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…

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