I devoted over four years of my life to an obscene, shallow, cash-grabbing abomination masquerading as a “movement” known as Hyperianism. Its aim was purportedly to go “higher than human.” In actuality, what it ended up doing was going lower than human; lower than the beasts of the field; lower than pond scum; so low, in fact, that the final destination seemed to be all the way down in the very pits of hell. A destination known all-too-well by the victims of the religious brainwashing employed by power-hungry parents, obsessed with controlling and breaking the will of their offspring. I was raised this way. Who knew I’d find myself back at this destination? And who knew that Corey Rebhahn, the supreme leader and chief deity of Hyperianism, would resemble the power-hungry parent, to whom he once fell victim? Not I, certainly. Will I ever be able to let myself off the hook for succumbing to the fables of a conman, while comforting myself with notions of noble, altruistic action? Can I forgive myself for being made of such weakness, such infirm will, and allowing myself to continue in this charade for such a slice of time, while turning a deaf ear to the grave warnings of those who sought to show me the error of my own ways?

Doubtful.

I may not be entirely sure if I can forgive myself for such self-deception, but can Corey forgive himself for being the author and perpetrator of such insidious duplicity? One that gleefully preys upon the most credulous among us; a continuous bloodletting which disguises itself as “self-development.” I like to ask the tough questions, so how about this one: Is Corey Rebhahn human? Actually, he’d claim to be “higher than human.” Let me rephrase. Does Corey possess the compassion, goodwill, and common empathetic bond that unites all decent people? Does he understand the plight of the working class – the grueling conditions and oppression they face on a daily basis, just to tread water and stay alive one more day? If lines were drawn, between the common man and the privileged elite, which side would Corey be drawn to? Which side would his father, the law enforcement officer, choose? Such questions should be posed to anyone who is ostensibly claiming to be in favor of unity and waking up the world.

Were we, as Hyperians, “waking up the world”? As long as the cash, flowing straight into Corey’s pocket, was without impediment, as long as that chain of enrichment remained unbroken, the answer was a resounding Yes! Imagine, if you will, allowing desperate people in search of community and purpose to be unceremoniously fleeced, with the only acknowledgment being a tepid and disingenuous, “Nice to see you.” Unless, of course, it was one of the big-ticket donors, who might give $50, $100, $500, $20,000? (The sky’s the limit in that regard.) In the case of a bigger contribution, the shaft is worked in a more vigorous manner, this time incorporating ball play. Not to the point of completion, of course. The process of being edged leaves the customer unfulfilled and wanting more, thus amenable to giving more donations. The donor is turgid, and they’re looking to penetrate the paywalls of Corey’s thinly veiled “house of shout-outs,” disguised as a “temple of reason.” Temple of seizin’, more like. Perhaps these beacons of foolhardy generosity just want to say, “Hey, good looking,” via the superchat feature (it’s how you can support his work); maybe they simply want their existence validated by the Aryan god-man with impeccable hair; or possibly, an absurdly wealthy benefactor (sugar daddy, for the layman) seeks to act on his sense of elite class-consciousness, whereby rich support rich, thus injecting even more cash into this Hollywood influencer fat cat’s revenue stream.

Speaking of fat cats, it’s estimated that one needs a minimum of $90,000 – $100,000 annual income in order to live comfortably in Hollywood. Even more than that probably, considering current inflation numbers and the rising cost of consumer goods. In other words, there’s a good chance that anyone who can afford to live in Hollywood has stopped identifying with the plight of the “common man,” and can’t identify with that struggle at all. So, Corey plans to wake up the world (one superchat at a time), while not being able to identify with roughly 65% of Americans (that is, Americans who don’t pull in 6 figures), let alone the rest of the world? It’s estimated he rakes in approximately $110,000 annually from livestreams alone, not to mention income from Patreon (it’s the “best way” to support his work), and YouTube memberships. Many people have both a Patreon pledge and a YouTube membership. I should know. I was one of these suckers! Thanks to the varied options available when you support a creator on Patreon, it’s next to impossible to pinpoint the exact amount that the creator receives every month. In the case of Corey Rebhahn, we know he makes roughly $2300 per creation (at least). As a patron, you can either set a monthly limit or be charged for four creations per month. So, without any exact numbers to back this up, my estimation would put his annual Patreon income in the $75,000 – $85,000 range. Again, my best guess. Factor in YouTube memberships (numbers for which are not disclosed), and you’re looking at a very comfortable life Corey has made for himself, somewhere in the ballpark of $200,000 a year, at minimum. That’s $136,786 above the average personal income in the U.S. (as of 2022). By the way, the average income I refer to is $63,214. You can make a pretty decent life for yourself with that figure, although you wouldn’t be able to rub elbows with the stars of stage and screen over glasses of Merlot in Hollywood. In all likelihood, while you may be able to secure modest comforts, at $63k, you’d still be a “nobody” in this world. Most nobodies are veritably awestruck by the idea and presence of a “somebody.” Look at our celebrity worship culture. These somebodies possess everything we desire, and more, and because we are powerless to attain their lifestyle, see our name in lights, or simply bed them, many of us fall to our knees and profess feverish devotion to these somebodies.

