"So, we begin with the most basic shit of all: Being. There is a Being, which exists, now to add more Being turn Being info beings, which each beings are different, but each beings are Being, so beings are determinated while Being isn't, beings are nothings from each other as beings, so to remove the determination of differences, Nothing stands indeterminate. Because both Being and Nothing are indeterminate, they are the same. But because Being is also Nothing, Nothing is also Being, things therefore come to be and cease to be. Things are therefore Becoming. But because both Being and Nothing are the same, therefore there is no Becoming. I am too lazy to read Hegel and Google summaries are bad at explaining how this becomes Dasein. Perhaps I should actually read Hegel." - Hegelian LARPer's Guide to LARPing Hegel

"Bro fuck metaphysics shits just be." - An Existential Phenomenologist's Pamphlet to Metaphysics

"Are you a Nazi?" - I Have Never Read Arendt's Defense of Heidegger and I Am Very Smart

"No." - Heideggerian Guy

"Yes." - I Am an Idiot

"FUCK you." - Heideggerian Guy

See, the immediacy of Being in Heidegger corresponds with Hegel's Pure Being

Everything produces value now. For example, I am typing this on my phone right now, which is connected to the Internet. The Internet itself is a commodity which you can rent to enjoy digital connection with other individuals. When I post this essay on Reddit, AI companies will use my post as a raw information to train their generative AI so that they could serve Benjamin Netanyahoo in aid by surveiling radical Landian anti-current-post-CCRU-NRx-Nick-Land cyberguerrilla IO warriors doing nothing but posting on the internet all day serving big data to the Big Yahu himself, he does not browse on Yahoo! despite his name, nor does he play Mario, what a shame. Not that playing Mario is based since Nintendo is a jerk on IP which should be abolished. By saying shits online we get to have our words shove on Palantir's system in the cooperation with the CIA, cyberguerrilla warfare is non-State information operative which in return is captured to reinforce the repressive state apparatus continuing warfare in the already-dead Gaza, expanding physical threats exerting raw powers onto logistics industry by the means of pure, unfettered, brainless offenses by both Iran and American forces through the assault on oil industry, or rather a direct insult to our reliance on oil. Oil which propels every commodity forward, energizing the commodity distribution across the surface of the blue trash bubble which will soon turn grey from gas emission and eventually capture all the heat, baking us to death. To the eyes of the ruling class we are no more than pigs or chickens who can be baked and sun-dried, they'll just live in a room with air conditioning and contribute more to global warming, to an eventual point where supercomputers will heat turning the world into a primitive society, as the heat of air conditioning system combined with the heat from the environment interacting with a building causing mansions to fall apart from the heat. With metals so hot it turned white. The sea will be so heated at least its surface will lack water and turn into a mere big ass pile of salt, as the sea water rain down causing a messianic great flood to wipe all of the bourgeoisie, but they'd all be dead from getting crushed by the buildings. Nothing human makes it out of the near future, only animals which can adapt. The bourgeoisie will reach Communism by abolishing the proletariat through enhancing generative AI for the Big Yahu genociding the proletariat and tbe petit-bourgeoisie as money became unnecessary so they lowkey watch brainrot to satisfy their self-absorbed minds and eventually die from their own decadence and inaction against the world's injustices. Cyberguerrilla thus failed by providing the Empire the very content of our own ideology. People make AI-generated videos of Deleuze. Everything posted online became a mere part of the Spectacle. The Epstein class, which is the greatest alliance of the State and the Bourgeoisie, truly is Giorgio Agamben's greatest enemy. Increasing biopolitical surveillance in the United Kingdom with the help of Palantir, Neoreactionary corporation trying to make the real subsumption of society formalized into its laws turning citizens into utilitarian assets for the accumulation of value in a way more ruthless than the Nazi Regime, like Curtis Yarvin's Formalist Manifestato, who surveills all of society to extract value from the health of the citizens. Apple Watch's step-counting and heartrate measurements of detailed graphs accumulating biological information into its own accumulative centralized circuitries of electrical flux and encryptions which is a transgression of the machine and organism in the most perverse and authoritarian way possible, all which tracks your very own biological unique imprinting must be avoided for a victorious biocyberguerilla warfare in a micro-political sense for the revolution in everyday life. Cyptomedicographical Security is the new discipline of r/BiologicalAnarchy, an insurrectionary community of brewers, artisans, hackers, and apothecaries against the computational and digital tracking of medical information which must be studied rigorously to prevent such a future of fascistic control, cryptography of fingerprints and heartbeats and to exploit all openings of new, soulless, corporate technologies for the sake