Tag: books

Medieval Studies is the critical study of Europe’s self-identity. No understanding of Western civilization is possible without it. Inevitably, Left-wing academics want to introduce gender studies and race theory to the field—and punish those who refuse to conform. When one University of Chicago professor dared to publicly celebrate the Christian identity of the Middle Ages, she was branded a ‘violent fascist’ and ‘white supremacist’ by her colleagues. 

Now Medieval Studies scholars are tearing their own discipline apart with witch-hunts, name-calling, boycotts and intimidation. The damage done to academia could be incalculable. In this influential essay, originally published to widespread online acclaim, New York Times-bestselling author and award-winning journalist Milo Yiannopoulos explains why we should all care about the newest front in the cultural war, the academic battle for the Middle Ages.

Foreword by Professor Mark Bauerlein of Emory University.

MIDDLE RAGES: Why the Battle for Medieval Studies Matters to America is the latest short from Milo Yiannopoulos. It underlines, very clearly, how the culture war against Christianity, Western civilization, and America permeates every single aspect of society, from academia to video games, and how there is no escape from it. MIDDLE RAGES is available in Kindle format from Amazon and in EPUB and Kindle format at Arkhaven Comics.

In his bestselling new book, HOW TO BE POOR, Milo Yiannopoulos explained how his strategy for selecting friends backfired on him:

The sad fact is your friends helped you end up where you are today, just like they did for me.

Even before my rise to intergalactic fame, my life was overflowing with friends and prospective friends desperate to break into my social circle. This exploded as I entered the American stage in full force starting in 2014. My ego, which is larger than several of Jupiter’s moons, convinced me that these people wanted to be my friend because of my stunning looks, dazzling charm, and devotion to defending those without a voice in the mainstream media.

I learned the hard way that I was blinded by vanity. As my stock shot up, the friends I attracted came to me with largely selfish intentions. They wanted to attach themselves to my fame. They wanted to live off my credit cards. Many of them, above all else, simply wanted access and social cachet. They wanted my stamp of approval on their products and services and they wanted their websites shared with my audience. By 2017, as an established superstar in the political world, I attracted more old-fashioned grifters eager to suck money out however they could. Some of the friends I’d gained in recent years converted into this type of monster as well—even some long-term friends from Europe ended up this way. They were all vampires draining my blood bank.

If my life were a horror movie—which it feels like much of the time—the plot would center around me being a carrier of the vampire virus, yet immune to it. Anyone who touched my finances would turn into a heartless monster whose thirst could only be slaked by MILO’s money, and I wouldn’t figure out how to detect these vampires until it was too late. You must admit, me being a disease carrier really lends some credibility to the scenario—whether my haters are on the control-left or the alt-right, they are all convinced by my gravity-defying cheekbones that I am pozzed, which is gay slang for “too poor to buy rubbers and too lazy to go to the clinic.”

In Dangerous, I reflected on the support I received from friends during one of the many times my enemies thought they had killed me. What feels like a million years ago, I wrote: “These have been trying times and I have been tested. There were a few days when I almost gave up on my mission. But thousands of fans reached out, my friends and family had my back, and the people of this world I respect the most kept taking my calls. I couldn’t let you all down. My enemies thought I had been vanquished, that I would go into hiding in the hills of Dartmoor with my dick between my legs like some weak ass pussy faggot. They couldn’t be more wrong. All they’ve done is piss me off.”

That passage has remained true for some of my more recent problems, including my financial fall from grace. For my sincere fans and friends, I thank you for sticking with me, and for purchasing this book. One thing is for sure, going broke absolutely separates those out for a quick buck from one’s actual mates. To understand my relationship with friends, and how it got me into trouble, you have to grasp my system. The old saying goes, “Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold,” which I adapted slightly into my own credo: “Make new friends, then rank them according to their personal qualities and let them fight to earn your favor.”

