In May 2012 I received a surprise in the damned house.* Someone had left a box on the outside edge of the restroom for visitors. Opening it I saw something that amazed me: a little, divine animal! It looked like a bunny of short life but it was so beautiful and graceful that it could not be a rabbit, I thought. It took me time to recognize that it was actually a white bunny, but so otherworldly I felt that I had difficulty in reconciling my two hemispheres: one saying it could only be a divine creature, and another saying it was a little rabbit who had come to the world not long ago.
Almost abandoned in a box without custody, it had been one of many bunnies of a birthday gift to the children of a party bought by one of my irresponsible brothers, the father of the celebrated child. In a subsequent chapter I tell you how I got to interact with the creature, whom I rescued from an uncertain fate because of the pettiness of my family and Mexicans in general. Previously I had never interacted in such way with an animal; in fact, I never wanted to have pet even though I did not get married and have no offspring. But seeing such defenseless being at the mercy of the modified apes in my family moved me to adapt it. I’ll tell stories but in this chapter all I can add is that, over time, the white rabbit would help me to finally find my way out of the inverted world of Alice.
Just under two and a half years later I would receive a shock that changed the planned architecture of this book. The newspaper The Mirror reported that four young males of Seaham in Durham, England, between seventeen and twenty raped, tortured and murdered Percy: a bunny that, in the picture you can see on the internet with the naked young, looks identical to my pet, who is now an adult rabbit.
They tried to shave Percy, set her alight, tried to drown her and then threw her still alive from the window. The human monsters, all white, even filmed with a cell what they did: a video that the owner of the bunny (also white) could not see when the police arrested the perpetrators; just a still picture to identify the missing pet. The punishment for this crime was insignificant in today’s Britain. I would have ordered torture—exactly what they did to the rabbit—and then throwing them out the window to let them die in agony lying on the ground (tit for tat). In fact, if by some miracle of fate an extraterrestrial force had empowered me like a Karellen on my recent trip to the UK, I would have done it already.
We must remember that, had the Anglo-Saxon demons allowed Germany an empire from the Atlantic to the Urals, in areas under the Nazi flag the torment animals would have slowed considerably. Personally, I consider Hermann Göring my patron saint: and he should also be the patron for those who yearn for a world free of such abuses of human power. Never forget the caricature of 1933 on how freed animals—no more vivisection! no more animal testing!—salute their savior Hermann.
Unlike my beloved Nazis, in both DW and my blog in English I talked about what the non-Nazis are capable to do with defenseless animals. I mentioned fur factories in China where some mammals are skinned alive; farms in Mexico where they hang the rabbits from their ears to death, something that has also happened in some Australian farms. This and what they did to Percy pierced my soul. Her photo in The Mirror shows her in a posture of quiet confidence before the humans who would torture her: identical image to the positions of how my own bunny—so used like Percy to benign owners—peacefully relaxes in human presence. The betrayal of the universe that Percy must have experienced facing the change from human angels to human devils is such that I have dedicated this book to her memory.
Although what those evil humans in Durham did was condemned by other English, so-called normal people do not stay behind. Human beings whom I consider exterminable are capable of pouring concentrated solutions for days in laboratory rabbits, and to prevent they close their eyes they fasten their lids with tongs! (How many women are unaware that their cosmetics are experimented such way…) This happens now with the blessing of society precisely because World War II was won by the wicked. Few know that in 1944-1947 the Soviets, Jews and Americans practiced a holocaust of Germans, the “Hellstorm” preventing inter alia that the benign policies of Hermann, who had saved our cousins in the brief historical window represented by the Third Reich, were implemented in the post-war West.
The philosopher of science Thomas Kuhn used the optical illusion of the duck-rabbit to show how a “paradigm shift” makes you see the same information in a completely different way. If westerners had not passed through a brainwashing process, instead of seeing a duck (the Nazis were evil) they would see a rabbit (they were actually good!). I noticed this in 1992 when studying the Faces of Bélmez in a small village of Andalusia. I started believing that the faces of the kitchen of María Gómez Cámara were a paranormal phenomenon until some day, looking at the face called La Pelona, I made a change in my inner subjectivity. I experienced the feeling that the broad strokes of the face were the work of human hand, shattering the parapsychological research upon which I had placed my hopes. Well ahead the book I will tell the details of that misadventure in Spain; suffice it to say that the paradigm shift comes from the inner will. Following the example of Kuhn, the volitional faculty of my mind stopped seeing a bird of the family Anatidae and discovered an Oryctolagus cuniculus.
