A Hatred of Failure

We are all failures.

At some point in our long yet all too short lives, we have kissed the edge of failure, with consequences both dreadful and puny emanating as a result. People suffered. We are all the sum of past failures, past and present. Yes, even the dead are not above blame: their time on earth, regardless of brevity or epochal length, was just as filled with one sad disappointment after another. If I had infinite time and resources, I would find fault with every single one of us, all 25 billion or so that exist or the 100 billion yet to come—but, I lack the time or the resources, so I won’t. Instead, my target list must be more refined, and for that reason alone: I’ve made this, a hate-missile publication aimed solely (or mostly) at the powerful in order to fully and truly critique them, and their endlessly disappointing half-victories.

Hey Doesn’t This Sound Like…

Yes. The meme. The video. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, good. I will get into my critiques about her later, but suffice it to say that yes, that video is one of the inspirations that led me to say no: I don’t care about power. I imagine I could do a half-decent job at it, but no: I refuse to bow to the present social norms required to achieve it. It belittles me, both spiritually and personally, to have to contort myself to the rhythm and rhyme of daily modern politics; a literal horse race, with similar monetary stakes. I’d rather all society say “she knows power, let her wield it”, than suffer one iota of the minutiae. And even then: no. It’s a fool’s game, played by dead men and dead women.

For I’m going to die. And so are you.

Soon, one day, one year, one season, your eyes will close and your consciousness with it. The end. If there’s an after, it’s not been observed in the physical world. Believe in it if you want, or don’t, but that there is an end, a point, some point, any point: no one doubts that. And if it lasts an eternity or a second it neither matters: it is still An End.

The best of us could craft a perfect system that lasted anywhere between one and three centuries. It is said that our living historical memory, that which forms what we hold dearest, lasts until the final grandchild of the original observer of a historical event dies. For instance, if an event occurs in 1800, and a grandchild of someone who observed that event died in 1872, then living historical memory, such as it was, will have completely died out. The logic behind this is simple: it goes back to our verbal linguistic patterns.

“I was there, I saw it” is stronger than “my ancestor was there, they saw it”. This is how our human history was recorded for hundreds of thousands of years. Yet things fade, purposes decay. So it is with regimes. No regime is stable against the ravages of time. If they were, we would have no states, no leaders. For we would not need governance at all, being immortal and perfect beings.

No powerful person is perfect in recognizing their mortality. Indeed—few, if any, have a grand plan that encompasses anything beyond the immediate future. And you know this. Life is about failing upwards. There is no grand scheme, no great design. You live, you die: everything between that is ordered chaos.

If you read the present great biographies and histories, mass produced for libraries and publications and mass profit, you will conclude falsely that great people are indeed great. Divinely blessed, perhaps, if by events, to greatness. This concept, birthed by a recent detestable class of pop historians, have rendered the sum of human experience to raw bullet points. Think of the second greatest historical person to Western audiences: Caesar. And think now of what you know of Caesar, not the person, but the society he lived in, and the historical roots that formed that society: the thousands and the tens of thousands of years of migration and war and farming. You cannot know. No one can. No one wrote down every moment, every data point. You can make no definitive conclusion on Caesar, on any person.

But even so: you can read and know what he and his contemporaries left behind, sometimes through secondary sources but often through primary sources. And there you see the truth: for all mankind, it is guesswork. If you crack open any original primary source, written by the hands of those who lived through events, the truth shines through: none of us have any plan. We guess what the future is, or may hold, but no one made this future but all of us together. This might work. That’s it. That’s all that drives these men, all that drives any of us. For even in surety of labor harbor we some few doubts. Even an experienced carpenter bludgeons his nail.

And thus:

HATRED

I hate everything about us. Call it what you want: the human condition, humanity, society, et cetera. We exist disordered, like mindless beasts roaming an endless field, except we have mastered enough control over our physical environment to render us dangerous.

Cities and states burn because our command over the physical is near-total. Even the atom has been split, radiation spewing forth poison that contaminates our fragile biologies. We will kill ourselves, given time and motivation. It may not arrive all at once and all in sequence, but the weight of our sins will bear down and break us. By stochastic miracle we have made it to the stars, but our idiocy confines us to the graves.

Thus hate.

What is hate? A correction. A wrong observed and righted. The observation imbues emotion and causal purpose, and the action taken is neither correct or incorrect: but just.

My heart burns against the powerful, against those who command the engines of society. It burns hotter than my disdain for anything else. Here’s why: the powerful, all of them, those with any power, could have left well enough alone. To choose power is to choose dominion. And at some point in their lives, these people—these cretins and ghouls as I will depict here in this publication—decided that they should have influence—power—over others. That their vision was more rightly guided, better suited for our world than the status quo.

But they’re wrong. They’re wrong to want power but moreover: they’re wrong to wield it. Why? What makes them so unfit, to govern, to rule? I will tell you.

Money

You can read what you want on here for free. That may change, that may not. I might fuck around with paid posts, I might not. If I do a podcast or youtube series: watch out.

What will not change is MY desire for YOUR hard-earned dollars. You’ll meet many liars in your life and perhaps the worst will be those who espouse how much they hate their material possessions. First off, those people are con artists and you should cut them off from your life before they scam you as they’re already likely doing. Second: life’s all about money. If I want this to reach more people (I do), I need capital. Lots of it. And whatever amount you have in your mind: it will never be enough. This is ideological warfare against the powerful, which is like siege warfare, in that each line, each social barrier must be carefully encircled and placed under total envelopment. What begins as one person’s thoughts penetrates the defenses, the next mental barrier, next trench line, on and on until a contagion forms and spreads to more minds and then, into something real, something physical. What that real, what that physical will be: who can say. Of course, I have a plan. But plans never pan out; all that matters is forward momentum. Plainly: if you like my work and want more of it, you should give me money.

Thus I won’t lie: I want your money. I want all of your money—I want all the money you can give me, and more. I am self-confident, regardless of personal attacks or critiques, that what I have to say is important. I don’t feel bad asking for money, and nor should you. If you have a vision, a dream, chase it. It’s yours, with enough drive. And indeed you’ll fail, as I detail over and over again in this publication, as I myself have failed and will continue to fail. But if you support me, at least you’ll know where everyone prior and contemporaneous faltered. That is what I promise to give to you.