Auto-fantasy: we fuck ourselves. Women is a man’s projection onto a void (whether or not a man is likewise a woman’s projection onto a void doesn’t concern me at the moment, if at all, and why should soon be evident if not already.) Man—always alone, and properly so: stripped to dreaming. He lies on a bed, fantasizing, jerking off—or cock buried in a vagina, fucking nothing but imagination. Only a man knows what he desires. He constructs his desire-fulfilling machine to satisfy these desires but it is not a woman that satisfies these desires. Woman is a clumsy strategy for her own survival and survival of the species through the xerox of her genetic material and the captured genetic material of a chosen male. Woman is a dumb process at the beginning of an assembly line: baby, baby, baby, baby... (An obsolete machine). She mimicks the male desire-fullfilling machine, but she is not this male desire-fulfilling machine.

Internet communication: desire without bodies—man is able to create his desire fulfilling machine in realtime which is no time (Eternity, angelic-fuck). Man contructs his own desire-fulfilling machine, fleshless, without body, not stuck in space. Man free of time and space, free of woman. The tools at "hand", finally, to create the perfect desire-fulfilling machine (Angel). After 4 years cyber experimentation it’s conclusive: no one makes a better woman than a man. Woman, stripped of flesh--and the biological species xerox machine concealed inside—reveals herself as nullity, an awkward series of gestures, bad mimesis, only a tracing of the kind of machine that fulfills man’s desire. Her conviction that it is enough to simply "be," rather than "do," that only her simple animal-machine existence justifies her existence, makes her a virtual non-entity in a virtual world. The strategy of false-mystification is broken in binary. X-ray vision—seeing through the flesh, one sees the inner workings and the "workings" of woman are non-existent outside of a simple duplication machine. Woman is an emptiness—flesh spread on super-specialized plumbing.

Fake girls: transexuals, transgendered machines, cyberchicks, cyborgs, dolls, man-ekins. The immanance of man’s first fully functional desire-fullfilling machines: total sex, zero conception—anti-biology, anti-septic, anti-human. Solo-erotic. It’s now possible to break the pussy barrier: to free oneself of the yin-yang gravitational field. The revelation that breaks a man’s self-hypnotic biological dependence-gaze on women, on the vampirism that drains the imaginative and seminal fuels necessary for blast-off (angelic fuck, penetration of impossible, aperture, laceration, opening of unisexual cosmic cunt), beyond the conventional, the economic, all the caveman survival strategies: the evolutionary leap to a different level, spark—vistas, visions, mutations, assemblages, collisions. Woman is not only an obsolete machine. Woman is a non-existent machine. There is no such thing as woman. Man has fictionalized woman out of his own desire. Man=Woman. Man doesn’t just contain, project the feminine. He is the feminine. The bioform, flesh-machine, cellular engine known as woman is no longer a necessity—or a desireability—as reproduction is no longer necessary or desirable. (Extinction/orgasm) The well-guarded secret. Man, awakening, from blindness, dazzlement, enslavement, somnolence, alimony, palimony, child-support, life-support—the survival stupidities employed by non-existent obsolete machines. Woman as black hole, constant drain, trickle-down-economy-waste. (Woman obsolete even in her non-existence/non-existent in her obsolecence). The end of pro-Creation. Flash future: These machines stand empty, isolated, out of fuel on barren fields. Useless, abandoned, unable to fix themselves. (Rubber, glue, silicon, surgical staples: the plastic surgeons abandon the project) These machines invented and once fueled by men’s dreams. Serviced by men, loved by men, worshipped by men: Ruins. Indecipherable crude technologies unrecognized by what follows. Afterhuman.