The end result of following my spreadsheet was a devotion to the worst people in my life. The best-dressed people led me into an arms race of $20,000 handmade jackets and accessories. The troublemakers blew through my money in repair bills. The hard luck cases got cars and rent payments and everything under the sun. The gourmands joined my fabulous (and fabulously expensive) chef’s tables in the finest restaurants. The best looking got all this and more. And I got a top rank of friends, my elite praetorian guard, who disappeared when the money ran out. If only I had tracked “likelihood to turn against MILO at the drop of a hat.”

As a general rule, if you have anything that passes for an “entourage”, there is a high probability you are destined for destitude. The entourage is a descendant of the pagan king and the uncivilized Big Man, where the alpha male’s greatness is measured by his largesse, and it is simply not viable in these days of income and capital gains taxes.

And never mistake an employee for a friend. If you’re paying someone to spend time with you, he is either an employee, a therapist, or a prostitute.

I spoke briefly with John Trent of Bounding Into Comics about Milo’s new book:

Not only is the book for sale on Amazon, but it’s also for sale on Arkhaven Comics’ website given the book was edited by Arkhaven Comics publisher Vox Day.

I got the opportunity to chat with Vox about the book and he lauded it’s usefulness and noted it “underlines the importance of self-responsibility.”

BIC: The book is described as a guide for people who have been deplatformed, do you expect it be common reading in the near future as social media platforms continue to ban people for writing things like “learn to code?”

Vox: “I think HOW TO BE POOR will be useful for anyone who finds themselves in difficult circumstances, even those that are not necessarily related to poverty. Milo’s book is surprisingly stoic and underlines the importance of self-responsibility even when those circumstances are beyond one’s control. But I think HOW TO BE POOR will be very popular, and indeed, the Kindle version is already an Amazon bestseller in all of its categories, because the subject matter is so relevant to an increasing number of people these days. And, of course, because it’s hilarious.”

Read the whole interview there to see what is coming next for Milo.

We’re very pleased to be able to say that HOW TO BE POOR by Milo Yiannopoulos is now available in paperback from Castalia Direct. It’s a pocket-sized 96-page edition that retails for $9.99, although international readers should note that this direct service is only available in the USA at this time. You may wish to consider saving some shipping and picking up an Arkhaven comic or two while you’re at it.

Never mind the “No Image Available” graphic. We get through their system so fast now that the metadata can require a day or three to keep up. The cover is the same as the one displayed here. International readers should note that the paperback will be available on Amazon and other online booksellers within a week or two.

Speaking of Amazon, after an extensive review process, Amazon KDP has finally deigned to publish the Kindle edition, which is now available on Amazon for $2.99. Please to enjoy all the inevitable fake reviews from Milo-haters who wouldn’t even read the book for the schadenfreude.

And if you’re a Kindle reader who is now planning to head over to Amazon, don’t miss the chance to pick up a copy of AH:Q #1, which is already the #1 New Release in the Mystery and Superhero categories!

UPDATE: Already a multi-category bestseller!

Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #4,469 #844
#1 in 90-Minute Self-Help Short Reads
#1 in Aesthetics
#1 in Philosophy Aesthetics

Corrosion (The Corroding Empire, Book One)

Written by Johan Kalsi and narrated by: Jon Mollison. 7 hours 3 minutes. DRM-free ebook included in both Kindle and Epub formats.

Galactic society is ruled by algorithms. From interstellar travel and planetary terraforming to artificial intelligence and agriculture, every human endeavor has become completely dependent upon the hypercomplex equations that optimize the activities making life possible across hundreds of inhabited worlds. Throughout the galaxy, Man has become dependent upon the reliable operation of 10 million different automated systems.

And when things begin to go wrong and mysterious accidents begin to happen no one has any idea what is happening, except for a sentient medical drone and the First Technocrat of Continox. But their ability to even begin to try fixing the unthinkably complicated problem of galaxy-wide algorithmic decay is made considerably more difficult by the fact the former is an outlaw and the latter is facing a death sentence.

Johan Kalsi is Finland’s hottest science fiction author. An accomplished geneticist as well as a 6’3″ ex-Finnish Marine, in Corrosion, Kalsi shows himself to be more Asimovian than Asimov himself. Corrosion marks his English-language debut.


