Retarded Randoids Regenerate, Reproduce & Replicate

Idiocy at work: The Randoids

There is no objective morality, nor any objective “nature of man” beyond the biological functions.

Those comments are sickening.

Especially that adler (adler-junk) fucktard.

Fuck Ayn Rand and fuck objectivists. Same goes for you von Mises/Hayek lovers.

I had a dream…

I had a dream, a wonderful dream of visions; visions of things past, present and future, different from reality, so enchanting, beautiful and wondrous. I was I which was not I, not trapped in this body, this prison of flesh and thought and torments of sickness and vile lust. In the dream, I cut my wrists with a kitchen knife before my father, and the blood dripped on the white linoleum floor like my sisters vomiting up the blueberry jam she just ate. In the dream I flew with invisible wings above the sleeping city in the early morning; the trees, the houses and the lights, so wonderful and spectral under the dimming stars as the sun first heralds it’s arrival with a blue-tinted light on the horizon.

In my dream I walk with ease, worries of my own mortality vanish underneath the eternal flickering of the dreaming stars, blissfully unconcerned with the churning nonsense of everyday life, unconcerned with my own problems. A being without purpose, a being without mind and thought and worries, a being that just experiences; that was what I was, floating through a series of peaceful hallucinations, peaceful even when the guns were blazing and the bullets flying by, peaceful even when the fist deformed my jaw.

Ignorance of the void, the spatial oblivion of space, comforting only when we ponder how the dust that was once us and our human brethren, our magnificent cities and disgusting nature, will drift as stardust through a chilly multiverse, as collections of splitting mineral constellations. Our memories, every trace wiped out. In our dreams…

In my dream, this prison around me was no longer, liberated from the pressure of the horror of reality and my true nature; the original sin, or the original mistake. It cannot be undone, it cannot be changed, and we are speeding up, rushing onward towards a black eternal pit, the whining of ethereal flutes to keep Azathoth placid… And the universe colds, the lights turned off. Show is over. Time to leave.

And the purity, the pure ocean salt on your tongue, delicate like a kiss, a blinding second of ecstatic passion—oceans of time and space disconnect us, the very universe and existence our enemy, the ticking of the time; I dream of a shopping centre, a parking lot with many cars, but no people. It is only I, in this desolate wasteland of reality, an island of consciousness, absolutely loneliness… My tears are the salt on your tongue, do they taste well? I hope they do. It’s the only thing we’ll have to drink. At least for a while.

The flowers will grow in the pools of our tears, and our bodies will float on the ocean we form, the salinity of the Dead Sea…

Say what?

I guess it’s taste for purple nail polish, latex and girls clothes is something I share- yet… imbeciles.

Has Sundberg lost it completly?

There seems to be no end to this raving madness. Sundberg gets into gear for another battle with his arch-nemesis – Clas Svahn, the leader of the National Swedish UFO association (Riksföreningen UFO-Sverige). He started up a new blog dealing with “mysterious events”, which might have been why Sundberg embarked upon this new smear campaign.

Recently Sundberg claims he has been targeted by a bunch of drugged up lunatics trying to kill him and lurking outside his house as some revenge for some anti-drug movie Sundberg did. It seems that Sundberg playing Staffan Hildebrand didn’t quite work out well. Sundbergs old pages, gust.st and cryptozoologt.st, are still down. Their great skill in web-design you can behold for yourselves.

Coleman writes about evil American conspirators searching for Yetis in the Himalayas– while moonlighting as CIA agents spying on the Chinese trying to correct the troublesome Tibet problem.

Oh, one more thing…

The Ant Colony

Feet rushing by in endless thoughtless surges, like ants to and fro the ant hill; a daily commute, a daily shopping round. Neccessary goods acquired, desires satisified, satured transportation links and high-tech communication — all for what, exactly? Lives sacrificed so that you can eat cereal. Traffic in the colony. Yet there is no cure for absolute insanity.

Why can’t I get from here…

The world does not revolve around us.

The world was not created for us. The world was not created by us.

