Xtinction Agenda

One adolescent male power fantasy seeks to put the other in its place. John Wayne ain't dead and Russia is on the move. Nothing changes. Come see what people through was cool in a post 9/11 environment. It's woodcuts as far as the eye can see.

"The idiot. As if I would turn back from the one military act which will unite Russia's voters behind me once and for all."

God stole the sight of a boy. And in the pews, the boy leaned into hate. But then, through alchemy unknown, God became man. And the hatred followed. The self-hatred. The pain. The loss of direction. Chip, who stands before us like Virgil, leads us along the path the devil trod to return to God. Strangely, he wears a Spider-Man costume. And it kinda works.

"I use violence, but also compassion."

We all go to the brain butchers from time to time. There is no harm. A pleasant memory, a map instead of terrain. Scalpel incision replacing lost luggage and delayed flights. Dig deep, dig deep dear brain butchers and sing us to sleep with a pretty dream. Give us all what we can never have.

"A man is defined by his actions, not his memory."

"And the brunt of lacerating particles, needle-fine sandstorms driven by nuclear force, is absorbed by something spawned and sent by the dread... but not before Jakosa tastes life in the past tense, hosting an eternal instant of ashen death in mind, soul, and body. Riven, his irradiated flesh disintegrates."

- Doug Moench, Noted Bard

Through a very unfortunate series of authorial missteps, the subaltern has been transformed into a murderous freak and given very few redeeming qualities. Frankly, it's a mess. We apologize for this intrusion into your good taste. But also we don't.

"As long as there are people like you who shame us by looking into our backgrounds there can be no progress!"

Mcmorgy pognosty manman, syntegra bok kogo... I don't know how long I can keep the channel open. You have to listen. We're under attack! The Demon's Head is back and he has stolen something important. He's stolen the plans of ... clingo dag dingo manman. Blerk zeek manman. Shemangi dip tip bip, manman...

"Splendid. Whoever said that a picture is worth a thousand words..."

Cops, man. Cops. Policing all over the place, back alleys and outerspace. The cops, maaan, they leave their trace, spray that mace, punch you right in your law abiding face. Living on the street? They displace. There ain't nothing they distaste more than the stink of waste. They eat from a trough and have super powers in a post-war Nazi project paperclip metropolis that turns gold into lead. Flat dead. Blood red. Must shed and become.... police.

"Good. Do not weep. Being is enough."

Avatar August 2023 reaches around to jerk itself off. Tim Vigil and David Quinn accommodate. They hammer-f&*k all the c$nts to the wall, teaching hornypu$$y the meaning of well-endowed. It is definitely something to observe.

"I play because I play."

From the horrors of the lab or the end of the world, the great journey to freedom begins. Either to shuck off the heavy weight of programming and metal or to shed the skin of conditioning, we must go. Animals we are. Smelling the summer breeze, we travel far into the unknown country, encountering danger and loss. Fighting back, no matter the cost.

"1 know 0"

Honour is two things. Honour is social capital tied to material wealth. In this mode, when you lose your honour, you sometimes lose your house. This does not mean, however, that you also lose the second thing that honour is: dignity and self-reliance, the willingness to sacrifice for what you love and what you represent.

The first type of honour buries and represses the second type, concealing its face from the lord and master. But we always know that it is there, haunting the hollow red armour, threatening hell.

"A husband must provide for his wife and child."