Bronze Age Mindset Page 10

  But enough of this prison. I suppose you want to know of a way out, or, at least, to hear of a different way of life?

  Part Three: Men of Power, and the Ascent of Youth

  49

  Life appears at its peak not in the grass hut village ruled by nutso mammies, but in the military state. In Archaic Greece, in Renaissance Italy and in the vast expanse of the heroic Old Stone Age, at the middle of the Bronze Age of high chariotry, lived men of power and magnificence in great numbers. We are in every way their inferiors. Physically, spiritually and in intellect they exceed us in every way. I give example: our elite athletes, our special forces operators, are nothing compared to them. We find Paleolithic bones, the femur, so robust that nothing from our runners or power-lifters equals. These men were capable of sustained speeds unimaginable today. You know about Marathon, but not the whole story. The real physical feat wasn’t just the soldier who ran the twenty miles or so back to Athens to warn the people. The entire army ranged on the beach in heavy bronze armor, facing the enemy. After the Persians landed, the Greeks charged them from more than a mile away. The Persians were amazed at the line of gleaming bronze running toward them and their war cry. These men ran a mile in very heavy armor and also carried six-foot-plus ashen spear-spike. They drove the invaders into the sea. And right after this great effort they marched, still in armor, all the way back to Athens without pause, to prevent the Persians from making an opportune landing there. I don’t think any special military units would be able to equal this feat today, and these were the average citizens of Athens. Still more, they exceeded us the same way in mind and spirit: their sophists were able to remember fifty names, and more, upon hearing them once. Some had the gift of remote vision, that the Rosicrucians pine for, and that the Soviet and American intelligence services have attempted to rediscover in vain. Here we have life at its peak. You know about their great art, science, and literature, or think you do. But these were men of conquest, exploration and adventure first. Aeschylus had on his tombstone engraved that he fought at Marathon, not that he wrote his plays. The free man is a warrior, and only a man of war is a real man. We must look to their lives and exploits for inspiration and anticipate with great enthusiasm that such life will return. I’m afraid that, in the end, the examples of ancient men of strong hand, ancient men of power, will be very discouraging to many of you. Because you can’t easily replicate their achievements and power in our time, and also, many of you are actually sissies compared to them, in your blood. But I think it’s good for all of us to remember we’re panty-wearers compared to them. Also, while you may not be able to emulate them in every way, because the age we live in is one of total repression, you can still take some inspiration from their examples, and try to live the same in some way…try to live according to a Bronze Age Mindset. You must not misunderstand this. This is not self-help book and I can’t help you with how to live—no one can. I am concerned with the subjection of life and the suffocation of vitality. I hope to show you that things don’t need to be this way, and that you don’t need to limit yourself to small things. Above all you must reach for the great aim, physical and military independence. Only the warrior is a free man. The only right government is military government, and every other form is both hypocritical and destructive of true freedom. You must aim high! Band with your friends on the way of power and know that nothing has the right to stop you, and nothing can stop you! I say this especially to the military men and those who will become. Some time ago I spoke with another frog about Generalissimo Alfredo Stroessner. He was dictator of Paraguay for forty years. He went to sleep at one in the morning and got up at 4 AM; aside from this he took a two hour siesta in the afternoon (this is before air conditioning, and siesta is a necessity in tropical places). The entire day he worked relentlessly for his country and to keep down the vicious and Satanic communist sect that would have massacred his people—but he also did this for his own glory! The frog says to me, yes this drive is admirable but you have to be specific: You can’t encourage people to strive like this to succeed at World of Warcraft, or at their career as an interior designer, there’s no honor in that. I agree! But when you look at those ages in which life is ascending, the great vitality of their blood is the same as the great aim for which they reach. And although we live in the most debased of all ages, it’s still possible, as you will see, to break this Babylon and have the eternal fire of youth surge you to the heights of power. In your own life you can break their power and ascend to a chaos of joy and destruction. And in our future I already see like faint image far on horizon of vast ocean in violet evening—I see the islands of Hyperborea, on the edge of this Leviathan, where we will be able to establish new outposts and subdue this great beast from the outside.

