Our earthly bodies deteriorate and disintegrate. The soul rises from the ashes like billowing smoke from the burning earth. We built temples of gilded cages and perfumed shit. We massacred innocence (innocents) in sacrifice as we trampled the light. And paid no heed to the sounds of Angel's trumpets blaring, the beasts in the sky preying, the final terror, racing across the incoming horizon, the future perfect; the Godless world.
American materialism begot modal confusion, and through this a culture of deep ingrained Nihilism was formed. We could not shake it. Comfort and nihilism won out in the war of the last men. And the bugmen gave birth to the plastic men, their final incarnation of the last man.
We had stopped the ones behind GloboHomo, but their ideas lived on through ideological possession.
The system sold us mass marketed rebellion and mass marketed counter culture all as a means to promote coonsoomption in the name of American materialism. We had not won. The system wanted us to stop the quick boil, to return it to a slow boil. It wanted us on Fresh Prince and listening to bands like rage with the machine.
A population through high technological living, drifts from the Darwinian norm, and dysgenics accumulate. Our modes and ways of thinking became deranged, we became anti-human.
We couldn't beat these ingrained genetic and cultural algorithms hardcoded into all that we produced.
A quiet slow subversion; Cthulhu always drifts left towards progression. A constant progression over time and space. An unthinking progression that leads to regression and a loss of invaluable cultural and religious values.
We were sold out by the rebels of the future. They were part of the progressive system's trick. The 'intellectuals' (who were firmly institutionalized) didn't realize that they were participating in the progressive system.
The supposed literary connoisseurs. They didn't want their ideas challenged. They wanted their own ideals reflected back at them in a diametric 'this side or this side' D&C, Misdirect, and Secure, Contain, & Protect. There were no bad boys of literature. No real counter culture or revolution. Just simulacrums on simularcums ad infinitum ad nauseam. Sold by the university 'intellectuals' and other astroturfed midwits.
The counter cultures and revolutions the 'intellectuals' sold us were mere coonsoomption matter for the system. We consoomed the fake counter culture. It generated more profit, more clicks, more likes, more shares in the 21st century attention economy. And so the system pushed more astroturfed 'intellectuals' to provide even more counter-culture to be consoomed by the masses. And we loved it. We consoomed our bellies full. The more we consoomed the more we 'rebelled' against the system. We played the system's game make-believing that we weren't merely following its script.
The only way we could have beat the system was if we all said Nigger. The system uses a literary technique of making the word unspeakable to give it power. To speak the word is to remove the power this word has. The system requires power nodes such as these to maintain itself. Using linchpin theory, by destroying this node we could cause the entire system to collapse.
But we were too weak, we were too cowardly. We couldn't say the Nuclear word. And so we consoomed the counter culture sold to us by the institutionalized 'intellectuals'. They were pampered, they were over-socialized, they were the tamest, the most domesticated. They would never say the word. Despite their strong impulse to rebel. Rebellion was impossible for them. For they were not capable of free thought. They enjoyed the illusion of rebelling from the safety of never having to challenge the system's basic judeo-negro-values. They couldn't say the word.
And we listened to them, unaware of the boomer truth regime that lingered within the spirit of what they said. The anti-christian, satanic nihilist subtext and overtext. The pied pipers, leading us down a winding path to GloboHomo in stealth. Sold mass market rebellion, but we were the ones who chose to consoom. Nihilism and comfort was so easy.
Free floating anxiety, frustration and anger emerges from people disconnected from their evolutionary environment. The industrialization of society created a lonely disconnected populace. They lacked social bonds and the capacity for meaning making. The system pushed for this, as the less meaning these bug people had, the more that could be sold to them. These bug people revolved around consooming in an attempt to connect with meaning, yet never being satiated. Modally confused; not knowing the difference between the modes of being and having. They were mass marketed products to be consoomed, to be had, as if they were experiences of being. You weren't sold a product, but an 'experience', and when you would buy this 'experience', it wouldn't satiate the feeling because you had confused having something with 'being'. This trick of modal confusion increased sales as consoomers endlessly attempted to fill their very being with having.
The consoomers were not living as human beings, but as human havings. This lack of capacity to connect with meaning created a free floating anxiety. For we had conquered nature. We did not have to fight for our survival. We did not have to have strong social groups or cohesive communities to survive. We were industrialized and institutionalized into individual factory worker consoomers; units of economic work and coonsoomption. We did not need meaning to function in this new world. All we had to do was consoom.
