Hello from sunny California! It’s Geoff just popping in to lob a firebomb of an article and who knows what’s next—maybe a disgruntled cat. Sorry, if you’re a particular someone this is not that article. I’m dealing with a backlog and I originally planned to draw a cover image but I haven’t been feeling it lately so I capitulated and went with this portrait. My artistic vision will never be realized just like the dream of Martin Luther King…RIP. After that unnecessarily harsh but on topic joke I may as well start.
How’s Activism Doing These Days?
Trash. Total and complete trash. That’s my theory. There’s nothing noble in stripping oneself naked in the open air of the square and asking that everyone else join you. That’s not a reasonable expectation of people. Plus it’s not interesting. No one needs your troubles. Why tell this when you could tell so much? Why is your brain so boring?
People need a source of life and activism’s a plug.
I feel excitement when something’s exciting. I’m motivated when it deserves it. I give my love to lovers. I dream of writing wonders of weight. With all that in consideration I know activism is trash. If I were a totalitarian I’d light social causes on fire and put them in the garbage because suicides are on the rise in direct result of their indignity.
There’s a darker psychological pattern working behind the curtain.
Go ahead and read the full report, the entire testimony, the whole confession of a person full to the brim of this lowly thing, dive into the heart of darkness. Good luck. It’s a void, entirely null, a vacuum that sucks your soul. I’m sorry if it doesn’t appear that way to you. That’s just the fine print. Zoom yourself out and watch how they speak, interact and live.
I’ll be as liberal as can be; I flew off the hook in my privacy but I’ve been regathered and am ready to make a mockery of you rather than me.
A Cautionary Painting
I’ve seen the glee with which these people set aside their plate of ribs and wipe their sausage fingers with a napkin before scooching forward from their lard filled recline to begin their duties as witch doctor and plague bearer for the forces of empire. This war is unholy; in the name of no god and enacted by the divine right of oppression. They don’t respect the autonomy of people. I can feel myself being drained just for intellectually opening myself to their soul sucking pet. I’ve been trained to handle this and it’s still difficult.
We’re dealing with ordained individuals that are well fed and collared to such a degree that their ability for self awareness has withered away and they’ve lost the conception of freedom. They’ve chosen to be psychic prisoners and their job is to talk others into putting on the collar but I will not be doing that because I enjoy the practice of living within grace.
I would like to be perfectly free and use all kinds of coarse language and sailor talk, but alas, grace is a gentrified sort of freedom that preserves the social foundation by curtailing the tongue but allowing the mind it’s personal opinions and beliefs. The forces of destruction within a gentlemen are routed against the rocks and left for the bed of his lady. I’ll be sure to spare you the edge of my blade but I’ll be making something of the gory details, with her, a bit later.
There is a reality before our eyeballs that the brain will only process if the veil of ideology has been pierced. Who is this person before us and why are they so glad to hold the beliefs and to present the page and to covet the words that they speak? Who am I? Who is Geoffrey Bosserman?
Not one of them.
I work for nothing and I get paid nothing and I am sworn to no one and I am a poor poor man. I am but a ward of my fathers and the worry of my mothers. If you were to meet me you would see the bend in my back imparted onto me by the weight of this evil and the dark in my eyes from my battle against it. While many live in bliss I have fallen into the depths of hell because I’m the fool who spars with an opponent that doesn’t play fair and I do not armor myself properly before entering into battle.
I am only a measly nerd with a love for liberal ideals and I have been torn asunder for an ideal is not truth. The activist and radical pursuit of equality and justice for all is beyond the pale and has flown, full on, into mental tyranny that liberal daisies aren’t capable of resisting because we haven’t inoculated them against it. They’re being enslaved. These means make a world of darkness no matter the justification. They can’t even argue for themselves. They’re too nice or stupid or eager, or something, empathetic maybe or naive. But most likely scared that if they voice their qualms they’ll get bit and die.
Most people are terribly meek and easily threatened and often manipulated. Guilt, low self esteem, loneliness, cultural blankness…all perfectly good reasons to just give it up. What’s being lost? We’ve already lost our worth.
What is a parasite?
Ideology is not just an ideology, there is a shadow that follows it; the parasite. How can ideology explain ideology? The parasite is real. I was full of it for years of my life. The parasite weighs on us, it steals from us, it kills. It’s hard to be happy when your body is burdened. Inside us lives something that shouldn’t be inside us. We lose everything because of it. Our will. Our love. Our beauty. Our hope. Our ability to help.
