The Stygian Wholesto

God is not dead; the divinity has simply been transplanted into the neoconscious realm of lethargic matter condensed into evanescent vibrations intangible to man’s Formosa. If that is not breaking news­, this should be: this strain does not resist recovery—it only secures it by terms of the satanic. But an off the beaten track approach to the idea of satanic must be acknowledged and not hissed upon to conceptualize this strange dichotomy in fairness. Evildoers beware, and non-evildoers beware more honestly, in other words. In Arrubie’s short essay, “The Sepulture of Satan and Post-Modern Exigence,” he claims that the only way to surmount evil is to embrace it at every turn. As radical and often illogical Arrubie’s essay may orientate itself to the reader, there is an inner actual logic regarding the nature of evil, the nature of good, and the lack of a mediating voice of divinity in the post modern atmosphere. The poignant factor in his argument, and one that the Stygian Wholesto moderately vitalizes, is that Satan, or the cultural component of his nature, is the father of deconstructive inquiry and the reoccurring anti-temporality of rational humanism which enlightenment evolution hinges upon. Man must recapture Satan to stand on his shoulders in the Percinian sense. Only then will man reject his consumerism towards ontological arrestment. This, of course, does not mean that the Stygian Wholestian conceit stumbles upon systematic philosophies overlooked by a biased discipline of inquiry. But is does point its antenna in the direction of conquering evil—the fundamental difference between, and ridiculous theory, of meaning and intention transcended from the invisible prime mover. In other words, God is not dead, but merely a hostage of intellectual history which ultimately denies the harbored consciousness of false ethical motivations. A satanic undermining should not be developed in the contemporary sense of man’s creative possibilities, but instead, should be prompted in order to deconstruct existential projects of unmediated knowledge.

What did he say? He wants us to brush it off as slippage? Of logical reasons for Richards’ speech acts, they are ambiguous and controversial in terms of how we should receive them. But, there is an ample amount of reason in terms of post logocentrisms rising from social identification in zones of explicit anguish stemming from viewpoints indigenous of hidden world transcripts. As the architect of the Stygian Wholesto, I feel these transcripts of the social discourse of racism should be reflected upon in order to construe the realities of formalism, and the communal realities of resisting the pioneering of polemical vernaculars and economic subtexts. Richards’ backlash to his audience can be read as an attempt at the depersonalization of eugenics in some illogical show stopping production. Furthermore, Richards, a social comic of privileged name only affords himself a marginal certitude by denying the impact of his language amplified by his speech acts; for there is no clear ontological reason for his intention of repelling an illusory assault, and the grave assumptions of his audience. When Richards’ violently swings with “nigger,” his iconic disposition instantly collapses under the weight of an obvious pre-conceived tendency for tropological modes of a prefigurative cultural nature. In other words, Richards’ is quite modern by his non-cryptic methods--impossibly a symptom of slippage--and also permits an interrupted another regardless of satirical, radical, or dominant attempts. So what are we left with? Who will Richards’ be in a cauterized, culturalized mode of popular historicity? My answer is that he is probably no more than another false-generative comical influence of outrageous transactive shaping reflective of his cultural idolatries of racial inclusive messages…no more than the real Kramer, really.