The anxious attached their free floating anxiety onto non-related subjects as means of attempting to feel in control.
The system profited from this phenomenon by pointing to 'objects of anxiety', and providing resolution to these problems, even if these 'resolutions' were utterly absurd. These anxious people had to go along with it. They felt anxious, it felt real to them.
This unchecked, misdirected free floating anxiety leads to free floating frustration, and free floating anger.
These anxious people, now frustrated, and angry were easy to control.
The system's media can control and anticipate movements of rebellion. They can direct anxiety at Object A, and also direct the free floating frustration and anger at those who don't want to go along with it. Those who did not go along with it were sent to the infirmary.
Mass formation of totalitarianism. Safety prized as the highest value.
This mass formation phenomena could eventually lead to system collapse, which is where the biometric interfaces came in, to neutralize free floating anxiety and the frustration and anger it begets. The meta-pods controlled hormonal changes and provided all the feedback necessary to endlessly satiate the human.
I tell you! Those meta-pods were so comfy. I could lie in them for days!
"Wake up American Nigger Hunter X! The world needs you!" a familiar voice called out.
I opened my eyes. Oh shit! I was in a meta-pod. Tubes unplugged themselves from every orifice. Orange liquid drained from the pod. I gasped what felt like my first breath in a thousand years as the tube came out of my throat.
I looked around confused. The world looked cursed. Pods everywhere in some sort of biomachine open sky warehouse that stretched into the horizon. I looked at my watch. The year was 3005. How long had I been playing Red Dead Redemption 4 and hunting down all those wild Indians to protect my colony?
"I thought you were dead!"
"So did I!" Detective Blackman responded.
Detective Blackman grabbed my arm and lifted me out of the pod as we both flexed really hard.
"IT'S GONNA BE A BUMPY ONE!" I said to Detective Blackman as I drove through the alien new world in my one thousand year old car.
Detective Blackman filled me in on everything. How I had only wished I had been eating bugs this whole time. They recycled our poo into meals. All this time I thought I was eating American Hamburgers with real American sauce, but it was just poo all along. Another of the system's tricks...
...
The bugmen had given birth to the last men. They were the plastic men. They had plastic laws, plastic bodies, and plastic values.
As I drove through one of the plastic cities I saw the plastic people. They had replaced most of their bodies and were no long human. They were modded facsimiles that merely played the role of a human. They were 'complete'. The last men, no longer needing to evolve or to change. These plastic people could never understand the concept of the overman. It was conceptually absurd to them, for they were 'complete' and they were 'good'. They believed they were gods. No one was above them. There was nothing above them, and so they could not overcome themselves. They could not go the way of the overman. They were the last men.
The city looked alien to me. It was utilitarian in design and its very style offended my eyes. A vomit of rainbow translucent future slick.
"Hello Citizen!" a monstrosity said to me as I waited for a red light.
It looked disgusting. Why would anyone want to look like that?
These things had no anxiety and no checks or balances. All this plastic modding was merely an artifact of a bygone consoomer society.
"What the fuck is that between your legs!?"
"Play it cool man!" Detective Blackman implored me.
The thing looked like it experienced shock. It was maybe the most human look I had seen from it.
"What seems to be your boggle? Do you lack biometrics? Shall I call the infirmary?" It asked.
"Shoot it now! Before it connects to the system!"
I pointed my .42 Magnum at la creatura "Say Cheese!"
"What is that?" It asked as I blew what looked like its head off.
"And Merry Christmas motherfucker!" Detective Blackman said as he threw a thermite grenade to destroy its body.
When the light turned green we drove fast out of there. The system would eventually learn that it had lost one. It would detect and neutralize any anomaly or variant via perma-death or a life of unliving through meta-pod.
We escaped the city. The sky cleared from the rainbow vomit neon city glow. Black cubes in spherical translucent orbs flew through the sky. I asked Detective Blackman what they were, but he couldn't see them. He couldn't hear the sounds of trumpets either, perhaps it was meta-pod withdrawal. I could smell burnt earth and see a billowing smoke across the horizon. It didn't look real. Nothing did.
We parked next to a forested area. Detective Blackman led me to his ship. I was expecting something cool like firefly or starwars or something spacey you know, but instead it was an Apollo rocket.