Jaggis was unsurprised when he was permitted to take his customary seat in the center of his colleagues, as it may as well have been the witness stand. All eyes were on him. There was an audience in attendance; the room was packed, almost entirely with media.

He wondered if he would be thrown to the mercy of the Human League immediately or if the process would be drawn out. A part of him wished they would simply get the business over with quickly, and without requiring him to participate in the charade.

As he expected, the Third and Fifth Technocrats were running the show. Although Rikker-Smythe was nominally presiding—he wore the sparkling digital sash that had hitherto been Jaggis’s prerogative as First Technocrat—one could see by the way he looked to Harraf and St. Asko for approval that appealing to his common sense would be fruitless. Did the Human League have something on the Second Technocrat? Or was it simply his natural weakness of character permitting the two predatory politicians to dominate him?

He shrugged. It didn’t matter now. What he needed to know was if Harraf was merely attempting to unseat him or if he had more nefarious intentions. He found it difficult to believe that either man was a genuine Humanist, but the fact that he’d been arrested on the same day as the assassination attempt smacked of St. Asko’s meticulous, belt-and-suspenders approach to life.

“As the initial order of business, it falls to me, as Second Technocrat, to ask the First Technocrat to recuse himself from this discussion,” Rikker-Smythe said. He sounded authoritative, he looked authoritative, with his thick white hair and patrician features, but Jaggis knew the noble appearance was misleading. The Second Technocrat was a junior officer in an admiral’s body, and had made a career of successfully shying away from all responsibility. “It would not be appropriate for him to participate in this discussion, as he is to be its subject.”

“If he’s the subject, he’s going to have to participate, Mikke!” The Eighth Technocrat, a fleshy New Tejan, cracked, but subsided when Harraf glared at him.

“Well, I mean to say, he cannot participate as a participant-”

“Oh, for Space’s sake!” Harraf broke in. “I move that Caden Jaggis be temporarily stripped of his seat on the Council while the matter of his alleged criminal negligence concerning the growing incidence of algorithmic decay throughout Continox.”

“Seconded,” St. Asko said, barely beating three others who echoed him.

“It’s not necessary,” Jaggis said quietly.

“What’s that?” Rikker-Smythe asked.

“I will recuse myself from the Council today in order to permit the consideration of my actions, so long as they are limited to this specific accusation of criminal negligence under Statue 245.856, subsection 28b.”

Rikker-Smythe looked at Harraf, who looked thoughtful before glancing quickly at St. Asko, who gave no sign of acceptance or approval. Harraf nodded, and Rikker-Smythe cleared his throat. “The First Technocrat has graciously offered to recuse himself from our deliberations, therefore I shall preside until such time as he resumes his duties or a new First Technocrat is named.”

The latter looked to be a much more likely proposition, Jaggis thought. But would it be Harraf or St. Asko who would replace him? Was it the taciturn Fifth Technocrat who was the real force behind this, and not his openly ambitious colleague?

“I will now open the floor to questions, in order of precedence. Tech Harraf, you may proceed.”

“Thank you, Tech Rikker-Smythe.” Harraf nodded to the Second Technocrat and flashed him an obsequious smile. “And I should like to, if I may, commend the way you have handled this unfortunate situation with the utmost fairness to all the parties involved.”

Jaggis sighed and tried not to roll his eyes as Rikker-Smythe beamed and murmured some self-deprecatory nonsense. He really should have done a better job of promoting stronger allies on the Council; all the Second Technocrat really wanted was to be petted by his colleagues and admired by the public. Harraf’s shameless flattery was rendering the man as pliable as molten plastic.

“Now,” said Harraf staring down his long, elegant nose at Jag. “How long have you been aware of the potential problem of algorithmic decay?”

“In theory or in practice?”

“In theory.”

“Twenty-five years.” Jaggis knew they were expecting a denial, or at least an evasion, and smiled at their murmurs. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of going through the pointless drama of pinning him down. “We’ve all known it was at least a potential problem since the Curbotron Incident. No one really took the theory seriously at the time, but it’s a matter of public record. I expect even you might have come across the concept at a cocktail party on occasion, Mellam.”