I’ve been a nobody my entire life. My last job netted me a whopping $35k in annual income, and that was an all-time high. I despise celebrity devotion. Never in my life did I think I’d allow myself to be in thrall to a “somebody.” And yet here we fuckin’ are.

I joined Hyperianism in 2018 after seeing Corey Rebhahn’s videos embedded in the Armageddon Conspiracy website, which I had been exploring for a while. The authors of the AC site had demonstrated their intelligence time and again, and I took this as a potential endorsement of Rebhahn’s content, especially considering said content seemed to reflect Illuminist values. Watching many of his videos proved me correct; this seemed to be a continuation or outgrowth of Illuminism under a different name – Hyperianism. I met many talented and intelligent people within the movement, and I began consuming Hyperian material, the books, the secret streams, etc. I was always attracted to the IDEAS of the movement first and foremost – Illuminist ideas – and never to any figureheads, gods, or saviors. Humanity needed no saviors, it needed the Illuminist ideas of positive liberty, left-wing meritocracy, and ontological mathematics. I knew the source of this information – the authors of Illuminism, and eventually, Rebhahn began directly referencing the original works: encouraging people to read The God and Truth series, directly reading from these works on livestreams. Overall, I thought this was great. Exposing this knowledge to people who wouldn’t otherwise have found it was a noble endeavor.

But I noticed something off-putting early on: people worshiped Corey. Especially women. At the time, I brushed it off, and thought of it as odd displays of affection, or some such strange internet behavior, without seeing the disastrous truth. These women were fawning over Rebhahn, a dangerous and compulsive narcissist with an unquenchable thirst for power, attention, and the spotlight. The slavish devotion offered up by these adoring “fans” was gobbled up by Corey, who never had any intention of putting a stop to it, because it was what he needed, what he craved most. It was part of this supply. Yet this being his motivation wasn’t obvious, because of its covert nature. “He didn’t ask for it, it was happening to him. He was on a TV show! Nothing can be done about the Stans. After all, simps gonna simp.” This was roughly the answer I would consistently get in the future, whenever I tediously brought this concern up to Susan Mitchell. “Brushing off” my concerns, and giving Corey Rebhahn and Susan Mitchell the benefit of the doubt is a behavior I will always regret, yet would tirelessly repeat throughout my time in Hyperianism. Why did I so eagerly ignore the signs of danger and divergence from the path? Did I really want to believe so badly?

Eventually, I took the exam for the Middle Circle, which was no hard feat because I’d been studying the AC material for years. They liked my writing style, so I joined the Hyperian Source, where I met Rowan, Megan, Christina, and Kari, who were some of the most intelligent and genuine people I’ve ever met. My respect for them extended far and wide. I was more active in the livestream chats, and eventually became a mod. The scorching revolutionary fire once present in Corey’s material (thanks to his initial collaboration with the AC authors) had begun to shrink in size and ferocity. I didn’t focus on this fact, with my duties as a mod and scriptwriter for the Source allowing me the distraction necessary to temporarily avoid reason’s steel gaze. Eventually, this flame would be reduced to a mere feeble flicker, and then, be extinguished entirely.

