Brocialists VERSUS Femanalists

This is White America’s middle-to-upper class breakdown: the males are veering toward socialism (testosterone-fueled pseudo empathy, a break from “sociopathy” or “anti-social personality disorder”) and the females are veering toward capitalism (estrogen-fueled pseudo sociopathy, a break from “fempathy” or “histrionic PD” or “general anxiety disorder”). I know this because my mother and sister occupy the latter and my father and I occupy the former, and we are all ahead of our times (our parents were, at least, and we are at most slightly ahead).

At least that was the HClinton vision; the Trump reality has proven to derail this order, and has come at a terrible, terrible time for both me and my sister. We had placed all our bets on Clinton — on that dynasty continuing its post-shame man (Bill Clinton) and its dominant female (Hilary). We really screwed up!

Now, I’m faced with having to find some place within the heteronormative re-ordering of society, and my sister is having to do same on the female end. It’s not looking good. We don’t even talk to each other about it, which worries me. We are post-revolutionary, we are the downed plane of a failed social experiment which said “let’s have women inherit the rule of this current world” and the response was: “No.”

I’m a bit out of sorts. I’m disorderly, drunken, forgotten, lost, confused, out of place (as usual) and very distraught now that it’s clear that my giant wager (our wager — sister and I via my parents’ wager and break from tradition) has failed, at least temporarily.

This “populist” revolution, or “nationalist” revolution as some call it (theorists, philosophers, people working within political bullshit frameworks rather than relational ones) is nothing more than a gender-based counter-revolution. Western civilization cannot abide a sudden swap, just as much as the Cubans in the 1930s could not abide extreme reforms, or the Russians and the Eastern Bloc in the 20th century could not sustain an extreme shift in the social order. We just do not operate like this — we are bound to history as much as we are to biology, to mathematics, to physics. The human imagination is limitless in terms of its ability to process connections between the body/brain’s stored data and relations thereamongtween but its applications into the ongoing flow of reality are impermanent or unreliably foreshortened due to systems of belief that socialize limitations of varying intensities based on adherent/non-adherent conscientiousness levels. That’s insane, and there’s no reason to believe that an explanation as insane as that doesn’t reflect a society that is not insane, and so the most potent antidote to the insanity is always persuasion; what is persuasive enough can move that which….

We need to move this conversation. Marxist semantics are disabling the movement. It is not “socialism vs capitalism” anymore, as much as people want to believe. It’s Humanism, or Naturalism, or Biocentricism, versus Machinism, or Scientism, or Logicicism… It’s Reason versus Imagination, it’s Poetry versus Rationality, it’s Plans versus Intuition.

What we don’t intuit organically we plot artificially, and what we plot artificially we rationalize systematically. The effects of our plots are charted, systematized, applied rationally. The effects of our intuitions simply are — they are not measured through the impositions of our fabrications, our systems, the designs.

Design is a malignant tumor upon the entire ecology and it is evidenced everywhere from the structural elements of civilization to the supportive components; from urban planning to advertising, from democracy to the rules governing improv comedy.

There is no real art in design aside from the aesthetic remnants of some emulated styles, like taking Keith Haring’s timely forms and spring-boarding them into some broader capitalist and socialist meme-ograph, and so design has in this semiotic and media-aggrandized scaling machine managed to generate a direct consumption of publicized art, of defined “Art”, inasmuch as Art becomes the moniker referring to that which has been acknowledged by its consumers through a shared definition, a market-determined definition of what constitutes “Art” and how it differs from mere trash, or “Runoff” as Hipsterism has self-destructively declared in its saddened, post-suburban state of anti-masculinity and anti-productivity, its distressed and bloated postmodern pre-social scatterbrain status of semiotic glut; where one word cannot possibly apply to anything anyway so silence must stand in for complexity, otherwise why speak your truth, because only you can understand anyway? And so art must then be a post-semiotic affect, a bundle of unarticulated or as-yet articulated sensations and aggregations of emotion-thought-feelings which effectuate the human activity of syntonicity, of some hyper-active relationship one has with the world or with whatever one’s world is, whatever is is and so so long as the art is something then it is art, so then all is art that is something that is coming from someone? So then it is some individual and not collective act, art, and s0 in a world demanding always the collective, how can an individual — a genuine individual — find a place? Because being an individual is as it turns out impossible, utterly impossible, utterly psychologically biologically physically socially ethnographically lllllllllyyyyyyy impossible? That there’s no word without a dictionary.

It is my belief that true art, when released into the world for public reception, is answered by the only response a mechanism can muster in confrontation with absolute complexity and paradox: Rejection, and expulsion. True art is a fiction, then, and so we are faced with a pretty horrible conundrum: Do we want fiction, or do we really want what we’ve determined, through our assessments and measurements and analyses, is non-fiction? Can we live within a truly non-fictional world? Or is that simply unbearable, unimaginable — inhuman? Are we veering violently and inevitably back into nature, from these glorious wiles we called human civilization? Have we done enough?

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