The same can happen in our inner eye while revaluating Christian and neo-Christian values to their National Socialist antithesis (cf. FR and DW). Why do white nationalists, most of whom are Christian theists and neo-Christian atheists and both scared of The Turner Diaries are dissociated psychologically? Because, unlike William Pierce, with their stupid love for the modified apes they condemn other animals to a torture for millennia—while potentially the Aryans, who are going extinct, are capable of becoming Görings. For a truly integrated individual it becomes a no-brainer that what is moral is putting a screeching halt to the sadism towards our cousins, and the only way to do that is by dispatching the human devils. A change from love to hatred for sinful mankind—great hatred I mean: a hatred à la Yahweh from the mouth of Jeremiah—represents a paradigm shift. Does the quote from the novel Childhood’s End by Arthur Clarke I included in the fifth and final book in HS is recalled? In that novel humans are metamorphosed into a higher being. I quote again one of these passages, but remember that in the novel Karellen was the leader of the aliens who visited Earth: physically indistinguishable from the Christian iconography of devils.
“If you want a single proof of the essential—how shall I put it—benevolence of the Overlords, think of that cruelty-to-animals order which they made within a month of their arrival. If I had had any doubts about Karellen before, that banished them—even though that order has caused me more trouble than anything else he’s ever done!
That was scarcely an exaggeration, Stormgren thought. The whole incident had been an extraordinary one, the first revelation of the Overlords’ hatred of cruelty. That, and their passion for justice and order, seemed to be the dominant emotions in their lives—as far as one could judge them by their actions.
And it was the only time Karellen had shown anger, or at least the appearance of anger. “You may kill one another if you wish,” the message had gone, “and that is a matter between you and your own laws. But if you slay, except for food or in self-defense, the beasts that share your world with you—then you may be answerable to me.”
No one knew how comprehensive this ban was supposed to be, or what Karellen would do to enforce it. They had not long to wait.
The Plaza de Toros was full when the matadors and their attendants began their processional entry. Everything seemed normal; the brilliant sunlight blazed harshly on the traditional costumes, the great crowd greeted its favorites as it had a hundred times before. Yet here and there faces were turned anxiously towards the sky, to the aloof silver shape fifty kilometers above Madrid.
Then the picadors had taken up their places and the bull had come snorting out into the arena. The skinny horses, nostrils wide with terror, had wheeled in the sunlight and their riders forced them to meet their enemy. The first lance flashed—made contact—and at that moment came a sound that had never been heard on earth before.
It was the sound of ten thousand people screaming with the pain of the same wound—ten thousand people who, when they had recovered from the shock, found themselves completely unharmed. But that was the end of that bullfight, and indeed of all bullfighting, for the news spread rapidly.
Before I woke to the real world and stop demonizing the Third Reich, Childhood’s End was my favorite book. Now I see the devil Karellen, as painted by Clarke, was too magnanimous to humans. The sole fact that there are seedy slaughterhouses in the Spanish-speaking world warrants more drastic steps than that character’s actions.
In Mexico compartments for calves are so narrow that they cannot even turn around in the cage. When growing up farmers cut horns, mark with iron and castrate without anesthesia. On trucks en route to the Mexican slaughterhouses the animals sometimes travel more than a day without food or drink; they arrive hungry, thirsty and dizzy to Hell. The first thing the poor animals see in the slaughterhouse is a gruesome spectacle: pools of blood and skinned or dismembered carcasses of other cows; severed heads on the floor… They enter the first circles of hell in a state of panic. Arriving at the seventh the blow the killers give on the cow’s head does not always kill it. Sometimes this noble animal is injured, in shock and with the deepest pain wondering with no language why the demons of hell do you what they do. Mexicans are so exterminable that they usually put live pigs into an enormous pool of boiling water so that the Gehenna’s pain by fire makes the animal drop off its hairs. (In Mexico people are fond of eating pork rind—incidentally, a treat for my father—and they don’t like seeing hairs on it.)
The Spaniards are not left far behind. They prepare the bull in a bullfight to make it less dangerous by cutting the horns’ tips, smearing petroleum jelly on its eyes to blur the vision and an irritant solution onto the legs so that the animal will be always moving around the bull ring. (Before, they would have stuck a needle into the genitals to stunt their growth.) They put tow into its nose for making it harder to breathe; they give strong laxatives before the fight, and beat its loins and kidneys with sacks before it faces the matador. (And let us not mention what can be seen in the Spanish and Latin American television after the bull enters the arena.)
