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A Sky Without Eagles Shirt

Danger Press printed up a run of t-shirts using the image from the cover of my book of essays, A Sky Without Eagles.

Some of you have the t-shirts and prints (see my framed one above) that they did for The Way of Men, so you know that the shirts are really high-quality, they fit well, and the printing is top-notch.

I approached the guys at Danger Press about doing a run of these because so many readers told me that the TWOM t-shirts were conversation-starters.

The octopus illustration symbolizes the perversion of the Great Seal of the United States from an “eagle” to an all-seeing, creeping police state Leviathan.

They’re on sale just in time for Independence Day.

I’m not selling these myself — get yours from Danger Press for $24.99 plus shipping.

A Sky Without Eagles

A Sky Without Eagles, collection of my best essays and speeches from the last four years, can now be purchased in hardcover at, Barnes and Noble, and possibly other online retailers. Using the ISBN number, most brick-and-mortar booksellers should be able to order it.

I published this collection because many readers requested a printed edition of my online work for their bookshelves. It’s a collection for collectors.

The title speech, “A Sky Without Eagles,” was given to a private audience, so it will be new to all but a few. Some of the essays included in the book were published years ago at sites that are no longer online, so they will be new to most. I also wrote three new essays specifically for this book.

The cover image represents the creeping, all-seeing, all-controlling leviathan replacing the bald eagle — a symbol of freedom and independent strength that is no longer an appropriate symbol for the American surveillance state.

A t-shirt of the “state octopus” is in the works from Danger Press.

Table of Contents

  • Preface
  • Violence Is Golden
  • A Sky Without Eagles (Speech Transcript – NEW)
  • Anarcho-Fascism
  • Mighty White
  • Vote With Your Ass
  • The Grievance Table
  • There Is No Honor In Competition With Women
  • Mother May I? Masculinity
  • Draw The Line
  • Everyone A Harlot
  • Train For Honor (NEW)
  • The Physical Challenge (NEW)
  • Principles of Convenience
  • The Manly Barbarian
  • Becoming The New Barbarians (Speech Transcript)
  • CROM! (NEW)
  • The Brotherhood (NEW)

Available Formats


A Sky Without Eagles (Hardcover)170 Pages, cloth-bound. Matte finish dust jacket.

ISBN-10: 0985452331.

ISBN-13: 978-0985452339

List Price: $35.00.

Buy now on Amazon.

Autographed copies will be available for $45 including shipping within the Continental US only.  Orders to foreign countries, Hawaii, and Alaska will be refunded. (Shipping with tracking outside the US is very expensive)

To order a signed, hardcover copy of A Sky Without Eagles, please use the link below. Please allow 4-6 weeks for delivery (I have to have them shipped to me, first). I will be happy to dedicate your copy to you or to anyone you designate using the field below.

Signed and Dedicated Hardcover Edition of A Sky Without Eagles

$45 ( incl shipping & handling to continental US only)

Personalized Dedication (name)



Mp3 Audiobook

ASWE---Audiobook-CoverA podcast-style audiobook reading of each essay by author Jack Donovan, including two “live” tracks from public speeches.

PDF with hyper-linked table of contents included with ZIP file download.


Download direct from e-junkie.

Add to Cart


Advance Praise for A Sky Without Eagles


“I loved reading “Violence is Golden”. It was provocative and inspiring. I enjoyed it so much that I shared it online and was stunned by how much controversy it created. [I'm sure that those that "violently" opposed the views of Mr. Donovan, missed the irony of their anger]. Embracing violence doesn’t mean you must be violent … as a self-defense consultant, it means you must understand violence so that you can do your best to intercept it. In a real fight, when you are the target, it’s not who’s right that matters, its who’s left.”

