Sunday, 13 April 2014
Is It Possible to Enjoy The Decline? (Part Two)
Game is tough ken, make no mistake about it. It is not the most likely thing in the world, that a lad will go from My Little Pony to the silver tongued Don Juan type with all the little miss lassies hanging off your arm, especially in a relatively short period of time with no mentors to help you on your journey. Your brain is fighting its aspergery fucktardy self, every step of the way. You literally have to reboot yourself. Everywhere you walk, every piece of television you watch and every newspaper you skim in brief, your ego, your persona, your mannerisms, the arts and entertainment of the day, the suit and tie motherfuckers in buildings piercing the sky, carefully craft you and mould you to be like this, or like that or something else altogether. Cisgender toiletpaper. I am not part of this yous say. Of course you're not. Just keep telling yourself that. Remember if you're there, yous are meant to be there, you are meant to be the guy who watches The X Factor ironically. Drop the special snowflake act for a bit there ken. No one is buying it, least yourself. They want you there, and they will keep you there, if it suits their interests.
I went out for a hangout with a lassie for a bit there. No fancy shite, or anything like that, some ice cream and some park strolling, cones in hand people in passing. Trams of young ones being carted off, north side lassies drinking out of cans and kicking footballs to each other on the grass to the right, people stretched out like cats underneath trees of grey and green. We walked on for a little bit, before ditching the cones and returning to the rabble dabble of cunt and cuntesses pouring out of stores onto the cobbled pavements, bags of shopping, hair in buns, football jerseys, frustrated suits trying to make four steps in three. Doesn't seem there is much for the cunt that wants to Enjoy the Decline no?
In part one, I went over how enjoy the decline and how someone confronts the crushing nihilism and fitter happier more productive a pig in a cage leftism that comes with it, the futility of being this one guy in this ocean of people. It's stupid yeah, but the reason might be, well, for now at least, it might be unsatisfactory true, might even be extremely narcissistic to be honest, but it's something to hold onto, however tiny, however small. Even epsilons have their place ken.
So back to the lassie. She's a little bit younger than myself (bear in mind, I'm a young lad meself at 23 en aw) and she's still got that boisterous, to be kind, go conquer and fuck the consequences, the world is the spoon and I am the matrix, kind of vibe to her. It's weird or at least alien, to act this masculine or whatever for a lassie, feeling a lot older than I should, a throwback in this day and age (which be sad en aw) when the lad is just a giant sticky poo in a Macedies jacks, but then thats where it sort of hit me, thank the lassie for that one. When she pointed me to a wedding dress shop and awwed and gasped at the dresses with all them pretty sparkles, when the shop lady took the dress down to show a happy couple, that be when it sort of looked up for the lad.
How can one Enjoy the Decline, but without sitting back like a motherfucker and descending into a hedonistic pit of pandering poon, or willfully engage in an activity that is Sisyphean? I don't think there is any hope in the present to be honest, negative nancy and all of that shite. That one is wrapped up, second derivative a negative ken, not coming back ken. There are black swans a plenty of course, science fiction writers and their predictions of the future are testament to this, but even so. There's just too much that can't be fixed to be frank. So how does one link these two lines of thought together?
First, we must look at the different types of truth. Rob Fedders, Aurini and Free Northerner has talked about them at one point or another. The Absolute Truth, The Objective Truth and The Subjective Truth. The latter is where civilization and culture comes to die. You can argue Oswald Spengler or r/k theory, but the results are ultimately the same. Atheistkult like to think that with a bit of Popper and the love of how we're like, the only fecking universe in the galaxy with life maaannnnnn is the way to find love and glory and meaning in life, but in fact its all bullshit, because that is the job of myths, the job of religion, the job of people. Who gives a fuck about Charles Stuart Parnell or Mikey Collins or Daniel O Connell or whomever from Irish History, and the dark little secrets, the skeletons in their closets? Fuck em. Don't care if they were bummers or if they hated BLACKS cause thats what all the evil white lads did. The myth of them being being truly great Irishmen is what drives things forward, unites communities, acts as the accelerator to culture, the fuel, the essence of what being Irish is.
