Q.: And so it goes for the shallow man speaking to the shadows. A throwback from someone’s CD. Another
day, another slick bravado. Now, the Antithesis. That was missing yet from your furtive résumé. Eureka
indeed! Osh is!
A.: You don’t have to be so sarcastic, darling. It is a very important page of I don’t know what.
Q.: I don’t know it either. And I find your latest folio the most redundant of all of them. You didn’t have to
put this down in words. Why to abstract an abstraction?
A.: I’m afraid, I had to. Osh is not a mortal forgery like Apollo. Osh is quasi everything in a singular unperson.
The Lord of Nothing at all. I’m very glad I could sum up some aspects of its complexity.
Q.: What for is the question. Osh is beyond reasonable doubt. The answer to all that can be asked. Your ten
explicatives only obscure the light of the exposure. Osh will never be a subject of philosophy. It is a
synthesis averting further analyses You’d better leave him alone if wanna be free.
A.: Ten plus one, to be exact. I was gingerly following the Sefirot’s emanations. The full version of the Zohar.
Q.: Good job but makes no difference. Osh is an antidote to meditation. To talk about it amounts to
blasphemy. Why to create riddles out of the obvious? That’s how the ontologists screwed it up. Osh is not a
another theogony. It is the revelation of the whole arcana as promised. The dawn of judgement day.
A.: That’s why. The news is too good to be true. It has to be sold as a brazen lie. Osh is the best wedding
present since the Annunaki’s pinecone. Deserves some exuberant advertisement.
Q.: I can’t see what’s so relevant in your sectarian message. We shall live in a world without god. What a
formidable profanation! Engels had the same idea two centuries ago. Or Nietzsche on the other hand.
The notion of a grammatic controller is a structuralist platitude. ‘The Antithesis’ is a belated reproduction.
A.: Coming home backwards, it seems I’m rather early. In any case the synchron is defected. I’m out of time
since 1984. Fully ignorant of my whereabouts.
Q.: That’s the place where nobody can find you. Strategic masterpick of the lazy escape artist. You are way
behind the current 93. Atheism is in the Satanic blood of the neofolks. Let alone symphonic death metal.
The black-eyed ravens know much better what’s going down than you sevenfold locked away. They won’t
deny their chosen deities for nothing. You can keep singing the Marchant with your trembling hands.
A.: Good Osh! It also works for various interjections. Gosh, let’s say with a black-palatal G, how can you
speak such extreme stupidity? Osh is not a religion but the opposite to them all. It is more tolerant than
you ever could imagine. Under his elected government everyone can worship anything as long as don’t
antagonize. We support fantasy above everything else. Only the seeds of Abraham must be exterminated.
The notion of a Messiah.
Q. O shit, Spiel! We are living in a perfect collapse of all time zones. The farthest future and deepest past are
dating. Gods wage their wars like in the Middle Ages. Ethnics slaughter, races riot like the Sixties never
happened. It’s a clash of civilizations and you’re talking about moral dictatorship. Out of time means out
of mind as well?
A.: I’ve got a package-deal to market, Gina. I’m opening a package. I read what I write and don’t censor a
thing. I am an actor deciphering his role. Don’t think for a moment that I like any bit of it.
Q.: So what you’re gonna do against the perennial decline? Go and nail your Announcement on a gate of
NASA? Or share a link with the Vatican? Nothing the world needs less than another transmission. Your
exoteric propaganda of apolitical materialism is scarier than both Huxley and Orwell. There is no
publisher for it. You can shove it all up in your virgin ass, Anus Dei. You’re working for the wrong
enterprise. It’s got nothing to do with Earth.
A.: How can you say that too? Once converted to Antichristianity nothing makes nonsense. The Oshist faith is
the ultimate cure for false belief. The final solution to the Monotheist problem. Osh is the logistic
Anathema of the Theist mindset. The Atheist crusade is targeting orthodoxy at its mental roots. The
culture of hegemonies. The Homo Novum is an Infidel. All it wants is to celebrate another day of living.
