All-American Civil War (Fiction)
Riots break out the day after an American Presidential election
10/28/20 (Substantial Revision 8/8/2024); 6,484 words, in 4 manifestoes
By John Corry
All-American Civil War
“Hate is rooted in fear, and the only cure for fear–hate–is love.” –Martin Luther King Jr.
***
MANIFESTO
“______ has STOLEN this election. ______ has MADE this decision. ______ has asked for every little thing that’s about to come.”
–Post after post of FIRES, LOOTINGS and KILLINGS; people SCREAMING at each other in ALL CAPS like they’re Randy Blythe or Trevor Strnad or some shit. I’m upright on my bed, next to my window, taking a break on my phone with my laptop next to me when I hear a muffled boom down the street. My landlord, Frank, has a BB gun, but I think that’s it–
–His door SWINGS open–
“Yo, look outside!” he says–
–Charley, in his room next to mine: “Hooooooolyy ssshhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit–”
–I LEAP from my bed, look out the window. Twenty (20) people or so are marching up the street towards our house, tossing rocks and eggs at houses and cars, and shouting, “come out, ______!” Most have rifles–
“Come OUT, ______ people!–”
–They SHOOT up a house–
“That’s a warning!–”
–A truck EXPLODES–
–Frank: “Dude, lock the front door–”
–Charlie: “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” as he runs out his room–
“COME! OUT! ______ PEOPLE!!!–”
–Charley locks the front door. The mob is now only maybe forty (40) feet (ft.) away from my window–
–Frank: “Fuckin’ ______knew this would happen after rigging the election!–”
“Did they rig it though?” –Me, more so to pester–
“Well, they talked about it well enough!” Frank says, as Charley runs back into his room. “All the ______? And the ______!? He’s been practically begging for this, not to mention his droogs–”
–Me: “Well, that sounds a little–”
–CLINK–
–Charley: “Did you see that!?–”
–One of our neighbors SHOOTS one of the marching ______ in the street from their window–
–They SCATTER–
“FIND THE ______!–”
–Three (3) of the ______ scale the hill up to our house. Some more SHOTS go off. I hear an explosion somewhere out of my view–
–My window SHATTERS. Its splintered glass shards cover my torso and the top half of my bed–
“COME OUT!!!!!–”
–They BANG at our front door–
“WE KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!–”
–We SPRINT over. More SHOTS go off outside. One (1) of them hit one (1) of our would-be intruders through the mirror as blood SPLATTERS all over the front window–
–The remaining two (2) ______ RAM the door down, raise their guns to their eyes as they see us–
“______!” one SHOUTS–
–Frank PELTS the one above the eye with his BB gun, causing the ______ to go down, and drop the weapon. The other SHOOTS as Frank’s cat, Paul, LEAPS from the couch, TRIPPING the ______ and causing her to accidentally shoot the TV–
–I LEAP onto her back, causing the gun to AGAIN go OFF and SMASH the mirror by the front door next to the window–
–OG ______ DARTS at Frank’s knees, and both go to the ground–
–Charley returns from the kitchen–
–The ______ TWISTS me off, points the gun at me as I SMACK her hand to the ground–
“______!” the ______ SHOUTS–
–Me: “You–”
–SHANK–
“NICE SHOT!” I yell. Dude got that ______ right in the eye–
–Charley, looking blankly at his handiwork: “Holy shit–”
“GAH!–”
–The ______ has Frank in a chokehold–
–She tightens as she looks at me–
–I look to the gun–
–The ______ JUMPS offa Frank, DIVES for the gun. I JUMP on the ______ back, YANK back the ______’s hair like Velcro–
–She turns over–
–I PRESS the pressure point just above her chest with both hands, as she wraps a grip around my throat–
–She gasps–
–Charley CHUCKS another knife, this one much bigger, but it misses, so I reach for it–
–The ______ lets go, so I grab the knife, but the ______ KICKS me in the ribs, and SNATCHES her gun from a few feet away–
“______!–”
–I STAB the ______ in the neck as the shot goes wide–
–The ______’s body goes limp–
“Dan!” Frank yells–
–The head twitches…–
–I stab AGAIN, and AGAIN; then AGAIN, and AGAIN, and AGAIN and AGAIN–
“DAN!” Frank says–
–Charley: “DAN! STOP!–”
