Tuesday, February 3, 2015

New Stuff on the Way

It's been over a year since I finished Moldbug. Praise sweet Jesus, it's 2015. And I've determined that this blog is in need of a reboot.

I started The Cantankerous Mustache with an interest in political philosophy (emphasis on Nietzschean anarchy) and art. As a thoroughly decadent sonofabitch, I've always been drawn to the more sensual (or is it sensuous?), aesthetic side of life. I want to refocus this blog towards my more godless inclinations. It's all about my feels, yo! And, as I've argued since starting this blog, sometimes degenerate art is simply some of the best art. For example, let's take Depeche Mode. Their work, popular as it once was, speaks for itself but it speaks in tongues only accessible to those who can hear darkly.  Personally, I love it. So deliciously Right and yet anarchistic in its affirmation of the midnight side of life. And, thus, so, so Dionysian.

Oh, I have some other thoughts, too, I'd like to address and expand on: like, how if I were neo-king of a new order, I'd ban Twitter. It's obviously a slovenly, perverted tool of modernity that only fuels our individualistic and narcissistic, masturbatory egos with smug, undeserving self-satisfaction...just like blogs such as this one, which should also be banned. Its prohibition would clearly serve the common good of the community, and would also protect our identities from entryists. Why do we need this debauched multitude of individualistic Tweets or blogs milking the masses with such thoughtless forms of self-expression, most of which disrupt the social order and thus rip apart the traditional psych-fabric of our identity?

Moreover, I've been focused more on my own creative pursuits lately. Perhaps one day I'll paint a crab, claw clenched to the wing of a duck (or is it a shark now?) whose other appendage (wing or fin) holds hands with a cyborg, whose remaining steel fist grips the red wing of a rooster, completing the totally heterosexual, very traditionalist neo-pagan circle with its other wing clenched by the grasp of the crab, all of whom share a collective dream, a dream of a world where we will be judged not by the content of our characters, but by the color of our desire to destroy the world. Only to create a new one.

Until then...



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