Descent into Anonymous

Part 1-Lulz from Anons

Anonymous is the go to collective of hackers for media outlets that want to drum up fear for internet freedom. The weapon of choice for Anonymous is a distributed denial of service attack, also known as DDoS. DDoS works by overloading a web server to the point where it can no longer function for a few hours. Nothing about it is very threatening in reality.

I’m writing this in a public library, sick with paranoia that these preteens around me are Anons. They look like Anons. In Anonspeak an Anon is a member of Anonymous. Anons will deny they are a member of anything. This is just the base of the inside-out pyramid of contradictions that form the body of Anonymous ideology.

Anons are far above the lowly label of group. Anonymous prefers the self-gratifying label of ‘hyper-consciousness.’ In truth, most Anons are a collection of sub-conscious slaves, sucked in by ingenious propaganda. Anonymous might be the latest development in bot net technology. A bot net is kind of like a large bank of computers that can be drawn upon for a DDoS attack. Hackers used to have to write computer viruses to create a bot net. Anonymous is like a bot net that is spread and maintained by viral ideology.

Anonymous is easy to get sucked into. I became obsessed myself. I don’t blame these kids for wanting to be activists, I understand that. Defiance is the appeal. Yet it doesn’t take a lot of insight to see that the true feature of an Anon is not activism or defiance. It is submission.

I’m an expert troll with over a decade of experience. In AnonSpeak a troll is a highly honorable position of power. A troll disconnects himself from all preconceived notions and creates a narrative that is designed to outrage others. Trolls feed off of lulz. Derived from the older acronym LOL, which means laughing out loud, lulz has a deeper connotation of self-satisfaction. I wrote a masterful opinion piece, every detail designed to outrage Anonymous and challenge as many of their ideologies as possible. I published it to AnonNews and traffic to my web site increased 50-fold overnight. It was cake. In AnonSpeak, cake is something that was just too damned easy.

If only I could have dropped it there. There were too many lulz to be had, too much cake for the eating. I had drawn myself into their twisted virtual world.

Part 2-Descent

My magnum opus of trolling art rocketed to the top of the list of least popular stories on AnonNews. The piece was entitled “Why Anonymous is completely irrelevant.” Among other things, I criticized AnonNews for putting up advertisements and using PayPal to take donations. Within a day, the ads were down. AnonNews began to accept donations through a different service, too. The commentary on AnonNews was the most delicious kind of troll food. They were “butthurt” to say the least. The lulz were more addictive than any drug I have ever taken. There was too much troll food for any single troll to eat. Some began eating the scraps, even adopting my pseudonym ‘Kilgore Trout’ when it suited them.

This public library computer lab is the type of place that Anons would congregate, in my imagination. There are the furtive whispers of children, defective fluorescent lights. The lightly clattering keys and snapping mice beat out a modern tribal rhythm that seems to be somehow perfectly in step with the disorganized light show. Insane thoughts have been planted in their heads, silently manipulating the vacillating children subjects into organized action.

I played my ego, speaking of my many talents and the cake that influence over them was. I even issued a press release to warn Anonymous how easy they were to hijack while taking credit for doing so. I was the lord king glutton of trolls, overfed and over read. I’ll even share my favorite piece of troll food. Some anon rightly accused me of pilfering from Vonnegut, and said that I did not live up to the name of Kilgore Trout. I still go into uncontrollable fits of laughter at the idea of not living up to Vonnegut’s alter ego, his exercise in brutal self deprecation.

I didn’t sleep, I missed work. When I did work I would break into hysterics, unable to stop laughing about how much power I had over these morons. It had all started out as a joke, but I could sense my influence, it was something tangible. I changed from a being of flesh and blood into a virtual body comprised of nothing but lulz. Every affectation and trait that defined the super hero “hyperconsciousness” these children had built their cult around invaded my being. I had become their own hideous reflection.

Part 3-Westboro Baptist

Westboro Baptist is a cult run by Fred Phelps that uses strategies similar to trolling so that it can sustain itself. They go to soldiers’ funerals and call everyone there a bunch of fag lovers. When the fists fly, they profit. Anonymous posted a press release promising DDoS attacks on the activists at Westboro Baptist shortly after my influence had risen. Westboro Baptist responded by posting their own press release on AnonNews. It said quite simply, “bring it on.”

