El Topo

When a man buries a pole in the sand, he automatically creates a sundial and begins to mark time. To begin marking time is to begin creating a culture.

“The mole is an animal that digs tunnels underground searching for the sun. Sometimes his journey leads him to the surface. When he looks at the sun, he is blinded.”

In the version according to Jodorowsky, the midnight-movie magus, comic-book artist and tarot enthusiast influenced by Sergio Leone, Tod Browning and Luis Buñuel, El Topo is a bizarre. trip festival of occult psychedelia, visuals, nude dancing and violence. Shot on a fairly large budget in Mexico, It began its American existence as an underground cult object, playing midnight shows in New York for six months.

El Topo consists of two distinct parts united by the central role played by the film’s eponymous character. In the first part, he appears in a bizarre Zorro-like guise, dressed in a slightly homoerotic black leather cowboy suit and hat. The West is peopled largely with corpses of men and animals and the survivors are gross, obscene caricatures who follow phony gospel-mongers and practice slavery. After the death of his first incarnation, he emerges seated in a Lotus position, his hair and beard dyed in white, his eyes made-up with black eye-liner.

Jodorowsky lifts his symbols and mythologies from everywhere: Christianity, Zen, discount-store black magic. He makes not the slightest attempt to use them so they sort out into a single logical significance. Instead, they’re employed in a shifting way, casting light on life and death, redemption and rebirth, myth and religion, jealousy and revenge, violence and pacifism, heroism and villainy, the real and the imaginary, the rational and the irrational, rampant egocentrism and spiritual salvation (including a phallic­-shaped, circumcised boulder among the never-ending dunes that ejaculates life-giving water and semen when a woman caresses it), Buddhist koans, references to the Bible and to Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha,

Aesthetics

El Topo is and “Acid western” both a Western and an “Eastern,” a drama and a comedy, a profound allegorical meditation and a slapstick farce. It’s an “art house masterpiece that undermines the Western’s dichotomy between the good and bad.

The real drama was not whether the “Injuns,” or mobsters, or delinquents, or Reds would destroy the American way of life — because they couldn’t — but rather, who was going stop them, the cops or the docs, the soldiers or the scientists? And by what means, force or persuasion?

Peter Biskind

The film has also an undercurrent of absurdity, as if each meaning, once analysed, would prove to contain its own contradiction. No child can wholly discard one parent for the other, no rational education neglects the value of playthings, no rider travels naked if there’s a long journey ahead. The film tells us that the mole is a creature which digs through the earth in search of the sun, only to be blinded when it comes to the surface, but it just not true.

Surrealism

With its bizarre characters and violent, bloody events, use of maimed and dwarf performers, and heavy doses of Christian iconography, Eastern philosophy, sexual symbolism, and Freudian imagery, the film fits the Comte de Lautréamont’s contradictory surrealist metaphor of “the chance encounter, on a dissecting table, of a sewing machine and an umbrella.” Indeed, an umbrella figures prominently in El Topo’s opening scene, as it does in the work of Magritte.

“The Surrealists went prospecting for the latent meaning of movies, “the sexual spot” that heralded the return of the repressed. Epicureans of detritus, they uncovered treasurers of poetry and subversion in the bargain basement of cinema.”

Salvador Dali, René Magritte, and Max Ernst in painting; Louis Aragon and Lautréamont in poetry, André Breton’s Manifesto, and surrealism’s cinematic acolytes, Luis BuñueL. Even using that stringent definition, El Topo is clearly in the surreal tradition.

VIOLENCE

Following the degree of violence within the movie, such as duels, violent subjugations, rapes and bizarre symbolic ceremonials removed from the superficial conventions of modern existence we can see that Jodorowsky’s surrealism is not of the Bretonian type, however, but bears a resemblance to the work of Antonin Artaud, a member of the original Surrealist group who was expelled after opposing the movement’s political association with the French Communist Party.