Tony Blauer, CEO & Founder, Blauer Tactical Systems

“With this collection, Jack Donovan clearly demonstrates his deep and prescient understanding of a very particular type of man: at once revolutionary and traditional – an outsider amongst outsiders. But Donovan goes further than mere understanding, for in his use of physiological warfare against epistemological enslavement, he offers each of us an escape route from the promise of a deracinated and emasculated future.”

Mark Dyal, Ph.D., author of Ultras Contra Modernity: Romans in Revolt (Arktos, 2014).

“Jack Donovan has produced a fascinating collection of straightforward essays that leave no sacred icon of contemporary times unassailed. The contents of this book represent the nightmares of every self-assured Marxist professor, shrill feminist ideologue, or smarmy liberal journalist. Jack’s ideas are Kryptonite to the chattering classes. This is the book to hand out to baby faced university freshmen who have had the misfortune of being forced to sit through totalitarian humanist indoctrination sessions.”

Keith Preston, author of Attack the System: A New Anarchist Perspective for the 21st Century

“I first heard of Jack by way of his essay Violence is Golden. I was so impressed that I immediately contacted him to request his permission to reprint the article for our audience of warriors, and he was kind enough to oblige.

The unvarnished truth and deep insight on the subject of violence by-proxy instantly struck a chord with me (as I am sure it will with you), and I knew then that I had to dig deeper into Jacks other writings.

I am glad I did.

Jack’s no-nonsense approach to “telling it like it is” calmly, reasonably, and logically is particularly appealing to thinking warriors who wish to get a better grasp on masculinity and what it means to be good at being men… Which is something men suffering from a form of a Nationalistic Stockholm Syndrome (for a lack of better terms) certainly need in this day and age in order to break free from the psychological chains that bind them through what Larken Rose calls The Most Dangerous Superstition – A superstition which prevents men and societies from realizing their full potential – living harmoniously (not perfectly) without masters and slaves ruled by the political class via violence by-proxy enforced by the warrior class.

While you may not agree with everything Jack has to say (I don’t – however, reasonable men recognize that no man is 100% right on everything, yet know better than to throw the baby out with the bathwater), what he has to say is as timely as it is relevant, and these discussion are the types of discourse that all men need to have calmly and rationally better understand each other and get along without violence.

Sparking such discussions amongst diverse groups who often would not naturally cross pollinate on their own is something Jack is particularly gifted at, and we are all better off because of it.

If you have have aspiring young warriors under your tutelage, you could do much worse than pointing them towards Jacks writings in hopes that they will pick up better ideas on what it means to be good at being a man, rather than being “good men.”

It is my sincere hope that Jack’s compilation of some of his most popular essays (including the wildly popular Violence is Golden) and the new materials contained in A Sky Without Eagles, will inspire many more warriors to think for themselves and free their minds from the programming that all to often binds them in servitude to the political class.”

Ron Danielowski, Chief Instructor and Principle, Pulse Firearms Training

Knowing the truth means little if you lack the courage to express it in a world built on lies. Expressing it means little either if you lack the skill to capture and convince an audience. The essays in A Sky Without Eagles teem with ancient truths and new insights delivered with courage, humor, and compelling logic. Truth + courage + style = the latest Jack Donovan book.

Greg Johnson, author of New Right vs. Old Right


Columbia Gorge, clouds, from Hamilton Mt., WAToday, I finally had a chance to reboot.

After a 7 month slog of working and going to tattoo school, followed by a month of working, writing and travelling to speak on both coasts, today was the first day in a long time that really felt like what people call a “day off.” I had things on my whiteboard, but all of them could wait.

I picked up my pal Rex, and we drove out to the Columbia River Gorge to do some hiking. I wanted to get some fresh air and exercise.

I knew it was supposed to rain. The Gorge is always beautiful, but in the rain, it’s a Chinese painting. The mountains disappear and reappear as wraithlike clouds blow slowly around them. There’s a mythic feeling to it that makes it easy to understand why our barbarian fathers believed in mountain spirits.