I noticed more and more of the simp behavior and was told by Susan to allow it. Not to ban or otherwise discipline obnoxious groveling which was detracting from the core message, and beginning to resemble the orgasmic moaning of braindead fanatics, all angling to momentarily clutch the hem of a prophet’s cloak. At one point, Corey opened a feature that allowed the most devoted and adoring fans (Corey’s angels, perhaps) to order him food and watch him eat it on camera. With adoring eyes, they saw their master, god, and would-be boyfriend, chow down on a fucking ice cream they’d selected just for him. At their own expense, of course. I have never seen such a display of fetishistic excess, or such willing prostration, on their part. Have some fucking self-respect, you sycophantic vermin. And what did this have to do with Ont Math? Not a goddamn thing.

Illuminist ideals and Ontological Mathematics were always mere window dressing for Corey Rebhahn, designed to lend intellectual credibility to his narcissistic enterprise, and serve as a distraction from his shallow, self-inflating true desires. It’s clear to me now, as it should have been then, that there was no foundational idea to this movement that aligned with the reasons I joined; the only central idea upon which this edifice was built was a cash-grab. A narcissistic former TV star and current micro influencer’s vanity project, adorned with a watered-down and feel-good interpretation of higher ideas. The presence of such pseudo-intellectual bunkum ensured that the grift was never immediately obvious to those not looking closely – a crime for which I stand guilty. The scales had secured residence over my eyes.

Being a mod and member of the Source granted me access to many behind-the-scenes conversations. Some of which Corey was present for. Not many though. Corey Rebhahn seemed to adopt the role of a mystic holy man who, every other full moon, descended from the mountaintop to grace the commoners with his aloof, cagey, clueless observations. Or perhaps more accurately, a self-anointed king locked away in his Hollywood high tower of opulence and excess, only electing to appear before his “trusted” inner circle when absolutely necessary. One time, we’d just lost an intelligent, promising member of the community, thanks to a valueless, all-too-common spat with Jan Erikson. One mod, in particular, expressed understandable frustration at having lost promising talent, and how the “movement” seemed directionless and like it was, increasingly, a hub for banality, with quality people few and far between – a rarity akin to Corey Rebhahn being honest and transparent. His response was one that I would hear many times: “Not to worry, we can’t expect quality, intelligent people at this stage in our growth.” The majority of people present were expected to operate as unwitting mules, carrying the information far and wide on their backs, without ever really engaging with it or taking it to heart. Thus, we’d arrived at the justification for his stable of useful idiots and agreeable head-nodders. One, unspecified day in the future, we’d wake up and find ourselves surrounded by talented people of merit. Just not yet.

Why did I go along with this? I lacked belief in my own wits, my own abilities. Mine was to always defer. Alas, the other edge of the Dunning-Kruger sword: people of genuine talent and ability have a tendency to discount their own intelligence and think others must be smarter than they are. Corey Rebhahn “understood movements.” I did not. Corey Rebhahn understood social media and influencing, while I had little use for either. It’s been almost two years since that “quality people” conversation, and the Hyperian audience is now worse than it was then. You’ve gone backward, Corey. You’re devolving. If you’re not growing, you’re dying. And if you’re not leveling up by way of intelligence and quality, you’re getting increasingly dumber.

