Back around 2011 or 2012, I traded chains of email with a Polish writer by the name of Jack Malinowski. We’d made acquaintances sometime earlier through the short-lived film-making think-tank, wreckamovie, organized by the Finnish production company behind the Iron Sky films. Jack and I consulted on a number of projects therein, and got along well enough that later I brought him in to freelance some articles for New Comics Day, a webzine I managed that consisted entirely of fake comic book news, niche within a niche, but which strangely predicted quite a number of events months or years in advance. It happened so often that some readers thought the site was conducted by relevant industry insiders, when in truth a mere deductive reasoning had found a rebellious voice in spoof and parody. Jack struck me as borderline schizophrenic, his contributions imaginative though growing fastly more and more unhinged and nonsensical. I knew he could not and should not write for any commercial/corporate/mainstream outlets, but I don’t think he had yet realized that about himself. His dream project however, the subject of the bulk of our email, concerned creating and exploring a nondescript twitter account which would divulge transmissions seemingly from inside the Military Industrial Complex generally and Intelligence Community explicitly. The posts would theoretically come across as hyper-realized, hyperbolic quips pertaining to cloak and dagger affairs of the global political realm like updates for agents in the field. Various codes would be used and many more would be suggested, but absolutely none of it would pertain to anything in reality, insinuations full of wild claims reaching instead to assure all the types of tinfoil idiots supporting the ancient aliens docu-series trash on cable television how they had been right all along. The target would have been artsy shit-posting, but masked in the form of intelligence briefs being shared publicly without context or subtext, sanctioned or unsanctioned, at once to validate and to weaponize the lowest common denominators of western civilization, for the purposes of their own fear-mongering eventually doing themselves in. Jack wanted to play with patterns and alliteration, specifically to insulate some unfathomable but by all accounts quite nefarious greater meaning at hand. I’ve no idea what became of him or his idea for a crazy social networking gag, but only a few years later the Q ordeal was born from the chan boards.
The more I think about it, the more I wonder if he may have actually been responsible. This is not me name-shaming him. I never buy into the logic of shooting the messenger. If Q was Jack’s doing, I don’t think he shares any blame for what those overeager to please their own prejudices have proven or will prove culpable of. Because unlike other candidates for the Q identity, I know that Jack was not one to get sold onto any politico’s sales lines. Anybody else would have been perpetuating the craziness to advance the interests of Trump’s investors, but with Jack, destabilizing playing fields would have been for the lols. Even those across the partisan aisle who actively claim to be on the side of truth and justice, in practice, would much rather attack those rare voices who earnestly are trying to make things better for everyone. As though depriving people of opportunities to be loved is valued as more ideal than chances for them to grow or to evolve, and were some grounded thing unto itself. I am not his friend, and I am not his enemy. I’ve no respect for his wasting so much of my time before, but I can recognize that while soberly acknowledging it serves as no qualifier for my ever using him or abusing him, or ever wanting to see him used or abused by others. How we relate to each other in this culture and society informs us in execution that what we ourselves actually say and do influences so much more around us than does wishful fantasy or illusion or marketing, because everything that is taken as appealing or unappealing defines the black and white, predictable simplicity of our natures whether we ourselves like it or not.
Slave-traders of the livestock exchange. Expecting commitments free of principle and conviction. Socially t.A.T.u. but fiscally Pussy Riot. Undying love or monstrously hurt feelings and no breathing room between. On public display showing among political leaders and religious leaders and the shareholders of Alphabet, Facebook, Amazon, Apple, Netflix, Microsoft and Disney. But it’s also how you relate to your friends and family, your neighbors and co-workers and the total strangers filling by necessity all other voids in this or any life. Influencers are asking to get replicated. Taken to its appealing or unappealing conclusion, diversity lacking from economics is monopoly, diversity lacking from genetics is inbreeding, and I say the lacking of philosophical diversity is empirical death.