–But I –can’t. I just watched the eye of that other ______ POP like a fucking GRAPE! There’s blood everywhere, all over my brand new ______ t-shirt! All I ever wanted to do was write, and to read, but that was never enough. Every day for four (4) years now, ‘______ is the worst person in the world,’ ‘______ is Hitler incarnate,’ ‘politics, ______, and skin ______ are the only things that matter,’ not THOUGHT, not LIFE, not ‘love’… How could I write with so much Hate manufactured specifically to BEAT people like me into never wanting to read another thing again? People like ‘us’? Frank and Charley never got it…
“DAN!–”
–I TOSS the knife, close my eyes, take a breath. ‘There’s a time and a place to write and to read,’ I figure. ‘Now is not it–’
–Charley: “Dude, are you alright?–”
–Me: “Yea–”
–Frank: “Holy fuck, bro–”
–The chaos outside has stopped. I glance out the window. All the ______ are gone, at least for the time being. Guts and corpses litter the scene like bored haters on Twitter (it’s primary demographic). Some of Frank’s neighbors have gathered in the middle of the street directly in front of our house. A few of the corpses are kid’s… ‘How did it get to this?’ I think. My phone vibrates–
–We walk out the front door. It looks like most of the block is here. Cops FLY past like in cartoons on the main street three (3) houses up, sirens BLARING once every forty (40) seconds. Four (4) kids run around the area, and three (3) more stand shaking with the group. The house next to ours looks pretty shot up, but the people who live there–Stan, Karen, and their daughter, Brianna–are all with the group in the middle of the street–
“You guys ever meet our neighbors?” Frank asks Charley and I, still maybe thirty (30) yards (yds.) away from the group–
–Me: “Nah–”
“That chick next door is a ______–”
“Now, that’s what I like to see!” says a dude in the group at our arrival. “Got the ______ guns–”
–Frank: “Oh, we got you, Bob–”
“You’d better have some for all of us,” says the woman standing next to him. “This is no place for that ______ rhetoric–”
“These guys voted for ______,” says another. “Look at them! We can’t trust them–”
–Me: “How do you know I voted at all?–”
“Whom are we supposed to trust?” another asks. “I trusted ______ and the ______ for years and now they’re ______ in the streets–”
–Bob: “Well, some of us voted for ______–”
–The door by the garage of the house across the street opens. An old man walks out, followed by an old woman in a wheelchair steered by a younger dude from behind–
“Oh, my god!” a woman exclaims–
–A man in the group runs up to them with his hands over his mouth, gun dangling across his chest like apples on a tree. The older fellow has blood across his shirt–
“Are you okay!?” another man from our group yells–
“We’re fine,” says the older man–
–Bob sneers–
–Old Man: “The bullet skimmed my side, we’ve wrapped it up–”
–He lifts up his shirt to reveal a bloody bandage wrapped around his stomach–
–Younger dude: “And even ______ might have ethical problems killing an old ______ woman–”
–Some random person: “Have we met?–”
“No, we haven’t,” says the old man, and he holds his hand out. “I’m Malcolm, and this is my beautiful wife, Amelia–”
“Their family has lived here since the Revolution,” the man behind the wheelchair says. “In that same house,” and he glances at it. “Of course, this all looked a bit different back then, but so does everything after enough time. Only appearances are fated to change–”
–Amelia: “This is our caretaker, Blake. He’s quite the ‘philosopher’,” with the ‘hand’ ‘gesture’–
–Malcolm, interrupting: “We’ve barely seen anyone since all the ______ stuff began. We couldn’t even hold a funeral for our son–”
–Blake: “A ‘veteran’, by the way–”
“A great man–”
–Amelia: “It’s nice to see the neighborhood getting along–”
“How did this happen?” Frank asks the group. “Is this all in reaction to the election last night?–”
“That’s one way of putting it–”
“There hasn’t even been an official winner yet, has there?” says another–
“The mailing centers were being BOMBED before the day even began, so to speak–”
“I heard that was a rumor?–”
“Does it matter? Look around, kid!–”
–There’s smoke in the distance. Sirens DASH on the main street every dozen seconds. I think I’ve seen a few U-Hauls (™) with chains on the tires–
“After months of nothing but fear-mongering and herd-mentality baiting, what did you expect?–”
