Ref.: ‘The Seven Noble Truths’    


Q.: Here we are, aren’t we? I can see clearly now what you have been up to. And it is more asinine than
       the Buddha’s foursome. Confronting the potential with impossibility is a derogatory jape. Whoever shall
       profit from disclosing the obvious?
A.: ‘The Seven Noble Truths’ is a lot more than that. It is an epigrammatic battlecry against the psychorganic (!)
       odium of Papa Legba’s beloved dominion. There is a war going on between the Peacock and the Deadhead. 
       This Heptagonia mirrors the antagonists. The ideal and the existent. It is not a goetic mantra but an 
       exigent call to arms against the geo-genetic abomination. We’re not gonna take it any more. Where are my
       twisted sisters? The boys from the towers.
Q.: To me it feels like an awful sublimation rather. Using the threadbare nomenclature for personal defense. 
      Bargaining the costs of your ignoble failure. An expatriate clochard begging for absolution.
A.: The Portfolio I am carrying along my fantastic voyage in a room is the Ratio Studiorum of the Atheist canon.
       Its corpus is richer than the sum of its parts, although each entry is reflective of the whole. It is both a 
       summary and a base of elaboration. One page at a time. I don’t know what it’s good for, how could I? But
       apologize I don’t. Osh knows how I hate my subreality.
Q.: You attribute way too much import to your scholastic reminders. Does it feel empowering to be nobody’s 
       disciple? Just an uncivil servant craving for hunger…
A.: My heteroclite résumé is a sempiternal Almanac. Good for all seasons and for a long time. The eventual 
      carte du jour of the wedding feast. Should replace the big Bible with a little grey handbook by the bedsides 
      of converted hotel chains.
Q.: You can romance the future wilder than St. Paul but haven’t got a clue about the actual present. The 
       gourmand menu you are candidly proposing is to nobody’s taste. It would be undigestible for the guests 
       anyway satiated. You should radically switch your genre if wanted to be heard by the herd.
A.: I gladly would if I could. But unfortunately, I ain’t somebody. I’ve got the right to say almost anything. I
      also would prefer to write scripts of real plays. And get paid for it like Edward Albee. But I’m excluded 
      from the Akropola. I’m working for my own reward. Slave to None.               
Q.: You have a sickening penchant to embellish your predicament. Channeling Becket I suppose. A clumsy 
       impostor unable to inoculate the media. A sham old punk in house arrest. You are toiling with it since 1979 
       but will never produce an authentic diary.
A.: My biopic is written in conditional tense. I’m living in the fifth dimension.
Q.: You are living in misery ever since the project took you over. Every gifted lyricist would have given it up
       long ago. Nothing moves you but primal inertia. Going wherever goaded without destination. Victimized by 
       the truths like anybody else.
A.: I am advancing by the speed of darkness. And albeit motionless, I’ve gotten pretty far. I’ve burned all the 
       bridges, there is no turning back. As long as they let me breathe I’m doing the yellow against the wall.
Q.: The example you keep on setting makes no sense to the creative masses. Any dignified you’re simulating it, 
      the heroic loser is a hideous imago. Osh will spit you out of his mouth.
A.: I’m not setting anything, Gina. I am set. A passive verb fighting his mode. But I never lost control. Albeit a
      loyal dissenter, I’ll never worship the great elocutioner. I’ll beat it with my broken English. Iwa will be 
      dethroned by the phonetic coup. We shall ratify a cult of life.

Q.: Not so fast, 888 contra fate. Your great reset doughtily neglects the rules of equilibrium whereby polarity 
      operates. Man is created in the likeness of physical laws. There ain’t no spirit without matter. Your immature
      antithesis is more recalcitrant than religious dogmatism. Negating the Negator is a Gargantuan undertaking 
      from an amateur reconstructivist. There’s been no precedence for the victory of the lie in the attested
      history of the world so far. The equalizer is invincible. The harder you try, the harder you die. Melek Tawüs
offers no guarantee. The deal is unfair to the core.  
