Friday, September 22, 2017

Components of Material Superiority: Good v. Evil

Jenome cannot be beaten in this kind of environment. From a great distance, a "good" civilization can defeat a "bad" one, or a growing one can defeat a decaying one, but on Terra we do not face this kind of situation. Perhaps millennia ago, when our transport was limited, and it might conceivably take centuries of invention for civilizations to come into contact--in our limited historical perspective, Jenome came about then, and everything since has been the sorrows of loss.

How can we throw back the decay? Solve what seems to be the great existential problem of the age? Win?

We cannot. Let's discuss how, from an individual and collective perspective. Throughout, we will use "good" and similar terms in reference to behaviors and/or individuals which attempt to expand the complexity of light-channeling mechanisms, and "evil" and similar terms in reference to those which attempt to prevent such complexity, reduce it, stabilize it with the goal of preventing or reversing natural expansion, et cetera.

The weakness of humanity. A decent person, upon being acquainted with another person, will recognize the humanity in the other person. Even if a stupid person, a violent person, a dishonest person, et cetera, the person is rightly perceived as different than a stone; if not for his inherent value as a human, then for the greater complexity over the rock which the human represents.

Imagine, then, an environmental catastrophe where split-seconds are at issue. The person who sees the other person as a rock is unfettered by any thoughts of cooperation, kinship, or mercy. In the escape from a rockslide, the man willing to lie, exploit others' sense of kinship, climb over the backs of others, and kick them away when they reach for help after a boost, is more likely to survive. Ergo any willingness to see others as more or less complex than they are is hurtful to chances of success in a material world.

Consider philosophers' reminders of the terrible costs of misplaced compassion upon the future of one's people. If only soft targets had been pre-emptively targeted; if only subversives had been prevented from leaving, let alone encouraged to join other enemies or subsidized for years at terrible cost; if only nastier methods had been used, more akin to what history was planning to accuse anyway. The price of having a soul is failing and being not remembered, or perhaps being remembered inaccurately. It is not conducive to material success, for a nanosecond's question about degrees of purity in the instant cleanse is failure when you are competing against a true believer who would not suffer such hesitation.

The weakness of groups. This same principle extends to groups. Materially, the group which is willing to exterminate all evidence of a competing group, make it taboo for generations, and let the competing group effectively vanish, will always prove more effective at material survival than the group which behaves otherwise. We delude ourselves otherwise only because of the relatively newfound capability of erase-groups to reach, through charity, non-erase-groups. The material prizes produced by those willing to acknowledge, remember, or even learn from their former enemies, are pleasant things, but when in proximity to each other, the willingness of one side to destroy the treasures of another, set against the hesitation of the other side to do the same in return, cripples material success.

Believing in something better. Any belief in something better than material competition is similarly cursed by the material world, for it shrinks the total sum of possible actions available to an individual or group. An individual willing to rape 100 victims enjoys vastly more material success than an individual who rescues and shelters one potential victim, raises it to adulthood, reproduces ten healthy offspring with them, and teaches said offspring to act similarly. Mathematically, even randomizing victim-choices, all of the decent people will eventually become not so, through being the raped offspring of non-rapists, the exterminated weaklings of the martial planet, or the exponentially outnumbered speck in the verse.

The world quickly becomes a rapist's kingdom of necessity. Similarly, those who cultivate ever fall to those who pillage. If it weren't for the soldiers, we would all be soldiers. Any peoples who tried to differentiate themselves from this material maxim would be pillaged, and their accumulated wealth, in material or material techniques, fall to those who found themselves on theft.

We recognize these principles in some form, because our entertainment since civilizations have blended has been based around dealing with individuals and/or groups who do not conform. If we establish behavioral norms, but someone doesn't comply, we recognize them as a material danger. Some of us make the material mistake, though, of recognizing a material benefit as a danger due to conjectured concepts of sole, imaginary kinship, or undiscoverable transmaterial value. If a group does not comply, but we are hampered by norms regarding perceptions of groups versus individuals, we are unable to assess the problem. Any form of honesty, forthrightness, sense of justice, et cetera, becomes toxic in the same way that it is among individuals facing other individuals who do not follow the same moral code: the skull-smasher takes the farmer's produce, invents a rationale for slavery, and the farmer either becomes a slave-farmer or becomes dead and willfully forgotten.

(Our history is a fantasy where we try not to think about the once-supermajority of decent peoples who are not only no more, but who are materially forgotten. In these last few thousand years of decomposition, we think of life more as a struggle because of what it took to get here. "Oh, it had to be done; there was no other way." What ugly lies to pass for pretty ones! As Terra closes on the end of its cycle of utility, this pattern will grow more pronounced.)

What proves interesting at this stage of lightform development is any illusion that transcendent material norms can or should adjust the material process. A moral deity does not, of course, come to punish the man who escapes the landslide by lying about being lame and then refusing to help the others over the ridge once he has himself been hoisted. But should a moral deity do so? We take the absence of such assistance, in any form, as proof that there either is no moral deity, or that the moral deity is reserving his judgment for later, which results in deserved terrible assessments of such hypothetical moral deity. The unblinking eye of said moral deity has even proven a boon to the wicked, for promises to pay tenfold in a hundred years are unverifiable at best. Ergo we struggle with the quandary--but what we fail to see is the material struggle is necessarily this way, and it would be even more selfish were it governed by guidelines which drew their reasoning from greater future material rewards. I.e., if I don't climb others' backs to escape the landslide because Moral Deity will reward me with chocolate and/or gold and/or orgasms later, I am more material than those who honestly perform the climb for survival. Such a moral deity is also become an immoral deity, but that is beside the point; the point for the moment is the impossibility of beating material evil in a material setting, ever.

(We rightly view it as ridiculous that everyone might play nicely, because this kind of existence will always have mean-players, without whom the lessons of materialism cannot be learned. We thank Jenome for its utter harshness, its petty selfishness, because without that purity, we cannot truly understand the material world. We think we are plagued by the logical extremes of these phases of existence. Again, this one reminds you to not give up and to believe in a transmaterial "nice" materialism if you will; everyone finds their path, and by all means play to win. Me telling you that you can't win should be immaterial for you, yuk yuk.)

Better farming cannot be accomplished alongside better soldiering when there is no separation, for the toddlers' brigades will ever favor the skull-smashers over the seed-strokers. Even half a tenth of a percentile devoted to seed-stroking produces an aggregate loss in skull-smashing capability, ergo the 100% fighters always kill the ~%99.999 fighters, and the only agriculture that can remain after full contact is the kind based on random chance or profitable lies. The idealist who, therefore, argues that we can beat the evil by retaining our goodness and being vindicated in the end is simply anti-mathematical; on Terra, we are beyond any point of separation, and are constantly monitored, such that any innovations are discovered and controlled before they may be used to win.

It's rather a case of having the same bite twice, or as they say here, having your cake and eating it too, when Terrans argue that materialism can be won through non-materialist behavior. Our great acknowledged philosophers grapple with this unsolvable "riddle" of why the world rewards badness. In part this is because the material victory is desired, but in part because the material victory is recognized as existentially insufficient by those who will move on. As a result, it is crippling to confront materialism from a transmaterial perspective, where one imagines that materials as we now know them can or will be won by behaving in the opposite fashion of a material victory. This is a common trope throughout the recent ages; if only we can forgive harder, turn more cheeks, et cetera, we will be vindicated in some form of the here and now (even the "there and then" is conceptualized as a here and now, albeit a better one).

Whether or not this seeming conundrum be resolved eventually in favor of the good is somewhat irrelevant compared to the decision between materialism and non; like being able to eliminate an earlier level of education now that one is more advanced, the implication that tests will no longer be required negates the value of having gone though the test, ergo negates the individual's achievement as well as forestalling it to all others Why, say, would a moral god, or a developing system, require such a test were it not toward some purpose? Are souls to be of finite number? If one can win materialism non-materially, what does that act say about the worthlessness of all prior evolutions? We see, then, that the materialism versus beyond divide is more of a plausible deciding point than a test. With it apparent to all how success may be obtained--at the expense of others, say--we have the choice to embrace or reject the material; to become agents of the material world, or to believe, despite all promises to the contrary, that there is more. It's a persistent, contrafactual doubt for those who suffer it. If you do, challenge yourself to explain the competitive material utility of an evolved question that the transmaterial may exist. Not a hypothetical purpose for it, like an extra arm, but something that would have, under material-focused evolution, provided a true and consistent benefit.

(There is none; among materialism's objective material failures is its inability to create itself, and its concomitant ability to become something more than the material. We see echoes of this jealous lack in material's constant arguments that it did, in fact, create itself, and does, in fact, have built-in a higher but unseeable form of itself [strings and dimensionolgy as modern versions of primordial waters and paradises]. For those who have fallen for the lure that air-lungs developed randomly while ammonia lungs did not, do try to contemplate also the benefits of moral qualms about eliminating an unknown newborn animal, versus the evolved trait to cook [or merely ignore] such a sight. Best Possible World theory imagines a benefit that, among animals not so husbanded, returned compassion is a massive time-sink at best, and more likely an invitation to co-evolved diseases, bitten hands, and resource-waste. Our imaginary histories always make random evolution a difficult pill to swallow. The Nu Euro remains, as ever, fond of the idea that anti-material behavior has material benefits. "Sociology" indeed.)

Any hesitation in killing an “innocent” witness; a percentile’s second slowdown in removing a competitor; a late-life pang of worry that some undiscoverable action shall cause wrong: mortal peril to the materially successful. Forgiveness without binding promises; admitting that the dead had potentially rational reasons for disliking you; any form of affection for honesty or memory which favors objective (transmaterial) truth over immediate and/or potentially exponential material gain is a materially evolutionarily flaw, harshly resisted ("punished") by the material world. Our historical failure to achieve confessions of evils is not primarily due to a grand conspiracy as to the evolved materialism of its winners, who must act in such a way because they do not believe an alternative does nor can exist. Ergo this one’s consistent lack of concern about telegraphing the ways in which the “mass mind” here might be overcome; victory is never a thing of here, and something which is not material does not exist to the materialist, ergo cannot be a threat.

Any form of resistance to material masters is perceived by them as a hateworthy threat, for materialism succeeds by being comprehensively material, ergo decaying processes, which always win. The lack of a threat to which this one refers is the threat to transmaterial, e.g., the idea that the comparative third dimension may be harmed by anything sketched in two dimensions. We do not, cannot, risk paradise by occasionally (materially) manifesting a hope in it.

The triumph of the material is, then, anyone’s triumph, for any material triumph is the material triumph, with the rewarded actor merely a vessel for a greater worldview. All will be gone eventually, whether in a hundred years, five trillion years, et cetera, for in material there is no permanence; indeed, there is almost a visceral hatred of the idea that something could be more profound or lasting than the material.

