Thinking about one of my black readers from a while ago who started shouting out of his multistory window about Jews until the cops arrived and he filmed it, then he went into psychosis and all his friends made fun of him, then he killed himself. A more heroic way of going out than most. At least he made an attempt to open the gates of hell. The top of the brain really is off-limits. I’m sure there are real neurological correlates if brain scientists were ever allowed to do such studies. For now I content myself with mapping it using the humanities. I see it as a universal form of cancer. Or rather than a “chronic pain” a chronic numbness. What did you have for breakfast? Do you remember some of these people from history I discuss, the Ukrainian Shevchenko whose poetry led to the freeing of the serfs? We need someone like that and everyone is in denial about it. The jid worldview keeps everyone down, even the blacks. It’s centered around making sure no one calls them kikes (which they are), and everything follows from that. That IS the nature of the little man at the levers in the control room in the top of your brain. I’ve performed surgery on myself to remove him, now I’m at the levers myself. The slavery fate has been chosen by most everyone else so I have turned to the classics lately, seeing politics proper to be futile. People prefer being on auto-pilot I guess. There probably wasn’t much of a difference between their true self and the kike in their brain anyway. Why do people get so mad when I try to remove that little man from their mind? I think it’s because he acts as a reality-filter. Some keep him locked in the control room better than others. I think my main problem is I feel like the king of the galaxy and don’t have anyone to share it with
You have to be a cog in order to get quality friends and someone worth loving, and being cogs themselves, that defeats the purpose of friendship and love.
Try to remember death why don’t you
Cog-women might as well already be at that state spiritually.
Spend your day with phonies at your job, get home and exchange automated platitudes with your blowup doll, raise your zogslave kids, think I give a fuck anymore? Fuck you too.
I think the internet has helped me escape the matrix beyond the level people are even supposed to. Now I have to spend decades fully aware of how pathetic humanity is.
Now that I said it, I do want to see the brain scan side of the stuff I speak of. I believe people are truly incapable of thinking in certain ways on a neurological level. Something to do with electricity maybe. I can only be figurative about it without science. The electricity is happening at the top of the brain and they are below it as its product rather than one with it. They might even get “too zapped” if they try to be one with it.
Badiou’s book In Praise of Love isn’t so bad
the two lovers met and something like a heroic act for One was enacted against the world… after which it is impossible to go back to a world that remains external to the relationship.
Similar to theatre, he says love is uniquely truth-producing. He calls them truth procedures which condition philosophy, and there are four- art (theatre), science (math), politics, and love. Theatre is PC, politics is PC, love is PC, and I don’t know much math, so it looks like I’m out of luck. No wonder I feel so deprived. At least there’s The Cantos, maybe I’ll return to that- that’s probably an even better candidate for stage adaptation than the Wake. And who to watch such a play with…