The world created us; and rebellious and obstinate as we were,

we turned on that which bred us; only we forgot to note that

when our host dies, so do we.

Narcissus.

He defines a narcissistic culture as one in which every activity and relationship is defined by the hedonistic need to acquire the symbols of spiritual wealth, this becoming the only expression of rigid, yet covert, social hierarchies. It is a culture where liberalism only exists insofar as it serves a consumer society, and even art, sex and religion lose their liberating power.

In such a society of constant competition, there can be no allies, and little transparency. The threats to acquisitions of social symbols are so numerous, varied and frequently incomprehensible, that defensiveness, as well as competitiveness, becomes a way of life. Any real sense of community is undermined — or even destroyed — to be replaced by virtual equivalents that strive, unsuccessfully, to synthesize a sense of community. It can mean also many other things.

Inert mass of mangled flesh.

The Tibet question persistently calls for a final solution; once and for all the Tibetan Youth Congress and the Government of Tibet in Exile must be eradicated by vigorous effort from the side of our beloved Chinese comrades when the purge the CPC of its vile corrupt capitalist leadership. Infantile westerners looking down from upon their softly rocking moral high-horse can no longer be allowed to roam free. Renfail was sent off to China, arrived late last week; The Evening Whore cites five things he should bring up, which included free movements for foreign press within China… and Renfail will pretend anyone cares what he, a powerless leader of a small nation, will say and do. Delusions of grandeur.

Some kids apparently wanted to murder the useless douche Chuck Norris. It’s about time someone takes time to remove that cancerous curse from the face of this planet, that no-good repugnant Christian lunatic should be “fixed”. Whacked. Though the kids’ death-threats were most likely jokes. I joke like that all the time. It’s hilarious. I recall a friend in school who once called in a bomb threat to a local school, though sadly he was not articulate enough for them to comprehend his half-laughed shouting: “In 2 hours it’ll blow!” I’m sure many laughs would have been had if only he’d taken time to calm down before uttering it all.

Chuck Norris does not miss the opportunity to promote his own solution to the marginalisation of certain students; he preaches to those “lost souls” and offer salvation… in martial arts. Chuck Norris the retard, the subject of a stupid pathetic Internet meme some years ago that certain ill fellows still think is hilarious—would not be missed if he were to depart this world. His accursed wretchedness is inexcusable.

In other news, brain-dead Evening Whore-forums poster CREST, or as he is also known as “crust”, went on to appear once again with a show of his splendid intelligence when he praised Fredrik Reinfeldt (Renfail) for his very bright activities in China a few days ago. Renfail left the Administration, or as he himself likes to think of it, Hu Jintao personally, a list of 13 degenerate human rights activists which he would like to see freed from Chinese prisons. It was much applauded at home in Sweden, were locals suffering from a inane belief in their own importance believed it to be an significant move that would actually prompt the Chinese meet the demands for democratisation.

Alas, Dalai Lama, once funded by the CIA back in the olden times as means to provide insurgency in the region and check Chinese influence, has found much better realms of existence. He now goes on political crusades for democracy and other disgusting things, and constantly tours the western world while speaking vague rubbish before audiences of inbred mongrels. Flat tax, fair tax, same shit; all the same, democracy, shitocracy (funny as hell, I know, right?), democrazy, democide, genocide, the subversive groups must be purged, fixed; kill Dalai Lama, nuke England, seize power in the U.S., outlaw political campaigning for the flat tax, jail people that disagree, have people for pets in your dungeon—

Circles in the snow, the autumn leaves fall from the trees, colours white and brown, a disgusting mishmash – scissors in the flesh, the accursed liberals seizing the world; the collapse of the USSR the greatest disaster in history, now unchecked liberal democracy is infecting the world, human rights galore. Outlaw Amnesty International, jail activists! Stop free choice! Stop the free market! The world endlessly spiralling downwards uncontrollably, towards a black abyss, across the river children cry for their dead mothers…

Force feed me your love-nectar, my dear–

Society of the Godless.

