The above is an unfinished linework from an unknown author. It is said he was a famous scribe’s young apprentice, who was cursed by reading upon one of the forbidden books his master had locked up. It is said he was found dead with the pencil still in his hand, in writing position and without any signs of decay, even after a day had passed. They say his soul got cut off with such expertise, the body didn’t realize it was time to die. We have digitally enhanced what we assume is blood, to give you a better idea of the overall shape. Or perhaps because I’ve taken way too much time on this already and I’m likely to never finish it and I need to move on.
The following is an analysis of the image. The drawing is a (dead) artist’s rendition of a page from “The book of Abraham the Jew.” In Spanish:
“…un rey con una gran espada, quien mandó a matar en su presencia, por algunos soldados, una multitud de pequeños infantes, cuyas madres lloraban a los pies de los ímpios soldados. La sangre de aquellos infantes era luego dirigida por surcos, tallados en roca, y depositada en grandes vasijas, en las cuales el sol y la luna bajaban a bañarse.”
So, basically, soldiers are killing babies, then the sun and the moon bathe in the blood of the slain.
Starting from the top.
Some king or ruler of sorts is giving some soldiers orders. This is basic chain of command stuff. As a soldier, you’re not supposed to question orders, even if it means slaying the babies. Because your job is to take orders. Now let’s talk a bit about what jobs entail, to stop the potential hate these soldiers could catch.
The essence of working is trading. In the worst case scenario, you’re expending energy without getting anything in return, short of keeping your life. In the best one, you can live comfortably without doing anything at all.
Voluntary work serves the ego, so no getting out of this one.
Now, for work ethics. We are finite beings, and are limited by our bodies and its triune constitution: heart, mind and gut.
A balance of these three, or rather, a harmonic cycle between these parts is what we understand as a normal human being. “Perfect,” your author could even venture.
By trading our labor, we offer what we are in exchange for validation, AKA you become valuable, AKA you are able to afford living, AKA you prove that you can continue to live in this realm, AKA you’ve dominated a big chunk of this dimension. Living doesn’t get better than this; dying sucks.
A proper worker is therefore not only aware of his own invested interest, but also that he’s only as good as his production.
“Producing” and “production” are used here in a number of ways, but what it comes down to, abstractly, is entropy. When you contribute to order, you are producing. So, entropy. Out of chaos, order.
Let us return to the picture. The soldiers are executing babies. “Alright,” someone may say, “So, they’re monsters.” It is to avoid this logic that we went over that job thing.
If you’ve ever, I dunno, had a job, you probably know following orders is critical to good, proper functioning. At the very least, discipline itself can help develop other, more interesting skills. It’s like a gateway drug of good.
A soldier that doesn’t follow orders is by definition a bad soldier. Your job is not to love your country, or whatever else you can think about; your job is to follow orders.
“At least my job doesn’t involve killing!” Not directly, sure, but being alive means killing, one way or another. It means killing because being alive means you need safety, and someone has to provide it. Providing for your safety means at some step of the way, someone’s gonna get hurt. Whether it’s to defend your territory, your property, your culture or your family, violence is a given.
Next time you wanna point a finger, turn it around and see if it fits. Most of the times you’ll find it doesn’t, unless you’re into prostate stimulation, which actually sounds quite interesting. This guy I read, said he “edged” for three days before going hard on his prostate until climaxing.
“Ok, so the king is wicked then.”
Maybe, but that would be implying that you aren’t. I don’t believe you.
For argument’s, let’s assume it’s true. He is a wicked ruler, murderer of children and likely woman rapist. Maybe someone ought to murder his children, or just lock him up eternally.
Guess what? He can’t have kids and he’s got the jail guys bought, so if push comes to shove, they can just suicide him.
Realistically? He’s a schizoid or a psychopath, and is way above you in terms of power, so your opinion doesn’t really matter anyway. The solution is to stop wasting time judging others, and focus on the consequences. You’re in luck, that is exactly what follows.
I’m not gonna elaborate much on the decapitation part. Usually, for example, death is shown severing the feet of people. It follows to think that there may be more to this mass decapitation than just “death,” as that is not its usual MO. Here’s a hint: Which important organ is housed in the head? Is it possible that the babies are not “babies” per se? Which contexts allow for someone to be referred to as a “baby”? Suppose that person were to lose their mind, or consider the possibility of them never even having one at all. Have you ever met a “brainless” person?
We will not dig too deep on the weeping mothers, as I am still unclear on how they’re actually represented.
The blood is let out. We harvest the blood of newborns. Perfect. And it’s all leading where? Into the sun and moon’s personal jacuzzi.
I’ll say it out loud. Sun and moon? Earth. Existence, terrestrial living, day and night and every creature that ceaselessly transits the soil. Our sun, the light, and the moon, our life, is governed by the sacrifices of others. The life-force of innocence is what keeps the cogs moving. The hard decisions must be made by man, and hate must freely flow to be converted into bone fuel. This has been me, and giving these pseudo-moral bullshit lessons is really tiring.