Another excellent dead on article. I've believed for a long time that humans are a genetically failed experiment of some other parasitic race. Man's inhumanity to man never ceases to flabbergast me, but this bit of news is high on the list for me: Gas prices jump 70% in days as Arctic blast looms and power firms cash in as families fear $5k heating bills - https://www.dailymail.co.uk/yourmoney/article-15485645/gas-prices-arctic-freeze-heating-bills.html
Appreciate the resonance. I don’t think humans are a failed experiment so much as a hijacked one. The cruelty you’re pointing at isn’t human nature—it’s what happens when parasitic systems learn how to sit on top of human fear and skim energy, money, and consent.
The gas-price spike is a perfect example. No shortage. No mystery. Just fear leveraged into extraction. Same playbook every time: weather → panic → “market forces” → families bled dry.
Predators don’t always have claws. Sometimes they wear spreadsheets and issue press releases. The deadliest ones learned how to make exploitation look normal.
It’s refreshing to read an article that echoes something I’ve always believed: Animals aren’t the ones wrecking the planet, or the simulation, or whatever the heck we’re part of. Humans, and whatever entities have been running “the show” for thousands of years, seem to have the trademark on that.
I’ve often thought:
"You never see the deer and the rabbit arguing. Or the chipmunk getting into a scuffle with a bird that’s just trying to find worms in the ground."
To be fair, a few months ago I did watch two rabbits go head-to-head, or maybe paw-to-paw, over corn mixed into the bird seed. They both wanted to stake their claim. And yes, I’ve seen a larger squirrel chase a smaller one away from the sunflower seeds. But the smaller one left for a few minutes, came back, and resumed eating. The larger one had its fill and scampered off. No grudges. No obsession. No ongoing campaign of dominance. Just “I want food” and then… moving on.
Since I was a child, I’ve loved nature and animals, domestic and wildlife. I still find myself in awe, especially when it comes to birds, hawks in particular. When I see one soaring overhead, I feel this visceral longing to flap my wings, take off on a moment’s notice, and fly out of here to wherever I want to go. Who knows? Maybe I was a bird in a previous or concurrent lifetime. Hmm.
Finally, when I moved from the East/Midwest to the East Valley of Arizona in late September 2007, the property manager at my apartment complex gave me a heads-up: when the buildings went up, scorpion nests were disturbed, so I might see one, even though they had a company spray the grounds. I can only imagine what chemicals were used.
I think I was about six months into my lease when it happened. I saw a scorpion on the living room wall, tucked up in the corner, and it completely freaked me out. Then it scurried toward the doorway of my main bedroom. Needless to say, it didn’t end well for the scorpion, and I still feel bad about that. I genuinely didn’t know what to do to get rid of it.
The next day, I took my car in for an oil change and told the owner, a native Phoenician, what happened. He laughed and said, “All you had to do was grab a broom, knock it off the wall, sweep it into a dustpan, and toss it outside.” :)
Beautifully observed. What you’re describing is the difference between natural competition and manufactured domination.
Animals contend, eat, rest, move on. No ideology. No hoarding beyond need. No obsession with control after the moment passes. Even conflict has an off-switch.
What wrecks the planet isn’t “human nature” so much as something riding human cognition—stories of scarcity, hierarchy, guilt, and endless accumulation. That’s the alien part, not the deer or the hawk.
I think your pull toward birds says something true. Hawks don’t beg permission. They read the field, catch the thermal, and go where coherence carries them. That longing to lift off isn’t escapism—it’s memory.
Nature still knows how to live clean. Humans forgot when we outsourced knowing to systems that feed on fear and permanence.
Truly the human race looks like an invasive species. There is very little commonality with the native species on earth. The motives are alien to the indigenous inhabitants, with a few exceptions. The operating system of humans doesn’t mesh with the system of earthly motives. So what is the purpose here?
You never disappoint! Excellent work
Appreciate that, Cameron.
The work isn’t about impressing — it’s about clarity.
Glad it landed.
