Stikkord: justice

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A guided meditation for the currents of the current year:

Illustration: «Peter Pantheist», A3, 2019, Moiret Allegiere

(Disclaimer: Despite the fact that obvious sarcastic and snarky satire is obvious, I have to include this disclaimer about the obvious sarcastic snarky satire of this piece since people are prone to misunderstand the purpose of something. More often than not, the misunderstanding is done on purpose. But, ah, well, that is the level we are at. This piece is obvious sarcastic and snarky satire.)

Make sure that you are sitting down or lying down comfortably. Is your room dark, are the lights dimmed? Good. Very good. Let’s begin.

Picture yourself lying on a beach which was, once upon a time, conquered by the western imperialist swine of ages past and as such ruined horribly by colonialism, losing all of its indigenous charm in the process, now being nothing more than yet another mass-manufactured tourist retreat for the well-to-do’s and the well-off’s, who have contributed immensely by the oppression and the violence inherent in the system, which of course does not include you in the slightest.

Above you, the sky is blue and the sun is shining warm and bright. A few clouds drift by, mere strips of vapour, almost transparent, not blocking out the warmth of the sun, just adding to the sensation of tranquillity and relaxation, filling your whole being with the sensation of being – simply being.

A calmness and clarity of mind fills your body and your mind as you realize, slowly, that what you took to be clouds may very well be industrial smoke from the next city over; yet another sign and signal of western colonialism and white cis-het patriarchy destroying the nobility of the land such as it used to be, tearing down the huts and burning the lands of the noble savage who lived in perfect harmony and balance with nature, and would still do so were they not corrupted by western industry and colonialism. Such a horrible thing, such a corruption is this westernised display of hegemonic masculinity, this tragedy that is the patriarchy.

You should take to Twitter to inform someone of this revelation. Go on. Just press pause. I’ll be here, waiting for you.

Back? Good. Now, let’s carry on. Make sure you are lying down or sitting down comfortably. Rest your muscles and release all that tension you are carrying from dismantling the kyriarchy, one self-righteous twitter-post at a time.

You are still lying on the beach in your minds eye. The sky is blue, a deep and marvellous shade of blue, reminding you of dreams and of childhood, of pleasures immediate and of a life simpler and less complicated than that of the current year.

All around you, you can hear birds chirping and a wind rustling the leaves of whichever trees have survived the invading forces of the hegemonic capitalist displays of toxic masculinity. The smell of the ocean surrounds you, the sound of the waves crashing on the beach engulfs you.

So calming.

So relaxing.

Focus your consciousness on the sound of the waves. Slow, rhythmic, beautiful, back and forth, back and forth in full karmic retribution and restoration. So spectacularly well-suited to cleanse all your overstressed chakras; permanently clouded and muddied by fighting the omnipresent kyriarchy. Now – let your breath follow the waves. Let your breath become the waves. Let your breathing and your self become as deep and as rhythmic as the ocean, as the waves.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Beautiful.

There you go.

Keep focusing on your breathing, focus all your attention and all your consciousness on your breath.

Try not to think of the waves as a symbol of the rhythmic and primal thrust of male sexuality; the primeval force ever and always thrusting in and out, in and out, back and forth, back and forth in a continuous cycle of heteronormative rape by deception, subjugating women by using their very biology against them and as such turning any woman in a loving heterosexual relationship into a sufferer of Stockholm-syndrome, eternally oppressed, and in being eternally oppressed not being aware of her own oppression because she has grown to love her captor and tormentor as only a brainwashed victim of the patriarchal institution of marriage and the social kyriarchical construct of heterosexuality could be.

Try not to think that she should be liberated from being too stupid to know that she is oppressed, and that it is your duty as a proud feminist to both inform her of this and of liberating her from her prison of silk and satin and negotiable comfort.

Breathe in.

breathe out.

Inhale.

exhale.

Try not to imagine your breath as a penis going in and out of your body, penetrating you over and over. Try not to consider your breathing as a symbolic representation of heteronormative marital rape which all heterosexual intercourse is, whether or not enthusiastic consent is given by the woman at all stages of intercourse.

Try not to picture this guided meditation as yet another sign of toxic masculinity, raping you brutally with every inhalation, with every exhalation.

You can’t, can you? OK then. That’s fine. Just fine. Take a break. Take a breather. Go on – post this revelation to Facebook and Twitter. Maybe you could even write an article or two about the dangers of ego-induced self-hypnotic subconscious rape, and how guided meditation is yet another tool of the patriarchy to subjugate, oppress and subsequently rape women; how it perpetuates a stereotype of women as passive and inactive objects, designed to do nothing but lie there, breathing and breeding. Go on. Just press pause. I’ll wait for you.

Welcome back. Are you sitting or lying down comfortably? Good. Wipe the sweat of your brow now, and relax your muscles and then we shall carry on.

Imagine the sand of the beach, the sensation of it touching and caressing your skin, not too coarse and not too soft in texture, not too hot and not too cold. Perfectly balanced and perfectly aligned with your chakras and your clean-cut karma and your kundalini, waiting to be awakened.

Try not to focus on your breathing. Focus your consciousness instead on all the different sounds you imagine around you – the birds chirping, the wind rustling the leaves, the waves of the ocean stopping and freezing completely so as not to remind you perpetually of ever-lasting self-induced rape.

Focus all your attention on the birds in your minds eye and ear, chirp-chirp-chirping away, so beautiful and so spontaneous, so natural, so incredibly free, not burdened by the weight of fighting the kyriarchichal methodology of the heteronormative patriarchy of white supremacy all day. Feel how your chakras are being cleansed as a massive surge of energy rises from the lower end of your spine, moving ever up and up along your spine as you do kundalini yoga, thinking of nothing but the sounds of calm and tranquil nature surrounding you in your minds eye and ear, hoping with every essence of your very being that you are, in fact, of Indian heritage and as such are not victimising their culture and their people by this horrible display of cultural appropriation which you may or may not be partaking in.

