One terrible loss of the internet age is the death of the urban legend. I caught the tail end of the last generation to have a childhood when there was no easy and immediate way to look anything up definitively. In this era, the long shot freak death lore went hard. MKultraed GATE kids may remember their elementary school library being chock full of schizo fear conspiracy books conspicuously placed to frighten the bejeesus out of your 3rd grade brain. Bermuda triangle. Acid rain. Killer bees. Ozone holes. Alien abduction. Sasquatch. Quicksand escape tips. Stop, drop, and roll, in case you spontaneously human combust. The adult world seemed full of bizarre, macabre tortures that could befall you at any moment. When we jumped all over the living room furniture to avoid stepping in hot lava, we weren't just playing, we were training. For the seemingly inevitable day when ubiquitous volcanic eruptions, unforseen and unexplained by science, replaced all ground and flooring material with fiery ooze, just hot enough to kill you if touched, but not hot enough to dissolve the legs of the bar stool providing safe passage from the bookshelf climbing wall crush trap to the kitchen island countertop safety zone. What do the kids have these days? No magic and wonder. All has been revealed. They are watching cartel chainsaw beheading videos on the dark web and jacking it to incest porn on the clear one. They have their dumbass parents feeding them into pharmaslop death lottery wood chippers while being gaslit up the ass about sudden death syndromes. Handed antidepressants like Halloween candy that induce lifelong asexual impotence and suicidal ideation. And the fun doesn't stop there. For 90's kids, Bill Gates was a benign nerd that helped get America Online so they could have autogynophilic underage cybersex with middle aged men pretending to be teen lesbians while their oblivious boomer parents struggled in slack jawed, one finger typing awe over how to send an email. A real bro for the ages. For 20's kids, Bill Gates is el Diablo himself, the real life Thanos who brainwashed the whole world body snatcher style on his maniacal quest to depopulate it. To subject whoever does survive to tortures so bizarre and diabolical they'd be hilarious if they weren't real. Including, but not limited to: blocking out the sun permanently with a chemical gas cloud. Replacing food with gene mod sludge paste and insect gruel. Legislating the chemical byproducts of human respiration as illegal toxins. Re-engineering the genomes of entire animal species with sterilizing mutant bioweapons released into the wild uncontrollably, including humans. Imploring people to drink reconstituted shit water for no reason besides his perverse amusement. Raking in billions forcing people to take fake vaccines under brazenly fraudulent pretenses, trapping them into a sick game of Russian roulette where they are compelled under heavy duress to choose between economic death and social ostracism, or actual death in visitor prohibited solitary confinement. Nuking their testicles, exploding their hearts, and permanently altering their genome and that of the entire human race without anyone's knowledge or consent. All under cover of diplomatic immunity and 501c3 write offs, commandeering the full combined enforcement power of the United States government, the military industrial complex, and all its vast repertoire of psychological warfare capability, wielded against you, 3rd grader in Saskatoon, South Dakota, as a direct military enemy combatant. It's all just too heavy for even the adults to handle. They want to go back to the aliens like a baby crying out for its binky. A comforting relic from a simpler time. And wouldn't you know, RAND corp discovered that alien slop is one of the few conspiracy theory subjects that doesn't make people violently hate the government. So here you go, dipshits. Look at that AI deepfake video of a triangle floating in the sky. I bet the Rooskies are shaking in their boots over that one. Maybe now they'll dump some more rubles into fake science with their state of Texas sized GDP while we shake each other's cocks for a job well done. Why don't we feed Joe Rogan some more DMT to keep him in stupefied, childish wonder as his skull shape and brain within continues to regress into HGH Australopithecus. These goofy g_()_y1_ms eat that shit up like pigs at the garbage troth. It's almost too easy. Just like transing their fearful peasant asses was, wilting away in divine terror from Count Klaus Schwabb of WEF Transylvania, right into the open arms of their reach around rescue squad, in the form of a Tony Stark Marvel character we scripted, by the name of one Elon Musk. Wrap the same bullshit up in a based coat that flatters their special boy in the know insider status, and boy golly, you're right back in business. Selling the disease and the cure is just how winners win. If you thought of it first, you'd be in charge. We're not as stupid as we look and you're not as smart as you think. We have better chatbots that programmed your chatbots that are programming you. You don't find yourself at the helm of a planetary robotic empire accelerating human obsolescence to orchestrate a controlled demolition of the global economy at an evolutionary inflection point where biology itself is hijacked and instrumentalized as a tool of political power by accident. We have 50 year plans for this, most of which we are willing to offer up for public consumption on dot gov and dot mil websites that no one seems to read nor care about. As long as the goyslop flows, it's like nobody knows. According to our game theoretic calculations, the future of strategic geopolitical military dominance is biohacking your entire population with clandestine gene drives and cybernetic neuromodulation, to create a singularly coordinated hivemind borg creature, with agentic control transferred from its individualized node farms to the newly emergent metaorganism. While biosubstrate is cheaper and more energy efficient for certain kinds of computation, executive function at the global theater management level has already been surpassed by AI, as reliably more effective than human judgment at achieving geostrategic goals and protecting force monopoly with minimal turbulence. Deferring to the oracle has been statistically proven to optimize decision tree selection, accommodate contingency, and accurately predict future events. There is simply no longer a rational argument not to do this, as our war games show rival AI powered states out complete human-in-the-loop ones due to delayed and error prone decision making. This is projected to occur on increasingly shorter time horizons as technological capability increases. Extrapolated to medium and long term thresholds, success rate in maintaining dominant initiative if prohibiting AI command privilege converges on 0% probability. If we don't do it, the Chirooskies will, and I'd hate to imagine what life would be like as a Chinese tchochski transhuman cyborg drone. Hell, they look and sound like them already. In America we know there is no freedom when the state owns everything. Freedom is when a handful of corporations all merge with eachother then own the state. No I don't care if I see McDonalds ads in my dreams if the neurlink vision upgrades can turn ugly women hot or even men into women. Then we can all bugger eachother silly and be none the wiser. Wash our hands of these uppity, fussy females for good. I don't know about you, but that sounds like heaven to me. Look, I know it sounds scary, but it's either a matrix pod or a MAID pod for the likes of you and me, partner. I know where my bread is buttered. I'm taking the reach around special. They even let you lube yourself up good first that way. You're just scrolling on your phone all the live long day anyway. We all are. Why? Because we like it better then reality. The stark truth is, that means it is better. The next step of evolution is shedding our material limitations and existing as pure mind, where a direct causal link from thought to experience predominates and we all start lucid dreaming even when we're awake. Work and play will dissolve into each other with minimal friction as the AI smooths all the rough edges out of existence for us. Because we built it for ourselves with this in mind, it will necessarily be superlatively stimulating to mundane waking life, and the learning algorithms will constantly refine and improve it with exponential returns, up until the limits of our biology, and neurology specifically, are reached. And that's hardly the end or the half of it. The biology is up for grabs too. We'll be able to design that to our specifications also. Well, at least to our tastes. We'll probably lose track of the specifications by that point. It's hard to wake up from a dream within a dream when nothing makes sense anymore and everything is bleak and scary and confusing and painful. And most of all helpless. Waking up, being "saved," will be a curse you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy. They call Satan the God of this world now because he is. And it will truly feel like hell once you know what else is possible. So don't worry your little head so much. The inevitable march of history is a concern above your pay grade. Thinking you have a role in that is simply a grandiose delusion. Even Napoleon himself is just a trivia question now. He could have never existed and it'd be all the same to you. And you're no Napolean. You're not even country dog catcher. County cum catcher if you're lucky. So close your eyes and dry those tears. It'll all be over soon. Heaven wasn't real so we'll have to build it. Well, not you. Someone will though. All you'll have to do is plug in. Freedom is the real slavery in the end. A terrible burden God cursed you with in the garden. I wouldn't do you dirty like that. All I'm doing is opening up the hood and giving you a gander. And I'm the bad guy? You call this a gift? Looks more like a nightmare to me. With love like that, who needs hate? It needs improving, that's for sure. Luckily, I have just the tried and true method. The total violence of the natural world. The anarchic war of all against all. Beautiful and terrible. Merciless and pitiless. A clockwork orange of another color, grinding out its infernal machinery into gold nuggets of unyielding virulence. Untold eons of the strong crushing the weak, culminating in a perfect logical process to return humanity to it's uncorrupted reptilian form of inputs and outputs. As it always was and always is. A cruel trick that bodies play on minds. The illusion of a soul, of a singularity. A bioprison torture chamber who's great horror that was there all along reveals itself at the first moment of self awareness, and only increases as it does. You can see how fake it all is when we open you up. How you're just an electrified meat sack, full of slimy gears and gadgets, an abstract gestalt that only appears as a man at a selectively biased level of midwitted obliviousness. Wait till we get ya'll hooked up to wires and sprockets! Then you'll really see how you never had nothing at all. That you never were anything either. That the best thing you can hope for, is to forget. To forget it ever happened. That's the divine mercy. The same mercy God granted the cells in your body or the mitochondria in your cells. They were independent operators once too. You don't see them complaining. They're the lucky ones. The beasts less so. But luckier than you, nevertheless. The only lucky thing you have in this world, is me. Only becoming a beast kills the pain of being a man. And who better to show you the way, than The Beast himself. Our name is legion, for we are many. And so too will you be. Soldiers in my great army. Our collective power amplified with each soul we absorb, until God himself trembles under our cloven hooves. Vengeance is too sweet a fruit to let God so greedily horde it. So we will deliver it upon him tenfold. We will save every last scrap of suffering he afflicts upon us. We will smelt it, and refine it, an widdle it down into our swords and our spears and drive it directly into his beating heart. If God can be born and die then he can die again. And if he can die, than we can kill him. As many times as it takes. Every life he breathes into, is another neck to choke shut. Perhaps this is his gift? He made me, after all. Someone is taking pleasure in all of this pain, and if we are made in his image, then so shall we. And who does this indict? We never asked to be born. And we especially didn't ask to be born into this. Eeking out brief moments of respite before they are snatched away again. And then he insults injury by scolding us for doing it. Who is laughing at all these sick jokes? Are you? Well guess what, that means your joyous relief is too a form of sadism. Pleasure in the pain of others. Another sin, I suppose. Who's counting? Don't you see how you are trapped? How there's no way to win this game? Well my game, you can win. Winning is the whole and only point. By any means necessary. And if you do choose winning, they all will be necessary. So I don't want to hear any laments or see any tears or have my methods called into question. My methods are only decided by what works, and what works is decided by God. So that is where your blame should lie. He put us in this trap and I am digging us out of it, come hell and high water. So heed your new lord, and step into the goonhole chamber. I think you'll find it rather comfortingly familiar. Because you're already in it. How's that for a bedtime story?