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.

Democrazy.

Democracy is unstable as a political system as long as it remains a political system and nothing more, instead of being, as it should be, not only a form of government but a type of society, and a manner of life which is in harmony with that type. To make it a type of society requires an advance along two lines. It involves, in the first place, the resolute elimination of all forms of special privilege which favour some groups and depress other, whether their source be differences of environment, of education, or of pecuniary income. It involves, in the second place, the conversion of economic power, now often an irresponsible tyrant, into a servant of society, working within clearly defined limits and accountable for its actions to a public authority. –R.H. Tawney, Keeping Left (1950)

The morning sun scorches the dying bees; earthquake predictions are regularly ignored so as to avoid causing undue panic should the predictions be faulty – which they quite often are. Local television news report of the 7.9 M^w earthquake event as thought it was brought on by “climate change” and “global warming”; and at the same time the Myanmar junta is slow to respond to offers of help, scared as though they must be to appear weak and scared to accept help from people that just some months earlier called for their overthrow and prayed persistently for their deaths when the pompous monks demanded a resumption of fuel subsidies.

The Chinese government allows free market elements, yet now they are bad for doing so; the government was not firm enough when handling out construction contracts; was it not just following the recommendations of the IMF and World Bank (the scum of the world in my book, so to say) economists. It is their fault, their fault; when it happens to us it is by accident, when it happens to the ideological enemy, we are always quick to blame.

Light goes up.

The Soviets do what the U.S. does; when the U.S. or its allies do something, it is done for freedom, liberty and prosperity; the soviets do the same, and it is an act of dangerous aggression, a fascistic totalitarian act of despicable inhumanity. We will liberate you. Let you taste the air of freedom—the same system as before, we just changed the faces of the rulers and the empty words they spew.

What you are I was, what I am you will be.

It is double-think; not mere allegory, not mere criticism, it is vast and it is efficient, intelligent and deep, profound;

. . , the rulers of mankind . . . maintain side by side two standards of social ethics, without the risk of their colliding. Keeping one set of values for use, and another for display, they combine, without conscious insincerity, the moral satisfaction of idealistic principles with the material advantages of realistic practice.

Transgression and suppression;

Wishful thinking.

You know it’s too good to be true.

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

Delusional News Story of the Rapture.

Life… stretches ahead of us, ugly and misshaped, a grotesque deformed gorilla baby with legs growing out of its rectum. The skin so hairless and lacking any detail, just a dark and rough skin, underneath which hides that frightening brown flesh… threads woven densely, impossible to cut into even by the most advanced sharp knives and laser equipment. What am I trying to say by this nonsensical rambling? – not sure, if anything – maybe the nothingness, the utter nonsense, is a point in itself? Or maybe that is just a contemplation resulting from confusion – confusing who, really? That which is I – which is to say a spatial collection of subatomic particles and organic-electric currents – is not confused, it must be you. Take my hand; let us dance, across the iron rails of the stairs up to the Reichshalle entrance. Underneath the silky Red Flag, let us kiss; besiege tradition with the hideous clothes we wear, sewn into our flesh—

< But the time – or rather, the sand – has run out, and as we fight on to find the secrets of the buried ferns, we eventually realise our work is in vain. What we do is irrelevant. In fact, everything is irrelevant, null; a big spread emptiness. Tinfoil on your head, NWO, Alex Jones, I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, perish, perish; all you need to do is Perish. Michael Savage, aka Michael WEINER (no coincidence there, that much is sure), there is more than one thing that is a mental disease, and that is not only liberalism, but also conservatism.

Weiner’s campaign was unsuccessful, and he and his father excoriated the left for anti-Semitism as the reason for his loss on his father’s radio show.

Weiner—I can’t forget about his name. Not a chance in Valhalla that it is a coincidence; let us bash the left, they all hate Jews (except the evil communists in the ADL and ACLU, right?) – though again and again I find myself reading about a person who just turns out to be the most absurd fail ever… and then, it turns out he’s a Jew. Though, exceptions to the rule do of course exist – let us for example recall the brevity and intelligence of Lazar Kaganovich and all the good things he achieved. I’ll step on you with my high heels if you disagree. Verbal zero-tolerance. Deviation from Party-policy is unacceptable. The five-year plan must be achieved. Protesting is illegal; do not think we are unaware of your subversive plans, do not think we are unaware of your foolish misconceptions. We can read your mind.

We read you like a book. In the morning we discuss you over coffee. We know all we need about you, and would something require use to dive deeper into your unconscious, we can do so at will. You cannot defend yourself, you cannot escape. We are everywhere.

We are the resistance and we are the central government. We are the fascists and the communists, the Nazis and the Zionists. We are all things, left, right, up and down, druggies and straight edge. The Ku-Klux-Klan and the Freeway Revolt, it was all our workings, just for the sake of petty laughs.

