There is no art. Fuck art!

“Art,” as we so-call it today, is not what art is. What passes for art today, here (on this website, indeed this page of this website) and everywhere else, is not a representation of the world through some particular perspective. If it were, the “artist” would subscribe to that perspective and hold fast to it across all the art he produces, he would demand that the world conform to his art, or at least the other way around, but he doesn’t. “Art” today is a plaything, a cute little act of seeing-things-differently that drops out of the art-vending machine for thirsty yuppies to drink up in front of their friends. Drop out and stop making art!

There is no politics. Fuck politics!

“Politics” as we mislabel it is the conflict between two, three, or four mutually contradictory interpretations of a world we are utterly unable to change. That the latte-sipping San Francisco liberal has no impact on American racial attitudes and that your Fox News-watching uncle has no impact on U.S. foreign policy is too obvious to explain; that you, you little GenZ radical you, have no impact on the cultural decline of our country might take a bit more. Socialists banging on about equality and nationalists banging on about degeneracy only exist because of their respective target audiences, and those target audiences only exist because of the collapse to which they refer. They have no relation whatsoever to the culture their ancestors had before the screen. Drop out and stop talking about politics!

There is no work. Fuck work!

“Work”—again, and this of course applies to all of the above, for the disaffected doomed middle class that we are—is not…but do I really need to say this one? What are you actually producing in your cozy, ball-crushing, 50-hour job? The vague naggling thought that you have time and time again suppressed is in fact true: the sole purpose of your work is to stress you out, to make you a bloodless slogan-repeating wreck so as to ensure that the world proceeds as conveniently as possible without you. Drop out and don’t die before your time!

There is no salvation in academia. Nobody reads anymore. Fuck academia!

There is no God. There might have been once, but there sure isn’t one now. Fuck religion!

There is no self-improvement. Nobody cares about your body or how many languages you speak. Fuck dedication!

There is no emotion left in the world. Punch anyone who says there’s still beauty in little things! Punch them right on the nose!

Nothing is real any more. Nothing has an inherent significance, including the gibberish of the academics, writers, and general scum who tell you “nothing has an inherent significance.” There is nothing left to latch onto. Everything material has been shoved into the slimy wall of shit surrounding us.

Therefore, there is only one solution: exit the world. If we deem suicide too inconvenient, we must instead embark on an unprecedented project of self-transformation: Dropping Out. But what is Dropping Out? And what does it mean to become a Dropout?

That is not an easy question to answer. The Dropout movement is, by design, utterly incomprehensible to all those that came before. Whereas previous movements were “collectivist” and utilitarian, or “individualist” and idealistic—or some zany combination of the two—the Dropout movement does not acknowledge any principle at all. Fuck principles! They’re meaningless, anyway; no principle has ever arisen without reference to the world, and those that claimed to have done so (Buddhism, Christianity, Marxism etc.) did not survive a single second in the fresh air without being contorted into world-affirming incoherence. The Dropout movement recognizes that only the absence of principle can overturn the world.

Therefore no Dropout may confess that he is a Dropout. We have no Shahada, only Taqqiya; we have as many names and “identities” as necessary to further our cause. Every sin of class, wealth, race, sex, and personality is permitted so long as it is committed in the sacred spirit of Dropping Out. Every act that can be imagined can be done so long as it is done with reflexive hatred. Nothing is yet worth doing without hating it. “Love”—the idea that cannot be mentioned lest it be shoved into the shit—can only resume once hatred is complete. So we Drop Out, and yet appear to do the same things we did before; only our minds hate it and seek more and more ways to hate. Drop out and escape this deadly “love!”

The world will go on as it is going. Culturally and materially, it will continue to get worse. Inequalities will abound, degeneracy will take root everywhere, and hope will fade away apace. The Dropout mind-virus is as quiet and gradual as it is benevolent. But one day, one blessed day in the far future, all the billions of this shit-covered world but one will have Dropped Out. All of us will be Dropouts, our minds clean and full of hatred, all but one.

And on that day, you and I and all the billions with us will turn to that last one, and with our teeth and nails, we’ll tear the flesh from his bones!