This Bestial Life

What have I been experiencing and describing for the past couple of months?

Ever read Ayn Rand's Fountainhead?
What I have been discussing is none other than Steven Mallory's Beast, that aggregate creature let loose in mankind to prey on humans such as me.

If you recall, Mallory identified Toohey as a man who controlled this beast and tried to shoot him.

This was nothing more than a self-sacrificial gesture, something I would never do these days.

My watch-phrase is,"Every evil has a point of delivery."

This means that there is no such thing as a random event in knowingly deliberate social interaction; this means that evil can be resisted at every step.

Indeed, it must be resisted.

One effective way of resisting this is to fight it with methods which are outside the actors field of reference. When some garbage coughs behind your back, it expects you to look around or cringe or do nothing.
They don't expect abusive mimicry.

They also are often unprepared for the scale of their own reaction, which is misery and hatred.

But these individuals(if you care and can be bothered, maybe once a month when the bastards rile you)won't do it casually again to you. They'll avoid you.

The packet of meaning which is attached to these thugs deliberations is staggering in its depth and complexity, and it can only be concluded that many millions of people around the world, and especially in England, are essentially insane at any time they detect me or someone like me.

The irony is that in their rotten cowardice, which they sense, they throw all caution to the wind to express their hatred.
In other words, they attack in order to do evil, but are so cowardly they would never actually defend themselves against the same.

To be exposed to these sociological exchanges in England is a bore, a commonplace, but to be unable to avoid them in any place in the country, where you cannot earn your way out honestly or even dishonestly, and to be pinned down like a specimen on a dissection board in your own home is outrage.

What is amazing is that an alleged newcomer would fasten onto me, an unknown and unmet stranger, who has done nothing except live in innocence for years, suggests some sort of sponsorship; somebody put the beast my way; or else supernatural sensitivity and understanding that could only follow from scientifically researched training.

Either option implies organisation.

It could be unusually bad luck, but why would some newcomer arrive loaded for Lion?
No curtains, but an industrial stereo?
Perhaps it is simply that this unfortunate creature is a serial evictee, a chronic abuser who doesn't work, but instead exists to 'play games', ie cause suffering among innocents?
That seems most likely.

The organisation is a simple consequence of having established a client population; it is socialised philosophy; therin lies the plot.
There may even be a fat bastard pulling strings somewhere in political existencel, but he is only a gamer too.

The real problem is that housing which is not physically seperate is the crucible of holocaust.
Housing which is, may merely be a setting for crimes.

Le Corbusier started the housing system ball rolling in France; but he built sound-proofed, isolated units using quality materials.
His imitators all around the world did not care to take the trouble.

And so we live in bee-hives, without honey, and without busy-bee busy-ness, lorded over and robbed of our happiness, our self-made happiness, by any casual piece of trash that cares to raise a hand or throw a ball or shriek, literally and incoherently, its savagery.

Their minds have collapsed, so they seek to rest on ours like a pus-stained blanket.

But by not responding in co-dependent kind, we rob them of our support.


Sorry 'bout that.