by John Grauerholz
When you are injured in an automobile accident, I laugh. When you scream in pain, I smile in amusement. Your personal agony will always make my grin a little wider. Your own particular anguish always makes me feel a bit more satisfied. The more society begins to collapse, the greater my sense of contentment. As Western civilization begins to decline, the more I will delight in the show. The greater the carnage in the street, the more popcorn that I’m going to consume.
I cannot hide my disgust for mankind. I can either go around despondent & dejected at the human spectacle – or I can regard human existence as a sort of slapstick comedy. All the bloodshed ought to give one a belly-laugh, rather than an upset stomach. If watching a victim slip on a banana peel is funny in a situation comedy, then that same mishap would be so much more fun to witness at the local supermarket. If it is humorous when Punch hits Judy in the fairground booth, then it is so much more hilarious in real life.
I might not harm you, but I sure as hell am not going to help you either. No one has ever shown me the least bit of compassion in life, so I’ll be damned if I waste any concern on the likes of you. I am not going to kill you, but I’m certainly not going to be kind to you either.
I might not trip your child in the parking lot, but I will still be chuckling when the little bastard skins his knee. I might not kick you into the gutter – but I will be guffawing so hard that I will not be lifting you up, either. I am not going to give you a kidney stone, but I am going to do a little jig while you writhe in torment. I will not rape you, but I will be masturbating to those nude photos you thought that you had hidden-away in the sock drawer.
I might not starve you to death, but, if I am the first to find your emaciated corpse, I’ll be the one to remove your gold rings from your shriveled fingers. I might not give you the Ebola virus, but I will be buying up your prized possessions at the estate sale. I might not toss you under the bus, but I will be snapping a selfie in front of your mangled corpse. I may not shoot you dead, but I will be picking up the spent shell casings to reload.
It is prophesied that there shall be weeping & wailing in the End Times – and, God damn, I sure will be enjoying the spectacle. If you are cast into a pit of fire & brimstone, you can be certain that I’m going to be roasting marshmallows over the flames.
by John Grauerholz
You dream about going to some foreign destination, and when you finally get to the promised land, you find that the place is full of the same multinational shops and the selfsame strip malls as there were back home. You try some newly advertised hamburger only to find it tastes just like all the other fast-food slop.
You have always masturbated to a favorite sexual fantasy – and when you ultimately decide to experience the perverted act in real life, you find that reality does not even give you an orgasm. You fall in love with some woman and want to live happily ever after – but after you marry the broad, you realize that you never want to see her again.
You need to remember how it was when you were an adolescent and you need to recall all of those things that you once thought you would do with your life – now recognize what you have done with your years and realize that you have accomplished nothing. Better never to have bitten into the burger, better never to stuck your dick into the orifice, better never to have ejaculated your noxious essence – that to have realized such disillusionment.
Better never to have tried at all than to have proven to be so completely useless. Now you know just how worthless you truly are – but if you would have been wise enough to do nothing, then you could have cherished the illusion that things might actually be different. Better to feel unfulfilled than to be disappointed with yourself.
Only a conformist takes a chance. Only inferior being would bother to make an effort in existence.
Better never to have loved at all than to have failed so completely. Better to remain alone than to face the inevitably of failing – yet again – with the opposite sex. You are only going to fuck everything up – except for one thing: the woman you desire.
If there is a chance that you won’t succeed, then don’t even bother trying.
Think of an enlightened master from the Orient – the wise sage sits beneath the bodhi tree and feels nothing. To attain cosmic consciousness, you simply do nothing. If anything needs to be emoted in this world, pay someone else to do it for you. If someone needs to fall in love, let the hired hands experience the appropriate sentiments. If romance is necessary in life, then let your tradesmen do it for you.
by John Grauerholz
Although I am now ashamed to admit it, I studied anthropology as a university student. Back in my day, professors were inordinately fond of requiring long, essay-length responses on final exams. I can still remember one question from all those years ago: “Are people from all cultures capable of feeling love?” The answer, of course, is an emphatic “No.”
Not all people experience love. Romance is something invented by particular civilizations – love is not something innate to the human species. Most people on the planet are entirely incapable of feeling love. Love is an “acquired taste,” and most of humanity has not gone through the cultural-imprinting to actually do any of that amorous acquisition.
Whether such strangers are mere hollowed-out husks of humanity is not something that would ever have been asked in an academic setting – but a close scrutiny of the inhabitants of any big city would one yield one conclusion: most entities are mere “rough drafts” of human beings. Other people are not mentally “fleshed out.” They are pretending to be Homo sapiens by trying to persuade you that they are feeling what you feel.
Think of other people as mere “rehearsals” of the human species. Close to being actual humankind, but not quite there yet. Still missing something. Strangers are incapable of processing the same emotional range as you. Other people might emulate, but they cannot emote.
Love is a cultural construct – but in most ethno-systems, romance does not exist because it is not fabricated by the cultural ethos.
Love is just a sort of cultural stage-show. A lover is just performing a social role, but players from alien cultures will not have the right script. Physical affection is just a form of acting – and those thespians from distant venues may not know how to give believable performances on stage. There is a reason why pornography is so important in Western society – sex is a sort of theatrical expression – whether on done on video by paid professionals or done on a cellphone camera by enthusiastic amateurs, eroticism is merely a sort of drama. Intimacy is an act that you perform in order to pass as a human being. Think of romance as a spectacle that you must perform in order to be accepted as a normal human being in Western society
If someone from another culture might claim to have feelings for you, then the foreigner is just pretending in order to get something out of you. After all, those sentiments do not exist in the alien’s original worldview, so whatever he might express in the new world will be completely insincere. An outsider always tries to put something over on you. A stranger’s sentiments will always cost you.
When someone from your own culture claims to feel affection for you, that suitor is just expressing social expectations – rather than experiencing any passion for you as a particular person. When your all friends expect you to be in some romantic relationship, you oblige by coming up with proper romantic sentiments – the object of such sentiments is of no particular importance, and the intensity of your romantic sentiments is of no consequence. It is societal expectation that creates the affair. A public display of affection is just a way of acknowledging the social construction of adoration. Romance is just the ultimate expression of group conformity. Love is just a socially-correct form of self-delusion.
I once believed in love, but I have come to the realization that emotions are just there to entrap you. I would have resisted the idea that romance is an undesirable thing until I noticed a pattern in romance: every woman’s expression of affection is accompanied by a request for resources. Her matrimonial emotions and her material expectations always came in tandem. Her cocksucking is only performed to ensure your compliance. She brings you to orgasm just to confirm your obedience.
No emotions are genuine, but some feelings are more convincing than others. All romance is a sort of dramatic performance, but persuasive only to the most gullible among us.
Your sweetheart is only there in order to make sure that you remain properly socialized. If some gal says that she loves you, you can never entirely believe the girl. Falling in love is how you are manipulated by the social organism. If you ever are unlucky enough to be around someone who “has feelings for you,” my best advice is to get away quick.
