I am overcome by a sense of impending doom at all times. I wake up and am immediately set upon by the realization that our nation is dying, and not unlike a star many millions of miles away, I fear that we will realize all too late that it died a long, long time ago. The rootless cosmopolitans who struck the killing blow only serve to further the agendas of the wicked and collapse the last vestiges of that which is righteous and good in this hell world. It is not their bombs or guns we should fear, it is the pseudo-intellect, the yes man with the fluoride smile who will look into your eyes and tell you everything is okay as the smell of death permeates every inch of breathable air.

It isn’t enough to stand by and commentate, to be a vague notion of a man, empty words and meaningless ideas rattling around a vacant skull. To be a passive actor on the stage of life, existing only to be told where to go, what to do and how to think, is to reduce yourself to little more than an animal. For one to know the nature of their own sickness and wear it like a badge of pride, to willingly dive into the apathetic, passionless movements of people like federal agent and brunch haver Richard Spencer and “she’s just like us” Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is to devolve yourself, to become less than a person. It is to become an NPC.

The term “NPC” is a fitting one, albeit a bit tired now: the nowhereman’s beliefs and personality are all determined by those he perceives to be above him. Perhaps in past times, we sought to emulate great leaders, to have the ambition of Caesar or the courage of Achilles. However, now we chase the almighty approval of the blue checkmark. The Like or the re-Tweet of some Silicon Valley faggot or 5/10 Latinx Jewish politician has now become the gold standard for dopamine attainment, a virtual monument to the fact that your opinions have been deemed acceptable by the faggy, degenerate zeitgeist. The NPC sleeps better at night knowing he has made at least one fat, unlovable degenerate feel more comfortable in his mental illness. He sleeps soundly knowing that his opinions harm nobody and offer no threat. He is malleable, a piece of human Play-Doh with just about as much practical use, a shapeshifter, a spineless organism that survives off the approval of those around him, able to fit into any mold, inoffensive and unremarkable.

The nowheremen of today stand as the most prevalent example of this cultural negativity we are being force-fed through TV, journalism, and radio, an idea that is fed to us bit by bit, piece by piece. Every atheistic quip by your favorite autistic scientist on Ronk and Mordy, every reaffirmation of just how “ridiculous!” it is to believe in some higher power, every slight at heteronormativity punctuated by two ugly dykes kissing during our Thanksgiving parades. To think that all this passes by, in one ear and out the other, with so very few people cognizant of the poison being given to them is alarming to say the least. We have for the most part simply accepted this as part of our new reality, the new normal. Your moral compass is made and manufactured by Monsanto and your conscience is a Google patent.

To conclude, I will say to all young men who still yet have retained the ability to think, to be critical, and to be dangerous: embrace this. Embrace it in the same way all those around you have embraced this fatalistic and ugly world. Fight ‘til your last breath, not only in words, but in action. Become the supernova of our long-dead star, become the cosmic vengeance nature demands, and let your wrath and righteous fury echo throughout history.