of the Mad Men TV series.
Speaking of Mad Men, perhaps the most persuasive evidence is BAP’s several references to diddlers. Seriously, who else have you ever seen use the phrase “diddler”?
An obvious counter-example, though, is BAP’s “no homo” stance on historical male groups. O’Meara’s position has always been that these were, as Ean Frick has said, “homoerotic but not necessarily homosexual,” which is to say, that operating outside of the Judaicly contaminated world, man’s natural ambisexuality is simply not an issue; why would proud Aryan men “worry” that their group is “tainted by” or “suspected of” something of which the Jewish god disapproves?
I think this is likely yet another pose; knowing this issue would be brought up, the best way to lend verisimilitude to this new persona would be to make a clean break on this very point. Perhaps he also looked forward to seeing the lumpenintellectuals of the Right zoom in on this to support their own crypto-Judaic agendas, both hiding in plain sight and trolling at the same time.
As it is, the case is weak, I think deliberately so. The whole section is just a parade of material that could have come straight out of James Neil’s The Origins and Role of Same-Sex Relations in Human Societies, which was written to produce a compendium of exactly this kind of evidence for the opposite conclusion; to which BAP adds nothing more than the claim that “I know the rumors that these friendships were sexual, but I believe this is misunderstanding and exaggeration promoted by the homonerds of our time, for reasons I will explain later.” Where this “explanation” appears I can’t tell; he does make the limp claim that “Homer never hints such friendship [of Achilles and Patroclus] was sexual” (Neil deals with this) and asserts that “[i]t is only out of the poverty of our imagination that we think it was.”
The cream of the jest comes when BAP offers us this:
In Athens the two friends Harmodius and Aristogeiton put down the tyranny through their schemes and their bravery: this is, you know, why all tyrants and totalitarians are suspicious of strong friendships between men.
Indeed, statutes of the two “friends” were common throughout ancient Greece as icons of freedom from Oriental tyranny; one, in fact, is right on the cover of Neil’s book!
Despite all this, BAP has a fairly anodyne theory of homosexuality, but even here there are echoes. He takes up Paglia’s theory and gives it his own spin: “’Homosexuality’ in our age, in any case, is unlike any behavior in the past: as a total phenomenon, it represents one of the characteristic ways that some of the most unusual specimens respond to domestication and are broken by it.”
Paglia’s restatement of Freud is correct, but she misses an important element of the story, which is why such a boy turns away from the masculinity of his peers in the first place. It is not horseplay or the roughness of male competition as such that makes him turn away, but the utterly fake or artificial character of such displays, usually, in our time . . . the fact that all such play is happening in already owned space . . . he is turned off, maybe not by manliness, but the buffoonish, deluded character of modern masculinity . . . Modern adult Western male seeks permission to watch other men playing sports, quaff vegetable oil relish, beg for “coochie” in simulated intercourse, masturbation with plastic on dick . . . their sham simulated masculinity is now a parody of the true manliness, which in a state of ascent develops into the will to actually dominate space around oneself, not into a caricature for the benefit of women.
I use this as illustrative and true example of what happens to all higher types in our time. The vast majority don’t become gay, but the plight of the gay is the most simple and therefore instructive example of this. How one responds to this . . . that is different.
BAP asserts that the homosexual is simply someone who rightly rejects the phony “masculinity” of the modern (i.e., post-Bronze Age) world, but wrongly interprets this alienation as a result of some sexual peculiarity for which society oppresses him. In a further turn of the screw, he then becomes susceptible to being co-opted by the nihilistic Left, who offer him the opportunity to avenge himself on “normal” society.
The space of night that gays created for themselves, in which such types could at least feel they had new opportunity to expand and act, was nuked in the 1980s with AIDS first of all, and then at the same time with the “gay rights” and “gay identity” movement, through which they came “into the open,” and became the worst and most merciless enforcers of the global slave state.
