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Peter Sweat
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Anti-Communist | Anti-Woke | Bitcoin | Political Satire Truth is not narrative. Narrative is not truth.

"What is in the sky?"

"The firmament. You can learn all about it or just accept that smarter people than yourself are passing on divine knowledge after studying scripture."

These dipshits will all claim to be atheist but don't realize they're in a cult and replaced God with science.

The males replaced God with science worship. The females replaced God with "the universe" and crystals.

"The universe wanted this to happen!"

"Trust the universe, it knows what it's doing."

"The universe is sending you a message, listen."

No such thing as an “Atheist.” They just replace God with themselves. They think they are gods.

What is this stuff?

Start holding judges and prosecutors criminally liable if they release a dangerous person out onto the streets and they harm someone.

Imagine a system where the logic is present, the structure exists, but none of the components are meaningful, or even executable, unless an external, time-sensitive, or unpredictable key is inserted that deciphers the role of each variable.

The system can't even remember how to be alive unless the key teaches it what its own parts mean.

price(t) = A * sin(Bt + C) + D

Hallelujah amen look at 'er go

Crypto is fighting back onward and upward today. Better get your buy in.

Communists Demonrats Socialists

Their groups are like military commandos.

Each group specialized in its particular fashion.

Each with the overall goal of a communist world government.

Abortion, anti-natalists, homosexuality, drug suppliers, euthanasia, etc....

Attack the family and procreation. The absolute destruction of a whole nation.

Climate Change scammers attack the infrastructure, energy production, and wealth of the nation.

Atheists Satanists, and divercity attack the homogeneous Christian faith and family. Future degrading a cohesive nation.

Bankers, massive debt incurred by people and government alike destroys the economic wealth of the nation.

The media supplies the propaganda to insure only their version of the events is heard.

Video welfare, gaming and pornographie destroys the sound and body of the people.

Corrupt practices gives the communist groups blackmail power over the government members who are not communists. Like the RINOs.

These communist commandos have infiltrated deep into the government, churches, banks, and other government and non-governmental agencies.

They are currently working and resisting, using an old manual from the CIA called Simple Sabotage. Each members does something small, but taken as a group of a few million, their total damage is spectacular.

They function best when their do not have the power. Any attack is there on the enemy.

We can not use those techniques against them because we would be attacking ourselves.

Our only option is to dismantle the communists organizations and remove them from office under the Anti Communism Act of 1954.

It requires us to disregard our own rules and laws to act upon them. They on the other hand use our laws and freedoms against us.

In other words: It will take a war. And that too will play into the communists' hands.

All because we did not stop them in the early 1920s.

nostr:nevent1qqs92487ky2nztav27ul234csyu8fm9tw7czxmeh3n6lpn25cxk800spz3mhxue69uhkummnw3ezummcw3ezuer9wcpzqx7m0n042ty9zm0jsm3c2dr7h4tq36jzhy0vr96ztwtw00rwqnqwqvzqqqqqqyt0drd9

I believe marxism is a theology rather than a political ideology and it's leaked across a borderless internet from the far east. Collectivist attitudes too. Also this type of "shaming culture" that emerges more and more. All priming the pump for social credit scores.

I was push mowing my yard with headphones on a while back with a very small window of time before my son's bus. A car pulled up, rolled down their window and started talking to me. I made eye contact and then continued mowing just as I was. They acted pissed at being ignored and drove away. Some may think this is rude behavior on my part. But from my perspective, it's rude and entitled to expect a complete stranger to stop what they are doing to tend to whatever you want. People aren’t background characters to your story. Now get off my lawn!

Replying to Avatar Peter Sweat

The Anti-Natalist Death Drive:

[Why some choose not to reproduce—and why others want you to stop too]

In recent years, a quiet but increasingly aggressive ideology has started to take hold online: anti-natalism—the belief that bringing new life into the world is inherently immoral. What once sounded like a fringe philosophical stance has evolved into something more dogmatic. It’s no longer just a private decision. For some, it’s become a moral campaign.

It used to be enough to simply say, “I don’t want kids.” That’s a personal decision, and it deserves respect. But something shifted.

