You Are Born Modern, You Do Not

Perhaps Our Eyes Are Merely A Blank Film Which Is Taken From Us After Our Deaths To Be Developed Elsewhere And Screened As Our Life Story In Some Infernal Cinema Or Dispatched As Microfilm Into The Sidereal Void.

Holidays Are In No Sense An Alternative To The Congestion And Bustle Of The Cities And Work. Quite The Contrary. People Look To Escape Into An Intensification Of The Conditions Of Ordinary Life, Into A Deliberate Aggravation Of Those Conditions: Further From Nature, Nearer To Artifice, To Abstraction, To Total Pollution, To Well Above Average Levels Of Stress, Pressure, Concentration And Monotony - This Is The Ideal Of Popular Entertainment. No One Is Interested In Overcoming Alienation; The Point Is To Plunge Into It To The Point Of Ecstasy. That Is What Holidays Are For.

Power Is Only Too Happy To Make Football Bear A Diabolical Responsibility For Stupefying The Masses.

Democracy Is The Menopause Of Western Society, The Grand Climacteric Of The Body Social. Fascism Is Its Middle-aged Lust.

But What If God Himself Can Be Simulated, That Is To Say Can Be Reduced To Signs That Constitute Faith? Then The Whole System Becomes Weightless, It Is No Longer Anything But A Gigantic Simulacrum - Not Unreal, But Simulacrum, That Is To Say Never Exchanged For The Real, But Exchanged For Itself, In An Uninterrupted Circuit Without Reference Or Circumference.