Down on the funny farm: Thoughts on the fourth agricultural revolution by Manorial Meerkat

Yellow Cow, 1911, Franz Marc

In 2013, Mark Post, of Maastricht University, finished the first cultured-meat hamburger. It took $300,000 and 2 years to make, but it worked. An article by Forbes, posted on March 8 2022, stated the current cost of a similar hamburger was now $9.80. As the technology matures, that price is expected to go down.

Meat isn’t the only foodstuff getting down with the bioreactor revolution. According to an article on, posted March 22 2022, a company by the name of 108Labs is producing cultured dairy and dairy products, as well as cultured human breast milk made for mothers who can’t produce their own.

As of 2021, a Finnish company has managed to produce coffee from a bioreactor.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I think it’s time we as a civilization discuss the future of our most important industry, food production, and what we want that future to look like.

I could go all out on the technical and complex explanation of what cultured meat is and how it’s made, but I don’t want to, and it’s not relevant to the discussion. Suffice to say, you could take a tissue sample from a cow, and use those cells to produce a massive amount of meat. One cow or bull slaughtered and turned into tissue samples for meat culturing, produces an amount of meat equal to 440,000 cows or bulls slaughtered and processed normally; a truly mammoth increase in efficiency and output. Dairy made in a lab requires 60% less energy, and creates up to 97% fewer greenhouse emissions.

This will dramatically decrease the cost of meat, dairy, and whatever other foodstuffs we manage to synthesize.

Considering the amount of land the US uses for growing livestock feed, this could open up land for growing food for people, or even for rewilding and creating sprawling parklands.

Of course, most of the livestock will be slaughtered. There is no current economic format which would allow for us to just take the 70 billion animals we slaughter annually, and put them on those weird, hippie-dippie livestock sanctuaries you sometimes hear about in vegan circles. That’s sad, but think of it this way; in getting rid of the factory farm, we prevent the miserable lives of billions of animals who would exist in feedlots around the world. By culling 99.99% of global livestock, we prevent the suffering of their progeny. The life of livestock, especially modern livestock, isn’t pretty, and we should be glad that we prevent the suffering of who knows how many more conscious beings would have to live such a life.

Of course, there will be skeptics. Naturists and conspiracy nuts, who take issue with lab grown foodstuffs and/or those making it,  and who will most certainly be paying extra for the privilege of eating “real” meat, dairy, coffee, and whatever else we’ve synthesized by that point.

Bioreactor Blues

As of 2019, there are 276,724 ranchers in the United States. Ideally, before this technology takes off in the economy, we should plan out what becomes of them and their property.

I have an interesting plan. See, I am partial to an obscure, untested economic doctrine called Distributism. To oversimplify, and reduce to only the most relevant information: I believe that large conglomerates should be broken down into much smaller cooperatives, and worker co-op federations, whenever economics of scale allows.

Step 1. Re-educate and retool the rancher, so that they become a member of a local/regional cultured meat factory. It may seem a stretch to take a rancher, and turn them into a biotech worker. However, I ask this: how did Henry Ford take uneducated laborers, and have them make cars, which were rather high-tech for the time?

He divided the process into thousands of small tasks, had each worker do one or a few of those tasks, and got some college educated technicians and bean-counters to orchestrate the rest of the factory. In other words, give the farmer some free classes at a community college, and put them to work doing a few tasks in a complex assembly line. Of course, it couldn’t just be the former ranchers, other workers would be needed, and we could do the same process of education and assignment with them.

Step 2. Have the national government establish meat factory cooperatives in former ranching regions, to ensure a baseline of production and employment, while ensuring that the field isn’t dominated by the multinational conglomerates. Set up a govt service where these cooperatives can have experts in the process remotely guide and manage the facilities, and arrange for repairs whenever possible. It would also be necessary to educate thousands of experts and repairmen for this service. This would have the added benefit of providing even more jobs than previously thought.

Also, set aside government money to loan out to small-time investors, who would like to establish private meat factories, and for the love of Bastet and Hathor, don’t regulate the industry until it becomes impossible for new businesses to be established; that only helps the corporate giants.

