Site Update: Articles Will Be Sparser As TLC ramps up production on new e-book

Greetings and salutations, dear reader. If you have been following the site for some time you will know that I have published one e-book previously (which you can obtain free, here) with the intention of releasing more in the future. Our first original content ebook, Defamation Factory: The Sordid History of the ADL, will shortly be released here on the site. Naturally, the work has required a substantial amount of research and contemplation and has subsequently eaten up a good deal of time. Therefore, articles will be published with slightly diminished frequency until the book is released.

Defamation Factory Cover

Thank you, as always, for your patronage and readership.

Cheers.

K.E. – administrator

Riddick, Patriarchy & Modern Masculinity

[Contains spoilers]

From his very first scene in Pitch Black one understands Riddick as a feral, disturbed individual. Animalistic in his lust for both sex and blood. Ruthless in his dispatchment of anyone who would seek to impede him from whatever it is he pleases to do. In the beginning narration of Pitch Black‘s sequel, Chronicles of Riddick, we are explicitly told that Riddick isn’t just bad, but evil; what the character tells us himself through his own inner monologue seems to fall in line with the presupposition that he isn’t exactly fond of humanity.

[upon being forced to return to civilization]

“So now it’s back to the brightness… and everything I hate.” 

Implying of course that he hates civilization. In the third installment of the film series, simply titled, Riddick, our titular protagonist/antagonist says,

Somewhere along the way, I lost a step. I got sloppy. Dulled my own edge. Maybe I went and did the worst crime of all… I got civilized.

A murderer, a (suggested, though never stated) rapist, a misanthropist and stalwart enemy of all that is orderly and lawful. Clearly, Riddick is not a particularly amiable individual. But even despite these flaws the character is widely beloved, particularly by men – how can this be?

To answer the question we must turn our attention to the way that men are treated in modern day civilization (here we will confine our attention to the primary audience of the films – the Western industrialized nations). With the rise of numerous factors, including feminism and critical theory, a general idea has pervaded the western nations, chiefly that since men are the primary drivers of political conflict (which is true), they should be denatured, that is, stripped of any and all masculine attributes. Not only that, but additionally, men – those damnable patriarchs – must, wholesale, give up their place at the head of the table of civilization and cede all hitherto obtained status and characteristics to women. In this way, the beast that resides within the souls of Man is caged and glorious and caring Woman takes the helm to right the sinking ship. This is bad for two primary reasons (though many more as well), namely: 1. women and men willfully weakening the character and even the very spiritual nature of their male kith and kin will, if successful, leave them horribly vulnerable to those other nations and countries who have maintained their warrior ethos and their, dare I say, patriarch structures. 2. Perhaps even more fundamentally, it is psychologically – and thus, physically – damaging for young men to be, at every turn, denied both accept and outlet for their masculine natures.

Naturally, it should not be assumed that this is problem which all men face – one should not allow one’s self to descend into hysterical hyperbole on these matters like many segments of the MGTOW movement – and doubtless, many young men get along just fine, able to resist the increasingly shrill daggering of the matriarchal pulpit-pounders and genderqueer crusaders. That being said, for those whom it does effect, it imparts a soul-crushing malaise.

The Riddick series, and the character himself, it is my contention, achieved their popularity because they maintain and uphold the tradition of the warrior ethos, that is, the man who, rather than fleeing from his selfsame masculinity embraces it in a attempt to harness its effervescent energy. He is a man who will go to any length to protect both himself and all those whom he holds dear. He is also a conqueror and leader of men who agrees with the ethic of the Necromongers, the theocratic, galaxy conquering, principal antagonists of Chronicles, “You keep what you kill.” At the end of Chronicles Riddick himself ascends to the throne of the Necromongers and becomes their equivalent of Caesar, The Grand Marshal.

Just like other popular characters, such as James Bond, Riddick is also quite popular with the ladies (whether or not they, themselves, admit it – they usually don’t). In the films, his effectiveness with the opposite sex comes – in both friendship and sex – comes from both his domineering, take-charge attitude (which most women find, to some degree extremely appealing; especially given such behaviors increasing rarity) as well as his extremely protective nature (when one of his female compatriots is imprisoned, in the second film in the series, he travels across the galaxy to break her out of a massive underground prison-complex on a planet that is so hot that, even should a prisoner escape the complex, he or she would be evaporated upon reaching the surface – now that’s dedication!). In the third film in the series, Riddick, such a show is made of Riddick’s sexual prowess that he even manages to woo a gruff-yet-beautiful no-nonsense lesbian whose personal creedo is, “I don’t fuck men. I fuck them up occasionally if they need it.” It is a rather silly convention but the lack of heavy-handed sexual politics within the franchise was imminently refreshing, especially since nearly every major film features some kind of Mary Sue.