  50

  Imagine a Mitt Romney, but different…a Romney who actually was capable of acting like he looks, and was worthy of his looks. Imagine a younger Romney who rouses the nation to a new war, against India, through power of charisma and speech alone. Then he leave on ship to head the armies conquering India. But then come rumors that Mitt ran a Black Mass Satanist dinner in New York. Also, people awaken one day and find that someone defaced the Holocaust Museum and the Lincoln Memorial… rumors spread that it is Mitt and his friends, in preparation to overthrow the government. So he is recalled from his command to stand trial. Instead of returning, Mitt runs to Russia where he becomes a major advisor to Putin. Soon though, he finally has to leave in a great hurry when it is discovered he’s been banging Putin’s wife in secret. He runs to China where, again, he miraculously becomes a major political force and advisor, adopting Chinese customs and language with ease. After some time he leaves China and ends up living in Afghanistan with the tribesmen as one of them, in one of their mud fortresses, where he is finally found by American special forces and he goes out fighting, charging them repeatedly with machine gun in his glorious black-and-gold armor and Dune-like headset. Exactly such, and more, was the life of the ancient Alcibiades from Athens. How inconceivable! Even as versatile and flashy a man as Trump is very far from this possibility in our time, though he at least makes such a type somehow believable. There’s nothing like it in almost any other era of history. Someone like Talleyrand is famous for switching from the monarchy, to the republic, to Napoleon, and back, being somewhat successful under different forms of government, and that’s rare enough to make him famous. But that was all within one country. Alcibiades’ achievement is made all the more amazing by the fact that different cultures at that time were actually different, their ways of life entirely alien to one another, and yet he excelled everywhere. I believe this is because in Athens, where he grew up, he picked the god of erotic passion as his patron. He was very beautiful youth, admired and pursued by all the men and women. He rejected the advances of the Pelasgian pedo-pervert Socrates, a story that Plato then inverted and twisted like the lying cunt and Phoenician-asskisser that he was. Alcibiades excelled in athletics and at skrewl he refused to play the flute because it made your cheeks look puffed up and ridiculous. Other boys followed him, considering that the harp is noble, but playing the flute in music is something for slaves and cocksuckers. As he grew in power, his shield had Eros with a thunderbolt on it, and this scandalized the older men. In such way he showed that he was a disciple of the irrepressible life force, a devotee of the young god of sexual passion and total destruction; he showed that no law or word of man would stand in his way! In the beginning was the word?? NO! In the beginning was the demonic fire that bursts out in men like Alcibiades and lays low the cities of men and exposes all their nonsense! Such men are sent by nature to chastise us and be our Nemesis. They are the great cleansing. His story is told by Thucydides and Plutarch, though you must know the latter is a famous liar. But I think there must be someone as colorful as Alcibiades among you.