I know that the idea of a locally owned, small-town, lab grown meat factory, sounds like something out of a Heinlnein novel; with that strange mixture of advanced technologies and old fashioned assumptions about society. However, I think it’s possible, and I think it’s for the better. It would show that high technology and industrial economics  don’t have to be cold and heartless things, and would also make it more likely that the profits of these local meat cooperatives would go to employees, maintenance, and improvements, not to fifth-yachts and hedge funds.

What about their land?

A lot of land used for ranching, is land that was useless for farming. Prairies, arid shrublands, and even deserts. I simply propose that the old structures be demolished, and the land be returned to nature, in the form of protected wildlands.

Similar arrangements will have to be made for coffee farmers, but since much of that business happens in the developing world, my outlook for those farmers and their families is grim. We shall pray for them, when the time comes.

The Dissident Right and Debates by Wald

The Lonely Tower, 1879, Samuel Palmer

What we see in dissident circles, and online movements in general, is not debate or serious discussion. It is rather a descendent of immature polemics, a type of propaganda of the isolated and forgotten. Retweet the news and you are suddenly a political organisation of one, a monarch of social media. What we have after the collapse of the old media is an opinion or reaction plutocracy.

It is also completely wrong to say that debate has served no purpose in revolutionary circles. The exact opposite is true, debate was central to the liberal revolutions, the nationalist movement, the anarchists and communists, the conservatives and fascists. Every revolutionary movement was formed of debate and would have said little of relevance without it. Worse, the debates have almost always served the majority, a greater mass which destroyed their opponents mainly through technical means and pure quantity. Of course, the victors were almost always the party in the wrong.

More importantly, outside of revolutionary circles all the great thinkers were constantly engaged in discussion. In the 18th century, for example, they would rewrite letters three or four times before sending them. This was essential to the development of ideas, even Goethe pointed out the importance of the most anonymous members of literature circles. To suggest a revolutionary movement without discussion is the same as suggesting a war strategy without the coordination of officers.

It should be acknowledged that technical means, the medium of debate, has taken over discussion itself. We see this in various measures of deplatforming, muddying the waters, doxxing, permanent hangouts, banning, and branding by way of atomisation. A sort of sophistry of the machines has taken over. Because of this there should be a total abandonment of dependence on technicians. Considering they are the ones who have caused most of our problems and have lowered all discussion to a type of war of opinion, they need to be seen for what they are, something lower than the classes. Whoever can post the most and has the time to post the most wins. Otherwise there is an extreme commonality of character which allows the perfect last man to rise to the top. Anyone who disagrees with this denies the social media algorithms which distribute their status credit. We have seen the results of this on the Left and Right, and none of the effects are positive.

Of course, we are forced into this levelled type of discussion, but anyone who advocates for new platforms should be thinking of ways of struggling against levelling and nihilism. To elevate discussion would be more useful than anything else today. This is undeniable when one looks at the total impoverishment around us.

The reality is that there are too many people who are great at forming and distributing terrible opinions. It is marketability and a character suited to being marketed to that drives most opinions. Behind the surface-level engagement of views and likes it’s easy to look at comments to see the real quality of engagement. Most often the comment sections are dominated by vulgar humour, outright nihilism, and variations of upvotes.

A serious discussion of mythology, the philosophy of history, second religiousness, or nihilism today would only draw a few dozen people willing to seriously engage. And then only if you already have the base, which requires a bit of luck, to find these people scattered around the world.

But the billionth post complaining about trannies will get 10,000 views. And the trillionth post crying about a lack of action will get 1,000 likes.

In short, no one is really against debate, only a specific type of debate. But if we want to move away from materialistic thinking we have to move away from the extreme subjectivity that dominates even in right-wing circles where authoritarian and militaristic virtues are supposed to dominate.

What are illiberal dialectics? And what type of discussion will reinforce them? These are the questions that should be asked. To stand for authoritarian values once meant elitism, not of feeling but actual result and contest. The creation of a caste of intellectuals and artists who serve the state is the goal. Developing a brand and isolating yourself from criticism is the opposite of this. It is a mirror of the political parties and social media moderators who want to be free from all criticism.

It is the purest type of liberalism, technical liberalism without any of the predetermined qualities. Who will tell their followers to stop reading? That general education and its consequences has been a disaster for the human race?
Perhaps it doesn’t matter. Not even Nietzsche’s polemics can have an effect today. So we need to look for other solutions.