Riddick’s antisocial nature and odd, glowing eyes (which allow him to see perfectly in the dark) offers wide appeal to those men who feel socially isolated and unable to actuate their own potential. Riddick is a survivalist who is so self-sufficient that he (generally) does not even require the slightest modicum of help to achieve his ends. He braves a frozen world so far-flung that it receives only a numerical designation (you can always tell in sci-fi films whether or not a planet is important to the plot by whether or not it is named – if it just has a bunch of numbers in place of name one knows instantly it isn’t very important), with nothing but a pair of knives, the clothes on his back and his googles, he survives a desert planet teeming with ferocious, venomous monsters; he escapes from every cell into which he is thrown and pays back his captors, two-fold. It would seem that there is no corner of the universe and no threat, he will not fling himself unto with steely abandon. Indeed, such are his virtues that, were Riddick a more sociable and less wrathful and petulant individual, he might well have become a great leader of men (if he were a man – he is member of an ancient, alien species called Furyans).

Such a archetype (similar to, say, the Punisher or, The Man With No Name) allows a outlet for pent-up male frustration – what virile young man, after all, would not wish to be able to sally forth around the galaxy, would not wish to be able to effortlessly live off the land of even the most dead and hostile of plants, would not wish to be able to be so alluring in their patriarchal splendor that even the most ardent of lesbians want to share their bed? Very few. Hence the popularity among men. The characters popularity among women can be found in simply revisiting what I previously wrote; for most women, whatever they might say, are looking for a man who will take charge, take control and who will expend every last ounce of energy and power to look after and protect her (as was the case with the character of Kyra from the first and second films in the franchise).

Despite what the characters in the film series say, Riddick is not evil as he does not seek to cause needless suffering. He is merely a man, ruthless and powerful, who has absolutely no respect for weakness, a man who understands, to perfection, the natural and inescapable laws of human order – that women need men like men need women; that violence is inevitable and best prepared for; that the strong may rule the weak, but that the clever rule the strong.

Update: Logos Anthology Part 2 In Works

Regular readers may have seen that we have complied a free ebook of some of our best past writing. Shortly, a second volume will be added focusing solely on political/aesthetic manifestos, many of which will be unique to the book and will not have been previously published on the site.

In the coming months the Logos Club will be ramping up its efforts at hard-copy (paper & pulp) publication and *may* begin offering hard-copy books in limited quantity.

As always, thank you for your patronage and happy reading.

Logos Anthology: Free e-book

The Logos Club proudly presents a collection of some of our finest choice writing featuring: Kaiter Enless, Cygnus-X, Gio Pennacchietti & Joel Hyduke. Re-distributing or altering the contents of this anthology will result in immediate manly challenge and a subsequent duel at ten paces.

Click the link below to receive the book and many thanks for your kindly patronage.

Official Logos Club Anthology, Part One

 

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas and happy Yule tidings!

I’d like to wish all of my readers the very best this season and in the year to come. Thank you, also, for your continued readership. The site is growing much quicker and garnering far more views than I would ever have anticipated. Several new writers will soon be joining the LC line-up, so the year ahead strikes me as most promising.

So have a wonderful holiday season and a very, very happy new year!

FILM REVIEW – LE SAMORUAI

Spoiler warning.

[Editor’s note: This article was previously published to my personal blog, thus if you have already read it there and recall it’s contents you might wish to skip it. Thank you for reading.]

If formalism was gold Jean-Pierre Melville might have just been the richest filmmaker to ever live and none of his works more aptly demonstrates this than the cold, calculated crime classic Le Samourai. Though the film is now hailed as a masterpiece (so much so that it has been adopted into the Criterion Collection – which you should check out) this wasn’t always so; indeed when the film was first released there was a great divide between critics, one praising, the other side decrying. It is easy to see why; minimalist to the extreme, there isn’t any dialogue until about ten minutes into the film.

The plot is generic and straightforward, Jef Costello (portrayed with immaculate, eerie reserve by a young Alain Delon), a mysterious hit-man, is contracted to kill the owner of a popular, ritzy Parisian nightclub. He does so but is caught in the act by the establishment’s pianist, she says nothing when questioned but the police aren’t convinced. His alibi is air-tight, too air-tight. When the criminal organization whom contracted him realizes that he might be ousted they turn against him; putting out a hit on the hit-man. The rest of the film is a cat and mouse game between the police, the crime syndicate and Jef.