“Fear-mongering and herd-mentality baiting from whom?–”
“The ______, of course!–”
“______ SUPPORTERS!!!???–”
–Bob: “The ______ aren’t in this anymore. FUCK em’–”
–Malcolm: “All I know is that I am glad to be here with all of you, and my beautiful Amelia–”
–Someone: “Bob is right, the ______ never cared about ______, they just pretended to because it’s easier to maintain power that way–”
“Sounds a lot like YOU,” says another–
–Amelia: “And I’m glad to be here with you–”
–A woman from down the street WAILS on her knees at the facedown ______ kid in the puddle near the bottom of the hill. Someone’s phone goes off–
“Well, I don’t have anyone but myself,” says this dude Randy, also holding a rifle, though this time his own. “What does that say about me?” I know this dude because he’s bought weed offa Charley a good couple of times times. Maybe a little weird a thirty-eight (38) year old is living by himself this day in age, but, hey, at least he’s funny–
“______ aren’t true people,” one of the other guys says. “I’ve been seeing it on the TV since ’69,” and I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic. “No way that many people can be wrong–”
“Have you been on the internet?–”
“Of course I have! How else could I make a living?–”
–Bob: “The ______ have turned every argument into a battle for title-superiority, because they think that ‘power’ and ‘title’ are synonymous, and that’s why we’re in the situation we’re in. Simple as that. They think they’re so smart and so great and so powerful for knowing people need help, that they subsequently don’t have to actually do anything about it–”
“So, calling them ______ is a better solution?” says another in the group. “Making fun of people less fortunate, all because you have the disillusion to think you’re as bad off?–”
–Bob: “No ______ has ever said that!–”
“Then why all the ______!?–”
–Bob: “Because the ______ has FORCED us into this situation!–”
–Brianna: “So what do we do now?–”
–SKIRRrrRRT–
–A U-Haul™ FLIPS down the hill on the main street, and EXPLODES two (2) seconds later (probably should have gone with those chained tires)–
–A group of ______ approaches from down the hill. There are only a few of them, but they’re LOUD, FAST, and Obnoxious™, chanting, “KILL! ALL! ______! KILL! ALL! ______!–”
–Someone: “I’ll call the police!–”
–Bob: “You think they’ll help us? We’re ______–”
–Someone-else: “They’re coming!–”
–Randy: “YOU must have informed them!–”
–He points his gun at Charley–
–Malcolm: “Oh, no need to scuffle–”
–Randy: “All that ______ has made you ______!–”
“Hey, man, I cut you a break!” says Charley. “On multiple occasions! We’re friends!–”
–Bob: “What kind of thirty-eight (38) year old lives by himself at this day in age anyway!?–”
–Randy: “A FUCKING PISSED OFF ONE, THAT’S WHO!–”
“Randy, please. Now is not the time,” as he lets go of Amelia’s hand, slowly approaches Randy with his other hand out front–
“Remember what you told me,” he says. “About your grandmother?–”
–Randy, trembling: “She ended up a ______ in the end–”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you have to–”
–Amelia: “Malcolm, please–”
–Randy: “All it means is that I’m not a ______. And like everyone I’ve ever known at this point, including all of YOU, my grandmother only respects other ______–”
–Me: “That’s not true, man; you’re cool; you’re a _____ fan–”
“SEE!? –FUCK!” Randy stutters. “FUCKING ______! That’s not important! This is why we’re in the situation we’re in, you ______!” and he TURNS to point to gun at me–
–Me: “Hey, man, I read ______–”
–SKIRRRRRRRRRRRrrrRRTTTTTTTtttTtTT–
“FUCK ______!–”
“GET EM!–”
–SMASH!–
–CLANK!–
–BASH–
–BANG–
–POP!–
–POP!!–
–CLINNNNNGGGG–
–Crunch–
–SMASH!!!! (Hulk)–
–CLASH–
–BOOM!!!–
–SSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGGG–
–Our neighbor’s RV goes UP–
“KILL! ALL! ______–”
–Our group disseminates. Another house EXPLODES. They’re going for the gas lines; seems methodic. The ______ CHASE us. I reach a spot in our neighbor’s backyard with Charley, Karen, Stan, Brianna, and two (2) random kids–
–Stan shoots the two (2) ______ scaling the lawn with his shotgun–
–Their stomachs BURST–
–Amelia and Malcolm are a little slow. I guess Blake had some more important ‘philosophizing’ to do–
“SAY! ______! NAME!” the ______ SHRIEKS at them. “SAY! ______! NAME!”