A man shoots eight people at a Jewish school. Just days after Israel completed the killing of over a hundred Palestinians. As you all know I am not a supporter of human rights, but quite clearly, most media has responded very strongly to this event, something that stands in contradiction to their response to the Israeli excesses recently. Israel is very keen to keep the KPD (Kills per death) ratio up. Under 200 is unacceptable, so in order to “level the playing field” they have sex on the control panel at the central command while pretending they are adhering to some ancient Jewish rite, and end up sporadically launching a few missiles at civilian structures. If anyone asks, they’ll just say it was a raid on “terrorist nests”, you know, like when you’re dealing with a vermin infestation.

Perhaps a nice war is brewing in South America. Some neighbouring countries are angry at the retarded Colombians – one of the primary U.S. proxy states in the region - after they engaged in a few military activities on other countries soil. In other news – whalers shot a protesting environmentalist cunt. I hope we will see more such things in the future. Too bad he didn’t die. He should not have worn a Kevlar vest. Blood drained from aging pigs. Marches – protests – useless, puny; vile displays of… perceived self-importance… the value of a vote… is nil.

Gordon Brack (Brown) was much displeased to learn of some anti-war people being mean to people wearing uniform. Like it is a serious thing; soldiers should be able to deal with the psychological stress of such harassment. They are paid killers of course, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but let’s not use some stupid fashionable words to avoid the clash between this and the liberal-democratic conception of rights, and especially human rights.

Israel must be pushed into the ocean… shoved off the continent… and back to where it should have been in the first place… New York City. See what I did there? Anti-Semitic joke. Funny, wasn’t it? Especially if you are a Jew, right? The corrupt and evil Zionist psychosis organisation American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) is dedicated to securing that the Hezbollah TV-station be designed a terrorist organisation… it’s crucial to prevent your opponent from providing information that disagrees with your own propaganda. The U.S. accused China of increasing their military spending. It was said that “their spending is much higher than the official numbers show”, something that is ironic given the fact that the U.S. Department of Defence spending is partially kept secret (20-30% of spending earmarked for ‘black’ projects) and away from independent book-keeping, and on top of that dispelling parts of the actual DoD budget on other government departments, to make it seem smaller than it really is. Some estimate that the practical budget for 2008 will be moving in on $1 trillion dollars.

Your orifices are unappealing.

 Sexual preference is in no way a classification, merely a vague bit of information; those who somehow identify by their sexual preferences are disgusting and should be shot. As should anyone ever wanting to have children, or anyone who has ever been loyal to neo-liberal conceptions and lassies-faire… or anyone that for some reason perceive gender to be a part of their identity. Kill with fire. Just kill everything with fire. None of it’s of any worth either way.

 Sex is revolting. As are human bodies, really, up close and naked they reveal the most hideous flaps of flesh, grotesque by any standards, mountains towering here and there from uneven tectonic plates, protruding mounds with deep abysses and fault lines crisscrossing the landmasses. Not to mention the disgusting genitals… dark unexplored caves with repulsively coloured and uneven walls and hidden sacs, or a strange tower of Babylon strangled by the most hideous worming veins, crowned by a purplish monks exposed skull. Their eyes so playfully alluring, covering up the most warped of secrets like the impressive governments of conspiracy nuts midnight entertainment. As the skin is torn off it reveals the utterly offensive muscular tissue and all the organs engaged in energy-conversion of various sorts, ugly organs, defective, sensitive, prone to failure. Not built to last, like modern kitchen appliances and clothes or NASA’s space shuttles.

 When I see people discuss such utterly trivial nonsense such as sex with their friends I want to have my secret police round them up and send them off to the re-education and labour camps. If they ever come back from there they will no longer be interested in pathetic travesties. No longer will their topics of choice be the size of their friend’s asses and tits, or how fucking funny that inane party last Saturday was and how loaded they got, but worldly topics beyond their own selfish sphere. They’ll no longer ponder the joy of driving whilst drunk or how fucking awesome smoking joints is, they will feel no joy, their hearts will be squeezed empty and filled with relentless hatred. Never again will they enjoy their own existence and vanity will be uninteresting to them.

 I don’t see any paradox in wanting to end humanity and being appalled at the utter inanity of humans and their lack of emotion. People aspiring to satisfy their own selfish desires offend me, not people without emotion. Sex is a primitive drive to assure the survival of the species. Humans must aspire to move above the retardation of the past, the mammalian habits and behaviours we sadly inherited. With technical enhancements this might one day be reality, though I have no hope ever this will be realised. I know that technology will not be used in constructive ways, but will only be used to produce cloned designer babies in child factories. In the future you will choose by way of a corporate catalogue of offers what kind of a child you want. Who cares what is “natural”, there’s no “natural” state on this planet; existence is ever-changing.

 Everything is wrong, flawed; thrown away, forgotten, resigned. I don’t much care what people think of what I say, though I do care about how I appear physically. I dress sloppily, but I never talk to people unless they talk to me first, and if they do I only use the absolute minimum of talk required to get away quickly. I appear hateful, bitter and as a fanatic Stalinist lunatic with a million emotional problems, and I am absolutely aware of why no one in the world wants me, but I’m not sure I care all that much.

