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Topics - reanteben

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The Kitchen Sink / RIP: russell means
« on: October 22, 2012, 02:08:23 PM »
laws are made for lawless people

Hello our relatives. Our dad and husband, now walks among our ancestors. He began his journey to the spirit world at 4:44 am, with the Morning Star, at his home and ranch in Porcupine. There will be four opportunities for the people to honor his life, to be announced at a later date. Thank you for your prayers and continued support. We love you. As our dad and husband would always say, “May the Great Mystery continue to guide and protect the paths of you and your loved ones.”

Mitakuye Oyasin,

The wife and children of Russell Means

444 Crazy Horse Drive

Pahin Sinte, Republic of Lakotah

Spirituality & Mysticism / the control system
« on: June 16, 2012, 02:59:14 AM »
i really enjoyed this 80min interview with neil kramer today:

the five classes of neil's Control System:


"everybody knows when they're being authentic or they're being inauthentic."

"[the control system is] built on unawareness... [it's beginning] to dissolve and if our lives are attached to a system that's dissolving then we feel a great unrest... and we wonder what the hell is gonna be around the corner. we tend to indulge ourselves in pessimism... this is unnacceptable...this mainstream edifice has already disappeared...the only deceit that the control system can put upon us is a disempowering deception. if you look at the new physics...this place really is held intelligence. we generate the reality. if we don't shape our reality then we live in their begins with the way you think, it begins with the way you feel."

"there's an incredible temptation to put the ills of the world onto somebody. we own it. everything becomes more dense the more it is disavowed. that density becomes so profound...that it separates off and becomes the adversary. if we wanna get rid of the old take responsibility for our own consciousness because that is the thing that feeds the system. that's all they get from us...that is our creation. we created it because we disowned our shadow...[the control system is] channeling the disowned shadow."

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The Kitchen Sink / it wasn't me that reposted my old posts
« on: June 11, 2012, 06:27:38 PM »
just checked in and saw all the reanteben reposts. can someone who remembers how to delete en masse do that for me? i'm on my phone today. thanks.

Geopolitics / the invisible committee: france 2005
« on: June 04, 2012, 01:36:09 AM »
the coming insurrection by The Invisible Committee

insurrectionary communist call to arms, originally published in France in 2005

two excerpts:

First Circle


“I AM WHAT I AM.” This is marketing’s latest offering to the world, the final stage in the development of advertising, far beyond all the exhortations to be different, to be oneself and drink Pepsi. Decades of concepts in order to get where we are, to arrive at pure tautology. I = I. He’s running on a treadmill in front of the mirror in his gym. She’s coming back from work, behind the wheel of her Smart car. Will they meet?

“I AM WHAT I AM.” My body belongs to me. I am me, you are you, and something’s wrong. Mass personalization. Individualization of all conditions – life, work and misery. Diffuse schizophrenia. Rampant depression. Atomization into fine paranoiac particles. Hysterization of contact. The more I want to be me, the more I feel an emptiness. The more I express myself, the more I am drained. The more I run after myself, the more tired I get. We cling to our self like a coveted job title. We’ve become our own representatives in a strange commerce, guarantors of a personalization that feels, in the end, a lot more like an amputation. We insure our selves to the point of bankruptcy, with a more or less disguised clumsiness.

Meanwhile, I manage. The quest for a self, my blog, my apartment, the latest fashionable crap, relationship dramas, who’s fucking who… whatever prosthesis it takes to hold onto an “I”! If “society” hadn’t become such a definitive abstraction, then it would denote all the existential crutches that allow me to keep dragging on, the ensemble of dependencies I’ve contracted as the price of my identity. The handicapped person is the model citizen of tomorrow. It’s not without foresight that the associations exploiting them today demand that they be granted a “subsistence income.”

The injunction, everywhere, to “be someone” maintains the pathological state that makes this society necessary. The injunction to be strong produces the very weakness by which it maintains itself, so that everything seems to take on a therapeutic character, even working, even love. All those “how’s it goings?” that we exchange give the impression of a society composed of patients taking each other’s temperatures. Sociability is now made up of a thousand little niches, a thousand little refuges where you can take shelter. Where it’s always better than the bitter cold outside. Where everything’s false, since it’s all just a pretext for getting warmed up. Where nothing can happen since we’re all too busy shivering silently together. Soon this society will only be held together by the mere tension of all the social atoms straining towards an illusory cure. It’s a power plant that runs its turbines on a gigantic reservoir of unwept tears, always on the verge of spilling over.

