a necessary universal category?

"The term division of labour is a descriptive category belonging to a specifically expropriative and reductive method of looking at the world (a vorstellungsart or pre-patterning of knowledge). It has become a conceptual filtering device deployed as a means for extracting other pieces of information: where the filter ‘division of labour’ is applied to the relation within a particular set of objects, the patterning of both the relation and the means of knowing of the relation is thereby ‘templated’ and this enables the extraction a certain type of information concerning an interrelated specialisation and differentiation from those objects.

...Division of labour becomes yet another invisible term, another immovable piece of furniture amongst so many similar others, that has to be included in every inventory of the human home. This nonnegotiable furniture clutters up and inhibits the discourse of social transformation. To alter Zizek’s comment on freedom: we cannot articulate a critique of our world because we lack the very language to articulate our alienation from it. The language of social transformation has become silted up with bourgeois categories imported into it by the pragmatist ideologies..."

– For different men take joy in different works

Where the seeker after possibility is considered inconceivable, or minimally "romantic", then what I'd call a "possibilist" chases the "impossible" in any other language, and the fantasist (some would call "fanatic" or "futile") is the only real realist when saying "nature doesn't work that way; nothing is that certain". As both empiricism and reason eventually lead to irony (especially when juxtaposed together – that is "comedy", if you'll recall George Carlin), the absurdist becomes the most faithfully consistent, all the while a nihilist without a claim to truth (that doesn't mean a lie). Where madness is the most profound sanity, the only way out is in, and that is an aesthetic move – no doubt often we're pushed, but it's our choice to call it "home" and proceed to rearrange the furniture or cast it out the door for a public barbecue (where folks are not consumed or even on the menu).

Where every individual pursues its own interest, society can then be said to be an expression of interest without a contradiction – it only looks like an agreement, there never was a vote or conciliation – and everything remains experimental, except perhaps the wheel. Where there is at least some interest in each other, then the individual and social soon merge (but really they evaporate – isn't it the endearing which endures? Some say just the opposite: a chain, a weight, the state). What is uninteresting simply does not occur (that the population is flexible, movement's not constrained), and the division of labour disappears because labour itself has gone missing even where there's effort. Some would theorise the population itself would vanish in a battle, but that is a half-empty consideration, and as far as the cup is concerned, meaningless ... unless of course, pragmatic playfulness or good ends unanticipated by any means, are also an impossibility in a mad world. But then the world itself would disappear, and so it's starting to appear beneath the superficial varnish. We might rephrase the question, "who's on top, air or water?" but does it really matter except to gravity, the 'love' of an earth mother? Otherwise the argument's between something and nothing. Up in Iceland's always down if you're from southern Africa. A top is just the middle of a spinning gyroscope.

Of course, when pessimism only expresses doubt toward the success of a particular project or aim or a direction (they say "it's possible but I wouldn't count on it"), that expression could be the most favoured thing toward pushing possibility forward: "perhaps we'll try this time, reverse instead." But they're calculating probability confusing that with truth and then get nasty: everyone has witnessed flukes and know that they can happen – that's the beauty never seen by the omniscient – occasionally there are even breaks from prison, and none would dare to call them "hippy drop outs".

If only peoples' other interests were treated like a favorite color, or a type of apple of one's eye without a moral attachment, interference or even too much thought about it. Like the appropriate color is the one which suits you (that is, you put it on not under orders), even if it's new like taste in need of growing, that's for you to know or find out. The egoist only says "my choice is not your business" unless invited or have a wish to try it. And in this sense it's true: it's sharing which makes a communist in old Eutopia, and battle's for those stingy kunts who try to knock you off your feet to stay in line, insisting you be democrat or take your shit without a "by your leave" or any other consideration.

