Thursday, September 02, 2004

Welcome to New Sparta, My Friends!

(Note: this post was written by my good friend, Jason).

Oh, sure, you used to call yourselves Americans. You used to stand for liberty and pursuit of happiness and for the people and by the blah blah bah. (We all knew that was a little much, didn't we?) Well, at last we can breathe an exhausted sigh of relief. We can finally be honest. There is no saving grace, no human compassion or any of the whiny spectral optimism that tainted the language and the legacies of our "founding fathers". There is no Mother Planet, no Gaia, and there is no Noble Savage. There is only things. Things for the taking. Might makes Right, and Peace is only attained through Omnipresent Threat of the Destruction of Everything. No Mercy For The Weak. These things are as Right and as Solid as the dirt beneath our feet. As Real as jaws crunching flesh.

It is time to give up the baby-mewling. Time to lay your books and scythes on the ground and pick up your swords and your assault rifles. Time to stop teaching your children nursery rhymes of universal humanity and teach them strategic placement of land mines.

Evolution has ended, Ladies and Gentleman, and we have been deluding ourselves in believing in some Dream Country, some Idealized World. Evolution has ended and we have been it's ultimate beneficiaries. We now control it. Broke it like a horse and ran nanotechnology through it's skeleton and now we guide it. And because we now control the future and the present we will soon control the past. And we will bend it and shape it, melt it and dilute it and forge it into a perfect genealogy of Power, leading up to the inevitable, unstoppable juggernaut that is US.

Rejoice, brothers and sisters, and lay your lives down at the feet of our Masters. Because we are only worthy of sacrifice to our Gods, and our Gods are Men. Men that are better than us. Men that have the necessary tools to lead-- and only one tool is necessary to win, at any rate. Poor, doomed Mr. Kurtz knew it. It is only Will.

These Men of Will, our mighty hydra of flesh that we will now call El Shaddai, after our prototype, shall lead us through a crucible of blood that will end in our beautiful martyrdom, not for some dream of a fool's Heaven, or a fanciful Afterlife, but for US. For Victory over History. For Our Kind. Put down your faces, my people, we are the New Pawns. We are the New Spartans. Our face is an obdurate mask of Will. We are a phalanx, marching toward Dominion over All. And our Masters will feed on our sweat and on the livers of the conquered and we will be watch, happily, basking in Their presence as They eat the World.

And We the legs that move Them.

Welcome to New Sparta, Ladies and Gentlemen. Prepare to give your lives.



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