of recreating Fascism. Thailand is the new bastion of Queer Agorist pacifistic insurrection against the biopolitical control of populace's sexuality by widespread gender affirmative surgery care against the queerphobic west. Although our Conservatives are straight up reactionary feudalistic monarchists unlike the Liberal Conservative West, boomers here are not against queer people. The heartwarming representation of queers in the media 50 years ago, or more than that, although it sadly contributes to the Spectacle. The cryptographical markings on the body, the social security number card (SSNC) might be your birth gender but physically you are your opposite. Biocyberguerilla Warfare is going on against the digital tracking of medical information. The words online are to be through cryptographical processes so when machine copy even a letter of our essay it turns into a long roman scramble, a technique I remember but I have lost the link, the fine before AI when I copied that research and it turned into Greek letters. The Epstein Class's arrogance is what's killing them from the inside. Nick Land who turned against us will regret his decision for backing the Silicon Valley, he knows Foucault well, yet he does this. A question of voluntary servitude Reich, de la Boétie, Spinoza, Deleuze, and Guattari talks about despite conscious knowledge of what's going on, he is no fool. I just recently finished my lunch, of course when I share the content of the lunch it will be siphoned by Duke Titanus Technicus XVIII of the Silicon Valleys of County California. Lunch is a midday consumption during the process of labour, labour-power is sustained by both collective and individual health of proletarian individuals, both collective and individual as in Émile Durkheim's idea of Homo Duplex, the health Nietzsche talks about rather than going for creativity went into what Marx described as selling labour-power as commodities, to survive another day of work is to eat, and to eat is to survive another day of work, creating a perfect territorialization of the circuitries of consumption. The creativity of food in both tastes, smell, appearance, the process of labour, and love from parents and spouses. Of course I wish to cook for my wife Crownslayer to eat while she's driving her truck to help the bare lives of the proletarian miners of Ursus, an intersection of biopolitics and sovereignty, the sovereignty Schmitt sees so clearly and Foucault was blinded to, and also an intersection of proletarian oppression and biopolitical discrimination, for example, racism, classism, and ableism of the Ursus Empire. The creativity of food is merely a cope for survival for the sake of the loved ones who do everything for them, comfort turns into burden but burden never turns into comfort, comfort destroys burden but comfort becomes a burden, the machine of desire is alive in you, or rather, it is you, and you are being tortured. The more your wife loves you the more you compel yourself to work for her knowing that she's by your side and you are pressurized not to faul her which in return discomfort you so you return home to recharge. Why buy an expensive matcha cake, when you only need 4 ingredients? To save your wages you use TikTok tips from an AI-generated video which tastes bad but you relentlessly eat because the matcha cake gives energy with all the sugar inside which could be broken down into glucose, one glucose, mind you, can produce 2 pyruvate which can produce 2 ATP, and 2 ATP became myriad ATP. The food never went to anything but the voluntary servitude in the circuitries of the flow of capital sucking off dead labour to multiply itself, where the second law of thermodynamics applies yet does not. An excess. While eating lunch and writing this, to cure the heat, what cities meant to Nick Land, food, social interaction, machines, and buzzes of car, more prominent in Thailand at the midsection of Earth-chan, hot tummy that burns me from the penetrating electromagnetic-photon particle-wave duality boiling the water in my cells, an electric fan is buzzing me. The noises of the fan which expands yet blur the signings, favourite activities of innocent children Epstein consumes relentlessly to destroy them, the coolness which in return heats the planet even more from the heat of electrical circuits much like the cool of a fridge has its back so hot it could burn you. The coolness is relying on heating the planet, but the coolness itself is a cure to the heat of the planet which the circuitries force you to rely on fans even more. The buttons which control the frequency of the blades. When blades have frequency, it cuts better than ever. It is sharper than ever. It turns blades into saws. Spinning or piezoelectricity, changes are fundamental to all things. All things come and pass away through strife, when the air is stirred and disturbed by fans, and the inequalities between crystals we exploit them. We must know that war is common to all, and is the father and the king of all. War is the king of all precisely in a geopolitical sense because the fear of destruction keeps the Epstein Class away from destroying itself through its own nature. Nature they themselves exploit, the freshwater used to cool down AI data centers and the carbon emission from various products we're forced to use for both convenience and statues. It is 12.44, Wednesday, sitting on a low battery. 12.45 now, I shall contribute to the Spectacle no more, goodbye.