Even in Eutopia property and its acquisition is possible, but where's the fun unless it's shared and then that universal category, proper disappears, unless you're all alone and so malnourished, but then who is there to say "who cares?" And then you're finished. There's never been a society of hermits in a cave. That would be a monastery or house of monetary slaves counting on miracle inventions and saving up their days for someone else's spending, and then repeating "I was framed!"

The Free-Trade Association in Old Eutopia

Not to imply a history, we're only talking myth-time, but before the fifteen fifties, trade was an association with "where one was seen" or want to tread or travel, from the notion of a way or manner of life, when that meant "to motivate", not "strife". Like thrift was just an image of things when thriving, not like "striving". Before the tit or tat exchange there was the occupation, and that was just tradition, not in means appropriation.

A trade route (double positive) was the path partaken and on some more examination, seen to be repeated or worn smooth but with good reason, if only timely season or a pleasant iteration. Just like maidenhood's the time of day when Venus (middle sister of the Moirai) is sky high, and not corrupted hymen or "no copula today", not 'til you can menstruate, then sold as proper slave, which comes in modern times to post-progressive graduates. But Morning Star at birth and Evening's set shine like chimes to younger sheep, or so it seems to be that way when they frolic and play – the rest is for siesta after mother's white fiesta's flowing like the milky way.

Before commiserating mercenaries who's slaughters help the markets, commerce was the co-mercy found at a common commissary and commissars did not command from any royal court or fort nor gift of reprimand, resembled rural courtesy, said "libations all around!" and poured some port to each who might just have hit upon dry ground. There would be, on similar occasion, a reciprocation in reverse, in no wise a debt or due. Reciprocation's just a living poetical device of alternating mimicry, more like dada than an auto payment. A golden rule's unneeded when one notices surroundings: "what goes around comes around, no worries mate".

In the way of metaphor seeking after similarities one finds differences which might become long-time familiarities. "Marriage" regularity called "custom" (then made law by them who only wanted increased property), were not for wedded folk at all, but arrangements to ensure the kids will learn the stories (lays of leys) peculiar to the land and how to get some help if lost or have a hand-up on a fall, or how to grow a seed by watching beetles roll shit-balls, what to expect and when – like growing things like waxing moons and when some owls hoot it's time to move your home. We still call them "old wives tales", thinking a "withered hag or crone", to which she answers, looking of a sudden quite voluptuous "aren't we superstitious, mister high and mighty of opinion! No wonder you feel all alone when sucking after minions!"

Conscious & Subconscious Material

is first of all, not the matter with this issue (maybe nothing is). Nor is it always a cause or material witness, but may be a product, in the sense of multiplication under and over the table. Thinkologists lave long looked to discover specific inner motivations, trapped as they were in the "childish" question "why?", the only word which to many delivers "knowledge" as a psychological state deemed a step above the "common sense" of experience and in fact, justifyies authority, most importantly, their own. Criminologists feel quite at home in this camp, especially since response to stimuli has become passé in the least and at most completely discredited, just when they were making headway with the idea of free association beyond the notion of complicity with guilty parties.

But what thinking person, or child for that matter (or more correctly, issue) would ask the 'why' question unless suspecting something foul or fishy with the affirmation given, not to mention endless, regimented ultimatums? I'm with Poe on this incorporeal matter when he discussed the imp of the perverse. That is the inner genie proficient in outer possibility – its chief question is "why the hell not?" – and lets you know there's always an alternative, even to consistency [a systematization of beliefs is never necessarily true; that is the confusion of what is with what the calculus can do (Wittgenstein)].

Ulterior motives are said to be secret and therefore, interior as well, often acting out without our awareness til after the fact – hence, ubiquitous guilt. Atheists who believe this is a function of nature or physis and not contingent on a generalised social fucktitude (nomos) are revealed to be abject christians after all. The theory is that these "drives" are ultimate or primary. In this sense they resemble gods and politicians with inner demons (or outer puppeteers) imbued with the dark magic of evil forces not ill-resembling some parents. Youth, even in Plato's day were prone to be heard to say, at least under their collective breath, "fuck you!" The literary romantics were first to formulate this into an axiom of nature: "Out of the mouths of babes comes the wisdom of the ages". To this day it is thought by some there resides, even in the elderly, an inner child which must be nurtured to achieve happiness. Freud called it the Id, a collective of recognised possibilities which might come to fruition as desire. More likely, it seems, comes interest for contemplation, particularly for those trained from an early age to suppress or whittle down their wishes. Without the imposed dialectic between thinking and doing by permit-granting institutions (permissive is not here the operant word), participation is added to the mix.

A secret wish is said to be incriminating if it does not arise from duty or responsibility. Desire is less incriminating if it entails a sacrifice or attempts to contribute to others' profits or pleasure. Most folks are not so single-minded and that is not generally considered a fault or lack, since the overly obsessive so often come across as anal fools on a collision course with absurdity. When facing uncertainty as to which desire is to be fulfilled or direction taken, economists have invented the cost-benefit ratio. It is the logic of utility wedded to a payoff. In an earlier day, important decisions were left to a toss of the dice – they called it "divination" – should the albatross or osprey not appear signifying land was nowhere near – they'd call that "reading the auspices". Without certainty, one must take a chance, and Socrates himself said certainty may be the biggest of the social fabrications. Who knows what the gods have in mind? There was also a time when such a question was taken neither literally nor figuratively, but then, it was an age of poet heroes more concerned with good Loki or Fortuna than debt collection or seeking a reward, as then as many heroes fucked shit up as saved the day, and that was to be expected (or so the Tricksters say).

Today, rationality is derived from economic calculations (and proved by a luck in the draw) to materialise a fortune. An educated guess usually indicates insider trading. It's not quite the same as the proficiency of a skilled carpenter or mechanic well familiar with certain tricks of their trade. Kirk once asked Scotty if he'd always exaggerated the time factor for his repairs, to which the engineer replied "How else could I be known as a miracle worker?" Some calculation is often invaluable to avoid falling into the abyss or out of space, but it is the near misses which provide the highest educational opportunity. Otherwise it's just all rote, and where's the consciousness in that?

In the vortex which swallowed Zeus dwell youth and their smart-as spontaneity, applying "play" says "downfall" to a higher-than society

The criticism of the sophists was directed against the entire tradition on which Greek society was based, and principally against the moral conceptions which hitherto had been unquestioned: good and evil, right and wrong. The criticism was essentially negative; that which hitherto had been imagined as absolute was demonstrated to be relative, and the relative was identified with the invalid. Thus they could not help running up against the popular ideas of the gods, and treating them in the same way. A leading part was here played by the sophistic distinction between nomos and physis, Law and Nature, i.e. that which is based on human convention, and that which is founded on the nature of things. The sophists could not help seeing that the whole public worship and the ideas associated with it belonged to the former – to the domain of “the law.” Not only did the worship and the conceptions of the gods vary from place to place in the hundreds of small independent communities into which Hellas was divided – a fact which the sophists had special opportunity of observing when travelling from town to town to teach; but it was even officially admitted that the whole ritual – which, popularly speaking, was almost identical with religion – was based on convention. If a Greek was asked why a god was to be worshipped in such and such a way, generally the only answer was: because it is the law of the State (or the convention; the word nomos expresses both things). Hence it followed in principle that religion came under the domain of “the law,” being consequently the work of man; and hence again the obvious conclusion, according to sophistic reasoning, was that it was nothing but human imagination, and that there was no physis, no reality, behind it at all. In the case of the naturalists, it was the positive foundation of their system, their conception of nature as a whole, that led them to criticise the popular belief. Hence their criticism was in the main only directed against those particular ideas in the popular belief which were at variance with the results of their investigations. To be sure, the sophists were not above making use of the results of natural science in their criticism of the popular belief; it was their general aim to impart the highest education of their time, and of a liberal education natural science formed a rather important part. But their starting-point was quite different from that of the naturalists. Their whole interest was concentrated on man as a member of the community, and it was from consideration of this relation that they were brought into collision with the established religion. Hence their attack was far more dangerous than that of the naturalists; no longer was it directed against details, it laid bare the psychological basis itself of popular belief and clearly revealed its unstable character. Their criticism was fundamental and central, not casual and circumstantial.