Only now it may be glimpsed the power of my unconscious during the dream in Madrid. If from the unconscious we take it not only to consciousness but to the super-consciousness it means that most humans should not exist. It is not enough that, according to polls, the majority of Spaniards today are uninterested in bullfighting. The mere fact that they and other people are involved in the chain of cruelty to animals—either using a product of feminine vanity experimented on the eyes of a bunny who was prevented from closing its eyelids, or gobbling the cutlet of a pig that had been submerged alive in boiling water—should be enough to arouse the exterminating hatred of the alien devil. Consider for example this passage from a commentary by one J. Marone, who in 2005 reviewed for Amazon Books Slaughterhouse: The Shocking Story of Greed, Neglect, and Inhumane Treatment Inside the US Meat Industry:
Cows, pigs and chickens are taken through the slaughter house alive. Cows are often alive all the way through the line, this includes while they are getting their legs chopped off with cutters—imagine that… They [those who work there] do not stop the line for these inconveniences. The workers shove electric prods in their rectums and eyes—deep into the sockets occasionally pulling out the eye to get them moving to the slaughter line.
After reading this [the book] I will never eat another piece of meat again. It is not my decision to make any other living thing suffer. But I find it amazing that when you go to share this book, people don’t want to know. They would rather stay ignorant and that in itself has shocked me tremendously.
The italics from the last paragraph are mine, and express why it is not enough that humans claim ignorance, as almost every adult has heard what happens in the slaughterhouses. When recently in my preparations for writing this chapter I began to read what was happening in those places I promised myself, like Marone, not to put pieces of corpses of mammals or birds in my mouth again. And now that I write these lines I notice that, to be consistent, I must also leave the dairy. From now on I will not be complicit of what dairy cows suffer in Mexican farms, which will eventually be killed in such spine-chilling way anyway. (I’ll even quit eating eggs. In this country of exterminable Neanderthals they put five chickens in a cage of less than one square meter where they live a year or more with electric lights to prevent normal sleeping hours and having them laying eggs like crazy. No wonder that a visitor to these coops called those places “gallinaceous madhouses.”)
I do not believe in the postmortem survival of the soul in the Christian or Buddhist sense. But clearly, Anatole France was right to say that, until you’ve stopped eating animal flesh (or derivatives of tormented animals I would say), a part of your soul remains unawakened. The thought of France takes us back to the points made in the fourth book of HS, where the psychogenic evolution of man is exposed. If regarding childrearing the Spaniards had taken a psychogenic quantum leap compared to Amerindians who still ate flesh of their children, a new leap means developing, in our times, empathy for our cousins in the animal kingdom.
Unlike Hitler and other vegetarians of the Nazi party, most Aryans have not gone through that leap. Just look at the pictures of mammals in laboratory experiments performed throughout North America and Europe and see that mankind is truly a damned species. I won’t incur into the rudeness of adding those pictures in this chapter: that is a task I leave to my readers. What I’m getting at is that the development of empathy has not even reached white nationalism or neo-Nazism understood in the American way. For example, on page 731 of Freedom’s Sons, the last novel in the saga of Harold Covington about the creation of a white nation northwest of North America, the author gives as ignoble the prohibition of eating beef, and on page 884 he puts as noble the practice of a child to go out hunting rabbits not to eat them, but for pleasure.
A parenthesis: When I talk about the extermination of the Neanderthals, in which I include virtually all non-whites and a good part of whites, it is not that I have forgotten the Jews. By now it should be obvious that those who continue cruel Mosaic practices in their treatment of animals to be eaten (in addition to the Talmudic injunction to exterminate the best of the goyim) are shown at the top of my blacklist. So, when I talk to exterminate the Neanderthalesque whites in the future, it is perfectly understood that cities like Jerusalem or Tel Aviv had already been ethnically cleansed and renamed as Himmler City or Eichmann City.
Such exterminating fantasies would not seem unhealthy if we do a thought experiment. In the article that gave the title to DW I quoted a nonfiction book by Arthur Clarke in which he spoke of the “Judgment from the Stars” the earthlings could experience. If we imagine that in real life someone like a Karellen visited our planet, what is the first thing he would see from his distant ships of silver, far above the human swarms? Urban sprawl. Environmentally destructive industries and bringing the cameras closer, abject human misery and unimaginable suffering of other species that share the planet with us. If, as in Clarke’s novel, the visitor also possessed machines to study the past of the species he would also perceive, along the hell that the naked apes put their cousins in, that throughout history and prehistory these apes had behaved hideously with their own children. It is worthwhile summarizing the statistics of the fourth book in HS.
