Like A Train Passing In The Distance

Is how my blogging is currently being received by all people; I don't really mind that, as I blog for entirely narcissistic reasons, as I've said in blogposts passim. I couldn't care less whether my readers hold my political views or not, so long as they read mine, and for a few seconds are here, subsumed in my will for however long it takes. I've no stomach for the modern violent assertions of the primacy of ideology, or the selective use of "evidence", such as small scale studies by one's ideological allies, that somehow get, unchallenged, to be part of legislation; or the equally selective rejection and adoption of emotive arguments (I trust I will never again hear a progressive complain about private education, given how much emphasis they put last week on "Parents would do anything for their children" as a justification for creating spare part humans). Incidentally, I really am going to need that liver, so if anyone would like to create a liver-embryo could they please do it within the next 10 years?

I am, as I have said many times before, a tenth rate mind. It is the best and brightest of our apolitical world who are the most aggressive, the most dishonest, the most ideologically driven.

Yes I *am* an ideologue, but I am also an idiot. So it has little bearing on life what I think. Our greatest minds do not want more civility or self-control. They want less. They really do want more destruction and more division, especially within that bastard grouping, the family. The most intelligent people in our society envisage a technological version of slavering over hacked out thighs of mutton in freezing caves, with mouths dripping with blood. They like it. They want savagery and selfishness. They want us to love power and to understand victimhood as a political entity, not a physical state. Meanwhile the physical state of the individual is increasingly limited, satiated as it is by the endless, state approved orgasms; of speech, thought, movement and association the state has little to say beyond "prove who you are and that you have done nothing wrong". Gargling with ecstasy, and its withheldness, its escapology, its temporality, I find I have nothing to say on those matters. There isn't enough time. Only time for glorious oblivion and its means.

For only now does an individual really become part of the collective: when it really needs it to survive, or to do what it has been told is necessary to survive. Create such a condition and you create the means to ultimate and permanent power. Hold the individual in a state of permanent desire and you control them, perfectly. In the past this was understood well, in relation to hunger. Our governments now know that they cannot control access to air, water and food; so the next most powerful drive is that towards orgasm. Let it flourish, bring it forth wherever it may be thought of; let it hold and move people away from any notion of control. For the less they control, the better for us.

Hence a C21 tyranny would make sexual liberation its first port of call, and would not, as Orwell would have us believe, suppress these desires in the hope of somehow sublimating them.

Because, literally, no-one will give a toss when they are aware that the rulers want them to engage, wherever and however possible, in one of the few genuinely animalistic drives we have.

Then, of course, we will come running to the benevolent state for abortion, treatment, whatever. It will keep us needing them.

Not that I'm bitter or anything..