Read more of Wald’s writings at his substack here: Actaeon Journal | Der Schattige Wald | Substack

Ideology vs Worldview by Gio

The Miracle of Light While Flying, 1931, Gerardo Dottori

Futurism is a worldview, not an ideology. What is the difference? A worldview is a philosophy of life or a conception of the world. An ideology is a set of ideas or ideals which form the basis for a political or economic model. The worldview precedes the ideological. The worldview is timeless and is not subject to change. To those who adhere to a worldview, it represents absolute truth. It is multi-faceted and informed by various factors such as environment, lived experience, religious belief, aesthetics, metaphysics etc. Ideology, however, is how worldviews manifest themselves and impose themselves on material reality. Ideologies are not timeless. They are a product of the time and place in which they were conceived. They have an expiration date, and should be discarded when their relevance is lost or they have been proven to be flawed or un-useful through practice. The ideology is merely the vehicle for the worldview to manifest itself and is not important in and of itself.

Futurism as a worldview could manifest itself through many ideologies. A futurist could be a liberal, a fascist, a communist, an anarchist or really any other ideology that promotes progress over tradition. A futurist could express himself through art, politics or lifestyle, the important thing is that he projects his futurist worldview onto material reality, since thought is nothing without action.

As futurists we can and should admire figures like Marinetti or Mayakovsky who embodied our worldview but we are not at all obligated to follow in their footsteps. The futurist, after all, is always marching forward. He does not cling to the past or engage in hero worship.

Marinetti aligned himself with Mussolini’s Fascist movement. This made sense for him to do at the time. Mussolini was capable of taking power, and could have potentially been useful for actualizing the futurist worldview in Italy at the time. In practice, this did not happen exactly, but Mussolini’s regime was certainly friendlier to the Futurist movement than Hitler or Stalin were, and Marinetti was able to promote his ideas more effectively as a fascist than he would have been able to do if he had aligned himself with some other ideological movement in Italy at that time.

But should 21st century futurists align themselves with 21st century fascists? I would have to say, absolutely not. Aside from the fact that Fascism is a dead and irrelevant ideology now, people who call themselves Fascists definitely lean more conservative and trad. Not only are they not interested in futurist idea’s, they are fiercely opposed to them. This makes them opponents who are diametrically opposed to the goals of the futurist. They are enemies, not potential allies. Trying to find common ground with them is a waste of time and effort that would be better put towards other more fruitful endeavours. I would argue that Communism is also irrelevant today. Dugin has the right idea with establishing a fourth political theory, in my opinion, but he is a traditionalist so his actual ideology is not relevant to us. Still, I agree with the idea of establishing a new 21st century ideology that is syncretic and is useful for 21st century realities. Larping as blackshirts from a movement that failed and died 80 years ago, is childish and people who do this should really grow the fuck up. Personally I see more potential for alliances with Post-Left Anarchists, KomFuts or Accelerationists than with anyone on the right in 2022, but I’m open minded and will hear out pretty much anyone who is also open minded and respectful.

I will close with a quote from Mark Fisher’s Capitalist Realism, as I think it is relevant to this mini-essay. Though he is talking about the left, I would argue it is just as relevant to people on the right who are living in the past.

“”We are now in a political landscape littered with what Alex Williams called ‘ideological rubble’ – it is year zero again, and a space has been cleared for a new anti-capitalism to emerge which is not necessarily tied to the old language or traditions. One of the left’s vices is its endless rehearsal of historical debates, its tendency to keep going over Kronsdadt or the New Economic Policy rather than planning or organizing for a future that it really believes in. The failure of previous forms of anti-capitalist political organization should not be a cause of despair, but what needs to be left behind is a certain romantic attachment to the politics of failure, to the comfortable position of a defeated marginality.” Mark Fisher, Capitalist Realism

Turbo Killer part 1 by John Smith

In the hall of the council of the Responsible Goodies, dominators of the Lyla System, feathers were ruffed with anticipation in front of the telescreen: the vultures dressed in suits were observing the television studio through the screen.

In that studio, a man dressed in a baroque vest was talking into a microphone cabled both to television and radio.

He was the television chamberlain McDruff, war veteran turned most famous journalist and anchorman of the worlds of the Lyla System.

-Welcome to a new evening with your favourite commentator, chamberlain McDruff.