It’s symptoms don’t immediately appear. Your doctor might not even be able to figure out what the problem is. Parasites are dangerous. Parasites lead to loss of life. Live with them for a year and find out. Live with them for a decade and you’ll die. Live with them for a century and the world is gone. The parasite is what cuts us off from God and leaves us, baking in the sun, to die.
Where is the means of self determination, of personal understanding, of celebration, of respect and dignity for oneself and others when the parasite has infected us? It’s possible for some to find a means of relating beauty with such a load on their shoulders but for most it’s too hard to bear. They just end up as clubfooted oafs that scrape and scuff their way through life because they never found their way to becoming an emotionally and spiritually developed adult; a person that can live wide awake who takes in everything before them then sends back their love. If we could wish it we’d have it; we’d float on the surface of a tropical sea with our heart strewn out over it like an oil slick of syrupy lifeblood for the winged fish and flippered birds to nip at.
Sadly, some people decide to lecture, shame and enforce peace and love in a practice of profoundly misguided paradox. Does the Dalai Lama ever bite or have to give a power point lecture? No. He walks, hopefully, in love. I hope I’m not overselling him. He might be mediocre like the rest of the activists.
Who benefits?
The blind. Those who feast upon the gains won by the practice of infecting and destroying their fellow man. The warrior souls do it for their own. They spill blood to give riches to their kin. In their eyes they’ve killed not for selfish reason; they’ve killed to right wrongs and save lives and to bring justice to an unjust place. The activist lays the bricks of the road on which the oppressed peoples will walk to the material wealth they’ve been denied.
They do it for the photographers and barbers, the school teachers and salesman. All those who could never dare to impose themselves on others. The activists do what ordinary people are too polite to and the ordinary people may or may not be comfortable knowing or even support what’s being done in their name.
What’s the first world equivalent of blood diamonds? …Welfare?
(Jesus Christ, I kinda regret typing that. I just don’t want to enable any sort Marxist funny business because I know they were all thinking about capital.)
The parasite is a tool of warfare like any other and it must be treated as such. We know what bullets do to the body. We know what shelling does to the mind. This is what the parasite does to the spirit. The world is getting better because it is, after all, a subtler killer than the brute tools of yore but we must progress beyond it too because it’s the next hurdle. Peace abounds when we set down our arms and live together. There are many among us today who have already done such and they’re waiting for us.
“I only ask that you tear mine out before it begins to kill you. I cannot live for you. I cannot think for you. I cannot rule over you. I don’t care about you.”
- Geoffrey Bosserman
The Hairball That’ll Kill This Cat
Humans exist within a rat race and there are two conditions we find ourselves in within this rat race:
Improving your material status
Depression
Sometimes those happen at the same time if you’re really special. The mind is a fickle animal that wants us to be getting somewhere. Improvement is both selfish and selfless because both of those effect status. Don’t you know that people who get underpaid and overworked get depressed? Don’t you know that people who aren’t appreciated and respected for how much they do get depressed? You might think I’m talking about poor blackie or rich whitie but I’m talking about everyone.
I don’t have to imagine the people paid 70,000 dollars a year to preach to people (even if it’s more like 35 it’s still a joke). I know what I’d be if I were them; laughing. I get to suck everyone’s blood and you’re going to pay me for it!? When those people get the call that they’re hired they jump and scream like any contestant would. They call the girls and they go out for drinks and they start shaking their booty, GET IT GIRL! GET IT! Grinding on all the men’s pants because they’re winning this race.
That’s all I want. I want us to be honest about the conditions of the game that is playing out before us. People don’t want it to be as hard as it is to get ahead because they’d like to be ahead. But the issue is that there are a lot of people on this planet that can’t even comprehend what it takes to get ahead so the ideologies are glazing over a very complicated situation and convincing people of things that aren’t real and aren’t possible. Jobs have to get done, customers have to get satisfied, revenue has to surpass expense.
Activists look at the data and the data sees it’s not working out, the minorities are still poor and America’s still losing manufacturing, so then they leap straight to, “It’s their fault.” They do it with a lot of history and finger pointing but you have to realize that this is all business negotiations in a world of business. We don’t get to think like we’re in utopia or that utopia can be made. Everyone shrugs them off when they ask for donations or charity. They’re not making up all that difference so they’re getting into the businesses and changing the rules of engagement in favor of whomever.
