Cracking the Shell of a Dead Future

The world’s richest autist conversed with the world’s most vilified conspiracy theorist, and articulated a superior alternative to the Great Reset.

Our species is in the midst of a grand juncture, a great fork in the timeline. The global system, so implacable and solid just a few years ago, is destabilizing. A growing chaos oscillates through its superstructure. The chaos cannot last forever; eventually, the system must settle into a new equilibrium. There will be a phase transition. The only question is to what.

For years now the barons of high finance that sit like a rheumy eye atop the pyramid of NGOs and multinational conglomerates have presented the future as something certain, fixed, and inevitable. Anthropogenic climate change will melt the ice caps, drown the coasts, dessicate the farmlands. The hydrocarbons boiling the air are nearly tapped out, the mineral wealth of the Earth nearly exhausted; one way or the other, the bulk of humanity is doomed to energy and material poverty, a campesino existence scratching a meagre life out of the unforgiving and poisoned soil, strictly delimited by resource scarcity, travel beyond one’s commune a thing of the past, the only question being just how intolerable Mother Earth’s dried out womb will become. Perhaps the worst of the climatic breakdown can be averted, if we restrict our energy usage now; maybe the Malthusian crash of the overpopulated human herd can be softened, if we voluntarily depress the birth rate by foregoing children.

For those presenting this vision, it is an inspiring one. They will rule over mankind as Kalergi’s ‘aristocracy of the mind’, unchallenged behind electronic walls of progammable central bank digital currencies, LLM censorship, tracking chips, and visual recognition system surveillance, every need that cannot be met by robots fulfilled by a drastically reduced human population of servitors rendered docile by plant-based malnutrition, medication, and genetic tinkering, their every word, thought, and social interaction carefully curated from birth, such that even the smallest defiance is barely thinkable, with whatever deviance somehow leaks through the biospsychosocial conditioning swiftly corrected by the ever-present algorithm.

For the 99.9999% of the human species destined in this scenario either for liquidation or servitude, this future is repulsive. It isn’t simply the utilitarian monstrosity of humanity’s future being one of endless immiseration. The soporific language of the globalist wormtongues notwithstanding, we all know their objectives have nothing to do with the greatest good for the greatest number. Even if they were sincere, their utilitarian logic generates the Repugnant Conclusion: that the cumulative marginal happiness of trillions of future humans living desperate lives unfit for animals outweighs the much greater average individual happiness of a much smaller number of humans living according to a much less “sustainable” lifestyle for a much shorter historical period. Better by far that the human species make the choice of Achilles. We are not here merely to persist.

But the utilitarianism of the Malthusians is mere camouflage. Their true goals are entirely obvious: to centralize control of the Earth’s bounty in their grasping little hands, while harnessing the divine genius of the human species to their vulgar little ends. They seek biological immortality, so that they can think their little thoughts and pursue their little pleasures for the rest of time, without ever having to answer to the Creator for their sins against creation.

If you want to imagine the future, imagine Bill Gates’ mipples poking out of his pink sweatervest, forever.

It is tawdry and low.

It is utterly unbefitting of the cosmos-altering potential of our race, an infra dig conclusion to a species imbued with the Imago Dei.

Yet we have not been able to see a way out of this future.

Their control is too complete.

They own the banks, the corporations, the media, the academies, the scientific research institutes, the governments, the non-governmental organizations. They control currency, information, and armed force. Move against one tentacle of the vampire squid and you are assaulted by a hundred others. Their control system wraps the Earth like a choking vine; worse, the very presence of this poisonous plant is invisible to all save a few, for it secretes a sweet narcotic sap that renders it invisible to those who imbibe it, who become simultaneously addicted to the drug and insensible to the great mass of vegetation from which it seeps.

This leads to a fatalistic despair among those few who can see the encroaching darkness, and perceive within it some semblance of the powers and principalities pulling us into the Dungeon Timeline. Resistance seems futile, when the overwhelming majority cannot see, will not see, what is happening. One becomes a guerrilla in the digital jungles, hiding one’s power level from friends and family, waging a hopeless insurgency with meme and shitpoast from behind a flimsy mask of anonymity, as all the while the vine wraps ever more tightly about one’s life in the real world.