The Third Technocrat flashed his white teeth again, but there was death in his eyes. Like most politicians, he bitterly resented any suggestion that he owed his place more to his networking skills than his technical expertise. But he kept his cool.

“Twenty-five years,” he replied calmly. “You’ve known about the problem for twenty-five years. And when did you begin to investigate the subject?”

“About three months ago.”

“And would you say algorithmic decay is a trivial problem, a significant problem, or a major problem?”

“I would say it is somewhere between a planetary catastrophe and an existential threat to the species.”

His statement was met by was considerably more murmuring and shifting of seats on the part of the councilors. But the audience was even more affected, as there were gasps and inadvertent outcries on the part of those watching who had been hitherto unaware of the situation.

“What measures have you taken to in an attempt to address the problem?”

“None,” Jaggis answered Harraf. “And you, Mellam, what have you done.”

Harraf glared at Rikker-Smythe, who harrumphed and intervened.

“Tech Jaggis, you will address the Member of the Council as Technocrat or Tech Harraf.”

“Very well, let me rephrase that. What have you done, Technocrat?”

Harraf gestured and rows of figures began to spill across the huge screen behind him. “I took the initiative to establish a full research investigation of the problem, an investigation that you initially deemed unnecessary, ignored, and eventually, stifled.”

“I did nothing of the kind!” Jaggis couldn’t help raising his voice.

Harraf smiled coldly and gestured again. Jaggis heard his own voice, declaring in his own words, that algodecay was not real, that there was no need to do any research into it, and that the very idea it was real was likely the product of a diseased mind. It was a recording of one of his early conversations with Servo, and Jaggis winced as he heard the arrogance and disdain that fairly dripped from his voice.

“Wait, I can explain–”

“The Council has obtained a quantity of your written communications in which you repeatedly state similar opinions, despite the best efforts of various parties to bring the issue to your attention, Mr. Jaggis. Is it necessary for us to read them out loud or do you admit to obstructing efforts to research the causes and consequences of algorithimic decay?”

“I… it’s not quite…”

“Are the allegations true or not, Mr. Jaggis!” Harraf was insistent.

“They are true,” Jaggis said reluctantly, knowing he had no choice but to admit as much. And they were true, he had to admit. But his words were being taken out of context! Surely the other Technocrats had to understand that.

Now that Castalia House is free to sell our audiobooks our own way, we’re going to be putting up extended audio samples on the Darkstream for your listening pleasure. In, today’s case, it’s a pair of particularly funny chapters that appear in succession in the extended audio sample of The Promethean by Owen Stanley. Rather than simple putting up the prologue or the first chapter, we’re seeking to provide a discrete element of the book that can be enjoyed in its own right, even if the listener doesn’t proceed to purchase the entire book in one form or another.

Both The Missionaries and The Promethean are now available in audiobook+ at the Arkhaven store. You might suspect that I am exaggerating when I say that they are two of the funniest satirical novels ever published. And you would be absolutely and utterly wrong. Narrator Gabrielle Miller also does a wonderful job of conveying the literary humor in her unique Australian accent.

From The Promethean:

They went off in Fortescue’s Range Rover to The Drunken Badger, an old pub nearby with a mouldy green thatched roof that was the local meeting spot and had been kept for years by the genial Ken with fat Shirley his wife. Fortescue offered to stand Harry a pint of beer, but when Harry surveyed the range of drinks available, his heart sank. There was no prosecco, no white wine, indeed, no wine of any kind, as the pub had for generations stocked only local ales, the favourite of which was Old Stinker. However different palates were known to prefer Smoking Dog, Swine Snout, Wife Beater, or even Holy Terror, the most alcoholic.

This was made from a traditional recipe inherited from the local monks before Henry VIII destroyed their abbey nearby, and was notable for producing some very unmonkish behaviour. The label of Swine Snout depicted a farmyard dominated by a large manure pile, in which assorted pigs were busily rooting, and Smoking Dog was advertised by a hairy monster with very large teeth smoking a pipe. Wife Beater is perhaps best left undescribed. As he surveyed these relics of the Dark Ages, Harry groaned inwardly. Was an ice-cold Budweiser really too much for a civilised man to expect in a presumably industrialised nation?