–The other SHAKES Malcolm violently by the shoulder, SHOVES a gun deep into his forehead–
“SAY! ______! NAME!–”
“We don’t know what you mean,” Malcolm responds–
“SAY! ______! NAME!–”
–Amelia: “Malcolm, it’s alright–”
“SAY! ______! NAME!–”
–Malcolm: “But I don’t–”
“SAY! ______! NAME!–”
–Amelia: “Malcolm–”
“SAY ______ NAME!–”
–Amelia: “Sir, my name is–”
–The ______ POPS her in the face, point-blank–
–THWACK–
–A ten (10)-wheeler CRASHES into the U-Haul™, and seven (7) people JUMP out, shooting at the ______ before a full-blown city bus rolls up behind them–
“Get in!” the driver yells–
–Stan DARTS in that direction–
–Karen, Brianna, Charley, and the two kids follow. Across the street, Frank and a couple with their two (2) young kids do the same–
–A ______ spots me from across the fence in Frank’s backyard, where I’ve indeed hung out many-a-time, usually alone, smoking, taking my secret one (1)-person tango lessons, but the ______ is completely still. She puts a finger up like ‘ssshh’. I figure for a moment that the ______ might be hiding like me, forced into hiding until, hopefully, ‘it’ ‘stops’, and there’s still Hope in this future post-apocalyptic wasteland in which we’re about to ‘live’, and ‘die’, as if there’s any difference between the two (2). Then a ______ walks up, SHOOTS her in the knee and then TWICE in the stomach before JUMPING and STOMPING on her head like a FUCKING watermelon–
–I SPRINT to the bus–
–The driver PUNCHES the gas as I reach the door–
“Wait!” I yell–
“Dan!–”
–Frank holds out his hand through the door–
–I GRAB it–
–He PULLS me in as the bus hits a short stride, and I get a chance to look through the window. They have yet to hit Malcolm; don’t even notice him anymore. He’s alone, crying, on his knees at the wheels of his dear ______–
–We turn onto the main road–
“Blake’s been saying this was inevitable!” Frank says to me–
–Blake: “It’s not just a recent thing,” fairly calmly, actually, “this has been in the works since Vietnam, really since the founding of the country, if you think about it. When the founders refused to address the issue of slavery, they created the first two (2) distinct intellectual ‘classes’ of citizens: those against slavery, and those who at the very least didn’t have the gall to fight against it–”
–We’re standing next to the driver, CLASPING those poles above the seats there specifically for this purpose. The bus is PACKED. Everyone TALKS and STARES–most weep–and through the windows are burning houses, cars, and bodies. There are packets of ______ gathered at every corner, some bigger than others, and other packets of ______ fighting with them in other corners. Helicopters WHIRL overhead, sirens BLARE, EXPLOSIONS! EXPLODE!, and people SCREAM, as Blake talks with glee about what’s destroyed our way of life as humans over thousands of years–
“Think about it, bro! Even after a civil war, the two (2) could never be equal, as the founding of the country was fundamentally dishonest. No matter what the founders may have thought, or whatever else they may have done– it’s irrelevant. The fact that they let ______ slavery slide meant they were FULL OF SHIT, and people tend to get real pissed off when Responsible™ people are full of shit!–”
“Fuck yeah, dude!” yelps Frank–
–Blake: “Sooner or later, anger always wins! Unless you can get an entire population to think critically, of course, and good luck with that–”
–BAM–
–A bus-perpendicular RAMS us, and we TOPPLE over. The windows SHATTER. Glass gets STUCK in my arms and legs. Half the bus is CRUSHED; there’s blood everywhere–
–I crawl from underneath. We’re in the middle of this intersection reminiscent of the one Reginald Denny was BEATEN paralyzed during the LA riots of ‘94–
–No one alive from my bus is in view, though a few others have FLUNG from their seats, judging from the high number of severed limbs and other organs dispersed across the pavement. The other bus has FLIPPED as well. There’s a fire near its gas tank. No ______ are around. I can’t see Frank or Charley, nor their ______ bodies. I stand up, feel my phone in my pocket. My ankle must be sprained or something; hurt, but I can still walk–
–My elbow is five (5) inches out the skin–
–I PANIC. “IS THERE ANYBODY OUT THERE!?” I scream–
–I LIMP around the bus to see the Bus-Perpendicular at a better angle–
“IS THERE ANYONE ALIVE OUT THERE!?!?!?–”
–A pair of legs appears past the corner–
–I run to get a better view. The legs are a woman’s. She’s on her knees with her head in her hands–
“Brianna?” I hope–
–She’s at her parents lying CRUSHED under the bus–
–Her dad SPITS some blood, half a pint or so, maybe less–
–He POINTS at me–