I am today happy as usual, happy to bring you the most recent news in the name of our overlords, the Responsible Goodies, that upholds the well being of our society.

We keep registering rising economic growth percentages every week, and now that terrorist menaces have subsided, consumerist weekends are again allowed for our free time.

It is a great triumph, and we can finally say that the days of the Old Night are far away from us.

Decades ago, the intergalactic war destroyed interstellar civilization and isolated many places in the cosmos.

The Lyla system remained one of the isolated isles, but we are now riding the progress curve again, regaining hope for the future and comfort to previous levels.

We can be happy to be supervised, as a multicultural community, by the committee board of the Goodies.

The vultures nodded in their dark hall, watching their precious puppet spokesperson with their greedy eyes.

After the transmission ended, the vulture overseers shook their glasses of fine sprinkly wine.

-Gentlemen, we have reasons to be jolly.- shrieked one of them after calling for attention by tickling his wine glass with a fang 
– When we began our social work years ago, trying to regenerate this stellar system that was cut off from the falling intergalactic civilization, we were full of worries and  uncertainties.

Nowadays, those worries have disappeared from our roads like garbage removed by a serf.

We can compliment ourselves on the way we reorganized this restricted region of the cosmos.

The incoherent buzz that stifles from the street, generated by a few discontent with a perverted mind, won’t ruin our satisfaction and happiness…

In the streets outside the high skyscraper, solitary figures of passersby were looking at the tower and at the telescreens above the roads, many of them with a blanket of melancholia over their faces, but soon they moved to the factories, to the shops, or the places where they could have exercised the right to consume or the duty to work.

A lone salaryman sighed, staring at the sky, blinking with his third eye.

The memory of a bizarre nightmare he had the night before distracted him from his daily journey to the workplace.

He dreamed of a sinister motorcycle, driving through the streets of the capital city of the main planet of the Lyla System.
 Far away, near the sewers of the city, various hoboes were grasping what they could from the garbage thrown away from the dark city above, but they scuttled uncertainly, always looking for a looming danger.

One of them, a slugperson in a brown, dirty jacket, managed to reach for a half full jar of honey; as he started to open the recipient, he heard a heavy noise behind him and saw with his eyes other bums fleeing.

Gulping, he turned and stared at the size of a massive, circular robotic body similar to a tin can that was standing above him.

A mechanical claw grabbed him and lifted him above: at that new height, he could spot the occupant of the robot, an old lady in a green dress with a white hat, the uniform of the Salvation Army old ladies corp.

-It is time for your misery to end!- she yelled. – Poor man, you will be relocated to a workhouse before the end of the day!-

-No, please no! I don’t want to slave away to produce consumer goods…- the poor slugman yelled, but suddenly, a sinister roar interrupted the conversation.

The old lady turned her attention to the vastness of the canal beside them, and she could see only for a moment the dizzying metallic monster going in her direction, impaling and destroying her robotic vehicle.

The hobo was free and he rolled away from the now useless claw which fell on the ground, seeing clearly behind the wreckage of the machine a dazzling motorcycle which was moving towards the inner city, to disappear quickly on the horizon.

Meanwhile, at a police station at the border of the commercial streets, agents were alerted about an incredibly quick object moving at incredible speed towards the main roads of the city.

They shrugged, but suddenly they saw a dark serpent flashing in the street outside their place, and they jumped over their jetbikes quickly after it.

The tenebrous bike strolled towards the roads of the city, evading the other vehicles and shifting the clothes of the astonished people on the walk sides, while the cops on the bike moved very goofily behind it.

At terrible speed, the dark form crossed a large road between two warehouses, and the chasers moved behind it, stopping once inside the dark alley.

The searchlights of their vehicles were not focused enough to penetrate the shadows, and they used their torches to look around, but they could not spot anything in the shadows of the alley, behind the metal boxes and the garbage; the mysterious intruder seemed to have disappeared.

-What was that?- asked one of the policemen.
-Was it the…- murmured the other.
-No, it is just a voice made up by political dissidents and communists.
There is nothing like a mysterious monster on a motorbike.-
-Checked the weather tonight?- a deep but somewhat warm female voice made their hearts almost stop.

They looked around with their torches, almost panicking, but they could not find anything; they didn’t even pull their hands at their gun, too scared they were.

-It’s gonna rain heavy metal tonight!- the loud voice growled again and one of the policeman stared for one second above.