Try not to let your mind wander to the affront upon an entire culture, pillaged and raped by the ruinous forces of colonialism and western hegemonic white patriarchal dogmatic masculine toxicity and industrialization, trapping them all underneath the umbrella of the western industrial complex, ruining their beautiful culture with notions of western chauvinism.

Try not to picture the noble culture of those whom you consider to be noble savages being crushed under the heel of the might of the western industrial complex. Don’t let your mind wander as you realize that you are not of Indian heritage and are guilty of cultural appropriation. Try not to figure a way out of this mess through fantastic mental gymnastics, instead, let your focus again be fixed on the tranquillity of the nature in your minds eye and ear, of the slow and steady breeze that caresses your body and your mind simultaneously.

Do not breathe in.

Do not breathe out.

Do not breathe in.

Do not breathe out.

There you go. There you go. Feel how your muscles relax. Almost as though you are melting into the bed or the chair you are lying or sitting in, as if your body becomes a gelatinous mess, a blob of nothing-at-all. Try not to interpret this as some kind of fat-shaming or other.

You can’t, can you?

Have you figured out a way around your own cultural appropriation yet?

Good.

Very good.

Go on.

Take to Twitter to inform your followers about it, about how you read a book written by a Guru once upon a time when you were a small child, which so influenced your life that you have been identifying as trans-vedic ever since, and how horribly oppressed and persecuted all you trans-vedic folk have been ever since the beginning of recorded history and that really – really – were it not for the white supremacist underpinnings of the patriarchy, everyone all around the world would be born a true vedic, not a trans-vedic and as such your own cultural appropriation is nothing but yet another tool of the patriarchy and the fault of all men everywhere for doing exactly what all men everywhere – at least in the western world – have always done; keeping women from discovering their own vedic nature by forcing them to submit to the kyryarchical institution of marriage instead of allowing them to awaken all their kundalinis and all their chakras and realising their topsy-turvy buddha-nature at the same time, bringing forth the beautiful, loving and peaceful matriarchy which would stabilize the entire world and make us all hold hands, eat cake and sing “My Rainbow Race” in perfect harmony.

Go on.

Press pause.

I’m waiting.

Settled back in then?

Good.

That’s good.

Now, cleanse your sinuses and clear your mind of all thoughts and try not to remember that the swastika is a recurring symbol of Hindu religion. Try not to get angry at the fact that a literal swastika is literally placed above doorways and entrances literally all around the Hindu-world. Try not to remember that your own yoga-centre more likely than not are literal Nazis for having this abhorrent symbol of bigoted white supremacism and westernised male chauvinism waving hatefully and bigoted literally everywhere as the full frontal assault-like conspiracy of Nazism literally everywhere hits you full in the brainstem.

Do not breathe in.

Do not breathe out.

Do not breathe in.

Do not breathe out.

Good.

Keep doing that; keep holding your breath in quiet indignation as you acknowledge the fact that Nazism have infiltrated everything you see around you, everything you claim to care about; that all your trembling anarcho-communist trans-vedic feminist vegan yogic Hindu non-binary pansexual double-specied intersex two-spirit liberal progressive atheist friends are, literally, Nazis.

Try not to remember the swastika you saw in the photo taken of the Guru whose book you may or may not have read as a small child who so altered the trajectory of your life and made you a trans-vedic child of the universal harmony.

Try not to think about the picture of this gentle brown-skinned man with the twinkle in his eyes and the permanent, almost rascally, smile beneath the swastika. Try not to picture him as a white supremacist neo-nazi scumbag, which, by definition, through guilt by association, would make you and all your friends literal nazis and white supremacists.

Try not to understand that some symbols are ancient, that some symbols have more meanings and more uses than one, have been used by other cultures at other times in other places.

Now, count backwards from ten.

Ten.

Nine.

Eighty-eight.

Seven.

Six.

Heil.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Bring yourself out from the meditation, gently now, gently. And then, take to Twitter to inform all your followers that it is not always OK to punch a Nazi. Bring your mental gymnastics into the fray to explain how your brand of Nazism is OK.

That maybe, you should all look into yourself and embrace your inner Nazi since you have unwittingly been using the symbols anyway, and it dawned on you through deep tantric meditation that the only true path to take in order to awaken all your kundalinis and cleanse all your chakras so that they are aligned, not only with your own chakras, but also with the chakras of Gaia herself and to awaken the buddha-nature at the root of us all is to continue the glorious forward march of the pure, true and noble Aryan race; to bring forth the shining splendour of the fourth reich and, in so doing, paying the debtors of your karma!

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Moiret Allegiere, 17.04.2019

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Dread Mirror of Immediacy:

Ill: «Enlightenment», A3, Moiret Allegiere, 2019

Unreasonable demands are sung by the choir offended. Thus the web is spun. Each strand of the web leading toward the centre, manipulated carelessly and needlessly by trophy-hunting participators carelessly and maniacally seeking exclusive inclusivity in the victim-cult by virtue of myriad victim-points gathered from simply being part of the choir, all trembling vibrato and blazing accusatory eyes and fingers lined with truth-defying morality. It don’t matter whether true or not, it matters whether moral or not. So sing the soloists of the choir offended. Whose and what morality should that then be, grand orchestrator of dubious virtue?

Madness infused in vivid cocktails are served brilliantly by bartenders seeking death, destruction and despair to gain bland and half-interested clicks by stressed-out social media-junkies poked and prodded into immediate infancy; opinions claiming to be news forced down the throats of a public personified by outrage extreme, quickly bringing the imminent rage to a boil.

