The Announcement of Announcements

Posted January 11, 2018 By John C Wright

Other writers receive congratulations for winning statuettes as awards. Mrs. Wright and I have an even deeper cause for congratulation, and an even finer award. Two of our fans, who then became friends, have now become a couple. After professing his undying love, the young man plighted his troth to the young lady.

How many writers cause wedding engagements? Study with starry eyes the photos above and below of the moment after the engagement. She said yes.  Read the remainder of this entry »

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Lost on the Last Continent, Episode 32, Truce and Dementia

Posted January 10, 2018 By John C Wright

Lost on the Last Continent, Episode 32, Truce and Dementia, is now posted on Patreon.

Episode 32 Truce and Dementia

In this exciting episode, Colonel Lost risks his life on two propositions: the brotherhood of man, and the impossibility of coincidences. 

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Flakes, Snowflakes, Escaping Atheism

Posted January 10, 2018 By John C Wright

Escaping Atheism to discuss the Snowflakery of modern Atheists, who cannot tolerate to share a world with Christians, lest we challenge their house-of-cards world view, cause sudden thought, and provoke a brain aneurysm.

Atheists of old could hold their booze, hold a conversation, and hold their own in debate, at least on some points. Modern Atheists? Not so much.

Join us! Leave comments!

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Timescales in the Eschaton Sequence

Posted January 9, 2018 By John C Wright

As a young reader, I remember poring with fascination over by the timelines appearing in appendices to Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien, THE WORM OUROBOROS by E.R. Eddison, and especially the immense scales of the timelines appearing in LAST AND FIRST MEN and STARMAKER by Olaf Stabledon.

As a writer, my fascination has not ebbed, and I found I needed a detailed set of timelines to make sure I made no simple errors of years, centuries, and millennia.

Here follow the timelines for the Eschaton Sequence. An abbreviated copy of this list appears in the appendices of COUNT TO INFINITY.

— — — ——————– —- ——————– — — —

Read the remainder of this entry »

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Love Crimes and Hate Crimes

Posted January 8, 2018 By John C Wright

Milo Yiannopoulos’ DANGEROUS website, for reasons, so they reassure me, that are no reflection on my writing, have suspended my column there, temporarily, or so they hope.

Here is last week’s column. This topic I thought too topical to let rest, and so I publish it here. It is saltier (less G-rated) than my normal writing here, so proceed at your own risk.   Read the remainder of this entry »

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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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