Invert(e)

On the 100th Anniversary of the Futurist Manifesto: The No-More-Future Manifesto

God is not dead. We are. God has yet to be fully born, whereas humanity is like a bacteria that threatened the host and is about to suffer the consequences of a planetary equivalent of antibiotics.

Intelligence is a sexually transmitted disease. Life is infinitely more beautiful without thought. Not to mention peaceful. Blissful. Spend the day up a tree. This is an order. Honor your superiors.

Plants were, are, and always will be the dominant life form on Earth. Animal life only exists to suck up the excess oxygen out of the biosphere.

Demand queerness everywhere. The 10 to 1 ration of straight procreational sex to queer recreational sex must be reversed. Knowing that it is too late to matter, ultimately, we still need to encourage the human race to decrease its number in the fastest manner possible, not only for our souls, but in order to take pressure off the life forms that will survive us. Suck more cock. Eat more pussy. Bang more butt. The penetration of the vagina by a penis must be seen as the tragic mistake it has always been.

Since the failed experiment of homo sapiens is coming to a conclusion, we are free to do anything. Politeness must be rejected. Fear is irrelevant. Obeying laws is absurd. War is too ridiculous to continue. Murder is redundant. Starvation is noble. In the very near future, we will all starve. It must become our new religion.

Only two paragraphs of one book will be relevant once the Earth becomes serious about the removal of humankind: pages 125-126 of The Last Three Minutes, by Paul Davies. Nothing will be lost. No one will get left behind. Only unanswered questions will send us back into the Hell realm once we find ourselves in the End of Time. "What if I had done this, that, or the other?" Stop thinking. Do it now.

Breathe

The first thing we have to do is declare a moratorium on building new coal burning plants and phase out the existing ones. Oh, don't roll your eyes at me, Mary Margaret Johnny John John. If we don't do this in the next fifty years, we might not survive much beyond the next one hundred.

The first thing we have to do is clean up the oceans and reforest the land, and save, well, everything there is left to save. Let's not even look at the numbers:  the exact amount of what we've lost will make you want to vomit. We need to put our heads down, get to work, start small, and grow. Anything can be a seed. Anyone can garden.

The first thing we have to do is get out of our cars. America is driving itself crazy. Gridlock on the ground; greenhouse gases in the air. Everyone clamoring for community. You know what community is? It's when people live, play, and work all in the same area. The car is what tore communities apart and broke families up by making it so easy to move. Drive. We do drive. We have drive. We will drive straight to our graves. How's that for a declension? Oh yeah, it looks great on TV, with four on the floor and no one else on the road, in a wilderness that appears to be your very own personal planet. In real life, it's almost never like that. And even if you do get one wonderful weekend like that a year, guess what, your husband is yelling nonstop about something, your wife is unhappy about something else, the kids won't stop fighting, or your friend turns out to be an asshole, or, oh yayyy, you're alone and then, oh crap, you're alone. It never ends. We got taken for a ride. And you know the real reason America is so in love with its cars? Because so many of us got laid for the first time in one. Or kissed. Or got to make out.  Whatever. We have to start asking ourselves:  Is it worth it?  The quickie in the car or life on Earth?  I know it's not an easy choice, but you know, take a minute, think it over.