By Borzoi
“If much in the world were mystery the limits of that world were not, for it was without measure or bound and there were contained within it creatures more horrible yet and men of other colors and beings which no man has looked upon and yet not alien none of it more than were their own hearts alien in them, whatever wilderness contained there and whatever beasts.”
– Cormac McCarthy, “Blood Meridian, or the Evening Redness in the West”
“ＢＯＲＮ ＴＯ ＤＩＥ
WORLD IS A FUCK
鬼神 Kill Em All 1989
I am trash man
410,757,864,530 DEAD COPS”
https://theamericansun.com/2018/12/16/pissearth-2025/It is cliche at this point to speak of how horrified you are at the detritus of our postmodern world. There is, of course, a certain kind of thrill in digging beneath the pallid white corpses of decency to see what strange and mutated life is writhing beneath, just so you can scoop it up and toss it in the faces of your friends. However, it has become rote and formulaic to look at just another story of neoliberal capitalism functioning in its just-as-planned absurdity and pull out the clown horn to signal to your friends how far we’ve fallen and how far left there is to get to hell. Our receptors for rage-flavored dopamine need something more, our haterade must be topped off. So I come to you as a prophet and I offer you a vision of the world to come.
I offer you, PissEarth, 2025.
When one hears the name PissEarth, it may conjure up images of ammonia-scented oceans of fetid yellow water, ebbing and flowing in tide under a bloodmoon in a night-sky bereft of stars, while little islands of human refuse taper across like logs of flotsam and jetsam. The spirituality of such a world is not that far off. The seers who are blind know that they were blessed to have lost their sight. You, too, may find yourself in such a state, like Oedipus staring wistfully at the golden pins after his terrible, horrible, no-good very bad lunch date with the shepherd. Like Oedipus, you’re all tainted motherfuckers.
You must understand, I do not tell you these things to hurt you, but to warn you that this new world wants to hurt you. It will. Oh, believe me it will. PissEarth, 2025 is accelerated humanity, and there is no more room for obsolescent units that think in terms of the abolished humanity. They will not return you for store credit or sit you up in Dorothy McGillicuddy’s Home for Antiques. Anything less than total depravity of your spirit, dispossession of your body, and annihilation of your mind would be a mercy. I say ‘you’ because if ‘you’ are still reading this past the first 150 words, then you are already a member of the abolished.
Everything you hate, everything you fear, everything that disgusts you inside, all of that will come quite naturally to PissEarth, 2025. A totalistic reality wholly assumed with no history. What you see now as the “slippery slope” will simply be the waterslide into a community piss-pool everyone will be baptized in. You will never gawk, never sigh and point at just how far we’ve come. You’ll be amazed at the efficiency of it all when it whittles down the Buddha’s Four Noble Truths down to just the very First one.
“I teach suffering.”
– some Indian who sat under a tree
Let us be clear. There is Clown World, and there is PissEarth. When we speak of Clown World, we speak of the contradictions and absurdities that the present culture and political order are built on. We speak of a president who is able to shoot impotent missiles at a country his own citizens can’t find on a map but who is powerless to stop a caravan of admixtured Aztecs wearing the hand-me-downs that Fat Bob of Fat Bob’s T-Shirt Emporium wasn’t able to sell. We speak of the nation grounding to a halt over whether or not little girls should be exposed to the Halloween parade hopped up on homemade HRT hobbling into their bathrooms. We speak of dozens of men who have lost gainful employment for making OKAY signs in photos because the Morris Dees newsletter fell for a prank from mischievous, anonymous frogs.
When we speak of these clownish things, we speak with a feeling that dragging these things into the light and exposing them for all the world to see will allow the light to shine in and obliterate the vampires with its cleansing sunbeams. These are all flashpoints in the broad and all-encompassing culture war that the West has found itself embroiled in, with each day yielding a brand new skirmish to deploy for, though the war is already lost. When we speak of Clown World, we speak of trying to find a way to shoo out the clowns.
PissEarth is different. PissEarth is the surrender. PissEarth is the occupation. PissEarth is the Morgenthau Plan for your shattered psyche. PissEarth is the moment this has all been building up to. Clown World ain’t nothing on PissEarth, 2025, the real Greatest Show on Earth.
WORLD IS A FUCK
“Get on with it,” I hear you (and the editor) say, “You’ve talked enough, like you’re trying to warn us from hearing out your vision, like no matter how awful it is we aren’t going to look anyway. Just put me in the hurt-box, please. Just show me what sights there are to behold.”
Very well. Behold, PissEarth, 2025.
