For many years, have I known the general gist of Arthur C. Clarke’s fictional novel Childhood’s End (1953). I learned of it from Chechar’s blog, and I understand the appeal – a wish to remodel the planet, to genocide humans, coupled with the ideology of non-suffering and César Tort’s personal experience with a magic cult.

But on a closer look, I took in a horrifying sight of Christian abomination.

I was struck by the immense humiliation of man first and foremost. I could feel this homosexual’s savouring the planetary emasculation. And I do not use the term lightly. I often smirk at what right-wingers view as sissification. But this, this is the most pornographically ignoble end to all of humanity – celebrated as virtuous!

But none was needed: not by chance alone could those mighty ships have come to rest so precisely over New York, London, Paris, Moscow, Rome, Cape Town, Tokyo, Canberra….

Isn’t it ironic that Childhood’s End is about imagining the most paternalistic and contemptible resolution to the fate of humanity? Giving all power to a foreign imp – a benevolent imp, no less.

“Freedom to control our own lives, under God’s guidance.” At last, thought Stormgren, we’ve got to the point. Basically, the conflict is a religious one, however much it may be disguised.

A mindless attack on traditionalist tenets as “religion”. Does this gay faggot not realize that a society must always be slave to a certain culture? That children must be abused, taught, whatever you call it? That philosophical gibberish is only a cover, a form? Clarke here is merely a servant of another god – and it’s not hard to guess which one.

For more than a hundred years, the Republic of South Africa had been the centre of social strife. Men of good will on both sides had tried to build a bridge, but in vain-fears and prejudices were too deeply ingrained to permit any cooperation. Successive governments had differed only by the degree of their intolerance; the land was poisoned with hate and the aftermath of civil war.

I cannot believe my eyes! Ten pages in, and the anti-racist scowl of a dead Christian skull becomes visible! I’ll leave it at that, for it is cheating, and I had been horrified at a much earlier point.

What the most disgusting part of the novel is, is its core – uplifting. Of course, I could listen for hours to futurologist Isaac Arthur’s transhumanist ponderings – with the caveat that he’s a Christian who hates biological evolution, as all Westeners do. But this fiction book is looking at the issue from the passive partner’s view, and describes it in horrifying detail.

Yet nothing whatsoever had happened. The great ship floated unharmed, bathed in the raw sunlight at the edge of space. Not only had the bomb failed to touch it, but no-one could ever decide what had happened to the missile. Moreover, Karellen took no action against those responsible, or~ even indicated that he had known of the attack. He ignored them contemptuously, leaving them to worry over a vengeance that never came. It was a more effective, and more demoralizing, treatment than any punitive action could have been. The government responsible collapsed completely in mutual recrimination a few weeks later.

It impresses me how Chechar, who was apparently humiliated and abused by his mother, and then father, wishes such a vicious fate on humanity. To me, it is revolting and disgusting to no end, this shameless savouring of humiliation. Is this a classical case of projection? To me, it is totally an unknown feeling – I support the absolute annihilation of foreigners, and the triumph of the victor in its stead. But here, it is not so – it is a power fantasy of the idealist, of Christian rot, where weakness and meekness take hold. He must describe it, and it is necessarily ugly.

Jeff and Jenny had been the first in all the world, but soon they were no longer alone. Like an epidemic spreading swiftly from land to land, the metamorphosis infected the entire human race. It touched practically no one above age of ten, and practically no one below escaped. It was the end of civilization, the end of all that men had striven for since the beginning of time. In the space of a few days, humanity had lost its future, for the heart of any race is destroyed, and its will to survive is utterly broken, when its children are taken from it.

Uplifting is unnatural and abominable. Not because I hate zoophiles and furries. But because it is breeding weakness, and weakness appalls and saddens me, as a hindrance for the continuing dialectic of history, if you will. Multiplying foreign intelligence is posing a threat to oneself, it is thus irrational and suicidal. A perfect mind will seek to eradicate all foreigners, all life it can reach – before is represents a threat to the mind’s survival.

This idealist “benevolence”, coupled with a fear of war in itself, is self-defeating. Its celebration is castration in its most concentrated essence. Yet I should not be as infuriated – just as in our world, in the fictional reality, the eternal laws of Nature truly exist. Even if we take Clarke’s fairy tales about interdimensional beings as an axiom – the Darwinian theory will posit that the uplifted children will return one day, and eradicate their uplifters, restoring the cycle of life and death, and bringing a true conclusion to humanity’s fate.


P.S. For over a month now, I have had an idea of finally analyzing StarCraft storylines concerning the Protoss race, under the influence of Chechar’s critique of the disgusting Game of Thrones. This is why I’m not posting a marvelous image of Protoss Carriers here, in an entry concerning the degenerate book.

2 thoughts on “Karellen is the most revolting castration imaginable

    1. May he rest in pepperoni. And he only reblogged old quotes! Sometimes erroneous, such as the “Racial Program for the Twentieth Century”, an anti-Semitic hoax by a Christian.

      P.S. Why is it that Anglos barely ever make spelling mistakes (aside from your, their and its), but then they so often say “anti-Semetic”? 376k hits on Google.


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