— Lone Wolf
Another excellent dead on article. I've believed for a long time that humans are a genetically failed experiment of some other parasitic race. Man's inhumanity to man never ceases to flabbergast me, but this bit of news is high on the list for me: Gas prices jump 70% in days as Arctic blast looms and power firms cash in as families fear $5k heating bills - https://www.dailymail.co.uk/yourmoney/article-15485645/gas-prices-arctic-freeze-heating-bills.html
Appreciate the resonance. I don’t think humans are a failed experiment so much as a hijacked one. The cruelty you’re pointing at isn’t human nature—it’s what happens when parasitic systems learn how to sit on top of human fear and skim energy, money, and consent.
The gas-price spike is a perfect example. No shortage. No mystery. Just fear leveraged into extraction. Same playbook every time: weather → panic → “market forces” → families bled dry.
Predators don’t always have claws. Sometimes they wear spreadsheets and issue press releases. The deadliest ones learned how to make exploitation look normal.
— Lone Wolf
It’s refreshing to read an article that echoes something I’ve always believed: Animals aren’t the ones wrecking the planet, or the simulation, or whatever the heck we’re part of. Humans, and whatever entities have been running “the show” for thousands of years, seem to have the trademark on that.
I’ve often thought:
"You never see the deer and the rabbit arguing. Or the chipmunk getting into a scuffle with a bird that’s just trying to find worms in the ground."
To be fair, a few months ago I did watch two rabbits go head-to-head, or maybe paw-to-paw, over corn mixed into the bird seed. They both wanted to stake their claim. And yes, I’ve seen a larger squirrel chase a smaller one away from the sunflower seeds. But the smaller one left for a few minutes, came back, and resumed eating. The larger one had its fill and scampered off. No grudges. No obsession. No ongoing campaign of dominance. Just “I want food” and then… moving on.
Since I was a child, I’ve loved nature and animals, domestic and wildlife. I still find myself in awe, especially when it comes to birds, hawks in particular. When I see one soaring overhead, I feel this visceral longing to flap my wings, take off on a moment’s notice, and fly out of here to wherever I want to go. Who knows? Maybe I was a bird in a previous or concurrent lifetime. Hmm.
Finally, when I moved from the East/Midwest to the East Valley of Arizona in late September 2007, the property manager at my apartment complex gave me a heads-up: when the buildings went up, scorpion nests were disturbed, so I might see one, even though they had a company spray the grounds. I can only imagine what chemicals were used.
I think I was about six months into my lease when it happened. I saw a scorpion on the living room wall, tucked up in the corner, and it completely freaked me out. Then it scurried toward the doorway of my main bedroom. Needless to say, it didn’t end well for the scorpion, and I still feel bad about that. I genuinely didn’t know what to do to get rid of it.
The next day, I took my car in for an oil change and told the owner, a native Phoenician, what happened. He laughed and said, “All you had to do was grab a broom, knock it off the wall, sweep it into a dustpan, and toss it outside.” :)
Beautifully observed. What you’re describing is the difference between natural competition and manufactured domination.
Animals contend, eat, rest, move on. No ideology. No hoarding beyond need. No obsession with control after the moment passes. Even conflict has an off-switch.
What wrecks the planet isn’t “human nature” so much as something riding human cognition—stories of scarcity, hierarchy, guilt, and endless accumulation. That’s the alien part, not the deer or the hawk.
I think your pull toward birds says something true. Hawks don’t beg permission. They read the field, catch the thermal, and go where coherence carries them. That longing to lift off isn’t escapism—it’s memory.
Nature still knows how to live clean. Humans forgot when we outsourced knowing to systems that feed on fear and permanence.
— Lone Wolf
Daily does of coherence
Exactly. Coherence isn’t a concept, it’s a daily practice.
Small, steady doses keep the parasites starved and the signal clear.
Miss a day and the noise creeps back in.
Appreciate you naming it.
— Lone Wolf
Truly the human race looks like an invasive species. There is very little commonality with the native species on earth. The motives are alien to the indigenous inhabitants, with a few exceptions. The operating system of humans doesn’t mesh with the system of earthly motives. So what is the purpose here?
It only looks that way if you mistake the parasite for the host.
Humans aren’t the invasive species — the operating system that hijacked them is.
Strip out fear, domination, and extraction, and humans mesh cleanly with the living world.
The purpose isn’t conquest. It’s remembering, repairing, and choosing coherence over control.
A few never forgot — that’s the exception you’re noticing.
— Lone Wolf
Aarroool🐺
Aarroool back at you 🐺
Signal recognized.
— Lone Wolf