Lo: the choir offended screech eternally in glorious visions of paradise purged of bigotry bastardized by sing-song leaders mirroring the immediacy and immaturity of their hangers-on and clingers-on. Outlined by shades of unseen cruelty and unsung myth; hatred so extreme and so all-encompassing that we need manufacture it in order to bring the stats up, oh boy, oh man, oh queen-bee mimicking truth and evacuating her bowels to sway public opinion this way or that! The dread, frosted mirror reflecting our morality show naught but a steaming pile of shit. Nevertheless, it persists. Nevertheless, the fables are served time and again immediately, never given consideration. Listen. Believe. Even when told obvious lies and shown clearly rigged reality. Even when doubtlessly manufactured. Listen. Believe. Do not question the song of the choir.

Built upon sand and upon raging roars of silence, and then drugged and dragged beneath the waves hidden from the searchlights and the spotlights and the death-squad-madness, truth is hidden from our eyes as all hide their immediate tweet and twatter when their so-called outrageous truths lose their masks and show their faces as definitive deceit.

Such virulent and viral hatred, vacuous and hollow, sucking the life from the hive-mind and escaping from the void where social media once shone its light and bared its fangs to manipulate and then create a mob of hatred and unreason so unjust as to assume to be just in a split-second of unthinking, unblinking, unseen sensations of rage. No poetic justice for the never-mind hive-mind. Merely denial of facts and hiding, hiding, always hiding – nah, I never said that. Sure enough and yes you did, you just deleted your tweet and denied and then reversed victim order in order to be viewed as the true victim of the madness which you inflicted upon the world with your virulent hatred pointed at the one and only group-identity now allowed socially to be hated and scorned and assaulted. Stating that all men should be killed or that all men are evil caused you backlash. Look at the hate and misogyny you received by wicked women-hating men, all for being an opinionated woman on the internet. Imagine that, foul fiend of sanity: wishing death upon someone for the circumstances of their birth bring mad and angry backlash your way. Imagine that: making yourself out to be the victim when showcasing severe bigotry and sexism and wishes for death and dismemberment upon someone for their gender. For some incredible reason, this is proof that men hate women. Not that women hate men. To say it in kindergarten-terms, since that is how this hive-mind communicate: You started it! Or, even more bluntly: You smell like poop!

Alas; the choir offended seek only to offend and claim offence where no offence is given. Alas; the choir offended seek only to justify their putrid and petulant existence by pointing towards morality exempt from values and exempt from reason; a wishy-washy sense of morality supreme as brittle as a slut walk G-string, ever-changing as the course of the mob flies hither and thither busy collecting pollen to add to the hoard of the hive, or busy catching flies to bring as an offering to the centre of the web where all virtue gather in heaps of insane sludgy waste, immediate and peculiar, a brand of justice so far removed from justice, so separated from reality, that it snaps, crackles and pops at the slightest tremble of the string or poke of the hive.

To justify the existence of the hive, the web, the imminent rage sprung forth, fingers point and throw shades of shame, shame, shame upon the so-called bigots in defiance of the gibbering mouth of madness drooling and dribbling on their shoes; their morality is far better than the truth. And so they shout and so they screech and so they scream and roar and rage and gouge out your eyes instead of responding or defending their position or explaining in clear and certain terms what this explosive rage is all about.

There’s roars all around and revolution in the air, some poor bastard is chewing his tongue out in the corner for defying the pack, force-fed mediocre daytime television talk-shows all his life and dropped straight into the middle of a god-damned reptile-zoo, and someone is giving booze to these god-damned creatures. There is no survival to be had in this pack of frenzied and bloodthirsty beasts, lest one submit. Submit or be crucified, submit, or be burnt alive to be cleansed of your sins! We need revolution, for fuck sake! And no fucks given that day; the revolution will not be televised. It will be tweeted. A revolution of immediacy, change and progress for the sake of immediacy, change and progress. That is progress perceived as progress by those who consider segregation to be a virtue; who consider superficial traits more important than personality and character. Change sought due to boredom and dull complacency.

Someone polluted our air with neurotoxins, greatly affecting our intelligence. Then they poured a honeyed poison in our ears to make us frightfully afraid of something-or-other, a mythical monster from the fabled days of yore. We have to be at constant war, we need our bogeyman of the day and of the night to fight, lest we relax and feel good about ourselves. War is peace.

Should we let our guards down for a second and start existing in the present moment such as it is, we lose. Or so it seems. Somehow, some way, we need to get our fix of anxiety for the day, we need to get our fix of constant validation for our moral courage and justify our bastardized simplistic view of the world: group A good, group B bad, group C protected from all, particularly from group B. Submit, or be called a bigot and a liar by the forces thriving on bigotry and lies.

– Moiret Allegiere, 20.02.2019

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The End is Nigh! Repent!

Ill: «The Ascent of Man», A3, 2019, Moiret Allegiere

It would seem, to any enlightened individual, that the world really did end back in 2012. We just didn’t get the memo, and so we are just carrying on, stuck in perpetual limbo, unaware of the fact that the world did end. The loonies and crazies were right! Go fetch your tinfoil hats. It’s not too late.

Either that, or we are living in the end-times. Which, once again, would make the loonies right. Fetch your tinfoil hats and clutch your religious symbol of choice. The end is nigh. Repent. Repent, I tell you!

In some way, I have to explain away the madness permeating the world through something other than human error, ignorance and miscalculations. I believe I can not. And I have really been suffering a lack of inspiration lately. Chalk that one up to me constantly being about two drinks away from getting completely black-pilled, I suppose. Might as well give way to religious madness and fever and loudly proclaim for one and all the coming of the rapture and of the end-times. Make room for the holy spirit! He told me to speak for the one who is known as I am!