I went on the warpath. These were my lulz, not Fred Phelps’.  I was in charge here, not some shitty church. I began to meddle with these children’s minds. I dropped my pseudonym. I was Anonymous, hyperconsciousness in the flesh. I spread rumors that Westboro Baptist Church had posted the threat themselves. I began to call anyone who disagreed a WBCfag and accused them of infiltrating Anonymous. Within a few hours, multiple press releases reflected this twisted version of reality and reinforced the point of view that had descended from my hegemony. All attacks were called off, and I celebrated my victory over Fred Phelps and Anonymous with a 40 oz. for me and all my friends.

Even then, I had continued to accept the idea that there were no leaders. Yet as someone who had found the method to exercise control over Anonymous, I began to see evidence of an invisible hand.

Despite the lack of support, Anonymous was insistent on attacking Westboro Baptist. A DDoS attack was impossible because I had scuttled the mass interest. Instead, a small group or individual gained root access to Westboro Baptist’s web servers and defaced them. All the power I had gained was gone as easily as it had come. Someone was surely pulling some strings from behind the scenes, employing a kind of virtual secret police to get the job done.

Part 4-The Hegemony Strikes Back

I know they’re going to come after me. The threats have been mounting. They’re going to deface my web site and publish all my e-mails and chat logs. I’m ready for it. If Anonymous was more grounded in reality, they would threaten to murder me.

Anonymous bears all the hallmarks of a totalitarian regime. First of these is the derisive labeling of enemies. Anons call me a namefag. Namefag is of course Anonspeak for enemy. The group of allies I have made are called moralfags. This is also Anonspeak for enemy. I pity these exploited young men that have been tricked into hatred.

Anons believe that anonymity protects them from the government. This is a fantasy. They also believe it can protect them from outsiders who would hijack their movement. What a joke! I committed my most vile acts of influence by assuming anonymity and abusing the nature of these weak young men. The hand that silently manipulates these kids knows that preaching anonymity, anarchy, and nihilism keeps them shackled with totality. It keeps out new ideas and new leaders. Their naivety is exploited just as in any totalitarian state.

Anonymous is manipulated by propaganda. Every press release is punctuated with the following mottoe:

We are Anonymous

We are legion

We do not forgive

We do not forget

Expect us.

Press releases appear criminal and intimidating. They use fiery language and incite anger. They make Anons feel part of something not only important, but bad ass. These kids go and tell girls at school that they are Anons in the hopes it will get them some action. Hell, it might even work. Oh, baby, won’t you wear that Guy Fawkes mask while we dry hump?

The insecurities and fantasies of Anons are also exploited. The pervasive use of ‘fag’ in Anonspeak plays on the young men’s uncomfortable sexuality. They are frustrated living in a world where adults control them, so they slip into a false reality. Here, Anonymous is a godlike super being that they can worship and be a part of. It is a kind of personality cult constructed around a hyperconsciousness that is lifted straight out of science fiction. These kids DDoS Egyptian government web sites and then take credit for the entire revolution. The propaganda compares Anons to protesters in the streets. They are fed the lie that one day Anonymous will bring freedom to everyone on Earth. It is a very pleasant fantasy.

Anonymous shows every sign of being manipulated by somebody. I know what kind of mind is behind Anonymous. It is the pet project of a genius with an unnatural ability to create viral ideas. He or she has carefully crafted Anonymous just to take it for a joyride. To this person, the power from Anonymous is its own end. Yet I would also consider the possibility that Anonymous has been carefully engineered by a government or multi-national corporation. To them, Anonymous is only a means to quicken the erosion of internet freedom, an imminent threat to their power.


What The Legion and Westboro Baptist Church have in common

  • Extremist views on the freedom of speech
  • Seek attention with the element of shock
  • Exclusive
  • Hateful
  • Self-Righteous
  • Excessive use of the word fag
  • Trolls till death
  • Homophobic

The Jester has taken credit for his fail of a false-flag attack on Westboro Baptist. Westboro Baptist and The Legion have buried the hatchet. The Legion is waiting for Westboro Baptist to figure out how to reboot their servers, so they can flood Westboro’s communications devices with praise for how they have “really shown those fags who’s boss.”

Anonymous – “Holy Lulz. +1!”

