The world does not revolve around us.

The world was not created for us. The world was not created by us.

The world created us; and rebellious and obstinate as we were,

we turned on that which bred us; only we forgot to note that

when our host dies, so do we.

Narcissus.

He defines a narcissistic culture as one in which every activity and relationship is defined by the hedonistic need to acquire the symbols of spiritual wealth, this becoming the only expression of rigid, yet covert, social hierarchies. It is a culture where liberalism only exists insofar as it serves a consumer society, and even art, sex and religion lose their liberating power.

In such a society of constant competition, there can be no allies, and little transparency. The threats to acquisitions of social symbols are so numerous, varied and frequently incomprehensible, that defensiveness, as well as competitiveness, becomes a way of life. Any real sense of community is undermined — or even destroyed — to be replaced by virtual equivalents that strive, unsuccessfully, to synthesize a sense of community. It can mean also many other things.

Inert mass of mangled flesh.

The Tibet question persistently calls for a final solution; once and for all the Tibetan Youth Congress and the Government of Tibet in Exile must be eradicated by vigorous effort from the side of our beloved Chinese comrades. No longer can this vile excuse of a campaign against the glorious Middle Kingdom be tolerated; no longer can the infantile westerners looking down from upon their softly rocking moral high-horse be allowed to roam free. Renfail was sent off to China, arrived late last week; The Evening Whore cites five things he should bring up, which included free movements for foreign press within China… Hu will laugh at Renfails ugly warped face as he utters the sad words in mangled English to the interpreter.

Some kids apparently wanted to murder the useless douche Chuck Norris. It’s about time someone takes time to remove that cancerous curse from the face of this planet, that no-good repugnant Christian lunatic should be “fixed”. Whacked. Though the kids’ death-threats were most likely jokes. I joke like that all the time. It’s hilarious. I recall a friend in school who once called in a bomb threat to a local school, though sadly he was not articulate enough for them to comprehend his half-laughed shouting: “In 2 hours it’ll blow!” I’m sure many laughs would have been had if only he’d taken time to calm down before uttering it all.

Chuck Norris does not miss the opportunity to promote his own solution to the marginalisation of certain students; he preaches to those “lost souls” and offer salvation… in martial arts. Chuck Norris the retard, the subject of a stupid pathetic Internet meme some years ago that certain ill fellows still think is hilarious—would not be missed if he were to depart this world. His accursed wretchedness is inexcusable.

In other news, brain-dead Evening Whore-forums poster CREST, or as he is also known as “crust”, went on to appear once again with a show of his splendid intelligence when he praised Fredrik Reinfeldt (Renfail) for his very bright activities in China a few days ago. Renfail left the Administration, or as he himself likes to think of it, Hu Jintao personally, a list of 13 degenerate human rights activists which he would like to see freed from Chinese prisons. It was much applauded at home in Sweden, were locals suffering from a inane belief in their own importance believed it to be an significant move that would actually prompt the Chinese meet the demands for democratisation.

Alas, Dalai Lama, once funded by the CIA back in the olden times as means to provide insurgency in the region and check Chinese influence, has found much better realms of existence. He now goes on political crusades for democracy and other disgusting things, and constantly tours the western world while speaking vague rubbish before audiences of inbred mongrels. Flat tax, fair tax, same shit; all the same, democracy, shitocracy (funny as hell, I know, right?), democrazy, democide, genocide, the subversive groups must be purged, fixed; kill Dalai Lama, nuke England, seize power in the U.S., outlaw political campaigning for the flat tax, jail people that disagree, have people for pets in your dungeon—

Circles in the snow, the autumn leaves fall from the trees, colours white and brown, a disgusting mishmash – scissors in the flesh, the accursed liberals seizing the world; the collapse of the USSR the greatest disaster in history, now unchecked liberal democracy is infecting the world, human rights galore. Outlaw Amnesty International, jail activists! Stop free choice! Stop the free market! The world endlessly spiralling downwards uncontrollably, towards a black abyss, across the river children cry for their dead mothers…

Force feed me your love-nectar, my dear–

Society of the Godless.

