Is this really what you want to do with your life?

Lost at sea lowres A3

Ill: «Lost at sea», A3, 2018, Moiret Allegiere

 

Is this really what you want to do with your life?

To live in a constant state of inner turmoil brought on by opinions whose very existence you deem inappropriate to the maximum and offensive to the extreme? To seek out ever new and ever fresh occassions of offense so that you are free to flaunt your virtue and to stand atop your hill of moral superiority in order for everyone within the immediate zone of your selfimposed social-media-madness to judge and consider you to be of the highest moral standing and highest moral standard; to wave the elusive banner of justice immaculate and immediate in front of marching brigades of hysterically screeching butthurt tater-tots? To be caught in a crossfire of ever increasing infringements on what people may say or do so as not to hurt anyones vapourcloud-feelings; to pour ever more gasoline on the evergrowing fires of discontent and then fan the flames with religious fervour, all in an attempt to be seen as the most upstanding, most moral, most chaste cloud of the collective?

Is this really what you want to do with your life?

To live in a selfinduced bubble of stress and maniac madness gathered from the cloudshare storage of your fellow moral crusaders for part-time truths and post-justice justice; to look over your shoulder constantly lest the mad brigades come for you as well in the trenches of this war of fragility which you fight?

You may believe that they won`t.

But they will.

Come time, they will.

They will seek you out like sharks smelling blood in the water the moment you say anything that goes contrary to one tenet or other of the holy church of offense-seekers and victim-warriors; always looking to get atop the highest vantagepoint of victim-mountain, to become – essentially – king or queen of the hill and don the papal hat of victim superior. Ave, Ave, Victimas. This selfinflicted paranoia-induced stress ain`t good for you, you know! Don`t you ever get tired of selfcensoring so as not to upset the anthill, so as not to paint a target on your back for the predatory beasts to sniff out in dramatic re-enactments of past lynch-mob seekers of post-truth mob justice? Are you not tired of these cult-like patterns of thought?

Is this really what you want to do with your life?

To never delve deeply into the depths of your convictions and think things through properly? To never measure the foundations of your beliefs against something other than what you have already decided is good and pure and proper and true? Don`t you ever feel like plunging deeply into the murky waters of ideas; the darkest, deepest depths of intellectual curiousity and challenge yourself through internal monologues turned internal dialogues with some other part of your soul, chained away in the basement begging to come to the forefront and ask you a few questions?

You know – some questions just to shine a light on some things. See where you really stand. What really matters. Is the prospect of the depths of your own intellectual capacity frightening to you? It must be simpler, plainer, easier to take the quick-and-easy route towards social acceptance by riding the wave and saying what others say, repeating chants and drones and mantras, superficially sounding reasonable and just and moral. It is all for the greater good. The superficial greater good. And that is just it: superficial. Callous. Immediate. A product of attentionspans left out in the woods to be ripped apart by wolves and bears. The quick one-upping brought on by immediate gratification. The instantaneous dopamineburst of instantaneous action; jumping on the bandwagon of whichever moral outrage is popular at the present moment, never for one single moment stopping to think if this is really worth it, if this is really something that warrants this level of moral outrage. Because thinking things through takes time, and time is of the essence lest the case-in-point disappear into the misty waters surrounding the island of immediacy and noone acted, noone got their dopamine-burst and thus their fix for the evening. Them withdrawals are such a bitch. Gotta keep on your toes. Gotta keep them shots coming; perpetual gratification-junkies – exceptionally addicted to feeling righteous flames fanned in the superficial rewardcenters of the reptilian mind.

Is this really what you want to do with your life?

To scream obscenities at those who did nothing but disagree with you? To attack their characters and their personhood, never once attacking their arguments? To never listen when someone is attempting to share their opinions and their views, instead waiting for them to stop talking – or yelling in their faces until they do – so that you can spew whatever ready-made and pre-assembled grunts of arguments you gathered from someone else, somewhere else in the undying cloudstorage of your fellow outrage-afficianados?

Riding the wave is a thrill and a bliss; all that woozy and wollen social approval gathered through likes and shares and comments galavanting your way, to tell you that you are such a good and decent person; so clean and uncorrupted and untouched by the foul fascists hiding behind every single deluminated keyboard, seeking to oppress and destroy your hivemind-virtue by asking a simple question or stating a simple fact which you have deemed, through no thought of your own, a non-fact.

