There are no gods or God, nor any intrinsic moral value to thought, word, or action; no psychic nor physical bliss or torment after death; no right or wrong (as in the public consciousness) but only truths and falsehoods (resonances of eternity).
There was one Big Truth which we will never fully understand because we are its expression–miniature physical manifestations of it– and then there are millions of little truths- personal truths, such as thinking your ma was the world’s best mother..in fact, many more mothers on earth were, are, and will be better than you’ve got: more compassionate, understanding, encouraging and appreciative. You can only love what you’ve got, after all.
The universe could only provide us the best mother that it could afford.
We are the breathing embodiment of our DNA code. Within that double helix lies the cellular symphony controlling your looks, your genitals, personality, your behaviors, your every strength and weakness. Some of us are better than others; others are net negatives on the human family, an incorrigible drag upon our progress. Usually, these are the same people trumpeting progress the loudest! Like children, they wreak havoc and an awful din to affix our attention towards their actions, which are nugatory and deleterious to the rest of us and are only performed to aggrandize themselves.
This universal program has one prime directive: reproduce. For men, this is best accomplished by fucking as much as possible..quantity over quality. However, our egos’ seek the most beautiful and intelligent (the former holds so much more weight than the latter, despite the wails of fatty feminists).
For women, fucking focusses on quality over quantity. Their eggs are rare and valuable compared to the limitless supply of sperm, most of which should be denied impregnating any egg. Some lineages must end sooner than later.
The world may be overpopulated, but SOMEONE must inherit the earth. If you value yourself, if you are a winner, if you wake up and your inner being yearns to beat your enemies and conquer the pitiable obstacles of modern day life, naturally you feel that it is your birthright to continue your being in the production of offspring. You innately feel the world is better served by your lineage than anyone else’s (if you don’t feel this way, you’ve been brainwashed through university, and most saliently, it’s because you are white). If you eschew perpetual loserdom and voluntarily extinction for your people, the continuation of your kind (directly with your own kids, and somewhat indirectly via close relatives) is obviously preferable to the swarthy dude who speaks Spanglish and mows your lawn; the swinish politician who swears allegiance more often to Israel than to the US; or your new next-door neighbor whose wife is draped in a black cloth garbage bag (you’ve never seen her face). One cannot help but root for one’s own—it’s embedded within our genetic code for they are, in a sense, our extended continental family before the Columbus joined the Old and New Worlds.
Heaven and hell reign on earth, side by side. You have been tossed into the battlefield whether you asked for it or not. Every breath marks the passage of time, the encroachment of death, and the limited time you’re granted to create an immortal legacy: either through the strength of character, achievements, or offspring. Choose wisely, or you may be swept into the dustbin of history next to homo erectus or the Neanderthals.
Like history, good and evil are written by the victors.