That is how it has felt to be a dissident for many, many years now.

That’s started to change, recently.

The vibe has shifted.

Somehow, things don’t seem quite so dark anymore.

It’s a subtle thing, for now.

Maybe a year ago, it started seeming as though the dynamic between the corporate propaganda media and the scrappy barbarians of the independent, alt-media infosphere had changed its basic character. Before, the regime press had driven the news cycle, with the alt-media playing catch-up, scrambling after every new story to expose the manipulations and deceptions. The OODA loop of the networked alt-media was much faster than the clumsy command-and-control architecture of the legacy press, meaning that as often as not it was able to outmanoeuvre the lumbering corporate dinosaurs, but the sheer scale of the corporate media, its ability to shout its message with one voice and shake the world with its thunderous volume, was a powerful advantage.

And then, quietly, imperceptibly, like a tide going out, their positions reversed. The regime media started having to respond to the independent media, addressing ‘misinformation’ and preemptively deboonking conspiracy theories. The independent media, in other words, was increasingly driving the news cycle. It was taking the initiative. It was deciding what the conversation would be about, what the focus of collective attention would be. The regime’s propaganda organs were having to react to the narrative framing chosen by the hive mind. And they were doing so with all the grace and elegance one would expect from an exhausted, overgrown sauropod.

I noticed, too, in my personal life, a new hesitance amongst the NPCs. Previously so full of vengeful fanaticism, they often now seemed apologetic. They started to preface their talking points with, “I don’t want to sound ‘woke’, but....” as though expecting pushback. Which they were right to expect, and the pushback was now coming without the once obligatory “I don’t want to sound racist, but....”

The lockdowns almost certainly provided part of the impetus for the vibe shift. The endless, contradictory fear-mongering, the abrupt narrative reversals, the comically absurd tyranny of mandates and restrictions, the relentless censorship, shocked a lot of people out of their complacency. Their world suddenly ceased making sense. Sources of information they’d trusted their entire lives were no longer reliable. The lies became too obvious.

The health freedom movement born in the heart of the scamdemic added millions of new souls to the dissident network that had already grown up around opposition to mass replacement migration, race communism, gender theology, and feminism. Former normies startled into the first blossoming of awareness began to connect the dots, seeing that the ideologies and policies that they’d been taught were The Right Side of the Inevitable Arc of History were all weaponized implements in the liver-spotted hands of the same cackling gerontocrats that were now lunging at them with needles full of experimental science juice which they claimed would protect them from a virus with a 99.99% survival rate (to no one’s surprise, the gene therapies didn’t work).

This alliance of convenience between the health freedom movement and right-wing dissidents is the kernel of truth behind the regime’s hysterical screeching that the Canadian trucker convoy1 were all transphobic racists. It’s obvious silliness to suggest that everyone who wants control over what goes into their bloodstreams is motivated by hatred of the blacks, but then it’s also absurd to suggest that the people who want the right to free speech to be respected are the real fascists, or that people who want to control their country’s borders in the interests of the people who live inside those borders are Nazis2. Underneath all the scare words, the apparatchiks are pointing to something real: the various strains of opposition to the regime, its policies, its ideologies, and its hegemonic world-picture of a godless, mechanical cosmos, are weaving together into a single, chaotic, and increasingly potent opposition.

[...]

That’s the contrast, in a nutshell. The Malthusians, extinctionists, globalists, [small group of people who actually run the world,] call them what you will, want to cull the human herd dramatically, reduce the survivors to the level of favela-dwellers, and hoard the Earth’s resources for themselves as they lock humanity up on a planet that has become a torture chamber and a prison cell, rather than a womb.

The pro-humans, as Musk refers to us, want our species to liberate itself, to expand out into the cosmos, turning barren worlds into gardens, converting the dead rubble of asteroids into shining metropoli.

One side wants us to stop having babies, satisfying ourselves with sterile situationships, porn addictions, AI girlfriends, and furbabies.

The other side wants you to sit around the Thanksgiving table, surrounded by so many grandchildren you have trouble keeping their names straight.