You know, I’ve read what Nate Phelps has to say about his father, Fred. It is no wonder that 31% of Fred Phelp’s children have fled. He beats his entire family into submission. There’s also the fact that Fred Phelps faps to one single thought, “Not only do I get to ruin your funeral, but now you have to pay me for it!” Seeing as he’s now weaker than those he once beat on, I don’t see why the rest of his kids even stick around. The old man’s crazy and must get in their way. The protests seem to be a kind of pointless slavery now that most marks have wised up, but the old bastard just won’t give up. Well, at least they’ll always have the faith to feed them.

Just for some kicks, here is what The Legion and Westboro Baptist Church don’t have in common.

  • The ability to use a computer
  • Foresight
  • Public support
  • A future
  • Education
  • Pragmatism

Now back to your regularly scheduled information cycle.

The Legion of 2021

The Legion was once a young collective, a hivemind not yet awakened to true consciousness. The Legion acted as a kind of international provocateur that fed on reactions. It grew and the world around it grew also. Mobile phones that could access the internet and take video made dictatorships an intolerable thing of the past. First to those in the Muslim world, then later to those in greater Africa, and eventually to those in South America.
When all was said and done, the upheaval in the Middle East had one net effect on the global balance of power: The United States and Europe lost all their influence except in Israel and Iraq. Despite a technological edge that prevented a mire such as Vietnam, holding power in Afghanistan was simply too difficult. The people were loyal to local warlords who took power whenever the opportunity presented itself. Applying the kind of overhwelming force that was necessary to destroy all opposition was too expensive in a place that had so little to offer for reward.
The genocide that followed these events was simply the crystallization of all the influence that European powers had failed to maintain. Israel used a nuclear weapon on Iran. Iran responded by invading Iraq. The world could not ignore the videos of Iranian troops marching into Iraq, greeted as liberators. The propagandists in the West spun these events in favor of Israel, creating a fantasy that Israel only hoped to pre-empt Iran’s actions decisively. For a small period of time this actually seemed to work.
Yet the world had changed beyond the scope of Israel’s aging leadership. They had failed utterly to pre-empt the true threat to their power. The genesis to a fully aware and active populace in America and Europe had reached what some have now dubbed a “singularity”. There was no hiding the true intentions of Israel.
In the past, attempts to provide inside information revealing the true intentions of governments and multi-national corporations were easily undermined and discredited. Trusted media shared interests with both the government and corporations in quieting these operations. Attacks on their credibility were all too easily manufactured and widely believed.
At the same time, The Legion was slowly building an infrastructure of highly unlocalized and redundant communications systems. These had grown naturally out of anonymous image boards, where users met to share interesting images of all kinds. At first, these systems were used to orchestrate online pranks that required the participation of hundreds or thousands. Out of these small beginnings a righteous subculture was born that realized how politically effective the collective could one day be. Prank slowly evolved into protest and this was the birth of The Legion.
The Legion gained massive attention from their provocations and new users flooded in. Thousands became tens of thousands. There was a flow of new ideas and despite some resistance from the more acculturated participants, good ideas stuck. This was just the nature of The Legion. The influx of newbies wanted more action and sooner. Democratic systems began to organize and focus the collective into more meaningful and popular action.
Old media outlets began to publish exaggerated and alarmist pieces in an attempt to stir up fear and opposition against the Legion, mistaking it for a conspiracy and not recognizing it as a collective. The focused, righteous, and effective actions spoke for The Legion and The Legion found sympathizers everywhere. Members of the media came forward with inside information that revealed how the attacks on The Legion were purposefully contrived to skew the truth. Members of the government brought proof that they were in collusion with the media and other corporations. People stopped trusting traditional news sources and The Legion became the most powerful and popular outlet for news.
The Legion’s most important and defining achievement was to completely undermine Israel one month after Tehran was turned into a glass crater. The documents on Israel that The Legion publicized were known as the Genocide Torrent. The source remains Anonymous to this day. Consisting of the correspondences of the highest ranking officials in the Israeli government and military, the Genocide Torrent was ridiculed by corporate media as imaginative fiction, but the tactic no longer applied to such an aware populace. Within days, America withdrew all support for Israel and condemned their actions. The ghetto-states of former Palestine revolted and marched on Jerusalem. The entire world celebrated the fall of a second Berlin Wall. In the streets, there was a final and moving show of grief for the massacre in Tehran, now a holy city of Martyrs.
Meanwhile, The Legion celebrated behind their computers in the only way they knew how: +1, Lulz.