It is so easy, so simple and so outstandingly powerful to dismiss someone immediately as a fascist, a nazi, a misogynist, a racist, a sexist, a transphobe, a whatever. To make them defend themselves instead of the argument. Such a cheap trick, and so effective if one is not expecting it.

Yet, you never stopped to think that these words have lost all meaning through their overuse. And you never stopped to think that these are the tactics of people with no depth behind their arguments and opinions; to attack the person making the argument instead of the argument itself. It proves nothing but your own inability to consider a different point of view; to question yourself and to ponder – deeply – what you consider absolute truth. Don`t you ever think that this madness will stop at one point or other; that the foundation of your movement – such as it is – is built on sand and mud, and that it will all slip away and come tumbling down in a incredible earshattering implosion of blood and hysteria?

Where there is only superficiality, there is no depth. And where there is no depth, there are no roots to seek nourishment to keep the goddamned thing alive. Your castles are crumbling. We can see it. We can see it through the constant infighting amongst your groups. We can see it through the everexpanding nonsense of your outrage. We can see it through your ever more blatant hypocrisy and doublestandards. We can see it through the steadily approaching turning of the tide. Some beliefs have depth. Some beliefs have roots that seek nourishment and find it. Others do not. Anything built on the immediacy of the event will not stand up to scrutiny. Your grapes are dying on the vines. The times, as they say, are a-changin`.

And why are you allergic to simple facts of life merely because they run counter to your beliefs and your feelings? That you feel something is untrue does not make it so. That you feel something is true does not make it so. Some facts are facts. And denying these facts because they make you feel bad is ignorance at best and absolute selfishness at worst. Reality does not have to bend and twist to conform to your personal feelings and beliefs. It is hard to imagine anything more vacuous and selfish than demanding reality itself change to suit your needs. Goddamnit, get a grip! Children think like this. Not grown-ass adults.

Is this really what you want to do with your life?

To fight a battle you will lose because you are constantly changing the goalposts so that noone will ever have the time or the ability to follow through with anything? To levvy ever more demands for protection and pampering in ways which I can best describe by refering to Helen Lovejoy of simpsons fame and her own moral outrage; manifested in seven simple yet effective words: «Won`t somebody please think of the children?!?»; screeched hysterical with no thought, no rhyme, no reason. Merely appealing to affect. Blind to anything else. This is exactly what you and your brigade of rampaging thugs are doing. Think of the children; think of these poor people with no voice of their own whom I, in my grandiosity and grandstanding, care and compassion have decided to speak on behalf of!

Of course, without considering that these poor oppressed people whom you dare speak on behalf of may not be in agreement with you, and may not even want you to speak on their behalf. Do you really believe yourself to be the voice of entire groups of people? Or do you perhaps consider these people so stupid, weak and feeble as to be unable to speak on their own behalf? Well – that speaks more about you than it does the ones you claim to protect.

Do you really want to be lost in a hodge-podge vacuumchamber, insulated against the outside world so that you never have to ask yourself simple questions such as: «Maybe I am wrong about this»?

Is this really what you want to do with your life?

Never consider, and always assume? To paint the ones who disagree with you with the broadest brushstrokes imaginable; painting them as haters of women, or racists, or nazis or whatever suits your needs at that particular moment. Dismiss as hatred that which you do not even care to consider. Simple and easy. Dehumanize and carry on. Disregarding what genuine concerns may be there in order to caress and rub the clitoris of your own sense of affective and superb morality. There is no easier way to win than to consider your opponent as less-than; as not worth consideration.

Do you really want to float adrift on a sea of hatred and bigotry throughout your life because you have decided, within your echochambers, that a certain segment of the population is composed entirely of people so privileged that their concerns and needs need not be met? That it is OK to hate and vilify, seek out and destroy, an entire segment of the population merely because you have deemed them less-than-human through decades of lies and slander, shaming and hate?

