I claim egoistically and antipolitically the following attacks:
1. Abandonment of an incendiary device right outside a house door.
2. A van burnt to a crisp.
3. Poisoning of soft drinks abandoned in various places of the city.
4. An RV destroyed, with just a 500 ml device, nobody was inside unfortunately.
5. Abandonment of incendiary device at a garden shed of a residential yard.
Experimentation continues. Finding the weak spots of places, of methods, but most of all of myself. To keep up the indisciminate and methodically selective indisciminate attack means to be totally awake, to be always quicker, while knowing that anything can happen. There are no ethical elements in my selection. Only criteria are the specific and even different reasons, that each time, I, myself, choose to act, which is not a value. I might choose an easy prey, something that will look more satisfying after an arson, or anything connected intimately to the inner sanctum of the humanoids. Thus in a misanthropic way violating their secure and pathetic psychological and everyday stability, something that gives me joy.
Mechanistic life continues and the limp organisms don’t even pay attention to the consumed and melted properties by the fire, as if they are totally engulfed by the error of their own existence. Nothing thrills them, if they are not in immediate danger, another day goes by.
You little humans with your stupid faces, your stupid clothes, your stupid hair and your little slimy fingers who wouldn’t hesitate for an instant to point them at me, showing me to your gods for divine retribution, if you didn’t see on me the hide of the human being. Look around you and see the world of sickness of hypocritical artificiality that you’ve made. You worms… I’m not going anywhere… I’m eager to affirm Nothingness… And wield it…
My Solus Ipse insists in eradicating everything that constitutes reality through consciousness. I enter into a blender of corrosive Negation. No idea crosses my Abyss no value emits who I am. I am the Shadow of shadows and only bludgeoning Blood is the ink on the trails of my Misanthropy.
In the sickly existence of today’s artificial dump I expedite the Russian roulette of my Egolatria, searching for either my death or of others, searching for the elimination of ”human” existence, searching for the annihilation of everything conceived by the human minds.
What are you looking for? Meaning? Fuck off! Heroic justification? Fuck off! I transcend all these petty notions of the past because I keep my eyes open and I live in this world. This world has other demands and does not allow for imaginative drugs anymore, that is, if you want to have your wits about you. Otherwise there are plenty of any kind of salvationist ideologies to choose from. I reject the numbness of the mind and all language artifacts that become the coffin of my Will. I will enjoy every moment for my own fuckin self!
I would like to destroy the whole world. But can I? No, I cannot. I would like to burn everyday and push the explosion of my anger and hate to the limit. Can I? No, I have to suppose my own regulations if I want to Live another day. Whoever imagines otherwise needs a slap in his stupid face in order to wake up from his ideological nightmare.
Complicity with ITS, Nihilist Misanthropes, Chaotic Individualists and Nihilist Terrorists!
Nihilist aggressor, Misanthropos Cacogen