A lunatic is a lunatic is a lunatic.

I had a dream. A dream wherein the world was flat, and in the sky huge detached heads hung with bulbous cheeks blowing the currents of the wind; a 1700’s copper stick mangled into a pornographic panorama – meaning what? The “Dream-coach” could not tell me, he merely raved on about personal issues I felt were in no way related to the issue at hand. But such is our individualist society. Every human a universe on its own, unrelated; betwixt the different universes are no threads, no connections, just magnetic forces distantly acting upon one-another, constellations of stars radiating rays of energy into space too faint to be seen, worm-holes, spatial paradoxes—the enigma, the unexplainable, remains unexplained; the knowledge we could not gain because we were busy contemplating whether we should wear a red or a blue tie to the graduation ceremony.

The focus lost, in Tibet the separatists, the brainless ethnocentric scum, running in circles on the streets of Lhasa; this is lend-lease; “we give you the guns, but you fight”, thus spake Dalai Lama, the old uninterested leader—the Brezhnev of the East—and flushed down a handful of painkillers with a shot of whiskey. I am from The League of the Militant Godless; we come to you tonight with only one goal in mind. We shall put your God on the cross, to prove to you it is a mere mortal much like you; we are well-exercised in the fine art of executing ideas. An Idea can survive the longest human lifespan, but it cannot survive us. We’ll light a fire underneath the cross and dance, and we’ll say “Nyah” a million times before the fire dies.

Love – don’t love

That depends on the eye that sees,
that depends on the heart that beats.

Deep down inside I long (nothing will be like before)
Deep down inside I cry (nothing will be like before)
Deep down inside

A volcano – an ocean of time
A cloud creates shadows of doubts

Deep down inside I long (nothing will be like before)
Deep down inside I cry (nothing will be like before)
Deep down inside I grief (nothing will be like before)
Deep down inside

A closed hand,
bloody string.
A closed mind -
angel blind
There is a medicine

Deep down inside I long (nothing will be like before)
Deep down inside I cry (nothing will be like before)
Deep down inside I grief (nothing will be like before)
Deep down inside

The Lonely Night Hysteria.

You did it again,
yes you in the mirror,
you put your faith in a cruel world,
All my dead friends come to haunt, harm and hinder, never letting go,
here to drag me down to Hell,
just say goodbye…

I was much offended this morning when I came to notice that a Christian Criminal had commented a rather old blogpost of mine, obviously appalled at my closing statement about how religious clergy should be executed and religious believers sent to labour and re-education camps for training in the proper ways to see the world. Beginning with some cautious moves – “I am not even sure it is worth commenting” – this diseased fellow is sure one bad sick bastard. Of course it ISN’T WORTH COMMENTING. Why did you have to do it? I chose to approve the comment, however, because it splendidly shows the true stupidity and fail of religious people.

“You make the same old assumption that thru out the ages has been made: Christianity =’s religion.” Here, as far as I was able to read, this person claims that I equate all religion to Christianity, or something. I am not sure, there’s a strange “’s” after the “=”, so maybe it was intended to be something else. The post in question specified that it was for all religions. This includes Islam, Hinduism, most forms of Buddhism, Mormons, Judaism, Catholicism, Protestantism, etc. I hope this deranged one isn’t suggesting Christianity is something more than a mere religion— in which case this person is more stupid than I first thought.

Then the Christian deviator continues to and fails to make much sense, since it seems as if it has not properly read the post. Oh, and Jesus never existed the way he was portrayed in the Bible, hope you know that. Then it seems to suggest that I am prideful and believe I am without sin—I am anything but prideful (but sure as hell HATE-ful). One part – “Religion is nothing more than Man or womankind’s attempt to explain our existence. This is not Christianity… The work of Christ was not to explain our existence but to offer eternal life…” – seems to suggest I have initiated a discussion of this. It was the old redneck in the videos to which I linked which presented Christianity as an explanation to existence; which by the way is a crucial part of most religions, including Christianity, regardless.