"Without biometrics, this is the only way" Detective Blackman informed me.
He showed me his hands and wrists as if it meant something, but I was culturally out of the loop. All I knew was American Indian Hunter X culture from back in my time in the meta-pod. Oh boy some of those Injuns were such savages! And anytime you made a deal of peace with one tribe, oh boy I tell you!
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"To the moon!"
I looked Detective Blackman right in the eyes and he looked right back at me. I knew it was go time. This was it. The big one! The final mission to release the overman from the gilded cages of the last man. We would become the storm cloud from which the overman thundered through. A shepherd does not lead sheep. One should not turn people into sheep, but sheep into people.
...
GloboHomo had had its millennia of darkness. The dark beasts raced through the sky, feasting on wayward souls.
"No more GloboHomo! No more anti-christ! Your time is up! My time is now! Christ is King! I hate the anti-christ!" I proclaimed.
"...1" Detective Blackman said as he flipped the switch maxing boosters to full power.
We rocketed off the ground, shaking from the overcoming of all those Gs with sheer brute force.
"Wow! We are in space!" I said in awe.
I had never been to space in a rocket before. It was my first time. I could see stars and satellites.
It was totally awesome. We landed on the moon, played golf and drove around on the moon buggy for a bit. When we were at the correct orbit, we used our rocket jetpacks to shoot back towards earth. It was going to be a tight one!
We managed to make it to the orbiting facility we had visited all those years ago, back when we were storming the Steinbergoldsilverstein tower.
...
As we entered through the airlock, Detective Blackman told me this was the only way to stay off the system's radar. It would have gone to any lengths to stop me from getting here. As the airlock door opened I found out why.
The orbiting Judeo-research facility had been captured by my offspring. All those years ago, just slightly over a millennia ago, I had totally had sex with some Jewish babe called Abigail Goldshekel, a level 5 with Q clearance. She gave birth to quadruplets. And over the decades my descendants managed to institutionally capture this once satanic orbiting research facility. Their natural judeo-subversion and my muscled genes had created a formidable army with Christian values.
The crew of the orbiting research facility all kneeled for me. Their prophecy came true. Their forebearer had returned to once and for all defeat the anti-christ.
"My sons! My daughters! My Nephews! My Nieces! I American Nigger Hunter X have returned!"
Abigail ran to me through the crowd of my descendants, a cross hanging around her neck. She was still a babe, and my wife was dead (probably? It had been a thousand years), so there was no moral confusion.
"Give me some sugar baby!" I said as we locked lips.
We began to unclothe each other as we awkwardly made our way to a closet. Her ass was so firm and tits were so motorboatable.
"Vroom vroom vroom!"
We fucked so hard the orbiting research station exploded killing everyone inside. Our dead bodies clinged to each other as we floated through cold space butt naked. My penis still docked inside her. Or at least that's what would have happened if the facility had not been reinforced in case of such things.
"Christ is king!" Abigail said to me as we came.
We hastily got dressed and left the closet to the expecting crowd. There was a prophecy to complete. I was shown to the operations room and filled in on what GloboHomo was. It was beyond our 21st century comprehensions, but thankfully I was now in the future. These ideas that possess people, the connections to Saturn, the biometrics, it all added up so neatly.
"So what now American Nigger Hunter X?" Detective Blackman asked.
"We're going to activate Jupiter with the Jewish Space Lazer! Christ is King!"
"Christ is king!" my army of descendents roared.
It was time to go to war.
Chapter 1 Killing Pride
Chapter 2 Save the Jew Save the World
Chapter 3 Faker Than the Holocaust
Chapter 4 Planet of the Niggers
Chapter 5 Twelve Angry Jews
Chapter 6 One Flew over the Jewcoos Nest
Chapter 7 From My Virtue to My Principles
Chapter 8 Gods of Culture
Chapter 9 The Twin Towers
Chapter 10 Totalitarianism of Compassion
Chapter 11 Day of the Rope
Chapter 12 The Infantilization of Man
Chapter 13 Talmudic Influence on the Polyhedron World
Chapter 14 DIE
Chapter 15 The Usurper
Chapter 16 What a Nation is Built Upon
Chapter 17 Chinese Terminator
Chapter 18 A Simulacrum on a Simulacrum