A lunatic is a lunatic is a lunatic.

I had a dream. A dream wherein the world was flat, and in the sky huge detached heads hung with bulbous cheeks blowing the currents of the wind; a 1700’s copper stick mangled into a pornographic panorama – meaning what? The “Dream-coach” could not tell me, he merely raved on about personal issues I felt were in no way related to the issue at hand. But such is our individualist society. Every human a universe on its own, unrelated; betwixt the different universes are no threads, no connections, just magnetic forces distantly acting upon one-another, constellations of stars radiating rays of energy into space too faint to be seen, worm-holes, spatial paradoxes—the enigma, the unexplainable, remains unexplained; the knowledge we could not gain because we were busy contemplating whether we should wear a red or a blue tie to the graduation ceremony.

The focus lost, in Tibet the separatists, the brainless ethnocentric scum, running in circles on the streets of Lhasa; this is lend-lease; “we give you the guns, but you fight”, thus spake Dalai Lama, the old uninterested leader—the Brezhnev of the East—and flushed down a handful of painkillers with a shot of whiskey. I am from The League of the Militant Godless; we come to you tonight with only one goal in mind. We shall put your God on the cross, to prove to you it is a mere mortal much like you; we are well-exercised in the fine art of executing ideas. An Idea can survive the longest human lifespan, but it cannot survive us. We’ll light a fire underneath the cross and dance, and we’ll say “Nyah” a million times before the fire dies.

Love - don’t love

That depends on the eye that sees,
that depends on the heart that beats.

Deep down inside I long (nothing will be like before)
Deep down inside I cry (nothing will be like before)
Deep down inside

A volcano - an ocean of time
A cloud creates shadows of doubts

Deep down inside I long (nothing will be like before)
Deep down inside I cry (nothing will be like before)
Deep down inside I grief (nothing will be like before)
Deep down inside

A closed hand,
bloody string.
A closed mind -
angel blind
There is a medicine

Deep down inside I long (nothing will be like before)
Deep down inside I cry (nothing will be like before)
Deep down inside I grief (nothing will be like before)
Deep down inside

The Lonely Night Hysteria.

You did it again,
yes you in the mirror,
you put your faith in a cruel world,
All my dead friends come to haunt, harm and hinder, never letting go,
here to drag me down to Hell,
just say goodbye…

I was much offended this morning when I came to notice that a Christian Criminal had commented a rather old blogpost of mine, obviously appalled at my closing statement about how religious clergy should be executed and religious believers sent to labour and re-education camps for training in the proper ways to see the world. Beginning with some cautious moves – “I am not even sure it is worth commenting” – this diseased fellow is sure one bad sick bastard. Of course it ISN’T WORTH COMMENTING. Why did you have to do it? I chose to approve the comment, however, because it splendidly shows the true stupidity and fail of religious people.

“You make the same old assumption that thru out the ages has been made: Christianity =’s religion.” Here, as far as I was able to read, this person claims that I equate all religion to Christianity, or something. I am not sure, there’s a strange “’s” after the “=”, so maybe it was intended to be something else. The post in question specified that it was for all religions. This includes Islam, Hinduism, most forms of Buddhism, Mormons, Judaism, Catholicism, Protestantism, etc. I hope this deranged one isn’t suggesting Christianity is something more than a mere religion— in which case this person is more stupid than I first thought.

Then the Christian deviator continues to and fails to make much sense, since it seems as if it has not properly read the post. Oh, and Jesus never existed the way he was portrayed in the Bible, hope you know that. Then it seems to suggest that I am prideful and believe I am without sin—I am anything but prideful (but sure as hell HATE-ful). One part – “Religion is nothing more than Man or womankind’s attempt to explain our existence. This is not Christianity… The work of Christ was not to explain our existence but to offer eternal life…” – seems to suggest I have initiated a discussion of this. It was the old redneck in the videos to which I linked which presented Christianity as an explanation to existence; which by the way is a crucial part of most religions, including Christianity, regardless.