Recently, I viewed the movie Babel directed by Inarritu—his seemingly third installment of telescoping on the bathetic ethical conundrums perpetuated by the usual biological suspect—humans. While entertaining with its taut dramatic pulse and piercing honesty, a sense of disappointment rolled over me as the film faded to black. I thought—perhaps we are in rats’ alley where the dead men have lost their bones? My disappointment springboards from the loose titular usage of Babel, and then unhinges with the resulting epiphany that perhaps the allusion toward the Tower of Babel is truly a self injected, subconscious diffusion of the confused tongue—or more likely, and more misanthropic, that it is the product of the confused mind and artifice of an aimless didacticism. Of the ill-fated tower, Babel resists any allegorical applicability, save for another Hollywood “castle in the sky.” Dr. Francis Herbert, in his book, America: The Sultan of Things Despotic, alludes to the ill-fated tower of Bāb-ilu, as “that grounded magnificence of Breugel’s enchanted painting…the prime matter of human nature and source of all false reasoning…that Tower on the cursed hill.” With that false reasoning as source of natural human folly, Herbert enjoys building on that estranging to prophesize our “ignored or dreaded future.” At times, this seems to be the other motivation of Inarritu. However, I would like to briefly propose an often unobserved clarification. The Tower as degenerative is a bias long stemmed from the subjectivity of historicity, and the sucker punch of poetical archetypes. In a way, Innaritu typifies this tradition. Language was not confused or babbled by any apocalyptic hermeneutically divined intervention, but only an illusion manifested in the misconstrued logos of the human mind. In other words, the construction of the Tower was never Satanic in a dualistic notion, and the deconstruction of the Tower was never benign by any applied swag of divinity. The inherent consciousness of man, more congruent with binary code than with phonemes and morphemes, is an irreducible eternal discord with a hymnology and phenomenology of uniqueness, and only transmitted through an intangible cultural methodology like the conch of Golding’s plea for social constructivism. And with this observation of how language truly transcends in anthromorphological vectors, the irony of Innaritu’s film is spotlighted—and any modern investigation of the epistemological fallacies of language only result in further fissures of an undermined and referential painful approach to understand philological dissimilarity. So by the end of the film, we remain paralyzed in Prufrockian inertia, and the rats’ only continue to pick at the bones.

Recently, my newest article, “How to be Domestic in a Neonihilistic Nebulous Nation,” has grown much criticism in its validity and applicability, or what was deemed (by critics) as intro-egotistic psycho-babel. First off, my book is not meant to be a pejorative attempt of a careful neo-consideration towards any justice of logical fallacies or rectified reifications resulting in domicile disparity or hopelessness. Instead, the conceit of the article is simple. It’s about doing when there is nothing doing—in the sense of non action—primarily transcended from acting solitary without a notion of communal solidarity. We tend to see life as indifferent, objective, and often without flaw or those ambiguous situations, sexual or psychological, of provisional ineptness and falling into unstable hollow men. More so than Eliot’s modern-man, is the antique, but always relevant Job. Job is an invocation of righteousness, a spellbinder of harmonious entertainment perpetuated by Satan—Lord Lucifer —Prince of Darkness—patron of the babelnish and discreet charm of indoctrination. Wholly, our friend Job was averse to his imagination, but the secret rooms, the biblical invaginations, tell us there is an eternal disposition, and the disposition does not amount to much insight. So what does this have to do with Neonihilism and nations? Easy. Sometimes we may lose a fight, but with practical ways of being, we can confront lonely mortality. We must restart philosophical inquiry, we must create a novel vocabulary, we must undertake criticism to mute the basic ways we ultimately derive the idea that we face these facts and entail an anxious, nebulous distortion of a non dualistic logic which refuses synthesis and dynamic tension between the thing and its other—predicate logic.

Life feeds on life, which feeds, of course, on the role of descriptive needs in the material need for the deprivation of goods which causes social exclusions as Honneth describes as ‘the struggle of recognition.” This relates primarily to the alienation and disenfranchisement of education and living standards which only perpetuates a guaranteed minimum income, or rather, a proposed system of redistribution, resulting in supplementations to government income. This is exemplified with issues in linguistic semiotics representing developing structuralism around the globe when they increase in methodological skepticism while covert real narratives shuttle between patriarchal and sexist phenomenology. Obviously, we see this method as a pejoratively measured description of a seemingly immobile and sclerotic political order. However, it is important to see what we can see, or rather, to know the boundaries of our linguistically assumptions about language. In other words, a word does not word anything. To word as action is to assume an unconscious apathy of the human spirit, to slave morality, and chain paradox—the essence of liberation. Therefore, from the outset, language has been condemnation, damnation of faculty, devoid of meaning and aesthetic value, the ultimate obscuration of objectified, subjectified truth, and discursivity, and similarly to the old bard, words are told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.