“You…” he says as he SPEWS up some more blood, though likely less than a pint this time. “This is all YOUR fault!–”
–Me: “Me!?–”
“Yes! You and your ______–”
–The dude PROJECTILES at least a FULL pint of blood. Brianna closes her eyes, opens them up again–
–Finally, she stands with her dad CHOKING to death on himself just behind her–
“You should have never been born,” she says quietly. “You thought you were outside it, but it was all about you. The one who can live her life as though living were all she ever had to do–”
“Brianna, what are you talking about? I hate ______–”
“You LIE, ______! All you _____ conspire to ______, you’re all the same!–”
–The bus rolls over Stan and Karen like in a slowly sinking fishing boat–
–Brianna: “YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!!!–”
–A helicopter SWOOPS in maybe ten (10) feet (ft.) over Brianna’s head–
–Brianna: “YOU CAN’T KEEP LIVING AS THOUGH ‘WRITING THINGS DOWN’ DOES ANYTHING, IT ONLY MAKES PEOPLE ANGRY–”
–Me: “I NEVER WANTED TO MAKE ANYONE ANGRY–”
“BUT YOU HAVE! LOOK AROUND!!!”
–More ______ from the bus-perpendicular come out from under it. They’re joined by an arriving group of ______ quickly approaching from that direction–
“I JUST WANTED TO WRITE,” I plead–
“AND READ!!” Brianna responds–
–She whimpers–
“Take my hand!!” the Man-in-the-Helicopter™ says–
“They can never go together,” Brianna says almost to herself. “WE CAN NEVER DESERVE LIFE ANY MORE THAN WE MAY DEATH–”
–I keel over, SPIT some blood, grab a gun from a corpse on the ground. A SHOT goes off. I DUCK. ‘How did it get to this?’ My ______ rings–
–The helicopter dips. The ______ have infiltrated the cockpit–
–I look up–
–The Man-in-the-Helicopter™ is SHOT. Brianna unstraps the gun from the ______–
–Someone JUMPS atop the hood of the helicopter, tilting it the way of the bus, causing Brianna to lose the gun–
–The ______ reaches the cockpit, SHANKS the driver. The rotors of the helicopter SMASH one after another into the bus like an overworked clock, missing Brianna by a mere few inches–
–She REACHES and GRABS the gun again, POINTS it at me–
“______!” I SHOUT–
“______–”
***
MANIFESTO
–All these ______ ______ procuring ______ godheads-in-infinitudes assuming subjective-experience objective-reality alone, all Possibility for objective-emotion placated for this three-dimensional ‘reality’ we call the ‘world’. ‘Emotion’ is the ‘fact’ of subjective reality, ‘fact’: the ‘emotion’ of objective-perspective, or the specific objective Perspective of that reality. For us: there is no ‘perspective’, no Possibility, no creation, no ‘dream’. For us: there is only ______–
–This café is a hole. Who puts hot pink on two (2) walls, black on the third (3rd), and highlighter yellow with purple-and-brown polka dots on the half-blown-to-shit ceiling? It’s like a five-year-old ______ painted a patty-shack for Jeffrey Epstein ($200). Oh, sweet music! You who so despises me! Who so manipulates me, and yet protects me from your sweet array! Nothing is meant to last; everything does–
–A group of ______ runs up, FLIPS some tables, shoots some people–
“HEY, YOU!–”
–I BASH ______’s face in with my bike lock, BEAT the ______’s bloody noggin ‘til it’s more flesh than person; that’s the way everyone sees everyone else anyway–
“Nice ______,” ______ says–
–OG ______ SPITS some blood–
“______–”
–For as you believe no individual/collective to exist, we believe: we are each aghast at our capacity for ‘creation’, and so we are ______. Assuming complication/relationship the fundamental difference between ‘ontological’ concepts, and ‘ontology’ the study of ‘simple’ and ‘complex’ relations between simple and complex concepts of all dimensions and degrees, there is no subject to perceive as possible free-will any more than any focused collective objection may be observed in any world but one absolutely ‘predetermined’–
–For no ‘world’ perceived may be Absolute ‘absolutely’; subjective-perspective is the difference between ‘world’ and ‘universe’ (or ‘multiverse’, or ‘planet’, or ‘earth’, or any other objective clarification not attached to relational-subject), not objective-fact. Our ‘world’ is ‘ours’; ‘yours’ and ‘mine’ we call ‘reality’. That is the perspective of ______: the ‘world’ is infinitely complex, but ‘reality’ is as simple as up-and-down. We are each doomed to the Paradox, ‘individual’ and collective alike–