With their machines to literally see the human past this hypothetical extraterrestrial would be taken aghast at the extent of infanticide: from fifteen to fifty percent of the total number of births in prehistoric times. Already in historical times, he would see thousands of young children slaughtered ritually, offered to the Babylonian goddess Ishtar. He would see the sacrifice of the infants of the Pelasgians; of the Syrians to Jupiter and Juno and more infant offerings at Gezer and Egypt in the centuries the earthlings call 10th-8th before Christ. Not to mention what the visitor would see with his machines when focusing them on the ancient Semites of Carthage, where burning children alive ordained by their own parents reached its infamous zenith. Something similar our visitor could see about other Phoenicians, Canaanites, Moabites, Sepharvites and the ancient Hebrews: who in their origins offered their eldest son as a sacrifice to their god(s). With their magic to see our past, the alien visitor would learn that it was not until the 4th century of the Gregorian calendar that Valentinian decreed that families must raise all their children, although both the exposure as the abandonment of infants continued in Europe until a council took action against the custom of killing one’s own kids.
Far worse things would our visitor see in the lands inhabited by non-whites: thousands of babies, mostly female, abandoned in the streets of ancient China; and how those not abandoned were put to death in cold water. He would see that in feudal Japan they suffocated the baby with wet paper covering her nose and mouth; how infanticide was systematic in the feudal Rajputs in India, sometimes throwing their children alive to the crocodiles; and how in pre-Islamic Arabia they buried alive a number of newborn females.
With his technology based on unimaginable principles the visitor would also see that the inhabitants of sub-Saharan Africa killed their children much more often than did other races: in Årebo, the Nama Hottentots, the inhabitants of the Lake Victoria Nyanza, the Tswana, the Ilso, the people of the bush, the !Kung of the Kalahari Desert, the Kikuyu (the most populous group in what is now Kenya), the Tswana, the Vadshagga, the Ibo village in Nigeria where the neonate was also buried alive or the Kuni, where every mother had killed at least one of their children. He would even see that child sacrifice was practiced in Zimbabwe as recently as the beginnings of the century the earthlings denominate 20th century. He would also see truly massive infanticides among the natives of the countless islands of Oceania, and in New Guinea, and even more among the extremely primitive aborigines of Australia, Tasmania and Polynesia. He would learn that in American tribes infanticide continued in times the practice had been abandoned in Europe, and also learn about the cannibalism among the Dene Amerindians and those of the Mackenzie Mountains; and that in the region now known as South Texas the Mariame practiced female infanticide on a large scale. He would see the same not only among the Central and South American tribes, but in the civilizations before the Spanish conquest where ritual slaughter of women and children suggests that they did it out of pure sadism. The hypothetical Karellen would see what I also mentioned in HS with reliable academic references: that some of these women and children were flayed on the face, or suffered eye mutilation before being executed. Finally, the visitor would see that, after the Conquest, the cruelty of the Mesoamerican and the Incan was prohibited by the Spanish only to be transferred to animals, which explains the cruelty in the slaughterhouses and farms at a time when our visitor does not have to use his devices to open the Complete Book of History and Prehistory of the species he studies.
It is clear where I want to go. If it is legitimate for this hypothetical alien to remove from the face of the Earth a newly-arrived species of modified apes whose haughtiness blinds them from their evil, how can it be pathological that one of the terrestrials reaches the same conclusion? Just because, unlike the visitor, he does not have technological power?
The sad truth is that infanticide and human cruelty have not been atoned inwardly, only transferred onto our cousins.
In DW I spoke of the Star-Child. An eschatology from above would be a son of man returning on the clouds with great power and glory to judge mankind, or, in the new version of the myth, a David Bowman in a sphere of light approaching the Earth as in Kubrick’s film. But since I’m skeptical of both personal deities and intelligent civilizations in the Milky Way, I could conceive, rather than an eschatology “from above” an eschatology “from below.” I refer to the intra-psychic evolution of a human being while developing an infinitely more intense empathy of what the bulk of modified apes (whom I call Neanderthals) have developed.
The rhetoric currently in use among the protectors of children and animals in the West is only a first stammering of what we have in mind. Unlike the hypothetical Star-Child, the most fanatical “animal rights” activists whom I have personally met don’t even dare to see that, besides humans, other species must be removed from the Earth and its oceans. A Star-Child with mile-high empathy and powers would not tolerate, for example, the torture of several hours that a pack of killer whales inflict a whale calf while killing it to rip off its tongue. And pictures of hyenas eating a little elephant alive—there are video recordings of how a member of the pack rips the trunk of the alive elephant—speak for themselves and do not need lucubration on how we would proceed.