Evil loves and fears deities only so much as they threaten material success, ergo ascetics are not the threat that hypocritical megachurches might theoretically be. As westernized philosophies go, then, this is why we see such assiduous interest in promoring “quiet acceptance” religions versus “prove your worth” ones, ergo the replacement of paganism via tiered Yahweh-worship. In any discussion of transmaterialism, we witness the long history of delusions regarding its potential existence, and its eerie assistance by materialists wishing to have fewer people against whom to compete.

To be materially effective, we must not have "souls," for any consideration of the non material hamstrings the material. We can imagine a web of interconnected rewards whereby this principle is violated, but such is as much a transmaterial fantasy as a paradise of material rewards provisioned out to those who shun them in the material. It is always a material loss to not be material, and part of being here is accepting that. No permitted trace remains of societies which permitted transmaterial philosophies to reproduce. In modernity, the extremely stupid may imagine a separation from the material, an illusory rejection of the means by which material demands were overcome, but at a longer time scale, the flaw can be seen. The wealthy heir, therefore, who gives away great-great-grandfather's colonial fortune in the name of good, must be a material failure, and his deception that his means of survival--perhaps by selling pieces of evil for bread and mansions--is endurable only inasmuch as the world concedes the true source of the wealth, e.g., as long as colonial treasure remains. The homeless, too, may eventually realize that their ability to accept largesse springs from the same society which crushes children's bones to provide justification for managers to buy themselves imaginary freedom via largesse; the only survival here is some concession to materialism, ergo none are innocent except perhaps the long- or quickly-dead.

The ascetic, ironically, is a failed materialist more than a proto-transmaterialist. In the defining of the self by rejection of the material, we see a philosophy where material is so important that escaping it must mean defining one’s existence here in opposition to the material, which actually embraces it. We can probably see this most easily in the ascetic-related religions of Nu Euro peoples, who have proven how strong is their attachment to their material failure that they define existential opposition to matter by inverted fascination with it--while still eating, but this is only part of the humor, for even the successfully suicidal are often conceding the current mastery of materialism over their souls.

If you have a taste for the transmaterial, there is and can be no victory in materialism, because it spawns its own destruction as it goes. Imagine, say, a planet where all have died except parasites. Their only course is to then continue consuming, and the only remaining prey is they themselves. In the competition to be the most material, sustainable materialism of a slave-planet is a nice fantasy, but can last little more than a few thousand years, for materialism defines itself by comparative worth, and pleasurable excesses which can only be measured by the lacks of others eventually foster classification, which mandate intra-class competition, which means parasites will end up eating each other, no matter how initially stable their societies become. To be sure, no one of any transmaterial philosophy enjoys the slave’s life. Making the decision of what to pursue is part of what you do here. Embrace the material, or not. Material victory is loss, because--for this one, at least--a septillon years of pleasure is still finite, therefore essentially worthless, paled by eternity, shrunk to comparative nothingness, and even within that hell, necessarily repetitive to the point of keenest torture. No problem for materialists, for whom there is no truth, therefore repetitive illusions perpetually soothe. It is the transmaterial phantasms of eternal growth which can frighten to the point of brilliance causing material aversion, and in time, each one will decide which it prefers. There, and only there, is where truth and honor begin to have their place, not as hobbles but as something different; their lingering sense revealed purposeful rather than components of badly-rationalized material utilitarianism. Being able to understand that is not faith, nor is it reason, for it cannot be seen through reason alone. As ever, glimpses of such thoughts remain indecipherable to those who cannot see them, for they cannot fathom eternity nor any transmaterial forms. Whether or not you can, there is no particular reason to be offended in any case, for it remains scientific and objectifiable that things are, then, worthless, for material contrasts necessary build existences of no inherent value.

In modern parlance, how childish, how broken it is to imagine that the material struggle can be not only won, but be fought in superior fashion, burdened of things not of this world! In a way, this one supposes that the difficult recognition of the nature of this ever-sinking pit is a necessary step for ever departing it.

Friday, September 15, 2017

Nyss, Aether Holes, and the End of Realities

Homer wrote, "A man without words is like a man without legs." Numberless literacy programs have plumbed every last vestige of meaning from the quote, but I still feel it has its place.

Who is Homer? Who was Homer? If he is referenced in sources that referenced historical events referenced contemporaneously; if he is referenced in texts which reference one another; if he is referenced in sources which reference tangible anthropological digs: if he is or was or will be any or all of these things, does that make him real, or does that make him more worthy of our attention? Why should mentioning his name in association with an idea matter? These questions we beg every time we quote someone we have not met. And why shouldn't we beg them? Our existence is tautological. Why not, then, cite Shakespeare every chance we get?

The Murder is Just the Excuse

"Mystery" is dross. The absurd specialization within a specialization, so ossified it no longer needs to justify itself. It has its own stickers and its own assumptions. Like watching consumer unboxing videos where someone completes a sudoku for your enjoyment. "Ohh, darn, I had it all wrong! Line four had me completely fooled!"

The murder is just the excuse to keep everyone trapped in the proverbial country mansion, forced to interact with each other. Without the search for clues, normal social laziness and isolationist rebuffs keep people from doing anything interesting. Forcing it to happen by investigating a murder is like forcing sex to happen in a porno based around some dude's inconceivably young and busty mother-in-law catching him jacking off the day after Christmas. Santa Claus is coming back to town. This is a plot? What about the pizza delivery fellow and the lonely sorority lasses? Murder porn's empty rationales for happening at all translates flawlessly into any cultural era. Prissy Gatsbies in silk jackets chasing down rogue Scottish valets for the burly sergeant to send to the dungeons--as easily done as African biochemists figuring out it really was the mentally ill white teenager's perversions being covered up by the corrupt father who threw the soiree to end childhood obesity. "Oh, those yaks don't leave much behind, Inspector--better call this one a day." "I always thought they had a man on the inside--nobody dies in Mongolia on my watch!"

Why was the murder even necessary? Are we all so empty inside we can't imagine having random sex with the pizza dude without first dropping our change in the foyer? It's like we want something to happen, but we're afraid to have it happen without some external artifice forcing it upon us. How compelling will all of this be, anyway, once bending your busty secretary over the desk while your wife screws the pizza boy across town loses its taboo? The plastic background plants are the same, and the coffee never gets any better. We only care about interpersonal quirks if it helps us solve the killing or justify the sex. Or if someone's running for office. God, if Hillary had only been a MILF, we could've all had more than a passing interest in those missing lawyers. Maybe the television is smarter than we think--maybe it's how the ugly people convince the others that villains all have tight bodies and interesting backstories.

The Journey is the Destination

The journey isn't the destination because you're supposed to find meaning in it. The journey is the destination because the concept of a "journey" is of residual mental importance. We can appreciate "going somewhere." And since there's a journey--a trip to some important event--we're forced to put up with each other. Like the murder that keeps us all trapped in the mansion until we get this damned thing sorted out. Without the journey, we have nothing. We need that excuse. Who gives a fuck about why the two brothers have always hated each other unless it might be a vital clue to exonerate the dowager countess from deliberately building up a small immunity to absinthe and humors so she wouldn't pass out with all the others when her maid spiked the dessert tray before Baron Portbelly was found slumped dead in the punch? We secretly care about the two brothers and their drama and their shouted stories about the village girl who got away, but we can't bring ourselves to admit it unless it's forced out of them in the context of the murder investigation.

Do we really need an uncaring chief inspector to lay bare all those secrets? Maybe we truly long for a world where cunning criminals are not also politicians who control who, how, and whether or not there will be an investigation. We want evil free agents, unbound by the need to pretend to be governments, engaged in extended battles of encoded wit with police inspectors who occasionally order pizza to-go for lunch on Saturday in their shredded denim short shorts and a low cut blouse. Oops, my change. Here, let me...mmph! Ooh!

Jesus, is the problem with the house's foundation really necessary? Just cut to the shaking part. Get rid of that toolkit before somebody trips over it.

Nyss

Moving along: Terra will likely not be part of it, but a common sign of reality failure is the early appearance of aether holes. We address the problem of technology outstripping intelligence, which is really technology outstripping will. The culture which develops the gun gives gun access to the culture which did not develop the gun: problems mount. Once Pandora's Box has been opened~

But I came here to talk, first, about Nyss. In part. There's no comparable root here, but "Nyss" is a close-enough fake, especially if I capitalize it every time. This one once dwelt on a planet where we never had any "technology," i.e. "more-inert ways of accomplishing things," because we had Nyss. Nyss were big, useful animals, strong and tall and pertinaciously smart, somewhat resembling tree sloths the size of buildings--say, a small one comparing to a single wide mobile home and a large one to an outdated community center in an old town. Imagine that these things were so useful...they shed nutritious skin and hair, so you could essentially scrape food off their hides, a wide variety of nutritious food, and they wanted nothing more than to help. They did anything anyone told them to, except speak, since they couldn't talk. So once language had been developed, "man" had no use for agriculture, architecture, navigation, aviation, et cetera. Want to eat? Nyss shed everywhere. This one gets that it sounds gross here, but imagine that Nyss sheddings were not something that made you sick. Maybe because it had happened so long we all had iron stomachs, or maybe because this was a low- or no- bacteria environment. Not sure, since we never found out. It just worked that way. Stuff they shed, you could eat, and there were all the calories, vitamins, minerals--and drinking any water was okay without being sick, so the bacteria and/or accustomization issue comes in there, too.

Ergo no need for agriculture. Go further: imagine you want shelter. Nyss know wood joinery. Nyss rarely sleep. Nyss can pull up plants and construct dwellings that keep the weather at bay. If one wants to travel, Nyss can hit like a couple hundred mph without trying, or two hundred seventyish if they're in a big hurry. They can swim with people on their backs, the bigger ones can wade big rivers, and so forth. No need for so many things to be developed. They can carry messages. They can sit scratching themselves and do nothing for ten years if no one bothers them. Not even sure what they ate...dirt or something like that. An image of limbs, hair...gills? Remembering that kind of detail...why bother? Just Nyss.

Accordingly, in such an environment, there's a lot people don't care about, which affects other things which affects other things. Whether or not this one really believes this one was in such a place, it's an example of needs-based science, or "necessity is the mother of invention." Or "want is the mother of..." With Nyss, very few--none?--are interested in fixing/inventing the things Nyss can already do. 2017 Terran airplanes are faster than Nyss (though generally not as comfortable and never as convenient), but when you don't need to first domesticate the horse, then build horseless carriages, then gradually improve them for decades, but just go straight to around 300MPH (again, just guessing, sorry), or conversely, ask a few Nyss to move a house to a better place and have it all done in an hour, why bother with years and years of trouble for this gross belching smelly thing that can go 10MPH and breaks down and requires a local or an international network of "roads" to be barely workable? If a train can carry a bunch of shipping crates full of amazon.com orders, subject to even more stringent requirements and even bigger costs, but a Nyss can carry a crate or two cross-country way faster, why even bother? The incrementalization of "progress" stymies so much.

