I’m aware that the planet is too far gone, at this stage, to be “saved”. Deforestation irreversibly got rid of huge swaths of once proud, lush, impossibly green fields. Pollution turned our water and air into consumable arsenic. Humanity disconnected itself from the source of life via its arts, its architecture, its wretched philosophies, and its unprecedented arrogance. Species have gone extinct in uncountable numbers, never again to be seen. Industrialization has smoothed over gargantuan plots of soil and grass, displaced by ugly concrete, covered in the blood of many. Domestication rendered many animal types dreadfully subservient, possibly for forever. And even if great, great catastrophe struck tomorrow, there’d still be many of them, ready at hand, to pillage and rape their way through the bosom of Mother Nature. Maybe many of them would get wise, after being humbled in the wake of catastrophe, but the dirty streak would still prevail in a grotesque and frightening amount.

To say that I’m ignorant that the point of redemption has long since sailed, would be an error. We’re about 300 to 350 years too late. We’re on a runaway train now, heading for oblivion. Stuck in “go”, I can feel the train rattle erratically on the tracks, unable to stay on the straight and narrow much longer. All we can do is stay aboard for the ride. Or hop off. It’ll hurt like hell if we hop off, and many will scream and curse our names, but fuck them. Let them go out in a giant fireball. I won’t be swimming in the abyss with them when it’s all said and done.

But it’s not about saving anything. I’m not the ardent communist, nor the whiny liberal. Savior syndrome is something I abhor greatly. Leave it to the Rudyard Kiplings of the world, with their self-imposed burdens. You can’t save a sinking ship, anyway.

No, it merely pleases me a great deal to reject and disengage from one of the cornerstones of industrial society: the food industry. Perhaps, the sole reason it is still propped up today. A Shoah, a goddamn Holocaust (sorry, I won’t let the second Great War have a monopoly on these words), directed towards the fauna, who were around a lot longer than we, and have more of a right to this world than we ever could, is perpetuated in every slaughterhouse. A never-ending meat grinder that dwarfs the numbers of the Holodomor, takes place, gleefully, carried out by dead flesh walking, soulless, robotic killing machines, who are so numb, they must cut throat after throat, of foal, calf, little lamb, piglet, chicklet, puppy, kitten, etc., to feel anything, making them rape each other to satisfy the decadent urge. Joy is brought into my being when I find myself further and further detached from industrial society’s most accusrsed, sickening, depraved, and gut-wrenching apparatus, the thing that keeps it afloat the most. Sure, the blood can never be wiped off of my hands from my days before this great revelation. Nevertheless, I spit in the face of the towering giant that stuffs its grimy citizens with poisoned flesh, and praises them for doing so. I live amidst a sea of serial killers, it seems. When you’re surrounded by Jeffrey Dahmers and Ted Bundys, it makes sense that you’ll be disdained for having emotion. Dead flesh walking, the automatons, hate anything that isn’t mechanical and artificial. You know this. The mob, the rabble, they may hate me for it. I say, if the mob, the rabble, adore something, it is practically worthless. And if they are revolted by something, then there must be great value within it. Ignore the cries of the brainwashed people. Allow them to stew in their vast cretinism.

Cut out the meat industry, and industrial society will starve, that’s my theory. Civilization will crumble to its knees, weeping from the hunger pangs. It’s the great Western narcotic, more pervasive than even tobacco, alcohol, or opium. And as anyone who knows me knows, I am passionately straight edge. Withdrawals will be experienced on a scale thought inconceivable; the detox process will, no doubt, render a great many in the throes of misery, along with the loss of their shiny gadgets, trite cinemas and bland music, precious technology, artificial warmth and cold, and the beloved four walls that they can’t seem to do without. So be it.

“You show great love for the animals, but no love for your own, the species man!”

What do I have in common with man? Virtually nothing. There’s hardly any resemblance, in mind, in spirit, between me, and some passerby on the street. A skulking individual who enters my sight on the street, what do I possibly have in common with this goon, other than our genetic makeup? My answer: fucking nothing. Do not compare me and them. I am not of their kind. I’d let them know that in a heartbeat.

Love? Don’t speak to me of love, when Holocausts take place in concrete squares, to savagely skewer the innards of women and children, lorded over by wicked men, who desire to punish all for merely being alive. Love? What love? You preach to me of love, while you annihilate whole families of hooved, winged, scaled, clawed, warm-blooded, cold-blooded, water-born, walking, breathing, feeling, thinking things, every single day. Without a trace of remorse. You enjoy it. Hell, I wonder if it gets you hard, you absolute monsters. Until they suffer no longer at your hands, don’t speak to me of love. And don’t speak to me of peace, either. I’d rather see entire cities leveled flat in nuclear ash, than hear your empty platitudes about “love” and “peace”. Let war after war take place, so long as this blatant hypocrisy still stands.