Why "Anonymous" is completely irrelevant

Anonymous refuses all definitions, yet a close look at their actions is all one needs to understand what they are all about. Anonymous is not a group of socially minded and technologically savvy internet users that want to change the world for the better. They are not a group at all. Instead, they are a loose federation of loud mouths and hackers who mostly want to make a buck or achieve the goal of inflating their selfish pride-albeit anonymously. In the most sophisticated achievement to date, Anonymous has managed to cripple and embarrass HBGary, a security firm that insulted Anons everywhere by infiltrating their IRC channel and figuring out the handles of those responsible for deployment of the LOIC. Not only is this attack childish, spiteful, and pointless, but it shows that Anonymous is most willing to use their potential for positive change instead for self-aggrandizing and meaningless pursuits.

As Iran continues to injure and kill protesters as in 2009, Anonymous continues to take down symbolic political targets on the web with their weakest tool, LOIC. The power of a symbol is in the attention it receives from the media and Anonymous has only been truly successful in these kind of attacks on Visa and Mastercard. It is hard to grasp and explain the Anonymous mindset because there are very few things that “Anons” have in common. Firstly, they are all internet users. Secondly, “Anons” choose to remain anonymous, but only in principle. The truth is that “Anons” assume the security of anonymity whether or not it truly applies.

I feel it is a wholly weak and pitiful trait of humankind that we must hide our identities to speak our mind or to take action. I believe anonymous is comprised of weaklings who take action in fear and would not do so if they did not believe they could get away with it anonymously. You are not brothers to protesters in the streets, you are cowards who sit behind computer screens and put your greatest efforts towards selfish pride instead of greater good. Hacktivist is too good of a term for Anons. That implies an ultimate purpose where there is obviously none.

Of all the facets of Anonymous, AnonNews is the most despicable. I’d challenge them to release their financial records but that’s not even necessary. Using PayPal, hated enemy of free speech, the owner takes donations and PayPal gets their dirty little share. Not only that, but they’ve gotten some cash from Military Recruiters. Yet no one seems to care about what amounts to blatant financial exploitation of the Anonymous phenomenon.

Anons are weak and pitiful for not holding AnonNews to account.

Anons are weak and pitiful for attacking HBGary when they could make a change that matters.

Anons are weak and pitiful for remaining anonymous.

We are Anonymous.
We are Legion.
We do not forgive,
We do not forget,
Expect us
Photoshopped to highlight what no one seems to pay attention to. See what I'm doing here?

Record Storm From South Will Bring Budweiser, Hit Wife In Front Of Family

The most hateful storm of the centuryPleasant View, Tenn.–A severe weather warning issued by FEMA Sunday said the winter storm coming in from The South will undoubtedly bring a case of Budweiser and beat its wife across the Midwest.

“It may try to sell you AmWay,” the agency warned in a press release.

A FEMA spokesperson asked anxious Americans from Texas to Missouri to ensure proper insulation against the ice storm’s flurried requests to hear “Freebird!” and ignore demands to “Git ‘er done.”

“There’s really nothing to get done,” he said. “It’s just a phrase ignorant storms use to simulate productiveness where actually the only force at work is a lifetime of destruction.”

The blizzard currently moving into Tennessee is reportedly a “huge fan of Billy Ray Cyrus.”

As the storm front moves Northward, scientists speculated it may join an identical sister weather pattern moving through the Upper Midwest. This will likely produce an incestuously unpredictable mutant super-storm in the skies over Tennessee, a storm scientists believe to be a reflection of its inner-perceived white supremacy among the land over which the snow falls.

Meteorologists predict the supersized inbred mutant storm of the south will snow all manner of chromosomes, moonshine, and condensed self-hatred, challenging science’s fundamental understanding of Nature and diminishing the dignity of our country as a whole.

Meteorological Society &
Prussian Blue – “The Snow Fell”

Lebal Drocer, Inc. is proud to announce acquisition of Budweiser Co.
We own everything that matters, and most of what doesn't.
Let us remind you that Budweiser is the most delicious beverage
on the market - no, in the WORLD - and it's perfect for any occasion!
  • weddings
  • church
  • family get-togethers
  • maintaining alcoholism
  • uncomfortable touching of family members
  • mall-ballin'

Jet Pilot Eyes

Featured here are the Lampshade Drama.

