History doesn't repeat, but it does rhyme

It is not baseless accusation to compare Trump to Hitler; he is the rhyming couplet of the Holocaust.

Ghouls have written our history

Victors do indeed write the history books, but they know that to tell the true story would be self-incrimination, so they lie. Their history, preached as gospel in the schools, is empty and false. It is nothing more than the boasting of racists and murderers.

Who are these victors? They aren't human. They traded away their empathy in the soulless calculus of capitalism and empire in order to climb the ladder. No one reaches the top of that ladder without becoming something less than human, a ghoul whose first instinct is not to help others, but to use them. Their only languages are money, power, and lies, so it is only fitting that they write the historical narrative in such language. Their world is so small and fetid in its emptiness that they cannot imagine anything greater than the empires they have built, so they interpret every critique of their right to rule an expression of treason.

We do not take this abuse lying down, of course not! We protest, write reports, give sermons, march in numbers, teach, and speak that we may be heard.

But the ghouls do not speak this language. Every time we speak truth to power, we make an appeal to hearts that are no longer there. Their minds are too small and brutish to comprehend the legitimacy of our arguments for equality, but they know on some primal level that equality is anathema to what little comfort and pleasure they still feel as they rot away, their connection to humanity severed by the walls of palaces they forced us to build for them. They do not listen. They will never listen. They are no longer us, and to write a historical narrative based in truth, we must see these creatures for what they are and treat them as such.

So what can we do? The clock is ticking and our full strength is still unknown to us, but we can refine our strategies such that we orient ourselves towards not asking for equality, but taking it. This the ghouls will understand. They speak the language of power and force; our conversation with them will never move forward until we begin to speak in their chosen tongue.

Trump, Michael Bloomberg, Boris Johnson, Rodrigo Duterte, Jair Bolsonaro, Jeffery Epstein and all those he catered to, the rich and the corrupt, the 1%, the capitalist ruling class that is so obviously out of touch with the lived experience of humanity....they aren't human. The sooner you realize this, the clearer our situation will become.

I will no longer give respect to their remaining veneer of human dignity. I will no longer empathize with them, because their own lack of empathy is inflicting violence on innocent people. I will no longer recognize the Imago Dei in them, for they have renounced it already. From now on, I call them what they are.

Inhuman. Ghouls. Monsters.

Only with this in mind can we begin to write humanity's true history.

I want to be remembered

Something has been on my mind lately.

When you pick up a history book (or any textbook, really), there are names of people who contributed to the discourse, who added something, whose insights made them part of their field of study forever. Their voices will always be heard. They will not be forgotten. Reinterpreted or critiqued, maybe, but not forgotten.

You read about these people and you get to know him. Their lives are documented. What they liked and disliked is recorded, what they hoped and dreamed is saved for posterity, their importance not only known, but felt.

We live now in an age where there are so many voices, so many brilliant people, all struggling to be heard over the din of the discourse. We're also entering a moment in history when the very notion of "great people" is problematic. In the world we are fighting to create, no one will be more important than another.

But..I want to be remembered. I want my voice to resonate with the future. One of my greatest fears is that everything I've gone through, everything I've learned, all the things I want to add to the discourse that needs to be heard...it's all being done by people whose voices are louder than mine. They're also more skilled than me. Every time I open my mouth to speak, I find that someone else has spoken those very words much more eloquently than I would have.

Everything I've learned, every insight I've struggled to gain, is a small whimper in a thunderstorm. No one will remember me for my ideas. I will leave behind no legacy, and but for a few people dear to me, I will be forgotten. No one will ever read about me the way students read about Kierkegaard. Nothing that came from the core of who I am will contribute to the betterment of humanity.

Will God notice? Will the universe keep me in its memory after I'm gone? Will my passing be noted at all? Am I egoistic for crying over this in a time of unprecedented global suffering, when so many others have it worse than me?

I feel so small.

Hideo Kojima once created a character called Solidus, who became an important part of my childhood. He said:

"All I want is to be remembered by other people, by history...what is our legacy if we cannot pass the torch? Proof of our existence, a mark of some sort..."

I want there to be proof to future generations that I lived.

A challenge for you

In the coming weeks and months, there will be a demonization of rioters and direct action. The normies who still don't know the truth of our collective situation will be frightened.

This moment in history is an opportunity to show the world that class and racial solidarity combined are unstoppable.

So my challenge to you is simply this: talk about this to at least one person you know. Truth can be contagious, let it spread.

Life's Storms

Life is good. In fact, it's very good, but it is not without its storms to weather. Now I very much like storms, I love sit through them and witness them in their entirety, but only because I have a safe place to call my home and sanctuary.

If I did one good thing with my life, it was this: I recognized how blessed I am, but also how miserable others are. Not everyone has a shelter. Only after this did I begin to understand what it means to be ethical and empathetic in the 21st century.

American "Freedom"

America was founded on a perversion of the word "freedom." More often than not, "freedom" meant "freedom from without, freedom from constraints." Moreover, it was a perversion of freedom with classist oppression at its core: the freedom is for the ruling class, and when they wrote their pretty little Constitution, they wrote it with only themselves in mind.

The greatest trick is that America has painted itself as a proponent of freedom when it was only ever about the freedom of the abuser to abuse.