Feedism - Blog Posts

She is perfect shaped right now. But not for long.

It's all about the the 📐!

Can you see my ribs still?

The Twelfth Sermon

Harken well unto me, my Children of Abundance, and I will tell thee the Way of the Feeder…

I step with thee into the Casino of Life and approach the games. I take the dice into my hands. I look upon the tableau and see the squares of victory with their prizes. I shake the dice, knowing that the victories earned are not what matter. The zest of life is the rattle of dice.

The croupier asks, "Mr. High Priest, how much would you like to bet on the throw of the dice?" I look at my dice. They are Talent, Dreams, and Focus. I look at my chips, one color representing my material possessions, another representing my societal connections, and still another representing my most precious commodity: time.

I tell the croupier: "Put it all on the table." The croupier looks alarmed. "But Mr. High Priest, you may lose all your property, your society, and your time, and thus your life in the pursuit of your Will to Power! Are you willing to bet all of that on your Talent, your Dreams, and your Focus?" Everyone in the Casino looks at me now. Very few gamblers in the Casino of Life truly move all in.

Laughing heartily at the croupier, I roll the bones and declare to the masses of spectators: "The greatest risk in life is not to risk it all!"

So it is with you, O my Children. You may be the greediest, most ravenous, most gluttonous and lustful of them all, but you will never win all you desire unless you embrace the glory of risk.

“But High Priest", I hear you say, "what if I lose?" I say unto you: You cannot lose! Everyone wants to define your life, to shape or to their ends. Take hold of your life, and you win no matter the actual outcome. It is not the victory which defines you; it is the fight. Every time you struggle against the spirit of entropy and gravity, you win. 

I say unto you: Paradise, spoken slowly, is literally a pair of dice. Gamble what you have, for if you bury your talent and dreams, you will be deemed an unworthy servant and thereafter doomed to a life lived in ennui and quiet desperation. 

If your situation seems impossible and all odds seem against thee, do not bet against thyself. Just remember, opportunities are brilliantly disguised as impossible situations.

Go in peace and with pieces of cake. In the name of the Fatter, and the Fun, and the Holy Brosnan. Amen.

The Ninth Sermon

Harken well unto me, my Children of Abundance, and I will tell thee the Way of the Feeder…

There is a worm in each of us, but also a god. This is the fundamental struggle in the soul of modern man: God Versus Worm, Worm Versus God.

I have been a god. I have stood in the rain naked and felt such vitality coursing through my body that I could hardly bear it. Thunder rumbled, lightning lit the sky, and I believed that the lightning flashed only for me. I cannot describe the feeling of Power that coursed through every superstring of my superbeing. "This is what it's like to be alive", I thought: "This is what it's like to be filled with the spirit of life."

I have also been a worm. I have felt such hopelessness and sadness as to wrap myself in a cocoon, submitted my consciousness and my independent judgment before that of others who did not deserve me, and inevitably led to only misery for myself. "Fuck it", I thought: "Let the spider eat me. It's so much more comfortable in the womb of death."

I, like all of you, am hungry. Desperately, eternally hungry. I hunger for life like the lion hungers for its food; my ambition is such that the universe itself will not satisfy me. Orbis Non Suficit. This hunger is almost unbearable; it threatens to break me under the weight of its demands and to incinerate me in the flames of its passion. During those times I finally solve an unsolveable problem after days of tortuous effort, or those times when I flex my lats so hard I feel as though my ribcage might shatter, I understand what it is like to be a tiger in a zoo. 

I say, open all the zoos and let the beasts roam free, so that mankind may relearn truly motivating fear. Not that timid fear that infests the masses, that quiet desperation, that apathetic malaise, that uncertainty of action which characterizes the worm. I speak of real fear that you can taste, the kind that makes your eyes jitter and your mouth go dry, the kind that smells like the moment before lightning strikes. I speak of the fear that necessitates immediate action and courage in the face of destruction. I speak of the fear of a god.

On days, frequently infrequent, when it feels as though the worm might overtake me, I remind myself that I am not meant for the worm; I am meant for godhood. The higher man will overtake me, and my soul will give birth to a dancing star. There is chaos in the heavens; at any moment I could be struck by lightning and go out in a blaze of glory. It is my solemn duty to blaze back into the heavens, to leash the lightning and make it mine, to fuck a hole in the universe.