Most of all do such figureheads themselves suffocate when made centerpieces to cults of personality in accordance with their mutual cravings and yearnings, the idle throngs of unwashed seat-fillers clamoring and clinging and clutching for more and more as the rarely gratified center of their attentions and their affections finds itself trapped with nowhere to effortlessly flee. They choke in the foul airlessness of sweaty meat and vociferous platitudes full of sound and fury signifying nothing, thoughtlessly and heartlessly entombed into segregated enslavement within their own gated communities, their private clubs and private schools and exclusive VIP rooms. Where they must toil through the stagnation to come of being inexperienced, unwise and unchallenged in life. like there is any reason or logic to one’s own biases, desires, fetishes, quirks and whims being the priority of strangers, copied and pasted into the official canon reformulating thoughts and feelings of zillions of controversially nonempty points in space and time toward natures not their own. The core of any sun in any sky is its most destructive part, ultimately even burning itself out into desolated collapse. The absolute best of any star is its invariable futility, the autobiographical punchline, anything else just misguided energy in a world where formalities create far less enticement upfront or after the fact closure than does meeting the dire immediacy of satiation physically enveloped by the comely asshole of a fine young woman, measuring lullabies with singsong. The only event where body, mind and soul might be unified for violence consensual or not. When no other singular experience in life unites the holy trinity of sex, death and rebirth, the rest of life becomes the foreplay. For that matter, what is foreplay, but to help others note how lust and wrath are regularly experienced by animals, unlike the other deadly sins, signifying that unlike the other deadly sins lust and wrath indeed hold their respective places in the natural world. It’s my own theory that when impulses for those two specific sins are repressed, oppressed or suppressed, the others come into play. Privately or collectively what does us all in is the gluttony, the greed, the envy, the pride and especially the sloth. One and all are they reactions to a sexual or physical inferiority. Which is made impossible when existing outside of groups for comparison.
In practice, most persons seem more fearsome toward prospects of a social deplatforming than a public execution. When all statements are apparently public, nothing of speech can honestly stay in context. The people who ever say that blood is thicker than water reveal the ease with-which they could also magically establish invaluably valueless significance in oil being yet thicker than blood. Nobody likes when systems of checks and balances show prejudices or capacities for preferential treatment, yet either for their own egos or for the bigger egos who’ve sold them will the contributing members to a society, its political tribes or its religious sects sanctimoniously see the entire universe outside their grasp as subject to unarguably self-ingratiating bartering systems nonetheless. All hopes and dreams collectively limited by everyone for everyone deserving of bones to pick, simply because they’ve been awarded no picks to bone by the very forces governing all productions of irrespective environments. No matter the functionality of rainbows or shades of grey.
Neither wealth or power or authority over what lies beyond ourselves is gathered through benevolence or through innocence, but from the clear and direct lack of self-sacrificing behaviors, a helplessly needful and needfully helpless dependency on the benevolence and innocence of others granting its own select prides and sensibilities, with entitlements and privileges and renown. And if wealth and power and authority are synonymous, even within the depths of margins, then ultimately and finitely are they one and all enshrouding the absence of responsibility. Love of online pornography leaves something to be desired.
Self-serving personages fetishing and so white-washing their predispositions toward obtaining more power, more wealth, more authority, less and lesser often masqueraded as guises of nationalist pride or religious dogma but more bluntly cited as being for creature comfort zoning. Self-gratification distorted as synonymous for whichever goodness to be found culturally, publicly or socially. “I’m doing great” says the person with time and resources for issuing public statements neglecting the pure subjectivity of thoughts and feelings. “Nobody asked” ought to be the natural reply from the feeds. Masses of artless souls otherwise trained only for reaction and repetition triumphantly unearthing purpose drawing parallels and drawing the same parallels, drawing conclusions and drawing the same conclusions. Concentric circles occur naturally, yet we resist any overlapping today like some entitled and privileged fear of the cooties interfering with private pursuits of happiness. Circle jerks do not and cannot happen without masturbation. Being member to a church or member to a state, or branded loyalist for whichever all-new and all-different contrivance of supplies as products and services responding to the wholly unmolested needs of demand whether for business or pleasure, to buy or sell into any of these macrocosms is to play a small, personal part in the manufacture of real world equivalency to MMORPGs, a shepherded herd mentality but never a shepherded herd immunity. Intermediaries everywhere and for all experiences in life, and regardless of pomp and circumstance no two self-serving personages can meet halfway, as grounds are made uncommon so go the scriptures. The first order of business when enlisting with a political partisanship or religious denomination or a given brand loyalty where if you’re no fan you are a bad person hashtag love, is in mistaking one’s own willpower or the will of any one other, for the wills of the people. There is no such thing as universal principles or convictions, least of all your very own or those belonging to your favorite product or service. Just how many ideologues exactly sign off on entire clusters of far away peoples by default getting swept under rugs, for the crime or sin or offhanded slight of innocently never having been exposed to the possibility on sale by said ideologue, whether it’s their well-funded but also grassroots political movement or their fundamentalist sect’s going out of business sale or their self-image on a random day or some upcoming cartoon series streaming that fills the cold void of their incapacity for conversation?
Who feels liberated?