Q Report: Song of The Libtard.

To Sleeper Agents et All,

Masturbation in the 21st century is a sad business. Probably it always has been. Brief, glorious access to fantastic, personal, yet vicarious sex, followed by profound emptiness, boredom, and shame. The same roaring pathos experienced by the noble salmon who, having spread their eggs and seed on river rocks, have the good sense to die. In literature, it is no different. Erasmus claimed all great thoughts were to be had in antiquity, but I wonder what Erasmus would think about VR porn? Maybe don’t stop dreaming, kids. It may very well turn out all those dead white guys didn’t know fuck 
all about shit. They call that postmodernism.

My true voice, that one that eludes me in the mediocrity of daily activity, is a lonely howl into a dispassionate night. It is the rollicking sailor song of the condemned and the damned. It is an earnest plea to future generations, who might be able to sift through all the bullshit literature of the early 21st century, and find this hilarious blog. They will surely realize that I have been holding firm to the dystopian pulse of our generation, and if not for the devastating fire in our marketing department, would surely have met with spectacular commercial success. As of this writing, we are still quite poor. Taking stabs at normality with calculated thrusts of artistic, political, and scientific experimentation.

What were any of us thinking, bringing children into this fucked up planet? Even at best estimates we are inevitably doomed by a planetary leak of hydrogen and other noble gasses into the void on the wings of solar winds. Long before the sun expands and explodes our planet, the water will have all evaporated into space. Earth will look much like Mars, but closer to the sun. Covered with our skeletons. Unless we can get off planet, of course! If these jackholes in gubmint don’t get us all fucking nuked, in the next few days. Supervolcano doesn’t wipe out all life, forever. Meteorite of large enough size. The planet wants to kill us all, in enough novel ways, for us all to be killing one another for fun, 
profit, and whatever.

Why will none of you listen? Why can none of you see? Why can none of us speak, against these atrocities? The other day 60 children drowned in the Mediterranean, with their families. A prisoner on death row requested a firing squad, instead of experimental drugs. Our nation is executing prisoners with experimental drugs, you see? If I had to execute someone, and I had any control of anything, I would follow through on my designs for the suicide helmet. Under these circumstances, I guess it would be an execution helmet. Anyhow, it’s just a VR helmet with a program of flight with swelling music, during which your air supply is supplanted with nitrogen. Do a 10 minute sequence, just to be safe, but if everything works out, you are unconscious in 30 seconds, brain dead 3 minutes after that, and clinically dead whenever the doctor calls it. But no, let's do the firing squad. Let's shoot our prisoners like dogs on chairs. Why should I play nice, in literature, when our state so callously, cruelly, and unusually murders our fiends and criminals?

The thing is, I want to kill rapists and murderers, too. Sure, who doesn't? But the state can’t seem to do so, without killing innocent people, you see? There is this growing list of exonerated people, who have been freed after decades on death row, because oops. Sorry we almost killed you, and for all those years we kept you in prison, awaiting your execution. Signed, the justice system. PS Here’s the $50 you made, stamping license plates for twenty years. Enclosed as well is a coupon for Applebee’s. Think about the sort of life you would lead, not waking up expecting to die, every day? So no, I'm against capital punishment. Until we can work out bringing the dead back to life. For the record, I would commit seppuku, and you would freeze my head in frogs blood, as I await my resurrection. My neo-Shintoism demands no less. 


I would have to murder everyone who put me in there. I hope that isn’t illegal, to hope. But I would make it my business to hunt down and bury alive every person who unjustly put me on the road to dead. What else would I do with my life? Speak at high schools? That’s no way to live. Frankly, I don’t know where to go, with my thoughts, anymore. I can’t give them to the internet, unfiltered. Unaltered, or uncensored. Everything is open, and out there. It is a brand built in tearing everything down. Ours is not to destroy government, but to upend it. Upend the pyramid of power, and re-balance the wealth of the few to benefit the many. The Space Pyramid is just such a project, but they call me a lunatic. 



The other day, I got into a valuable debate with a Trump supporter where they intelligently defended their candidate on the value of his character and quality of his ideas. JK! They attacked Obama, and Chelsea Clinton, for whatever reason. All anyone can ever do to defend that used-tampon of a near-human is attack other people with regurgitated media trash and obviously imaginary crimes. Because it is obvious, even to the mouth breathing 25% who voted Trump, that he is actually a breed of shaved orangutan, mutated through mad science, and trained to perform. 