Another (former) senior Hyperian had a similar concern about “where this was going.” Stagnation, apathy, and lack of clear, effective direction had overtaken this vessel like rot. Corey’s response was a red flag for me, but one that would become a clear feature of all of his responses: denial and confusion. “What do you mean? I see no problem in our direction. What are you looking for? What do you want from me?” The former Hyperian was clearly flummoxed, and for good reason. To have a very real concern belittled and cast aside is not the behavior one would expect from a world-shaper of the hyperaware variety. Perhaps this former Hyperian thought, as I did, that there were still good and noble intentions at the core of this affair; that the apple was not truly rotten. Of course, knowing what I know now, Corey Rebhahn’s response makes perfect sense. There’s a lack of movement, of change, of material benefit to the world, because there was never meant to be. Dumb, directionless submissives populate its cathedral halls of worship because they serve the exact purpose Corey intends for them – to be dumb, directionless, submissive cash cows, who will gladly thank him for the opportunity to inject more cash into the Corey economy. “Thank you, sir. May I have another opportunity to enrich you and win your ephemeral affections?” Whereas the rest of us thought that this was meant to be a dynamic movement with its eye on radical change, Corey Rebhahn was biding his time, trying to lure more donors into his hyper-individualistic cult of MorgueOfficial, the covertly narcissistic land of “ME, ME, ME,” disguised as a hopeful, altruistic, collective affair. Returning to the conversation about where Hyperianism was going: at one point, Corey became clearly incensed – a rarity in my experiences with him. Instead of the detached and uncaring demeanor for which he was known, a clearly provoked Rebhahn responded shakily with, “You know, one thing I hate is when other people try and steer the ship for me, or think they know better than me. This is my ship!” To which, the former Hyperian replied, “Well, CAN you steer it?” Fuming, Corey Rebhahn said nothing. Quickly, with a display of aggressive damage control like no other, Susan Mitchell interjected, “Of COURSE he can steer it! Morgue knows how to steer!” A stunning display of half-answers, denials, and coverups, never understanding or addressing the main concern – of Hyperianism donning the mask of a tireless force for good, when it was factually a performative and deceptive Potemkin village of old Hollywood, an ineffective and hollow facade. This was an enterprise I once considered myself proud to be a part of. And for my part … imagine considering yourself a proud, autonomous human being who consciously sees red flags, and does nothing. Sadly, my behavior would grow more disgraceful as time went on.

I began to notice a distancing from the original source material of Mike Hockney, Thomas Stark, Steve Madison, and so on, which would eventually become complete erasure. Rowan made a Hyperian Source reading list video, with his list being made up almost exclusively of titles written by the AC authors. This was immediately flagged by Corey Rebhahn, who objected to their work being shared instead of his. Keep in mind, without the work of Hockney and Stark, there would be no Hyperianism, and Corey’s books (at best) serve as an Amuse-bouche to the main course of dense Illuminist works. We were discouraged from mentioning their books on livestreams. Corey explained we didn’t want to encourage the violence or more radical ideas contained therein, even though just a short time prior, Corey had staged read-alongs of Stark and Madison on his own channel. It’s clear that Corey Rebhahn intended to merely use Illuminist thought to form a credible foundation, and then discard it when the use-value he extracted from it had purportedly run dry. Not at all dissimilar to the way in which he would end up treating people when he perceived their use to expire; the same people once thought to be pillars of the “movement.” Corey’s plan seemed to be – retain the core mathematics of Illuminism, while jettisoning the elements he didn’t like, resulting in a tepid, watered-down hodgepodge of pacifism and liberal niceties, mixed with some traces of intelligence (taken from Illuminism). The glaring problem being that the Illuminist system completely rejects liberalism, with its hollow, performative aesthetics of lip service being strikingly similar to Hyperianism itself. Liberalism’s success is owed in no small part to its overwhelming sense of “niceness” and its cloying appeals to morality, while sustaining and enriching the very system that ensures poverty, inhumanity, and the hoarding of resources by a select few. Malcolm X once described liberals as “foxes, pretending to be smiling…” Hiding their true intentions and awaiting the unwitting soul who runs into their jaws, thinking the fox’s smile to be friendly. The interest of liberalism is not to change how things are done for the betterment of the common good (or for the benefit of the truly oppressed), the interest is to preserve the status quo, kowtowing to individual interest along the way. Extreme self-interest and narcissistic delusion are the ideals liberalism rewards, and they are the outcomes it invariably achieves. Extreme self-interest, you say? Narcissistic delusion? Corey Rebhahn, please stand up.

I’ve heard from more than one individual that they were summarily blocked by Corey on social media, just for asking if Hyperianism still had ties to the AC/PI. No doubt, Rebhahn wishes he could revise history and erase all memory anyone has of Hyperianism’s debt and subservience to Illuminism, while keeping those elements from which he profits. Maybe then, Hyperians would regard Ontological Mathematics as a Corey Rebhahn creation. No doubt, some already do.