Long gone are the days of civility apparently. We’re just in straight up economic warfare now. Breaking news: Ben and Jerry’s pulls it’s troops out of Israel.
Don’t Do Me Dirty
Activists are pretzel twisters; very very sure in their heads and convicted in their hearts of an issue they want to make the center of our attention.
What is cross race dialogue? How does a race talk to a race? You’ve got some big ideas but I’m not sure about the execution. Nothing you say is ever gonna make me cry. You don’t speak from the heart or on personal grounds.
“Look here my people, gather round, join in with me and we’ll take on those other people. We have to crack them open and break them down. Keep them talking and get them paying. We get them following the steps of our dance and we’ll make it to the promised land.”
Examine me all you want and I’ll examine you right back. Why are you sticking your nose up my butt? I don’t consent to you analyzing me how you choose. I want you to analyze me as a person that doesn’t like you. Figure that out.
You’re a marketer that’s taken on words that are marketable. Don’t you know what it takes to get yourself ahead and you’re cleaving your career path.
“We’re gonna get our wedge jammed in the door whether it takes a sledgehammer, some lube or an entire demolition crew. Any way about it we’re getting somewhere.”
This is a material relation between we and you. Speak to me spiritually and I might drop my pants for you. I’ll marry a big black mama and I’ll love her good all the days until she’s in the grave because it pleases me but I’ll never save the black race.
They present a patch of mud and order me to cover myself in it. I must understand my experiences within the frame of whiteness. I can’t be free. I must imprison myself. Here’s the steps by which the monkeys dance. Apologize with earnestness and grovel with heart.
Getting things done takes getting dirty. Are you willing to pay?
Woe is me because the jig is up. I betrayed my own and handed them the key. All you have to do is sell your soul to me. Slavery broke us apart and lovemaking will mend our heart. You swear off the black stallions and I’ll wash my hands of the Asians and we’ll make bacon—swines of the future generations. They won’t even read books anymore after our divorce.
Audiences never asked for a sex scene like this.
You have to be careful because this is a dangerous game. The further you insist on material things the more the “white consciousness” will rear it’s head where indifference once stood. Interbreeding is no solution; that’ll just propagate more material confusion. These neurons need to get past the intersections and put two and two together, just this once. Let four be four.
It’s not healthy to be overly critical or analytical. Take some time off.
Most people are private individuals. There’s no dialogue to be made. They don’t consent. They have wives, lives and children and their plate’s all full. Plus you can’t have the conversation without them because if it’s without them it’s behind their back by default. You have to be able to find the terms of negotiation and those are something like; business deals and parties and private gatherings and hang outs and going out for drinks.
Everything the moderate democrats are already doing.
Some people will never do the public facing bullshit and they’ll never submit themselves to it. Instead they’ll just rubber stamp the politicians that keep the shysters locked up, the questions off their back and the road ahead clear for their passing. You’re not getting to them. Ever. And it’s not an option to kill them or steal from them or push them too far with the legislation and regulations. We’re in the game and it’s progressing.
Any faster than this and it snaps. The hand bites back.
We’re all going to be poor in a few generations time and dying off from starvation so I wouldn’t be worried about the racial disparities. We all bottom out in the dirt. You’re asking people clinging on for dear life to take some time to save the walking dead. There’s a material reality for you that can’t bite back. The homeless can’t touch us. They’re fucked. What is this white fragility? All I see is human frailty—we’re afraid of death.
So afraid are we that we might just take to killing each other.
But long before that everyone will be reduced to criminality, vigilante-ism, personal security, cultural disengagement… just about everything that signals the total and complete unraveling of society. The anarchists are pissing themselves with excitement. Oh goody! I’ve been studying for this. I’ll get an A on that paper without even breaking a sweat. Maybe I’ll be top dog since I’m so well read.
Get Me Out of Here—No One’s Read Anything
And those who have have the most terrible taste.
Now that we know what’s being fought over and how it will be carried out I’m free to lay down my main claims in Part 2. This was only the set dressing that gets the crowd riled up and ready for some blood because, I hope, I did what was necessary to catch the attention and engage the mind in lively debate.
The parasite bit reminds me of Andrew Ryan from Bioshock who is based on the work of Ayn Rand. Perhaps reading some Jordan Peterson or listening James Lindsay's podcast will help give you perspective.