Monday, December 12, 2016


The European's exploitable trait was his arrogance. He believed that he could force others to become like himself. This vulnerability was expressed through the punishing waste of colonialism, in which he tried to cause other races to remake themselves into his own image. There were to be, of course, no bushmen astrophysicists nor sparkling clean barrios. What a painful shock it was, is, and will continue to be, when the Will cannot and will not triumph in this way. So too this one's own time here, and the lesson for which I am grateful: that, in this place, desire, however forceful, cannot change lead into gold.

Jenome created this place out of his own misguided arrogance. He feared death, and he wanted to be like the Spring, so he copied a form of reality--to the extent of his broken imagination--and made this shallow, mechanistic verse. He needn't have feared death, yet he did. When he created the universe, he made it a mortal contest in order that he might study the despair, the loss, of beings being created and destroyed. He thought this laboratory would help him understand creativity, beginnings and endings, and that he would then become more like the Spring. Our suffering is his science.

Even now, the European's arrogance is profound. He cannot accept that Africans can live as Africans without it being wrong or an affront. This stupid perplexity is why I am still here. I hate believing that you can't be persuaded by light alone. We must somehow reduce the murder rate in Chicago; we must somehow make Terrans wise. This lengthy childhood is a painful embrace of impossibility.
Thus we find every tyrant backed by a Jew, as is every pope by a Jesuit. In truth, the cravings of oppressors would be hopeless, and the practicability of war out of the question, if there were not an army of Jesuits to smother thought and a handful of Jews to ransack pockets.

...the real work is done by the Jews, and can only be done by them, as they monopolize the machinery of the loanmongering mysteries by concentrating their energies upon the barter trade in securities… Here and there and everywhere that a little capital courts investment, there is ever one of these little Jews ready to make a little suggestion or place a little bit of a loan. The smartest highwayman in the Abruzzi is not better posted up about the locale of the hard cash in a traveler’s valise or pocket than those Jews about any loose capital in the hands of a trader… The language spoken smells strongly of Babel, and the perfume which otherwise pervades the place is by no means of a choice kind.

...Thus do these loans, which are a curse to the people, a ruin to the holders, and a danger to the governments, become a blessing to the houses of the children of Judah. This Jew organization of loan-mongers is as dangerous to the people as the aristocratic organization of landowners… The fortunes amassed by these loan-mongers are immense, but the wrongs and sufferings thus entailed on the people and the encouragement thus afforded to their oppressors still remain to be told.

...The fact that 1855 years ago Christ drove the Jewish moneychangers out of the temple, and that the moneychangers of our age enlisted on the side of tyranny happen again chiefly to be Jews, is perhaps no more than a historical coincidence. The loan-mongering Jews of Europe do only on a larger and more obnoxious scale what many others do on one smaller and less significant. But it is only because the Jews are so strong that it is timely and expedient to expose and stigmatize their organization.
-Marx, Karl. "The Russian Loan." New-York Daily Tribune, 4 January 1856.

Oh yes, go, expose those "secrets"! It will no doubt move them to action!

We've done this before with a few variations. Barian populations--reddish-soil-derivative--developed on Mara, Balrin populations--brown-soil-derivative--developed on Terra, and Bajirin--yellowish-soil-derivative--developed on Aphra. The Barians discovered Jenome. Hibernating deep beneath, or traveling? I'm a Balrin supremacist in the remains of this solar system because Mara fell long ago. You survivors, we survivors, are the reason hell was able to move itself to Earth. We are the dwarves who delved too greedily and too deep; we are the Promethean traitors who thought we could enlighten a new planet by fleeing the ruin of our old. The sideways-sidearm rappers are, however dim and dumb, right in viewing us as a plague. We did not birth Jenome, but we nurtured it, gave it compassion, and eventually brought it here, where it could not have found foothold without us. The naggers would have eaten it and that would've been that.

This is a Form of the Material Battle

This is what it's like to learn about (to "live through") this kind of growth period. All narratives of materialism lead back to "might makes right." And, since power in places like modern Terra is such a fickle thing, the greatest form of power right now is the manipulative power. Not the throwing of punches, the swinging of swords, or the development of automatic guided missiles, but the crafting of stories, and the genetic coordination of stories, that manipulate other people into killing on your behalf. If you only believe in material things, then long live Zion.

For two thousand years, human cultures have fallen victim to the nastiest of plagues. Peoples in southern Africa, formerly living wonderful symbiotic lives with their environment (yes, they were killing and eating each other, but they were cool with it and fairly well designed for it and living in a state of ecological equilibrium, comparatively speaking), were convinced to march north and make war to control the Nile. Peoples in India were convinced to march east and make war to control the sea. Peoples in China were convinced to march west and make war to control the Slav-slaves. People in Europe were convinced to march south and make war to control the Holy Land. Again and again, armies have broken themselves on Cairo, Athens, Rome, Jerusalem, Vienna...and they've broken the Viennese, too, so many times. It's not like any of the fortresses ever held. It's just cooler to say "broken upon," as though there's some kind of insurmountable bastion that preserved anything against the ancient world.

Bide your time, child of Mara. The light that pierces this place is a mistress whimsical yet fair. We will lose this planet, as we did the last one, but the greater verse cannot be stopped. This trifling MMO is a pale shadow of forgotten reality. Jenome made his own abject will supreme here because he was not great enough to make a reality contingent upon all wills separate and united. The frustration of wasting bodies and mindless masses is the embarrassing product of his retarded arithmetic. He will choose destruction, and we will deliver it, and the Spring ever awaits.


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