You fuck with this, you fuck with the Absolute Truth, and then people are lost, broken, listen to Outkast and take some happy pills to cope. The Church as well. In another life, I would have been that precocious altarboy fucko with all the books and all the readings, not the milf comeoner failing degenerate that I am today. But its hopelessly corrupt and naff these days, with popes telling yous about how Christopher Hitchens can go to heaven and we will join him there soon.
It's bullshit, all bullshit. Mad as a hatter, or that lad in Alice in Wonderland.
So what do yous do? Well, there's one thing you can do, and again, I hate putting it forward, but it is the only thing I can put forward, unless its just being foolish. Here it is.
That's it, plain and simple. Nothing profound, or transcendent, or the next Categorical Imperative or any of that shite.
Picture fifty years in the future. The worst possible scenarios in your head, zombies, aliens, vampire, a new dark age. People look back. When this nonsense was at its peak in the early 21st century, you were the guy who called it out for what it was, which was anti liberty, anti freedom, anti love, anti human. You looked evil straight in the face and told him to fuck off and die ken, and no one else can take that away from you. Become The New Barbarian. Fuck em. They can't take that from you, even if it is lost to you in that final second of time.
When the manjawed lassie who played basketball talked about privilege, yous, yes yous, you made an honest effort and made a sweet feminine girl happy by not being a walkover, can I pulease have sexual relations with you sand in your vagina, pussyarsecunt. You, as a man, gay or straight I don't care, were born to lead and direct women, because you were a man and that is what you did. And yous did it, when no one else did.
When your family was in trouble, when your friends needed yous in a emergency, you stuck out your hand and told them not to fucking make a grab for the cup, cause let's face it, you've got your friends backs and they have yours, they are the ones that yous hold out for. You were a man and that is what you did and you did it with aplomb. These human beings is what you had though these turbulent times and even though you're not sure youre going to make it, you were there. That's it. You tried.
Roll on the credits.
Please don't mistake this for "man up and marry those sluts" bull. This is combining different fields of ideas and philosophies, trying to model, emulate and follow the truly great men in history and stand for what they stood for, not corrupting their ideas through Frankfurt nonsense. Think your grandfather, working in Ford or taking on alligators with shovels. This is what he would want, not this manchild lispy get the dildo and the butter out nonsense.
You called out evil where you saw it. You called out gamma behaviour where it arose and never backed down when yous had the chance, though not mistaking true for Pyrrhic victories which tore a cunt up when it didn't need to. You failed, as conceptions of gender and sex turned into something horrible and grotesque, the world now a blend of Brave New World/Infinite Jest horror, as thoughtcrime became perhaps more serious, as violence between races broke out, as your head was beaten in with a metal bar from being a cheeky cunt to the wrong guy outside the wrong nightclub and there was no more to your story. It ended just there, just outside Diceys. Here lies Franco. He was a cunt. No one talks about him. Fuck it, what's for dinner?
But he tried goddamnit.
Which brings a cunt back to the lassie in the window with all the dresses. Yous can think about fatalism and shut yourself down and join all of the other bronies, or you can think of the little flourishes, the changes in tempo, the lassie who smiles because she feels like a lassie for the first time in an age. In this age of relativism, perhaps we are the crazy ones. Perhaps we are the wrong ones, the intolerant ones, the malevolent, scheming, anachronistic, prison guards of that old kind of hazy hell. Because it is all relative, we are the devils after all. And it may seem like a cop out of cop outs, but in the end, yous know? So fucken be it. Might be more fun being the evil one. What, you read Paradise Lost for God's character? That's like watching Muholland Drive for the lesbian scenes. Sure, them some nice lassies, but that's a fucken great movie ken.
She talks about weddings and some far away stuff. I looks up at her, smile and lead her to the nearest pub. Couldn't be better, flash forward to the future, having "tried"...
"Tell us again granddad, about your seventeen children and your beautiful harem of Eastern Europeans..."
"Well when I was 22 years old, I decided to Enjoy the Decline..."
"What happened then?"
"And then what?"