And lo and behold: The loud-mouthed manic madness of the victim-cultists refuse to learn a lesson from their many errors. They double, triple and quadruple down on any and all error and carry on as if they are still in the right, both morally and legally. What madness is this? What strange and peculiar end-time sign should this be; this lack of awareness of self, this chronic empathetic constipation which these moral chastity-crusaders disguise as being empathetic? It is all well and good, pointing fingers and demanding others change. But how can you see the speck of dirt in your genderfluid siblings eye, whilst being oblivious to the clogged up sewers constantly malfunctioning in your own eyes and mouth? Gazing ever inwards is the one path, the true path towards salvation. Care less about the doings of your fellow xirs and xerses, and consider your own actions, gracious Xadam. Or was that Xeve?

Once upon a midnight dreary, whilst I pondered weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious you tube video of forgotten lore; as I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly, there came a tapping as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my twitter-feed. It is some visitor, I muttered, entreating entrance at my twitter-feed. Some late visitor entreating entrance at my twitter-feed.

This it is and nothing more.

Open here I flung my Twitter, when, with many a drool and dribble, in there stepped a saintly soc-jus-warrior from the fabled days of yore. Not the least sense made xe, nor the last reason spoke xir, but, with many a shake and tremble, muttered something about a curfew for men and how grand that would be.

Be those words our sign of parting, they or them, I shrieked up-starting, leave my sanity unbroken, take thy form from of my Twitter. Leave no mental dribble as a token for that nonsense thy formless void have spoken, leave my dubious home-brew, have you back into the twitter and the feeds Plutonian shores!

It is of incredible importance to understand the depths of empathetic derangement the lunatics who run the asylum will dive into. For the sake of keeping women and minorities safe, in the name of progress, we must ban men from leaving their homes at night. That is professional-level empathy right there. And yes, of course, I understand that this imbecilic nonsense-gibberish will never come to fruition. I am aware that me attacking the proposal in question is very much reaching for the low-hanging fruit. Not to mention that it happened aeons ago when measured in internet-time.

Still, it deserves its honorary mention on a early, lazy and sleep-deprived Monday morning where I have to write or draw something. Or else I get the hose again. (As an aside; at the moment of writing this sentence, my Orthodox Jesus Icon fell down from the wall for the umpteenth time, and tumbled behind my speakers. Jesus is, in fact, in hiding behind my speakers. Jesus weeps. How very fitting for this ramble.) My reason for having a go at this abject horror of a solution to all the worlds woes is quite simple: How in all the hallowed halls of the abysmal asylum, from whence these cretins came, are these people considered to have the moral high ground on all things? How is this supposed to be the empathetic side, devoid of bigotry and discrimination, when such obvious displays of bigotry and wanted discrimination are met with cheers and squeals and grimaced giggles of delight?

The answer is as easy as popping an infected pimple: they have succeeded in othering men. Men are the other; the shadow side of our suicidal societies, upon whom all scorn may be laid by the dominant discourse whom no voice must dare defy, lest they be labelled a hater of women. Obviously.

It should be noted that I have absolutely no issues with them being allowed to say this. Speech is speech. Opinion is opinion. However: try saying the same thing in regards to women, and see how far that gets you. Hell: try pointing out the feminine dark, the shadow of the feminine mystique, the mirror of the masculine shadow, the masculine dark, and see them come crawling from the floors of the asylum proclaiming that these women whom you point to as examples of the feminine dark are but individual women and not representative of women as a whole. Thereby proving your point in regards to men as individual actors, not representative of men as a whole. However: men are, to their beady eyes and flickering smirks, a grey protoplasm, of one mind. Whereas women are not. Unless it suits them and their needs and their narrative structures.

All bow before the might of the mass; this woman and her lived experience is representative of all women and their lived experience! See how she has struggled and suffered at the hands of men! So proclaim the feminist deity. That one woman who murdered her children is but one woman, not representative of women as a whole, whereas that one man, who raped and murdered one woman is representative of men as a whole and the women whom he raped and murdered is representative of women as a whole. So also spake the feminist deity.

Instead of viewing bad acts and deeds done by one human being as the bad acts and deeds done by one human being; instead of considering both men and woman capable of both good and evil, the feminist lens show men as the shadow of humanity and women as the light of humanity. The bad deed of one man is enough to paint all men as bad, and as such making all men deserving of scorn and hatred, fear and ridicule. The bad deed of one woman is but the bad deed of one woman, and someone probably did something to her once that made her do it and so we must show compassion and understanding for her plight, even if she burned her children alive and cut out the beating heart of her husband with a rusty tin-can whilst he was gagged and bound to the bed and made to watch her eat his heart with a bottle of chianti whilst his children screamed in agony in the other room as the flames engulfed them. Clearly the woman is the victim in this instance. Someone must have hurt her at some point in her life, and she deserves our sympathy and our pity. And so it goes.

Don’t believe me? Probably not. Already up, foaming at the mouth and claiming foul misogyny for me daring to say that one woman acting badly is one woman acting badly and not representative of women as whole, just as one man acting badly is not representative of men as a whole? Or being pissed off at me for claiming that the bad actions of women are given excuses and that women are given understanding and compassion, despite their heinous acts whereas men are not? I implore you to pay attention to the coverage in the media on bad acts done by women and bad acts done by men. Pay close attention. Look at the differences in language used. Take your time. Do the work. Pay attention to what is being said, as well as how it is being said. That is, of course, if you are of a mind that is open with eyes that are willing to see things that stand in stark contradiction to the dominant narrative of men as privileged and violent oppressors and women as weak victims of the actions of men, not actors capable of acting but objects being acted upon by outside forces far stronger than themselves.

Embracing non-feminism is embracing the radical notion that women are human beings, capable of both good and evil just as men are. Or, you know, you can just do as any feminist – well, anyone, really – does when confronted with opposition to feminism: pull a straw-man out of your own ass and light that on fire as a glorious effigy of the horrible woman-hating bastard on the other side of your flickering computer-monitor, instead of listening to, and arguing, the points being made by the horrid oppositional forces of evil confronting the lies and bullshit of feminism.