He could see, even in the penumbra, what was haunting them: over a military motorbike with a dark body and no recognizable signs, there was the pilot, a tall and robust figure cloaked in a long black military coat, a red scarf winding around his neck, the face covered by a metallic gas mask.

The policeman screamed, but the high growl of that motorbike surpassed his scream easily: the pilot jumped down, rolling over both of them and their puny motorbikes with his own vehicle, crashing them with ease.

Then, with a mighty roar of the engines, he sprinted away.

"To all men, an unidentified motorcycle is crossing at illegal speed towards the main avenue. Be prepared and apply maximum caution."

-What the hell does that mean?-

The black motorcycle entered a great superstreet, dazzling like a bolt of darkness; most of the car users didn’t even distinguish it but it moved with great confidence through the traffic.

Two police cars entered the great junction to move after the pirate vehicle, but they realized they could not slide through the traffic as easily.

Suddenly, the shadowy vehicle seemed to get slower and they surpassed riskily a few cars to move closer to them, only to actually lose track of the chase inside the traffic.

-It disappeared!-
-It’s not possible, it has to be somewhere!-

The motorbike was sliding over the cement border of the road, the black wheels in perfect equilibrium over the concrete fence; it turned and surpassed a building site, entering a road closed to the public; one of the police motorcars saw it and tried to turn inside the same way, almost smashing itself against a truck.

-The unidentified motorcycle is exiting the main junction from the unfinished 23rd road.

-Send cars to the exit and we could be able to contain it!

The black motorcycle escaped its chasers , traveling very fast while ignoring the various obstacles that forced the chasing police car to stop.

At the end of that road, just when the unfinished run opened over the center of the city, the police had created a barrier here with the cars and wooden public barriers.

A police officer with a megaphone was waiting behind the barrier, staring at the forbidden road above.

Then, he spotted something moving in the darkness.

-Cease and desist immediately! You are under arrest!- he yelled through the megaphone, but the motorbike, without any kind of light on, still zapped at maximum velocity towards the barricade.

-Damn…- he growled at the other policemen – Shot, shot!-

The policemen opened fire on the coming dark bolt, but it didn’t stutter, it didn’t slow down; he crashed against one of the car, pushing it aside and destroying its frame, pieces of glass and metal everywhere.

Then the dark bike vanished into the roads behind the barricade.

The police chieftain moved closer, uncredulous, but after the sonorous crash of the impact, he heard a more feeble sound, something rolling on the ground.

He blinked and gazed on the concrete ground, puzzled: he firmly saw a bunch of grenade rolling on the floor, without the security pin on.

-Move away, move away!-

In a great flare, more police cars were launched into the air alongside the agents in a great flare.

The dark bike didn’t stop for a second, nor did it turn for a bit to see the devastation because it was already far away.

(end of part one)

Life for Sale by Yukio Mishima (Review) by Ezra S.

It occurred to me that Yukio Mishima’s novel, Life for Sale, can be described as faustian in the truest sense of the word. This review will contain spoilers for the novel. If you haven’t already read it, I very much recommend it!

After a failed attempt at suicide, Hanio quits his job and feels as if he can freely seek death, and so he puts his life up for sale in a Tokyo newspaper. Several bizarre clients and one tragic love story later, Hanio realizes that he has made quite the amount of money. Much more, in fact, than he ever would have at this previous job. He suspends his offer to sell his life and moves out of his apartment, where he meets a strange girl, seemingly high on LSD. He begins a relationship with her, in spite of her paranoid belief that she has congenital syphilis, something which is likely unfounded. When she attempts to kill Hanio and herself one night, he stops and scolds her, to which she questions if he is afraid of dying. He realizes that his new freedom has left him unwilling to die, and yet, when he imagines a ‘normal’ life with this girl, one in which he has a child with her and gets a normal job once more, the desire to die appears once more. Eventually, he flees her possessive grasp and leaves Tokyo, attempting to evade a perceived threat that is tailing him. This fear turns out to be based in reality when he is captured. This whole situation is too strange and too long to explain, so please read the novel. He manages to escape his captivity, and flees to a police station, but he is not believed by the detective questioning. In the end, Hanio is left with an unclear fate, but what is clear is that he will now live in fear for the life that he was previously selling.