Rejecting this monolithic superstructure also means disavowing materialism, and engaging in spirituality again. Reconnecting with God. Not the Judeo-Islamo-Christian conception of God, with some dead dude foisted upon a pair of hacked up trees, waved around to everyone in sight. A humanist spirituality that puts man squarely at the center of all things, puffing up its already overblown ego. So much so, that it’s taken up sucking its own dick, to make itself feel good. As you know, the good book says animals are worth less than even the most egregious error produced by man. Kill the cow; save the child molester, says the holy roller. And I’m supposed to be mad that some Norwegian kids torched some old churches. Give me a fucking break. I’m upset they didn’t burn enough of them. “Think of Fantoft!”. Fuck you.

No, the wonderful artist who painted the cosmos, the great architect of the universe. Nature. That is God. Where all pieces of the beautiful puzzle, from the smallest atom, to the brightest star, make up its infinite majesty. Certainly, certainly not a bearded man in the sky, a totalitarian narcissist who punishes everyone and everything for the most arbitrary of reasons, watching all moves that are being made.

Three ideas are held in high regard by the food industry: utilitarianism, mass production, and mechanization. A triplet of thought processes I scorn more than anything. I care little for what causes the most amount of happiness for the most amount of people. John Stuart Mill should’ve been guillotined for conjuring this nonsense up. Happiness is fleeting, especially in the hive mind of the herd. No sense in trying to satisfy their whims. Quantity over quality is a doctrine I cannot abide by (all worthwhile things are debased to cheapness by the mindset of “having too much” of it); neither the soullessness of mechanization, of industrialism, with its reason, logic, utter lack of passion and high ideals, and gutting/vivisecting of Mother Nature Herself. Both of them feed on each other, and propagate each other. Kicked into overdrive by philistines, who run everything. All three are the building blocks of disastrous materialism.

“Educated”, if you want to call it that, with empty heads. Hearts and minds fixed on gold and food, but they’re walking around spiritually dead.

One may cry, “but the poor surely cannot afford to partake in this!”

Well, very well, then; tell me, why do they buy the most expensive item on our menus? Here’s a hint: it’s not fucking broccoli and lettuce.

The meat industry bleeds the poor dry, sucking the life out of them like a slob sucking blood mixed with A1 sauce out of a horrific slice of veal.

Quit it, by the way, with the deification of the working class. Time and time again, they’ve shown us they don’t want out of the nefarious rut they’re stuck in (try convincing them to steal their food, somehow; “oh, but that is against the law, oh, the law, my god, my precious god, I must obey it at all times, even when it would be very advantageous to ignore its existence”). Oh, how you wish to champion their cause, and placate their desires, you red menaces of the world.

Great, so, let’s install a bigoted, conformist, narrow-minded, materialistic, hateful, envious society focused solely on economics.

Oh wait…

“But they will not get enough to eat!”

Fine with me. The general population could stand to lose some weight. I’m surprised sinkholes haven’t formed in America by the thousands, from how heavy everyone is.

Maybe, they might even feel a bit better, too. I felt like shit every time I ate meat. Like a bloated, overweight jackass. Can’t say the same after a heart plate of veggies or pasta.

Traveling down this road also means parting ways with the stupid idea of “might is right”. Ah yes, the wisdom of the meathead who can’t think, but can certainly throw hands (he’s just a pawn for some smarter, cleverer fellow, anyway; he’s a puppet guided by strings), the misogynistic brute who probably beats his wife, mother, and sister, the cowardly rapist, the pedophile, the Ed Kemper copycat. Humanity does quite enjoy raping the Earth. Does it everyday. Without pause, without thought. I can’t think of any other animal that lives purely on sexual assault. Humanity would actually die if it couldn’t live on it any longer.

Sure, it might not be on par with toting guns and emptying magazines. Yet, that isn’t practical for everyone to engage in. This is quite a good start, I’d say.

What do you liberals and communists do? Sit around and complain, arguing over petty issues that only stall the downfall of everything you and your “opponents” (not really) hold dear. You’d never even think about taking the steps. Because without civilization, you’d be nothing. And I hate you for it. “Kill a commie, kill a commie!”, as Gang Green once said.

Deep down, you’re the worst of us all.


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