Which, of course, is simply the thesis of the title essay of The Homo and the Negro. BAP also says similar things about the value of the homosexual milieu, that “space of night” just referred to, precisely as a conservative function, preserving some remnant of the Old Ways:
The gay underworld . . . no longer really exists in our time. But in the 1950s and a little before then, when the system of global tyranny was being firmly erected, it should not be a surprise from everything that has been said, that the gay underworld was the “negative” of the new world order, its sieve and pressure valve. The gay underworld was part of “the remainder” . . . it was always the ghost world, the underworld left over that the engineers of our time couldn’t manage or account for in the erection of the Leviathan.
The homosexual provided the liminal role:
The gays formed a kind of “bulk population” that allowed an easy bridge between this world and ours. They made it far more permeable to others as well: if you had girlfriend, maybe artsy girlfriend, she had ghey friend; you could go with them to lounge of this half-world, and there would be there . . . maybe two social contacts removed . . . there would . . . one of them. . . . Our world is the house of subjection, they live in the estate of freedom and power.
Nevertheless, BAP’s presumption that “‘Homosexuality’ in our age . . . is unlike any behavior in the past” is completely groundless. The reality is, as John Lauritsen puts it, that ultimately homosexuality needs no “explanation”; what needs explaining is the theological taboo, and the answer to that he finds in Leviticus, as does BAP:
Among the Jews, the promotion of this kind of camaraderie and friendship was a great miracle in the early 20th Century, because it so much went against their culture of the cramped shtetl, of nerds dominated by women and old people and by fear.
But then BAP has odd ideas about history:
The continuity of history, if not its progress, is that last thread that secular, scientific man, unmoored in the universe on this floating rock, the play of titanic and foreign forces . . . it’s the last connection that he had to any sanity. I want a world of psychosis. I want the end of his sanity. What if there is no firm ground to what we receive from history, and the continuity we think we have is actually a jumbled and confused mess — that events from antiquity have been confused with events from the Middle Ages, for example? I found the suggestion of Fomenko, that the Crusades and the Trojan War were really the same event, to be so disorienting that I had to act out in a very vehement and stern way that day later.
This alludes to “the speculations of Anatoly Fomenko, as well as the so-called ‘phantom-time hypothesis,’ which claims that three centuries have been wrongly added to our chronology.” I’m not aware if O’Meara has written on this, but they form a part of the research of Michael Hoffman on the role of entheogens in the history of religions and consciousness, which he has referenced on numerous occasions; which also slots in with BAP’s remarks on (what we would call) altered states of consciousness being natural to man and animals.
Another piece of evidence is his recent publication, Magick for Housewives: Essays on Alt-Gurus itself, which, though consisting mostly of essays that previously appeared on the Counter-Currents Website, appears under the Manticore imprint. A pseudonymous publication, wiping out even the author’s name, is the obvious next step.
Of course, another conclusion might be that all this has simply been lifted from O’Meara’s published work, perhaps unknowingly, during one of those episodes of drunken exhilaration BAP claims to enjoy; or perhaps he prefers to name-check no one but the favored group of Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, Spengler, and Paglia; but I prefer to think more charitably of my fellow men.
Why has O’Meara chosen the pseudographical path? Perhaps he feels that this will enhance the “Indra’s Web” of Internet referentiality that he tried to create on the virtual page. Perhaps he thinks that creating a network of pseudo-colleagues will give his work the appearance of an ongoing, successful research program. We know of his continuing interest in what leading New Testament scholar Bart Ehrman has called the “forgery factory,” by which the first Christians concocted their so-called “Holy Scriptures.” Above all, we know that he studied in Canada with the world’s leading authority on the “pseudonymous strictures” through which Søren Kierkegaard transmitted his “subjective truth.”
Another explanation can be found in BAM itself — a stealth strategy:
If Ann Coulter or Pat Buchanan were in charge, you would get 99% of what you want. Therefore use them as models to solve the problems that face you, and don’t scare the peoples with crazy talk if you want to move things politically.
Those of you who choose this path, if you like this book or the other things I say, should denounce it and disavow me if ever asked about it, and denounce also all other crazy ideas. You must have an instinct for how much normies are able to take. It isn’t even a question of getting them to where you want “gradually” — I don’t think they’re able to get very far at all. But they can be moved to defend themselves from the grip of the global slave state, which I also hate, although for different reasons. 