I pray that everyone who voted for that monster based on his support from Magic Space Dad gets a size 12 Jesus sandle right up their asshole on the way into a lake of eternal fire. The 50% of me that Anti-Pascal’s Wager tells me we're all going to get a fun war-poison theme park ride on the way to eternal oblivion. At least there I don't have to see that hideous golem being puppeteered around by corporate nazis and Christofacists. They put great betrayers on the bottom floor. The only valuable advice I can offer you, moving forward, is that you would do well to remember that no matter what ill begotten gains he may reward himself with, he will still just end up a gross corpse in poopy golden sheets. Inasmuch as any person is meat with charisma, Trump too shall return to the food cycle. Finally surrendering to the bacteria that represents his better half. 

When I was a young man, I encountered some bullies who made fun of my sweat suit. I couldn’t blame them. It was pretty terrible. But, I didn’t like it, and told my mother about it. She explained to me then, about bullies. She said that bullies were just sad, and angry, and lonely, and couldn’t express themselves correctly. She said that the only way a bully can feel good about themselves is by putting others down. She said that the way to deal with a bully wasn’t to fight them, but to pity them. They were already miserable, and you fighting them would simply be playing into their game, by their own ugly rules. 

I rebelled against the idea, at the time. I see the wisdom in it, now, and recommend that you follow that advice. I only made it as far as the playground that winter, when a bully thought it would be fun to push me down in the snow, for whatever reason. I asked him to stop. He pushed me down. I demanded he stop. He pushed me down. Then I punched him directly in the bridge of the nose, causing a not insignificant amount of blood. He did not try to push me down, again. Rather, he ran to the playground attendant on duty. I thought my punch would get me detention. Even in first grade I was ready to pay that price. Maybe it was because I was half his size, or maybe he didn’t give me up, but for whatever reason I got away with it. I managed to get through my playground days only drawing blood one other time, when I used an ice shuriken on Ryan Lindseth's face. He was similarly refusing to stop throwing ice at me, and ended up getting a few stitches in his mouth.

So it was established fairly early on that there are divergent methods of dealing with bullies. My mother’s philosophy is certainly in keeping with the higher moral principles of humanity. Breaking faces is not plan A. But a troubling reality I learned much later in life is that, sometimes people will listen to nothing other than violence. Reason is beyond them, and so your right to exist must be supported with physical violence. 
It is not preferable, but deeply rooted in millions of years of violent evolution. Language is a relatively modern invention, to be resolving conflicts with. Not to mention the interweb. For tens of thousands of years our problems were resolved with fists, sticks, and rocks used on our skulls. That is why we learned to use tools. To break open skulls. The only thing our thumbs were any good for; cracking open skulls. Now we can pilot spacecraft, or transplant organs, or tweet stupidity in the AM for some F-ing reason. 

I tried to live as a pacifist, for a while. In theory I still am. But, the amount of violence I fantasize about on a daily, hourly, and minute by minute basis has become cause for alarm. I was depressed, for a very long time, and anxious. I am still all of those things, but above and beyond this is a dull roar of anger. Like a dead tooth, waiting to kill you. It is a pain I focus like a laser at less than 1% of our population. Thank Gods they have those brave hillbillies willing to stand up for THEIR rights to purchase elections and capitalize on special interests.

I am even willing to admit that most of the planet, I know little about. If you live in Jakarta, I can point to that on a map, maybe take a guess about your language and religion. That is doing considerably better than most people I know, but still a far cry from the sort of cosmopolitanism that will move us from Earthlings to a Global Village. There has always been this 1% that has always ruled, and they are the enemy of humanity. Humans were always meant to be small communities of people, working together for the common good. That is what nature had in mind, for us. Until we realized that nature was just a component of science, and that science could control nature, to a degree. This 1% hasn’t always been there, is the thing. This is not historical, though. By the time history gets things collected, Hamurabi is already writing shit down. No no, there was something before that. Some person that decided they had to be more important than everyone else. Because they were special, for whatever reason. Destined to rule. Well, F that noise. 