–A ______ throws a ______ ______ at the café register. It goes UP, and quickly spreads to the rest of the deck. “Talk about getting your money back,” some random ______ mumbles. You have devolved creation to the role of mere arbiter to ‘language’, rather than its natural ontological counterpart, assumed here given a similar level of complexity. You have done away with ontological-reasoning for want of this infinite ‘reality’ grounded inexorably in the idea that science and religion are directly opposed, when that is only the case through Philosophy (or: ‘relatively’, ontologically speaking). The ______ must ignore this complexity or else admit her own irrelevance, and ignorance to reality, for sake of simple politics; she must ignore Relationship as a whole or else actively involve herself as her own ontological-opposite, for the collective–in this view (and so: assumed more ontologically complex than the individual)–contains all relationship, which is obviously absurd this side of strictly spiritual circumstance; and so, ‘relatively-speaking’, grounded in the abstract (which of course politics is not, for politics focuses relations; the relations themselves and the concepts which they connect have already been focused from the abstract by the time they’ve reached politics, or any anti-‘spiritual’ concept [which is most] for that matter). Only the individual may Perceive ‘consciously’, the relation is ‘developed’, ‘experienced’, or ‘evolved’, from, or into (depending on where we are in-time) the abstract (or the pre-determined, or the Collective, for us ______). Only the Creative may see the subjective/objective between action and thought, because only a ‘creative’ person may see that specific relationship on its own terms, and so between collective/individual so far as action/thought regenerates into forms closer to Focus for perception–
–The ______ in my vision pass count; last I recall #LastRecall, I was at eighteen (18) and I didn’t know what I wanted. Nothing like notarizing the ‘dead’ to pass the time… (… ((…)…))… ‘Time’–dichotomized as the context under which life/death may serve as the fundamental-dichotomy for ‘perception’–may open the door to evolving-consciousness only so long as perspective is permitted to continue expanding upon the Possible ‘modes’ of perception (everything that is possible demands to exist –Leibniz). In other words: so long as perception evolves, so must perspective, and vice versa, though in the latter case only through individual/collective, whereas for the former: through the abstract. The paradox dictates all ‘possible-perspective’ for perception, said possibility–and so NOT perspective, nor the specific perception of such a Perspective but rather the ‘possibility’ of it–enabling its very distinction from the abstract enforced by Time in the first place. So, assuming the didactic reactionary wherein all concepts come down to ______, ‘tis THIS dialectic which has been so twisted and decreed ubiquitous by our opposing ______, for various, rather obvious, reasons–
–But WE do not believe our world to be so black-and-white, us mere ______, so ‘means-and-ends’, for we find the Relationship between black/white equally as necessary to put life into Focus then possible for ‘perception’. This is obvious. The ______ ignores baseline Perspective for sheer knowledge, as if there were no possibility AT ALL for any connection between the two (2), ‘complex’ or ‘simple’. If our world is but one-(1)-dimensional, with room enough only for single-minded dichotomies: ‘power’, the ultimate arbiter between simple concepts, must then always triumph, for there may be no abstract between simple concepts–
–Thus, the ______ stands by violence–power in-action–as though it were somehow complex before it were simple, juxtapositioning the dichotomy to one opposed to the reality we see around us which places complexity as evolutionarily ‘later’ in ‘time’ than simplicity (as it takes more ‘time’ for something to become ‘complex’, or to understand a complex concept versus a ‘simple’ one, etc.). Only consciousness makes the Individual; the Collective may affect her only subconsciously; the individual perceives Reality, makes from it our ‘world’, and including even any such ‘reality’ potentially understood by both the Collective and the Individual ‘herself’! The collective may only ever be subconscious. She may affect the Consciousness–even absolutely–but she is still at least one step removed from perception, placing her ontologically less complex than the individual, as all complex dichotomies remove one concept as more or less complex in at least one ontological contest (the more contexts in which the meter shifts, the more complex the Dichotomy). As such, this ‘collective’ is far more difficult to ‘act’ upon, compared to such ‘individual’, if that action is even possible at all, ontologically speaking, given that only ‘consciousness’ may act, and which is not to mention the simple fact that this ‘thinking’, this exfoliated ______ ‘process’ of categorizing ‘identity’ in place of existence for complex-alleviation, is not real, it is out-of-time, lost in that demented abyss the ______ so conveniently calls confirmation bias– You FOOLS! To be ‘in-time’ is to perceive ‘time’ both objectively and subjectively, in all its variations; it is to both recognize, and act within, the inherently subjective ‘subconscious’ nature of the context of this world that is that Potentiality for absolute-objectivity; that ability to act in the world as one perceives it. You swindle, and steal, and purchase your own confusion at the same ‘cost’ for which you alienate your own inevitable intellectual existence! You slave to your base instincts as a dog follows its own nose off a cliff! The Consciousness cannot maintain itself without both a ‘primal’ survival instinct AND an ‘intellectual’ one (1). We are accustomed to the thinking of beasts, but it is no longer suitable intellecto-evolutionarily–
–And so Reality turns, and spins, and CIRCLES, and the ______ succumbs to the basic knowledge that she has ______ that somehow that makes her ‘special’, that ‘history’ is as linear as time is metaphysical, and that Science must triumph over Religion to no similar avail; she cannot understand the Paradox as both abstract and real simultaneously (subjectively/objectively) because she is incapable of understanding through that context (that being ‘time’); her only recourse in curbing the Radicalism dependent upon her ability to accept them potentially as equals, which she will never do–
–A ______ sits at a table across the smoke and the head-high line of fire the ______ have left. Big, BOLD glasses with a mid-sized, ______-colored hair get-up in a diamond formation, and shoes somehow shinier than either. How do you think ______ like ‘her’ are created? They’re primal survivors, not intellectual ones; they can’t see their involvement in the Evolution any more than you can see your deliverance from it. She uses intellect only so far as it furthers her own primal survival, because she believes ‘primacy’ to be superior to intellect, instead of merely necessary for its own existence, which is the reality. You and the ______ are equally incapable of recognizing the Paradox, for you both cling to a simple world for simple minds with Simple concepts in ‘simple’ terms. You argue for science as a tool, not a perspective, nor even a thought /> let alone an action–
–For you have masked the complexity for mere ‘simplicity’, and so have ignored all possibility for ‘relationship’ completely, subsequently falling victim to its most prominent interlocutor… Oh yes! Sweet anger! Our ______! Our ______ ______!! We may never act, nor make judgment, without your brisk, elegiac poison! For anger is the emotion of action, and only action may do battle with thought–
–Such a misplacement of ‘anger’ for ‘love’ may serve as the delusion necessary for any intellect to understand itself, for ‘love’ is the sole transcendent emotion in the same way the ‘abstract’ is the sole transcendent fact. You believe you’re making the argument that all people be treated equally, with all the faith in (the) ______ as is possible, yet you simultaneously exemplify the exact opposite: that you are smarter, more caring, funnier, more loving, more empathetic, and more traumatized than your dissenting ______–
–For to ______, all ‘people’ are but the mere sum of their anger, and their ______, their ______ orientation, their skin ______, and their trauma. Forgive us for not bowing to your blind consumerism as if intellect could ever be held to such blithe, anti-complex, standards! ______ bless us for not succumbing to ‘progress’ as the sole ‘intellectual-evolution’ opposed meekly to evolution itself! You are the ______ who refuse personal identity for one Understood only in comparison; you are the ______ who CLINGS solely to ______ even as she SPITS hyperboles for memorandums into your face and your pores, your eyes, your nose, and your ears–
–The fire has reached the gas line. What a joke. Its heat bubbles the stickers on my laptop. The aforementioned ______ from across it is gone, her table since CRUSHED by the fallen ceiling on that side of the café. Maybe she was under it… What did the ‘multiverse/universe’ look like before ______ was subjugated to the whims of a species which refused to condemn its pageantry? When may ______ understand that avoiding apocalypse is only possible ontologically; ‘dystopia’ only another word for the simple-dichotomy apocalypse/utopia, and therefore no more contemptible than the simple passage-of-time itself? When may The Ontological Paradox™ make itself as explicit to ‘reality’ as ‘life’ is to the world? When the fires BURN in the hearts of men as high as in this café!? When may death be understood ‘complexly’ rather than solely ‘simply’? When ‘man’ transcends ‘death’ for all its worth and nothing less!?–