  51

  The mystery of rigor mortis is very revealing! Why is dead flesh rigid? But study was made where they put dead rigid flesh into bath of ATP,
the master of energy for cells, and the muscles softened and relaxed. The physiologically energetic state is the relaxed state. Flesh that is either rigid or loose is spent, but energetic biomatter vibrates in a ready repose: you see in the glowing skin of very healthy young people this relaxed suppleness in flesh, like Pietro Boselli. I’ve written letter to him, to ask him to allow dozens of nubile women to touch his soft, glowing, full and rubbery-like vibrating skin, all in public. The modern world exhausts and in doing so it makes everything rigid or turns it into a diffuse blob. Physiologically it promotes the stressors, estrogen, serotonin, hyperventilation, over-excitation, the hallmarks of energetic exhaustion. Loss of structure, form and differentiation follows, which was the intention. There follows on this also a spiritual and intellectual rigidity, the orientation of the ideologue, of the social activist, but also of all our intellectual class right and left, as of those who work in the corporate world and in most of the military. They’re stiff and constrained because, in short, they live in utter fear, fear that they will lose something. They have very little to lose, but they live in this fear anyway and this is why when there is a question of potential gain or, worse for them, potential loss, they react with desperation, they freeze in terror and hyperventilate. Our politicians are all like this, and quiver in fear of the spanking hand. Everyone was already so tired of their robotic platitudes, that they repeat out of timidity and because they’re all owned; which is why a man like Trump, who seems not to care, and to find joy in this flouting and energy in this outrageous loosening—he seduces. The modern world is a killjoy, in short. But the ancient Greeks were quite different, and different also from the over-serious stuffy men with English accents who play them in period dramas. What they admired was a carelessness and freedom from constraint that would shock us, and that upsets especially the dour leftist and the conservative role-player. There was a Hippocleides from Athens, said to be one of the most beautiful youths: Herodotus tells this famous story of a man admired by all the world of the time. He went, with dozens of other youths from various Greek cities, to try to marry the daughter of a very important and rich autocrat in Sicily. This man decided to test out the suitors, to find which would be the best husband for his daughter: he put them up for a time, treating them with lavish parties while he tested them in feats of athletics, wit, conversation, and other abilities. It’s a sign of this people’s greatness that marriages weren’t conceived purely as political or financial alliances, but that their aristocracy paid attention to biological quality in pairings. Very few nations have the freedom from the fear I speak of; only a few peoples have had the sense to raise their snouts from the ground, look to the stars, and consider something other than the utility of immediate advantage in marriage and children. The way our own elite today marries and pairs off, by the way, is anything but “eugenic”: two over-the-hill spent people in their thirties marrying for “practical” reasons…this doesn’t give rise to strong children. The bodies of middle-aged people nauseate me, and I assure you, they bring nausea to nature as well. In any case, Hippocleides was becoming the favorite of the father, for all his great qualities, his illustrious lineage, his looks and his charm in conversation. At the last party, however, Hippocleides got drunk and decided to start dancing on the table. Then he started to dance upside down, on his arms, moving his legs around! Well, you know that men then didn’t wear the ridiculous constraining clothmo clothes we wear today, such as pants, so the father was offended at the show. He said, “Hippocleides you have just danced yourself out of a marriage” …but the answer was “Hippocleides doesn’t care.” In this one phrase you have the whole attitude of this beautiful, reckless piratical aristocracy that colonized and conquered their known world. It’s an attitude that upsets all the moralfags of our time, of the left and right. Hippocleides went there to have a good time, to display and use his powers and excellences and biological superiority—but these two things are the same! He didn’t care about the gain or loss of a wife. He didn’t go to act like a meek, beaten male ready to dance to some sclerotic’s tune. He was as careless of his own property as of others’—this is what Tacitus says also about the most noble men among the Germanic tribes, who lived only for the joy of war and battle. This is what the great among the Greeks admired. Another story shows you the same thing: it is also the attitude of Diogenes the Cynic. When Alexander the Great came before his bathtub and asked him what he would want most of all in the world, Diogenes told him to get out of the way, stop blocking the sun…he was just trying to catch some rays! Now compare that to one of our slavish intellectuals and philosophers, and how their meager spirits would huff and puff at the approach of even a mid-level constipated bureaucrat—how distinguished! The honor! Alexander said that if he had not been Alexander, he would wish to have been Diogenes. I don’t know if I can recommend for you to be like Diogenes or Hippocleides. It’s hard, maybe you have to be born that way. I can tell you it’s a better thing to aspire to, divine carelessness that comes from embracing the life force, and that this is what this great people loved. Anything truly great must have some of this divine carelessness. Didn’t the Christians also believe in “give us but our daily bread”—implying that this is enough and you shouldn’t worry about anything else, even for the week? Nietzsche say good things about poverty, independence, and being of good cheer. And these were very poor men: but the sons of God need nothing more!