Get Up! Stand Up!
Monster Musings. The tradition of all dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living.
There never has been a greater need to swim against the current, to dissent from the norm, to resist and build barricades against this crushing, seemingly all-powerful tide of Crapitalist rubbish that’s engulfing the world at this moment in time. We must really, truly and categorically wake up from this muddle of a collective nightmare of dead traditions, outdated values and rancid doctrines. Else we (not the planet; the planet will be all right in any case) are surely fucked and then is good luck to the rats, the bugs and the tardigrades.
‘ere, ‘ave un po’ di mu’, to encourage your resolve.
Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past. The tradition of all dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living. And just as they seem to be occupied with revolutionizing themselves and things, creating something that did not exist before, precisely in such epochs of revolutionary crisis they anxiously conjure up the spirits of the past to their service, borrowing from them names, battle slogans, and costumes in order to present this new scene in world history in time-honoured disguise and borrowed language.
The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte