Madness: a form of love

When we are assessing the state of our conscience today, vis a vis topics like racism, 'xenophobia', ( a long with perhaps others such as woman's rights, gay rights, etc.) don't forget, it is only 'white' societies that people of other ethnicities flock to come to and are largely welcomed into. A bunch of poor, low-skilled, politically under-fire Jews or white Caucasians would neither be wise to immigrate to sub-Saharan Africa, or Saudi Arabia, or even China (given the working conditions of their poor, low-skilled laborers), nor would they likely be nearly as safe or as accepted if they did. In many cases, they would be outright persecuted, particularly if they were Christians or, even worse, atheists. They certainly wouldn't be rushed onto a welfare scheme where they can receive without doing any labor not less than 10s of times their previous salary plus having their special 'feelings' catered to in Law. As thanks for provid

I do see political awareness as extremely closely entwined with individuation. It is only by becoming aware of the relationships of subjugation and domination in which one is intimately entwined that one attains to a true moral conception of one's significance and capacity for action, not to mention one's true existential, epicurean, and honorific state, i.e. the true prognosis of threats to spiritual and especially physica l survival, which re-engage our basic awareness, fear, and capacity to control within certain limits our own mortality, a long with the ability for pleasure and self-determination through sovereignty and satisfaction of the will. In a world in which most basic appetites are already taken care of, the political realm assumes essential significance to give continued, undeniable and urgent meaning to life in light of the struggle for dignity which it brings to the fore. Without it, life has little or no apparent aim, and many of us sink silently into state of

Someone said he doesn't talk to the Left. He does talk to them, but if he wanted to avoid them he WOULD have very good reasons, since they habitually ask the stupidest questions (about gender, for instance. 'Do you believe trans women are real women?', in full inquisitional tone of course, springs to mind as laugh-out-loud funny) and their characterizations of him and his ideas tend to be hatchet jobs verging on slander. The real question is why does he refuse to even address the topic of a Satanic, Globalist, Zionist or other conspiracy, etc. as the possible root cause of much of the social-malaise that he rightly points to, i.e. it is the 'extreme right' that he avoids talking to, not the Left, an encounter with the latter being in fact quite apparent to his thought - evidently, all too apparent for those without a shred of anything to cling to to defend their violent, dangerously widespread and bizarre ideologies from his insightful and wonderfully humane crit

Racism, at least in its more extreme forms if they ever were again to come to the boil, is undoubtedly a great stymie to the kind of multi-plural, tolerant, exotic and global humanity most of us would like to see today. The intense hatred directed at people who are perceived as 'racist' nowadays (even if it is only of the mildest sort, such as merely using a non-P.C. word), however, in its sheer nastiness reveals that it can only be the product of a fundamental self-hatred. Such tribalism runs deep in all of us - it is how we evolved, a type of 'kin selection' - and It is as if these self-proclaimed 'social justice warriors' are so angry that they are not allowed or able to express their own fundamental racial prejudices that they attack anyone who does from sheer unbridled, unmitigated envy. In their resorting to such malicious attacks, they are appealing to their victims lowest instincts - simply to change their utterances out of social or physical intimidatio

What's that siren, what's that bell? The S.S. are back with their van of Hell.  Little John Cotton is plied with rum, His heart is beating to a poacher's drum. "Better not squeal, better not tell... Or they'll find you at the bottom of that wishing well." What's that siren, what's that bell? The Social Services are back with their van of Hell. Little John Cotton holds his bum, Better not move, better play dumb, "Better not squeal, better not tell... Or they'll find you at the bottom of that wishing well." What's that siren, what's that bell? The boys in blue are back with their honor to sell. Little John Cotton cries for his mum, She's dead now and won't ever come. "Better not squeal, better not tell... Or they'll find you at the bottom of that wishing well." What's that uniform, what's that? Hell! They're going at him with their 'truncheons' all pell mell. "Bett

I wish that my story were an archetypal tale of awakening and success, like ‘Camelot’ (a name designating the contemporary Welsh town of ‘Caerleon’; where I was once committed), ending in the slaying of the dragon and a hero’s homecoming to his rightful throne. Alas, my own story is more fitting for troubadours who dwell less on romance, and more on sheer penury; but even then, without the clear cut ending that might at least give the wan tale its mythic resonance.– no tragic, sudden demise, but rather long drawn out, tortuous thwarting of the bloom of youth serving only to truncate and mediocre the otherwise hilly peaks, rather than to give them relief by way of the equally necessary valleys, cascaded with rivers of sweet sorrowful and cathartic tears only to enhance the grandeur of their eventual triumph. More cenotaph than cynosure, I cannot claim to be an avatar for others; I am more a warning of the way  not  to travel. Yet for those who have the ‘subtle fingers for nuances’, a