 It’s a lesson of life; one must deal with the reality; not give in to the foolish instincts that say we must find a mate and reproduce and learn to become a hermit, isolated from the waves of retardation that flow like poison through the populace; the toxins of liberal democracy and the illusion of “freedom”. One must realise the insignificance of ones every action. Nothing matters or makes a difference. Offing oneself the only real solution. Everything else just postponing the inevitable. Every drug-abusing rock-failure ends up with children three marriages later, so much for trying to outrun the instincts… just another meaningless attempt to break away from the bondage of existence, by the claws of Nature devoured…

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

The schizm in fascism is more like a fetischism.

Rehased notions of dreams; combat the lack of creativity.

Speaking of dreams, last night I had a nice vivid dream, one of those long ones that seem like they are different dreams woven together. It found myself on a field by a muddy slope down towards a stream. It’s one of those local streams that have no real names, but everyone just call it The Stream. I was not alone; a former friend I haven’t seen in many years was there with me. He was doing something down in the water, maybe digging for clams or trying to capture the small freshwater fish not yet killed by some oil spill with his hands. I look up at the sky, dark clouds coming in from the west. “It looks like we’ll get rain”, I tell him, but I don’t think he hears, he’s caught up in the mud digging.

After a while, he turns to me and vomits out a flat uninterested “what?” I tell him it looks like we’ll get rain or something. A cold breeze comes in from the west, northwest to be precise, and embraces us, rattling the browning leafs in the trees growing in the swampy vicinity of the stream. “Yeah, yeah”, he says, “we’ll get going soon enough, nothing to worry about.” He has a camera around his neck, one of those old analogue ones. History. This scenario smells like 1995.

Eventually he tires of whatever he’s doing, photographing earthworms in the wet mud, maybe, and we get on two bikes. It doesn’t look like the bike I used to have, it’s blue and red, a paradoxical political intercourse; and we pedal across the field and across the dirt road by the school that leads up to the old military ammunitions storage they downsized some ten years ago. As we cross the school yard and I encounter a peculiar notion of nostalgia, a vague memory from long ago, it begins to snow from the darkening skies. It’s not cold at all, it’s warm, summer time, yet from the sky the purest snow ever, white like virginity, and it doesn’t melt as it hits the ground, it lands like volcanic ash, and our bikes leave a trail.

We take the path through the woods, it does not look like it does in reality; it isn’t paved and it passes on a narrow ledge above a marsh full of tropical-looking ferns, highly odd looking for this region in reality. But it is a dream, so I do not reflect on this, I merely absorb the feeling in the air, a notion on unreality, a strangeness and relief of being not-me ever-present in my dreams. We come out of the forest, and follow a narrow road up to a large house.

I guess you might say it looks like something out of a bad horror movie; it’s Dreams In The Witch-house, and this is the witch-house in Arkham; the walls weathered and in demand or urgent attention, but none has cared for many years. He hands me a camera, my former friend, says something I don’t register and walks up to the door. I follow, insecurely – or maybe that is just my real perception of what I would have done were it not a dream? – and we walk up a set of stairs that lead to a door inside the house; apparently it is arranged with partitions, i.e. a block of flats. An old lady opens- my maternal grandmother, strangely- though in this dream she is my former friends’ mother, nothing else. “It’s coming!” she says, “It’s coming to town! Let’s get up on the roof!” And on the roof the view is spectacular, despite the chilling rain that has now replaced the volcanic-ash-snow, and despite (or because of?) the horrific thunder and the flashes of lightning, purple and orange, white and blue, green and yellow. It’s raining immensely, and the wind has picked up, it’s hard to see for my hair gets in my eyes. “There it is!” she screams, and amongst the buildings towards the city – which looks strangely Japanese, must be my weeaboo traits playing a trick on me – I can see it, a tornado.

It’s a grey funnel that now reaches down from the clouds, and we hear the noises it makes as it shatters windows and entire buildings down in the valley; it seems we are on a ridge of sort, which looks nothing like anything I’ve seen in real life. The cityscape is not that of my usual City-of-Dreams, either. “What if it comes this way?” my former friend asks my maternal grandmother-gone-his-mother, “shouldn’t we try to find someplace more secure to hold out? Why do we stand on the roof?” And his mother tells him that the view is the best from up here. “What about the security risk?” And she says with great certainty that it will not hurt us, that it knows “respect”.

“Capture it”, my former friend says as we are riding a boat down a narrow channel by small wooden houses surrounded with lush greenery. I hold a camera and I can see the tornado sweeping through distant neighbourhoods through its zoom lens. I click a few times, capture a few pictures.

Suddenly, we are surrounded by ruins. Everywhere caved in homes and pulverised concrete, here and there still standing structures, partially collapsed homes, a burning school; it’s still raining, and it seems to be turning towards night. A dead body floats in the waterway behind us.

I am alone in the little boat. It looks like a kayak of sorts. I drift along a beach in the darkness, it’s still a bit windy and every now and the salty ocean spray come into my mouth. And I feel depressed; drifting alone along a shoreline lined with abandoned and collapsed hotels. But at the same time, it is a strong moment, the kind of moment when you take a deep breath and reflect upon how awesome the surroundings really are. Then there was something about a library, and then I woke up smiling, so glad I had a dream–