by Mailbomb Solution

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released July 26, 2012



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Compulsion Rites Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Uncomfortable sounds.

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Track Name: Manifest Excerpt: A Disaster For The Human Race

1. The Industrial Revolution and its consequences have been a disaster for the human race. They have greatly increased the life-expectancy of those of us who live in "advanced" countries, but they have destabilized society, have made life unfulfilling, have subjected human beings to indignities, have led to widespread psychological suffering (in the Third World to physical suffering as well) and have inflicted severe damage on the natural world. The continued development of technology will worsen the situation. It will certainly subject human beings to greater indignities and inflict greater damage on the natural world, it will probably lead to greater social disruption and psychological suffering, and it may lead to increased physical suffering even in "advanced" countries.
Track Name: Cowards

I'm sick of these fucking cowards. Feigning dedication to a cause while the planet turns to shit. Clouded by self-hating, oversocialized Leftist psychology. Impotent children, standing in the way of revolutionary destruction of Industrial Society. I'm not going to win them over. I don't want to win them over. I want to destroy everything they hold dear. I want their bodies to litter the highways leading out of their little rats' nests of culture. Too many people hanging on to the god damn life raft, and I'm here to start cutting off hands…
Track Name: Manifesto Excerpt: Technological Addiction

203. Imagine an alcoholic sitting with a barrel of wine in front of him. Suppose he starts saying to himself, "Wine isn't bad for you if used in moderation. Why, they say small amounts of wine are even good for you! It won't do me any harm if I take just one little drink..." Well you know what is going to happen. Never forget that the human race with technology is just like an alcoholic with a barrel of wine.
Track Name: Manifesto Excerpt: Take The Consequences

178. Whatever else may be the case, it is certain that technology is creating for human begins a new physical and social environment radically different from the spectrum of environments to which natural selection has adapted the human race physically and psychological. If man is not adjust to this new environment by being artificially re-engineered, then he will be adapted to it through a long an painful process of natural selection. The former is far more likely that the latter.

179. It would be better to dump the whole stinking system and take the consequences.
Track Name: Letter To David

Hello David,
Remember me, david? Its your big brother Teddy John, David. You know, the one you sold out to the FBI? Its been so nice receive your monthly letters, David. But it would've been so much nicer if you hadn't sent me up the river, David. But that's how it's always been, David. Remember firing me at the factory, David? Once a pig, always a pig. You betrayed blood, David. You have no honor, David. And i heard you're friends with Wright now, David. What a coward you are, David. You thought you could remain anonymous, David? Then you thought you could make amends, David. But I'm writing to tell you you'll never have it, David. You'll never have peace, David. You better watch where you sleep, David. I wasn't alone, David. And a snitch gets what a snitch deserves, David…
Track Name: Without An Answer

Scapegoated, crucified, incarcerated and dismissed, but the questions still linger for those who paid real attention. Was I the Unabomber? Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn't. Did I really orchestrate those attacks? May I did. Maybe I didn't. Seems a little bit much for one man, doesn't it? Yet here I am. Perhaps that's how this story ends, with me in this cell. Perhaps the bombings will start again, with me in this cell. Perhaps this time they won't know who to look for, with me in this cell. Perhaps this time F.C. will win, with me in this cell. Perhaps you'll all die without an answer, with me in this cell.
Track Name: Sedecim

Sixteen strikes were leveled against the technogogues. Shrapnel punctured guilty hearts. fingers fell from bloodstained hands. Sixteen strikes were leveled against their abbatoir. The program of unrelenting callousness was turned against its architects. Sixteen strikes only heralded the coming feral terror. Now everything you have ever held dear will be erased as the Industrial Eschaton is unleashed. Gridcrash cloaks the hordes of Ludd as darkness swallows their cities.