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Posted January 4, 2018 By John C Wright

Writers look up odd things.

So I was looking up filthy Russian swearwords, and discovered that if you want to call someone a male member, and tell him to go male member himself, or stuff a male member in an unlikely orifice (Russian is a wonderful language for swearing in, or so I am told), the word is ‘huj‘ which is pronounced ‘hooey.’

Looking in my handy dandy circa-1950 dictionary, I see that the origin of the word hooey is merely noted as from the 1920s, origin unknown. Could the phrase have been wafted over here with immigrants from Eastern Europe?

(I trust only dictionaries written before 1950 or so. It defines “spaceship” as “an imaginary aircraft of the future for flight out of the earth’s atmosphere.” The later ones are corrupted with politically correct hooey.)


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Lost on the Last Continent, Episode 31, The Winged Prince

Posted January 3, 2018 By John C Wright

Lost on the Last Continent, Episode 31, The Winged Prince, is now posted on Patreon.

Episode 31 The Winged Prince

In this exciting episode, Colonel Lost corners a wounded and desperate leader of the attacking forces. Can he save the life of the hostage? Does he even want to?

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Red Pill Religion: Godlessness and Culture

Posted January 3, 2018 By John C Wright

Max Kolbe and I go live tonight at 8.00 Eastern Standard Time, for the next installment of Red Pill Religion. Tonight the topic is the effect of godlessness on the culture.

All and sundry are invited to join the chat, and pose questions:

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Dangerous: A Tale of Two Years

Posted January 3, 2018 By John C Wright

My latest column is up at My paycheck depends entirely on ad click-throughs. so I shamelessly beg without shame for my kindly and kindhearted readers to go there in droves, and send your family and friends and family dog.

WRIGHT: A Tale of Two Years, Remembering Sweet ’17

An excerpt:

Imagine if the mighty stream of history, like a river striking an obdurate rock, might be divided in twain. In one universe, perhaps, events as we know them have taken place, but in the nearby parallel universe, Mr. Spock has a goatee and everything good and normal in our native timeline, there, in the negative universe, is backward and bizarre.

Once, perhaps, this concept of a divided timeline was the speculation of physicists or the plotline of science fiction shows. But in 2017 we saw this in stark reality.

It is customary for pundits and windbags to pen a year-in-review column in the last week in December, as this is a magical time, a twilight zone, between year and year, when it is proper to take the measure of how far we have risen or fallen. It is a time to laugh at fears now proved to be false fears, and to dismiss as vanity hopes now proved hollow. It is also a time of year when it is proper to remind ourselves that man is mortal, and our years on Earth are numbered and known, and shall not come again.

But I will pen here no year-in-review, because, believe it or no, two years just went by, not one.

The year that went by for me, in the universe I share with conservatives, libertarians, and true Americans was one of unparalleled triumph, victory, and gains so grand I fear we shall grow tired of winning.

The year that went by in a strange parallel universe, isolated by the gulf of alien dimensions from us, as foreign as the timeline where George Bailey never lived, was a year of unqualified misery and woe, and the tears of the self-righteous never ceased to flow.

Normally, it would be impossible to see from one self contained continuum to the next. The laws of physics prevent it. But, in this case, thanks to a phenomenon stranger than the quantum entanglement or the paradox of the Einstein Rosen Podolsky spooky action at a distance, we all were able to see and read newspapers, news broadcasts, and hear editorial commentary from the strange creatures inhabiting the antimatter universe.

For the sake of convenience, and in honor of the season, let us call our universe Bedford Falls. And let us call the bizarre antimatter universe Pottersville.

Let us next list the events of the year, pop-cultural, social, economic, cultural and political.


In the Potterverse, 2017 saw the unveiling of the long-awaited Star Wars: The Last Jedi loved by all for its strong trans-feminist message, its portrayal of men as toxic oafs easily beaten by untrained girls and browbeaten by blue-haired harridans, and it affirmation that the past must be burned in order to make way for Year Zero. There are no heroes. Nothing in life is worth fighting for. 93% of reviewers agree.

But in the Bedfordverse, Social Justice Wars: The Last Film in the Franchise was a middle finger from the ungrateful, peevish, grinch-grinning filmmakers as the sole repayment to a fanbase remaining fanatically loyal for forty years. All the mysteries and plot threads were answered by the film equivalent of telling us to bugger ourselves, the various plot holes were stupid, and beloved characters were desecrated, humiliated, and killed, and no actions had any consequences. 55% of filmgoers agree.

It goes on in like vein. I enjoyed writing it, and hope you enjoy reading.

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Posted January 2, 2018 By John C Wright

Here follows an excerpt from COUNT TO INFINITY

— PART ELEVEN: The Edge of Orion  —

CHAPTER ONE: The Cataclysmic Variable in Canes Venatici

1. The Ghost

AD 92000 to 95500

He was dead, that was sure; but not entirely, and not permanently.

When awareness fled and all activity ceased, it could have been called sleep or hibernation. But he had been in those two states of being before, frequently, and for long periods, and this was something more still, more silent, less like life than that.

When awareness returned, Menelaus Illation Montrose was a pattern of leptons distributed throughout a featureless lump of gray metal falling through darkness and nothingness. He had neither hands, nor head, nor heart, intestines or eyes.

Nor did he have engines, fuel, reserve energy, or motive power, and the sails had been three fourths torn away. Had they been wholly torn away, as his assassin had planned, he would have been well and truly dead by now, dead beyond recovery or revival.

