“You common cry of curs!” – The Tragedy of Coriolanus , Act III, Scene 3 We all hate the rich and powerful. No, you do, I promise. You might not fault them for their means, but you will never forgive them for their ends. Some decry the decadent lifestyle, others express disgust at abuse of their station to shove their opinions everywhere, and everyone knows they’re irreparably detached from reality. They just…sit there, menacingly, mocking our sorry state, forever fixed in our iconography. And I wish, oh how I wish it was limited to our media, but no. They’re everywhere: Our names for things, our institutions, our daily conversations, there’s no escaping their grasp. Like all power, the relationship is reciprocal—they’re everywhere because we’re fixated on them. Not them as people, though, because we want nothing to do with them. Try to stomach that recurring section in Us Weekly (which will be a deliciously ironic title post-societal collapse), the one where paparazzi have nabbed ...
I am the profane absolutist. Lost are the instruments of old which would call a king to the throne, so I am called to fashion my own. Among the favored tools are my layman's grasp of human nature and untethered mysticism.