As we drove past Hamilton Mt., some sunlight caught his cliffs and I said, “I want to go up there.” We crossed the Bridge of the Gods and backtracked to the trailhead. It’s a difficult hike. It’s not Everest, but the switchbacks are steep and precarious. If you keep a good pace it still takes a couple of hours to summit the mountain. I’ve done it before, and it was exactly what I needed.

It rained most of the way up. During the last half mile, there were fewer trees, and we were exposed. That’s when the rain turned to hail. We kept going, stopped at the top for a few minutes, then unceremoniously headed back down the mountain.

The hail really started pounding. I hadn’t bothered to wear a hat, so I was walking with my hands on my shaved, freezing head.

There was a flash of light that felt “right here” in the clouds — not “up there.”


Thunderstorms aren’t that common in the Pacific Northwest. I jumped a little, then chuckled at myself and shouted: “CROM!”

Rex and I laughed, exhilarated from the epic weather.

As we continued down the exposed path, I thought, “This is probably not the best place to be in a thunder and lightning storm.”

Then, I corrected myself. After everything I’d accomplished in the past couple of years, I realized that I couldn’t think of a better way to die.

What an awesome death story! I write a successful book about manliness, give a speech about becoming barbarians, hike up a mountain into a hailstorm, shout “CROM!” and get struck dead by lightning?

GODS die like that!


So, for about ten minutes on a mountain today, I was completely resigned to death by lightning strike. I was happy. I was scanning the clouds with a smile on my face. I was looking forward to it.

After the storm calmed down and we could hear each other, Rex said, “Well, I can’t feel my feet. If they have to cut off my foot, I’ll finally get to build that raptor claw.”

Mr. Blake told me that we should do a perimeter walk before we joined the protest. He said we should look for dump trucks filled with gravel, which they apparently use to protect the block around The Benson hotel when a President comes to town.

Mr. Blake was dressed as an agent for “The Man.” His objective was to identify plants and agents provocateurs.

Mr. Blake at Restore the Fourth

Mr. Blake surveys the assembling protesters.

Satisfied that we weren’t being herded into a State-sponsored kill zone, we decided to proceed to O’Bryant Square, the site of today’s Restore The Fourth event.

I heard about the protest online last night. Organizers promised a non-partisan rally to “strengthen the Fourth Amendment with respect to digital surveillance by the U.S. government.”

Non-partisan? Keeping the gubmint outta my bidness? I can get on board with that!

With all of the protests around the world right now — Greece, Turkey, Egypt, etc. — I wanted to get in on the action. Shake things up. Start The World.

The “non-partisan” atmosphere was interesting and refreshing, and something you wouldn’t have seen a few years ago, when your average protester was obsessed with George W. Bush, and still well ensorceled by Thulsa Doom Barack Obama. In fact, there were multiple signs of brewing discontent with Obama’s wicked dream cult. Mr. Blake said that Obama represented “peak hope,” and I agreed heartily.

Anti-Obama Signs at Restore the Fourth Protest


Another positive was the fact that the protest was being MC’d by a recent Air Force veteran, who carried himself off well. The first thing he did was ask how many others present had at one point swore an oath to defend the US Constitution. When speaking about the value of activism and protest, he brought up The Bonus Army — a group of WWI vets who got screwed over by Uncle Sam, and decided to camp out on the Capitol lawn.

Mr. Blake has written about “The Bonus Army” at some length.

The speaker kind of glossed over the fact that this protest was crushed by Hoover, Douglas MacArthur, President Dwight Eisenhower and George Patton

Four hundred infantry from the the 12th Infantry Regiment and two hundred cavalry from the 3rd Cavalry Regiment mobilized against the Bonus Army.  The infantry attacked with sabers, bayonets and tear gas.  Several Army trucks with machine guns and five or six tanks also moved against the veterans. In the streets of Washington DC, US soldier fought US soldier. Two veterans were shot.  The shantytowns were burned to the ground, including the American flags of the veterans and all the worldly possessions of their families.