See, I treat the genders equally. I hold both men and women to the same standards. And the feminist hive-mind of virtue impeccable and clean don’t like that one bit. They would much prefer women to be treated as faultless; to be viewed as an unerring aristocracy, given the right to rule, judge and govern by some unnamed deity.

It is easier, and makes for a world simpler to understand when one divides it up into tribes and then paints one tribe as inherently bad, with good deeds being a rarity and not the norm and the other tribe being inherently good, with bad deeds being a rarity and not the norm. And try as one might, the world is not that simple. Nothing is that simple. Nothing is ever as simple as separating black from white. One can not see the shadow without simultaneously seeing the light. And it is humanity, not women, not men, that is the source of both the light and the shadow.

I believe most people to be good and to be acting in good faith. Most people are just trying to get by, and as such do not have the time, the interest or the ability to delve into matters at great length. People tend to take things at face value. Which, I believe, is the main reason feminism holds such sway and such power. Because, at face value, it is presented as nothing but a wish for equality between the sexes. And how could anyone disagree with that? Very few people do. And there you have it.

What should frighten anyone is the level of control and governance feminism has achieved by painting men as the shadow and women as the light. By playing on the needs of our societies to provide for, and protect, women and children. Deep evolutionary roots go deep. It is truly frightening how feminism has burrowed into our collective consciousness to such an extent that everyone is a feminist by default; to such an extent that it is considered the only voice – the one true voice – the “I who is known as I am” – of equality between the sexes. Even when they show, time and again, that they are not at all interested in equality. Human rights are human rights, but the rights of women are above that. Stop violence against women, not against humans. Stop violence against women, even when men suffer violence far more than women do. Empathy for the plight of women above all, not humanity as a whole.

Because women are the light, and men are the shadow. As such it is painted, and so it is spoken. If we do not turn around on this and view human beings as human beings; if we do not turn around on this and view the genders as complimentary and as fulfilling each other, I fear that the end times are, in fact, nigh. If we do not stop considering the church of the latter day feminists as the only voice of equality, we are doomed as a species to be locked in a constant tribal warfare where men and women are seen as being on opposing teams instead of being comrades in arms – so to speak – working together to keep our societies running as best they can. Repent! Or the end shall surely be nigh.

Moiret Allegiere, 13.02.2019

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Lashing out, lashing in, let me begin:

Ill: «Transcendence #2», A3, 2019, Moiret Allegiere

This is going to be a relatively long one. Grab a drink, buckle yourself in and get comfortable.

Last night, (14.01.2019) I woke at five in the morning with the horrible sensation of not being able to breathe properly. A reasonable person would probably have taken this as a sign of some difficulties with the heart; a cause for great concern and an immediate evacuation to the halls of healing provided by our health services. Not me, though. I engaged in deep breathing until it passed, and then I fell asleep again, and woke with the mindshattering sound of my alarmclock going of three hours later. A reasonable person would probably consider my actioan in this instance to be of some concern; a sign that I am not taking my health seriously. The truth of the matter is that I am used to waking up like this. There is a lingering subconscious panic and dread somewhere in the dark recesses of my unconscious psyche still; a vague voice whispering that I am not yet, for lack of a better word, fulfilled.

Of course, these nocturnal bouts of panic and doom has lessened immensely over the course of the past two years. Prior to this, it happened every night and was far more severe. Every night for two years, I woke with what can only be described as night-terrors, and could not get back to sleep no matter how much I tried. The confusion and pure panic in those moments made me fear and avoid sleep as much as I could; sometimes not going to bed at all, but clincing to being awake as though my life depended on it. And maybe it did. At the very least, I belive my sanity – or what little was left of it in those fabled days of yore – depended upon it.

Sitting like that, alone at night with nothing for comfort but youtube and my own random, racing thoughts gave me a lot of room to think. Probably too much room to think. It also granted me the ability, over time, to control my thoughts and fracturing mind. Not as good as I would wish, but better than it ever had or has been. Some good came of it, even if I spent three years, give or take, in a state of constant agitation and panic. It put me on a path I desperately needed to be put upon, though I did not know it at the time.

For a multitude of years, I had been going to therapy. And their way of helping me was to put me on drugs, drugs and more drugs. I was given drugs to counteract the sideeffects of the other drugs I was on, and new drugs to combat the effects of those drugs which were meant to combat the effects of the other drugs. An entire, multicoloured galaxy of uppers, downers, screamers and streamers to keep me sane. That is: to keep me numb and burnt out. To keep my mind from being my mind. Due to the amount of drugs, and the relatively young age at which I was given these, they halted my emotional development and put my life dead in its tracks for several years. Nothing happened. I was sitting in stasis – gaining weight and gaining pessimism and gaining an everexpanding sense of frustration in regards to my life – or lack of life. This frustration was very much subconscious, but manifested in several severely selfdestructive ways. Which, of course, made the psychiatrists give me more drugs. The circle was complete. And the damage was done. And the damage still lingers.

At the time, of course, I believed that the fault for my life going absolutely nowhere was that of my own and my mind, fractured and ruined as I had been told that it was, from seeing shrink after shrink since I was fifteen years old and my teenage temperament, all gloomy depression and confused anxiety, was treated as a severe mental illness. Thus, being told half my life that there was something wrong with me meant that there had to be something wrong with me.

In essence, I was brought up into illness by the hum-diddle school of psychology. This is, of course, not to say that I am not responsible for the poor choices I have made. Because of course I am. My actions and choices were and are my own. There are contributing factors, however. And a lot of those contributing factors stemmed from the psychiatric dissolution of my self through drugs supposed to help me along the way, but who at their core halted my core from growing and developing roots which would gain sustenance from myself. Instead of aiding my growth, they halted my growth. Instead of making me better, they made me worse.