Then the post suddenly loses touch with reality; claiming I see myself as the high priest of history and the well-read bearer of truth, which is just a fucking stupid thing to say. I’d never raise myself to such heights. I am of the opinion that everything I and everyone else says is utter rubbish, a retarded voluminous regurgitation of nothingness, a black hole of fail. I’m full of shit, and so are you, Christian. I know nothing, and neither do you. We all just assume a lot of tripe is true, though we will really never know, the end days you await will come someday, maybe you’ll be long dead by then or not, but it will never be the way it is in your orgasmic fantasies. Nothing ever is.

The end is the end. We walk a uneven path through a rugged mountainous landscape of deserted villages and pitch black forests full of decaying carcasses. Everything is a lie. There is no such thing as truth. Your views are out there and all over the place, oh Christian deviator, you will be judged one day, not by God or Jesus, but by my firing squads: an event you cannot stop no matter how much you believe. It will be the end of humankind, for nobody will escape my grasp, you are all dirty, sick; we are all sinners, rot woven into flesh, the smell of scorched human bone, and as such we must be eradicated. No more promises and hopes, no more FAITH or other delusions, no more false belief in how things will work out in the end—

No sorting, no mercy; all equal at last, tissue ripped off limbs and grilled pink, a public barbeque, the mass extermination of the human race, the final solution. Do not make the mistake to assume I hold myself above others. I am certain that I am as worthless as anyone, and I will finish of myself once my job of eradicating everyone else is completed, for as I am a human like the rest of them, I must also perish in the Great Purge.

Now that this issue has been sorted out, I’d also like to add one more thing. It was that day a while ago. The day whose name shall not be mentioned, sometimes referred to as the “Day of Love”. The day it was incepted in its modern form was certainly not a day of victory—well, not victory of love, either way. Maybe victory for the companies selling flowers and heart-shaped objects and chocolate in red heart-shaped boxes. I’d like chocolate in a yellow box shaped like a hammer and sickle, where each little bar looks like the badge provided by the State Stalin Prize 1941-1954. That’d truly be a superior thing. Much better than some pesky hearts… though hearts in a realistic and accurate shape and size made of chocolate would be pretty cool too. I’m not sure I’d like to desecrate such a great thing by eating it, however. I prefer my Stalin medals intact.

We love like fighting cats, sleeping under the moon outside a burning barn, bringing heat to our frozen bodies by way sex and proximity to the fire, slowly burning out and diminishing into a glowing mountain of grey-black ashes, like a volcano by night it glows—and we, intoxicated by love and ecstatic sex, embrace one another and become as one.

There’s no such thing as free will, so what does it matter that “freedom” is “infringed upon”? People should not be free. The Bible is pretty unclear on the subject of free will, occasionally suggesting it exists, other times not; how is it going to be? Are we responsible for our own sins, or is God? Does God make us repent; make us ask for redemption for the sins God made us commit? Why would God create organisms so imperfect such as us? If we were created in the image of God, what does that tell you about God? : That God is a mean, sadistic psychopathic control freak, worse than even me, and on top of that – unlike me – God is omnipotent, all-powerful. I have no power. I make no difference and have no illusions thereabout.

Contradicting ourselves is in our very nature.

Is this life this degradation
this pointless game, humiliation
Born to die, we’re born to lose
and not one choice we make we choose
And when this life is at an end
we find that Death’s our only friend
Must we suffer through your games, oh Lord?
Can God really be so bored?