A.: The principles of Oshism are not Pantheistic. We evenly adore them but don’t allow subjugation by any
      arbitrary deity. Nor do we observe planets and nebulas. We disparage the stars and progress against the 
      clock. We are at daggers drawn with the Maker. Enough is enough.
Q.: Gosh, what a riotous mood my lovebird is in tonight! Allons enfants de la Terre. Replace agnostic Atheism 
       with a new Ungod. Better than Ahnenerbe.
A.: An elitarian takeover of Planet Earth would be a sublime double-cross of the cosmic bargain. We are not
      concerned about the ecosystem. Our task is focal and imminent. The world wide war will be waged on 
      peace crime. On compassion and tolerance. We want moral dictatorship and divine terror.
Q.: There we go. The old parrot is back again. Won’t shut up before covered with a blanket. You can make me 
       so disenchanted. You’ll never assimilate to the environmentality (!). You’ll remain boycotted till the end of 
       your sentimental journey. A virtual never-been.
A.: Our Party and Government is firmly rests on the three columns of its electoral progrom (!). Basic income, 
      Martial law and Happy dispatch. The People’s House is built for the Elect.
Q.: Are you stupid or what? You can’t raise anything on discrepancy, contradictator. You are building fictitious
      ruins. And selling them as real estate. A merchant of denials. Sowing new seeds of conflict. 
A.: Counterrevolution demands a perfect defiance of the Zeitgeist. The Zeitgeist is a frozen ghost since Time’s
      passed away. There’s no space left for hesitation. If you still can’t tell right from wrong, go to Hell.
Q.: Not exactly inviting, are you? Your Messianic arrogance is an insult against humanity. You should be a lot 
      more populist if wanna make friends with Übermenschen. 
A.: ‘The Seven Noble Truths’ have no personal implication. They indiscriminately stand for every status quo.
      Even the biggest stars will be extinguished one day. Nobody stays here. We’d better figure out where we 
      wanna go. The way to defeat suffering is to come before it. After death it’s too late.

Q.: You’d better watch your beak, bird of Paradise. You are promoting collective suicide since 1979. Inspired
       by Jim Jones who was a real madcap. Unlike you who’s hardly anything but an aspiring mass murderer of 
       both sides of the aisle. Genocide for the criminals, departure for the innocent. All systems go. An
      unsurmountable idiosyncrasy.
A.: I’m only copying the Revelations like a jobless monk. I would have no fantasy to imagine such nonsense. 
       Everything I’ve ever faked was sheer reproduction. I am a bad actor but the script is undefiled. There is
       a blockbuster movie running in my head. And the Song of Joy over Huxley and Orwell.
Q.: You are suffering of vain hallucinations. Would be diagnosed with apolar disorder by the first psychiatrist
       in three minutes. And locked up for thought crime and hate speech. You don’t wanna know where you
       live. This is the land of the dead here. You must tone down your featherbrained rhetoric. Firework won’t
       seduce the arch enemy. Isn’t our mission to defeat the beast from within? You know nothing about 
       espionage, do you? You are fake to your genome, dilettante traitor.
A.: I don’t know what I don’t know. But I do know Nothing. Let me sleep in the shade of the knowledge-tree.
Q.: Darn you and your apathetic wisdom. You are invoking the fury of Sophia. Nirvana is not enlightenment 
      but mental alienation. You’re only playing the irresponsible vagabond to conceal your dismal lack of 
      education. You never studied or practiced anything. You’ve got no memories to forget. A Bohemian rhapsody.
A.: I’ve been looking for the big picture all my wasted life long. Had no propensity for the details. Now that I 
      found the ultimate metaphor, I wouldn’t give it away for all the opulence of the universe. I am a subverter of 
      the truth. A professor of mendacity. 
Q.: Anything you say. Your naughty self-aggrandizing nauseates me a lot. You’d rebel against anything and with
      a cause what’s less. From opti-pessimist to pessi-optimist. The psychopathetic (!) pendulum of the middle-
      megalo in endless stagnation. A punctuated freak.