Diagnosis after diagnosis was thrown at me, and nothing seemed to stick. No diagnosis was correct, and yet I was given medications to treat the diagnosis which I did not have, time and again. Faulty diagnosis – medication – faulty diagnosis – medication. And then, of course – medication to combat the effects of other medications. Whenever a certain diagnosis was shown to be wrong, they did not halt the drugs given for that diagnosis. They conjured forth a new diagnosis and gave me drugs for that as well. My medical journal is a confusing mess. As was my life at the time; mirroring it perfectly, all jumbled and confused and frustrating. I could go on about this, but I won`t. I think I have gone on for long enough. I plan to expand on this, and my experience in quitting medication and psychology, at some later point. Maybe as a book, maybe as a series of blogposts. Probably both. Suffice it to say; I learned a lot from this experience through clawing my way through hell.

Now, the reason I am bringing all this up is very simple: it has to do with the mental health – or lack thereof – of boys and men. Or, more to the point – the lack of proper mental health services for men and boys. In particular since traditional masculinity – that is to say, masculinity at all – is now considered both pathological and as an ideology, whatever the fuck that means, by the powers that be. How, then, can a man trust to a mental health service when it deems masculinity itself to be at the root of all issues a man face?

What men are told, then, when seeking counseling, is that he is ill for the simple reason that he is a man. That if he only stopped being masculine, as nature has made him, he would be better. I can not conceive of how that would help him in any way, shape or form. Picture this scenario:

Therapist: So, what`s bothering you?

Patient: Well, I am feeling suicidal. My life is going nowhere. I can`t find employment and I can`t find any field of study to enter.

Therapist: Why do you think that is?

Patient: Well, they have these gender qoutas that is favouring women in my chosen field. And due to this, I can not find employment or somewhere to study despite being qualified and having tons of experience.

Therapist: Do you think this is a bad thing?

Patient: well, yes. I think the ones that are the most qualified should get the job.

Therapist: Do you not think women are qualified to work in your field?

Patient: Not when I am more qualified than they are, no.

Therapist: That, I think, is your male privilege speaking. You are so used to getting the world handed to you on a platter due to being a man, and now you are struggling to comprehend this loss of privilege.

Patient: what? No – I don`t think that is…

Therapist: Why are you so scared of gender equality?

Now, of course, this is probably a case of hyperbole on my part. But it drives the point home. Imagine seeking help due to self-loathing and suicidal tendencies, and then being told that your very nature is the cause of your issues. And then being told that it is not even your nature, but a social construct – a supposed ideology of masculinity – that has sown the seeds of your discontent. Now imagine being a young man. Or a boy. Seeking counsel and guidance for the same, impressionable as all hell and confused from the raging tide of hormones which only puberty can bring. This therapy and poor counsel can only breed more confusion. You are not you, they seem to say. Your nature is not in your nature. Moreover – that which is not your nature and which is not you, but which you still cling to and which still defines you – is toxic and destructive at its core and need to change. And this change, it seems, is not to help you grow, but to help the rest of the world grow.

Through counselling you are beat into servitude, one phony concerned sentence at a time, smooth as a serpents hiss, all forked tongue and whispered promises of betterment; if only you would understand your inherent toxicity and privilege, all would be well. Considering that men are the group most at risk for suicide, this does not bode well for the future of men.

This is not science. This is ideology parading around town masquerading as science. It is beautifully crafted; vile hatred of men and masculinity clothed as great concern for boys and men. I can not even begin to fathom how telling a young man who is struggling with suicidal urges – or a grown man, for that matter – that the fundamental reason for his suicidality is, in essence, his fundamental being, his very core. Couple this with the constant reminder – through massmedia, through social media, through schools and education, politics and parliament, through jobs and through parents, siblings, friends and family – that men are inherently bad, that there is something wrong with men, that men need to change for the betterment of all… You`ve got a recipe for disaster. Either individually, personal and private, or socially, public and societal.

Not only is a man told that he needs to change, he is told that he needs to change for the good of all, not for the good of himself. That his own emotional wellbeing takes the backseat to the emotional wellbeing of the world. And that his hurt hurts the world more than it hurts himself. He does not matter. Even when it is his wellbeing that he pays with blood and sweat and tears to be guided towards. What he is supposed to say is quite simple: «Serviam».

I will serve.

At the expense of myself, I will serve.

Which is, honestly and funnily enough, the traditional expectations levvied at men all the way from the beginning of time. What was that about the ideology of masculinity; the toxicity of traditional masculinity? Hah! It seems we have gone full fruitless circle once again. Now, imagine a girl or young woman going into therapeutic sessions and being told this; that her very nature is what is wrong with her. Can you imagine what levels of foaming-at-the-mouth-and-crotch outrage we would have seen then? And, I would like to add – rightly and justly so.

My school of thought is that everyone should be treated equally, regardless of gender or sexuality or colour of skin or what-have-you. This, it would seem, is not the school of thought which these self-proclaimed fighters for equality and justice for all is following.

This is, of course, not to say that people should not strive to be the best they can be. Bettering oneself and growing as a human being is of incredible importance, and gazing ever inwards deeply and labouriously is a important tool in doing just that. Know thy self, as the saying goes. When we have a cultural zeitgeist telling men – and only men – that they are flawed and need to change, however, we are at a loss of balance. Selfimprovement is not gendered. Nor is faults and flaws. Every individual, regardless of gender, has faults and flaws and room for improvement. Letting the faults of the world rest solely on the shoulders of one group is disingenuous at best and pure viscious malice at worst.

The outrage at claiming there is something wrong with the very nature of women would be immense. Of this, I think, there is little doubt. Claiming that there is something wrong with the very nature of men, however, is equality and justice made manifest; a social justice feverdream conjured forth from a mass-brainwashed collective psychosis, enginereed and finely crafted over decades. The genders should be treated equally. And so, we must teach men that there is something wrong with men – we must teach our societies that there is something wrong with men and nothing wrong with women. In the name of equal treatment. Summed up thusly: Men bad, Women good. For equality, for justice, for truth and mad pathology. One for one and all for one.