Shirley informed Ken that the American gentleman was asking about Budweiser. Ken scratched his head and said he thought he had seen a can somewhere only recently.

“I know you was rummaging around in your shed looking for rat poison the other day,” said Shirley. “Could it have been there?”

Ken went off to look and came back with a filthy old can that had been put up on a shelf with the weedkiller and lawn fertiliser in the garden shed long ago. Ken washed it off under the tap in the bar.

“Not in a very good state, I’m afraid. Must’ve been there for years, ever since Don used to run this place. We had some Americans stationed at the airfield back then. But you’re welcome to it. Glad it’s found an ’ome at last,” pouring it into a glass. “We won’t charge you for that. On the ’ouse.”

Harry pretended to be grateful for the warm and rather odd-tasting relic of the Budweiser brewery and thought that Swine Snout might have been preferable. A local inhabitant, dressed in what looked like greased sacking, had just brought his old, wet, and shaggy dog in with him, which was now sitting under the table. Harry noticed the brown stains on the grubby carpet and wondered if they had any connection with the rather unpleasant odour that seemed to be coming from the direction of the dog.

Charles asked Harry what he would like for lunch, and Ken passed them the menu, a sheet of greasy plastic covering a crudely typed list of local delicacies. At the top of the list were pigs’ trotters and then tripe and onions, blackbird pie, jellied eels, boiled calf’s head, deep-fried pigs’ ears, brains in white sauce, ox tail fritters, and bull’s testicle soup as the pièce-de-résistance. Everything, apparently, came with chips and gravy, except the bull’s testicle soup which had mushy peas as a side order.

Shuddering, Harry asked what tripe might be.

“Ah, that’s real delicious,” said Shirley, “a nice tender piece of sheep’s stomach—more flavour than cow’s stomach—but the pigs’ ears are very tasty as well.”

Despair seized him, and for a moment he actually found himself wishing for a McDonald’s. But then, like an island of sanity in a sea of madness, Harry suddenly noticed pork pie at the bottom of the menu and said he would really like some of that.

“A very good choice,” said Ken. “That’ll be old Percy. We only slaughtered’n t’other day. If you’d’a been ’ere then, you’d’ve ’eard’n squealin’. Summat terribul t’were. Still, ’e makes a right tasty pie, no mistake about that.”

Good God, was there no end to these rural horrors, thought Harry.

Having successfully extricated JORDANETICS: A Journey Into the Mind of Humanity’s Greatest Thinker from Kindle Select, we are now able to offer it as an audiobook+, which means that you can acquire both the audiobook and the ebook in two formats from Arkhaven for $14.99.

Two recent reviews by people who have actually read the book:

Systematic breakdown of Peterson’s core ideas and assessment of his character

Notice how the 1-star reviewers are claiming jealousy on Vox Day’s part in order to dismiss his systematic breakdown of Peterson, instead of pointing out any factual errors. They behave exactly like the very SJWs they criticize, who bring emotional accusations to logical conversations.

If you pay attention, reviews by verified purchases are almost unanimously 5-star, while the vast majority of bad reviews are by people who haven’t bought Jordanetics, much less read it. You can’t review something you’ve never read, because that’s not what the word ‘review’ means. But Peterson himself could very well argue, “Well, it depends on what you mean by review, eh”. So maybe this is the Petersonian tactic of redefining commonly used words to make a ludicrous position seem reasonable, which Vox Day exposes beautifully in Jordanetics.

Vox Day’s critiques of Peterson in Jordanetics are extremely methodical and clear, and peppered with a healthy dose of humor. He uses Peterson’s own words as the basis of his attack, analyzes the very sources that Peterson himself cites as the foundation for his claims, then shows you step-by-step how Peterson has twisted the original meaning of his sources to fit narratives that are wildly inconsistent with the sources themselves. And that’s just scratching the surface of what Vox Day breaks down throughout the book. Anyone who says Vox is making anything other than a clear, logic-based attack on Peterson, doesn’t see the obvious irony that Vox’s language and method is far more clear and concise than Peterson’s ambiguous and foggy ramblings.