So, perhaps BAP is a disciple of O’Meara, trying to slip the latter’s ideas into a wider audience. Ultimately, who can say?
 Burroughs’ first book, Junky, was published under the name of “William Lee.” He also appears under an array of aliases in the works of Jack Kerouac, and presumably others. See Oliver Harris’ Introduction to the “50th Anniversary Definitive Edition” (Penguin, 2003).
 “Industrial-grade silicon” is a brilliant way to indicate the confluence of transsexualism and the virtual world conjured by Silicon Valley.
 “I hardly have anything to say to most who aren’t like me, still less do I care about convincing.” “I don’t need to add notes for spergs and pedants.”
 Even dour old Hegel was capable of taking a more rhetorical pose, at least in the Preface to his otherwise turgid Phenomenology of Mind: “The Phenomenology is preceded by a remarkable Preface, which is a literary as well as a philosophical masterpiece.” J. N. Findlay, Hegel (1958), p. 83; “The preface roars like a romantic symphony . . . I compare it to a world-historical festival . . .” Gustav Emil Müller, Hegel (1959), p. 203. Even there, he turns on his more playful pals and demands “the seriousness of the Concept.” Students who attended the graduate seminars on Hegel conducted by Emil Fackenheim recall that he would prop his legs up on the table, light a cigar, and then launch into an hour-long “Hegelian rhapsody,” ask if there were any questions and, there being none, leave.
 Philip Larkin to Kingsley Amis, about the Old English being incompetently taught them by J. R. R. Tolkien himself. Take that, hobbit-lovers.
 “It is only in the underseam of life as it exists today that you find the real ‘lacunae,’ the ‘holes’ where its reach is limited or weak. I always sensed there was some real freedom in the blackest of red light districts among whores and junkies, perverts, and worse, with whom I’ve always chosen to take my dinners when I had the chance . . . It’s in this world and almost only in this world today that you can start to polish the claws nature gave you, assuming it gave you any.” “I don’t pretend to be a rebirth of Theseus or Ajax, but if any such man were born today, he’d be fast in a mental asylum or dead.”
 The more than a hundred Amazon reviewers (91% positive) have focused on the latter aspect in their attempts to sound like their mentor; readers should know that there isn’t as much actually here about nude powerlifting and coconut oil massages as you would think from the reviews. Nietzsche was prone to give his readers advice on diet and lifestyle, including his famous remark “Only thoughts that are reached by walking have value” (Twilight of the Idols, “Maxims and Arrows” 34; Walter Kaufmann, trans.).
 For Spengler, see A. E. Stern, “Between the Heroic & the Immeasurable: The Historical Background of Oswald Spengler’s Philosophy of Science.”Of related interest is Nietzsche’s famous dictum, “Man does not strive for happiness, only the Englishman does” (Twilight of the Idols, ibid., 1895).
 “This is not a Creationist book . . . Nor do I believe in the ‘miracle’ that modern science has invented, hiding under the world ‘random mutation’ and the handwaving of ‘incremental change’. . . At some point the incremental explanation becomes so convoluted it is hard to believe. . . . Evolutionary theory today is slowly in the same position [as Ptolemaic astronomy).”
 Already we have a warning to the “Alt Right”: abandon any idea of carving out a white ethnostate; no healthy people ever surrenders territory. “Polk was the greatest President.”
 “I have to laugh at the ‘secular worldview,’ the disenchanted worldview, which is in fact the worldview or mood of the broken peasant farmer.”
 Again, more German Romanticism; see Jason Reza Jorjani, Prometheus and Atlas (London: Arktos, 2016) for a discussion of Kant and Schelling on the origin of concepts in aesthetic ideas.
 See Evola’s discussion of this in “The Nature of Initiatic Knowledge,” reprinted in Introduction to Magic: Rituals and Practical Techniques for the Magus (Rochester, Vt.: Inner Traditions, 2001).