As the name of his manifesto suggests (‘The Theatre of Cruelty’), Artaud assigned cruelty a fundamental role in the newly envisaged art:

“Without an element of cruelty at the foundation of every spectacle, the theater is not possible”

PART I

Jodorowsky stars as the black-clad horseman, cousin to the journeys in Tolkien, “Stranger in a Strange Land,” “Easy Rider,” certainly “2001,” and most obviously to the goalless, introspective missions of Eastwood’s Man with No Name. Riding through the desert with his son Brontis, who is completely naked except for his hat symbolizing the natural state protected by the power of the father underlining the film’s Freudian theme of self-actualisation through parricide.

El Topo carries not a lance but an umbrella, while the diminutive Sancho Panza behind is clutching a teddy-bear and a framed picture of his mother. It is time, the boy is told, for childish things like toys and mothers to be put away and for him to become a man. Father plays a flute for the burial, and they ride off to meet the world, umbrella still hovering bat-like above them

El Topo sweeps grandly on its way. The child’s first lesson is a vision of hell, a scrubby Mexican street after a massacre, bodies everywhere, disembowelled animals, vast pools of blood from which strange colours of sunlight are reflected, men hanging like sides of meat, and an electronic cacophony of scavengers on the soundtrack. The child learns either pity or pragmatism, take your choice, when handed a pistol to finish off a dying man, and is then carted off to learn the lesson of vengeance as his father tracks down the bandits responsible.

El Topo encounters three sexually deprived thugs given to raping shoes, lizards etc. After performing obscene acts on the powerless Franciscans, including stripping them of their clothes and riding on their backs while spanking them with cactus plants, the four thugs notice a beautiful woman fetching water from a near-by well.

They surround her and start performing wild sexual gestures. But a single sentence pronounced by the woman, her name is Mara– “the colonel said he’d kill anyone who touches her” – suffices to drive utter horror and submission into them, demonstrating that they are, after all, subjected to a higher force, whose ruthless efficiency is enforced through the mere mentioning of a name.

Once again, Jodorowosky opts for a monotonous organ melody to accompany the scene of a ritual that stands between a sacred ceremony and a cheap mime show.

The woman enters a cone-shaped brick structure in which we see the colonel, dressed in nothing but red boxer-shorts, lying on a mat on the floor. He seems like a helpless baby, relying on the physical assistance of the woman to walk across the room, but her absolutely subservient position is demonstrated by her kissing the feet of the colonel.

The arrogant might of the colonel seems to grow as his dressing up is progressing to the final touches of eyeliner, wig and lipstick representing an uncanny hybrid between holiness and raw power, is symbolized in a scene in which the half-dressed colonel stands underneath a large Crucifixion.

EL TOPO AS MULTI-RELIGIOUS FIGURE

El Topo is a religiously hybrid figure. At different stages of the film, he pronounces words or carries out actions that could be associated with a variety of religious traditions, but this fluidity should not be regarded as an indication of evolution. The first explicitly religious statement El Topo makes in the movie is his response to the defeated colonel’s question “Who are you to judge me?” the bandit leader asks, confronting his Nemesis.

El Topo, it seems, considers himself to be God. Although it is tempting to link this statement to the Old Testament imagery of El Topo’s subsequent religious transformations, in the interview Jodorowsky points out that the source of this dialogue is to be found in the Sufi poet Al Hallaj.

SUFISM

This revered Islamic mystic was executed by the authorities for infamously pronouncing the same words as El Topo, but his followers recognized that Al Hallaj had reached a state of such spiritual perfection that God himself was speaking through him.

El Topo, assisted by the colonel’s thugs who have lost any respect or fear of him, removes their leader’s toupee, and then strips his entire costume in a single comical move, thus reducing him to the state in which he was originally seen lying on the floor of the temple. In an act of ultimate humiliation he castrates the colonel, who then runs off and shoots himself in shame. The colonel’s subjugated wife runs after El Topo, pushing his son to the side.

