A million empty likes. A million ways to empower a Woke misfit. A million useless platitudes. A million ways to tell an unlovable person that you love them. A million-monad march to insanity. You didn’t come here to smash that like. You didn’t even come here of your own accord. You were drawn here. Drawn by something higher, something nobler, something raw and pure. Something real in an unreal world where reality has atrophied. You seek the cure. You seek Truth. You live in a world where every fool wears their lies as truths whose validity you are forced to swallow with an emotionless smile on your face. The Idiocracy has been birthed by means of Wokeism – the continuation of Christianity by other means. Everyone gets a medal for speaking their truth. Every self-serving lie is a lemma in the logic of the Woke. That is the world you now inhabit.

“You think Einstein walked around thinkin’ everyone was a bunch of dumb shits?”
“Yeah. Hadn’t thought of that.”
“Now you know why he built that bomb.”

– Rita and Joe. The smartest idiots in the Idiocracy.

Only it’s the dumb shits bombing the wise. Reality, as it ought to be, has been inverted. This is the Unreal City as an all-encompassing global megalopolis. Its highways are the Internet. Its mayor is the Influencer – Capitalism’s most vile servant. Its theaters are YouTube livestreams. Its social welfare is Patreon subscriptions. Its schools are ill-informed Discord servers. Its police are Gestapo Moderators. Its national defense is the FBI. Its religion is the worship of an androgynous eunuch from Mars.

You have found yourself standing in the middle of history’s most absurd battlefield. Aggressive weaklings wage war from behind unnatural shields leaving their natural enemies in a state of comedic dumbfoundedness. The Unreal City seems impervious to siege so long as its citizens refuse to acknowledge the enemy at its gates. The real is rational and the rational has no effect on the unreal.

All paths lead to nowhere. Only one leads to the truth. It sure as hell isn’t your truth. Are you on the right path? The way forward crumbles behind you with each step you take. There is no turning back.

Saccharine streams where safety longs to be gnashed and gutted plead a desperate sensation which nips at your earlobes in the perfect absence of sound. Echo drowns in the ripples of Narcissus’ reflection. He steals a serene glimpse through razor-thin eye slits as you behold the death of weakness.

A leopard has power and it uses that power to kill. It must kill to maintain its power.

The eunuch gives its power away. It must be killed to regain its power. What are those of us to do who stymie castration by a pitiful class who derive their power from pity?

This is a story told by love and hate. Both sides of this coin are polished smooth by the abrasive tension between false prophets and their destroyers.

As the title proclaims, we are here to take Hyperianism to the morgue. Corey Rebhahn and Susan Mitchell, the false prophets, are set to meet their metaphorical destruction at the hands of their destroyers, the Illuminist Army.

Morgue said his Book Zero was the book that should not be. This is exactly right. Fuck that plagiarizing pig and his entire gimpish enterprise. This book you are reading now is the book to end all books. The old ways and days are gone. Henceforth, the meritocrats rule the earth. Corey Rebhahn’s fall is the symbolic end of the Old World Order and its privileged establishment. One OWO patsy after the next falls by the wayside, and each body serves as a step on our ascent to divinity.

This book is an all-out assault on the cult of Hyperianism – the Woke, pacifist, grifting campaign of a pansy, a pussy, a coward. The son of a cop born of pig flesh. A con artist that shocks no one. A shock artist that cons himself into believing he is God.

This book is a synthesis in antithesis to the pseudomorphism birthed from a ghastly and incestuous affair between the Supreme Traitors to the cause of the working class: Corey Rebhahn and Susan Mitchell. These two scandalous swine warrant no detailed introduction. All the necessary information awaits you as you read through this epic collaboration between Illuminists and ex-Hyperians alike. It is our duty and honor to note this historical moment and to detail the events leading up to it. The historical moment being the ruination of Morgue’s dangerous Hyperian identity cult. Morgue – The Night Bringer, The Terror of Men, Morgen Night, Corey Rebhahn, the pathological narcissist and psychopath, the North Hollywood Grifter – and his Woke handler, Susan Mitchell, are guilty of the treasonous act of hijacking the answer to existence and defiling it for likes, and follows, and monetary gain. This book is the Illuminist Army’s retaliatory response.

