A place for a


What is a delusion? Past reality or genetic memory?

The doctors think I am schizophrenic, because it seems bizarre that I would get into a fight with a cop. So, am I? Well, I think I actually am. That is, I think that the extended definition that spans three papers fits me often enough. But so do some personality disorders.

Is schizophrenia a firm thing that the definition hints at or is the definition the thing itself? For example, there are intuitive concepts like an honest smile that healthy people will recognize as a distinct thing while mentally impaired may not.

Schizophrenia is, first and foremost, a word.

Is schizophrenia like a smile? A distinguishable aura that healthy people clearly see? Or is it a rather nebulous concept used whenever something a person says or does seems bizarre? I can clearly see how my behavior seems bizarre to an outsider. And yet, from my own standpoint, it seems almost perfectly logical.

Without wasting time about the question of whether schizophrenia is a real thing, let me just ask: What are delusions?

I have two or three ideas.

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The fallacy of common virtues

Since my latest meditations, there has developed a strong distaste in me towards a component of manosphere articles. It is the discussion of common virtues and morals and ways for a society to be. I will try to put my revulsion into words.

First off, my single greatest argument from a more solid and confident personality perspective is: Why the fuck do you care how anybody else lives? Why do you not simply live your life the way you want it while leaving alone the people you dislike?

You men in the manosphere often state that nobody owes you anything. Fine. Then why are you still discussing politics? Why are you still discussing matters that concern anybody’s life but your own? You are hypocrites. You use the phrase nobody owes you anything to justify pushing your own demands down other people’s throats and silencing their protest. If they protest, they are being difficult and throwing temper tantrums. But how about applying that mindset to yourself? Nobody owes you anything. That is right: You can make no demands on anybody, ever; neither can you have any expectations towards anybody. The logical and universal consequence of this belief; anything else must cause severe cognitive dissonance.

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Is waterboarding torture?

This article has been originally published on Return Of Kings.

It’s been some time since waterboarding was in the public eye, so I’m not in the trend right now. Nevertheless, emotionalism and human rights are topics that persist like a chronic disease. Kids who drown in comfort seek escape from boredom by meaningfully protesting against something in the streets of big cities. Every week I am at least once bound to be harassed by zealots of some good cause.

My Facebook feed happened to spit out a joke about waterboarding today and I got curious. For a topic that attracts such huge amounts of verbal incontinence, few people seem to know anything about it. Fat slobs or experts who don’t seem to have much experience with pain go around telling everybody how inhumane it is, so that everybody can be part of being against something so terrible they lack the words to describe it.

But anyway, what much is there to know about waterboarding for such a deep, intellectual discussion? It’s not black magic. You need a can of water, a cloth and you need to lie down. What the hell keeps me from trying this?

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Why do you hold on to false beliefs?

Every day I go outside to buy food, I am afraid that my bank card may no longer work. I have a lot of outstanding taxes to pay, but I can not and want not. Fuck that mafia. I have no energy to work. No, rather, I want to focus on healing. I have enough money to survive for another five months and maybe I can sell some stuff. I will be in trouble with the tax office and likely have to file bankruptcy. My secondary bank account is already frozen.

But I know that I will survive long enough to finish my healing. I know that even if I can not pay anymore, my house owner will likely let me live here for another three months or so. I know that even if I lose the flat and all my stuff, I will still have the energy to regain all that has been lost once my mind is healthy again – if I will care to. And besides, it is just stuff.

So why do I care? Why do I feel this intense anxiety about it all?

Why do I have no abundance mindset? I already wrote about the problems of adapting new mindsets.

I meditated about this fear. About my doubts. About not being productive. About being a loser and all that shit. Why do I care?

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U.S. Navy: The false dream of serving the country

Do you consider joining the Navy to become a man? Or a patriot? This is the story of a dude who became a Submarine Warfare Officer at the U.S. Navy and grew disillusioned about the organization.

Like me, he is a dude without a father, if in a different way. I only know him from the internet, but I like his writing, thus I asked him to write down this story.

I can not vouch for the accuracy of the story and neither can he, as he wants to stay anonymous. Thus, take this with a grain of salt. I am inclined to trust him, as I can empathize with his perspective, the perspective of an unflinching refusal to sucker up to authority. This makes it an interesting read for me and maybe for you, as it allows one to see past the usual blindfold.

Having no personal experience with the military, I will just leave the rest of the story uncommented and open for your personal judgment.

Despite the compact writing style, it is quite lengthy, so you may want to set aside some special time for this read.