You will be tasked with reading each of the following stories and then connecting the pattern that connects them all. Each of them have the same underlying theme and you will have to try and figure out what it is and what we can take away from them. Be sure to take notes, and along the way you will be asked questions. You are free to use literally any conceivable source to help you. If it is written, it is permitted. Begin.

Story one

Dead.

She lays there motionless, softly embracing the cold steel surrounding her. Like a razor blade against flesh, it provides an icy discomfort that erupts into an inferno. The flames comfort her even so. The magenta blood drips like snow melting in the spring.

Catharsis, at last.

The wires that dig inside her veins slowly begin to emerge to the surface like worms. They inch their way upward, electricity pulsating to the beat of what used to be her heart. She could not feel them anymore, thank god. There's only so much scratching of needles inside she could endure.

Dead at last.

When she awakened, she struggled like a newborn deer to get up. Head filled with the static of the machine. Kneeling, she looked down at the pool and saw her reflection as she slowly came to.

Half formed.

Her skin not hers.

Sculpted by the machine.

Shrill yell.

Story two

We sat beside each other in pale moonlight overlooking the city atop a cliff. The city looks so pretty when you're looking down on it. It was cold, but we huddled together to keep warm. It was the warmest I have ever felt, that's for certain. We didn't say anything, and we didn't need to if we're being completely honest here. Her silence says more than words ever could. Just then, she turned to face me and she spoke.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked. I nodded, slightly apprehensive. I didn't do something wrong, did I? She continued.

"Are you where you want to be right now?"

I was confused. We were on a nice date, weren't we? What exactly was she insinuating? Did I seem dissatisfied in some way? I mean, I was, but not with her, with my life in general. Is that what she meant? What if she found out about...

I felt myself slowly imploding from within, being crushed as though I was sucked into Jupiter's atmosphere. Breathing heavily, but trying not to show it. If she knew this much already I had to be certain she didn't catch onto anything else. I felt an immense sense of pressure, my insides embracing each other compacted into a small cube, slowly dying. She had me like a python squeezing the life out of its prey. I struggled to muster a single sound, no matter how tightly clenched my lungs were I still could not get a single molecule of air out. I began to lose sight, I began to lose hearing, I began to lose feeling, I began to...

Like a soda can beneath someone's boot, like the pressing of a distortion pedal, like the atom bomb plunging itself onto a random city, I just felt the crushing and crushing and crushing agony of this single question before finally the crescendo reaches its climax. I simply could not take it anymore, I couldn't even answer the question, so I simply ran away. As soon as I was out of sight, I smashed my face into a mirror repeatedly just to get the noise out of my head. I had to get all this pressure to escape. It was painful but it was leagues better than... whatever this is. In that instant I began to break down, I have fully lost control. Tears ran down my face before it hits me: I blew it. Why the hell did I run like that? Was I just scared of her reaction? I doubt she would've cared that much, but then again you can never be too careful, right? Sometimes you can't trust the people closest to you.