We waste our lives destroying, hating,
while beneath our flesh a skull lies waiting
Blind to beauty blind to love,
we fear of our loving Lord above
Some live their lives to play their games,
some live as victims, the insane
Your experiment oh Lord has failed
and I trust that when we meet you will forgive us

It’s futile so I’ll end this note
and find a knife and slit my throat
and come to track you down oh Lord
you better watch your back,
be sure that when we meet you’ll be surprised
no loving praise, no glee filled cries
Just pain and hate and tear filled sighs
and the question in the end is “Why?”

–London After Midnight, A Letter to God

“Suddenly I had a bunch of gay guys on my profile, and my girlfriend left me.”

Anonymous 03/31/07(Sat)01:00:00 No.23307478  [Reply]

Arguments with the religious (or between two religious parties) can never be resolved because religious claims are not based on evidence. On the world stage, when it comes to resources and power, any ‘conflicts of will’ which cannot be resolved empirically must inevitably be resolved through violence. This is why sectarian violence persists endlessly in the Middle East and other parts of the world.

This is one of many reasons why religion is incompatible with a rational world; When the religious are in the minority and refuse to yield to rational argument, only one solution will remain….

And nothing of value will be lost.

Disease.

“Life is like watching TV”, a person once said, “a rubbish channel full of unendurable sitcoms and saturated with commercials blipping by every twenty seconds. You cannot record it to a tape or a DVD; you can’t fast forward or skip any segments. You have to endure it all. But at the end of the ride you freak out and look for the rewind button, but it’s far too late and before you know it, it’s all over.” Maybe it’s true; maybe it’s just a heap of rubbish that doesn’t really mean anything. Then again, what exactly isn’t a heap of rubbish that really doesn’t mean anything? Any meaning is purely illusory. Any purpose is purely a figment of mans imagination, a fictional adventure that never quite takes off.

You don’t know who you are, and no matter how many things you might come to try, you never will be sure—except that time you manage to convince yourself that you do know, that it is no longer a mystery, that it all makes sense now.Or maybe life is more like a gigantic roundabout, twenty different roads to take and no signage or signals whatsoever. You can guess, take the fast lane, take the lane which most people take, you can do whatever feels “right”, but in the end, it does not matter, it makes no real difference; all the roads are lined with deadly traps and other dangers, all the roads offer views of the exact same vista, picturesque flower gardens full of homeless people and withering trees poisoned by the salt-saturated ground. And you mean absolutely nothing.

As the Jante law commands, so shall you live:

1. Don’t think that you are special.
2. Don’t think that you are of the same standing as us.
3. Don’t think that you are smarter than us.
4. Don’t fancy yourself as being better than us.
5. Don’t think that you know more than us.
6. Don’t think that you are more important than us.
7. Don’t think that you are good at anything.
8. Don’t laugh at us.
9. Don’t think that anyone cares about you.
10. Don’t think that you can teach us anything.

No, it’s not up to you. It does not matter what you want. Your want is unimportant; it’s as foolish and ridiculous as religion. I want to destroy you. I want to make that very clear; my heart will only be at rest when my work here is done; my work, my work to destroy humanity. Hateful, bigoted; a narcoleptic masturbates and ejaculates on the third floor above the smelly store selling fresh fishes while watching TV in his room, lit by the neon on the opposite side of the street, neon advertising prostitution—“liberty”, you say, “liberty was always the most important thing in the whole world” – let the drunkards get drunk till their livers collapse, it’s their choice! “It’s their body, their decision,” you say, I say, shut up, kill yourself. Spare me the effort of having you eradicated.