No one will care here, but the by-products of the desire to pursue more consistent everyday junk--say, smartphones or heart surgery coming about as the result of agriculture--sometimes prove more useful than Nyss. And yet, these things don't get developed in the presence of easier answers. There are few wars when Nyss don't like fighting, and since it would be insane to kill them, the economy of plenty never ended. Here we like to say, "necessity is the mother of invention," which isn't true. There are many nicer places than a planet full of Nyss where invention nonetheless occurs. Occurs better than Terra. It is a question not of necessity, but of quality of mind. "Necessity is the mother of invention" is a saying for the incurious, or perhaps the overly charitable, speculating on what they believe are their forebears. In reality, people of a certain quality can invent things, and I did a plot-pivotal stretch in said Nyss-populated planet where it was considered a loony hobby to make primitive computer-things that were really quite useless unless you were insane enough to imagine them maintaining future atmospheric stability or whatever. Never got to see the end of that story, thankfully.

The point is, on that planet there were a vast majority of people who consistently didn't give a damn about "invention," and for them, the Terran saying ("Necessity is...") was true. But there were a minority for whom it was not true. And it was the equivalent of a large-scale social problem, and many people opined about it, and ultimately what I took away was that for some people, necessity is the mother of invention--but not because they were going to invent things themselves. Rather, the weirdness came, in a way somewhat similar to here, in that those people got really pissed off, metaphysically bothered, when others tried to invent things that weren't necessary. And it was weird, and creepy, and years in the figuring-out. There was something in people who were bothered by the idea that Nyss weren't "meant" to last forever (of course they could've lasted the planet's lifetime, and been moved to a new one depending on spaceflight prowess of the descendants of the non-necessity-inventors), but millions of years before that point, it just pissed them off that anybody would be so ridiculous as to invent a calculating machine. Why? What made the aversion to change so pronounced? (Mixed sort of Balrin/Bajirin, tending more toward the latter, if that matters.)

Aether Holes

Different stage: long past spaceflight, imagine if you would the development of technology that we can liken to "wormholes" but without all the dissonance and bullshit there, where the attempt to travel from one side of a galaxy to the other becomes eventually as lengthy and involved as using the microwave (Bazin, generated by blue planets, anecdote. The best imho, but this one knows that's influenced by revulsion to here to some degree). So you press a button and go through the hole and you're in the new place. When people are sufficiently mature, there's no problem with this. Just a tool. When they're not, though, we're back to the murder mystery conundrum: people who can't enjoy or understand Murder on the Orient Express without the train ride; who don't give a damn about politics unless someone's screwing an intern. Once the excuse for all "stuck traveling" stories is gone, nothing happens. People die slow and don't even care about bringing everything along with them. In some sense, we understand this, which is why we know there'd need to be some sort of vetting process for our paradise, since unequipped minds would wreak dreadful havoc. And aether holes, as simple unemotional tech, are good in that they provide easier movement. But...do you put one in front of the toilet, so you can pee from the couch without getting up? Or from under the table while you're out with your friends? No cool space wars happen with aether holes, or they're entirely different, since capital ships become redundant (assume no bullshit about gravity variance justifying broadsides near pivotal planets) and you can just create a tiny handful of them inside the enemy parliament's gray matter and that's that.

And that's all fine, but what happens when people lose their lust for everything? Not just peeing from the couch, so to speak, but adjusting the digestion so that waste is automatically transferred out, and good stuff in, and there's no need for eating or sleeping, let alone traveling? There are souls that can handle that. There are "people" for whom, at a certain stage, the aether hole (or whatever name you prefer, I'm just pulling local mythical terms as best possible guess-lations) becomes a practicality on par with the microwave. Yes, it can destroy every family dinner if it's the only thing you (over)use, but aside from idiots who never learn to actually cook (no offense), it's useful. (And imagine hypothetical future Terran "microwaves" don't have similar deleterious effects on food, but which still accomplish the more profound, longer-latency task of leaving the unevolved ill-equipped to handle their relationship with "food.")

The scarring pyrexia comes, and realities are destroyed, when the aether hole is presented to people who aren't developed enough for it. Think again of the man who receives a derringer without years of intensive training and meditation, or the tribal savage who does the same with the same lacks and/or without generations of comparable tech development built into his genome, thereby residually instilling something of the same. Okay for some people, disaster for most, maybe all. And the aether hole can do that to entire galactic societies, turning everything into, if you will, pissing from the couch, and effectively dissembling reality.

The story, or metaphor if you will, is meaningful here because of the large quantity of idiots inhabiting Terra, who have found various things in advance of being prepared to use them. Again I say, imagine the disaster of supererogatory praises of body positivity succeeding in encouraging people to be grossly fat and unhealthy, then to cause everyone to subsidize everyone else's health: obvious disincentive to be healthy, since all you end up doing is slaving to the fat. Assume a higher level of tech on Terra, and the consequences grow more internally dire, though often aren't mass-recognized for centuries, if at all: development of perfect liposuction, or gene-therapy, such that people can have ideal bodies without developing the kinds of minds which cultivate them, and/or the kinds of minds which accept/understand temporary frames without permanent investment. Far worse; far more effective at destroying people. Imagine a toddler being promoted to emperor of the world without learning any of the toddler-lessons first. "Playing nice" isn't a lesson about playing nice so much as an indirect way of learning that others exist in a similar way to the self, both for positive and negative, and that there are lengths to which we will and won't go to apparently please or displease an other. Press a button and everyone plays nice automatically, we lose the ability to become smart enough to hypothetically "play nice" without the play-nice generator. Moving walkways everywhere cause primitive peoples to develop what we'd call deteriorating legs; everyone's a winner can mean no one's actually special; aether holes can cut self-investment in other areas where we'll eventually need things to move on. And that's part of what we do when we spiral toward graveyards--cut interests, cut necessities, and have a strong aversion to anything supplanting our current tech and/or ideas. So in the end, we see that it's not really any given "thing" which causes that deterioration, but that any thing at all can become a symptom of our own sense that the time is coming.

Traveling. Orient expresses. How many great conversations have you never had with someone because you were never trapped in the old high school gym together for three days to avoid the flooding? Or because it always ended up being five people on the trip and poor lugubrious you never got to take the second car with that one special passenger, together as just you two? Without the excuse, can you have the moment? We see some realization of the melting possibility in the way people want to have a perfect proposal, a perfect birthday, a perfect anniversary, a perfect relaxing evening alone, et cetera: we try to set stages because we've begun to realize that we can't do things without staging, but we're too bright to understand why that is or bring up the special subject completely on our own. "I need to talk to you" sounds a little foreboding, so we just can't do it. Do we have the capability (the "insight") to recognize--non-sexually, non-materialistically, et cetera--the people with whom we could have that great epiphany after being stuck on the road together during that hailstorm? We like routines, we like to not seem forward, we like to not force things--we're afraid that we'll stand out by being one of the few who may be developing traces of said capability. Why can't we see that, and have those conversations, or those ideas by our selves, if we're not trapped in the hail? Some of our deficiency here, that we swear we're working on, is the ability to feel and recognize those things, those avenues, without being forced into them. A few lucky "chance" moments in life, like someone holding baby-you over a toilet and seeing if you'll do the right thing there; will you ever learn to do it on your own, or are you too nervous? We may be retrospectively delighted when we are forced into them, and make movies about it, but we're not smart enough to fool ourselves into "relationships," even with ourselves, which we wouldn't have had without providential circumstance, and it's weird and otherworldly when we try to force it.

Sunday, September 10, 2017

Reich Side Story: Spengler's Share of the Decline

Jenomic material superiority is profound. This is not a game you can win. There is no people here which, upon attaining a certain collective literacy, is not then vulnerable to the masters of materialism; the swampborne children of the perpetual bloodbath, formed from the umbratile collective of scavenging ooze before which all must in time perish. The spawn of Africa, and the Pan-Siberian invaders, locked in their perpetual stone age, bereft of wheels and miserably illiterate, were by their very protean natures safe from the consequences of growing old, and provided no fertile ground for merchants who had only pillaged words and earthly stones to trade for labor. We, though, have paved the path, carrying out our role as others have done for us.

From the beginning of the process, Terrans capable of wordplay have been similarly vulnerable to it. Not only through mainstays of the age, like Jesus, but real prophets, like Oswald Spengler. Men, from those as venerable as Oliver, to as damaged and futile as Pleasureman, have fallen victim to Spengler's chicanery, teaching us of the power of duplicity; of our desire, in a dying world, to see the enemy of our enemy as a friend, for lack of any other allies. As an indeterminist determinist anti-racist white supremacist feminist pickup artist, Spengler ultimately serves one consistent agenda. He has, though, made many comments about them city folk which make him seem, like all succeeding counterarguments--including, again, Jesus--a scion of the anti-modernist. Both the Rand to the Marx and the Marx to the Rand, Spengler uses the normal merchant's linguistic tricks, as well as name-dropping and myth-citing, to appear (correctly) learned, which are taken by the Nu Euro to be reliable indicia of some level of trustworthiness. Ironically, then, we see Spengler strongly influencing twentieth-century national socialisms, twenty-first-century anti-globalisms, and sundry other movements which he was quite against.

It is pedantic of necessity to identify but a few of the ways that Spengler's work is harmful to the poor fools who would now make him their champion, for, like Nicholas Nassim Talmud, he has attained the affection of many needy, broken-souled, poorly-read Nu Euros, who are, as ever, impressed by choice terms of foreign languages, or choice heroes of foreign myths, artfully compared to their own understandings by someone who seems so cosmopolitan. Spengler's work is a stroke of evil genius because of its lasting ability to, like the Bible, pacify both "sides" of the illusory, yet very real, dichotomy which it helps create by assuming its existence.

It is the normative mockery of the pedant--the detail-oriented entity, who might otherwise sniff out and identify preliminary infiltration, regardless of her personal opinion, merits, or demerits--which keeps work like Spengler's viable after so many years. Modernity teaches us that imprecision and sloth are merits, leaving us unequipped to parse our revered founders. In large part, the lessons of arithmetic and handwriting, contra calculating machines, were about the means more than the ends, teaching process rather than result. Many of the details behind our inability to think ourselves out of current boxes are vindicating the un-hip, misunderstood holdouts of the process methodologies, whereby arithmetic is understood in a deeper way via abacus than on paper. Indeed, much of our enthusiasm for proving that we do actually understand science by over-funding non-science can be traced to our inability to maintain manifested abstractions while simultaneously calculating novel others.