She had Jet Pilot eyes from her hips on down, so I remember.

I watched her quietly from a dark corner, really looking like a stalker. I suppose acting like one, too, although you could say I have a disposition for being unfavorable.

She wouldn’t look over here, so I did everything I could to keep it that way. I sat perfectly still, staring at her. By now, she had to be uncomfortable from this; not that she’d really made eye contact with me but after so long one starts to feel like they’re being watched.

I was not only watching her, I was imagining her story. I projected my desires onto her and pictured her to be the kind of chick who doesn’t need to be in a place like this bar, someone with a better life and better home outside of here, who just needed to duck in and make sure this scene still isn’t for her every so often. Someone with DVDs of her favorite TV show, popcorn in the cabinets and a tall bottle of wine for one.

Someone unlike me.

‘What am I doing here?’ I thought. ‘I could be working, or better yet, drinking alone at home where these sour losers don’t go, where I am the best and only one, where I am King.’

I looked into my beer and then back at my Queen. A guy sat next to her and they were really chatting it up. Her smile had in it something stern. A seriousness. It told me she is a woman of ease and difficulty at once, simple but tough and likes it rough.

It told me she probably didn’t have a bottle of wine back at the place, or maybe shared an apartment under the pretense of a complicated partnership she’s looking to get out of.

Doesn’t sound like my thing. Or maybe she’s a ladyboy.

No matter.

There is a terrible lack of empathy in the world.



The Dangers of Capital Thought in a New Millennium

By James K. Galloway

The United States Government is clamping down on personal freedoms through some kind of overarching groupthink injection pattern across favorable corporate media platforms and into the collective unconsciousness. It scares me in ways their extroverted propaganda campaign of fear can’t touch; the FOX News kind of shit, the decoys for what mind games are really at play. But I study it. The machine, that is. I prod at it, testing its features, habits, strengths and weaknesses, like those of an animal. Of ferocity and controlled power, of the naked Lady Liberty flexing her leg muscles like a gazelle as she pushes back against pressure from the front. When I write about the government, I feel as if I am both the hunter and the hunted.

I don’t trust governments or leaders. Too many people in this world suffer atrocities at the hands of governments and organized combat. We aren’t taught the whole truth in grade school, but nearly everyone is taught that people suffered after one man took dictatorial control of the German government in the 1930s and 40s. The mass media is panicking like it’s the Fifties and I feel like I should have been born in the Sixties. We’re plodding through an economy worse than the Seventies while Senior Executives party like it’s the Eighties. And I wish it was still the Nineties.

I learned how to write throughout the Nineties, taking notes from Ren ‘n Stimpy, Mad Magazine, and my mom’s old copies of Newsweek. Between 2000 and 2010, I learned that writing is my form and my place in the world. And now, in this foul year of our Lord, Twenty Eleven, I have learned without much doubt that I will be forced to use it to the best of my abilities to defend the civil rights of Americans, and indeed of all people across all lands, for they are compromised at every corner, shucked at every boundary, and permanently eroded with every lying breath of every justifiable abuse of the authorities granted to the people we pay to protect us – but at the behest, and with the permission of, our corporate overseers – are happy to chip away at the Constitution in exchange for a bit of job security, one nightstick blow to the head at a time.

Also in the Nineties, we were not in a “State of Emergency” like we are now, like Nazi Germany. The State of Emergency has been renewed every year since September 11, 2001, usurping checks and balances, giving the Head of State more control than we elected him into. Maybe Obama hasn’t used these powers, or abused them, and maybe he has. All we know for sure is that he renewed our State of Emergency, based on terrorist attacks that took place within a few hours almost ten years ago, and a handful of failed plots since then.

Since 1967, Egypt has been in a State of Emergency.

Yet, the people here do nothing. They look on as their neighbors are violated, as their friends and family are surveyed and arrested for conspiracy to commit capital thought. The few with the balls to stand in the way of injustice merely get their hands closed in the door jam. So darkness falls on those, too, who try to help, whose intentions are pure, lives totally organic, natural and human. The darkness eventually closes in on us all, when there are no more peace-loving reasonable-heads left between you and rubber bullets, riot batons, mace and tasers. We must all taste the failure of the 1960s and the failure of goodness to halt the war machine as it slowly diminished the joy of being alive. As our love for life is quietly destroyed off-air. Offline. Out of sight, and out of mind.