Animal-on-animal cruelty aside, the hatred that the metamorphosed human also feels for other modified apes around him can be glimpsed in the following anecdote. Before I went to England with plans to emigrate, I left my pet in the damned house that, as we saw in the fifth book of HS, is virtually on Tlalpan Viaduct: a freeway that goes on the road to Cuernavaca where trucks and cars constantly pass, even well after midnight. Seeing my bunny in a cultivated garden that is paradise for him, but surrounded by such noise, especially at night, I imagined—with powers à la Bowman—eliminating all and every one of the Mexicans who drive that stretch of the road to avoid the background roar for my bunny. Such fantasy would not seem outlandish if, on a new scale of values, we value the modified apes negatively; and noble species of animals including lagomorph mammals, positively regardless of the relative size of their brains or sophistication of their culture.
It does not matter that to clean Tlalpan Viaduct from humans it requires to eliminate millions of Mexicans, as there are millions who take that road. The interests of a single animal trump the interests of millions of humans, insofar as the modified apes are valued on the negative side of our scale. With the exception of a few nymphs as beautiful as Catalina who reside here, no inhabitant of this city is worth it—of male Criollos for example, I know exactly no one with honor or true nobility of soul. The sum of millions of modified apes in this city that Farnham O’Reilly declared that needs to be razed and transformed into a memorial atonement park dedicated to Nature does not give a positive for the mere fact that they are millions. It gives a large negative. Conversely, a single modified dinosaur (contemporary bird) or a lagomorph, as much as modest and discreet its life may be, is a small positive. The arithmetic with which the Star-Child judges the species on Earth, including Homo sapiens, has little to do with the standards about the “positive” and “negative” for humans.
A world of cultivated forests and Percys never again to be tortured by monstrous whites or of any other skin color is what shall inherit the Earth. It cannot be more significant that my most important works, Hojas Susurrantes and this one I am starting, Extermination, are dedicated to non-humans: a tree and a bunny.
In the final chapter of Childhood’s End the metamorphosed children eliminated all animal and plant life, except their own. I do not think we need to go that far. In the laws of the universe there is an Aristotelian golden mean between the apocalyptic children of the end and the law of the jungle that currently impose the naked apes. The mean is turning the world into an Elysian island. Young Clarke just past thirty beautifully described that place with his prose: the city of Lys in his first novel, Against the Fall of Night where, besides some animals, an evolved form of human being is allowed—a human where empathy is imposed and the original sin is gone. But let us go down the heights of the genuine science fiction for a moment and return to the real world.
The monastic orders wrought by the Spanish crown alongside the soldiery, including some mendicant orders that protected the natives, did not represent a genuine empathy. The 16th century Spain was Quixote; and these orders represented a counterproductive version of empathy or compassion for those who suffer. What the Franciscans, Dominicans, Augustinians and eventually the Jesuits did in the Americas was quixotic folly: to conceive the naturals as souls to be saved.
In Tasmania and the Caribbean islands the Europeans would exterminate the natives but not having exterminated them in the American continent led to, over the Colonial period, the natives’ displacement of their sadism onto both their offspring (as we saw in HS) as the animals. If instead of catechizing they would have cornered the natives, as Americans would do in this continent, the New Spaniard psychoclass in the Americas would have reflected the Iberian psychoclass undyed of Mesoamerican sadism. The social engineering of the Counter-Reformation was the big culprit for the gestation of a mesticized cruelty between Spanish bullfighting and Amerindian sacrificial passion in this huge part of the continent.
The next chapter describes the stubborn infatuation of my father for the Dominican monk who protected Amerindians the most and originated, with his lamentations, the Black Legend against Spain. At the moment we can only say that the basis of my feelings towards humanity are already in these pages albeit very, very lightly sketched. HS was like the tunnel Dave suddenly found himself in: a vortex of colored lights where, terrified, he traveled at great speed across vast distances in space, viewing bizarre cosmological phenomena and strange landscapes of unusual colors. But HS ends before the final metamorphosis, before the new Odysseus discovers himself as middle aged in a bedroom designed in Louis XVI style; seeing progressively later versions of himself and, finally, as a very old man lying on a bed.
The rest of this book will explain how, due to the evilness in my family and society—Evil with capital E—, with no need of extraterrestrial agency as a black monolith at the foot of a bed for a centenarian elder dying in that bedroom, I suffered an inner metamorphosis and now come back to hate humanity so much as the Star-Child hated it.