Instead, the sails absorbed enough ambient starlight to allow him, every three or four hundred years, for three or four minutes, to wake. Chemical energy reserves woven into the gray lump of the ship’s mass were sufficient to energize a cubic foot of his outer hull, stir it to motion, and form lenses and antennae to take measurements. It annoyed him that he had a perfect memory, since even the comforting routine of noting in the log the progress of his endless, weightless fall through unhorizoned, infinite space was denied him.

His velocity, relative to the tiny speck of Sol (lost somewhere in the stars of Piscus Austinus) was very near the speed of light. Read the remainder of this entry »

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Lost on the Last Continent, Episode 30, Attack of the Ascenders, is now posted on Patreon.

Episode 30 Attack of the Ascenders

In this exciting episode, the raiders from strange clouds descend upon the Brontosaur caravan. Colonel Lost opens fire. But will he side with his attackers, or with his oppressors? 

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No Atheism Tonight

Posted December 27, 2017 By John C Wright

For both my eager listeners, Max Kolbe and I have decided to take the Twelve Days of Christmas off. We will resume our normal Escaping Atheism podcasts on Wednesday, Jan 3rd of next year.

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Posted December 27, 2017 By John C Wright

Some say that ever ‘gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour’s birth is celebrated,
The bird of dawning singeth all night long:
And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad;
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, no witch has power to charm,
So hallow’d and gracious is the time. –Hamlet

In keeping with the tradition here at John C. Wright’s Journal, I reprint, as I do each year, this list the feasts of the Twelve Days of Christmas, and to urge my fellow traditionalists to continue the Christly and Christian work of Keeping the Feast and Partyin’ On! Let us pause for unsolemn reflection on these solemnities.

We all know the Twelve Days of Christmas from a famous nonsense song about a lady whose true love gives her 184 birds of various types, not to mention 12 fruit trees, 40 golden rings, 106 persons of the various professions either musical or milkmaidenly, and 32 members of the aristocracy variously cavorting.

No doubt you have ever wondered how the lady in the song feeds all the leaping lords and dancing ladies, pipers, drummers, and milkmaids now living in her parlor, the answer is that she feeds them the 22 turtledoves, 30 French hens, 36 colly birds, and 42 swans, not to mention the nice supply of eggs from the geese, milk from the cows and pears from the pear trees.

You may have heard that the lyrics contain a secret meaning, referring to Catholic doctrines or rites forbidden by Oliver Cromwell. This is true. The secret meaning is that the Walrus is St. Paul, and if you listen to a record of the carol backward, it says “Cromwell under his wig is bald.” All this is well known.

What is not as well known is that traditionally, these are twelve days of feasts which start on Christmas Day and run through to Epiphany on January 6th, which is the festival variously of the Adoration of the Magi and the Presentation in the Temple. (Really hard core Christmasteers extend Christmastide 40 days, ending on Candlemas February 2).

Before Christmas, during the season of Advent, while everyone else is shopping and partying, we who keep the traditions fast, pray, do penance, and make ourselves miserable. It makes the holiday much brighter by contrast.

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The Count to Infinity starts today!

Posted December 26, 2017 By John C Wright

Do you yearn for high-concept science fiction on the widest possible scale covering the deeps of time, and the deeper profundities of the human soul? Ready yourself for a prodigal overabundant feast of sheer imagination, each course grander than the last.

The triumphant finale of the Eschaton Sequence, COUNT TO INFINITY, is finally available. In terms of size, scope, and ambition, no book of mine has ever attempted so much nor reached so far.

In the opening scene, Menelaus Montrose knows exactly where he is: betrayed, blasted, beaten, disembodied and left for dead by the villainous Blackie del Azarchel in the ruined hulk of a dead starship racing at relativistic speeds toward intergalactic space, beyond any possible hope of rescue.

And then he discovers the empty ship is haunted …

Montrose loses his mind, finds it again, builds an interplanetary civilization of three artificial species of his own creation, travels across intergalactic distances, sees the singularity leading outside the universe built by the seraphim, smashes into an interstellar energy boundary at near-lightspeed, is kidnapped and enslaved, has his mind deconstructed, and uses his love of Rania to reconstruct himself by sheer willpower and by his own poxy bootstraps drags himself out of a disembodied, electronic hell, and outwits and outfights his oppressors to become the ruler of the star cluster, and of the Milky Way. And then the true battle on a larger scale begins.

Eager to know why the Andromeda Galaxy is on course to collide with Milky Way in two billion years? This is not some random event but a coldblooded war fought between deadly philosophical antagonists, a war where supernovae are weapons, and the nebulae but smoke from the discharges.

In this work, these are merely local and parochial events. In this, the final volume of the cosmos-spanning epic of near and far future, the curious reader will also learn why our universe, at the largest scale, consists of walls and filaments of galactic clusters and superclusters interspersed with enormous voids.

The fate of the one, true Rania is revealed, and the long-awaited final duel between Del Azarchel and Montrose is fought in this volume, and the mysteries of time and eternity are opened.

Buy it today!


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Max Kolbe on Atheists and Indoctrinating Children

Posted December 24, 2017 By John C Wright

You can hear my dulcet tones ranting vociferously about something or other. You are invited to listen to it as part of the penance of Advent. My host makes some good points, though, so you can just fast-forward through my goobledegook to get to what he said. Read the remainder of this entry »

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