Wednesday, December 26, 2007

No More Tears: A Clench for Nought

The act of projecting present-day socio-nihilistic observations onto possible future time arcs is a lazy luxury that foregoes constructive solutions in favour of hand-wringing ‘what-ifs’ ... according worry-warts the hollow burden of chasing down phantasms, that, when squeezed, don’t amount to squirt.

Colonel Taylor, you are not there. You are here. You are not then. You are now. Deal.

POSTSCRIPT: Perhaps our protagonist’s negative societal outlook is the result of a deep-seated (deep-seeded?) clash between his ego and superego Gestalt modules. After all, who would name their spaceship the Icarus? Wouldn’t that be like naming your boat the Titanic?

Friday, December 14, 2007

The Spirit of Uncle Auntie

The Hefty bag makeshift shotgun window flaps madly at 95dB as Uncle Auntie smirks from the ceiling of the rusty VW.

The freaky krewe toodles in Leisurely Industrial style along I-10 towards the Vieux Carré.

Arm in arm on Rue Dauphine, sung to the tune of “Nanny Nanny BooBoo,” the mantra is quantised:

“Nous sommes crannie de mamie”

Monday, December 10, 2007

Clever Phrases, Realpolitik and the Spin of a Coin

In their impotent rage, sophomore activists, hoary gender warriors, armchair academics and other political dilettantes froth at the mouth at images of presidents, media bloviators, “The Man,” and other icons in the mould of Emmanuel Goldstein.

One pretense of speaking out against the undue oppression in the West is the mantra, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Sounds heavy, but unfortunately, this “Protest Logic” makes about as much sense as persuasion by puppetry. In effect, it makes one “friends” with barbarians. Is that the intent? Rebellious nihilism? Or maybe some people just don't think their clichés all the way through.

Perhaps they should heed the notable policies of the Mendez Dynasty. Beset by hostile neighbours, an environmental cataclysm and a population badly in need of gene therapy, the House of Mendez practise a unique form of realpolitik. In the words of Ongaro, High Counselor to Mendez XXVI, “We don’t kill our enemies. We get our enemies to kill each other.”
Indeed, an admirable tactic in the psionic arts (much like pungeoning itself), but the greater import is to see this not as just a tactic, but as a broader strategic Weltanschauung. Machiavellian perhaps, but a strategery that is more likely to ensure self-preservation than would street puppetry and sit-downs with terrorists. In the end, the Mendez Dynasty ultimately seeks Godhead while our protesters merely invoke fatuous moral palaver and stale clichés. What could they possibly learn? One’s mantra clashes with the other’s tantra.
So it’s probably a good thing Johnny Protester ignores history, whether past, present or future.
One final caveat must be made: As Keepers of the Divine Bomb, the House of Mendez is essentially practising a de facto programme of Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD).
Are we simply seeing both sides of that old cold coin of nihilism?