Faust sold his soul after a failed attempt at suicide, just as Hanio did. There are other comparisons that can be made between the two stories, such as the parallel and mirroring of Gretchen in Kaoru’s mother, but that is a different story. Faust eventually realizes his sin, just as Hanio realizes that he desires to live, but it is too late. What Faust had done had damned him to Hell, and what Hanio had done had damned him to a life of paranoia and fear. Hanio realized late that he wanted to live; the damage had been done. And in that sense, Life for Sale is truly faustian. Despite the absurd and comical nature of the novel, Mishima warns us against giving our lives away, just as the tale of Faust does.

Meteor by Shocco of Roanoke

new planet by konstantin yuon
To be born a meteor,
destined to self-destruct.
To crash upon some ocean,
bosomed in her steely waves.

For that ocean to be a desert,
her dunes to conceal me ever.
No one will know of this meteor
and I’m just fine with that.

Just let my flame burn —
let it scorch — let it sear.
Let my fire scald lovers
who boldly came so near.

Don’t let the fire die
a sad, crackling ember.
Let me supernova, a star —
let me engulf death itself.

Spectacles of Virtue by Avanti Rossa

The Barbarians, 1937, Max Ernst
Spectacles of virtue
 you must be offended by the downtrodden and despair you have created 
however fear not for here you are 
with your crown of thorns spun of gold and silver
Whatever could be done without the glory of your presence?
“Get out and vote” you say
For Mammon of Red, White and Blue
“The Youth are getting involved” you boast
But you are the reason they get involved?

Oh Spectacles of Virtue
How great you must be to brag about your “union”
How brave of you to gravel at the feet of those you call “leeches”
Cowardice is not your forte as posting about your chivalry is
A hawk of blue is your banner and your moralism is your Armor 
What a brilliant Knight of Justice you are
When you prop up portraits of the masses while you turn your back on them

Sadly I am not a Spectacle of Virtue
I am a Spectre of Destruction
A Fascist of the Hammer and Sickle variety
My slogan is Avanti Barbari 
Yours is Sostieni la moralita
My god is Marxism and Futurism
Yours is a Mirror and a Rose

You are a dog that follows and feigns its bite
But we are Wolves, we don't need virtue or spectacles
All we need is ourselves

Love is Evil by Ezra S.

love is evil
it wipes the world clean
of it's countless people
and all that can be seen
is you, and me
that is all i can see.

to you i don't exist
and yet you're everything
and all i want is a kiss
something to make me sing
but that's all fantasy
and this is a reality

i can't live without you
'yours' is all i want to be
like flowers, my feelings grew 
by the coast of my mind, the sea
and other than you
nothing really matters
nothing really matters to me. 

Desire for Violence by Avanti Rossa

My desire for violence comes from my hatred of the accomplices, the lazy and the crazy
standing on their ivory mounds of hammer and sickle gilded
Lecture on the achievements of ashes and failure 
let them worship in peace and quiet 
while I roar at the top of my lungs as Marxism rises anew from the promises of the future
From the darkness of the past comes the dawn of the future
From this I draw my inspiration and my devotion
And so stands the traditionalist in my way
Garbed in their shitheel attire
Let them live in their delusions and watch as the ax falls on them
Because they were too busy looking at the past to see what was above
I dont stand for the lost
I dont stand for those without principle
I stand for myself and my class
I stand on the neck of the traitor and the complicit
Who is it who stands in the way of violence?
Who is it to stand against the tide of the wave of revolution?
Who is it to stand against such beauty?
Who is it to be such a fool?
The gilded Socialists
The foolish Traditionalist
The blind Patriots 
They all kneel to the same God
I and the Brave stand on the banks of the River Styx
Awakening the dead with the drums of war
Class war and the drums of Future Humanity
My desire for violence comes from my desire for Freedom and Communism

À carnaval by Shocco of Roanoke

Flip by Jason Limon
One day
the music of words
will have their final note.

neath the world
that keeps spinning.

So will I
be gone forever.

you will join me,
some sunny day.

How beautiful
this way is and has been!

A ride,
fast and short,
as it always is.

no matter how
many years you might

it is really
never quite enough.

Life is mad,
insane and pretty,
à carnaval.

Give me
A spring of youth

Of such
olympian speed
I warm the dark

of my young
and beautiful death!