Now, for a growing subset of activists and influencers, it’s not just about opting out. It’s about talking you out of it. It’s about shaming those who find joy in family, mocking children, and portraying parents as selfish or delusional. This isn’t framed as a lifestyle choice—it’s a moral obligation. They don’t see children as possibilities. They see them as mistakes.

And while these arguments often wear the clothing of climate concern or ethical reflection, there’s often something darker underneath. A resentment. A bitterness. A rejection of life itself.

When the Virtue Is Not Existing:

There are people who say they don’t want to have children because the world is difficult. That’s fair. No one should be forced into parenthood. But there’s a growing number who go further and insist no one should have children. And the reasoning they give can sound virtuous on the surface—until you stop and actually examine it.

Let’s look at the emotional core of some of the rhetoric:

“I’m enlightened enough to see how awful the world is, and noble enough to break the cycle.”

This is the performance of moral superiority. It frames the absence of children not as a personal lifestyle decision, but as a sacrifice for the good of humanity. It’s not just “I don’t want kids”—it’s “I’m brave enough to not continue the cycle.”

This logic creates a new moral hierarchy. In it, reproduction isn’t neutral—it’s selfish. Life itself becomes a guilty act. And those who refuse to participate are elevated as the most ethical of all.

But this worldview isn’t brave. It’s cynical. It denies the possibility that life can be more than suffering. It assumes that pain is the default and that beauty, love, and purpose are illusions. It gives people a sense of superiority not by doing anything, but by withholding—as if that alone makes them wise.

“I feel broken. The world feels broken. So let’s stop making more of it.”

This isn’t a philosophical stance—it’s a projection of personal pain. And it's everywhere.

Some people have suffered. Some feel isolated, depressed, or deeply wounded. Instead of healing, they turn that pain outward and call it clarity. “Because I suffer, life itself must be broken.”

This leads to a false universal: the belief that the world is too cruel for anyone. That it’s better to never be born than to risk pain. But this isn’t about compassion. It’s about fear. It’s about trying to prevent the experience of others by assuming their suffering in advance.

People who carry this belief aren’t wrong to feel hurt—but they are wrong to insist that no one else should try to build joy, to grow, or to hope.

“Why should you get to feel joy and legacy when I only see decay?”

Here’s where the mask really drops. This isn’t about ethics. It’s about envy.

Some of the online rhetoric isn’t quiet despair. It’s loud, bitter resentment. Hatred of children. Hatred of parents. Hatred of people who have the nerve to feel joy or meaning in a world they think is beyond redemption.

Children represent potential, innocence, and future. Families represent connection. In the eyes of someone who has lost connection to meaning, those things can look like insults. It becomes, “If I can’t have joy, you shouldn’t either.” That’s not moral reasoning. That’s spite.

This is the emotional root of so much of the hostility you now see online—especially toward women who choose motherhood, toward families who celebrate life, and toward anyone who believes the future is worth building.

But Haven’t the Greatest Among Us Also Suffered?

Yes. And that’s exactly why the anti-natalist argument falls flat.

Human greatness is not built in the absence of suffering. It’s built in response to it.

Frederick Douglass escaped slavery and turned his pain into a lifelong fight for justice. Frida Kahlo painted through agony and made art that still speaks across generations. Joseph Lister was mocked for saying germs were real. He saved millions by refusing to back down. Stephen Hawking, imprisoned in his own body, gave us visions of the universe that changed the way we think about time, space, and existence itself.

All of them suffered. And all of them used that suffering to move the world forward.

Pain alone isn’t what makes life meaningful. But what we do with pain—that’s where meaning is born.

The Desire to Create Is Not the Problem:

Human innovation is rooted in struggle. Fire, medicine, music, freedom, flight—none of these came from comfort. They came from tension, danger, fear, and persistence. If the world had always been safe and easy, we would never have built anything. We would never have needed to.

That doesn’t mean suffering is good. It means humans are good enough to overcome it.

