Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.

Each time a little more bruised and wearied by the ways of the world, but a little more enlightened also.

Each time a little bloodier and more broken by the pointless cruelty and barbarity of our species. Our tear stained horrified eyes that much more opened to the truth.

Falling. Again and again. Dragging our battered mangled scarred and strangled animate corpses to their feet. Our minds descending into madness at the pointless empty ghastliness of it all until anything which ever held beauty for us is a blasted and incinerated pile of spoilt ash.

Which ash we mix with our own blood to daub upon our diseased skin to serve as warpaint. As we charge onward once more striving for what we thought was glory and treasure, but which we now see was nothing more than a yawning abyss of nothing.

Nothing whatsoever at all.

March or die!

March or die!

Tread this anvil of the earth and feel the striking hammer of the dying sun above, as the ozone layer is stripped away by the endless clouds of noxious poison we gleefully burp and belch into the air.

March or die!

March or die!

Happily choking this bright and glorious garden with the wretched stinking vapors and fumes of our own suicidal stupidity and ignorance.


Our greatest gory glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.

Until the butchers blade falls for the final time.

So smile. Be happy. Dance and sing and laugh.

It’s all fine.


Ahddub Yttihs.