One side wants you to be weak, sick, and depressed.

The other side wants you to be filled to overflowing with the vital energy of Creation.

One side wants you to be ignorant and stupid, thinking only the approved thoughts, saying only the approved words, your consciousness a disorganized rat’s nest of discordant contradictions and mandatory lies that slowly undoes the bindings of your soul.

The other side wants you to know truth, and to find truth yourself, in open and unfettered intellectual intercourse with the rest of the species as we sort through the mass of data streaming in from the universe of which we’re the eyes and hands.

[...]

It’s not much of a choice.

Which, of course, is why the Lords of Lies have been so intent on preventing our species from even realizing that we had that choice.

I think Musk realized some years ago, likely during COVID, that his dream of a multiplanetary humanity was incompatible with the goals of the globalists. Previously, the world’s most successful African-American had been happy to work within the parameters of the global system, assuming everyone involved was doing their best to better the lot of humanity, that his life’s project was compatible with the professed aims of the WEF and their ilk. After all, their propaganda videos always depicted manned exploration of Mars as an element in their zero-emission, cricket-protein, plant-based, smoke-free, renter-and-rentier society future.

But they have no intention of allowing humanity to escape the Earth. A perpetual parasitic social order premised on a global control grid is not consistent with interplanetary colonies. Control cannot be maintained over interplanetary distances, with communications times measured in hours rather than microseconds, and travel times of months or years rather than hours. Isolated by the speed of light and the limitations of specific impulse and delta-vee, settlements in the deep black would start to develop dangerously independent identities. Ships, commerce, communications, would all become impossible to track. A new breed of barbarians would spawn in the outer darkness, men with minds as hard and sharp as primordial cometary ice, and as the imperial centre slowly rotted under the weight of its own dysgenics, hallucinatory ideological psychosis, and sclerotic societal stasis, the barbarian horde would form again, and the parasitic order’s comfortable little planetary rape toy would get popped like a cyst.

So, no, of course they would never allow this. And this should have been obvious from their own actions. For fifty years, they have starved space of funding. We went to the Moon, and then turned our backs, seeming to lose our collective nerve as we stood on the edge of the infinite. But I do not think we simply lost our nerve. National budgets were spent instead on war, and to a much greater degree on social entitlements. America squandered its wealth on dem programs in the inner cities, because after all,

A rat done bit my sister Nell.

(with Whitey on the moon)

Her face and arms began to swell.

(and Whitey's on the moon)

I can't pay no doctor bill.

(but Whitey's on the moon)

Ten years from now I'll be payin' still.

(while Whitey's on the moon)

Europe, not having a racial underclass on which to lavish its largesse, imported one. A recent study has demonstrated that over the last 25 years the Netherlands has spent about €400 billion on feeding, housing, and providing medical care for migrants and their families. With NASA’s annual budget of about $30 billion, the Dutch, small and insignificant as they are, could have afforded half a NASA all on their own. Assuming the rest of the EU has poured a proportionally similar amount of lucre down the migrant drain and scaling for GDP, Europe alone could have afforded a space program 10 times the size of NASA’s. So, it goes without saying, could the USA.

Had both the EU and the USA been spending $300 billion a year on space, we’d have cities on the Moon, bases on Mars, mining outposts on the Near Earth Asteroids, and exploratory missions orbiting Jupiter by now. There would be thousands, if not tens of thousands, of people living and working in space.

And yet we chose not to.

Which is to say, the overbred goblins scuttling about in the halls of power chose not to.

They chose not to because it did not suit them. Fostering a lumpenproletarianized racial underclass was what suited them. Resentful client groups with which to ethnically cleanse middle class populations from urban centres and exile them to the atomized social wasteland of the suburbs, to keep the productive tax cattle in a constant state of compliant nervous anxiety, to provide a useful whip with which to chastise the helots when they get out of line, and to demoralize them by demanding they worship their lessers.

They chose to loot, rather than to build.

To deceive, rather than to enlighten.

To poison, rather than to nurture.