That’s something the anti-natalist can’t acknowledge. To them, the existence of suffering invalidates life itself. But the truth is the opposite: the existence of life that pushes through suffering is what makes humanity worth preserving.

You Don’t Have to Reproduce to Respect Life:

If someone doesn’t want children, fine. That’s their decision. It doesn’t make them less human.

But the moment that decision turns outward—into contempt, into scorn, into a doctrine that says, “You’re selfish for hoping, you’re deluded for building, you’re blind for loving”—they’re no longer just opting out. They’re trying to pull others down with them.

You can live a childfree life and still love humanity.

You can choose not to bring children into the world and still believe the world is worth something.

But if your worldview requires everyone else to give up on meaning, on love, on legacy, or on the possibility that things can get better—then it’s not compassion you’re preaching. It’s despair.

Benatar, D. (2006). Better Never to Have Been: The Harm of Coming into Existence. Oxford University Press.

Metz, T. (2011). The meaningful and the worthwhile: Clarifying the distinctions. The Philosophical Forum, 42(3), 319–338.

Frankl, V. E. (2006). Man’s Search for Meaning. Beacon Press. (Original work published 1946)

Yalom, I. D. (1980). Existential Psychotherapy. Basic Books.

Stern, A. M. (2005). Eugenic Nation: Faults and Frontiers of Better Breeding in Modern America. University of California Press.

Roberts, D. E. (1997). Killing the Black Body: Race, Reproduction, and the Meaning of Liberty. Vintage Books.

Kevles, D. J. (1985). In the Name of Eugenics: Genetics and the Uses of Human Heredity. Harvard University Press.

Regis, E. (1980). A Philosophy of Misanthropy. Philosophy, 55(212), 109–114.

Routledge, C., & Vess, M. (2019). Exploring the Psychology of Meaning in Life: An Integrative Approach. Routledge.

https://betweentheshouldersblog.wordpress.com/2025/08/03/the-anti-natalist-death-drive-3/

The Anti-Natalist Death Drive:

[Why some choose not to reproduce—and why others want you to stop too]

In recent years, a quiet but increasingly aggressive ideology has started to take hold online: anti-natalism—the belief that bringing new life into the world is inherently immoral. What once sounded like a fringe philosophical stance has evolved into something more dogmatic. It’s no longer just a private decision. For some, it’s become a moral campaign.

It used to be enough to simply say, “I don’t want kids.” That’s a personal decision, and it deserves respect. But something shifted.

Now, for a growing subset of activists and influencers, it’s not just about opting out. It’s about talking you out of it. It’s about shaming those who find joy in family, mocking children, and portraying parents as selfish or delusional. This isn’t framed as a lifestyle choice—it’s a moral obligation. They don’t see children as possibilities. They see them as mistakes.

And while these arguments often wear the clothing of climate concern or ethical reflection, there’s often something darker underneath. A resentment. A bitterness. A rejection of life itself.

When the Virtue Is Not Existing:

There are people who say they don’t want to have children because the world is difficult. That’s fair. No one should be forced into parenthood. But there’s a growing number who go further and insist no one should have children. And the reasoning they give can sound virtuous on the surface—until you stop and actually examine it.

Let’s look at the emotional core of some of the rhetoric:

“I’m enlightened enough to see how awful the world is, and noble enough to break the cycle.”

This is the performance of moral superiority. It frames the absence of children not as a personal lifestyle decision, but as a sacrifice for the good of humanity. It’s not just “I don’t want kids”—it’s “I’m brave enough to not continue the cycle.”

This logic creates a new moral hierarchy. In it, reproduction isn’t neutral—it’s selfish. Life itself becomes a guilty act. And those who refuse to participate are elevated as the most ethical of all.

But this worldview isn’t brave. It’s cynical. It denies the possibility that life can be more than suffering. It assumes that pain is the default and that beauty, love, and purpose are illusions. It gives people a sense of superiority not by doing anything, but by withholding—as if that alone makes them wise.

“I feel broken. The world feels broken. So let’s stop making more of it.”

This isn’t a philosophical stance—it’s a projection of personal pain. And it's everywhere.