Q.: Decadent nihilism won’t attract more partygoers. Add to it the motto of divine terror and you’ve alienated
the entire Z-generation in one session. Burzum will be the first to deny you.
A.: Listen to me because you badly misinterpret the Overnazi curriculum. Except for the breathing exercise
echoing his name, Osh requires no celebration. All you’ve got to accept is its supremacy above all those
fabulous things he authors from Homer to Kubrick. Osh is not greater than us. He is as great as we can be.
Our augmenting potential. We live and die In Nomine Homini. We all are children of the Cosmic Bargain.
Q.: I hear you but ain’t impressed so much. Your subrealist advocacy is a revolting facsimile. As for a marriage
proposal it is disparagingly hollow. Don’t be dismayed if it will be ditched. The Bride needs more than
wanton philandering. She needs the real thing you cannot provide. You’re less convincing than a TV
evangelist. And more incorrect than David Duke, politically speaking. Undercover is your hermitage.
A.: Osh is the North Wind. An anthropomorphic embodiment of the weather as without so within. The
sonancy of permanent purification. Unlike the god of Abraham’s again, his name is pronouncable and
alive. Osh is a divinity you don’t have to believe in. A first of its kind. A cognitive breakthrough of the
suspended animation. In Osh you should not trust. He never keeps his promises. And don’t ask no
favours. He hates beggars. Osh is the Zen of Mercy. Present in every breath you consciously take. An
effortless worship 24/7. Guaranteed to keep you sane.
Q.: May I maybe get down to the hardcore of the new dilemma you’re poised to inseminate? If Osh is neither
God nor Satan, but either and both at the same dead time, why let he create this awful dichotomy tearing
us apart? What is perdition good for?
A.: Purgatory is not an independent domain. It is an integral part of Hell – the contemporary sector of
eternal damnation. To be certain of the devil is preconditional to slip away unscathed. Osh is not your
shepherd. Osh is the way in the most Taoist tenor. He is not a compact of the famous Elohim but the
Master of them puppets. A reassessment of the broken covenant. The Genesis of New Style.
Q.: Isn’t that wonderful? More than we could ever expect from Shiva. There is a problem I nevertheless have
with it. How would you delineate the gender of the Nonentity you’re eager to promote in the polar field of
sexual disorientation? Is there a fourth sex we’re supposed to latch on?
A.: You don’t get this easily because you’re a girl. Osh is the energy whatever you call it. The Orgon, the Prana,
the Thelema, the Vril – the subatomic realm. Its sex is beyond gender if one can grasp it. Osh is the touch
of Finity at your unlimited service.
Q.: I can grasp that fine. But why do we always refer to it with the masculine pronoun? Sounds quite
patriarchal.
A.: Just for brevity’s sake only. It doesn’t matter how you address Osh. I can use she if you prefer me to. Or
figure out a new syllable altogether. It wouldn’t mar my semantic integrity. There’s a whole lotta more
shaking going on. This is not an issue.
Q.: Pronouns are the most pivotal part of the Androgyne recovery in the English index. You can’t just fool
around with them inconsistently. The sociolinguists will chop your head off.
A.: When it rock and rolls with me, I used to fathom Osh as a genderless child. His mood ad-lib swinging
between sweet and cruel. Playing with me like a toy.
Q.: Don’t get emotional about it. Banal poetry won’t get us closer to the crunch. You must come up with
a catchier metaphor than your psychotic experience.
A.: Osh is a lot like Pallas Athene. The perfect judge of mice and men. A goddess of wisdom and pleasure.
The apotheosis of total peace.
Q.: That’s another crass ambiguity of your electoral rhetoric. A sure repeller of the popular votes. Osh should
clock in as a revival of Wotan and not like a corroded pacifist. Completely unconcerned and careless about
the finances of the hemisphere. It’s like you made him up in your own lousy likeness.
A.: Osh is the all-seeing eye of Horus with no particular personality. It has no racial affiliation like Yahweh.