From a purely practical point of view also, the criticism of the sophists was far more dangerous than that of the old philosophers. They were not theorists themselves, but practitioners; their business was to impart the higher education to the more mature youth. It was therefore part of their profession to disseminate their views not by means of learned professional writings, but by the persuasive eloquence of oral discourse. And in their criticism of the existing state of things they did not start with special results which only science could prove, and the correctness of which the layman need not recognise; they operated with facts and principles known and acknowledged by everybody. It is not to be wondered at that such efforts evoked a vigorous reaction on the part of established society, the more so as in any case the result of sophistic criticism – though not consciously its object – was to liquefy the moral principles on which the social order was based.

– A. B. Drachmann, 1922 Atheism In Pagan Antiquity

A few big wars to save an ancient structural integrity (and winning!), the golden age of Greece was rendered to obscurity, and even Macedonia died in a generation – all roads then were leading to Rome, a former Trojan outpost. It's now a global infestation since the Spanish inquisition and Merlin led revolt against Mab's enchanted 'kingdom' just in time for statehood and the bourgeois revolution. But heaven's fall was never even threatened till kids found gothic punk grown up on top of some old funk from a former generation.

Could it be that ethereal fourth dimension is home to the juxtaposition of Buckminster-Fuller's "synergy" (neither worker nor a boss can produce a home t.v., that feat belong to the factory!) with Thomas' & Thomas' theorem that the consequences of an illusion attain to it reality? Then the death of gods is proved with Merlin's final dictum, "I turn my back on thee!" bringing on modernism, and the old polysynergy collapsed in a puff of blue magic with little consequence except to steadfast believers who would as soon die where they stand as move to the side of statistical infrequency. With what do we replace the corpses given the theory of a vacuum of power attending the king's assassination? Simple: the birth of possibility as a case of spontaneous generation: physis 3; nomos zip. A real vacuum would suck power into nothing. I would imagine Merlin's incantation would work as well on political executives and other corporate sops – they're not, after all, gods! ... that distinction belongs to cops.

Today the bigheads still buy the spin of folk as mob, as mindless mechanism prone to idiocrity (or is it mediacity?) believing anything. But other than the steadfast few, everyone knew all along it was safer to appear swayed by official talking points (or elsewise called P.R.), to "act as if" than contradict officially obtained wisdoms, that is, until the death of poetry (encrypted pantomime) and only the word was given, when philosophers and playwrights were thereafter thought creative and not absconders of general tendencies already well afloat, or taking others' gut feelings and making of them rhetoric (education once was just a public entertainment).

A cop by any other name's a stalwart magistrate, a burly priest, a set of ungood habits – no gut to ever get it but employed in censorship. A play by Euripides was well received only when it resonated with an audience – the authorities be damned. Had it not we'd have never known that Sisyphus-king was just a moron, but the gods, a cruel joke. And hemlock's for impiety, free thinking gets the yoke or in this gentle day and age, you're set to making license plates and die alone and broke. Hans Christian Andersen full well understood that public thinking's insufficient: to make the higher archy sink takes total disinvestment, or resounding off the walls a proclamatory "Bullshit!"

The subtraction of gender from Eutopia

As said on occasion, "two things the female can do the male cannot is have and then feed children", but apparently, that is not self-sufficient, even in Eutopia, where the lady-folk can change sparkplugs as quickly as gents and without consideration for making cents, there is still a need for an invested deposit with interest. As a result, Eutopian children are the one difference calculated by addition rather than subtraction and without regard to any cancellation of zeros, making them the only difference which makes a difference and more, no matter how little of the furry future they're actually alloted. Were one to count orphans as such, we could truly proclaim a unified theory grand with distinction that is expressing a gut feeling mutually attractive, at least for the moment.