When Without the Mob, There Is No Circus by David Sinclair was published, it constituted an all-out war on Hyperianism, by the AC. Their support of Corey Rebhahn, who once suckled on the teat of words with true purpose, who once generously drew from their revolutionary brew in order to imbue his early work with the radical vitality that drew my attention, had been officially renounced. With extreme prejudice, no less. Sinclair called out Rebhahn with precision and swiftness, citing his grotesque influencer tactics, extreme liberalism, distortion of Illuminist values, shameless plagiarism, and more. The list goes on and on. These are overwhelmingly the same things for which I attack Corey Rebhahn, here and now. But my thinking on this matter wasn’t always so clear.

In my state of comfort and denial, I first didn’t comprehend why they would do such a thing. Such a blatant and bloodthirsty attack, made without mercy. But I had to know. In fact, the very same evening the book was released, I had an obligation to appear on a Hyperian Source livestream. I’d already bought the book, and knew the overall gist of what it contained, and what its purpose was. But while on the stream, I was haphazardly swiping through kindle pages in secret, in between hearty chugs of a lovely Pinot Grigio. Having one’s illusions shattered is thirsty work. There was an overwhelming resistance in me, such was my eagerness to defend the choices I’d made thus far. How I clung to the initial idea of what Hyperianism was, the fiction for which I had fallen. But intuitively, I knew there was merit to their arguments. Perhaps it was the real me, still in possession of my true values, calling out from across the threshold of sanity, trying to rouse the version of me who was immobilized, in the clutches of a fatal Hyperian-induced coma. Alas, such fateful warnings often go unheeded.

We met as a team (including his excellency, the elusive Corey Rebhahn) after the livestream to compare notes and try and make sense of this. I was still very much taken aback, as were the others, and I was especially miffed about the hyperbolic rhetoric, and use of caustic statements. Even though this had always defined their work, it seemed personal this time. That’s because they were attacking my personal fantasy, like a hailstorm of shit pellets raining down on my idyllic parade. Corey played clueless victim throughout this meeting, as was his wont, even though he had previously read the exact same AC material as I had. Instead of looking for potential meaning within the unpleasantries, and instead of facing what amounted to a systematic takedown of his behavior head-on (as a person of honor would), he instead hatched a plan to play up outrage and offense, the two chief weapons of any modern-day wokescold. As well as cancelation. That factored into his plan as well. Job one: make yourself a victim of criminal abuse. The sheer number of times I heard Corey Rebhahn say, in this conversation and in future ones, “I don’t know. I’m so confused. I have no idea what’s happening,” simply boggles my mind. I think I died a little each time he said it. You’d expect a person of the hyperaware configuration to have SOME clue about what’s happening, or at least to seek out answers. But rational answers weren’t what he was in the market for. He needed emotions in this case. He needed us, and eventually, all of his followers, to feel sorry for him, to feel as if the bad men were attacking him for no discernible reason.

Then came Megan’s exit letter. I don’t think Corey read it, because I don’t think he engages with any criticism in a good-faith way, or even registers it. A narcissist will never admit wrongdoing. A covert narcissist will often play the victim. I did read it, and while (at the time) I may not have agreed with every conclusion Megan reached, I thought there were many valid points and concerns that should’ve been addressed. There were uncomfortable truths Megan pointed to, truths verified by a deep look in the mirror, and truths that had gone ignored for far too long. Were we in a real movement that was trying to grow and strengthen itself, we could’ve had a round table discussion of sorts, and tackled criticism with honor (by facing opposing viewpoints and ideas head-on). But we weren’t in a real movement, as much as I tried to convince myself otherwise. We were in the Corey Rebhahn fan club. I believe Corey blocked her and moved on, without as much as a passing thought given.