 This is why, contra Jim Kunstler and his ilk, the solution is not to dial back to an earlier, more pleasant stage: “any such attempt in the modern world, I mean to promote the small village, the rustic life, the modest life, will lead not to the reestablishment of the glories of past ages, but to the freezing of modern corruption, to its stabilization and permanence. You will get small communities run by the gynocracy, to suppress true manhood and youth, but this time with the benefit of whatever modern technology is already around.” In the same way, my countryman Kingsley Amis mocked “the home-made pottery crowd, the organic husbandry crowd, the recorder-playing crowd, the Esperanto [crowd]” who seemed unaware that “the point about Merrie England is that it was about the most un-Merrie period in our history” (Lucky Jim, 1953; Penguin, 1992, with Introduction by David Lodge; p. 158.). Here, BAP contradicts himself: “’Merry Old England,’ for example was a place of joy and drunkenness and feasts.” I must note that Ian Carmichael, who played Jim Dixon in the film, later achieved some fame portraying my great-granddad, Lord Peter Wimsey, in several BBC series you Yanks may have seen.
 “The nerd can be described as a person of inelegant and pedantic intelligence, often middling intelligence, who takes excessive pride in the intellect, even in the memorization of facts, the design of clumsy concepts to which reality is then expected to fit. . . . Nerds, so prized by the middlebrow clothmos who rule the cities and want to think that, well, at least they’re smart and deserve RESPECT, are people who possess a kind of self- destructive parody of intelligence . . . The nerd is a creature of will, under the direction of a petty will in the everyday sense, and all of his thoughts, concepts, and designs have a forced quality because they refer always to need and desire for some kind of gain.”
 “The Judaizing tendency that promotes facility with words and number, but approaches mental deficiency and even retardation when it comes to anything visual.”
 “Beauty is the very rare and precious preserve of tribes that have striven to promote child-making for something other than financial, social and political gain . . . among the great civilizations, only the ancient Greeks, the French, the Japanese, and somewhat the Italians are true lovers of beauty and refinement, and have based their existence exclusively on the promotion of beauty.”
 Quoting Heraclitus, “The best desire one thing above all, ever-flowing eternal fame among mortals; but the many glut themselves like cattle,” BAP adds “This is what I believe in!”
 “Very concretely you see in feminism the return of pre-Aryan matriarchy. The great “Earth Mother,” originally some kind of half-human half-cockroach creature resplendent with horrid eggs like big Amazon centipede [Burroughs again!] . . . this seeks to re-absorb you. It is not women actually being free, but their “legal freedom,” a practical fiction, being used by a hidden power to oppress, to dispossess, to intimidate and extort. . . . It’s only because women lost all respect for the males of the time that there could be any pretext like feminism or ‘women’s suffrage’ in the first place. The loss of respect in general marks the modern age since 1800 or so: the loss of respect in authority, for example, that came when industrialists and bankers replaced the warrior nobility.”
 “It was the Puritans who introduced hops, precisely to make beer bitter and unpleasant, and to turn it from a stimulant into a soporific that kills the sexual instinct in man.”
 See Harris again, Introduction to Burroughs’ Queer, 25th Anniversary edition, edited with an Introduction by Oliver Harris (Penguin, 2010).
 “Reading James O’Meara is a psychedelic experience.” — Jack Donovan.
 Oscar Wilde described a similar period in his life as “feasting with panthers.”
 Reprinted in The Homo & the Negro: Masculinist Meditations on Politics and Popular Culture, edited by Greg Johnson, Second, Embiggened Edition (San Francisco: Counter-Currents, 2017).
 Reprinted in Green Nazis in Space! New Essays on Literature, Art, & Culture, edited by Greg Johnson (San Francisco: Counter-Currents, 2015).
 Here, 3:25.to 4:42. Bateman’s secretary is played by Chloë Sevigny, who later appeared in Party Monster (Bailey/Barbato, 2003), which tells the story of Michael Allig’s theme nights at Peter Gatien’s club Limelight, as detailed (and reviewed) in “From Ultrasuede . . .” The movie is based on the book by JAMES St. JAMES — how many times does he need to shout this clue?
 Reprinted in Magick For Housewives: Essays on Alt-Gurus (Manticore, 2018).