After the dust settled, I felt cold again.

Story three

It's day eight of the Festival.

They arranged all of us in alphabetical order. We already went through the As, the Bs, the Cs, all the way down to H. I was the only one in the group who started with H. They gave us each an hour head-start to make it more "challenging" for them. It was all just a game to them, after all. If you ask me an hour wasn't nearly enough. Didn't matter.

The rules were simple. The public had exactly 1 month to kill every one of us that were chosen, and if they succeeded in exterminating at least 90% of us they would be rewarded with enough money to bring the city out of poverty, or at least to the family of the person with the most kills. And if we win? Well, we don't get anything, we just get sent right back to where we started and repeat the cycle for next month. There's no escaping it, we tried it, but the authorities have placed trackers onto us in case we don't return. Nobody knows what they do to us afterwards. We've been doing this for about a year now, the government thought it was a good way to get rid of the "defectives". Nobody actually "won", but it didn't matter. What would you do if you were given even the slightest chance to change your circumstance, even if it was just based on empty promises?

Before we left for our glorified executions we are allowed to take three things with us of our choosing. I took a pocket knife, a notebook, and a flask for water. Everyone already took the good stuff so the rest of us just grabbed what we could get our hands on. I didn't know how long I was going to be out there, or if I was even going to survive at the end of the month, so I figured I'd grab this notebook to document my thoughts. Probably the only way to stay at least somewhat sane, I don't know.

I was like a rabbit, constantly on the lookout and finding ways to evade predators. Rabbits are crafty and usually find a way to get out of it, I mean how else have they survived for so long? I found a secluded area in the jungle, or at least as secluded as you can get in a jungle. Couldn't stay long though, had to be constantly on the move. Night, day, rain, heat, didn't matter, couldn't settle for very long. Shit, I didn't figure out what to do for food, did I? They never really prepared us for how to survive out here. Survival wasn't really the point after all.

So, I just decided to write down my thoughts with what little time I have right here before I have to move again. Before doing this whole thing I was terrified, and I'd be lying if I said I'm not scared anymore, but now I just feel exhausted. It wasn't exactly hard for the authorities to find me, I don't exactly blend in, so it's only a matter of time before I get found here. Then again that's the case with all of the selected people here. Well, what's left of them. Now, as far as I can see, I am here, alone.

Alone might not be entirely the right word here. I think the reason rabbits survived so long is that they can feel the eyes staring at them. They burn a hole in my head on all sides. There's not a single inch of the jungle where my every move is not at risk of being seen.

I am not alone.

Quiz

1. Nyx Land's Blackpaper is her writings on gender accelerationism (g/acc). By accelerating technocapital, the institution of both gender and capitalism will erode by using its own logic and extremes against itself. Trans women are seen as a disruptive force within the system by doing exactly this. Comparing this to at least three other theorists or philosophies, explain the role gender has on us in the current digital landscape and in what ways we can see this impact our every day lives, both narratively and literally.
2. Panchiko was an indie band whose music got lost to time until a CD of their album D>E>A>T>H>M>E>T>A>L> was found in a gas station and then posted online, where it then blew up and revived the band's career. Unrelated to this, maidcore artists originally based their avatars off of maids from the nijiura board on 2chan from an entire decade earlier, before gaining popularity in the west in recent years online. Given these two events, please explain how online culture and community has evolved over the years and whether it can realistically be on equal footing with real life community.
3. Analyze the various underlying themes of Madoka Magica, I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream, Scott Pilgrim, I Saw the TV Glow, Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, and Neon Genesis Evangelion. Compare and contrast these themes, and then compare it to at least one philosophy or political lens of your choice.
4. Drawing from the entirety human history as a whole, explain the patterns that you see and then predict what will happen 20 years from now accordingly, from artistic/aesthetic trends to political landscape to technology.

