• The Machinery of Violence

    The Machine is hungry. Republican hands reach for the Big Red Button—no hesitation, no pause, just the itch, the primal need to blow something to dust. Preferably brown, preferably Other, preferably something distant enough to forget but close enough to feel the shockwave. Boom, boom, boom. A symphony of obliteration. Brown bodies turned to statistics,…

  • Intersectional Racism

    When he does it, it’s the old-time religion, the serpent’s tongue forked and hissing in the jungle night. Bad blood, pure and simple. A virus in the bloodstream, a tumor on the soul. But when we do it, it’s a quantum leap, a fractal unfolding of consciousness. Intersectionality, they call it, a buzzword for the new age witch doctor, a mantra for the chemically lobotomized masses. When they…

  • Middle East as Event Horizon

    The Middle East: Crucible of Eschatology The arid sands of the Middle East have long served as a metaphysical desert, a barren expanse where the world’s most potent eschatologies converge and collide. It is a region where prophecy and politics intertwine, where the divine and the mundane clash in a perpetual struggle for dominance. From the Islamic vision of…

  • Eschatologies are Existential dissociations.

    Eschatologies are the junkie’s nod to nothingness, a cosmic cut-out, a freefall from the self into the sterile white light of oblivion. They’re the ultimate comedown, the final fix without a rush, the terminal buzz that leaves you cold and alone in the infinite waiting room. Eschatologies, those terminal dreams of a world unwound, are…

  • The Baron Commissar

    The Baron Commissar, his face a map of scars etched by shadows of power and betrayal, leaned in, eyes burning through the young officer. The room, a dank subterranean abyss, was lit by the flicker of a single, bare bulb, casting obscene, writhing shadows on the walls. “You see, my young acolyte,” the Baron intoned,…

  • Democrats and Tech

    In the grand theater of American politics, the Democrats are finding themselves abandoned by their once loyal tech-supporting audience. Picture this: the shimmering beaches of Venice, California, where the promise of a crypto revolution was supposed to bring prosperity. Instead, it’s a ghost town of missed opportunities and empty storefronts. Abbot Kinney, that iconic stretch…

  • “Prometheus Winked”

    Ayn Rand, in her manic, Nietzschean fever dream, concocts a fable of the market as Olympus. Prometheus, a proto-capitalist titan, is no selfless savior but a cunning speculator. He filches fire, not for mankind’s enlightenment, but to corner the warmth market. As the world shivers in a neo-liberal ice age, our hero basks in a…

  • Monstrous Offspring

    The machine, our monstrous offspring, spews forth its digital detritus, a toxic sludge of ones and zeros. We are drowning in data, a deluge of information that leaves us intellectually constipated. We’ve traded the mystery of the unknown for the certainty of the superficial, a world flattened into a screen, a universe reduced to clickable icons. The machine promises enlightenment, but delivers only a…

  • Mason & Dixon

    The flickering neon of a roadside diner cast a sickly green glow on Mason’s face. The Pennsylvania night crawled with static. Fireflies blinked like short circuits in the swamp, and the air thrummed with unseen frequencies.  He tapped a manicured nail against the chipped Formica, the rhythm echoing the digital thrumming in his pocket – a bootleg newsfeed pulsing…

  • EXIT

    Flickering reality screen, a million flickering faces – The World Theater. Neon promises crawl across the marquee, a carnival shill barking come-ons for dreams pre-packaged in cellophane. But the exit, man, the EXIT – a rusted fire escape,barely two rungs wide, wobbling precariously over an abyss of black noise. The sucker, see? Blinded by the glitter, mesmerized by the spectacle. Counts the plush seats, the depth of…

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