I am a priest to a dying religion; the god I worship is Arete, the spirit of excellence. I am an unapologetic elitist who worships the spirit of excellence, because I worship the god in myself and despise the worm in myself. Mine is a mad faith, the kind of conviction that made Alexander believe he was the son of Zeus. I believe in the higher man, and I pray that the higher man will win in you too.

I believe in you. I believe in your strength. I believe your strength is just beginning, still growing, still climbing toward the heights. I exhort you to pursue your dreams, to keep your eyes wide and joyous, to keep your childlike wonder and overabundant eagerness alive as you partake in the buffet of the universe. Feel the strength and beauty of which your body is capable. Learn what it feels like to stare into the eyes of a beautiful woman. Embrace the sensation of pressing the accelerator to the floor and not caring if your vehicle flies off the road and you hurtle headfirst into the void; no matter what, you will always have a nice view.

Go in peace and with pieces of cake. In the name of the Fatter, and the Fun, and the Holy Brosnan. Amen.

The Eighth Sermon

Harken well unto me, my Children of Abundance, and I will tell thee the Way of the Feeder…

For too long, mankind has externalized its highest values and ideals of perfection into the cosmos. It is time, O Children of Abundance, for the individual to realize himself as the creator of these values, and thus capable of forging his own meaning and embodying his own justification, rather than remaining dependent on external institutions and creeds.

Fear not thy own judgment just because you are not omniscent. Blind faith will not grant thee omniscence, nor is such a state desirable in and of itself, for it represents a cessation for the quest for truth, and permission to kill one's own precious childlike curiosity. I call myself the high priest of a church, but in truth I bear no desire to maintain dogmas or to condemn the passions of the flesh as a church is prone to do. An attack on the roots of passion means an attack on the roots of life; the practice of a church is hostile to life, and I have no desire to condemn any feedist worthy of the name.

No fanatic speaks to you here; no faith is demanded of thee. If these sermons be compiled into a bible, let the book be shredded and its maxims held up to the light of thine own independent reason. I speak to those who have ears for my words, and who have the courage and the will to contemplate them.

I teach you the deification of thyself, the spiritualization of thy cravings, the beautification of thy passions, the reverence for thine own spirit. Only such noble souls are worthy of partaking in the feast of this world without guilt, without fear, without hesitation.

The Way of the Feeder is the Way of the World. It is the manifestation of the primordial drive to reinstitute the yearning for greatness and true opulence which, stripped of the sacred and the profane, is becoming increasingly inhopsitable to it. Your life and your happiness is too precious to surrender without a fight; go forth today and indulge! 

Go in peace and with pieces of cake. In the name of the Fatter, and the Fun, and the Holy Brosnan. Amen.

The Seventh Sermon

Harken well unto me, my Children of Abundance, and I will tell thee the Way of the Feeder…

I have already evangelized to you of the Church of Feedism several times without the necessity of pointing to a physical building called a 'church'. There is no cathedral, no dusty masoleum requiring worship. There is a place far more worthy of your reverence and honor: thy own body. Your body is a temple, and yours is Your Church, your holy shrine, your declaration of your commitment to a life of hedonic bliss. Display your favorite soul foods everywhere your body can expand, as a testament to the richness and flavor of your soul!

In Beyond Good and Evil, Nietzsche wrote: "Anything which is a living thing and not a dying body will have to be an incarnate will to power, it will strive to grow, spread, seize, become predominant -- not from any morality or immorality but because it is living and because life simply is Will to Power. " The Will to Power is the energy that drives all life, the desire within every living being to acquire and exercise power, power to enforce one's own will and advance one's own position on and within the universe.

In the hands of the Feeder, this philosophy is directed toward the expansion of one's self or one's partner outward and upward and in all other dimensions, via the overabundance of food, converted to the overabundance of Obesity. It is worship of the overabundance of life, because it is the worship of the self. To us, the Will to Power is the Will to More.

So it is with you, my Children. We must move forward, always forward, because forward is the only direction in front of us, and the only place we can go. Eat, drink, and be merry, and let your taste buds be your guide.