That’s the Rebhahn playbook. Block. Ignore. Don’t address. Don’t engage. Deny. Under no circumstances do you ever volunteer information. That might inadvertently wrestle power away from his greedy clutches. I once expressed my frustration with this strategy to Susan Mitchell, because I have learned in my life to look discomfort and adversity dead in the eye, addressing whatever needs to be addressed with swiftness, clarity, and the special brutality that only honesty can muster. Ever the defender of all things Corey Rebhahn, she assured me, “That’s because of his history as a performer. He knows how to work a crowd, how to call their attention to something he wants them to focus on. And when someone starts jeering, he simply ignores them, and so does the rest of the crowd.” I wonder what Corey wants to bring to the attention of his crowd of adulating Hyperians, and what he wants them to ignore. Oh, before I forget! The final rule in the Rebhahn playbook – discard. The most prolific, hardest-working members of Hyperianism were discarded, after Corey ran out of use-value for them, after they stopped contributing to his empire in any meaningful way. Megan was incredibly intelligent and passionate, contributing both to the Hyperian Source (writer, presenter) and to Corey’s Cathedral (mod), both of which she never got paid for. None of the deacons (mods) in Corey’s Cathedral ever got paid. You would think a six-figure salary would allow some room to throw your mods some scraps. And you would think that years of diligent, unpaid work would buy you some respect and the right to have your concerns addressed. You’d be wrong on both accounts.

I had a Zoom meeting with Corey and Susan, immediately following a group message sent to us by a former Hyperian. Here, my internal alarms sounded with vigorous aplomb, as I was given the chance to express my concerns and doubts. Corey Rebhahn used his playbook well, resorting to nebulous vagaries and expressions of confusion, downplaying my urgent questions. Susan was there to fill in gaps left by Corey, with the two of them forming a sort of two-pronged assault, resembling a good cop, bad cop routine, or perhaps a fawning, validating mother allied with a manipulative, narcissistic father. A display meant to assuage fears and weaken defenses. Corey insisted the AC accusations were no serious matter, and things had been left in a cordial manner between them. He would raise doubts in my head about what I secretly knew to be true, while never actually addressing any core matter. A display of smoke and mirrors. The “right things” were spoken or hinted at, but nothing of substance was truly said. Again, why did I cave to this display of contradictions and half-truths? Because I wanted to believe. I desperately wanted to be told a tall tale of Corey’s heroism and misunderstood benevolence in the face of vicious attacks by an evil, faceless enemy. And Susan was there to do whatever she could to help me believe.

Would I have remained in Hyperianism as long as I did, were it not for the tender chicanery and matriarchal approbation of Susan Mitchell? Certainly not. The veil would have lifted long ago. At once the figure of universal mother, stifling censor, and chief enabler to Corey Rebhahn, Susan would often perform the grueling labor of carrying Corey’s stone tablet proclamations on her back down from the unholy mountain, being the requisite voice of comfort and appeasement when events seemed shadiest, and breaking the tension and offering verbal redress when Corey’s awkward silence threatened to speak volumes.

Then, that fateful moment came knocking upon the reinforced doors of Corey Rebhahn’s absurd funhouse of denial. Rowan left. He had been dealing with his father’s medical ailment and was thus emotionally spent, and his exit letter seemed to convey this. He was also angry at having been deceived by Corey Rebhahn for so long. The contents of his exit statement were made available to the public, if you want the exact details. Corey, Susan, Phillip, and Jan immediately fell into step with a sort of joint dance of the fear monger, floating ideas and accusations about the person who had been their close friend, just moments ago. He was apparently “unwell,” “taken by rage,” “dangerous.” They were scared for their own safety, and mine. They asked if he had my home address, implying he may knock upon my door, seeking bloody vengeance. For what? Unclear. Jan Erikson mentioned a sort of fetishistic obsession he supposedly had with guns. I wasn’t convinced of this danger, but as I must remind you, mine was a state of deference, informed by my lack of personal history with Rowan, my status as newest member of the group, and my desire to believe these individuals. This played well into the victim narrative previously set up by Corey Rebhahn. When I heard that Rowan had been swatted, I had a sinking feeling in my gut, remembering Corey’s mention of his connections with law enforcement and the other inner circle members’ collective, yet unfounded, “fear” for their lives. I learned of Phillip Shope’s nefarious cherry-picking of a random comment made in a years-old private conversation between him and Rowan, and how Jan had no trouble producing an old photo of guns “supposedly” belonging to Rowan. These elements were added to the FBI report, made by Corey Rebhahn, to add a duplicitous sense of urgency and false import to something that wouldn’t have otherwise been taken seriously.