- Trevor Blake: The Bonus Army

The young MC said that because of that activism — some of which started in Oregon — major reforms actually took place. I doubt that most of those reforms ended up being for the better, but the feds did eventually pay the vets part of what they owed them.

I didn’t go to the rally because I thought the corrupt and irreparably broken US Government was going to stop abusing its ability to monitor US Citizens. As Mark Steyn reiterated recently, a State with as much power as ours will eventually be lured by the “siren song of the soft target.” It’s easier to go after you for something silly than it is to go after legitimate threats to national or local security.

Ask Jack Carter, the 19-year-old gamer who was arrested, imprisoned, beaten and put in solitary confinement for Facebook smack-talk.

I went to the rally because I’m glad to see the runaway State lose the mandate and trust of its citizens. Widespread loss of faith in centralized government is the only thing — save a major disaster — that can save future generations from becoming the fearful, emasculated slaves of wealthy globalist elites and their pet bureaucrats.

That, and I can’t think of anything better to do on Independence Day than protest tyranny.

Me at the protest. I swear I was trying to look like I was having a good time.


Split a meat plate with a progressive pal the other night at a tucked-in little workshop pub called “The Tannery.”

Good bier wurst.

The two mainstream groups in American politics are made absurd by obvious internal contradictions.

The “Republicans” position themselves as advocates of small-town values, yet defend the big businesses most responsible for eroding the small business, family farm lifestyles that make those values possible.

How can you save small town values with big businesses? 

The “Democrats” are called liberals, and position themselves as champions of personal freedom, yet offer absolutely no solutions that don’t somehow involve increased government regulation or oversight.

How can you increase personal freedom with big government?

“Conservative” Republicans say they are fiscally responsible, but they support fiscally irresponsible, unnecessary, protracted and un-winnable wars.

“Progressive” Democrats say they are against war, but they tacitly support fiscally irresponsible, unnecessary, protracted and un-winnable wars when their own party leaders continue them.

“Progressive” Democrats say they are against big business and white privilege, but they advocate taxation and regulatory policies that make small businesses difficult to start. When I go to progressive areas and patronize new “politically correct” small businesses, it seems as though the majority of them were started or bankrolled by the children of wealthy white people.


Pup Creek Falls, OregonOver a year ago, I wrote an essay titled “Hate Globally, Like Locally.”  Opponents of globalism ought to be finding things to “like” around them, and I vowed to do that — because I actually like where I live. Too many on the far right come off like miserable cunts who hate everything, and give no reason for anyone to sympathize with them.

I ended up promoting the things I like about Portland mainly through my Facebook pages. However, what I found is that I really don’t give a shit about Portland, per se. I work in Portland, but I don’t live in Portland, and I would live further away from it if I could figure out how to make money out in the sticks. There are things I like about Portland. Portland has a great, unpretentious food scene, and some hipster-ish cultural trends I can get on board with, like old-fashioned barber shops. But when people ask me why I live so close to Portland, my answer is:

Because Oregon.

At your right, find a photo of Pup Creek Falls. I did a 7-8 mile (round-trip) trail run/hike out to see this a few days ago. The trailhead was 40 minutes from my home in Milwaukie, which is only about 10 minutes outside of SE Portland. It also happens to be within a few miles of the pull-off where I go to shoot guns with rednecks from Clackamas County.

On a Friday afternoon in March, I was the only one on this lush, primordial trail. I don’t know any other mid-sized city in America where you can truly get out in the middle of nowhere so quickly.

Here’s more information about the trail. 

I’ve started tattoo school, so I may not be doing a lot of writing in the next 6 months, but I renamed the “Portland” section of this blog “Cascadia.” I’m going to try to keep track of the things I like about the Pacific Northwest, including Portland, with brief updates and photos posted to that section.