 1948; new translation by Gerald Malsbary with an Introduction by Roger Scruton (South Bend, Ind.: St. Augustine’s Press, 1998).
 See “There & Then: Personal & Memorial Reflections on Alan Watts (1915-1973),” reprinted in Magick for Housewives, op. cit.
 See the classic study of Jewish bumptiousness, John Murray Cuddihy, The Ordeal of Civility: Freud, Marx, Levi-Strauss, and the Jewish Struggle With Modernity (New York: Basic Books, 1975).
 The End of an Era: Mad Men and the Ordeal of Civility (San Francisco: Counter-Currents, 2015).
 “Customs and religious authorities that concern themselves with how you should wipe you ass, brush teeth, how many fingers to insert in anus to achieve such and such ‘magical-medical’ goal, petty legalisms of all kinds — the Shiite sect among Muslims and rabbinical Judaism are most like this.”
 See, for instance, the reviewer on Thermidor Mag, who practically creams his pants as he eagerly snaps up the “libs promote homosexuality to taint male groups” sophism without the slightest awareness that such groups would have to already be “tainted” with Judeo-homohate. Has he never noticed that the Jew always works both sides? What kind of Aryan Männerbund concerns itself with rabbis’ drivel?
 Reviewed, of course, by O’Meara: A Review of James Neill’s “The Origins and Role of Same-Sex Relations in Human Societies” (Amazon.com: Kindle Editions, 2013).
 BAP at various times give examples of great men, such as “da Vinci, an Alexander,” or Frederick the Great; all could have come from Neil’s list of great men of ambisexual nature.
 And I don’t mean this kind: ((())).
 “This explains also why so many traps are obsessed with Hegel.”
 Speaking of “ghost world,” BAP also acknowledges the obvious affinity of homosexuals for espionage and vice versa: “Let’s not forget, I repeat, that the ‘gay underworld’ was hardly just the gays, but precisely that world penetrated by all types of deviants, perverts, whores, pimps, impresarios, night club owners, mafia, gangsters, spooks, intelligence services of all kinds.” Sounds like the Interzone of Burroughs’ Naked Lunch, or really any “Beat” novel. Burroughs acquired the nickname “El Hombre Invisible” and was likely a CIA spook himself. See Miles Mathis, “From Theosophy to the Beat Generation or How even the Occult was Disguised.”
 Not to be confused with Michael A. Hoffman, the anti-Talmud, pro-Old Testament revisionist historian.
 For example, in addition to the aforementioned discussion of science as a cargo cult, the discussion of reincarnation is clearly derived from the unnamed Evola; see Magic, op. cit. Of course, Evola originally published these essays under pseudonyms as well. Moreover, his disparagement of concern over demographics — “The idea that whites or Japanese should start vomiting out six or seven children to a vagina like the illiterate slave hordes of Bangladesh or Niger is absurd. For one, it’s never going to happen . . . and it shouldn’t. Throughout history we’ve almost always been outnumbered, and it hasn’t been a problem. Immigration restriction, combined with some judicious deportation done gradually, would be enough to secure the homelands of the civilized” — echoes Evola’s views as well; see “The Problem of Births” in Ride the Tiger: A Survival Manual for the Aristocrats of the Soul, trans. Joscelyn Godwin and Constance Fontana (Rochester, Vt.: Inner Traditions, 2003).
 Vincent: Well, that’s one way to say it. Another way is, he was thrown out. Another way is, he was thrown out by Marsellus. And even another way is, he was thrown out of a window by Marsellus because of you.
Mia: Is that a fact?
Vincent: No, it’s not, it’s just what I heard.
Mia: Who told you?
Vincent: They. (Pulp Fiction, Tarantino, 1994)
 See “Five Years, What a Surprise,” the Introduction to the Embiggened Edition of The Homo & The Negro, op. cit.
 See Ralph Henry Johnson, The Concept of Existence in the Concluding Unscientific Postscript (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1972).
 Italics mine.
 Eddy: You broke the computer?
Bubble: Who can say? (Absolutely Fabulous, Season 2, Episode 3, “Morocco”)