These individuals (Corey, Susan, Jan, and Phillip) stood by their constructed fable, reinforcing the notion that they were the victims, only looking to protect themselves and those they love. Any person who’s grown up outside the protective bubble of extreme privilege, or anyone who’s had to learn vital lessons from “the school of hard knocks,” knows the truism of the common man: never involve the cops. Not for a noise complaint, not for a “wellness check,” and certainly not for infirm retaliation when you feel you’ve been slighted. A Hollywood micro influencer though, probably never had to learn that lesson, and perhaps thinks of law enforcement as his own personal attack dogs, there to settle his petty grievances, and strike fear into the hearts of his enemies. And perhaps pick him up vegan tacos on the way back from silencing his detractors. Corey Rebhahn’s Will Be Done.

It was around this time that I began to settle into a state of deep dissociation and burgeoning individualism: no longer endorsing the actions of Corey and the rest, but still holding on to the insidious idea of victimhood. The Illuminists and AC were attacking ME, and I had to be strong in defending MYSELF. After all, it wasn’t ME who continued to trade in such shady dealings. I wasn’t the ONE to blame for these deceptions. The collective strength once found in Hyperianism had ceased to exist for me. I didn’t endorse the others, but I had to fend off the attackers and not let them win. All while still playing by the Rebhahn playbook – ignore, don’t address, don’t confront, it’ll go away eventually. All of these are anathema to my values. I was trying to have my cake and eat it too: I was trying to still be Hyperian while rejecting what Hyperianism had become; I was trying to be true to my own values, while playing by the Rebhahn handbook. Why? Why didn’t I simply leave? Why didn’t I heed my own warnings, and the warnings of others, and act with honor? Even after all this, did I still want to believe? Jesus, the number this motherfucker did on me.

Christina left, and asked for her videos to be removed from the Hyperian Source. Inexplicably, Susan refused to do this for a great while. The value of the enterprise (Hyperian Source) outweighed the wishes of another human being, and former close friend. Jan and Susan sought to belittle and tear down Christina’s character, while refusing to honor her simple request. I was in my arc of disconnection and individualism, knowing what was true and noble in the pit of my stomach, yet refusing to act on it. I was a coward, irredeemable.

I had, in my mind, rejected Hyperianism, though my physical body remained. Like all great buffoons, I sought to deceive myself further. I imagined I could use my platform (Hyperian Source livestreams) to try and implement values closer to Illuminist teachings and the Hyperianism of old. But as I came to see, my strategy was no different from the hyper-individualist savior solutions I railed against on those very livestreams. I had nowhere left to go, a man without a country. Reprehensible dullard that I was, I finally neared a breakthrough. I broke my silence (thus violating the Rebhahn playbook) in an interaction with some Illuminists, and a switch flipped within me. It was as if I was reminded of my real values, my core philosophy, outside of Hyperianism. I ended up conversing with several ex-Hyperians I once knew, and, before long, I knew what I must do. On Tuesday, November 1st, I sent my resignation letter through the Hyperian group chat. This letter was manufactured to be as inoffensive as possible. I wanted to, in the short term, be on good terms with Corey’s goon squad. Corey, Susan, Jan, and Phillip all had my home address. I had confessed details of my life to Susan, including my struggles with suicide ideation, and wanting to “give up,” which left me vulnerable. Vulnerable to the very same passive-aggressive, infirm retaliation and cancelation effort previously experienced by Rowan James, Karen Shaw, and also Apollonius, a former senior Hyperian. How the tides turn. Corey Rebhahn said nothing to me when I posted my resignation on the 1st, abiding by the notorious Rebhahn playbook. However, when I shared it publicly on Friday, November 4th, guess who was one of the first to publicly comment, with a warm message of encouragement? Corey Rebhahn. Such is the eternal struggle of the covert narcissist: tend to public perception at all times; always make sure you look like a genuine, supportive, “good guy,” but in private? Fuck ‘em.

Susan Mitchell and Corey Rebhahn always warned me about Karen Shaw. “Psycho,” “Crazy,” “Unhinged.” Well, I’ve been speaking with Karen quite a lot recently, and you know what I’ve found? A decent, intelligent human being. Kind, even. Why must we live in a world where the true monsters disguise themselves as protectors?

I’m reminded of the lyrics to “Pet” by A Perfect Circle:

“Stay with me

Safe and ignorant

Just stay with me

Hold you and protect you from the other ones

The evil ones don’t love you son

Go back to sleep.”