Then the post suddenly loses touch with reality; claiming I see myself as the high priest of history and the well-read bearer of truth, which is just a fucking stupid thing to say. I’d never raise myself to such heights. I am of the opinion that everything I and everyone else says is utter rubbish, a retarded voluminous regurgitation of nothingness, a black hole of fail. I’m full of shit, and so are you, Christian. I know nothing, and neither do you. We all just assume a lot of tripe is true, though we will really never know, the end days you await will come someday, maybe you’ll be long dead by then or not, but it will never be the way it is in your orgasmic fantasies. Nothing ever is.

The end is the end. We walk a uneven path through a rugged mountainous landscape of deserted villages and pitch black forests full of decaying carcasses. Everything is a lie. There is no such thing as truth. Your views are out there and all over the place, oh Christian deviator, you will be judged one day, not by God or Jesus, but by my firing squads: an event you cannot stop no matter how much you believe. It will be the end of humankind, for nobody will escape my grasp, you are all dirty, sick; we are all sinners, rot woven into flesh, the smell of scorched human bone, and as such we must be eradicated. No more promises and hopes, no more FAITH or other delusions, no more false belief in how things will work out in the end—

No sorting, no mercy; all equal at last, tissue ripped off limbs and grilled pink, a public barbeque, the mass extermination of the human race, the final solution. Do not make the mistake to assume I hold myself above others. I am certain that I am as worthless as anyone, and I will finish of myself once my job of eradicating everyone else is completed, for as I am a human like the rest of them, I must also perish in the Great Purge.

Now that this issue has been sorted out, I’d also like to add one more thing. It was that day a while ago. The day whose name shall not be mentioned, sometimes referred to as the “Day of Love”. The day it was incepted in its modern form was certainly not a day of victory—well, not victory of love, either way. Maybe victory for the companies selling flowers and heart-shaped objects and chocolate in red heart-shaped boxes. I’d like chocolate in a yellow box shaped like a hammer and sickle, where each little bar looks like the badge provided by the State Stalin Prize 1941-1954. That’d truly be a superior thing. Much better than some pesky hearts… though hearts in a realistic and accurate shape and size made of chocolate would be pretty cool too. I’m not sure I’d like to desecrate such a great thing by eating it, however. I prefer my Stalin medals intact.

We love like fighting cats, sleeping under the moon outside a burning barn, bringing heat to our frozen bodies by way sex and proximity to the fire, slowly burning out and diminishing into a glowing mountain of grey-black ashes, like a volcano by night it glows—and we, intoxicated by love and ecstatic sex, embrace one another and become as one.

There’s no such thing as free will, so what does it matter that “freedom” is “infringed upon”? People should not be free. The Bible is pretty unclear on the subject of free will, occasionally suggesting it exists, other times not; how is it going to be? Are we responsible for our own sins, or is God? Does God make us repent; make us ask for redemption for the sins God made us commit? Why would God create organisms so imperfect such as us? If we were created in the image of God, what does that tell you about God? : That God is a mean, sadistic psychopathic control freak, worse than even me, and on top of that – unlike me – God is omnipotent, all-powerful. I have no power. I make no difference and have no illusions thereabout.

Contradicting ourselves is in our very nature.

Is this life this degradation
this pointless game, humiliation
Born to die, we’re born to lose
and not one choice we make we choose
And when this life is at an end
we find that Death’s our only friend
Must we suffer through your games, oh Lord?
Can God really be so bored?

We waste our lives destroying, hating,
while beneath our flesh a skull lies waiting
Blind to beauty blind to love,
we fear of our loving Lord above
Some live their lives to play their games,
some live as victims, the insane
Your experiment oh Lord has failed
and I trust that when we meet you will forgive us

It’s futile so I’ll end this note
and find a knife and slit my throat
and come to track you down oh Lord
you better watch your back,
be sure that when we meet you’ll be surprised
no loving praise, no glee filled cries
Just pain and hate and tear filled sighs
and the question in the end is “Why?”

–London After Midnight, A Letter to God