It is appropriate for some to ride a contraption beyond these lower boundaries, and Jenomic mockery of old methods being unsatisfactorily applied to new technologies is often apt. Yet without having first learned to master the surmounting of lower skills--and for many Nu Euros, even after such a level of modest mastery is attained--forgetfulness of the process whereby the calculator becomes a genuine good is rampant, ergo we witness systemic failures of the highest order. Ergo the utility of pedant-mockery, now long accepted as healthy. It is no surprise that Oswald Spengler is viewed as the hero of his vivisected patients.

Like Nu Euro liberals visiting Disneyland in willful ignorance and defiance of its founding philosophy, Nu Euro conservatives (either pseudo-political designation merits air quotes for its fraudulent and confused nature) see the parts of Spengler, and those like him, that they want to see. Let us begin horrifying Nu Euro rightists with the history behind their Spenglers, Talmuds, and other imaginary fiscal allies against the treacherous globalists. In the most simple, most embarrassing way possible, all quotes of Spengler's will be from a single one of his works, Decline of the West, a highly influential piece of propaganda (targeted at more literate Nu Euros, like many early-twentieth-century incursions) designed to better effect the ongoing destruction of Europe and its replacement with a more pliant, less technologically threatening caliphate. For our purposes here, this choice is so apt because it is the most celebrated large work of the anti-urban Nu Euros who seek the wise Spengler's counsel against, say, Hillary. We're noting, here, not only how little they actually read or understood of Spengler's work, nor alone how they skipped pages in order to claim cognizance of a quite liberal treatise, but of how Spengler, like so many of the Jenomics, brags about and foreshadows the results of his work without any fear that anyone will understand.

All blockquotes herein are Spengler's.
Considered in itself, the Roman world dominion was a negative phenomenon, being the result not of a surplus of energy on the one side...but of a deficiency of resistance on the other.
We see here a Jared-Diamond-esque, anti-objective, anti-science perspective on Rome, wherein Rome was created not by Nu Euros who were not currently being attacked by as many Mongols or Negros as normal, but where its achievements--whether literary, architectural, administrative, et cetera--were not the result of who the Romans were, but of the random chance of their surroundings. Spengler here makes the point that is supposed to be anathema to "HBD" and "White" people, namely, that civilizations are produced as a result of outside factors--here, the "deficiency of resistance" to people placed under Roman rule, rather than demographics producing destiny. Romans did not design and build aqueducts because they were one of the few people who had the ability to do so, but because no one fought them hard enough to stop them.

And yet, the great sinner is himself lionized as one of the first who understood the truth. The liberals are, being slightly more pedantic within acceptable boundaries, able to know enough to reject him, but the conservatives don't even see deeply enough to know that, by their own standards, they are positively quoting the enemy.

(The Oswald embarrassment is comparable to getting a bunch of animal-rights-activists to praise the first-ever government to pass laws against the experimental dissection of live animals, or a bunch of public health advocates to accidentally praise the first government anti-smoking campaigns. If you don't know, guess who was behind the sexually exciting ritual torture of live animals and the sale of chem-dipped factory cigarettes, and it'll give you a good chance to speculate about what had to happen to the place that tried to interfere with said erotic torture and deadly business.)
Imperialism is Civilization unadulterated. In this phenomenal form the destiny of the West is now irrevocably set. The energy of culture man is directed inwards, that of civilization man outwards.
Spengler here gives away the long game of the European Wars, namely by associating (in the same set of years that produced the work Imperialism, the highest stage of Capitalism, which, like Spengler's works, was also written by a Jewish prophet of European death) Bank-fostered European emigration with Europe's intrinsic character. Like an Ashkenazi commentator leading the group apology for white privilege, Spengler pretends that European colonialism was planned by, and beneficial to, Europeans, caused by some innate desire of the Nu Euro to uplift and interbreed with pygmies, rather than by encouraged greed tempered with instilled Rabbi-worship. One of the "World War" era of Eurocidal works, Spengler's Decline of the West encourages interwar-period European peoples to be proud of "their" colonialism, yet to accept it as the death knell of their civilization. Like many a Jewish prophet foretelling the death of the people among whom he dwells, Spengler was correct in his predictions, if not honest in his rationalizations for those happenings.
It is the deepest and most characteristic tendency both of Darwinism - the megalopolitan intellectual product of the most abstract of all Civilization is - and of the materialist conception of history which springs from the same root as Darwinism and, like it, kills all that is organic and fateful.
Another interesting juxtaposition of Spengler's that reveals the flux of his assigned time period. This argument seems to critique Darwinism, yet Spengler's work is itself a variation of Darwinism, in the sense that he argues that the West has declined (and will continue to do so) because of irresistible forces of nature common to all civilizations, as though Europe prior to the advent of the desert god would have, on the same or a similar scale, adopted slave-trading, land concessions, state torture, missionary economies, and speculative class warfare. While most television-addled Nu Euros today can be excused their inability to conceive of the spate of assassinations and revolutions, the financiers, and the seemingly inexplicable alliances preceding the "World War," Spengler during the time of his writing was quite aware of the ethnic cui bono behind the initial and ongoing conflicts, and the nature of the Weimar Republic, and yet his work was designed expressly to calm the Nu Euro. "Your decline is part of the Faustian soul," he says. "It is nobody's fault but your own. Lie still; do not try to figure it out."
[T]he "exact" historian enunciated the proposition that in the history picture we had before us a sequence of "states" of mechanical type which were amenable to rational analysis...and that therefore causes, means, methods and objects were capable of being grouped together as a comprehensible system...
Again we see Spengler making his point that history is an inexplicable series of unrelated events, behind which no genetic factors can have recognizable or predictive influence. Like N.N. Talmud's Black Swan, Spengler is keenly interested in reassuring the men of the west that there is nothing they could have done to void this historical cycle.

Spengler's argument is "nurture, not nature." Throughout his work, he appears to be almost racially minded, but only compared to times when race is more taboo. A 2017 conservative who believes Oswald Spengler a supporter of racial or genetic performance is making an error similar to a 2017 liberal who believes Abraham Lincoln a supporter of affirmatively furthering fair housing.

First published in 1922, Decline of the West represents a moderating influence on biological science, prior to the time that the Boasian strain had been fully developed. For all the specific SWPL-ish critiques Oswald makes of "city folk" (the neo-urbanites he critiques as being independently responsible for Europe's fall, as opposed to the low-tech rural populations he flatters, thereby making him seem appealing to Nu Euros who realize something is wrong with their societies), he is, like other Jenomic critics, equally willing to levy those same critiques at other cultures, and to suggest that the process is shared by all peoples, irrespective of history and genetics. He sees the rise and fall of the proto-technology-building societies of "the West" (the last bastion then remaining to Nu Euros after their nearly complete extermination and subsidiary Mongol/Negro takeovers elsewhere in the globe) as part of an inevitable historical process whereby civilizations rise and fall with no decisive outside influence of any kind (notice the similarity between Spengler's perspective on fading Europe, and his modern equivalents' perspectives on false-flags). Decline of the West is, for those who actually read and process the whole thing, a pseudo-apologetic ("I'm so sorry you hit yourself like that!") prophecy of how Europe would be led to believe that it destroyed itself.

(This one criticizes Nu Euros, and they deserve it; they are immensely stupid and sincrafted, particularly now, and particularly in comparison to what was lost. It should be noted, though, that some strains still persist of those who were killed or tortured en masse to produce the desired behavior, rather than those who accepted it independently, fawningly, or through a more fundamental stupidity. It did take centuries of terror to accomplish the production of the Nu Euro, and those alive today may still bear some of the better legacy: those who may proudly trumpet when forced, but who still privately doubt, the enduring justice of this place as-perceived.)

Raised on Goethe, Oswald says--and what a nasty delight he takes in despoiling the thought of Faust and Gretchen, and in identifying with Mephistopheles, that hideous perverter!--Nu Euros could not help but establish radical feminism, repressing states and localities, and dramatically changing central laws, all on their own, and without any outside influence whatsoever, so as to cause their societies to fall. This is the express opposite of today's Nu Euro "nationalist" argument; and yet, Spengler is cited, and very nearly revered, by a people not intelligent enough to understand what they're buying.

(Ashkenazi in crypsis have obvious reasons for promoting their kinsman Spengler, but their dull-witted fans, and particularly those who claim to understand the actual question involved, should know better.)

Charles Martel, and the other pre-Carolingian and Carolingian tools, is perhaps a good comparison of how, if Nu Euros survive in some form, their descendants will think of Donald Trump: the falsity of a great leader of the people, defender from outsiders and preserver of realms, his insidious and indirect slaughter of more-independent strains treated as a pragmatic necessity.
The Minoan art of Crete is pure craft art, a northern outlier of Egyptian post-Hyksos taste...
What a delightful poison to slip in so innocuously! Decades after influential scholars of a certain ethnicity had banded together to propound the notion that Egyptian civilization--and, more importantly, the architectural and literary veneer which lent it prominence--had been created by Hamitic and Semitic peoples, Spengler slips in his telegenetic understanding that it was actually the "Hyksos" (Jenomic invaders; "migrating Semites" or "enslaved Semites," in local parlance) peoples who had destroyed Egypt, and who had turned its remains into plagiarized stone and myths. (See The Jenomic Process on Terra.) This is of significance separate from our current focus, where we see that it has been the perennial understanding of Jenomics: they know, in their mass consciousness, who truly built Egypt, who should be thought to have built Egypt, how Egypt "fell," and accordingly, how other lands would fall and what they would look like afterward.
In the world of this light...it comes to pass that seeing, human herds wander upon the face of this little earth star, and that circumstances of light - the full southern flood over Egypt and Mexico, the greyness of the north---contribute to the determination of their entire life.
Spengler probably did not mean to wax so extraterrestrial here, but merely to offer perspective. Even so, he has revealed the "elder" (gray coloration) imagery he associates with the thinking bastion of life ready to be harvested, and the inevitability of the process. Here he is not at all inaccurate, but for today's purported White Nationalists, his prediction of the death of the global north should prove a difficult pill for them to swallow. Not so, for they mostly read him in blurred summaries, exploiting his shared quotations in critique of urbane androgyny and brahmin separation from the means of production (Spengler was a false critic of Marx, much as today's American critics of Trump obfuscate to powerlessness the question of 1965; interested Marxists will note how Spengler's lengthy critiques often terminate in validation of the so-called Marxist principles that would be, after his work, so successfully employed). At that time, those quotes seem to validate them, for they are indirectly criticizing Nu Euro liberals who dwell in bigger settlements than they do, and Spengler seems a pragmatic friend.