In our own foreign land, moments are scarce or tediously drawn out: the war is on going between synthetical genders in pursuit of congenial gentrification disguised as a "harmless" contract negotiation but with unwanted carry-overs made safe in the pen. There is nothing gentle about this genre until the gendarmes & generals are slammed against the barn at birth, a euphemic ex-posure for kidnapping an illegal adoption, aborting all distinction in the proliferation of difference and an end to all subtraction as a means to growth, where belonging is no longer a sexual question (or its economy) but equally baudy, taking life as they may in lieu of corpses or unwanted scarification. Such is thought overly-idealistic.

Even warfaring Athenians built statues of youth, to this day ill-conceived as pornography, despite the attribution of pagan idolatry. Sans one, another or any combination of parent, orphans and bastards must be parthenogenetic like gods stripped of power and canceled in the ratio. Take away increase and growth loses only the dimension of quantification. After all quality is no product of measurement and therefore under no orders from the competition. Hence the common nostalgia for superiority, ever mistook for a species, of payment as a hostile synthesis between iou and yom, unaware that bad is never genetically transcribed like crooked books and that is the reason every birth is a blank slate in need of no repentance of origin and obliged to none for giving, since innocence can be no more synonym of naiveté.

– see Ernestine G. D'Bordeaux, Theses on the Copula

Ode to Sacrifice in the Cave & on Iceberg

We donned our sacred face, a comic mask to honour the serious and melancholic nature of the business. Honour: the word is meant to hone our appreciation of any matter so deemed worthy of dusting with red ochre, the colour of the life-bringing fluid. Grandpa said he was tired of the place, too fast was the pace, "Help take me to the cave of my brother, 'Old Bear', so he can partake of my sinews and hair, or chew old broke bones for a taste of the marrow before he too curls up for the coming long winter".

Back to the warm cavish womb, my father he escorted. Quick was his ending and the bear was engorged. We fleetfoots went north when the weather enwarmed, no cave was in sight and the bears were all white. Grandma needed no help, it was clear, she simply took off one day without gear, to visit her sisters and shed not a tear. But my father near drowned when his boat overturned, it was on dry land but still did demand I take him out to a different boat, one staying upright, endlessly afloat. I put on my clown mask because of tradition, my own face was wet and in need of rendition. We set out to sea and on berg we did hinge. The air it came brisk but he felt not a tinge 'cause "euphoric it feels", and pretty damn quick if you undo your tunic and cold embrace fully: on an empty stomach, the journey is easy.

The visitor under ungoodly pith-hat went home with my tale and proceeded to chat "the savage there eat their own elders in feast or leave them out cold, no care in the least". Like Ulysses so missing Callista's good wisdom, and charm, heard what he wanted, returning full-armed. "'Tis better to go with good books full of law, and disrespect others their savage guffaws. Life it is sacred and managed must be, prolonging a pain 'cause death's worse than some bondage or nothing at all in the void, into nothing, a black and everlasting fall: pulling the plug or loosing the rope's an affront against all, depriving us hope!"

The wolf quite attracted to calves' fetal membranes, was taken away to alleve ranchers' fears for futures exchanges, uncertain they seemed. Now cows, when they grow old must labour and struggle in pain on the ground, bruising the carcuss exceeding men's taste, so're hauled off as garbage uneaten, to the nearest town's waste, the flies there a'making (maggots, a bear's once-favoured cuisine) are sprayed with the poison, to prevent a plague in life's stinking prison, all for the glory, great good of a nation, 'cause nature's allegory – now vacuumed and clean – is a bomb's agitation or else it's a dream.

