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A life sentence in the ape prison—or, an anatomy of the human zoo

Updated: Apr 18, 2023

At my school, a boy once crucified a cat and then shot it through full of arrows—he videoed the entire event. He was a genuine psychopath, of course—along with fire-lighting and bed-wetting, cat-killing is a typical sign and symptom of psychopathy. In fact, when a psychopath kills a cat—the cat being the magical animal par excellence—it confers magical powers upon him (hence the uncanny luck found among psychopaths, and serial killers in particular).

The headmaster at my school reacted to the cat crucifixion with the words, “Boys will be boys.” He was a veteran of the Falklands War—a decorated Royal Marine, he charged an Argentine trench single-handed, killed 12 or so men, and all the while chanted “Zulu! Zulu!”. He was a very religious men, very Catholic—he had some minor lay office in the Church. He was absolutely fucked in the head—as was the boy, the school, and as is society itself. That’s just how it is.

We live in the human zoo, in an ape prison—within the zoo itself there is a sub-zoo called “actual prison”; and that’s a place where our generalised madness is intensified and assumes bizarre new forms. It all comes down to the RD Laing quote: “What we call ‘normal’ is a product of repression, denial, splitting, projection, introjection and other forms of destructive action on experience. It is radically estranged from the structure of being.”

This sums up life in the human zoo—it’s where the “responsible” people see you crucify a cat and then say, “Boys will be boys” (denial); and then if you say it was a magical act tell you that you need to see a psychiatrist because “magic isn’t real because there’s no scientific evidence for it” and “the Church says it isn’t real”—so, clearly, I’m “mad” (splitting, projection), whereas these people are qualified to run schools, the military, and prisons.

Take a rather old example: Bill Clinton. Back in the day, the whole Clinton-Lewinsky scandal was huge news—although it seems like a storm in a teacup so many decades on (a Stormy Daniels in a tea cup, even). I was still a child then, but I remember that my maternal uncle was very proud that he could download and print out a copy of the Starr Report, since he had just got the Internet. He was quite triumphant and exultant about it. Again, bizarre really—why should a man in Wales feel exultant that he got an early copy of a report to determine whether or not a powerful man thousands of miles away did or did not get a blowjob?

Let’s break down what Bill Clinton really did, without the “madness”—without the introjection, splitting, denial etc. It was basically as if he walked into your living room with his suit top on but completely trouserless and without any underwear. When you shrieked and said, “You’re naked, Bill!”, he then said, in reply, “I do not recollect to the best of my abilities not having put on my trousers and underpants this morning.” “Bill, you’re naked—I can see everything!” “Whether or not you can ‘see everything’ depends very much on what you mean by the word ‘naked’, because, technically, in accord with the dictionary, ‘nakedness’ is not the same as ‘nudity’…” And so on and so forth.

Let’s face it, everyone knew what had happened as regards oral sex in the Oval Office (itself a vaguely suggestive name, vaginal)—there was even a semen trail (or was it asparagus sauce?—I forget) on Lewinsky’s dress. Yet the entire circus—the entire hysteria—pivoted on a refusal to accept this point by either political party (themselves, between the two parties, engaged in a hysterical act of splitting, projection, and introjection).

The Democrats couldn’t admit it happened—even when it was just obvious it had, and despite their liberal views on sexuality (so called)—for power retention reasons, but the Republicans struggled to say either because their conservative reticence over sexual matters made it difficult to say (and what was pretty much totally repressed was the fact Lewinsky was Jewish—that was a whole unexcavated point that only struck me years later).

So the whole show was basically insanity, as much as if Clinton had just stood there with his dick out—and yet half the country insisted the dick was “not technically out” or that “they couldn’t see it, if it was out—and even if it was, does it matter in this day and age?”. Meanwhile, the other half of the country went into hysterics to be even shown the dick—which caused them to swoon, project, and introject. Also, the whole world was in on the hysteria too. Surely this is all madness?

There sits Bill and he says, “Mamma, I swear it wasn’t me, it was that no good woman, she made me do it. She made me do dirty *things*.” “Bill, ah believeh you mah boy (or however single mothers from Arkansas speak)—she’s just trash, a no-good lying hussy. My boy never done nothin’ dirty in his life. Mah Bill is a good boy.”

And, notoriously, there was *the sentence*, “I never had sexual relations with that woman, Ms. Lewinsky.” I mean, you had your cock in her mouth—so why not bring it to first-name terms, to Monica? (Because denial, dehumanisation—it’s just a dirty object “that”, it’s scat. I didn’t touch it, I’m clean). At best it’s “Ms. Lewinsky”, you see—very formal, never even passed the time of day with her.

Then there’s “sexual relations”—so vague, so legalistic. So you can worm your way out, because according to sub-section of some legal code “sexual relations” doesn’t extend to oral sex—or the cigar in the vagina, if that happened (who knows—sounds plausible, but it might have been a collective sexual fantasy).

Well, there you have it all in one sentence, from the most powerful man on earth: projection, splitting, introjection, and denial (introjection is when you unconsciously take on another person’s beliefs, by the way—like if you read what I write and like it and then start to mimic the way I write or start your own blog, think you’ll be “a writer”, because you’re not aware of how your unconscious drives you; after all, perhaps I’m not a “writer”, perhaps this isn’t a “blog”—but if you experience introjection that is what you will think, but you will think it comes from you).

