Let me preface this story by saying that, even if what it represents were not true, I would still have nothing but contempt for the people who are waiting around for “Generation Zyklon” to save us from ourselves. There is more to respect about neocons, cuckservatives, and SJWs than there is in people who’d prefer to retire poolside, and defer mass culling events onto the next generation. Imagine what must be going on in the heart of someone who looks at a class of ten year olds and concludes “80% of these are damaged beyond repair and must be culled, but the 20% that remains will be strong—and they will save us (because you won’t catch me dying for a nation that doesn’t deserve me).”
What follows is a true story which will illustrate for you, in a nutshell, what Generation Z really is. This is the cavalry those antinatalists think is going to save them. (This is a pretty difficult problem of interpretation, and I can’t be 100% sure that I’ve gotten it right, so I’d like you to take a shot at it before reading past the break.)
My mom was out walking my sister’s dog when she saw a kid coming toward her on the sidewalk. She says he must have been between 16 and 19, judging by his scraggly attempt to grow a beard. Skinny, short white kid, sort of dark-complected like he’d been smoking his whole life: you know the type if you’ve spent any time around the lower middle class. She said hi, and he mumbled something back.
He mumbled a bit louder: “Do you know how many people I’ve killed?”
She was a bit shocked, and assumed he must be an edgelord (or whatever Baby Boomers call those) inspired by the Parkland shooting to talk tough. So she said “That’s not even funny,” and started walking again.
He ignored her and answered his own question: “Eight million.”
She told him to have a nice day and left, but that comment had taken her aback, enough so that she later came to me asking if I had an explanation for his behavior. Such is the life of a thal—nobody’s got the time of day until they need a bridge built.
The question that concerns us is not so much whether he was delusional enough to take himself seriously, but rather why he would say this to a fifty-something woman out walking the dog on a weekday evening.
The “eight million” is almost certainly a reference to the Holocaust. The statement makes sense if you presume he’s internalized the blame for historical animus between the races. In general, Generation Z has introjected the abuser after more than a decade of brainwashing by malicious authorities whose explicit desire is to convince them to kill themselves. Either he is musing out loud in the manner of men without chests, or he’s in the process of angrily rejecting the false accusation as absurd.
The solipsistic personality disorder which sees other people as the audience for self-expression, which precipitated the strange conversation, comes from the complete detachment between children and their parents. The Alt-White pagans appear to think that if only they can extract Christianity from the national consciousness, we’ll enter a Platonic paradise, aka Athens part II. They are sadly mistaken about the younger generation’s capacity for metaphysical dialectic. After so many years of being punished by postmodernist teachers for daring to make truth statements, they have ceased to believe in belief itself. The incapacity to distinguish between interpretation and facts is why Generation Z has no imagination. They don’t even understand what it would mean to distinguish between belief and reality. This is the essence of megalomania: “All is known to me and simple. There is only Truth, and those too weak to grasp it. No mystery remains, no need for further discussion. For me, all that remains is navigation—a game to acquire the power I need.”
We’re at the stage of mouse utopia where older generations would rather cull the next generation than have grandchildren and a genetic legacy.
Reduction of bodily death (i.e. ‘the second death’) culminates in survival of an excessive number of individuals that have developed the potentiality for occupying the social roles characteristic of the species. Within a few generations all such roles in all physical space available to the species are filled. At this time, the continuing high survival of many individuals to sexual and behavioural maturity culminates in the presence of many young adults capable of involvement in appropriate species-specific activities. However, there are few opportunities for fulfilling these potentialities. In seeking such fulfilment they compete for social role occupancy with the older established members of the community. This competition is so severe that it simultaneously leads to the nearly total breakdown of all normal behaviour by both the contestors and the established adults of both sexes. Normal social organization (i.e. ‘the establishment’) breaks down, it ‘dies’.
Young born during such social dissolution are rejected by their mothers and other adult associates. This early failure of social bonding becomes compounded by interruption of action cycles due to the mechanical interference resulting from the high contact rate among individuals living in a high density population. High contact rate further fragments behaviour as a result of the stochastics of social interactions which demand that, in order to maximize gratification from social interaction, intensity and duration of social interaction must be reduced in proportion to the degree that the group size exceeds the optimum. Autistic-like creatures, capable only of the most simple behaviours compatible with physiological survival, emerge out of this process. Their spirit has died (‘the first death’). They are no longer capable of executing the more complex behaviours compatible with species survival. The species in such settings die.
We’re so R-selected at this point that the distinctions between age groups have broken down. The old compete with the young, to the extent that I would not be surprised to see a father cucking his own son to sleep with his girlfriend. How many steps is it from “that’s a problem our children will face” to Lot sleeping with his own daughters? I’d propose not more than two.