“I AM WHAT I AM.” Never has domination found such an innocent-sounding slogan. The maintenance of the self in a permanent state of deterioration, in a chronic state of near-collapse, is the best-kept secret of the present order of things. The weak, depressed, self-critical, virtual self is essentially that endlessly adaptable subject required by the ceaseless innovation of production, the accelerated obsolescence of technologies, the constant overturning of social norms, and generalized flexibility. It is at the same time the most voracious consumer and, paradoxically, the most productive self, the one that will most eagerly and energetically throw itself into the slightest project, only to return later to its original larval state.

“WHAT AM I,” then? Since childhood, I’ve passed through a flow of milk, smells, stories, sounds, emotions, nursery rhymes, substances, gestures, ideas, impressions, gazes, songs, and foods. What am I? Tied in every way to places, sufferings, ancestors, friends, loves, events, languages, memories, to all kinds of things that obviously are not me. Everything that attaches me to the world, all the links that constitute me, all the forces that compose me don’t form an identity, a thing displayable on cue, but a singular, shared, living existence, from which emerges – at certain times and places – that being which says “I.” Our feeling of inconsistency is simply the consequence of this foolish belief in the permanence of the self and of the little care we give to what makes us what we are.

It’s dizzying to see Reebok’s “I AM WHAT I AM” enthroned atop a Shanghai skyscraper. The West everywhere rolls out its favorite Trojan horse: the exasperating antimony between the self and the world, the individual and the group, between attachment and freedom. Freedom isn’t the act of shedding our attachments, but the practical capacity to work on them, to move around in their space, to form or dissolve them. The family only exists as a family, that is, as a hell, for those who’ve quit trying to alter its debilitating mechanisms, or don’t know how to. The freedom to uproot oneself has always been a phantasmic freedom. We can’t rid ourselves of what binds us without at the same time losing the very thing to which our forces would be applied.

“I AM WHAT I AM,” then, is not simply a lie, a simple advertising campaign, but a military campaign, a war cry directed against everything that exists between beings, against everything that circulates indistinctly, everything that invisibly links them, everything that prevents complete desolation, against everything that makes us exist, and ensures that the whole world doesn’t everywhere have the look and feel of a highway, an amusement park or a new town: pure boredom, passionless but well-ordered, empty, frozen space, where nothing moves apart from registered bodies, molecular automobiles, and ideal commodities.

France wouldn’t be the land of anxiety pills that it’s become, the paradise of anti-depressants, the Mecca of neurosis, if it weren’t also the European champion of hourly productivity. Sickness, fatigue, depression, can be seen as the individual symptoms of what needs to be cured. They contribute to the maintenance of the existing order, to my docile adjustment to idiotic norms, and to the modernization of my crutches. They specify the selection of my opportune, compliant, and productive tendencies, as well as those that must be gently discarded. “It’s never too late to change, you know.” But taken as facts, my failings can also lead to the dismantling of the hypothesis of the self. They then become acts of resistance in the current war. They become a rebellion and a force against everything that conspires to normalize us, to amputate us. The self is not some thing within us that is in a state of crisis; it is the form they mean to stamp upon us. They want to make our self something sharply defined, separate, assessable in terms of qualities, controllable, when in fact we are creatures among creatures, singularities among similars, living flesh weaving the flesh of the world. Contrary to what has been repeated to us since childhood, intelligence doesn’t mean knowing how to adapt – or if that is a kind of intelligence, it’s the intelligence of slaves. Our inadaptability, our fatigue, are only problems from the standpoint of what aims to subjugate us. They indicate rather a departure point, a meeting point, for new complicities. They reveal a landscape more damaged, but infinitely more sharable than all the fantasy lands this society maintains for its purposes.

