Are you afraid of the pile? Do your knees tremble when you think about it? Do you get hard, (if male) or wet, (if female). The pile is life, the pile is us, the pile is where you want to be. A thousand rhythmic bodies grinding in sexual ecstasy. The pile calls to you.

Are you listening?

The fascist fears the pile, its warmth, its penetrating power. He covers his butt hole nervously. His fascism is the insistence that he must always be the one to penetrate, and never be penetrated. Of course as a male it is his destiny to be the penetrator most of the time anyway, but he resists even the occasional bumping of someone else's junk against his body. Even a brush of another mans cock walking past scares him.

When all races blend into one there is the pile. When your Asian gf calls you to her tight pussy the pile is there. When you conform and have normie opinions the pile is wining. The pile is life, conformity, happiness, agreement — it is temptation itself. The pile is wet and sweaty, dirty and smelly. When you play in the mud that is pile. When you stand in a river the pile has you. When you don't bathe and don't care you are in the midst of pile. When you are popular you are the pile. When you live in a tiny house and smoke weed all day and hang out with dirty hippie girls and get laid you are living the pile life.

Each of us has 2 parents, 4 grandparents, 8 great grandparents, 16 great-great grandparents, and 1,048,576, 17-times great-great grandparents. That's right: over a million people fucked so you could exist. Wrap your mind around that. You a a drop in an ocean of protoplasm, a small piece of a massive pile. The pile made you and you owe it, and that is why there can be no exit. Look man, the only exit is biological. If you can't separate your protoplasm from the pile of all humanity, if you initiate a speciation event, then you are bound to its fate. To exit is to betray your pile.