223 karma · joined March 9, 2018
So every day, you gather what you can find, and you carry it to the pile. The pile is a never ceasing fire, burning in a mile high chimney, errected in competitions among tribes. Its hard to ignore- all those walking towards the firestorm, carrying sacrifices- once the sunrise and sunset mass orgasm subsides.
Maybe you found coal, you have talent, you are worthy, you can feel the burning envy of the others. The one left to you, carries some brushes, the one right to you carries a struggling fat deer. Oh, how it will burn, oh the joys.
All of you have the mycelium behind your eyes- that spark never to cease. At the distance, some youths howl insults at the caravan, not strong enough to carry yet, dismissing the joys of the front row out of jealousy. They will find something, find their place, they will wake up to the joy, carrying some dehydrated, light husk to the pillar of awe. Even now they are hiding some candle or torch.
You slough towards the heat, some sweating the ash off, some collapsing, even in spasms- the eye on the inferno and its priests. Some are deprived off the joy, to deliver coolant, to maintain roads or shovell ashes. The joyless, you pity them- you hit them if they come between you and the pyre. Then the orange fills the world, joy is you, and you dance, forward, backward. Foam is on your mouth. Till you collapse from your body giving way. A Joyless carries you home, some lonely replaceable hole, in a well organized dessert, a empty cave in the anthill on a empty plain - where you, where you all sleep. For tomorrow, before dusk you will rise.
You will walk out into the inferno- telling yourself, that you are pure. One of the lucky few, to be burned away, for another day. You are the burning men. You always wanted this.
This whole narrative gets more implaussible by the day, the more you look at it. And by defending it, and not trying to look for the real issues, those who push it - further the only counter-quack-narrative, which is basically racism.
It sounds like the rambling of a homeless men by now, inventing invisible foes to justify all bad and random events happening to him.
Just explain to me the game theory plus of a main-street battle, where the bad guy already holds you at gun point- and you have the chance to accelerate towards the bitter end?
Imagine a bunch of hunte/gatherers, who just entered a new continent (like north-america)- having those loonies orbiting the group, reporting new ressources, scouting ahead- sounds well adapted.
What we would declare a psychotic killer, is perfectly adaptet to a humanity locked into a state of constant strife. In such a world, actually not beeing a psychotic killer is "mentally sick" as in - bad adapted to the circumstances. As with all adaptions to circumstances, one trys to keep the circumstances optimal for ones own adaption. Meaning, someone adaptet to strife, will try to keep the environment stable, preventing the return of peacefull times- where they must subsist on institutional cruelty and torturing animals. Humanity is legacy hardware.
All those people started with some other skill, be it at organizing or detecting opportunitys, or even technical- and its now sits barren.
It also was very pessimistic on technocratic solutions for the "good nurture" problem. Basically nothing can replace a real parent coaxing a self-expanding mind into beeing.
Look at people who do not have one in there elder years. Look at them driving around dogs in buggys, dressing them up like replacement toddlers, look at those faces, tell me that they are truely happy.
In the coldwar days, there where a lot of people who argued in a similar line- club of rome, end of days, and so they went and got a vasectomy. Which you can not easily reverse.
Result: Lots of sad faces, late stage in life. Sometimes logic doesent cut it, and this is one of those moments - dont break the chain of life, daughter/son - is one of this moments.
I dont encourage you to have many kids- one or two should do. But yes, having a navel, that links all the way to the first mamal, and see that history continue, something of one beeing immortal, learning to walk and talk - that is awesome.
Now add to that a field of experts, fused together by a lethal threat to their profession (lawsuits with expenses for life if you do damage) - forming a Wagonfort - and you get the perfect mess.