The Zen of Hate is a cry for help.

It is the lonely, last gasp of breath of dying manhood, the end of the line for all the good souls that are marginalized daily by the corrupt sensibilities of a decadent society gone mad.

We propose that what was good and proper and dear to both gods and men has been abandoned in a senseless, inadequacy-driven rush to abolish all differences between rich and poor, smart and stupid, beautiful and ugly.

In cultures the world over the new standard, the new regrettable state of being, is one of abandonment to the worst instincts of mankind. Strangers sit and share intimate details of their most humiliating moments, uncaring of the innocent bystanders who could not care less. Crying is considered a healthy reaction to everything from the death of a dear one to spilling milk, and those who refuse to engage in public displays of weakness are considered ticking timebombs from a long gone era.

Homosexuals are dressing up straight men, lesbians teach how to be assertive, and the media have become a window on a world that Hell itself would not touch, even with thick gloves on.

The Zen of Hate stands for the pure beauty of knowing you're right, and that everyone else around you is just plain wrong. It is the sweet abandon to the power of the storm in the face of the foppish ways demanded by the new gods of oversharing and therapeutic crying.

We reserve the right to be contrary, to be angry, to stand our ground and shave nothing on our bodies, regardless of how reasonably we're asked. We believe that the rant is a perfectly acceptable means of communication, and that if you can't take the heat, then you should have kept your mouth shut.

The Zen of Hate is liberation, the purest calm in a storm of your own doing, the savage joy of never holding back your fury in the face of the oncoming sludge. Amen.