After El Topo abandons his son Brontis to the Franciscans by telling him that this will teach him not to depend on anyone. He is seen instantaneously changed into a Franciscan robe, indicating his transformation into an individual protected by but also subservient to a higher symbolical order embodied also in a dark enclosed space.

THE FOUR MASTERS

She informs him that she will only love him if he succeeds in killing the four masters of the desert. They have each reached mystical perfection in gunslinging which leads El Topo to try and defeat each of them by any means possible.

El Topo finds water in the desert by shooting the top off a rock, and he finds food by digging up turtles’ eggs and bring forth a source of water from a stone. The imagery is certainly biblical, yet the location of the eggs under Mara’s spread legs and the sprout of water from a phallic stone add certain sexual undertones.

At one point, Mara touches a phallic boulder and it magically spews out semen and life-giving water.

“The stone is an exact replica of my own penis. That’s El Topo’s sex!”

He bestows an orgasm upon her. El Topo’s ritual orgasmic rape of Mara, after which she is able to find eggs herself and drinks water from a penis-shaped stone, definitively takes the events outside of traditional Christianity and into the arena of fertility cults.

After a while she too becomes capable of these homely miracles.

HELENISTIC

The very idea of a journey to face the Four Masters of the desert can be seen as an original combination of Hellenistic (Jodorowsky points out the significance of Alexander the Great and the Odyssey) encountering lions, lambs and white rabbits.

These four Masters, a splendid quartet of vaguely Taoist eccentrics, have to be defeated by a succession of tricks. These four meetings involve wise and mystical dialogues between the Masters and El Topo: “The deeper you fall, the higher you get”; “Perfection is losing yourself’; “To lose, you must love”; and “Too much perfection is a mistake.” In violent Sam Peckinpah fashion. He buries one rival under a mound of dead rabbits.

THE FIRST MASTER: HINDU

The First Master is a quicker draw than El Topo, but our hero tricks him and shoots him dead. Mara then kills The Double Man — two men, one without arms, on the bottom, and the other, without legs, strapped on top — the First Master’s servant.

Soon afterwards, Mara sees her reflection in a pool and, like Narcissus, falls in love with herself. She even looks at herself in a mirror while making love to El Topo. El Topo shoots the mirror and puts the broken glass in his pocket.

After his first victory, El Topo and Mara meet a second woman, a whip-cracking, horse-riding lesbian dressed in black, with a husky male voice, who guides them to each new rendezvous.

THE SECOND MASTER

As part of his scheme to defeat the Second Master, who is preoccupied with his mother, El Topo places the broken glass beneath her foot. When she cries out in pain, the Second Master is distracted and El Topo kills him. He takes a copper ashtray this Master made and puts it under his shirt.

THE THIRD MASTER: PRE-COLUMBIAN

Jodorowsky also demonstrates a reverence for pre-Columbian American civilizations:

“The Third Master is a Mexican Master. In every Western ever made, the Mexican is always the outlaw, the bad guy. In my picture, the Mexican is a very wonderful man, because Mexico has a very wonderful culture.”

Later, the Third Master shoots El Topo in the heart, but the bullet hits the ashtray and El Topo slays that Master too.

THE FOURTH MASTER: ZEN

The Fourth Master catches El Topo’s bullets with a butterfly net and flings them back at him. To show how unimportant death is, he takes El Topo’s gun and shoots himself dead.

After completing his mission, our hero is crazy with guilt about his killings, so he destroys his gun and retraces his journey as if to do penance. However, as he approaches the two women, Mara and El Topo’s uncanny double who joined him in the course of his journey who have bonded with each other, he learns that they do not approve of him anymore:

At this point, he is challenged to a duel by the Woman in Black. He refuses to fight her and is shot four times in the places of Jesus’ wounds. Mara fires the fifth shot, riding off with the Woman in Black in an erotic embrace.

PART 2

The second half of the film takes place twenty years later.

After sucking on a hallucinogenic beetle and undergoing a symbolic rebirth, El Topo awakes in a community of dwarves and deformed outcasts who live underground. These mutants, worthy of Todd Browning’s Freaks, believe El Topo is some kind of god.