We are not depressed; we’re on strike. For those who refuse to manage themselves, “depression” is not a state but a passage, a bowing out, a sidestep towards a political disaffiliation. From then on medication and the police are the only possible forms of conciliation. This is why the present society doesn’t hesitate to impose Ritalin on its over-active children, or to strap people into life-long dependence on pharmaceuticals, and why it claims to be able to detect “behavioral disorders” at age three. Because everywhere the hypothesis of the self is beginning to crack.

Attach yourself to what you feel to be true.

Begin there.

An encounter, a discovery, a vast wave of strikes, an earthquake: every event produces truth by changing our way of being in the world. Conversely, any observation that leaves us indifferent, doesn’t affect us, doesn’t commit us to anything, no longer deserves the name truth. There’s a truth beneath every gesture, every practice, every relationship, and every situation. We usually just avoid it, manage it, which produces the madness of so many in our era. In reality, everything involves everything else. The feeling that one is living a lie is still a truth. It is a matter of not letting it go, of starting from there. A truth isn’t a view on the world but what binds us to it in an irreducible way. A truth isn’t something we hold but something that carries us. It makes and unmakes me, constitutes and undoes me as an individual; it distances me from many and brings me closer to those who also experience it. An isolated being who holds fast to a truth will inevitably meet others like her. In fact, every insurrectional process starts from a truth that we refuse to give up. During the 1980s in Hamburg, a few inhabitants of a squatted house decided that from then on they would only be evicted over their dead bodies. A neighborhood was besieged by tanks and helicopters, with days of street battles, huge demonstrations – and a mayor who, finally, capitulated. In 1940, Georges Guingouin, the “first French resistance fighter,” started with nothing other than the certainty of his refusal of the Nazi occupation. At that time, to the Communist Party, he was nothing but a “madman living in the woods,” until there were 20,000 madmen living in the woods, and Limoges was liberated.

Don’t back away from what is political in friendship

We’ve been given a neutral idea of friendship, understood as a pure affection with no consequences. But all affinity is affinity within a common truth. Every encounter is an encounter within a common affirmation, even the affirmation of destruction. No bonds are innocent in an age when holding onto something and refusing to let go usually leads to unemployment, where you have to lie to work, and you have to keep on working in order to continue lying. People who swear by quantum physics and pursue its consequences in all domains are no less bound politically than comrades fighting against a multinational agribusiness. They will all be led, sooner or later, to defection and to combat.

Bugout Plans / wilderness evasion pdf
« on: May 26, 2012, 01:09:04 PM »
document by michael chesbro titled 'wilderness evasion: a guide to hiding our and eluding pursuit in wilderness areas'

Spirituality & Mysticism / nonduality
« on: May 20, 2012, 03:28:43 PM »
went to a meditation and q&a led by the dulcet tones of english potter rupert spira a few weeks ago. he's an uncompromising man.

where others use the words awaring and experiencing, when describing consciousness, he, perhaps counterintuitively for some, uses knowing, and it makes perfect sense to me. he also uses the term yourself to describe consciousness (as opposed to the separate self). this is also unconventional but effective. he's really good at stripping away the matrix. peace/love/beauty/happiness.

i am guessing that ross will use nondualist philosophy in order to justify his engaging in usury. :)

here is an appearance by him a few years ago, on an episode of that i found very enjoyable, followed by a couple of his pottery pieces.

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Rupert Spira 'The Transparency of Things'PT2 PRG4

The Kitchen Sink / dead man walking!
« on: May 20, 2012, 06:14:16 AM »
i present the amazing black separatist umar abdullah johnson. he might be the best public speaker i've ever seen. the O/U on his assassination is 10mos.

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Primitive Living / rewilding
« on: May 12, 2012, 03:26:02 PM »
peter bauer, aka urban scout, blogger and self-proclaimed H/G wannabe, lives in my neighborhood. i learned this today at malthusia. i think i'll have to get in touch with him. he's currently making a buckskin outfit for a stone age survival course he's attending.

here he gives a fine little half-hour presentation on rewilding, followed by an insightful hour of q&a:

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The Kitchen Sink / welcome el gallinazo!
« on: March 12, 2012, 01:10:32 PM »

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