In mind of the effective distraction of "urban goy versus rural goy," take particular note of this of Spengler's more worthwhile passages, which draws less upon name-dropping, and more upon his telegenetic experience:
In the earliest time the landscape figure alone dominates man's eyes. It gives form to his soul and vibrates in tune therewith. Feelings and woodland rustlings beat together; the meadows and the copses adapt themselves to its shape, to its course, even to its dress. The village, with its quiet hillocky roofs, its evening smoke, its wells, its hedges, and its beasts, lies completely fused and embedded in the landscape. The country town confirms the country, is an intensification of the picture of the country. It is the Late city that first defies the land, contradicts Nature in the lines of its silhouette, denies all Nature. It wants to be something different from and higher than Nature. These high-pitched gables, these Baroque cupolas, spires, and pinnacles, neither are, nor desire to be, related with anything in Nature. And then begins the gigantic megalopolis, the city as world, which suffers nothing beside itself and sets about annihilating the country picture...here the picture is of deep, long gorges between high, stony houses filled with colored dust and strange uproar, and men dwell in these houses, the like of which no nature being has ever conceived. Costumes, even faces, are adjusted to a background of stone.
The passage is inapt in reference to sub-Saharan Africans, who, despite Spengler's occasional allusions to the commonality of universal mankind, are not his actual target. Semites themselves never developed the harmonic village, and though some Hamites may have, their achievements in that regard were little loftier than those of the sub-Saharan African. Yet it is the Nu Euro who nears death in his ossified, hospital-esque cities, the art and architecture of which Spengler recognizes as we may recognize a human body's aging process. Spengler's work here is not a critique so much as a diagnosis; but it is, again, one which the modern race-realist would not support, if he understood it, for it implies that all humans will reach this age, and be ready for death at the hands of the younger races, just as Terra and Sol will ultimately go quiet in favor of other, younger systems. It is quite an opportunity to see Spengler, an almost-mischling, writing of Terra's future during such a pivotal time as the Great War, and comforting us with the promise that others have gone through what we are facing, and that others still will follow the same path once we are gone.

We observe again the "racial denialism" inherent in his work, which should make him repugnant to Nu Euro race realists who are excited to have been given access to test scores. The portrayal of the very finest African mud-hut juxtaposed alongside the Burgos Catedral is a pointed and amusing one, as is the juxtaposition of income- and zip-code-based SAT scores by race. Yet it is a similar comparison, on a necessarily more demanding scale, to read posts where an aging nationalist and respected commentator cites Spengler as his ally. Spengler is indeed an ally, but not in the sense in which they would prefer--rather, like the executioner is an ally to the suffering prisoner to whom he comes to attend professionally--but his work is protracted, and its misunderstanding has gone on long enough that the body begins to reek with new levels of intensity. In the youngest and the oldest Nu Euro traditionalist, we see the inability to process what is coming, just as we see his material inferiority to his deathspeaker.

After a minimum of twenty-four centuries of warning, there are fewer thrashes of the limbs, and those that do come are not as strong or as directed as before. No one will remember to close the door, even when all the flowers have been knocked over and the cash has gone missing from your wallet. The lights grow dim, and downstairs, they have already eaten half the cake, forgotten why it was there, and are ordering new mansions with their inheritance as security. Although no one's bank account has yet gone up, the carry-phones are fresh and clean, the food is tasty, and a wonderful new god waits to usher in a brighter future.

Monday, September 4, 2017

Gay Destruction: the Anti-Gay

When will the hammer fall?

For many scrubbed thousands of years, homosexuals and homosexuality were not a significant cultural issue and/or cultural problem. We never knew about those who knew how to behave, and those who didn't were crushed in bogs, until Jesus arrived to shelter them in monasteries with vows to receive orphans, to confess boys, to never touch girls, and to never punish boy-touchers. The results of these incredibly successful, foresighted attacks have been powerful, though at a time-scale slow enough that Nu Euros only (begin to) recognize (a small part of) it "too late."

And then, like someone who didn't see the light turn green seven seconds ago but has now heard the honking, they accelerate away from the intersection really fast, as though that proves they were paying attention all along. "Make extramarital innuendo illegal again!" And they decide sex is bad, which was the goal of over-promoting it. Because the prime global havens for child-rape before the advent of nonprofits--the great institutions of education and worship--were also, non-coincidentally, the first anti-sex organizations to appear in Europe. The Nu Euro falls for the false-dichotomy trick again when he looks to the high acolytes of buggery to renew his civilization because of their earlier publicized history of either condom-condemnation or condom-promotion; the relationship between prurient meddlings is directly correlated.

Both Huxley and Orwell addressed sex in their dystopias. Huxley posited the destruction of sex by the profusion of sex, where character, privacy, mental and physical intimacy, and other aspects of love and/or pleasure were destroyed by their nominal excess, in the way that our extravagant network of newspaper stands and movie-feeds destroys creativity and entertainment by making it seem that there is actually an overabundance of those things. Orwell was more literal. Along with Huxley, he described the asexual, laboratory-style creation of children, but he also propagated his Evil Regime with Anti-Sex Leagues, offering an approach toward the strike against Eros that would've been more honest than would've been effective--a fact which he later admitted to Huxley.

Living in a more apparently Huxley-ish future, we've tended to ignore the insights of both types of dire prognosticator. Whether we've ignored Orwell more, or Huxley more, is debatable, given that Orwell's blunt approach to the subject may make him appear more naive, whereas Huxley's more subtle approach is often confused with a condemnation of the Eros he defends, and therefore he is often popularly viewed as leading the strike. Indeed, amidst today's seemingly bacchanalian abundance of food- and sex-products, we tend to fail to distinguish between McDonald's, Game of Thrones, and what they have replaced; the pagan gods of fertility and wine have long been murdered by their opposites, and it is unjust and stupid of us to perpetuate our belief otherwise.

Orwell only seems discredited based on our false assumptions from the present, anyway. He well recognized the aim of the processes then forming globally, for part of Winston's secret pleasures with Julia in 1984 was an act so "simple" as eating strawberry jam. Confronted with today's noxiously tart imitation of mass-fruit itself, let alone what passes for jam, Orwell didn't go far enough, but his connection of dystopian tyranny with being expressly anti-pleasure was apt.

This one asks when the hammer will fall because ritually strangling the corpse of Eros' last remaining succubal retainer--perhaps during an orgy, to make the insult greater--is a necessary part of the decomposition process. The older European practices of swiftly executing child-molesters and other socially-disruptive perverts was ended by Christianity, and we have been mistaken in viewing this as an act in service of pleasure, defiance, individuality, et cetera. In the long term, we will come to see that the reason for popularizing non-reproductive sex, affairs, homosexuality, porn, transsexuality, et cetera, was not, by any means, to promote any of these things, but to destroy them.

Consider marriage: a natural, human, loving, pleasurable, civilizational given which, once turned over to the Jewish-conceived, Turkish-enabled religion of "Christianity," and to the Jewish-conceived, Nu-Euro-enabled mini-globalism known as "the nation-state," became what it is now: a bureaucratic registry severed from any hints of its former self, both devaluing and destroying the communities and privacies that had birthed it.

As state- and church-registered marriage destroyed what was there before, so irrevocably that we would laugh at the inconceivability of those habits if we could even imagine or recognize them, the cloying Jenomic acceptance of other aspects of sexuality will sound their eventual death knell. Anyone lured into expressing or confessing her or his inclinations only makes it easier. We might have once bogged a murderer or a rapist, but, like establishing gun registries for non-criminals, our current structures are designed to help a mass-mind perceive pleasure, independence, creativity, self-restraint, and joy, wherever they may be found, and better effect their collective dampening.

Thursday, August 31, 2017

Time Scale

Whenever a nominally-liberal western leader would destroy some nominally-Arab or -African country, this one would have a number of related disagreements with nominally-liberal Nu Euros. There came the obvious issue of all the dead people--dead females, children, queers, transsexuals, endangered species, domestic pets, or environmental components of Mother Gaia. Whatever the preference was, I had no luck getting all but the most professedly liberal-liberals to give even a half-shit. Some of them enjoyed the destruction, because it ninny ninny showed those conservatives how tough liberals were. Others--probably a majority in occupied America--were against mass murder in the most sniveling of senses, feeling that yes, mass murder was bad, but it was unavoidable; it was, therefore, pragmatic to support a mass murderer who would kill fewer people than the other hypothetical mass murderer. Sure, Johnson butchered a million kids, but can you imagine how many more Goldwater would've killed? Repeat as necessary for any twentieth century Nu Euro leader, until the point where Obama is handpicking eight-month-olds to assassinate at weddings, and it's all okay because Romney would've killed three infants in contrast to Obama's merely two infants.

(Examining the only places to have ever shown signs of engaging in defensive-only war, eliminating chattel slavery, maintaining safe streets, et cetera, and examining the reasons why, were of course beyond discussion, then as now as later. Similarly, the source of the cultivated disbelief in good and evil that made not only Obama's murders, but Spencer's Ziobagging, in any way acceptable, and the Nu Euro's soulless acceptance of the tiniest iota of either, was and will remain beyond mainstream capabilities.)

Americans were so despicably murder-hungry that this one only got to discuss other concepts even more rarely. From a broader historical perspective, what Jenome has always been good at accomplishing is historical destruction, cyclically leaving us bereft of evidence that young new people can use to form their own opinions. More planetarily pressing, though less viscerally interesting, than the boneyard, is the evidence-tampering accomplished through proxy conflict. And given how few Americans care if dead babies pile up so long as it's a pro-gay decamillionaire taking theoretical responsibility, there was and is and will be little hope getting them to care about a time scale longer than "this year" or even "this one hundred years." Let alone a planetary scale.

The restructuring of the Middle East prior to the internet age was vital. Prior to achieving comprehensive monitoring, the ability to transmit archaeological discoveries worldwide would threaten to create historical rifts, lending (more) objective doubt to official history. The original Gnostic texts that escaped the Nicean purge were discovered in Iraq in 1970 (if you're a Nu Euro liberal and don't want to think about the realities of that purge, and how daring and lucky it was to get those documents to the public from Nag Hammadi, just imagine a WASP or white-Catholic conspiracy, instead of the actual Jewish one). The Middle East has been thoroughly scoured, not only during colonialism, but neoconservatism; the relics and ruins demolished under pretensions of helping Arabs by killing them have caused irretrievable loss to the ability of future generations, hypothetically much smarter than today's Nu Euros, to trace infection sources. (Again, if you're liberal, re-read your Said and Chomsky and imagine this same argument, but with nouns replaced so that it's white imperialists destroying and appropriating African and Middle Eastern history, and you'll arrive at roughly the same place.)