What I lack in cultural knowledge, I make up for in anthropological evidence that shows that for as long as humans have existed, they have sought to dominate one another. Even in nature we find that creatures enjoy dominating one another, in pretend, or for reals. Being a product of nature then, it is no surprise that the history of man is a history of the enslaved. Hammurabi refers to slavery as an established institution in 1760 BCE. Egypt traded in slaves, and although modern interpretations argue the pyramids were built by enthusiastic citizens, that is because most of them did not have to work in the quarries. Greece, the fountainhead of modern western civilization, relied upon slaves of varying levels of servitude for hundreds and hundreds of years before Rome would carry on another millennia of oppression. In the middle east, far east, and the Americas, the story is the same. The history of slavery is the history of humanity, dominating one another in various ways, into bondage. For the 3000 years over which the written language has codified slavery as an institution, it has taken many and varied forms. Sometimes this servitude constituted sexual subservience, up to and including the relinquishing of one’s reproductive organs in the case of eunuchs. 

Archaeological evidence reveals that the practice of male genital removal travels as far back as we have moved forward in human history, to the 21st Century BCE in the Sumerian city of Lagash. Castration is a rarity in our modern age, but circumcision is not irregular, or frowned upon. The history of man is protecting his penis from mutilation or removal. To say any less is to disregard a well-documented wrong. Which is not to say that women have not been mutilated, raped, sterilized, and murdered with equally callous abandon, over the ages. We are not always kind to one another as humans, but the press of history is towards freedom. Liberation. There have never been this many people, and perhaps the fewest of us, as a percentage, are enslaved. Or perhaps the chains have simply adapted. How I long to liberate you into liberty. Gentle mindslaves. Behold, I am King of the Libtards, made manifest.

Master is not an adequate term, for our achievements, or our enemy. Master, overseer, oppressor, defiler, hegemony, the name of the deceiver is never the same and yet a constant. The form changes, the message, the system, in which the exploitation occurs, is the same. We the poor struggle and die, barely able to survive, modern serfs, only one check away from bankruptcy, one medical emergency away from the street, and one foot already in a grave we will have to put on the credit card when the other foot drops. We have commodified our pain and death into billion dollar industries. We have sold away our futures simply to survive today, and our dream of anything getting better is the only thing that allows us to sleep at night. We have a medicine for that. Side effects include insomnia followed by death. 

Even our effluence is toxic waste, leaching anti-depressant-anxiety-hyperactivity-birth-control-statin slurry into water systems and the water chain at large. It is not our poisoned bodies that is the tool they use, it is the bait. The most cunning chains have been placed around our minds. Slavery has always only been an invention of man, subservience enforced with the threat and application of violence, and death. But the ability to actually apply this violence and death depends on a largely variable network of possibility. You may have an indigenous population, suppressed into servitude and ongoing degradation due to the superior numbers and weaponry of the oppressive force. You may have transplanted slaves, auctioned into an oppressive society, and this servitude is enacted largely by differentiated characteristics. White people, for instance, versus people of any color. But make no mistake, every race has played a part in slavery. Slavery is an invention of man, but it is at least universal in the way it seeks to subject us.

The nature of the servitude is variable because of how it is enforced, and perpetrated over time and space. When the master could not chain our bodies any more, by rule of law, he sought instead to enslave our minds. By gatekeeping every inroad to education a supposedly enlightened age blockaded the progress of the “emancipated” even while consolidating efforts into realigning the oppressive paradigm. 
The oppressor is always with us, seeking to subject us to their will. What they cannot do with iron, they bond with chains of paperwork. Free your mind from notions of government. They are the imagined constructs of corrupt men, intent on keeping you imprisoned in serfdom forever. Free your mind from notions of leaders. We are everyone our own leader, and we mutually serve our shared world. Free your mind from the notions of economy. Money was invented by the wealthy to keep the world around them poor. 

What you cannot eat has no value to a starving person. What you cannot drink has no value to those of us made of water. Look to your family and loved ones, and establish an exit strategy from this doomed society. Commercialism was never meant to be allowed unlimited liberties. Free yourself from the institutions of mindslavery and live as free people, emancipated from these invented bonds. Before it is too late, and you are all gross and dead. As disco. Free your mind from Trump. Geologically he is dead, already, and this absurd parody has been turned into hilarious and cautionary lore, shared among our posterity.

1 ∞ Love, 


QP Quaddle

K 00

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