Some people have suffered. Some feel isolated, depressed, or deeply wounded. Instead of healing, they turn that pain outward and call it clarity. “Because I suffer, life itself must be broken.”

This leads to a false universal: the belief that the world is too cruel for anyone. That it’s better to never be born than to risk pain. But this isn’t about compassion. It’s about fear. It’s about trying to prevent the experience of others by assuming their suffering in advance.

People who carry this belief aren’t wrong to feel hurt—but they are wrong to insist that no one else should try to build joy, to grow, or to hope.

“Why should you get to feel joy and legacy when I only see decay?”

Here’s where the mask really drops. This isn’t about ethics. It’s about envy.

Some of the online rhetoric isn’t quiet despair. It’s loud, bitter resentment. Hatred of children. Hatred of parents. Hatred of people who have the nerve to feel joy or meaning in a world they think is beyond redemption.

Children represent potential, innocence, and future. Families represent connection. In the eyes of someone who has lost connection to meaning, those things can look like insults. It becomes, “If I can’t have joy, you shouldn’t either.” That’s not moral reasoning. That’s spite.

This is the emotional root of so much of the hostility you now see online—especially toward women who choose motherhood, toward families who celebrate life, and toward anyone who believes the future is worth building.

But Haven’t the Greatest Among Us Also Suffered?

Yes. And that’s exactly why the anti-natalist argument falls flat.

Human greatness is not built in the absence of suffering. It’s built in response to it.

Frederick Douglass escaped slavery and turned his pain into a lifelong fight for justice. Frida Kahlo painted through agony and made art that still speaks across generations. Joseph Lister was mocked for saying germs were real. He saved millions by refusing to back down. Stephen Hawking, imprisoned in his own body, gave us visions of the universe that changed the way we think about time, space, and existence itself.

All of them suffered. And all of them used that suffering to move the world forward.

Pain alone isn’t what makes life meaningful. But what we do with pain—that’s where meaning is born.

The Desire to Create Is Not the Problem:

Human innovation is rooted in struggle. Fire, medicine, music, freedom, flight—none of these came from comfort. They came from tension, danger, fear, and persistence. If the world had always been safe and easy, we would never have built anything. We would never have needed to.

That doesn’t mean suffering is good. It means humans are good enough to overcome it.

That’s something the anti-natalist can’t acknowledge. To them, the existence of suffering invalidates life itself. But the truth is the opposite: the existence of life that pushes through suffering is what makes humanity worth preserving.

You Don’t Have to Reproduce to Respect Life:

If someone doesn’t want children, fine. That’s their decision. It doesn’t make them less human.

But the moment that decision turns outward—into contempt, into scorn, into a doctrine that says, “You’re selfish for hoping, you’re deluded for building, you’re blind for loving”—they’re no longer just opting out. They’re trying to pull others down with them.

You can live a childfree life and still love humanity.

You can choose not to bring children into the world and still believe the world is worth something.

But if your worldview requires everyone else to give up on meaning, on love, on legacy, or on the possibility that things can get better—then it’s not compassion you’re preaching. It’s despair.

Ridicule is a tax paid by pioneers.

it feels like some people, especially on the left, treat language like a secret cipher, like they're in on some hidden knowledge and you're just too dumb to notice

When does the weight of evidence outweigh the desire for things to be otherwise?

What REALLY was "the whole Qanon thing"? I have a sort of theory of everything. Here it is.

------------------

The Coup That Didn’t Look Like One:

What if Q wasn’t the rebellion, but the pacifier?

Something happened in 2016 that wasn’t supposed to happen.

The wrong man won.

He wasn’t meant to be there. Not because he lacked qualifications, but because he wasn’t part of the arrangement. He wasn’t vetted, approved, or aligned with the right networks. He had no real loyalty to the bureaucratic class or its rituals. He was loud, improvisational, and hard to control. A symbol, to many, of everything the system was supposed to prevent.

To the people running things, it wasn’t just a political loss. It was a crisis of legitimacy.

And they never really recovered from it.

What followed wasn’t a response. It was a reaction. Deep, coordinated, and sustained. Call it a tantrum, but with structure.