No more, mother, stop this, no more, not another second, unendurable, my eyes they itch, I claw at them with the ferocity of a wild beast, help is none, my thought patterns make no sense, an endless stream of suggestive imagery, erotic grotesque nonsense; imagine laying on a deserted beach at sunrise and have your throat slit by a masked man in a diving suit. I really cannot form any sentences of any coherence today. Excuse me. Kuomintang wins Taifail elections, U.S. war with Iran draws closer, all the presidential candidates for the U.S. election are absolutely deranged psychopaths – Halley’s Comet, meteor fragments, Tunguska, M5, M34, Inner Ring Road, Manchester, Massachusetts, Extinction Events, ANC sucks, Zuma is one crazy idiot who believes showering after a rape will shield him from HIV—

A disgusting “market” in India burns, and I rejoice. India needs to burn, the entire nation set alight, a beautiful fire, a blazing show, such a gorgeous inferno. I could make love to you while we’ll watch a DVD collection of George Bush’s stunning public displays of his oratory skill. Tony Blair’ has run out of anti-aging pills since he became an enemy of Weiner, oh that pesky Weiner and his World Control Scheme – there’s no NWO, there’s only a Weather Control Device and a Time Machine – Weiner does no longer need the services of Tony Blair, as such, he no longer has access to the secret medicines needed for him to stop aging. His true age is now obvious. Sixty eight years counting, a grey-haired and weathered wreck of a man, once a strong figure with strength behind his words reduced to a mere lame-duck puppet—

Reality, reality, nonsense. Get a life. You say that a person that is not a virgin has nothing to say. To lose ones virginity is maturity, you think so? Kill yourself. Die in a fire. All hope is lost. Hope is per definition a delusion. Negativity, oh my, never would have guessed. Taifail, Tinfoil, conspiracy nuts, death to Ron Paul, 9/11 Truth movement, oh so many idiots abound, will it ever end, this avalanche of dreadful failure, intelligent design no way, ha-ha!

I’ll play you against one-another. It’s all in the game. There is no life after death.

I’d sooner slit my wrists and risk discovery of hell

than stay another moment here where certain devils dwell

Vanity.

When deciding what to write, it’s important to sit down and contemplate what one really wants to have said. I find this very difficult, because there is nothing I want to have said, there is nothing I want to have done other than humanity completely eliminated. Consequently, finding a subject which to treat is exceedingly difficult, as I rather not deal with some inane personal travesties. Writing about oneself would be even more uninteresting than what I am currently writing, you know, more uninteresting than crazy political commentary and wacko fundamentalist anti-religious hate-songs mixed up with endorsement of historical authoritarian leaders. However, lately I have had the misfortune of observe the communiqués of some shallow sex-fixated people, and thusly, I’d like to take this moment to discuss with you the unimportance of sex.

Western society is extremely fixated on the concept of sexual intercourse. In fact, it is often seen as an introduction into adulthood to lose ones virginity; and amongst the degenerate youth, the number of sex partners is directly related to the social status: the more sexual encounters, the higher the person will be found in the social hierarchy. Being a prostitute is not so much frowned upon as it used to be, though thankfully the act of offering vain services of pleasure for a charge is still heavily stigmatised; there is however a repulsive number of pro-prostitution lobbyist organisations, representing some brain-dead harlots that gladly sacrifice their bodies for the sexual gratification of others in order to receive material rewards; either money or simply enjoying the act of sex.

Pleasure is irrelevant. Pleasure brings nothing; enjoyment is unimportant, undesirable even; continued reproduction and creation of new offspring is the most disgusting and diseased act to dedicate oneself to. Every child should hold his or her parents responsible for the most atrocious of crimes ever, the birthing of new life, the creators of pain and unendurable suffering. Abortion needed, not voluntary, a requirement, a must; no child shall ever again be born, no new human life upon this planet shall be created, artificially or naturally, no difference, loathsome all the same; I reject it, I reject sexual intercourse; the retards say that I am “just jealous”; they can think whatever they want, I hold my principles dear, and I do not part from them in any way apart from in frenzied fantasy.