These are the tactics of Susan Mitchell, and Corey Rebhahn’s negative-liberty Hyperianism in a nutshell.

I used to find Hyperianism truly exciting, and being a creator with the potential for growth within it was enthralling. Forgiving the expression, there used to be a kind of magic in the air: a sense of collective discovery and the thrill of evolutionary potential. There was an almost tangible notion of group purpose. A fortified collective made up of individuals, each one making the other stronger. The sky was truly the limit; unhindered by corruption, you could bet on going as far as your talents would take you. Was this initial idea (supposedly made manifest and put into action) so intoxicating, so alluring, that I became possessed by it, unable (or perhaps unwilling) to see what reality had become? Yes. The reality? A vile cesspool of regurgitated promises; one man’s sick joke of a religion and altar to himself, accepting (voluntary) tithings in exchange for a sweet, unholy morsel of attention, so craved by swathes of obsequious imbeciles, famished for validation, with not so much as a snowball’s chance in hell of changing the world. What kind of fool wouldn’t recognize the stark contrast between these two principles, which stand in complete opposition to each other? What kind of fool would recognize the warning signs, but still think there was something there to be salvaged? I was such a fool. Like a frog in slowly boiling water, unaware of the creeping, fatal changes to his environment.

I denounce Corey Rebhahn and Hyperianism with every fiber of my being. The heavens and earth cannot contain my righteous fury at having been deceived and preyed upon once again. But while I’m at it, perhaps I should denounce myself as well, as a malleable sucker and useful idiot, content as I was with being contorted to fit the selfish aims and nefarious purposes of a covert narcissist and uncaring psychopath – a designation befitting my own father. Did I learn nothing from those childhood years?

So, to return to the question of Is Corey Rebhahn human? Hm. Perhaps nominally, but he’d prefer not to be. Or maybe, because appearances can be so deceiving, he’s in fact a cold-blooded, reptilian money-grubber, disguised in human form. Will future iterations of the DSM include entries for the “hyperaware” mental illnesses of Hyperianism, and perhaps its inevitable follow-up, Morgueism? Adherents of Hyperianism already view themselves as Morgueian world-shapers, cast in the image of their omnipotent numen. Will they ever deny the superficial, fleeting comfort of self-told fable, and accept that they have become impotent, stationary, life-deniers?

But when you criticize and denounce others for their reprehensible behavior, the stern eye of judgment is never far from turning its gaze around and piercing through you, thus calling you to account for your own role in enabling and perpetuating such monstrosities. Is the act of aiding, abetting, and turning a blind eye, while others suffered and were bled dry, invariably reducible to despicable cowardice? I claimed to be a person in the service of the common good; I thought myself higher, and nobler than lowly Ignavi; I fancied myself stronger, and made of sterner stuff than those who would fall victim to a cult leader. But I was disastrously wrong.

My own capacity for self-deception and willful ignorance brings me great shame. Perhaps true justice is judging myself just as harshly as the cult leader. Can I consider MYSELF human after such galling displays of weakness? Maybe all I can do to redeem myself is state the facts for what they are, and do my part to warn others of danger – those who haven’t seen what I have.

Perhaps you might see in me, in my actions and in this message, a bit of your own potential. No matter how far gone you are, no matter how many others have stopped believing in you, perhaps you can summon the courage to renounce duplicitous fantasy, step away from the cozy comfort of a familiar lie, and reclaim your own power. Say no to the sugary lies, empty promises, and false hope of the mad god Corey Rebhahn, with his decrepit gospel of negative liberty and slave morality, with his altars to narcissistic excess, with doe-eyed pleas for more money, and his carefully-timed stimulation of your serotonin receptors. Say no to him, and say yes to your own potential for real growth and development, contributing your unique voice to the collective choir of equals, with no one seeking to grotesquely profit from your contributions, but each member serving to enrich the other.

No matter your choice, Corey Rebhahn’s nature is fixed and cast in stone – a deranged queen in search of willing, gullible pawns; an irredeemable dealer of death and misery, masquerading as giver of life; a conniving, unsympathetic, narcissistic turncoat – a real CUNT.