Y A-t-il Plus Belle Parodie De L'éthique

When The Real Is No Longer What It Used To Be, Nostalgia Assumes Its Full Meaning.

The Day The World Ends, No One Will Be There, Just As No One Was There When It Began. This Is A Scandal. Such A Scandal For The Human Race That It Is Indeed Capable Collectively, Out Of Spite, Of Hastening The End Of The World By All Means Just So It Can Enjoy The Show.

The Skylines Lit Up At Dead Of Night, The Air-conditioning Systems Cooling Empty Hotels In The Desert And Artificial Light In The Middle Of The Day All Have Something Both Demented And Admirable About Them. The Mindless Luxury Of A Rich Civilization, And Yet Of A Civilization Perhaps As Scared To See The Lights Go Out As Was The Hunter In His Primitive Night.

It Is A World Completely Rotten With Wealth, Power, Senility, Indifference, Puritanism And Mental Hygiene, Poverty And Waste, Technological Futility And Aimless Violence, And Yet I Cannot Help But Feel It Has About It Something Of The Dawning Of The Universe. Perhaps Because The Entire World Continues To Dream Of New York, Even As New York Dominates And Exploits It.

Terrorism, Like Viruses, Is Everywhere. There Is A Global Perfusion Of Terrorism, Which Accompanies Any System Of Domination As Though It Were Its Shadow, Ready To Activate Itself Anywhere, Like A Double Agent.