Last night I dreamt of a dark world subdued by endless raining and war, murderous legions of the undead, Zombies, were walking all over the world, and in the mines and on the beaches I had to fight my way through a mindless shooting game with a rubbish Ayn Rand Rifle that constantly would jam. It looked similar to a Sturmgewehr 44, in general, though it did not feature automatic fire and its magazines contained only 12 bullets. As I shot down the zombies I heard Ayn Rand’s annoying voice, unintelligible at times due to her horrid accent, ranting on about how atoms don’t exist because she personally thinks man is a holy creation that cannot really be made out of tiny parts. “Tiny parts forming a whole is a collectivist notion”, she said in my dream, “each part insignificant on its own, but together forming a functioning whole; this simply cannot be! This is the work of rotten Marxist criminals!”

Anyway, back to the subject of sex. Sex is loathsome. Why? Pleasure is loathsome. Emotional or physical fulfilment is loathsome. You do not matter. You make no difference. Your work, your actions, they mean absolutely nothing, you are temporary, insignificant, you have no real impact. Your thoughts and your philosophies, they mean nothing, and all things ever created amount to absolutely nothing. And while I at times wish for better things for the world, for myself, and for all people in the world, I know this is not the way to go; nothing can cure my situations, nothing can correct my bitterness; they tried to put me on anti-depressants, but it did not make me feel any better.I don’t want sex.

I reject sex. I reject existence, all of ours existence, I reject human nature as an evolutionary mistake. Just my personal delusions, you say, just another one of those attention whores, one of those pesky “emo-kids” or whatever, I’m just some “holier-than-thou douche bag”. But I’m not holier than you. I’m a deranged lunatic, I’m a failure in every way imaginable, I’m a transsexual, a cross-dressing wacko, anti-religious psychopathic; and did I tell you that even I sometimes give in to the sick desire for self-satisfaction? We are all rotten. We must be destroyed. We must be cleansed. We are apples full of worms rotting in the summer sun; we are intestines full of worms and deadly micro-organisms; we are disgusting, we deserve no existence.

I reject love, I reject emotions, all emotion deranged fantasies, I see people hugging and being affectionate and I want to destroy, I want to fire up the ovens and I want to burn. Such vitriol, such bigotry, such spiteful ignorance and intolerance I present, and I am so absolutely aware of it. To destroy is much easier than to correct and work out in other ways. It is a simple solution to a problem of such a massive scale and scope that no other solution is even possible for our feeble minds. A race of superior alien intellects could possible do a good job and master us with collars of thorns, but the likelihood of this ever happening is basically zero.

Do you begin to see, then, what kind of world we are creating? It is the exact opposite of the stupid hedonistic Utopias that the old reformers imagined. A world of fear and treachery is torment, a world of trampling and being trampled upon, a world which will grow not less but more merciless as it refines itself. Progress in our world will be progress towards more pain. The old civilizations claimed that they were founded on love or justice. Ours is founded upon hatred. In our world there will be no emotions except fear, rage, triumph, and self-abasement. Everything else we shall destroy, everything. Already we are breaking down the habits of thought which have survived from before the Revolution. We have cut the links between child and parent, and between man and man, and between man and woman. No one dares trust a wife or a child or a friend any longer. But in the future there will be no wives and no friends. Children will be taken from their mothers at birth, as one takes eggs from a hen. The sex instinct will be eradicated. Procreation will be an annual formality like the renewal of a ration card. We shall abolish the orgasm. Our neurologists are at work upon it now.

There will be no loyalty, except loyalty towards the Party. There will be no love, except the love of Big Brother. There will be no laughter, except the laugh of triumph over a defeated enemy. There will be no art, no literature, no science. When we are omnipotent we shall have no more need of science. There will be no distinction between beauty and ugliness. There will be no curiosity, no enjoyment of the process of life. All competing pleasures will be destroyed. But always — do not forget this, Winston — always there will be the intoxication of power, constantly increasing and constantly growing subtler. Always, at every moment, there will be the thrill of victory, the sensation of trampling on an enemy who is helpless. If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face — for ever.’ –Orwell, Nineteen Eighty-Four