the reason jimmy regresses is not the mythical cyclicality, no rhyme belongs on the edge of history, nor post-structural euphemisms can suffice here, albeit a darkness that is naturally found within and without the human body.
bringing back metaphors that for some reason are no longer fashionable like the “glass celiing” aka “gender (pay) gap”. then what? in the abscence of any science, which one would you start? hence, geography is out because it cannot map to, say, gender etc. leading to the search for a “grand unifying theory”, in the absence of which, jimmy regresses to the mean.
now, the mind that is exodus believes johnny can improve, but the rotten core knows no light, only a heathen’s cowshed with some dung, a fly and lots of hay but no cow. at night jimmy likes to imagine the barn a desert, but to psychoanalyze a whole nation is to generalize, it merely happenned to be the case that jimmy’s imagination led him that far from the maddening crowd.
but our dissatisfaction begins at home and since although this is formally a nation, but even the white house is nobody’s home. jimmy is stuck in the barn because he imagines the world is hostile outside, when as a matter of historical fact as someone who has been there, done that, it isn’t. but geezers need a measure.
the evils of comparison may well have their roots traced to europe because the eastern half of this rizome is decidedly less rotten, less prone to playing the comparison game. one of the books flagged in my face as i was introduced to wall street was cormack mcarthy’s blood meridian, the story of jimmy isn’t far from that piece of fiction as a metaphor. though to its credit, the book makes the darkness seem native to the land, not the man, which is true to an extent.
the natives had a different relationship with it, but they were literally fake “indians”, imagined only as a safety valve in an attempt to best ward off whatever evil lurked there, it is not the case that the invaders were ever unaware of its powers but like recent allusions made in films and elsewhere, they surrendered to it, it seduced them from beyond the grave, way before columbus had a glimmer in his eye, as it now seduces me.
this is not to say all empires are to an extent evil, merely to trace how it got this way, this time around, in an attempt to fix, if not improve within bounded rationality.
in the absence of all sciences, we can begin with history but the problem there is the hegelian curveball of infinite regress. history solves “what” problems but raises more “where” questions than it can ever answer. this absence is a forgetting of everything rolling inside the temporal now. and in the absence of all knowledge, only the present moment or local knowledge assumes importance.
however, even more recently also the story is the same, NRIs milk the darkness like a cow because they understand what moral pliance entails, and are perhaps naturally inclined to it, they’re successful in convincing jimmy the cow exists, when in truth whatever cow there was, jimmy had already eaten.
sick, sad, lonesome, full of regret sits he, waiting, dying in each moment.
there is a shadow to the iron rule of oligarchy, is that it ends in a mess, whereas a monopoly or duopoly or even cartels fare better. i mean just look at Russia. oligarchies rot as fruit, but ripley’s believe it or not, jimmy is the rot within. which is to say that sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll was the entire manifest destiny and past its timely demise, machines have taken over.
one gets incredulous stares from washington for saying such things, but as someone who is “eating their baked beans”, someone rent asunder by their cruelty, i had to become more objective without being impolite, shedding my disney illusions by the hour. and i had more illusions than a sears chrismas catalogue.
victim hunting is pointless for there is no dearth of victims out there, those caught up in the pointless gyrations of history remain stuck, I have no mercy left for jimmy and the world at large increasingly nods in agreement. the only victim here is jimmy, not a case of civilizational harakiri, but a bluegrass case of shooting oneself in the balls, of course the shotgun was sawed-off first.
maybe the world needed another vice, maybe i was born to ring this knell. i had to pay for the priviledge with a total loss of trust to the point that my mouth was sealed shut to the whole truth. at least the whole i knew if not the absolute, gold-standard truth against which i was “allgedly” judged, political stunts by proxy aside.
the world at large has always been a hoax, but perhaps never in history had lines drawn so clearly, as if boundaries found in their very breaking. here, there was a differential calculus at work which made apparent, to common sense at least, which hoax was preferable, jimmy’s expulsion from the school was now but a matter of time, not because the world had run out of patience, but because it had no more attempts left.
i would not indeed have had to write this if it meant being the bad cop only, so yes we’re not going to mars and perhaps never even went to the moon but the mind that is exodus will travel westwards once more and hence a warning is due.
jimmy was once a king, so tread lightly when you tread on his dreams. that said, curelty of empires is repaid with appropriate interest and jimmy’s case was particularly bad for not only those who have violence done unto them do violence in return, but those who have transcendental violence done unto them, do just the same.
so what percentage of time is he not a retard? an irredeemable number if one exists i’m sure.
in a world where appropriation and attribution no longer meant anything, history became this irredeemable number, now one can name one’s offspring “seven”, but if weaponising language is the idea, one could also name him “loser”.