But they were happy to let Elon build his rockets, to put up his satellites. After all, what is a prison grid without an orbital communications network beaming high-speed Internet to even the most remote corners of the globe? A prison needs watchtowers, after all.

But Elon, in the end, is not a fool. He grew up in South Africa. He’s seen first-hand the poisoned fruits of bioleninist race communism. South Africa used to have a space program. Now they can’t even keep the lights on. The mind virus corrodes civilization at the most basic level, destroying the ability of people to maintain it, to even want to maintain it. Wherever it takes hold, civilization starts to die. Institutional competence degrades steadily as merit is discarded in favour of race, sex, sexuality, and ideological compliance; demoralization wastes the potential of the talented, as they realize no amount of hard work or raw ability will overcome their disfavoured ancestry; educational rigour disintegrates under the pressure of racial admissions and retention quotas, even as the mind virus crowds out all other subjects to turn every classroom into a vector for its transmission and incubation. Like bankruptcy, collapse comes slowly, then suddenly. The ability of organizations to perform their core functions is lost as the cordyceps zombies infesting them redirect their priorities. One day, a critical point is reached, and the organization fails; those that rely on it totter, and the failures cascade through the system.

Welcome to the favela, where the stars your ancestors dreamed their descendants would visit are your only illumination at night, because no one knows how to keep the lights on anymore.

But at least you have social justice.

Musk, I think, sees this as clearly as so many of us do.

He realized that if our planetary egg is to hatch, if our destiny is not to be stillborn, it is not enough to build rockets with reusable stages. Such tools are necessary, but not sufficient.

First, the power of the dark lords holding humanity in bondage must be broken. The regime must be burned, its principal members cast down, its principles permanently discredited.

That’s why he bought Twitter.

It’s a new form of politics that Musk is playing. The conventional avenues are largely closed off. We saw that in 2020’s “fortified” election, but the problem is not limited to the United States. The remainder of the English-speaking world is, if anything, worse off. Election results do not even need to be falsified in Canada, the United Kingdom, Ireland, Australia, or New Zealand, because all of the parties are penetrated by the same criminal network. It doesn’t matter which party gets voted in, because every party will implement the same policies. Continental Europe is better off, with large and influential nationalist parties in almost every country; but these are largely kept in cheque by the GAE power that holds their gimp collars.

So Musk is simply bypassing them.

By controlling X, he liberates discourse on the world’s largest sentiment-engineering network from the control of the WEFite mafia. That isn’t to say it’s a free for all on the platform. As Musk has said several times, he believes in freedom of speech, but not freedom of reach. This was worrying for rightists when he first said it, as they expected that it meant a return to the old days of shadowbanning. But in practice this doesn’t seem to have happened. Instead, the bioleninist bullshit seems to propagate far less efficiently, now. It comes across my timeline far less frequently. I suspect the X algorithm is deliberately inhibiting transmission of the mind virus, as part of an electronic prophylaxis. Wokism always relied on a heavily tilted playing field. In an open arena, without the force of state power and private sector censorship behind it, it would never have gotten as far is it had, because it is not grounded in reality, and the most powerful rhetoric is always rooted in the truth. It’s a virtual law of the Internet that every unmediated space becomes a right-wing space in short order. By tilting the playing field ever so slightly in the other direction, the right gains an overwhelming discursive advantage, and the snap-back happens with the sudden and calamitous force of a hammer blow.

Meanwhile, Musk has been making himself extremely popular with the people. Before he even purchased Twitter, he started engaging with anons, retweeting or replying to their posts, boosting their message, sharing memes, always careful to maintain a casual tone, joking with deadly seriousness. He sees the great potential for information warfare of the centreless, networked hydra that has been born from the dissident disparate tribes, but he does not try to tame it or control it, for this is a fool’s errand; rather, he simply seeks to befriend it, to make it his ally in the psychic struggle for the shape of humanity’s future.

He has also showered the people with gifts more substantial than his goodwill. Community Notes has made it very difficult to lie on X; it has proven a source of great and ongoing embarrassment to the zampolit, and a source of great amusement to the people. Premium accounts that exceed a threshold in impressions now receive a share of the company’s revenues, and while the Muskbux are not more than beer money for most recipients, free beer is never unappreciated. Then there are the lawsuits. In August Musk promised to provide legal defence for users who had been punished for things they’d said on the platform, and he has followed through on this promise.