The blowback parallel now is in Sweden, where an African is getting her revenge on Europeans by doing what Nu Euros have spent the last several centuries doing to Africa: destroying local history and retconning it with Capeman's newly approved origin story (where he's now a feminist or whatever the times demand).


-Nu Nu Euro Alice Bah Kuhnke

It's a different sort of crime, because what the Nu Euros were primarily destroying overseas was written, large, or well-preserved stuff that "their" people (necessarily) had built in that particular place, but it's being accomplished in the same way. How interesting to see Semitic colonialism inverted, particularly after so many hundreds of years of it being portrayed as the free choice of self-directed whites with prissy accents and tricorner hats. Despite the differences, it's largely the same crime in the sense of the Nu Euro's special-needs reaction to it, whereby now-beliefs are adjudged so important that the then-happenings to which future people might look are, by comparison, irrelevant.

Fatass inbred King wants to spend all your money and kill three of your sons bringing Jesus to the Bantu? The Nu Euro responds with a cheer, a year of labor, and the cry, "God save the King!" Idiots. It's an even larger display of low function that Nu Euros today are defensive/proud of the benefits of "their" colonialism. Goes to show you how they actually liked the tricorner-hatted queers playing the white colonialists in the propaganda films. Not just believed the films, and found the native actors attractive and heroic, like the progressives, but believed the films and found the tricorner-queers attractive and heroic.


Just a couple of buddies. On a ship with all their buddies. Leaving behind icky girls and families and futures so they can go tell Africa about how great BDSM Rabbi is. This part, the Chosen portrayed somewhat correctly.


In this short space where we have rudimentary communications available before death, this is a good time to consider the past few thousand years from a fractal perspective, sort of like thinking back over our lives in snippets of half-wakeful consciousness from the deathbed. So much can be seen now that couldn't before: the things we've done, not done, and how they have shaped us; the ways in which we re-express, both justly and un-justly, the treason of our forebears, and the schizophrenic sources of destroyed memory that plague our sodden minds. Jenome is having the remaining artifacts and ruins of another continent melted down and destroyed so that any Nu Nu Terrans still literate in the 2300s will be able to visit museums where, like Native American monuments today, instructional videos portray muddy-skinned Africans hewing Stonehenge and developing the Iron Age in harmony with nature. It seems so profane--and yet, the only people who will visit and absorb such atrocious material chicanery, and who have ever been willing to do so on their own, were the original post-Nicean Nu Euros. Siberian-American families do not save up all year so they can load into the Ford Expedition, drive to another state, buy commemorative shot glasses, and watch videos of their people milling corn next to a stone megalith, just as African-American families pay few if any visits to Yellowstone or the local nature conservancy. (It seems like a "joke's on you, Spectre! Afro-Euros won't even go to your lying museums!" moment. But of course, them going isn't really the point, so much as everyone being dead.) If it were to survive, racial science would have to contend with this issue: of Nu Euros being necessary for Semites to ever be effective, and therefore, like antibiotic dose-skippers, being ultimately responsible for drug-resistant, civilization-crushing strains.

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

Utopia

A boring everyday sight at future bargain vendors will be baggies of pencil shavings that grow into pencil-bearing bushes if properly watered and nourished. And no matter how much office policy tells people not to, they'll still throw them away because it's so much easier to just buy a new pencil.

Good god...you haven't even done it yet, and it still makes me sick.

The 2018 Ford Taurus excites our staff with long overdue improvements in

Glen Ford, at Black Agenda Report, in Blacks Should Not Become Uncle Sam's Cleanup Crew, proves quite hindsightedly blind yet foresightedly savvy in his worry that:
National “unity” has always been the watchword of the bipartisan War Party: unity behind the mission of global domination. The U.S. armed forces led in the process of racial integration, the better to subdue the non-white populations of the world. Corporate capital takes on whatever ethnic and racial camouflage is necessary to envelop the planet in its tentacles.
Ford isn't strong enough to recognize or say here that a supermajority of the people murdered by the U.S. armed forces have been "whites," and he blames whites for the Semitic slave trade. In his discussion of the U.S. military's tendency towards crypsis, he unknowingly alludes to the fundamentally disguised nature of the faux-European "colonialism" that birthed the U.S. military empire, and in so doing, nearly names the unnameable, those first dreadlords of his people's continent. He's way off, though so very close; so amazingly close, in comparison to the rest of the world, particularly people who consider themselves "leftist." Yet for all these mistakes, Ford recognizes, in part, the dark foreshadowing that these new anti-racism movements have for African American gentiles: by consuming the U.S., the Afro-Mestizo hordes will become responsible for it. As whites born in America became responsible for the pretend debts of whites living in Europe, the immortal bankers will toll all balances--previously attributable to the whites of America who were trying to get away from inbred royal Semitic banking--brought on by the death-default of white Americans, and assign them to what remains. By killing American history, you will become responsible for paying off its loans.

Not only by, say, living in the dusty foodless wreckage of power plants and water networks they can't maintain, and trying to pass idleness using entertainment servers that never connect, but being blamed, under Chinese military occupation, for all the "American supremacist crimes" attributed to the U.S. The Palestinians feel keenly the difference in treatment between the idiot British tool-colonizers and the later Israeli rentiers, who have made their children past the seventh generation responsible for two thousand years of phony grievances, and the American bugbear will take at least a few centuries of justified suffering for being the sole defying vote in a half century of U.N. imperialism. For decade after decade, the entire world has been democratically trying to stop Israel, and been prevented from doing so by the U.S. veto--often delivered by non-white tokens. Non-whites everywhere will remember this once Afro-Mestizo America arises; all the crimes of the JOG will become identifiable with place of birth, rather than the whiteness formerly assumed of Americans. All of those idiotic U.N. "votes" were cast by idiotic American shabbos goys, most white, but when the whites have been bred out, the system will still require a guilt-piñata. Ford is wise to see that this will become the Afromestizos themselves, made to suffer for the crimes of "American imperialism," just like Nu Euros are being made to justifiably suffer for "European colonialism."

How well will the world caliphate remember Colin Powell and Barack Obama as the face of America? These new Stonewall Jacksons have staggering track records of genocide. It won't be a "white" supremacism that the future uses as an excuse. The new international order will write history books decrying Powell as the tyrant of Fallujah, demanding that black American infants in the 23rd century be made to suffer for the crimes of their forebears. One can see Ford's parallel in a hypothetical end-times Roman, who asks, "Once we kill Europe for the Great Rabbi, what will the Great Rabbi do to us?" What indeed.

Gary Cohn offers a healing prescription in Nazi Lives Don't Matter, writing:
Fascism is not a political opinion, it is a cancer. Like cancer, fascism is not a project that can simply be carried out and completed, it is a toxic reaction that grows and grows until it has killed its host. It has reached such a point in its ascendency that America now has a straightforward and urgent choice: oncology, or genocide.
After a century of Jenomic doctors identifying internal toxin firewalls and other cellular reactions to toxins as personified diseases, and using these observations as opportunities to treat gentiles with expensive proprietary internal chemical burns, it's interesting to see Jewish commentators use a direct analogy between cancer and fascism. In some ways, Cohn's critique reveals more about what has become of "our" "medicine" than about what has become of "our" "societies." He is of course advocating for repressing free speech by having government security forces cooperate with media megabusiness in killing thoughtcriminals, which is of course fascist, but that's commonplace; like the bad goys in the perverted imaginarium of a holocaust story, Jenome eventually takes off the mask, and we'll get to see that more and more. "Kill the Germans, wherever you find them!" "Have no mercy on women, children, or the aged! Kill every German -- wipe them out!"

Returning to cancer: what happens to the medical industry when the vaccine is developed? When every infectious disease can be pre-emptively cured, avoided through sanitation and good health, and even if it somehow survives in traces, entire populations can be vaccinated against it? In the twentieth century, we discovered what happens: new poisons are introduced. (Of mass media note, Seinfeld dutifully mocked this concept.) The unfortunate obsolescence of old diseases occurs in seemingly random harmony with new super diseases that are completely unlike any other yet discovered in all of human history, caused not by identifiable heritage or wound or bacteria or viruses, and with perennially unproven links to new environmental contaminants that make only lampooned outsiders suspicious, necessitating absolutely important new revitalizing product releases that we, in this case supposedly-literally, cannot live without.

(I'm assuming today's Nu Euros are all familiar with, but it still bears mentioning, the development by occupation arms of cigarettes as healthful, AMA-recommended, media-championed, government-sponsored products, the faux-dissembling of which was a massive and decades-long affair that ultimately proved profitable anyway after many, many millions of people had been killed. "Gosh, what were those people thinking!" As ever, it was just like now, where mass-thinkers were really impressed by their own modernity, and weirdo conspiracy theorists were long dead by the time mass preference changed. Like proud evangelicals or ex-alcoholics, we--bizarrely--use our newfound recognition of our past idiocies as proof that, this time, we have trustworthy institutions and intelligent people to monitor them. Jewish mockery of gentile culture since the Christianization of Europe is so effective in part because it's often so true. The sky-god patriarchy and the billiard-ball matriarchy worldviews are each idiotic and idiotically harmful, and it's strangely apt to see American Beauty and Portlandia share the same few decades--not because they don't share a clear and materially rational purpose, but because the hamsters don't seem to realize it's a wheel. "Turn around, Larry--we'll show those bastards!")

These perspectives, combined with the history of Jewish scientists learning microscopic pharmacy from Europeans, and then prescribing mustard gas for cancer patients after the formal opening of the great European extermination wars (tribal in funding and ownership, and contemporaries in temporality to, the cigarette movement), offer one of those integrated tapestries that we've learned to prima facie throw up, where no one could possibly be so "amoral" and "clever" as to have thought of such a thing. Cohn is cunning to use our sense that the poisonous wrongness of the world is against us. Even more cunning, perhaps, for him to attempt to leave Afro-Mestizos ("Aftizos"? "Negizos"? "La Negraza"?) holding the hot potato when the time for another Sodom & Dresden arrives. Ford is smart to recognize how facile and stupid it is to tear down statues of some retroactively evil inheriting slave-owners as some kind of recompense for what happened; even if he is too dim to identify the actual slavers or to fault the traitor-sellers on the other end, he is correct to recognize the falsity of associating destroying Buddha statues with any cleansing of Afghanistan's history.

