A Call for a Return

We are here, the abyss, we have killed God as Nietzsche puts it, we have ate the rich, torn down the statues, and now live free of tradition, structure, and all the trappings of the patriarchy. It’s a time to celebrate, a time to hedonistically dance, drink the stolen sacramental wine, and fornicate, after all any repercussions of such actions can be justified with a few words about progress, or removed with  a scalpel.

How did we get here?

We have been "progressing" for over 50 years now, do we feel any safer, do we feel genuine love? Do we even feel free?

The aristocracy of old is long gone, it was driven underground by the enlightenment, so what did they do? They fled their palaces and hid within the ranks of the Intelligentsia, those old dusty books and leather chairs of academia, a way to separate themselves from the baseness of humanity. They went into the Officer Crops where their talents for stewardship can flourish, and worst of all they left the common man to his own devices.  

What did the common folk do? They replaced the old gods with new, but instead of nobles with generations of culture, education, and leadership for dealing with the trappings and responsibility of greatness. They chose to elevate the most charismatic or simply outrageous of their own ilk. Instead of leaders with prudence, integrity and earnestness we have sports all-stars, Reality TV stars, and musicians, and then we feign outrage when they do not meet the moral standards of the aristocrats of old.

All of this while also forcing academia to lower its own standards to further profane those institutions in a vain attempt to be closer to the one thing they destroyed, but desperately want to be a part of. This is envy in the name of progress; “if I can’t have you no own can” it’s a codependent relationship with a toxic lover who plays the victim out of scorn.

We have done away with religion and expect the world to be moral, we have stripped humanity of its beauty and then lament at the ugliness around us.

My sword is waiting

The 4th turning in the cycle is upon us

And a crown is without a head