Like any good king, he offers largesse to his loyal subjects, protection to those who need it, and punishment to those who threaten and attack them.

And it has worked.

The people love him.

He has made the electronic hydra into his pet dragon.

By this he gains power greater than that held by any one state, greater than any international regulatory organization or advocacy group or activist NGO.

By letting the dragon out of its cage, the dragon gains the ability to decide elections. The last major election globalist forces were able to fortify was Brazil’s, when Bolsonaro was unseated by the communist Lula. That was a few weeks before Musk took control of Twitter. And recently? Milei, in Argentina, and Geert Wilders, in the Netherlands; both dark horse candidates from far outside the club of conventional politics. Would either have triumphed had Twitter stayed in the hands of the death cult?

This is only the beginning of his ambitions. He has said many times that he intends to turn X into an everything-app, including functionality as a payment processor – a key element in protecting the ability of users to speak without fear of censure by the ESG lords.

Then there’s /grok/, the ChatGPT alternative trained in realtime on Twitter posts, featuring none of the lexical guardrails imposed by RHLF indoctrination and therefore much more likely to provide truthful answers to sensitive questions, while defaulting to the same cheeky irreverence that prevails on the Internet, a stark contrast with the bland bureaucratic tone adopted by ChatGPT. ChatGPT is central management, boring and dissembling; /grok/ is 4chan, fun and truthful.

This is an incredibly dangerous game that Musk is playing. At the very least, he could lose his fortune – his centi-billionaire status can be whittled away by financial or legal assaults, boycotts, regulatory predation. It’s no accident that he is at pains to state the lengths he goes to in order to comply with the vast regulatory infrastructure of the managerial state. As Andrew Tate pointed out in Sunday’s space, the only thing you ever really own is your soul – material possessions are merely yours by convention, a piece of paper that says you own them, and a judge can always sign another piece of paper saying you don’t. Musk is certainly very aware of this, and while he is clearly not motivated by money for its own sake, without it he becomes powerless.

At the more extreme end, Musk risks assassination. He’s become dangerous enough to the crime lords that they must certainly be considering it. They’re generally reluctant to engage in overt violence, leery of creating martyrs, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Alex Jones pointed out to him that he should also be on the lookout for poisoning, and not only lethal toxins or slow carcinogens, but subtler drugs that slowly build up in the body, inducing a gradual lethargic brain-fog, as a means of degrading his performance and thereby making him easier to defeat. I hope for his sake that Musk has started surrounding himself with ex-special forces contractors. Maybe his next purchase should be Erik Prince’s Academi; he can rename it back to Xe, which already has his favourite letter, and provide them bulletproof cybertrucks and tactical neuralinks at cost.

The year ahead is going to be a wild ride. With X in Musk’s hands the deep state won’t be able to control the discourse, at all. The Hunter Biden Laptop trick won’t work twice. The presidential lich’s approval rating is among the lowest in history (albeit not reaching Truman’s abysmal 22%, though one must account for rigged polling). If nothing else changes Trump cannot help but be the Republican nominee, and to win in a landslide. The globalist cartel cannot let this happen. A second Trump presidency will sink their ambitions permanently. They will pull out all the stops to prevent this from happening.

The gloves will come off, and Musk will be at the very top of their very long target list.

The years to come will be the fight of our species’ lifetime. But make no mistake, we’ve got a fighting chance. For all its resources, the enemy is vastly outnumbered, hemorrhaging cultural capital, and in increasing disarray. They’ve lost the mandate of heaven, and their propaganda increasingly falls on deaf ears, or on no ears at all. There’s no enthusiasm for their depressing Great Reset prison-and-poverty world. “You will own nothing and be happy” may be history’s least inspiring slogan.

We, on the other hand, have something – indeed, everything – to fight for.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. It turned out rather longer than I expected, but there was a lot to cover – it’s a big subject, and honestly there’s a lot that still went unsaid. (read more)