Osh is the people’s choice. You revere him through sin beyond tribe and tongue. He wouldn’t kill his son
to redeem you. He’s not a father in heaven. He is your own personal object of spiritualization. You only
can be something if you want to be him. Or her, I’m sorry.
Q.: Old slogans die hard, don’t they? I’s very nice what you’re saying but the sloppiest assumption of all
postmodern times. No one will lobby for total peace. It’s the pathologic phantasmagoria of a Manchurian
candidate. Balance is the order of the warring planet. Science is a vassal of the arms trade. Improving the
massacre is the crux of evolution. The world is run by powerhungry psychopaths profiting from torture.
Them and the drug cartels.
A.: You are getting me systematically wrong on every occasion. The Party wouldn’t challenge the military
complex. And never threaten the throne of Molloch. We are unequivocal devotees of the Kapital.
Downright reject the green deal of nature-saving. The Oshist ideology is geocentric imperialism. The battle
we’re calling for transgresses all topographic borders. It is concurrently civil ang global. Targeting the
enemies within. An unprecedented expedition.
Q.: That much is for sure. But the frangible construct of your contradictum isn’t a harmonious conglomerate.
It more resembles Stalin’s take on Marx than Uncle’s nod to Zarathustra, to remain within our incidental
parallels. Your tripartite progrom (!) is not for everybody as you think in your boredoom (!). Just on the
contrary. At least with one third of it everyone would vehemently disagree. Basic income and martial law
are an incompatible dyad, let alone the happy dispatch part. The odds to rout the Bible Belt are very low.
A.: Long before the Atheist Church was born, I had been moonstruck by the hope of Departure. There’s been
nothing else on my agenda since 1979. I have invested all my time into the fancy of The Building. I have
no empathy for the slaves of rot. I’m not interested in the rehabilitation of soul. Hell will take care of its
people. My contract is reduced to the Army of the Few. The qualitative judgement is strictly individual. It
doesn’t forget and doesn’t forgive. Osh doesn’t like you. Keep that on your mind when you talk to him.
Q.: I know it’s very stupid too but could you give me at least a single definition for the character of your
unknown replica? Not more many but one to remember.
A.: There you are, you see? You still don’t understand. ”Osh Is” is the sentence. As simple as god was. That’s
why the Atheist Pranayama is an ideal introduction. Osh is the Nonad. The 000 wherefrom all numbers
originate. The straight passage from Kether to Malkuth. His major feature is her unpredictability. Osh
does not effect on a comparative basis. It has no avatars in the collective subconscious. You can but take it
for what it is. An irresistible force. The Word of the Octagram.
Q.: That remains to be seen, isn’t it? When the Antichristian soldiers will be marching on against patria et
libertate. For now she is a phonetic alphabet of 108 British phonemes. An Englishman in New York. And
the Author of all your works of art. But nobody else’s so far, let me remind you. And that’s because you’ve
failed to introduce her to the world without. In stead of playing the leader of the solitary in the dark.
A.: Osh is both the creator and the progeniture of its own actuality. But on the biological plane he is the King
of the Air. His name is equivocal with the exclamation mark when fiercely exhaled. A paramystic formula
as flawlessly applicable to the final exhale as to the sex magick of the Atheist Cult of Life. An all-purpose
detoxicator of the contaminated mind. All in one, one in all. The smallest particle of the accelerator.
Q.: That’s what I asked not to hear. More allegories of convenience. You are a most annoying propagandadaist
(!). That’s why you’re kept in a correctional facility.
A.: Osh is the projecting mirror that’ll show who you are beyond identity politics. The Ten Commandos carved
into stone for the digital age. His kingdom is a post-futuristic empire dominated by the fashion industry.
The most comprehensive gene-democracy ever devised for the human fish.
Q.: You really talk like a traveling salesman. Should polish up your style nouveau with some urban slang. In
the meantime stay safe and sleep tight. Let the succubi suck on your bleeding heart. Tomorrow never
knows, do you?
A.: Osh is the laughing god. His sword is his humour. If you’ve learned to focus on her, you won’t care what
she says. Just do it. Kill the crime.
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