A.: We must violently terminate the nefarious abuse of holy energy by the misgoverned societies of political 
usurpation. Perdition is not a mystery. It is our own making as far as I can tell. Ethic cleansing will 
       purify the air better than hemp cars. And the cows won’t go mad at the bulls.
Q.: What is the prime mover of the doleful decline of Western civilization by your opinion? I know you don’t
      know but what would you say if interrogated?
A.: The main repercussion of the death of Time as we knew it is that Hades has lost its emotive credential. People
      don’t fear afterlife like Dante or Brueghel. If god doesn’t exist, so does Satan too. A true materialist denies it
      all and works on internal salvation. The UR, on the contrary, reject all claims of belonging. We demand 
      exemption from the quantitative judgement. The Party is a separator of the wheat from the chaff. 

Q.: That’s brilliant! Now you’re directly quoting. Will it make you a more eligible bachelor? The Bride is not
       what you think. Viking metalheads won’t pick up your plastic Mjölnir. All you can impart is a devious 
       Utopia for vengeful outcasts. It won’t revamp the corrupted soul of the supermen.
A.: The golden rule of Oshist supremacy is a hermetic shield against the egotist decoy. The UR are capitalist 
      individuals with a communist heart and a fascist mind. The infinite trinity of Satan’s Seven Towers. Is that
      too vulgar for virgin whores?
Q.: Your blinded eyes overlook the fields of decay. The order is murder and everybody knows. There is no Bride,
      there is no UR, there is nobody there. It’s you alone on the toilet battling constipation. That’s your bronze 
      statue on the Hauptplatz of New Jerusalem.
A.: Don’t be cruel. We are performing the funniest comedy the Author ever penned. You should be delighted.
Q.: You know what, I’m not. You are a laughing stock of the worst demons and aren’t even ashamed. A rag doll 
      of the operetta. More and more obtuse by every passing day. Defecating bootless shibboleths just because you 
      cannot draft a genuine constitution.
A.: Animal justice don’t need no constitution. The final judgement is a scientific experiment. Bravery commands
       that thou shalt kill the crime. What could be clearer?
Q.: Nothing you can do against degeneracy in a godless culture. Everyone for himself won’t solve the chthonian
       equation. Ayn Rand would disown you if she were your grandmother. 
A.: Our fifth column are the meshuga of all nations. The O.S.P. constitutes no danger to corporate America. 
      The Oshist crusade’s main target is the Christian-Marxist Alliance. The supersonic youth is ready for the 
       rapture. But first we cleanse the streets of Sebastopol.
Q.: Where exactly is drawn the dividing line of the final verdict? You told me that before but I forgot it.
A.: The dividing line is horizontally drawn, of course. Across the midst of the ever-augmenting vertical 
       severances. Things like race, class, nation, family and so forth. Sex, for example. The judgement is
       individual-relative and extremely circumstantial. As subjective as can be. It is based on the Ten Commandos’ 
       aesthethical (!) principles solely. A lot of mercy’s implied. The aura will save your skin whatever’s your 
       hue or tongue. The few are amongst us. Traitors to the Earth unite!
Q.: Thus spoke der Papagei. Someone call 9-1-1 to take him away. That’s why you cannot go any public, mein
       Schatz. You’d be lynched sooner than Joe Rose. And with a reason, what’s more. You’re completely ignorant
       of the art of temptation. Your moonlight serenade would make your lady run for the urinal.
A.: All the world plays the actor, why shouldn’t I? The role has found me and I can’t get rid of it. That I cannot 
      do it is not my fault. I can’t be tamed but I adore the part. Wouldn’t change it for Kali.   
Q.: The world is yearning for more than a new style, sweetheart. How to reverse the seven ages of the mortal
      man is the issue. How to fly away on lucid wings. You’ve got all the candies for the child. Why you have to
      talk about holocaust all the time? It’s not gonna be alright, mark my word.
A.: I’m not an expedient guy. Consideration is none of my probities. Some things are brighter than the Sun.
      Need no cloudy extenuation. We have to defeat the subhumanist forces. Interdict the liberal plague of
      democratic socialism. I am member number one of the Overnazi Front. The well-earned wrath of Osh.
      Who is with me?