Then again, should Peterson’s followers be expected to recognize such irony when they follow a man who claims to tell the truth, while arguing there is no such thing as objective truth? Who says Europeans should abandon basic in-group preference while defending the extremist in-group preference of another group? Who acts like a champion of free speech while de-platforming speakers like Faith Goldy? Who speaks against Communism while covering every wall in his house with realist paintings of Bolsheviks? Who says you should never cave to a Leftist mob, then at a critical moment in our Republic, says Kavanaugh should cave to a Leftist mob because of feelings? Who practices psychology while consuming psychotropic drugs for decades?

Well, it depends on what you mean by irony, bucko.

JBP has dreams…

I have to say, Jordan Peterson had me going for a while. I’d heard rumors and decided to dig a little deeper. I found this book, and jordan’s magic spell was broken. The troubling part was discovering how easily I was fooled. Here’s how:. Vox outlines how Jordan Peterson will give a title that sets the tone, and then go full into ” Baffle Garble” where he casts a myst of nonsense where he loses you…and because you’re desperately trying to find the point of what he is saying, you’ll project and “fill in the blanks” and make yourself feel content with the message “YOU heard.” This is why if you ask any of JBP’s fans to explain ANY of the rules in “12 rules for life” you’ll get a curious range of answers.

Vox sums up nicely that JBP mostly appeals to the “bottom of the barrel” and lures them into both Mediocrity and Compliance (See the chapter titled “Why Won’t You Just Take Your Damn Pills” in 12 Rules for Life). As a funny, yet disturbing bonus, we discover that Peterson has dreams about “ravishing” his female cousin, as well as his grandmother rubbing her vagina on his face….totally serious here…JBP is a real Loon. I hope you enjoy the wakeup call from Vox, and don’t shoot the messenger. Instead, do as I did and kick yourself for being lured in with Peterson’s nonsense.

I never, ever, thought the Harry Potter books were destined to become classics. This commenter at Castalia House gets it:

I started reading Harry Potter in 2004. I devoured the 5 books in less than 6 months, and followed the release of the last two books. Harry Potter was the fever of my teenage years. What I think made me like HP was not exactly the characters themselves, but the universe created by JKR. I liked to imagine myself inside that universe, being a witch like Harry and studying at Hogwarts.

Of course, as a teenager, I knew very little about other fantasy works and literary classics, so back then I really believed that Harry Potter was a genius story and JKR was the best writer in the world. Today I recognize that this is far from being true. JKR’s characters are mostly shallow, static and stereotyped. Voldemort is part of the villain trope I least like, an irremediable psychopath who was born evil and died evil, remaining eternally static, and without any trace of humor. There are villains who are irremediable but at least they have a vein of great humor, like Joker. Voldemort is nothing like that.

In addition, I think JKR made some bad decisions and wasted a lot of interesting characters on the books. I’ve always found it a shame she’d never delved into such treacherous characters as Wormtail / Peter and for example. Traitorous characters can make great stories, but instead of going into a story of redemption, she decides to put him in the shadows of the story with a death so irrelevant that it does not even appear in the film’s adaptation. Game of Thrones does a much better job with Theon Greyjoy for example, giving him more prominence and a arc of his own.

Talking about her bad decisions… I never liked JKR’s decision to make Ginny be Mrs. Potter. In a universe where we have unique and fantastic female characters like Luna and Hermione, why did JKR make Ginny the Mrs. Potter? The romance between Harry and Ginny was poorly written in the books, and extremely cringeworthy to watch in theaters. They make the most insipid and generic pair of literature, IMO. Luna Lovegood would was the best choice for Harry’s romantic pair, imo. Or if Harry finished the story with no one, it would not be bad either. I just think Ginny / Harry was hideous.

I’m not saying that the HP series is horrible and unimportant. Quite the contrary, it was part of my adolescence and in a way, it is nostalgic. The fact is… the Harry Potter books lose more and more appeal to me every time I revisit them, and today, I do not feel like reading them any more.

Rowling’s one skill was creating vivid and compelling characters. But that’s not enough to create a classic capable of withstanding the erosion of time.