***

Now picture a young man. Confused by the hormones coursing through his body at the peak of puberty. Confused by a troubled upbringing, perhaps, or the loss of a loved one, or a lack of direction. Maybe only confused by life itself, and in need of some guidance and some help to overcome some obstacle or other. And so he seeks counselling. He seeks therapy. If only to gain some perspective, or to vent his frustrations to someone who`s job it is to understand and lend an empathetic and helpful ear. Someone who gets paid to help someone overcome difficult obstacles. And he vents. He opens up. He tells all. And is told that the reasons he feels like this is that he is conditioned to not feel – that he has been cast in the mold of oppressor and tyrant by a society which, apparently, only has his best interests in mind. That he should cast aside his notions of who he is and replace it with who his therapist thinks he should be. And who his therapist thinks he should be is far detached from the reality of who he, by nature, is. And who his therapist thinks he is – tyrant and oppressor, privileged and pampered – is far detached from the reality of who he, by nature, is.

Now, would not this cause more confusion? Would not this fester in his mind like a tumour; growing and growing more and more the more he is told that he is at fault for his own issues by virtue of his birth? Mix the condemnation levvied at men and masculinity by the educational system which he is forced through into the mix, toss the misandry imposed upon him through the news which he absorbs and the girls in his class into the cauldron, stoke the fires with politicians telling him that he is evil incarnate and that he has no real issues to worry about and that he should bend the knee to help girls and to help women overcome the obstacles which he is directly or indirectly responsible for by privilege inherent from birth. And now, bring it to a boil with a family which tells him the same.

Burnout.

Washout.

Done and dusted.

Cleared, cleaned, clinically insane.

And this is what our culture celebrates – a constant demonizing of men for the perceived benefit of not the men in question, but the world around them. And we dare paint this travesty as being of benefit to boys and men. We dare paint it as a major benefit, which sees boys and young men dropping out and burning out, not participating nor launching, but washing up on the dust-and-cobwebbed-bedecked shores of our cultural wasteland.

Any voices raised – by the boys and men in question, or by others concerned – in opposition to the proposition that boys and men need to be socially enginereed into useful objects, helpful to all but themselves, is shouted down and held forth as a shining example of exactly why we need this misandric turn of page and phrase, this hatred disguised disgustingly as concern. It is a lose-lose situation. For boys and men.

What the claim is is of course: oh, no, it`s not all men. (Excepting, of course, when the same voices shine through the fog with a beacon saying #yesallmen) It`s just the bullies and the rapists, the harassers and the violent carriers of toxicity, of the virus of masculinity. If you should feel offended by the message, it means you are one of them and so you prove the point of the message. Clever. Very clever. It`s that worldwide emotional manipulation poking its bedazzled head out of the sand again, turning the victim into the victimizer. Agree with the message, and you are a good man and it is your job to stop other men behaving toxically. Object to the message, and you are one of the bad men and proof that the message need be told. One man is responsible for the actions of all men, which is to say that all men are responsible for the actions of one man. When that action is bad, that is. Flip the script, and you will learn that one woman is not responsible for the actions of all women and that all women are not responsible for the actions of one women. If they are bad. If they are good, it is a cause for celebration of all women. Women good, men bad. The bad done by one man is proof of the wickedness of all men. The good done by one woman is proof of the kindness of all women. Nuance is dead. Both men and women have the same capacity for both good and evil. This is forgotten in the gender-wars and the propaganda of the language therein.

A man can not win either way. Either we need to change, or we need to make other men change. To serve and to please, to serve and to protect. Or to kill ourselves in the process; to fail at life and withdraw into the nothing, into the ether. To be drugged unconscious and met with naught but disdain in the public and the private sphere, and being met with naught but distrust and blame-and-shame when we seek therapy and understanding from medical professionals who`s very job is to help and aid. And then to be forcefed a multitude of drugs to suppress our nature, quite literally being turned into mindless inactive zombies incapable of participating in any way, shape or form.

The result is a generation of boys and men turned away at the gates of life; denied the respect and compassion, understanding and empathy which they deserve. An entire generation of boys and men being taught from birth that there is something genuinely wrong with who they are at their very core. This, one would assume, is not proper behaviour towards any group of people. And one would be right in assuming this. Such as it is, our societies need their sacrificial goat – their idol to be shouted at and despised and blamed for the ills of the fracturing world we see before us, and simulatenously being told to fix it: both God and Devil. It is a mass communal unleashing of frustration and the Jungian shadow of humanity itself. The evil and vindictive force within us all. Men are the only group in society upon which this vindictiveness, this hatred, this frustration and this perplexing shadow of our souls and psyches may be unleashed with impunity. And they dare label it as compassion and concern for boys and men!

Don`t believe it? Try throwing the same vile abuse and everchanging demands for change at any other group in our splintering culture, and see how far that gets you. Try telling women as a group that they need to change. Or blacks. Or muslims. Or jews. Or homosexuals. Pick and chose, and see how far you get before the armies come marching at you from the virtuous anthill of the chronically concerned and offended.

This hatred and abuse get internalized by the boys and young men in question. Creating ever more need for therapy and psychiatric assessments of their being and of their ruptured psyche. Yet another of those viscious and vacuous circles manufactured by our daycare-societies. And being met with drugs, disbelief and disillusioning tales of their inherent privilege and propensity for oppression and toxicity in therapeutic sessions from beyond the wide-eyed wonder of the massmanufactured concern-trolling of this noxious fume of feminist indoctrination, they come to believe in the evil of their being. And the mood changes, the mood spirals ever downwards and, in lew of understanding, they are given more drugs. Causing the mood to descend further into the abyss. And the abyss opens wide to engulf them and swallow them whole. Perpetually lost boys floating aimlessly in a continuing vacuum; emotionally flatlined by neurotoxins and with a growing rage and resentment for which there is no release, no understanding and no help.