Pretty much everyone behaves in the ways described above—if Bill Clinton did it, you do it; and everyone does it still—there’s been no improvement. We’re a load of apes in a large open-air enclosure—perhaps with a pit in the middle and some rubber rings to play on—and we just can’t cope with the stored up aggression and sexual energy (that amount to the same thing), especially since we’re also advanced apes that have to do complex social cooperation to keep the zoo online. In consequence, we live in these mad invented worlds to keep experience at bay—and if anyone comes along to point out reality, men like Jesus or the Buddha, we stone them to death (in a distinctly ape-like way).

So as far as politics goes, it’s doubtful the right is any better than the left. They tend to get hysterical over traditional religious issues or the remnants of cultural Christianity—so they became really hysterical about Clinton’s infidelity; but it’s all madness really, most of them are panty-sniffing sex-perverts (can relate) or were humping their secretaries—or are so possessed by the fear they might suddenly snap, have so little faith in themselves, like Mike Pence, that they always keep the door open (because we’re mad apes—we have to keep the door open to prove we’re not having sex in our office; we are completely normal people—indeed, why have doors at all, isn’t “the door” itself a temptation? Let’s have a religious mania to destroy all doors—given our current delusion that biological sex doesn’t exist, it would be an improvement).

The left are in some ways worse because they have deluded themselves that they have overcome their “hang-ups”—so they’ll say, “Yeah, Clinton had oral sex in the Oval Office, so what?—just get over it, you’re repressed.” Yet it’s all delusion in another direction—the left is as mad as the right, they just have different hang-ups, just say to them, “I’d like to whip you like a nigger,” and you’ll see what I mean. It’s because they’re repressed and hysterical and like to split (“racists”, “Nazis”), just like people who are obsessed with “No Fap” or keeping their office doors open. The madness is completely general.

The reason—one reason—why so many people feel chronically dead, turn to drink and drugs and so on, is that they are trapped in this invisible prison and they don’t even realise it. If you say to them, “The cup of tea is on the table,” they look at you like you’re mad—possibly they will call a psychiatrist and have you evaluated, if not perhaps the police. Yet the cup of tea is on the table—and the gods are real (of course we can’t see that—we’re too busy conning our fellow apes into thinking we’re “normal”).

Everything that is *you* has to be pushed away, because you can’t stand the pain—which is actually joy—that comes about when you experience what you are fully; and perhaps you want to get near the apes who have all the bananas too—and they’re “normal”. So, instead, it’s all pushed away “he was going through a rough patch”, “he has autism”, “he has ADHD”, “I wasn’t my normal self”, “I wasn’t thinking straight”, “It wasn’t me”, “I do not recall having met Ms. Lewinsky previous to today’s court appearance”—and so on.

All ways to avoid experience—and there are hundreds of these techniques, many tied to old religions or parodies of religions and many tied to politics and some to how your fucked-up family works (all families are fucked-up—you can interpret that how you like, it’s a free-style word); and it’s all based on the Clintonian idea that you can walk into the living room with your dick swinging out and then argue and cajole everyone into saying, “Oh no, Bill—I see your trousers perfectly. In fact, you’re better dressed than me!”

In effect, everyone is schizo—everyone is talking in code. Ideas like “the dog-whistle”, strenuously denied by conservatives, are absolutely true. It’s straightforward polysemy to communicate what are obvious facts of existence that are denied due to repression, introjection, splitting, and so on—“good people don’t say that”, “nice boys don’t do that—you’re a nice boy, aren’t you?”. The conditioning starts very young, so that “nice boys” are not good at being nice really but are very good at saying, when they come across a crucified cat filled with arrows, “Well, boys will be boys”—or, even worse, “Cat? I don’t know about a cat? [Silence—a silence that will become indefinite if you ask the question again].”

Conservatives are quite keen on the above game—it’s why the British Conservatives once had an electoral campaign that ran, “Are you thinking what we’re thinking?”. If you think about it, the whole campaign was totally schizo. “No, gas them all? Is that it?” “Why, my dear fellow, what ever would give you that impression? We’re a moderate centrist party, not extremists. You’re one of those beastly Hitler johnnies, I think.” We’re so respectable—so conservative, we don’t fuck our secretaries while we lambast single mothers or get whipped in S&M dungeons by nanny-mother substitutes (“We’re normal people, not like those degenerate freaks.”).

Well, the left have their own iterations—less based on repression and just as insane. Indeed, insanity is normality in the human zoo. If you actually, as some of us apes like to say, “own your shit” people get disturbed—because you’re meant to pretend it’s not your shit, or put over a plausible story about how it’s someone else’s shit that happens to have been deposited there (and then, even if it’s just a transparent lie, like Clinton, we’re meant to pretend we buy it to keep the show on the road—as we become ever-more hysterical, though always “nice” and “frenly”).

If you move beyond “owning your shit” to making generalised observations about reality then you run the crucifixion risk—because you are not allowed to become sane, “sanity” is when you’re lost in stratospheric interpretations made up by the mind to cover up reality (it’s when you stop the cover-up, stop the insanity, that they call you “insane”—“For the love of God, go back to lying! Say you were on anti-depressants and they impaired your judgement! Get a note from the doctor! Don’t take responsibility—don’t tell the truth, are you mad??!!!”).

Yet reality is reality—and I am the type of person who will write to a random girl on the Internet “I’d like to whip you like a nigger” and “I’d like to bend you over, pull down your panties, and hold a knife against your throat.” That’s just a fact—because the cup of tea is on the table.


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1 Comment

Apr 18, 2023

So, the obvious question is whether you're in fact the boy that crucified the cat... I'm about 50/50 on that one.

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