Or is it maybe so that you dare not gaze within yourself because you would then be bare to yourself, and all your hatred and all your selfish bigotry and dehumanizing rhetoric would stand naked in front of you and you would see yourself true and through and the incredible shame and the overwhelming sensation of your own abhorrent hatred would flood into you and fill you with regret and paralyzing shame so that you are left in a catatonic state of despair brought on by the ugliness of your soul?

Introspection ain`t pretty when one has blamed the outside world for ones own shortcomings all ones livelong life. It comes highly recommended, though. Try it, and you may soon come to realize the importance of thinking things through at great depth and at great lengths of time. Try it, and you may soon realize that insisting the world change to accomodate your evershifting needs is selfishness and not selflessness; that immediate gratification is a fleeting thing and that the things that last are things that are built across eternal rivers of time, externally as well as internally.

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They will not divide us

Sjølvmord lowres

 

«He will not divide us!», say the ones who aim to divide us; a movement stretching further than the grand ol` US of A. A global globular movement of closed minds incapable of asking questions, incapable of thinking inwards. Instead: projecting their insecurities outwards, blaming the rest of the world and demanding others change instead of them. Introspection dying at our feet. No reason to admit to fault within. All fault and every flaw lies with someone else, something else, somewhere else. Push the blame away.

«He will not divide us!», they chant in circles unbroken, solipsistic and so eternally conforming. Breaking the world into the pitter-patter of labels astronomical in their divisiveness. I identify as this and therefore am more or less priviliged than you, who identify as this and that. A fell swoop to break the structure, the very fabric of humanity itself into subcategories so absurdly small that the only conceivable end result is for them to eat themselves from within. The poison feast has begun. Ouroboros lost, Ouroboros reclaimed. Divine divisiveness.

There is a worm growing inside the monorail minds of this monotonous gibbering mass, a worm aiming to drool painted words of disconnect onto the canvas of the world. Words that, at first glance, sound enchanting and profound as all hell. Postmodern lingo to combat radical expressions of ideas. Wordsalads used to mask the nonsensical calamity of the ideas hidden within. Sure, it sounds intelligent, it sounds smart, to use larger-than-life words who`s true meaning is so simple, so translucent, as to be ridiculed were the worms able to convey honesty in the structure of their sentences. Don`t ever expect a clear answer from the worm. The worm will mask the inability to answer honestly as profundity behind a paywall of magnificently painted nonsense-words. Hey—nonny-nonny-hey, hey-nonny-nonny-no. Paint it as religious relevations of grandiose truth, and then use the grandiosity of religiousity to deny others their opinions. Pitter-patter of concern and offense. Feels equals reals, yo. What a humdinger, what a goldslinger, what a mad state-of-the-art-affair. Why are people listening to this nonsense? How come us domesticated primates are so willing to deny expression of ideas based on someones subjective sense of offense? Grow a thicker skin. Learn this: not everyone will agree with you. And that is quite allright. Understand this as well: the rules of speech which you fight to implement will be used against you as well. It is only a matter of the brilliant flow of time. Before we know head or tail of anything, we are confined to concrete cells within our own minds, unable to say anything lest we offend anyone. Good morning Worm, your honour, I have not been thinking wrongly all morning, thank you very much.

«He will not divide us!» Break the world into pieces instead. Divide the undivided, divide and multiply by negatives. Unity in nonsense. Free speech is hatespeech. Nonsense is now sense, new sense. Communication dies as conformity to closedmindedness grows. An open mind is able to entertain and ponder ideas which run contrary to ones preconceived notions and opinions. The mature mind is empathetic and open, able to view the world from different vantagepoints, and in so doing broadening its understanding of the world, with all its madness, hellfire and glory! Ideas meet and blend and grow on the battlefields. Ideas grow from external input. Or die on a hill from their lack of output, input or reason.

An inqusitive mind used to be a badge of honour. Now it has become a mark of deep shame! To question the current cultural zeitgeist requires the testicular fortitude of martyrs past, and brings the rampaging mobs of pitchfork-wielding maniacs all the way to ones doorstep. Tolerance of everything turns around and becomes tolerance of nothing. Except, of course, the ideas spouted by random wordgenerators in dimly lit halls of cranially deficient academia. Conform, submit, or die. It is the age of lackademia. Question nothing, lest you be deemed a heretic, lest you be exiled, lest you be cast from society: blasphemer, blasphemer, blasphemer!