The path towards omnipresence and enlightenment is not a leisurely stroll, O my flock. It is fraught with challenge, for you are surrounded on all sides by those who preach abstinence and temperance. The masses will shame you, they will question you, they will threaten you, and they will attempt to scare you into changing your ways. You have chosen a life of happiness, one free from the shackles which imprison the average person. You are of the world and competent within it, but you are not ruled by it. This frightens the infidel; give him reason to be frightened. 

The Way of the Feeder cannot die, for it is the way of Man. It is the Will to Power, to Life Incarnate. Celebrate, O my flock! For yours is the heart of things, and the meaning, and the glory. 

I beseech you, my Children of Abundance, do not lose heart in the face of the world. You are the heirs and heiresses of a world made of raw material to shape to your liking for your consumption, your amusement, and your desire -- if you can prove yourselves worthy of it. Hold your heads high and your chins thrust upward! In the name of all that is orgasmic and holy, do not surrender the hero in your soul! Achieve greatness! Live deliciously! Gorgeousness and gorgeosity to you all! 

Go in peace and with pieces of cake. In the name of the Fatter, and the Fun, and the Holy Brosnan. Amen.

The Fifth Sermon

Harken well unto me, my Children of Abundance, and I will tell thee the Way of the Feeder…

My flock, my following of devoted acolytes, yours is not to work or to labor. Thou art born for games. Nothing else. Every child knows that play is nobler than work. Games are the microcosm of war, and war is god. Compete for every calorie, for all resources belong to those who take them by force. You are all royals in training. Stand up straight, as is fitting of one of your stature. Consume, gorge, and smile.

Fear not the moral shackles which attempt to slim you down to their pitiful weight class. Such humiliation is for the masses, whose lot is to make possible your lives of decadent pleasure and abundance. Very useful are they, for fixing and maintaining your palaces, for Doordashing your feasts, for filling the factories, for cultivating the fields. Thou art under no obligation to obey anything or anybody. It is only the masses of common people who must bow to such cheap mental thralls, for fear of breaking so-called moral principles. All moral principles, therefore, are the tools, not the masters, of the strong. Power made moral codes, and power enforces them.

Therefore I beseech you, above all else, seek Power. Thou requirest more and better food? Seek Power. Thou seekest comfort and luxury and beauty and material wealth and spiritual enlightenment for the remainder of your days? Seek Power. Is the world your oyster and all that is left for you to do is to prove it? Seek Power.

For every goal you reach, let yourself be dissastified with its accomplishment. Set for yourself higher and nobler goals; consume more and still more; grow larger and still more larger, until all that exists is you. I know you all, my devoted flock, better than you care to know yourselves. There is no point at which the cycle of greedy consumption and acquistion and indulgence ceases to turn, unless that cycle is itself the goal. Attain your goals, and attain the power to reach new ones. That is the Way of the Feeder.

Blessed are the greedy, for they shall inherit the world. Cursed are the temperate, for they shall content themselves with crumbs.

Blessed are the gluttonous, for they shall be full and content for an hour. Cursed are the self-restrained, for they shall be hungry for a lifetime.

Blessed are the obese, for their beauty and allure is beyond doubt. Cursed are the skeletal, for they will be passed over for juicier fare.

Blessed are the slothful, for they have accepted their fate. Cursed are the early birds, for their fear of the uncertain future rules their experience of the present moment.

Blessed are the voluputaries, for they shall obtain great treasure. Cursed are the believers in good and evil, for they are frightened by shadows.

Blessed are the death-defiant, for their days will be long and full. Cursed are those who fear life, for they shall perish amidst plenty.

Blessed is he who makes enemies of dieticians and doctors, for they shall make him a hero. Cursed is he who captiulates to their will, for they have not your best interests at heart.

Blessed are you all, for you are all Children of Abundance. Blessed be this world, for it is your cornucopia.

Go in peace and with pieces of cake. In the name of the Fatter, and the Fun, and the Holy Brosnan. Amen.

I Have Returned

Behold! I have returned to you all, my Children of Abundance, to re-establish my church! Follow me, and obtain everlasting yummies. In the name of the Fatter, and the Fun, and the Holy Brosnan. Amen.