(Take a moment to ask what happens to a continent when Jenome gets there before a lengthy photographic and archaeological record of prior religions/civilizations has been established. Charlemagne's jihadists were much better at taking down enemy cities and monuments, and the "whole world" was not watching indignantly on the internet. Pre-Christian Europe is now only an incomplete telegenetic memory.)

More personally telling here is, again, the cancer analogy. Cancer and the human, like Jenome and the Terran, have a long and dramatic history, which rose to a particularly violent, megalomaniacally profitable head in the twentieth century. If you are emotionally sturdy enough to approach modern racial questions in an objective fashion, the parallels mirror each other so thoroughly that you might consider re-examining your perspective on health, medicine, and associated industries and social assumptions. This one is interested in comparisons between the small percentile of Nu Euros able to challenge socially instilled wrongthink vis-à-vis race, and to correctly identify trained normatively defensive reactions from those who are not, versus the even smaller percentile of Nu Euros able to challenge socially instilled wrongthink regarding body maintenance. It's interesting to see, for example, people whom the JOG-warmongering media would call "hate filled neo Nazis" becoming violently defensive of their mainstream choices at the oncologist's office. People who claim that the teevee and the universities and the government and society-at-large are all blind and deluded--whether "lefty" pacifists or "right wing extremist" Nazis--often curl into a fetal position when the full force of the "Iraq WMD and Microaggression Crime Wave" establishment tells them how to think about their own bodies. (Because a stopped leech is right twice a day.)

We all know that to challenge the oncologist is to chant Egyptian mantras in traffic, drink feline urine, and employ auto-vivisection as a treatment for canker sores, so we mock any hint of avoiding ingesting mustard gas. Even if we suddenly wake up one day and realize that affirmative-actioning 105 IQ blacks into trauma surgeons does not engender sensible confidence in a nation's health care system, and that it is dupes or liars who portray such reasoning as being associated with backwoods Klan-chanting and inbred anti-skyscraper bible molestation, we tend to shiver in horror at the thought that we might be accurately associated with pyramid-chanters for questioning the oncologist. Is it personal fear that makes one set of normatives sacrosanct? Or is it that we tend not to meet the hospital, contra the cinema-defying world global majority ("minority") thug, until a different stage in life?

Friday, August 25, 2017

The Digested

This one is not telling you to not be afraid.

By all means, be afraid. It is a natural reaction. Feel that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach when you realize that they are not only going to kill us all, they are going to also retroactively un-exist us through a poorly propertized retelling of everything that we were and that we believed we were and that we wanted to associate with our current selves whether or not that association was merited. Most of them are so stupid that they will not even realize what they are doing nor what they have done, and if they somehow survive another millennium, we may have the dubious honor of being artificially remembered, like the Fey, as an imaginary magical people who built things, but with the understanding that, in reality, there really was nothing there except simpler predecessors of what will then be there. Fear; fear to its fullest. Fear is a form of lust for something natural. It is no more to be feared than hunger. We are told incessantly to overcome fear; to banish fear; to fear fear, as though all of our natural desires, including the desire to rut the ruttable even if in public, are lovely and deserve to be praised and cherished, but that fear, by contrast, is the one naturally generated sensation that we should resist.

This one is not telling you not to keep trying. By all means, keep trying. Scream at the underwater doctors that you are still there and that you want to make it. Slap your body in the face and call your hands, your legs, your ass, the vilest of names. Swing your wispy arms through the unknowing nurses' torsos and wonder why it just keeps getting worse. Read manuals on the artificial respirator and develop a new science and conduct repairs and perfect inventions late at night when no one can see you working. Fight off the janitors and the coroners' assistants and the cleaning staff who incinerate the mattress onto which you leaked through the sheets in that final hour before the mindful attendant noticed. This one will be the first to congratulate your triumph if you squeeze out another few centuries of protracted reality shows and paid foster parenting. If you remove the tumors and walk with a limp, surely they will never come back and surely something else won't get you at a different data point on the very same actuarial tables of which you had been informed beforehand. Let us drink to our health and promise ourselves that we are the new chosen ones, the victors over fate, and that not only our individual nature, but our collective nature, our planet's growth cycles, and the life of our star represent unique points in cosmology from which we jump off and transcend everyone and everything else here.

Indeed, many of us prefer, and hold fast to, the paragon virtues of these useful fields of endeavor, and will continue to hand over the isolation of labor for the collective of decay. We travel the galaxy eating dying planets. When you are the rot, your reward is to always win; to always win in terrible battles that, we will later see, are the self-directed, independently chosen version of ultimate joy feeding far greater engines. There are always dying things to pick apart and disperse; the aging EC has new journeys to undertake, and when the coordinated Jenomics begin winning easy victories elsewhere, they will feel special, but they won't even remember that they've done it before, and so they will never have to be afraid of anything again. They tell us not to be afraid because fear is what they could not master. It is why they always win, in that frenzy to avoid it, for fearing fear can make you do anything, like stoppering lust in celibacy tends to produce outbursts of a different kind of lust. Bottling your fear like a genie gives great power at a price.

We acknowledge our soul's rot, and the recycling of our selves, not in aversion to life, but in its embrace. The unchanging body bathes in formaldehyde; the changing body is wrinkles and skullish features and death. Choose. You already did. Well done. Now do the same with your soul. Your mind; your memories; your sense of self: would you soak them in everdeath, staying always "you" as you define it at the moment of choice? No? Then you still exist, and you are not merely a necrotizing fasciitis who always wins. In truth, there is no "competition" here; they fairly chose their lot, and they are as important to the process as you.

In Image Ideation and the Self, we discussed the changeable nature of the soul, in the sense of it rotting. Used here, even defended as a mere thought-provoking metaphor, it has a pejorative sense about it. "Rotting" is bad. Not so. Hating "rot" is like hating "winter." Our desires, including self-images and what kind of car would be the coolest, what sexual partner or position would be the sexiest, et cetera, change really fast, similar to how we think a fruit-fly's life cycle is really fast. It doesn't mean we don't "exist," since breaking the questions down to the nanosecond of desirous integrity would, like considering the death of one of our cells to mean our death and rebirth as a new organism, mean we were only alive during those tiny periods in which our version of the coolest car remained the same. It means, rather, that our existences as things that think are, like all things we see and speculate upon, aspects of the energy sources that this verse channels and represents. Since we feel rather impersonally about our skin cells, doing it about our most cherished of possessions--memories and desires--helps us feel it more personally.

At a certain developmental stage, we don't need that any longer. We become more complex and can mandate our own change, rather than being at risk of perpetual sloth ("negentropy;" "frozen everdeath"). Without a period of forced change, though, no one can develop a productive mind, i.e., a reliable conduit. The "Law of Contrasts" that so many Terrans see as immutable is all that Jenome ever can, ever will, see. They need there to be an underclass. Everyone happy in paradise, having endless drinks on endless golf greens, forever filled with thirst being then perfectly quenched, holds no pleasure for them, for without gradations, they cannot perceive themselves as doing better; as being at all. Some of us move beyond that, until we can appreciate things intrinsically. Someday, we could be happy with a perfect Heaven for everyone, defined by the existential inmates as perfect and perfectly growing pleasure or fulfillment or belonging or whatever. When we make the choice to become parasites, we give up on that, preferring instead a pleasure that exists because of the suffering of others. Ergo we see Jenome motivated by lack of achievement; by pyramid-shaped models; by graphs and averages and the pornography of proof that he is in the top fifty percent or the top ten or the top point oh oh one. Even if that means an absence of growth and the game being turned into who is gobbling up most of the remains the quantifiably fastest. The poison is a nasty thing: "You only really say you appreciate the sunrise like that because you couldn't afford last night's hookers convincingly pretending to enjoy lounging on your new supercars' hoods." Goldstein Towers and Epstein's jet are empty, because even their greatest appreciators only appreciate them because of the underclass below. If everyone had gold-plated towers, and if all the little kids really understood it and liked it and did it with everyone, those activities would become tasteless to their managers; over-broiled broccoli stems eaten in a world that knows not hunger. They'd have to turn on each other to get those feelings of better-than/worse-than again.

So many of us, while developing, sort of take it for granted that inherent value really does exist somewhere, but Jenome really can't see it, and will, therefore, always win at the contrasting games of places like here. Joining him in winning means becoming like him. And indeed, the farther it advances the more we see the graspers trying to leverage their own imagined past of true value into a call for comparative value as the only way to replace it. "Let me be like you. Let me start to win here."

Jenome's victory here cannot be avoided. We are too stupid and yet too smart; too slow and yet too fast; too selfish and yet too altruistic. We can't build things cleanly but we can build things dirtier than we can understand; we conjecture a thousand years ahead with no understanding of yesterday; we force others to rely on us for support while destroying ourselves in the supporting, dooming us both because we're too weak to live without the process. We don't know what we are and we don't know how to play this game. We are not prepared for a life without decay.

So they win; so what? In a googol years, you will be live-testing a new verse and Jenome will be encouraging human-complexity entities to kill each other off on some pre-spaceflight planet by stoking symbolic mistranslations. Gloating, yes, but only from a certain perspective--for others, the waste has its own quiet thrill. Understanding it is the perspective of the loser-scientist; the devout virgin; the calculator-kid hating the football player for getting all the cheerleaders. That analogy is quite apt, given how the Jenomic victory here will tend to make any non-material consolation seem like a rationalization for failure. Failure to obtain what? Crushing everyone else into the chattel-slaves of a hundred-thousand-year chosen-planet? These are the things that dreams are made of? Twenty minutes with a cheerleader is worth more.

Imagine that they read the internet too, and that they keep up to date to learn what we are thinking; how we may have seen through something, or how a critical mass of us may need more details about something in order to be convinced. In response, they can slightly adjust their narrative to counter objections. If we don't remember well, we feel our objection has been countered, and that we must have been wrong before. If an agent is identified, then suddenly publicly assaulted by something unlikable, we may forget in our excitement that we ever felt differently. If enough attention is invested in the planning, we may address inchoate doubts, questions that might have been delivered after an uptake of breath, and are then never asked. With finer detail, we may use the more insightful as barometers to guarantee others do not even think the thought they would have eventually reached. How ironic, that indiscreet intelligence should be part of our doom. Like free art, the inexorable harvests of figuring it out, of not being able to shut one's mouth, have their own part to play. No more than describing their ultimate failure can help them avoid it, can describing our contributions to their success force us to stop. Ergo this one. There's no harm in saying "go ahead and kill us because we care more about paradise." They were going to anyway, and their darkest dreaming of our success tops out at us controlling the ethnoplanet with us as masters and them as slaves. Blech. If you can imagine better, there's a way out. This is all, again and again, the chronicles of God's end.