This sounds rather uninspired and somewhat bland but when you see the film you will realize it isn’t so much the plot itself as it’s execution, that really stands out. Details are the overlords of this film, from Jef’s seeming pathological perfectionism (ever straightening the brim of his hat just so and always ritualistically putting on white gloves before a kill) to the tight, glacially paced camera work and immaculate and strangely barren landscapes. The fact that I was never once confused within the film, even when near fifteen minutes go by without a single piece of dialogue, is a testament to the director’s mastery of the medium. We have it easy these days, what with Michael Caine ever popping up and banging on and on about the plot, page after page of heavy handed exposition (I swear Caine is in everything these days and always as nothing more than a exposition vessel). It is as if Hollywood believes that their public is so stupid that they can’t go ten minutes without the writer holding their hand through the events there unfolding.

More than being a mere highly stylized aesthetic exercise or ruminations on crime character study (both of which it certainly is) the film posits a view of life from the point of view of a dreamscape that is, in my opinion, exceedingly admirable. Here I’m talking about Jef the not quite human, the dream’s fell harvester. He has no fear of death, indeed he seems as inexplicably drawn to it as to the pianist who spared him. In one scene a man sticks a gun in the samurai’s face and Jef not only doesn’t flinch but then promptly bitch slaps his foe to the ground (with such banal ease that it always makes me chuckle). He also is emotionally aloof; in one of the character’s early establishing shots he is driving down a abandoned street (it seems all the streets of Le Samourai are ever abandoned which adds a unearthly, surreal vibe as if to say “This isn’t real, would you want it to be?”) and stops at a sign. A beautiful woman pulls up beside him and smiles flirtatiously, he looks at her as if she were just another signpost along the way and then icily returns to his work. Another scene has him caressed by a woman who is so madly in love with him that she’s willing to take the fall for complicity in his crimes if it came to that; he merely looks away, disinterested in her romantic overtures. He also kills without compunction – His first assassination scene has always been one of the comic highlights of the film to me:

Club Owner: Who are you?

Jef: Doesn’t matter.

Club Owner: What do you want?

Jef: To kill you.

Delon says this last line with such drab flatness that the subsequent gunshots which blast the club owner into oblivion are both jarringly horrifying and completely hilarious. But that could just be me. Either way the scene is indicative of Jef’s amorality – but is he a sociopath? My answer is no – he kills because he is paid (he says as much himself) and, more simply, because he’s good at it. He’s almost elemental in that regard (much like his arch-nemesis, the enigmatic art collector-gangster, Oliver Rey {played by Jean-Pierre Posier}). He’s not so much evil as he is beyond humanity, similar to Nietzsche’s Ubermensch (without all the effusiveness). He also isn’t without principals – indeed there seems to be nothing more important to him than his principals (which he describes as his “habits”). This shows that so dedicated is he to these principals that they have become second nature, instinctive but not dogmatic. He also isn’t without compassion, for though it would have been easy for him to let his accomplice take the fall he sacrifices himself instead (though this is also likely due in part to his seeming obsession with the nature of death and a understanding of it’s inevitability). This non-moralizing, distanced self overcoming is, when taken in gestalt, a cohesive philosophy and one which holds, for me at least, as much amusement as wisdom.

le-samoura-56605c73b4213.jpg
Jef, fatalistically fearless in the face of a confederate assassin.

The film doesn’t preach, it doesn’t paint it’s characters as good or bad, the characters do that. It doesn’t posit fate or tell you that everything is going to be fine or that everything is terrible and that it always will be. It is as pragmatic and logical as it’s protagonist’s tactics and, to me, immensely inspiring.

A final word of parting: I highly recommend the Criterion Collection version of this film, expensive as it is – well worth the money for the pristine restoration.

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Russian Ambassador Assassinated By Mysterious Gunman

Karlov’s killer, pointing skyward.

Russia’s ambassador to Turkey, Andrei Karlov, has been shot dead in an art gallery in Ankara’s Center For Contemporary Arts in Turkey. The assassin, a young, swarthy man dressed in a black suit, shouted, “Allahu Akbar!” and then pointed to Karlov, shouting, “We die in Aleppo, you die here,” in Turkish.

The gunman then gestured towards the crowd and pointed skyward, flying into a frothing tirade in Turkish which has yet to be translated. Police promptly responded, in force, and quickly dispatched of the assassin, shouting him dead. It is theorized that he was a Muslim radical who killed Karlov as revenge for the deaths in Aleppo (Russian being Syria’s most powerful and influential ally).

What is most unfortunate, aside from Mr. Karlov’s death, about the affair was the fact that it occurred just days before Vladimir Putin was set to hold a conference on the chaos surrounding Syria’s civil war. Putin has called for a emergency meeting in the wake of his countryman’s untimely death.

You can see the video here [the content is quite graphic]: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HSNZb5PH-9s

  • editor’s note: The assassin has since been identified as a 22 yr. old police officer named Mevlut Mert Altintas

Follow Kaiter online here: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC9uNRn0dBe77lIXFLR7v5pA