Category: Non Fiction
-
The Centrist Charade
Dig beneath the surface of history, man, and you’ll find the stench of power clinging to everything. Marxist cats, always sniffing for class struggle, point their fingers at the center as the ultimate enabler – the guys greasing the skids for the real heavies. This ain’t a one-act play, though; this pattern stretches back centuries, a tangled web woven by supposed moderates who…
-
Dubbing Actors
Spanish Politicians Sound Like Dubbing Actors In this hyperreal political landscape, Spanish politicians reach for the ghosts of Hollywood actors, not the grounded reality of their constituents. Their voices become simulacra of charisma, a hollow echo of a manufactured ideal. This isn’t about embodying the gravitas of a statesman; it’s about mimicking the seductive power…
-
War Larp
Armies prepare to fight the last Hollywood larp, rather than their next anti war indie. War is the continuation of delusion by other means. Our garish parade of grunts rehearses for their next technicolor Götterdämmerung, a glorious clash of CGI battalions against a backdrop of pixilated deserts. Their maneuvers, choreographed by generals hopped up on John Wayne matinees,resemble…
-
Ego As Control Panel
The ego, that greasy control panel strapped to your meat chassis, craves one thing above all else: validation of its own rickety self-image. It doesn’t matter if this image is a flickering neon sign in a bugfuck nowhere town, advertising a product long since discontinued. No, the ego insists it’s a holographic billboard in Times…
-
The Stain of the Watcher
Every son of Adam, every daughter of Eve, carries the stain of the watcher. We are all, like it or not, the children of those who stood by, the inheritors of stolen land and broken lives. Our bloodlines, if traced back far enough, will snake through tangled histories of dominance and displacement. There were grandfathers…
-
It’s all Subjunctive
Oedipoid and vast, the world swam in a subjunctive sea. Every action, a ripple in the pond of potentiality. Was it rain that fell, or merely the memory of rain, a phantom echo from some parallel dimension where skies wept? Perhaps it never rained at all, and the damp chill was a collective delusion, a…
-
Personalized Pricing
In the labyrinthine realm of blockchain, where transactions shimmer with the illusory sheen of transparency, one finds a most curious paradox. Here, amidst the byzantine tangle of code and cryptography, the veil of clarity parts only to reveal an even deeper obfuscation. The very algorithms that dictate the price you pay, those inscrutable arbiters of personalized economics, remain shrouded in a fog thicker…
-
Crypto-Punks
The market a sprawl of tangled circuits, a Burroughs cut-up of rebellion sold in sterile packets. Punks? More like Sid Vicious repackaged, sneer freeze-dried, safety-pinned to a blockchain. Where’s the snarling chaos, the feedback shrieks? All synthesized, a commodified angst echoing hollow in the neon canyons of cyberspace.They brandish pixelated avatars, these so-called “CryptoPunks,” screaming their…
-
Pandora’s Box
The Real, a buzzing, chaotic id beneath the surface of existence, pulsed against the thin veneer of the Symbolic – the realm of language, a flimsy net cast over the roiling unconscious. Pandora, that curious soul, a pawn in some cosmic prank, became an archetype for the doomed yearning to pierce the veil, to glimpse…