–You ______ have thought we’d gotten over the paradox. You ______ have thought you’d understood it, or at least understood the need to Understand it; you ______ may have thought ______’d come to a place where love supports all else as relatable, and not merely ‘compatible’, but you are wrong. For all we see today is misunderstanding, ‘simplicity’, and death for its own sake, even when that death is ‘judged’ for all the ‘life’ it left behind, and so much more…
–______ used to think there were more who understood, who recognized the abstract as just that–as ‘abstract’–and so nothing worth fighting, or worse destroying, our ‘lives/deaths’ over, but ______ were fools–
–______ are fools to believe our world may ever get over ______–
***
MANIFESTO
–SHOOT ______ in the FACE; ______ ______ POPS like ______–
–Another ______ SCREECHES–
–We BATTER the ______ ______ to the ______ ______ like ______. ______ ______–
“AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA–”
–Another ______ runs up. OG ______ ______ is on the ground, SHRIEKS as we ______ ______ and the ______ ______ blood ______ SPLATTERS ______ across ______ ______ torso–
–We POP the ______ in the ______–
“We are ______”–
–We turn to OG ______
“______!” we SCREAM–
–We GRAB ______ ______ lapels and ______ ______ in the ______–
“______!–”
–______: “______!–”
–We ______ ______ ______ in the ______–
–Blood ______ our torso, arms, and HIPS–
“______!–”
“______!–”
–A ______ CHARGES–
“______!” we YELL–
“______!–”
“______ ______!–”
–AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA–
–______–
–We KNEEL on our other knee, ‘WHIP OUT’ our handy-dandy Beretta Px4 Storm, catch ______ in the occipital–
–New-G ______: “______!–”
“______ ______ ______ ______–”
–______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______–
–We SHOOT the ______ in the ______–
–Blood, ‘Pus’, and OOZE paints our legs like Carrie White’s–
–______ ______ ______ ______–
“______ ______!–”
–SHOOT ______ in the ______–
“______!–”
–______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______–
“NICE ENTRAILS, ______!–”
“______, ______!–”
–______ ______ ______ ______ ______–
–______ spits–
–We STAB ______ with the knife just under the temple, HOLD it there–
“______–”
–______–
“DIE!!!–”
–We STAB and STAB and STAB and STAB and STAB and STAB…
“______ ______!!–”
“______!–”
“______!–”
–______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______–
–______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______–
“______ ______,” ______ ______–
–______ ______–
“______”–
***
MANIFESTO
–All in the name of ______, we Judge–
–All in the name of ______, we ascend the stairs of Reason, for She is our last remaining recourse to Violence–
–All in the name of ______, we resent your pleas to ‘listen’, because only the Weak deny the action to-learn–
–All in the name of ______, we believe ‘essence’ the only essence–
–All in the name of ______, we Eulogize the subconscious–
–All in the name of ______, we take ownership over empathy–
–All in the name of ______, we Rule over history–
–All in the name of ______, we embody Unconscious-______–
–All in the name of ______, we Understand genetics, and all with which it is ontologically confounded–
–All in the name of ______, we FIGHT against all forms of tyranny, including the Tyranny behind critical-thought–
–All in the name of ______, we equate technical-fact with Emotion, and so find emotion to forever triumph, for ‘technical-fact’ has no relation but to ______–
–All in the name of ______, ‘fact’ prevails Absolutely–
– All in the name of ______, we Command our world–
–All in the name of ______, we denounce love, for no world may spin round in spite of evil–
–All in the name of ______, we decry the very word ‘evil’, for no sense of ‘world’ may ‘exist’, if not for her…
–All in the name of ______, we decry the concept ‘individualism’, for only the individual may be violent–
–All in the name of ______, may ‘fact’ transcend emotion–
–All in the name of ______, we FIGHT for ‘peace’–
–All in the name of ______, we Understand peace–
–All in the name of ______, we constitute ‘death’, its entire being, its entire ‘soul’–
–All in the name of ______, we die, ‘misunderstood’–
–All in the name of ______, ______–
–All in the name of ______–
–All in the name of ______.