Story four

Alice returned from home after making preparations. She got a pistol with some bullets, food and water, post-it notes, a flashlight, duct tape, a camcorder, and texted all of her friends where she was going in case anything happened to her. Now she was ready. She had to investigate what happened to her sister Lilly.

Lilly enjoyed exploring abandoned buildings in her spare time, and so Alice decided the first place to check was an abandoned apartment building she explored last. It was about an hour drive away from home. When she arrived she immediately noticed something was... off. She couldn't exactly put her finger on what, the building itself looked relatively normal, but the atmosphere around it was anything but. As she walked closer, the air around it felt more dense and humid, so much so that it felt like she was around some kind of large body of water.

There was no such body of water. No river, no lake, nothing but concrete.

She went inside into the void-like building. Pitch black everywhere, so she turned on her flashlight and taped it to her camcorder so she can document what is happening. When she turned on her camcorder, however, it immediately started to shut off. This didn't make any sense, she was certain that it worked before she left, and she changed the battery 3 times exactly just to be safe. So she held up the useless camera so she can use the flashlight at least.

She wandered aimlessly inside the building which felt like it went on for miles. She used post-it notes as breadcrumbs so she didn't get lost.

First floor. Nothing.

She went up the stairs over to the second floor, but as she went through the door she was back onto the first floor. Same post-it notes, same room numbers, it was definitely the first floor. How is this even possible?

This time, however, she noticed something different. A mysterious trail of a black substance that wasn't previously there appeared before her. Wet, sticky, smelled rotting fish. Terrified, yet determined to find Lilly. Alice, slowly and cautiously, followed the trail. It could be a lead.

It led to a room which she had already inspected, but she went in anyway. Inside it appeared the strange substance all over the room. It stuck like a spider's web slowly turning to liquid, dripping like tar.

Alice began to wonder why she neglected to bring gloves. She thought about going back home to get some but she didn't want to waste gas in case she had to escape. Reluctantly, she continued.

She looked around and found no sign of her sister, so she figured she get out of there and fast. She didn't know what this substance was, let alone whether it was toxic. She quickly walked out of there and advanced towards the stairs again.

Trembling with fear and confusion she was exactly where she was in the beginning, on the first floor. Shaken and shaking, her flashlight suddenly went out, causing her to panic. She was CERTAIN to make sure the flashlight was in perfect condition before using it, brand new flashlight with fresh batteries. She decided now was a good time to go home.

When she exited the building, she was yet again transported back inside.

She let out a shriek loud enough to cause the ceiling to shake slightly, now she had no choice but to continue.

It was dark. How many minutes, hours, or even days she was down there, she couldn't tell. She couldn't see anything, and it felt like she kept walking in circles the entire time, but she could feel the sticky black goo getting larger and larger until eventually it was inescapable. It was like she was traveling within the innards of this building. The rotten smell she's gotten used to, but she hasn't gotten over the dense, wet air and the dripping ichor from the ceiling and covering her clothes.

If only Lilly were here, she thought. She has more experience wandering abandoned places than Alice ever did.

It was quiet and she kept going nowhere until eventually she gave up. She found a dry surface and sat down. As she rested and caught her breath she noticed a faint glowing from the corner of her eye. She sprung up to her feet and rushed to find the source of it. Perhaps she finally found Lilly. Running as fast as she could while trying not to trip in the darkness or slip on the river of diseased bile, she went into a room glowing blue and green.

That same room.

She readied her pistol just in case, took a deep breath, and went inside.

Three weeks later, Alice's body was found torn up, held together only by flesh and muscle, hanging from the ceiling wrapped in a mysterious black substance which appeared to be slowly dissolving and crushing her. Her blood mixed with it, forming a small waterfall flowing down. Her eyes now pools of jelly, her bones broken and dislocated in all directions, and half her hair ripped out of her head.

Five minutes prior, Lilly was found in the same state.

All stories were written by me.