"Nothing's connected, no fear when extracted", enlightenment's learned, "and pain is the standard", we're ever forewarned. Analogy's fancy for amusing small kids, but oldsters know better: expect only worse and should you survive, the party's then festive – because yer not deader – you never did live. As long as you're fettered, the future's the time when your ship will come in, but too old you'll be then, or weighed down all rigid with all of your things. My son said "Oh well, he tried, he sighed and twitcing for long, lay down surprised. He died only after the doctor was called, who said 'if only the car had not stalled, there might have been hope or a miracle cure, alas, Lady Fortune's an iffy affair. A pill for your nerves with a tonic of gin will let you sleep well, till I'm needed again'."

The rope it has broke, we continue to tumble and roll, but off on a tangent in a cognitive fog in the same position we were formerly towed, 'til we slam into an absurdly placed log, and come to our senses for a brief intuition: "just what was 'indebt' and to whom was it owed?"

Boasian Reification?

"Intellectual truth is a moral sentiment followed by an emotional outburst enforced by a huff and a puff and a blow yer house away."

– Mental Balance

"The object of science is to rediscover the natural articulations of a universe we have carved artificially."

– Henri Bergson

Viewing the world from within the machinist paradigm, there are two basic lenses: the descriptive or structuralist (eg.., anatomy), and the functionalist (eg., physiology) which presents hypotheses of motivation (in both movement and purpose), answering the questions "what is it?" or "what are its parts or connections?" in the first case and "how does it work?" or "what is it for?" ("why") in the second. Confined to this viewing apparatus, the thingness is the thing. Once identified and plotted for future reference, viewers can move on to the next bit of dismemberment for an ultimate reconstruction more real than reality, if only because it is manufactured, no question about it beyond pride of workmanship.

But when everything is nominalised, it has merely been given a name. The anonymous context always precedes its articulation: before speech comes gibberish, just for the hell of it. This is why a hinge like an elbow has the same name as an enunciation – "arthritis of the tongue" should by now be as meaningful an utterance as disjointed thinking. The article is the real deal because it precedes a noun and then qualifies it by definition. Certainty is always an article of faith, which is why poetry, like a wide-angle lens, is identified by the embrace of ambiguity when it opens up the previously occluded context or rejoins what was formerly amputated, but only by implication – the principle of indeterminacy demands it only for the fallen of faith, those who realise an answer must be another question or turning point in that direction.

Predication is just the (or the just) application of syntax ("when?" and "in what order?"). Systems theory focuses on the connections or articulations alone (zones of connection or dissection) as if they are communication events and calls this functionalism, but because we are still within the machine paradigm, answers are confined to some form of pragmatism. "What is it good for?" just begs the questions "what is good?" and "how much?" Most ideas of functionalism still concern teleology, which is both 1) the reason or justification of a device and 2) its direction. In social systems, we have the questions "where are they going?" and "why?" Whether social or material, the answers break down to 1) structural improvement, creation and destruction and 2) "for itself" or "for the other". Pragmatic teleology is always concerned with profit. "No reason" or "It's fun" is considered childish and in need of improvement. Adultish parents are very concerned with progress and development.

Many who choose the organic over the mechanic metaphor have made no choice at all since the organism is still viewed as a machine. They've merely switched majors from engineering to biology within the same institution. Politics and argument (which are two ways of saying "antagonism" to gain a foothold) errupt largely over nothing because no one has actually left the box or switched viewing apparatus. Antagonism is relieved with a negotiated contract or balanced transaction. The refusal to pay results in civil war.

