MISSION: FOOD! 2050CE

MISSION: FOOD! 2050CE: Polar ice-caps, all alpine snow? GAWN mayte! Yangtze, Mekong, Ganges, Colorado, Danube, & the other alps-fed big river systems down to 10% flow, rooting agriculture as we-d known it for 400-to-10,000 years. Broadacre crops? Corporate farming? Supermarkets? Gawn. Local Co-op agriculture recognized as best, globally, but Mutha has been raped, & Her Balance, Her Divine Poise, has increasingly over millennia, been assaulted. She has been injured. Her Being, expressed as the Life She so gives to all onboard, has been darkly violated. By 2050CE, Her autonomic reaction has well begun, & is guessed to keep increasing for 500-to-1500 years, if-not for many thousand years. Seas have risen, making coastal cities warped, maladaptations of illogically self-imposed lifestyles. People, prhaps 20%, remain. Rodent survivors. Deafening thunder- ceaseless - & lightning, yet no rain- have buried most sea-cities in fog & learing gloom in the decades since flooding. Why? Mutant, hyper-nihilist, hopelessly tenacious corporate & feral microcults explode into existence daily, most doomed to be smashed by other, insane, anarchist, self-righteous cults or by Righteous Warrior Clans, in hours. CLAN MISH: KILL CULT!!! To Realist Rodents, the future of love is war. So, love war! But who to fight? City - so the fog-of-war. The mutant, pre-apocalypse, post-capitalist citiphile psychosis lives for enemies to conquer, rape & exterminate. When a dearth, rape & slay each other. Self destruct. Constant influx of zombies from Out. Raped into cults, prayed-upon, stomped. Qualify to serve or be eaten. Many past novels depict Future City. Nature taking its Subtle & Awesome, creeping & rage-some Revenge for mutant humans blithe desecration of Her river-mouths, deltas, flood-plains & Life-nourishing swamps. Dissenfranchized & aggressive Dissident Survivalists, thrive on the chaos & exact justice on ENEMY! in exhaltation. Always, some, bruised, damaged, decimated, nevertheless...,
Recall & Ressurrect Honour. No Honour is strong though, the unwritten human law being dishonour is the common default when under pressure. Life in 2050 is all about pressure. Not subtle pressure. Not diplomatic pressure. Your-kids-throat- cut-type pressure on you saying NO. Nuclear bomb-type pressure on being colonialist trippers. Love war. WAR IS FOOD! FOOD IS WAR! Suburbs? Post-Apoc ungovernable zones, whose Directors are in a constant futility-infused parody of negotiations with hemisphere warlords to avoid being polished off Earths face by a sweep of contained, timed, nuclear missiles. The clans of the Nature Lords regard suburbs as toxic, & thus rich-pickings for slaves, meat, rape & war. No food? Eat a neighbour. By 2100CE, the Renegade global Lords of the army - Riders of the Hostile Gods - who rotate victory with each rise & fall in power, ideate the desertification of suburbs completely. Over 10 active years, its guessed near to a billion people, zombie-slaves to hi-ups, mutants & mongrels to the Gods of Just, have rotted where they were, at the bar, in hovel, fixing a bike, slaves at mill, raping, eating. Why? Impractical. Illogical. Unsustainable. Untenable. Must go. So they go. No news is good news, bar for the lords of junk media, the sons of Lachie & wee Jimmy Murdoch. So another 20 suburbs are nuked here or there, & only the locals hit by fallout know & suffer. Billions, know & suffer the stinking reality, & wait to die as moss in a bushfire. To complain, is to murder the kids, jump the wall & go to war against everything you assumed good. The Honourable Radicals, all through States & regions of Earth, up to T.M.C., Top Military Command, on all continents, identify the enviro-damage cause, the E.D.C, & arrived results, & the immanent future for Earth. No Food. Intelligent interpretation by those Radicals arreigned that no emotion is the most merciful, so to minimise & reverse the selfmade future of Species Implosion, heavy culling was imperative.
On the coke-couch, or...., whacked-off-ya-sconn on cocaine, with safe mates, to the Culcha Warriors within TMC & the Gods Counsel, their world of counta-counta-wars was folly, pathos, toxic theatre, an upside-down tragi-comedic mind-warp. Hell. Where to live well is to constantly dare death. And death is for quaffing. Your own & any who laugh too long. Food. "To Be Without Is Ennobling", quaff the sardonic State billboards. "...without the state...", graffiti of feaces undermines. "...without THE CHURCH! ..." below that, fingerpainted from blood-weeping blisters. Good they can write?! The Warriors, Taught those accepted in their clans, of Honour & Mission. To love war. To "relish no thing" so-as to slay the slayer - Death. And to relish no thing BUT to slay the slayer - Death. Or, materialism. The chimeric shadow between God. And God. A branch of Warriors melted the shadow, & congured, among other planned revolutions, the Hippies? A powerful spread globally. Progressive & 200 years in the making, set roots in spots all over Eartha. Appeared in Ernest, 5 generations ago, &, as-if from the movie "The Day After Tommorrow", after Wall Street & the US east coast copped a bomb generated tsunami, quick became cannibals. July 4th, 2026CE. A 40 metre surge from sunny Bermuda. Happy 250th Independence Day! Love is war. Put mortars in your flowerbeds. Peace, is the biggest arsenal. So state most Hippys' great-grandkids. Practical Hippy genera now eat meat. YOURS! if you get too stoned. Death is exhaltation. Unless you secure food? Still grows. Wind seasons allowing. Clouds of god-knows, fuck crops everywhere. Anytime. Water is acid. Best to wash-down with blood. Blood: the wine of war. Food. To die for. Death comes early to most. Average kark is around 35. No-one celebrates birthdays anymore. Lords live longer, & learn regeneration, having called the Fire of Truth through Deaths illusion. Love is War. War is Mission. Mission is God. God is Power!
Want of Power is death. Kill God. Food. Food is air. Water. Fire. Earth. Earth. The dying Goddess. Slayed by Her child, Humanity. Estranged from Her God, Principle, she thrashes the lame, the tame, & fame. We Starve, She Pigs-Out? Motto of a deep-green Geno (-cide) cult.

Hello Humants,
from 2108CE.,
thru Time-Gate Minus 100 -
TO: 2008CE.
2nd Regenera,
Outlaw Eartha Warlord.
Omaxa bin Eartha
C.M.O. Global.