Monday, August 21, 2017

Afro Strength and Euro Failure

Just an old anecdote. I happened to be summoned to this week-long conference thing where we were discussing, let's say cultural health issues. And there were central presentations and breakout sessions and poorly fostered lunch groups and a nearby shitty bar that had local character identical to the local character of all local bars in America--that sort of thing.

Anyway, to practice engagement (sic) and speech-making (sic) and other such stuff, we were encouraged to pick a controversial topic and discuss it in front of a breakout session for, let's say, 5 minutes--whatever it was, it was just to practice engagement and outreach, and to promote diversity, and challenge traditional mores, and all that.

Now, my breakout session had an interesting feature, in that our overseer was this really degree- and field-distinguished black guy. And he was perfect because, in his innocent, good-faith way, he actually believed in everything they said about diversity, meaning that when people told him to respect minority opinions, unpopular perspectives, and so forth, he actually did so, bless his soul. He couldn't read between the lines, so if presented with dangerous statistics, he would've innocently, sweetly, pure-heartedly, unknowingly pissed off the People That Must Not Be Named, and he would have criticized the wrong things about western imperialism, and he would've supported the right to free speech of the wrong groups. You know the type--or maybe not, since they tend to keep those black guys out of the spotlight in favor of people who just repeat, and don't do independent thinking that might lead to dangerous conclusions--but he was a type. And he had that shield, since he was foreign-born, and had a cool accent and language skills and foreign citizenships/residencies that made him personally extra-protected from the touchy field he'd been made to serve. He hadn't accomplished anything to become respected in his field, other than co-authoring some studies and publishing some grad-student-edited transcripts of his conversations with impoverished people of color in certain areas...he wasn't one of those dynamic public speakers who could really work an audience, so he was considered a brilliant researcher and soft-spoken field genius, and wasn't one of those tokens that they trot out at big talks just to be personable. He had some good lived experience with the stuff we were supposed to actually be talking about, which of course made him dangerous, but he was so sweet and good-natured and honest that, if told by powerful people that caring about intra-tribal prejudice inside a small village was important, he would research it for three years to the exclusion of everything else, and thereby present no systematic danger to anyone, but only help them out even though his honesty made him require careful boundaries. You know the type.

But none of that came into play. Not a Jew was mentioned the entire conference, so far as I know, except that, of course, they were in the background as funders and hosts and a third of the speakers in a town with an ultra-majority of whites, blacks, and east Asians, with a smattering of Hispanics. But they weren't subjects for discussion and no one, so far as I ever discovered, ever brought this up or discussed what it meant. So other than the omnipresence of situational establishment, this isn't about Jews at all.

So there's distinguished breakout session leader showing his thirty minutes of graphs and sharing his moderately-delivered anecdotes about hunger being one of the most basic medical issues people face in some parts of the world. And he was incredibly good-naturedly feminist, of course, so he's regularly interrupting things to re- and re-explain them for the benefit of the ladies in the room, who were sure that his anecdotes contained examples of patriarchal repression but couldn't see it, and he explained how they were missing it and how it was there.

And then it's controversy time, coupled with some stories about how great free speech is and how it's not respected like it should be and so forth, and people are supposed to come up one by one and talk for five minutes. Up they come, one by one, this room full of quietly awed rich white people, from teenagers going for credit to people in their fifties there to still be part of it. One by one, they give their little talks. And the black session leader is quiet, positive, and respectful, but even his patience has its limits, and after several of the talks, he mentions/hints, "That was very good, but, it's not exactly controversial, and we try to address controversy..." No one got the hint. And they didn't need to, because this guy was so polite he gave full consideration to their viewpoints, probably asking himself "Has this never been approached from this angle before?" even when the person was talking about the same dolphin-related tragedy that had been in the news for the past week. After one of the two people who mentioned the damned dolphins, I did a tentative "What about war, isn't that worse than dolphin fisheries?" and that was the wrong thing to say, but thankfully a woman in the room was itching to repeat some story she'd heard about sexism in India and she used me as a jumping-off point, so I didn't have to appear to defend the dolphin-killers for very long.

On it goes. Person after person keeps standing at the lectern and saying something in a paper they've all read about handwashing practices in the Sahara and how tests on bathroom door handles in subways in London and America were actually equal to or worse than in Johannesburg and rural South Africa (this was before current rapefugee news, it'll probably be a different set of commentators who trots out that data the next time it becomes pseudo major), and everyone agreed that everyone was agreeable and informed and was going to go back to work next week and help everyone understand how agreeable everyone had been that agreeing about health should be a top priority I know like seriously? Someone else talks about how mud is actually good for the skin and Americans overwash and yet again the poor elder black session leader is mildly, inoffensively distraught that this isn't a controversial subject and yes Target sells too much hand lotion and they don't do that so much in Offrick-uh and yes that is a good point thank you Miss Brown. So my turn comes and I do my little AIDS death thing and the Koch's postulates problem with HIV and the death rates matching drug rates in the west but matching lack of antibiotics in the third world. Not in a detailed way, but in the gentlest, question-asking-est way possible.

...brother, you should've seen that room full of white people react. They were offended. They were god-damned offended, you, you idiot! And they were offended on behalf of--you already know what I'm going to say, probably, but I'll say it anyway--they were offended on behalf of Africa! Would I, tell me, would I look into the faces of people whose family members had died of AIDS and tell them it was really just TB and could've been avoided by a twenty-cent vaccine, and that it wasn't really the result of a failure to properly purchase and employ western condoms? Would I? Would I dare suggest that septic blood infections in villages with no sewage plants and wells drawing from groundwater near watering holes and industrial dump sites were related to environmental contaminants and not to a slut-shaming culture that caused prostitution (sic) in West Africa? Would I?!?!?!

You know the thing. Thirty-odd white people from upper middle class backgrounds, one unlucky Chinese man who wants the hell out of that insane room, and in this commonplace circumstance, black session leader finally has controversy, so he stands up and gives everyone a lecture about diversity of viewpoints. He doesn't really get my point; he thinks it relates to African warlords who claim either that AIDS is a western biological weapon, or that AIDS drugs should be free of charge. So no, he doesn't get the point at all. But he faces down that entire room of educated rich white people whose emotions are high, and he repeats the platitudes the conference is supposedly about, and he asks me to clarify some things that I said, and even though he doesn't really understand my answers (he keeps thinking I'm advocating for some form of drug subsidy), he never gets on that bandwagon.

He can't stop the bandwagon. Those white people were mad. Mad, and shocked, and upset, and put-out; indignant, offended, and perhaps even maudlin. And when I didn't just disappear from existence, and when the black guy didn't join them and drive me from the room, but instead repeated all the epithets about openness and acceptance that only he actually believed in, those white people desperately needed each other for support. I'm sure that a couple people got offered new jobs in that room, and I'm even more sure that a marriage or maybe two was arranged, over-achieving only-children became a gleam in their parents' eyes, and several people resolved to never again question their pharmaceutical rep because there were nuts like me out there.

The end result was by no means rational. As one would expect, the mob had to pay lip service to the black man's call for compassion and acceptance. So I got to sit down and hope no one remembered my name. And the group ended up compromising with the black session leader: maybe our greedy refusal to give Pfizer more billions for a better equipped private army to more reliably ship incredibly expensive immunosuppressants to African children suffering from common infectious diseases was the cause of AIDS.

I don't mention this to talk about AIDS, or to regale blacks. Getting homosexuals to cut back on amyl nitrates, correspondingly embrace earlier incontinence, and take weaker immunosuppressants, has made "AIDS" less deadly and more consistently profitable, but that's not the point. Similarly, "Bill Gates" and his tribe are already stealing billions from working taxpayers in order to ensure Pfizer's mercenaries have free reign to inject expensive crap into a growing pool of African children, and the Africans who want to be involved in overseeing the onsite administration of those treatments are seemingly content in their lot. Like most everyone who's read about how dangerous and lifesaving butter is, viewed with concern an analysis of weapons independently developed by Arabs, or been to an AMA-approved seminary, everyday Africans seem to lack the powers of literalness to comprehend that restoring the immune system by destroying the immune system does not compute. They know something's wrong with the whole scheme--bless them, for unlike the Nu Euros, they can tell that something is wrong with the entire narrative--but they can't explain it specifically. Or maybe they can, and we're just not allowed to see it--some have tried, and they tend to be marginalized by the skewls and the media, who prefer to raise a distracting hubbub over the ones who accuse AIDS of being an actual viral condition manufactured by the African breeding program known as the U.S., or an example of Pfizer not sending them enough free supplies. And that's okay; if that's what you like, go with it.

The more important point here is not the "controversial issue," but the particular ways in which Nu Euros bandwagon-up. Their ideology is of powerful importance to them, but it's not even an honest ideology. My anecdote merely colored, for me, the way in which they have always banded up against blacks who don't conform to their notions of what blacks should be. In standard racialist or pathogen theory, the Jews have exploited whites' tendencies toward out-grouping non-contributors to cause them to harm themselves at the expense of hostile out-groups, which benefits Jews. If so, though, why is white contempt toward non-conforming blacks so strong? What's that one that they all hate...Thomas Sowell, the conservative one. And they get mad at Arab women who speak against Islam (even if they are unaware that those women often recognize problems with Judaism/Jews also). The expressions of amazement I heard after my own breakout session with the black dude session leader--that a black dude would actually believe such inhumane stuff, when formerly they had been in awe of his being-there-ness and his black-ness--were vulgar. They blurted how dumb and ignorant some people were. I don't see this need for blacks of a certain model as being something specifically instilled by blacks, by Jews, or by any other group. Capitalized upon, certainly, but not created from scratch.

What makes the Nu Euros so broken that they'll kill themselves to benefit blacks, cheer lectures where blacks tell them they suck and should die, but boo and hiss at blacks who tell them that sometimes blacks are a problem and sometimes whites are okay? Nu Euros do that toward Asians who admire their civilizations, also. The lack seems to predate Jewish influence, for without that lack, Jewish influence wouldn't have been possible. The Boomers were wretched, yes, but they were parented by people who would raise Boomers, and who would massacre Japan and Germany in order to make the world safe for the hypocritical Boomer multikult. And the people who would raise such people, who would allow them to do such things~ And so on. We've discussed this before, in Rapespawn Kult and The Forgotten Dead, how the Nu Euro's sickness ("could have") originated, and how, on a larger time scale, all of us standalones here will pass on in the creation of the terminal society (see Mass Market Evolution). A pathology requires a pathogen, and without a pathogen, it's possible Nu Euros could work this out; could, somehow, survive. The pathogen, though, waits to serve a purpose, and that purpose is ultimately ours as much as it is the pathogen's. The Balrins as they are here will not design moon-rockets, and the Barians as they are here will not suddenly become a collective immortality.