The box is just a large category. The category, Rousseau would tell us, is literally the result of a past contract devised in some ancient forum among its elect or select membership – an "authentic" communication event representing agreement but more often the power of persuasion, arms or do-nothing, blind faith. To be "on the same page" is the notion of agreement or democracy, the foundation of altruism as the morality of goodness, not interest in alterity – the unknown other. This is why democrats and republicans fight over nothing or fail to see that they are the same. Whenever sides are created, war is the end result and in the process, team-mates are continually exchanged. After the great battles, the teams are actually indistinguishable, yet because the names of the sides are retained, like north and south, matriarchy and patriarchy, communist and capitalist, there can be no actual end to the war. Despite the internal flux, the box is ever more rigid. Because of the flux, the viewing apparatus must be continually improved, just like the progressive evolution of surveillance in cities.

The Hunts and Rockefellers went to war over the sequential order of oil, metal (gold and silver) and paper (the first two as a means to the third, which is mightier than the sword), only to be be outdone by the current syntax of oil, plastic and digital ones and zeros in a computer data-base. The supersession required the improvement of the economic telescope. The digital-analog argument is still being waged by adherents of progressive and old-time religion:

Albeit both 'lectric's insertion by plastic,
Vinyl's still better than any cd,
not meaning certificate of any deposit,
the book's still better than what's on tv.

Today we have the text illuminated on a telescreen – we still read from tabulated squares and not on line at all. Wireless is radio and not a telephone. If this isn't turning back the clocks of time in a faux-forward direction, I don't know what it is than the action of forward-backwardness on backward-forwardness in a Fortean hyphenated existence as the most common experience. Time as the centerpiece of talk is itself the fetish, space-time doubly so, resulting in a total lack of movement and nothing travels everywhere – like nothing is free and all stuck-in-the-muds are justified by reverse sophistry: as religious fetish goes, nothing is as scary as time.

Fetish is just another name for religious or emotional attachment, often (even when it is merely a life-long habit), resulting in refusal to explore outside the box or invent a different viewing apparatus (or "god forbid" rely on what is given in the way of original equipment). The words for such would-be adventurers are heretic, fool or madman. There are pills one can take to prevent or cure a wandering mind (or a search for the difference of novelty as opposed to its creation via dissection). Mind-expanding drugs like certain kinds of poetic discourse (or word play as the experimentation with novel metaphors) threaten the integrity of the collective structure. This is why dropping out is always easier than reform or revolution and may have the most dire consequences upon recapture. Psychological survival then depends on nostalgia: "we'll always have Paris". There's also booze.

Reform merely increases the complexity of the structure (by denying the main axiom of thermodynamics, that no container is too big to burst, given enough hot air). Revolution, a more conservative approach, seeks to replace one with a like-structure by reversing its spin.

Who ever really entered a thought
we'd run out of tree or ore before
we'd see a shortage of slickum, but more,
there'd be any lackage to slippery talk?

Communists who would merely re-route the synaptic pathways of material flow confuse revolution and reform based entirely on religious preference – the adherence to archaic or platonic forms despite present circumstances. Such is how republicans are generally depicted from within the democratic factions, and the republicans call democrats communist. Go figure! The only real third way is out, a notion impossibilists cannot tolerate. As the ambiguous terrorist threat (a replacement for barbarians at the gate) is falling out of colloquial favour, we've come full-circle back to the christian, islamic, judaic friction as if "there is no god but our god" – the hypocrisy being that the three deities were extracted from the same body of just-so stories, making the still-ongoing crusades a mere matter of conflicting literary interpretation masquarading as a "racial", er, national debate – pagan refers to an entirely different myth-time. But fitting with Roman imperial tolerance, the embrace of all gods so long as their own are not excluded, the new-age "goddess" is just an aspiring new contender in an old dress trying to join the fracas out to preserve colloquial categories reified during the crusades. The box must not crumble, not at any cost: we must be civilised! It's a fight club, after all!

You might notice, I've not here left the rope-wrung ring of structural-functionalism, a three-dimensional hang-up. This is merely an attempt at ethnography from the lunatic fringe. It was gods, after all, who invented the wall, and it's diffusion has made archaeology the discovery of redundancy by digging up the dirt.

– Next