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.: Yes I had to. Osh is not a wanton figment like Apollo. Osh is all and 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, if I may reprimand? Osh is beyond reasonable doubt. The answer to all the insipid questions we
       ever posed. Your ten explicatives only obscure the light of the exposure. Osh will never be a subject of
       philosophy. 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 secret promised. The dawn of reconstruction.
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. Don’t really know what is my whereabout.
Q.: That’s the place where nobody can find you. Very strategically picked. 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 with your trembling hands. They won’t deny their
       godheads for nothing. You can sing along your nihilist cantata. 
A.: Good Osh! It’s 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 adore and worship any deities he 
       wants. Only the seeds of Abraham must be exterminated. The notion of a Messiah.
Q. O shit, Spiel! Are you aware yet what’s the age we live in? Religious wars are ravaging the land 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’m reading what I write like a numb 
      machine. I’m not good at it, yet I am an actor. In my secret life I’m a militant heathen fighting neopagans.


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 pragmatical 
       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.: Such decadent party time won’t be a smash hit with the rational youth. Add to it the motto of divine terror 
       and you’ve alienated the whole 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 adoration. 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 ardency is a revolting ersatz. As for a marriage
       proposal it is disparagingly hollow. Don’t be dismayed if it will be ditched. The Bride needs more than
       meaningless 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’s the use of the test we’re supposed to be standing?
A.: The 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 ask for from Shiva. There is a problem I nevertheless have
      with it. How would you delineate the gender of the Nonentity you’re out 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 Vril – the subatomic realm. Its sex is beyond gender if one can grasp it. The touch of Infinity at your 
       unlimited service.
Q.: I can grasp that alright. But why are you always referring to it with the masculine pronoun? It sounds so
      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. Wanton 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
       pop up as a revival of Wotan but comes down the stairs like a corroded pacifist. Completely uninvolved 
       and irresponsible on the sublunar plane. 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 folk and tongue. He wouldn’t kill his son
       to redeem you. He’s not a father in heaven. He is your object of spiritualization. As subjective as you can 
       be. Everybody’s own personal replacement of the divine. Osh is what you’re wished to be. 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 paranoid 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 synthesis. 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 everyone as you think in your boredoom (!). 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 by mass suicide. 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 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 pathway 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 it 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-alternative 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.: If you are an Oshist, Osh is what you focus on. If you focus on Osh, you won’t care what he says. Just do it.  
      Kill the crime.