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Disobey the police – Part 1: Biking without lights

In an older article, I suggested disobeying the police as an outlet for aggression and rebellious sentiments. The first times I did it, I was ashamed and felt like a little kid who is doing something stupid. The more I do it, the more I am convinced that I am perfectly right and the cops are really just stupid bullies. Here is what happened today.

I was riding the bike home from a visit in the forest.

It was night, but inside the city – Munich – the streets are very well lit, so I never use lights. Also, I ride without using my hands most of the time. Why? Simply because I can.

I pass a few coppers. There is a lot of them in the area. I leave the bikeway towards the walkway and ask a group of cops what is going on. They tell me it is a demonstration. Ah, right, thanks. I drive on. A normal human interaction.

I continue on the bikeway and pass a few groups of policemen.

Eventually, I approach a larger group and a particularly tall moron decides to stand in my way. I give him a clear look that communicates dude, you are in my way.

He keeps blocking my path and says: Biking without lights and hands, that is a no-no.

Annoyedly, I ask: Why?

He says: Because it is forbidden to drive without hands.

I say: Who says so?

He says, with his trained indifferent authority voice: I am telling you that it is.

I say, clearly and loudly and with slight anger: I do not give a damn fuck about you. There is enough light and I am a skilled biker. I am making sure not to endanger anyone and that is all I care about.

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The taboo of non-existent parental love

Yeah, I know. If those people in the picture above were real farmers, their clothes would have holes, the fabric would probably be significantly fibrillating and they would be dirty. What you see here are just stupid actors.

Actors play out ideals. How it should be.

My mother claims she loves me more than any woman ever will. I do not believe her, because I do not feel loved. I do not love her.

My father is a rather distant, if sympathetic guy. He was not around when I grew up and he never expressed any kind of emotion towards me. I deeply wish that he would tell me he loves me.

But what if he does not? Hell, everybody keeps dribbling deep down, you love your mother. The truth is: Deep down, I want to massacre her. It is the law and a vague gratitude for my life that keeps me from doing it.

Just because you love your mother or because you made a mistake in renouncing her, that does not mean the same applies to me.

But these are the things nobody talks about. It is so unspeakable that people rather keep pretending to love each other their whole lives than to face the excruciating shame of emotional realities.

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What if your body is your soul?

Imagine a spirit world. How does it look? How does it feel? How does it sound? Can you imagine these things by any other means than the perceptions you know? If you expect the spirit world to feel – in some aspect – like the real world -, then how can the spirit world – in any sense – be fundamentally different from the world you live in?

And if you accept that, how could you possibly distinguish between the two?

Feel anxiety in your chest? Science tells us that it is a lack of blood due to fight or flight. The root of our emotions and perceptions is physical. So how could we feel or perceive anything without physicality? And if we accept physicality in the spirit realm, how can we then expect anything but the exact same physicality there, with all its consequences? For any anomaly or abberation is bound to upset the functioning of your physical body and thus your emotions.

Clarity, happiness, reason, values, they are all functions of your physical self.

Why do we keep searching for our soul anywhere but in the obvious place? Right in the place where god put it for us to find: Right in front of our eyes.

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Should you go on a rampage? – Part 4: Alternatives

For me personally, going on a rampage is not a real option at the moment. I just do not want to die. And I want to eventually fuck all these problems in the ass and then get some. But anyway, what are some alternatives to starting to run around killing people?

Your background and preferences may be completely different to mine. I do not know. Frankly, I have not considered it. Maybe you read my first article and think I am a loser who can tell you nothing. Well, I can understand that. No offense taken.

Anyway, here are some ideas for alternative ways to deal with the rage. If that is your motivation. Which I assume, because – as mentioned in the first part – this is not an article for psychopaths who do it for fun. Which I can intellectually understand, but it is not who I am. If that is who you are, my thoughts are meaningless to you.

Some of the following tips are based on my own experiences, others are based on hearsay and speculation.

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Should you go on a rampage? – Part 3: Possible outcomes

Now we have had them all in the pictures. The militaristic freak, the gangster and now the office monkey. I guess I left out the goth and the nazi and probably a lot more. Well, you can not have it all in live, assholes.

So, I wrote about myself and my life, about motivations and societal hypocrisy. But what could be the actual outcomes of a rampage? What could you get out of it for yourself? What do you hope to get out of it.

The answer seems really simple: Release. Catharsis.

Finally, the things that needed to be said are being said. It just feels right, necessary, unavoidable. But once you cross that line, where will you actually find yourself? Do you want to go there?

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