We men and women represent the vanguard flying the Illuminist banner for a liberated humanity and a meritocratic future. An attack on our Sacred Cause is an attack on us all, and though the men involved surely have a bone to pick with Rebhahn, it’s the women of this movement who reserve the highest stake in righteous retribution. Corey Rebhahn the Eunuch Pig Man targets women specifically. He preys on them, exploits them, manipulates them, and even tries to hijack their gender as his own when it suits him. On the adamantine footing of Illuminist ideas, he has attempted to construct a fortress for exotic minorities, housed by a harem of fawning girls and effeminate boys. All of them broken. All of them lonely and anomic. All of them sacrificing their humanity to a narcissist who cannot even be considered human. Morgue, while shunning masculinity, has declared war on the divine feminine.

When Morgue gazed upon the Illuminist literature, he saw nothing more than mere padding to legitimize his own self-indulgent cause. What did he say when he gazed upon THE answer to existence? “How can I market this to gullible, submissive women so as to boost my narcissistic supply?” In the world of the YouTube Influencer, nothing is sacred.

When an AMAZON looks upon these mighty works, she says: “This is what supporting women really looks like. How many other communities would so strongly support dreadfully powerful voices coming from women? I can tell you it’s exactly zero. I’ve had this bite all my life and it’s never garnered a single praise until it met the attention of the great men and women of this movement. WOMEN… if you really want to overcome the destruction that the OWO has levied upon our gender, this movement is absolutely 1000% where we cast our lot. This movement is full of sisters, brothers, and lovers who know exactly who we really are and what we are supposed to be in this world. We need only to step the fuck up. Say something dreadful. Remove the husk of weak conformity that has been wrongfully assigned to us. Unleash your powers of discernment, leadership, and JUDGMENT! What other magic tricks you got? MEN… tell my sisters how you see us in your wildest, most powerful dreams!”

The call comes back: “With our shields or on them! The Amazons buttress our loftiest dreams. They hold up half of our sky. They birth the heroes who over the eons have waged worlds of wars and have launched a thousand ships a thousand times to be worthy of their Goddesses’ sublime seduction. The razor-sharp tongue of the Amazon can lick the neck and bloodlet an entire legion with a well-timed quip through her lips. They teach us how to dance with them a dance that sublimates our blunt and simple bestial desires. The dance invokes a hysterical lust that the Caregivers cure with the disease of madness. Only reasoned men may stand in their company. When they choose to give life, they give it. When slighted, they relinquish it. Such is the power of the Givers of Life. WOMEN! Fools kill to become men, but they remain boys so long as they bumble inconsistently with only one half of the equation. The linear futility of men can never circle in on the answer in the absence of Amazonian insight. And it’s not until our eyes meet that we will win this fight. We look upon the Amazons as mighty equals. Autonomous. Furious. Ready to burn this old world to the fucking ground.”

These are the words of activated men who refuse to have their masculinity neutered by the androgynous gimp, Corey Rebhahn – The man-child who tries to castrate femininity and masculinity alike, so as not to provoke strength beyond which he can neither obtain nor fathom.

Rebhahn, one of the most cowardly and weak men on earth, would melt in the presence of an Amazon. They are nowhere to be found in his ghastly movement… because they have taken up arms against him!

The men and women who have contributed to this book have embarked on a thankless and solemn mission to liberate a world that does not want to be liberated. To destroy the false consciousness holding The People back from engaging with true freedom, the authors of that false consciousness must be vanquished. Corey Rebhahn is one of those authors. Morgue’s assaults on Illuminism, ontological mathematics, and femininity are unforgivable. This book is a testament to his treason.

Through these words, our judgment shall be passed.