Jack Donovan Speaking CounterMedia Aug 10 2012

On Friday, August 10, 2012, I spoke to a group of about 25 readers at CounterMedia in Portland. If you are in town and want to pick up a hard copy of The Way of Men, it should be in stock there.

Here’s a podcast of the speech I gave — loosely titled “Start the World.”

Topics covered include:

  • An introduction to the ideas in The Way of Men
  • What is masculinity?
  • The difference between being a good man and being good at being a man
  • The tactical virtues
  • What the globalist, feminist future has to offer men
  • Why you should abandon the modern world and “Destroy the Future”
  • Why I am not a “conservative”


Chris Duffin, who goes by Kabuki Warrior, posted an essay recently about the benefit of training for a competition instead of simply training “in a void,” like many of us do.

Having a planned competitive event scheduled (or series of events) puts hard fixed dates to your goals. The dates don’t change because you strained your quad or your little sister is getting married. What you do is figure out how to deal with these things within the confines of your fixed schedule, because there is no flexibility to your goal.

He holds some impressive records, and he should know. Read more here. 

On a related note, here’s the poster I designed for an upcoming strength competition Duffin and others are putting together. The first annual Portland Primal Strength Fest is scheduled for Saturday, July 28th at Franklin High School in Portland, OR. Yes, that’s my original drawing of Odin as a powerlifter.

I don’t know if I’ll make it to the meet or not — I normally work on Saturdays and I want to be more impressed with my numbers than I am right now before I go to a meet. I’m probably close to the “1000 pound club” right now, which is a hell of a lot stronger than most 37 year-old slobs, but I can do better than that. I just started in earnest 6 months ago and despite the helpful expert coaching I get at Elite Performance Center, it may take this old dog a while to learn some new tricks.

If you’ve been training for powerlifting or Olympic lifting and you’re looking for an event to enter in the Pacific Northwest, the Primal Strength Fest should be a good one.

Chris is even offering MEAT to every competitor. Find out more here. 

Traffic started to slow as I was crossing the Burnside Bridge. It looked like they were doing some construction and closing off a second lane. As I pulled closer, I noticed that one of the guys moving the safety cones wasn’t wearing a reflective vest.  He also wasn’t wearing shoes.

He was a big guy, maybe 260. Broad and solid. White sweatshirt, hood up.

Hoodie guy was grabbing the cones and walking out into traffic. After a car stopped for him, he would slam down the cone and make a dramatic “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!!!” gesture.

He did this in each lane. A van lurched forward and hit him. He was undaunted.

While he was busy with one lane, the real construction guy would nervously remove a cone and let a car go through. He was on his phone, probably talking to dispatch or the police.  After someone drove through, hoodie guy would grab another cone and repeat the process. When the construction guy moved the cone out of my lane, I whipped around hoodie guy and drove across the bridge.

I told the story a couple of times back at the warehouse. Twenty minutes later, I headed back downtown. It started raining.

The man in the white sweatshirt was walking along the stone railing with his arms wide for balance.

The police had arrived. They were talking to him cautiously. He was playing with them.

My original reaction had been,  “Get out of the road, asshole.”

It struck me differently the second time. This guy wasn’t your average meth-head or homeless wino. This guy could have been me.

Maybe this guy is just fucking DONE.

Maybe he’s just had enough.

Fuck you. Fuck this world. Fuck everything. Just FUCK IT ALL.

That’s how I told the story to the guys at my next stop.

I have no idea what his deal was, but that’s the story I’m sticking to.

Twenty minutes later, I crossed the bridge again. He was still up on the ledge, standing there with his arms crossed.

“Eye of the Tiger” was playing on the radio. I turned it up and rolled down my windows. I wanted hoodie guy to hear it. I wanted it to be part of his “moment.”

The cops were saying something to him. He was shaking his head defiantly, like a little kid who doesn’t want to go to bed.


As I passed, I gave him a quick salute. I think he saw me out of the corner of his eye.

You fucking tell ‘em, D-FENS. 

You tell ‘em all about it.