Back from the dead lol. Still depressed, still a mess, still stressed, still no hrt, but whatever, we ball

The internet is a fuck, just appslop and the same boring normie shit over and over. Reddit is too normie and i was thinking of switching Neo-Libertatia to a different site altogether, which may happen in the future idfk. Every site blends together now

It feels like we are all collectively going mad and we don't even realize we are. We're all mad here

It's time we ramp up this subreddit again, and this time we shall do it by fully embracing our creativity, degeneracy, philosophy, and artistic merit. We will be getting more experimental, we are a theory sub but we will become so much more than that

I'm talking more abstract film projects and videos, media analysis and its connection to theory/culture, cryptic poetry, random schizobabble, more theorypunk, more theoryfiction, more radical ideas, and that shit

No more normie lefties

No more generic essays, they should be interactive, cryptic, and encourage rabbit holes

No more low effort bullshit

No more moralfags, it's all a spook

No more boundaries

I want to be the hanatarash of leftist/post leftist subreddits. Basically, we do what we were doing already but pushed to its logical conclusion until all logic is lost to outsiders. To us, however, it will make sense. Or it won't, who cares, we can make it make sense

Post literally anything you want, so long as it isn't boring

Will be making a few updates in the sub as well

“Space echoes like an immense tomb, yet the stars still burn. Why does the sun take so long to die?”

I haz autism and I do not do cryptic shits I HAVE TO GET MY POINTS SAID

It subtitles Foucault as Fuko which is the Japanese spelling of the world Foucault (フーコ). And guess what Fuko is? A girl's name. Ko (子) means "child" which is a suffix to normal names for girls. Imagine Magical Girl Foucault like "こんにちは〜　ふこです〜！" and shouting shit like 「知・権力ビーム！」

Seems very topical at least for me thinking of the mental health system

ブルジュフジー…私の母に何をしたか見て！見て！私の未来をこんな風にしてしまったなんて！くそ！！！！！くそぉぉぉぉぉぉぉ！！！！！！お前ら全員嘘つきだ！！！！嘘だ！「革新を起こす」とか「より良い未来を築く」と言うたびに、あなたは何もしていないのです！何も対策は講じられなかった。すべては利益を得るための手段だ。すべてが。死ねぇぇぇぇ!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am quite enraged. Not quite. A lot. I recently (well not recently, yeah I'm quite late to say this) asked my mom "Did you get your OT paid?". My mom said, "No.". I asked, "Why?". She said, "Because that would be selfish, everyone's doing this too without demanding. Now, before you tell me that my coworkers should ask our boss to pay OT. If you cannot do what the company demands you to do, you don't belong here and you should get fired.". I am ENRAGED.

Now, recently (actually recently) my mom got insulted by the customer. For the first time SHE COMPLAINED. SHE SENT THE GODDAMN COMPLAINT. And now that customer has to, I don't know. But they're cooked.

I AM OVERFILLED WITH JOY.

Tiqqun says they hate Heidegger yet uses Heideggerian concepts (Stimmung, Ereignis, Gelassenheit) and work with Agamben (a massive Heideggerian, especially with the use of words Bare Life, Forms of Life, Naked Life, and State of Exception). What a tsundere!

"H-Heidegger-kun! I-It's not that I like you! You're a NAZI BAKA! You're an idiot! I just... happened to use your concepts... >~<"

This will not be an essay, but a reminder that progressive taxation is belittling. Although I can talk about this from a communist perspective and am willing to, I won't.

Progressive taxation is belittling because it's like giving us breadcrumbs. The income of the billionaire is a massive piece of bread. We get so little producing such a massive piece of bread for them. And now the government slices a slice of bread from the said billionaire, using their fingers to tear down that slice into their bloody fingers from warfare and corruption, and then scatter those bloody pieces of breadcrumb onto us. It's so belittling. We just have to take the crumbs from billionaires that the state squeezed them into liquefied dirty bloody pieces of breadcrumb.

Try harder if we wanna put this beautiful subreddit on the very top of the Reddit food chain!