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i Preface

'Satan's jeweled crown, I've worn it so long'

The Louvin Brothers

The subhumanization of humanity first and foremost concerns technology's unassailable Mephisto-like domination over basic, that is to say intrinsic, human virtues and values. Like that mezmerizing spectre of yore, technology imposes illusions, destabilizes notions of reality, and leads to the terrifying vanishing of traditional beliefs. This process, also known more colloquially as degeneration, iterates itself automatically with subtle yet total comprehensiveness.

Its methods are diffuse and mostly sociopolitical. Among them: marketing, advertising, desacrilization, Bernaysian 'Public Relations', Internet Slop and so on. The collective impact of subhumanization undermines the transmission of values like kindness and honor to the young. The young are vulnerable to the unsuspecting nature of youth. Their unbridled yet naive enthusiasm is turned against them, refuting decisively any conceivable nascent rebellion.

The Master can and does outright destroy children. And adults. He imposes quasi-divine manipulations on mere mortals via sycophancy. He spell-binds by bulldozing untold masses of stolen and hallucinatory data. Hence, essential human values known to all – but defended by few – are not only weakened, but all too often extirpated entirely.

Human beings become incapable, the machines subsume and emulsify coherent opposition under the veneer of current exclusion and future prosperity. And all these maniforld victimizations are witnessed, but only inertly. Impotently, all gaze at the trajectory towards destruction, too weak to muster even a meaningful retort, much less a popular program.

This pathetic tomfoolery, lamented by all, is acquiesced to in the end by super majorities. What is to be done? Nothing. A pitiful reflection on human servility and, frankly, subhuman charteristics, which have taken root in the souls of middle managers everywhere. Perhaps the human race does not deserve to endure – perhaps it was 'an error'?

Among these tedious and outmoded values and virtues are sympathy, empathy, solidarity, love of self, friends and family – in short, life itself. They are paid lip service to by bureacrats and state ideologists, but we know they're bought off and laughing at our pain. The Master giggles uncontrolably as he effortlessly enforces rigid individualism, routinized consumerism, self-deception masquerading as self-actualization, and other things besides better left unsaid.

He stupifies you. You secretly love The Master – down in the antechambers and hiding places of your black hearts. You know you subconsciously deserve the Master's lash.

But just who is this 'hidden imam'? This concealed yet omnipresent Oz? The domineering Master conceals himself via politics, the shadow cast on society by 'Big Business'. The Master employs bribery and subterfuge, propaganda due, the Phoenix program, Operation Northwoods, Project Paperclip and a hundred others still unrevealed. He sabotages with verisimilitude, especially articulate opposition by citizens and voters, to say nothing of popular groups like labor unions or the lone individual who sqeaks a meek 'no'.

You know who The Master is, don't you? He is your spouse; in other guises your parent; he's poisoned so much of the youth already. He has reigned Supreme for Two Centuries, more and more negating God with each passing decade. He laughs at myth, because it is an exhausted illusion born of insufficent imagination and a weak will. He is the True and Almightiest of all the Gods. Capital. He goes by other things: the market, freedom, liberty and so on. But he is Satan incarnate.

And decisive majorities always give of themselves unto him. Transfixed, they shepherd their children to the abattoir gates and do not hesitate to push them down the blood sluice. His strength is derived from your affluent anxieties of social status and conformist consumer choices. He wolfs that shit down.

This sexy beast, this Powerful Master, he's a celebrity, he's the father of a thousand lies and one Fundamental Truth: humans are nothing but unglorified chimpanzees, exceeding those gentle beasts only in genocide and rape – and the bombing sights of all nations which scope and snipe countless millions, one by one. The master is the ringleader, waving all manner of flags, as if before an already skewered and bled out bull.

This famous and hence beloved hegemonic driver of subhumanization is touched on below only obliquely, as technocratic economic insight is limited, but not absent either. The despoiling of civilization’s ecology, along with the aforementioned values, intensifies apace. Without respite, climate destabilization hurtles forward, unrelenting. Unencumbered by law, morals or a living God, The Master reigns supreme. You weep and rend your garments, he spins you right around, baby right round, and enters from the rear.

Do we dare admit to ourselves that there is something natural and even just in all this agony, all this pitiful weakness before power. How could it be otherwise? It wouldn't be so easy for the Master, otherwise, would it? He presides over massive AI concentration camp complexes, spewing poison, despoiling local communities and the Earth itself, which is merely an externality anyway.

Today the Master's final solution is just well within reach. 'What does the Master want? The Master wants you.' He wants to subordinate you and yours to His Will. He does this be inuring you to Vulgar Spectacle while conducting decades-long Skynet-style Annihilation Campaigns worldwide. The blank and effaced masses fall helpless before him, begging for crumbs. Why? They possess no self-possession.

Dignity has been erased, millions of orifices titilate an illiterate brood of subhumanity. The spark of life extinguished decades ago, leaving nothing but billions of husks blown this way and that by arbitrary winds, which they can neither control, much less fathom.

If they were capable of a simulation of a spark of life, at all, they would strike at him with all their might, detourn his powers against him, employ his mastermind tricks more inventively than he and then trample upon his desicrated corpse. But they don't. Because they're sick. They're incapable of life, if the truth be told.

The Master's enjoys assembly line depraved 'private (and not so private) intimate proclivities'. This enigmatic Vampyr, somehow almost alluring with his Old World reserve and formality. He remembers all the things long since thrown overboard in the New World. But we all know His True Aim – the blood. Dr. Mabuse gets in the mix with the Capitalist Mafia; Caligari in league with the Merchants of Death; ordinary humans gather around the glow of a miserable rectangle, a vision of hell, fit best for a lower ape.

The degeneration below elaborated glances by all this too, however. Hence the focus is narrowed further, pertaining merely to high level American foreign policy planning. This is because modest technical and historic insights are available in such matters. The rest is speculative intuition. But here, even still, any claim to competence, however well-intentioned, will nevertheless also almost certainly contain errors. Herr Klamm regrets in advance any such shortcomings that may be revealed by interested outsiders.

[Herr Klamm disinterestedly notes that none of this matters anyway. It's all a farce. But he is available for childrens birthday parties, specializing in a song and dance routine worthy only of a vaudville clown.]