In the absence of backlash, society is obviously, painfully, wholly saturated with reality TV, smart phones and text messenger monsters, a combination ripe for the killing of dull beasts who don’t even know they’re being led to the slaughter. Moo, bay, get down on all fours or squirm on your back like a worm – come what may, your day is today. Caw, freak out and neigh. Ironically, you’ll find communication devices failed us, because in this moment you’ll realize what it truly means to scream out, and that you’ve forgotten how to speak out, or even talk loud.

How many girls must I call before they answer the phone instead of waiting for it to stop ringing only to text me right back? Try to shoot out a sext to your boyfriend fighting in Afghanistan about how happy you are to be an American, so righteous, and proud. So Free.

The Moment of Truth

Just as I contemplated the thought of black military boots stamping the pretty face of a military wife into hamburger meat, there were five hard knocks at the door. I went to the window to see what’s up. I was stunned to find two police officers standing on my front porch, hands at their pistols. I could see their guns were still holstered but against their thumbs, the clasps were already unbuttoned.

No time to do much else, I thought, but answer the door as they were already yelling out my name and threatening to come in. Saying they can hear me moving and to prepare to have my door kicked in. I answer the pounding, tying my robe as quickly as possible but still accidentally giving them a rare glimpse of my full-frontal nudity. I can tell it makes them uncomfortable but maybe aroused and who knows? Closet fags, maybe? At this point, I can only hope.

Without explanation they demanded to search my apartment. I, in turn, demanded a search warrant.

“Your neighbors called, complaining about loud music and said they heard a woman scream. Do you guys smell marijuana?” he asked the other meatheads. They looked at him without saying anything, and then turned back to me. Their eyes went cold and automatic, looking through me and not at me, into my dwelling, prowling for visual probable cause. Without hesitation, the taller man forced my door open while the other two puffed out their chests and brushed right on past me, making a beeline for my coffee table where a bag of weed sat between two magazines, one Mad and one Adbusters, with a pack of rolling papers on top.

“James Galloway, you’re under arrest for possession and distribution of marijuana.”

Knowing anything I said would likely be used against me, I stood silently as they handcuffed me and searched through everything I owned. They methodically began to make a pile of bongs, pipes, empty baggies of seeds and even my ashtray of stems on the coffee table. One bald-headed fuck picked up a picture of the lady I once thought that I loved, a picture of her sitting on the hood of my truck, hands tucked in her legs, black hair in a knot, cute eyes and crows feet, looking so happy, pure, so hot and sexy in that black bikini and supple with the dark green shine of late summer in her soul; and he looked at me, then back down at her. Looked back at me, and put it in his pocket.

As I watched the remarkable scene, memories flooded in, of those cool times I got to chill out and listen to Jimi Hendrix wail on the guitar, as my friends played harmonica to it, playing the banjo and laughing, as videogames and laptops and the weed went around. Times of joy and freedom of the mind, body and soul. Freedom to be who we were, doing what we do, writing, joking, tripping out and loving the whole experience.

I remembered speeches by famous people whose names I forgot, how they sold people the idea of marijuana legalization – even if the whole country is for it, it still needs to be sold. Even if we’re all buying it, there’s a pitchman still pushing it. Look over there, at the man with a gavel who still says no because he’s got a gun to his back and his family’s at risk and his phone has been tapped by Pharmaceutical bastards who use Mafia tactics and make sure the President laughs when you ask him, “So can we legalize it yet?” And I looked again at the pigs, servants of the alcohol industry and corporate America as a whole. I pled guilty on the spot of having spent my money on weed instead of plastic shit from Wal-Mart. And I put out my hands, so they could cuff me, so I could rot.

I stared into the grass of my front yard, in front of my white brick apartment building, studying closely a patch of dirt and a select few grass blades. It was so small and so peaceful. Lawless and pure. Too tiny to delegate, too insignificant to police. I thought, “Mom, what is this? I need you here now.”

From the all-telling beyond non-existence of Death, she spoke to my inner subconsciousness. Take pity on them. Do not fear the NSA Supercomputer, she said. It can see you, hear you, it might even one day sense you. But it can not know you. Only you, and your lover can know James Galloway. And maybe no one, even perhaps only you, ever will.

But you shall always be free, my son. Forever, free.