The media that helped lift Trump in the primaries, thinking he’d be an easy kill for Hillary, pivoted instantly to containment. The intelligence community that had already launched surveillance under flimsy pretexts leaned harder into it. Russiagate became the scaffolding for four years of soft sabotage. Not to correct course, but to send a message: this wasn’t supposed to happen, and it won’t happen again.

And then, right on cue, came Q.

Zoom out just a bit, and the theory writes itself. A bizarre online movement emerges, encouraging Trump’s most loyal supporters to do... nothing. To wait. To “trust the plan.” To believe, against all odds, that everything was under control and that secret forces were about to save the country.

It looked like resistance. But it wasn’t.

It was sedation.

Q gave people riddles instead of roadmaps. Fantasies instead of action. While institutions quietly tightened their grip, the base sat back and watched, waiting for the arrests that never came. It may have been the most effective pacification op in modern political history. It never needed to convince everyone. Just enough to slow them down.

And while that was happening, Trump’s administration was hollowed out. Disloyal appointees. Constant leaks. Bad advice. Impeachments. From the outside it looked like dysfunction. From the inside, it looked like a wall. Designed not to protect him, but to isolate him.

Then came 2020.

And with it, COVID. The perfect storm. Public fear, emergency powers, behavioral controls, and just enough justification to rewrite the rules. Lockdowns. Ballot changes. Months of voting by mail. And somehow, Joe Biden won.

It didn’t matter that he barely campaigned. Or that he was visibly fading. He wasn’t the candidate. He was the vehicle. The stand-in for the return of control to the people who thought it was always theirs.

Some of them never left.

If you see Biden as a figurehead, it makes sense to ask who is actually running things. And if you trace the names, the policies, the continuity, the answer is not hard to find. The Obama-era crew stayed active. Bureaucrats, legal minds, consultants, intel officials. They didn’t need to win elections. They just needed to manage outcomes.

Meanwhile, democratic processes kept dissolving. The DNC hasn’t had a real primary since 2012. Candidates are introduced, not chosen. Opposition is filtered, flagged, and reframed as extremism. The idea that someone outside the network could win again is treated as a threat, not a possibility.

So when they say “our democracy is under attack,” it’s worth asking: what do they mean by our?

Because to them, democracy means their control of the institutions. Their grip on the narrative. Their power to decide what counts.

Which brings us back to the start.

The real coup didn’t happen on January 6. It didn’t need to. It happened quietly. It happened through agencies, platforms, courts, and headlines. It happened through years of narrative scaffolding. It happened while people were told to “trust the plan.”

And it worked.

#nostr #politics #usa

#Stoicism also helped me accept that people will do what they do.

You can’t control others...they have their own thoughts, their own choices.

That realization made me a better communicator.

Instead of rambling like a nervous salesman trying to win someone over, I learned to just say what I meant and let it be.

Before, I struggled in social situations. Trying to manage every detail of a conversation takes a ton of mental bandwidth. Stoicism gave me some of that back.

If a person costs more than they produce, socialism whispers: eliminate.

The state can’t calculate the value of a single life, so it assigns averages.

But averages don’t bleed. #nostr

Planned economies always start with promises of care.

But once you centralize power, compassion becomes a bottleneck.

#nostr

Technocracy pretends to be neutral.

But every algorithm reflects the fears of the powerful, and the expendability of the powerless.

There’s no such thing as humane central control. #nostr

The same mindset that tries to “optimize society” always ends up sterilizing it.

Not literally, at first. But spiritually. #nostr

When the government pays for your care, it owns your worth.

When the government pays for your care, it owns your worth.

Watch what they do to the outliers.

Children who don’t comply. Elderly who cost too much. Disabled who linger.

When language stops reflecting reality, power fills the gap.

In 1932, the USSR declared famine was “rural malnutrition.”

Today, mutilating a child is “affirming care.”

Disband the FBI. Too much ideological rot.

It is SO MUCH easier to spot and filter political #astroturfing on #nostr

I really enjoy the flexibility of this app.

It was nice being alive with y'all.