It is these cynical tactics that are the most bothering. The appeals to affect, not to reason. Emotions become truth, and therefore the shaming, the blaming, the fully charged ad hominem arguments are considered righteous arguments. Claims to hold the moral highground is enough to turn the world against a predetermined enemy of predetermined lesser moral standing. Twisting and turning words. Twisting and turning meaning. Objective facts hurts subjective feelings, and are as such deemed untrue. Burn the witch. She turned me into a newt. Everyone is a fascist. And you have to point them all out, drive them away to the fanfare of drums and weird vocal ullulations. Get thee away, scapegoat. Away from me, Satan; tempt me not! Punch a nazi. Easy said, easy done, when everyone is named a nazi.

Here`s the scary part: appeals to emotions work. Claiming ones enemy to be of lesser moral standing is more than enough to justify whatever tactics needed to silence ones enemy. «All white people are racist» justifies racism against white people. «All men are mysogynistic» justifies misandry extreme. And so forth, and so on. Because it feels so fucking good to be in the right, that one does not need to stop and think and consider if one even is in the right. It feels so good, so good that – oh god – oh god – I wish this dopamine surge would never stop, so justified in anger, so justified in violence, so justified in complete and utter mindless fucking hatred. Let it keep coming, let it keep coming, flowing through the nervous system like a current of electricity straight into the brainpan, zap, zap, nervous energy accumulating, all that anger, all that rage, all that hatred, calling out from the bottom of the feet all the way to the top of the head, hairs rising on arms and body shaking, trembling, pulsating with justified glee and weird, peculiar sensations of JUSTICE untainted and profound and deeper than the deepest fucking deep. Oh, it should never stop, oh GOD, it should never stop, onwards to the next fight, the next victim, the next subsection of humanity to label and taint with shame for circumstances beyond their control. For mere random chance. Oh, the dividing, oh the oppressors, oh the poor oppressed. Find a new cause, find something else, find someway else to grab power, to grab the moral highground. Quick now, quick, before the dopaminesurge ends, before this incredible feeling of being holier than thou ends! Is it not wonderful, to have someone to hate? Is it not fantastic to have ones hate justified every step of the way by the strange strange strange notion that they, not you, are the hateful ones? DARVO, motherfuckers, DARVO! Remember: justice is subject to emotion, not justice. Subsections of subsections, labels upon labels, it beckons, it beckons, it is so simple, so pure, so radiant, so good, so good, so goddamned good that it can never stop, never stop, and then, and then, and then we turn it on ourselves, and then we turn on eachother instead. Cells eating cells. Clicks eating clicks. There must always be an enemy, always be something to fight. War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Click-clack, tick-tock, here we go, towards our daily hour of hate.

It is the rhetoric of war: They will hurt our women. They will hurt our children. They will oppress us. They will divide and conquer us. Their men are degenerates, lacking in the moral department. Stand together. Band together. Group together and leave your individual selves at the door. We are a mob now, a rampaging mob, the eternal monstrosity of the collective, the us vs them, the true and the truth alike, all found here in the mob of non-divisive divisiveness. The barbarians are right outside our walls, and they will ravage our daughters and torture our sons and burn our morals to the ground. They will not divide us. We can not let them. They must be stopped, by any means necessary. Our men must take them out. Gear up. Protect your women and your children. You are the good men. They are not. Kill them. Kill them all, before they kill us. Do you not love your women and children?

Shamed into compliance.

We have forgotten how to breathe.

And so, civil discourse dies choking on its own blood in some godforsaken ditch. The notion of debate and discussion and – as a result – cooperation falls prey to the machines of war. Meeting in the middle, both sides reaching a mutually beneficient compromise, becomes a thesis so abstract that the world will soon forget it. There is only one side. And that side is always in the right. Morally justified and pure as the driven snow. Because it feels right. Everyone and everything else is at fault. Feelings trumps facts. Ad hominems trumps reasoned debate. Bursts of anger instead of calm debate. Nonsense spat in our faces as we die. You uncultured swine. Our decay has begun. Paradise lost. Paradise regained. A boot stomping on a human face forever.