And as men are drawn towards action in times of personal crisis, they reach a breaking point and lash either outwards or inwards. Drawing from the core of their being; the masculine call to action which has been supressed and denied and labelled as inherently toxic. They snap. As one does, who has stared into the abyss for far too long. Manifested most often in selfharm and selfdestruction – or – more visibly destructive to society as a whole, it manifests as them taking others down with them in a blaze of fire and fury. This is where you get your mass-shooters and mass-murderers, your posterboys for toxicity and hatred.

And then, refining and re-engineering the circle once again, this is a call for the media to write articles on what is wrong with masculinity, holding these individuals forth as definite proof of the fact that there is something fundamentally wrong and defective with boys and men; not showing the least bit of concern for the tragedy which happened and having no qualms in using it as a tool to push ever more anti-male sentiments, stoking the fires already burning under the feet of the young boys and men which are doomed to failure and bound to lose in a society who`s blatant hatred of them is veiled as concern for their wellbeing!

Imagine for a moment what would have happened if these young men were shown compassion, understanding and empathy instead of ridicule and scorn. Instead of being labelled as incels or virgin-losers by feminisms doctrine when they voiced their opposition, or being marked by birth with the sign of the devil; a swinging cock and balls eternally flagellating the poor oppressed under their naturally oppressive nature.

Ave, Ave, Feministas.

This doctrine creates men there is something wrong with. Men ruined and broken by a society which claims to care equally for all, but which shows time and again that it cares nothing at all for men and for boys; a society in which men and boys are told to man up in order to help women and to attack their brothers for perceived trespasses on the virtue of women. Men, you need to help women. Women, you need to help other women. Noone needs to help men; they can help themselves by bending the knee and helping women and only women. That is to say, as stated time and again: by helping feminism and only feminism. Not only that; they are also told that manning up is proof of toxic masculinity; the suppression of feelings inherent in the toxicity. So man up and help and don`t man up and help by not manning up. Only express your feelings in a way suitable to feminisms gold standard. Meaning: express our feelings about men and masculinity, and share our emotions.

I have stared into the abyss of selfloathing myself. For years upon years; indoctrinated into the eternal victimcult, being reminded over and over that it is me and only me that is at fault. That my being is wrong, defective, destructive and hateful. I have been told that we live in a society in which women are oppressed, and I have seen time and again how this is not the case. Yet; I could not see through the veil across my eyes nor break away from the chokechain around my neck. I considered qoutas and affirmative action a necessity; proof of womens oppression when it is, in fact, proof of quite the opposite. Preferential treatment is not proof of oppression. One being treated better than the other – at the expense of the other, I might add – is not proof of the other oppressing the one. It is proof of the one being treated far better than the other by the other, which is claimed to treat the one worse. And, yes, the words «One» and «Other» are used with a purpose in mind. We are othering boys and men, turning them into second-class citizens to be treated with mistrust, and if not mistrust, then downright fear and loathing. And we are turning women into the One, a saving force and perpetual grace; an aristocracy which we must never contradict, never oppose, under pain of social death.

As with most boys and men, I lashed inwards as the abyss stared back into me. And as a result of lashing inwards, I was drugged into oblivion, balancing on a razorblade and tiptoeing through existence with no goals, no mind, no motives, no nothing. Psychopharmaceuticals scorched my neural pathways and burnt a hole into my mind who`s damage still lingers with me, running through my mind and my body in white scorching lines manifesting as chronic pain and chronic fatigue. Still burnt out; four years after ending my days as a drug-mule for the pharmaceutical bliss of our un-empathetic psychiatrists offices. And I am pissed off. Rightfully so.

My days of lashing inwards is drawing to an end. I employ the pen and what little energy I still have left to explore ideas and to lash outwards in a more cerebral manner; employing what explosive energy might linger in the core of my being in an attempt to change minds and inspire others to do the same; to partake in the battle of ideas we are caught up in.

We need to show that we deserve respect and understanding, compassion and empathy. And we must stand still and strong in this storm. And in standing still we move ever forwards on our path to make our societies understand that boys and men need to be met with empathy and understanding, not ridiculed, shunned, feared and blamed when opening up. We need to turn this tide and we need to stand together to do so. What differences we may have in our core values – traditional or non-traditional, conservative or liberal, etcetera, etcetera, need to be forgotten and put aside for the moment so that we can focus our energies towards a greater good; showing that masculinity is inherently good and that men are inherently good. Cooperation across the board is what we need.

There is a mass-awakening to be done. Imagine if boys and men were met with empathetic ears and, through action, shown that it is in fact our current cultural zeitgeist that is flawed at it`s core, not them. We would see far less mass-shootings. Far less men snapping. Far less men committing suicide. Feminst doctrine have created a self-fulfilling prophecy in their toxic masculinity narrative. And, I suspect, they are intensely pleased with themselves about this fact. Men and boys need to support other men and boys. And we need to stop internalizing the constant feedback-loop of hostility and negativity we are met with. Make the feminists live by their own rules by stating, quite simply: «If you belive that the genders should be treated equally, then you ought to start treating the genders equally». Or do not engage at all; there is no use in debating someone who has no interest in listening; who`s only concern is to speak and to have their voices heard at the expense of the voices of others.

If something is OK to be said about men in general, then it is OK to be said about women in general. If it is not suitable to be said about women in general, then it is not suitable to be said about men in general. Use their rulebook against them. Do not internalize hatred. Be strong. Be proud. Be yourself. And never let anyone condition you into believing that your masculinity is toxic. Stand still, holding a candle of self-respect to your heart and whisper to yourself: «Non serviam».

I will not serve.

For the sake of myself, I will not serve.

– Moiret Allegiere, 19.01.2019

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