Having survived his redemptive execution, El Topo has cast off his black leather chaps and guns and become “reborn” as an unarmed monkish-looking figure in pale-­colored Buddhist robes and with a shaved head. They inform him that they have been put there by the townspeople many years ago, leading to their deformations through incestuous reproduction. They believe that he will free them one day.

More specifically the contrast between enclosed, dark, underground areas associated with the recesses of the human mind on the one hand and the infinite extension of the naked, barren and eternally sun-lit desert on the other. Although El Topo is locked in a brutal and permanent struggle with his environment, it is clear that the location of the ultimate battle is within his own head – just like for the mole.

He decides to liberate the cave dwellers by raising money to buy dynamite and thereby help them escape from their subterranean cavern. Eventually, a tunnel is dug (hence the title, El Topo ) and the cave people flee their prison and go into town. Seeking atonement for his wasted past life and becomes a clown begging for money.

He performs little skits (including making love in public) with one of the dwarf women (who becomes his wife) for the amusement of the depraved and sadistic citizens of a nearby Old West town, ruled by a corrupt church, whose icon is the-eye-in-the­-pyramid symbol found on the back of the dollar bill, part of the Great Seal of the United States.

“I’ll tell you a little secret, but don’t tell anybody. It’s on the dollar bill. I think it’s a perversion of knowledge. Because if you take a sacred symbol of Atlantis, or whatever, and put it on the dollar, this symbol becomes a very terrible symbol: an economic symbol. But I used it in the film as a symbol of guilt: the eye says: ‘You are guilty, you are guilty’. Yes. A guilty society.”

GUILT

The inhabitants of the town participate in a perverted collective delusion justified by the authority of the symbol. The religious ceremony of this institution can be read as a metaphor of the moral bankruptcy of spiritual institutions in a society dominated by hypocrisy.

Soon, a new young priest comes to town, a cleric who joins his parishioners in games of Russian roulette in search of “miracles.” The ‘believers’ are ecstatic in their repetition of ‘God will protect us’ until the priest starts handing out a revolver for a game of Russian roulette. The new pastor is the son El Topo abandoned many years before. The young man now wants to kill his long-lost father but decides to postpone his revenge until the underground dwellers are freed.

Several ‘believers’ take the gun and attempt to shoot themselves, but every time they emerge victorious, followed by the enthusiastic response of the audience — “A miracle”

The game ends tragically with a little boy grabbing the gun and shooting himself, after which the crowd disperses in panic and the priest states that “the circus is over”. Brontis pulls down the sheet with the eye symbol, revealing a cross behind it.

Finally the village promptly massacre all of El Topo’s friends in a scene that “rhymes” with the early scene riding through a bloody town. He is repeatedly shot himself, but he is not harmed by the bullets. Ignoring his wounds, he returns to his vengeful gunslinger ways and annihilates many of the perpetrators, while the rest flee for their lives.

He must also face his son again, who is now a grown man. Brontis emerges dressed in El Topo’s original Zorro-suit. Clothing thus indicates the symbolic order of meaning and power in which the subject operates, a crucial element without which the individual is ultimately reduced to impotence.

At the end of his journey, dressed like a Buddhist monk, Jodorowsky douses himself with gasoline and sets himself on fire. The image is similar to those Buddhist monks protesting the war.

El Topo’s son and dwarf girlfriend survive the bloodbath and make a grave for his remains, which becomes a beehive. The dwarf girlfriend gives birth to a child at the same time as El Topo’s death, and the son, now dressed in El Topo’s gunfighter duds, the dwarf lady, and the infant ride off on a horse in the same way that El Topo and his son did at the beginning of the film.

It’s not so much a full circle as a spiral, in keeping with Jodorowsky’s affection for the theories of Gurdjieff. Thus, the first half of the movie resembles a Spaghetti Western, albeit a surreal one, while the second act is a love story of redemption, rebirth, and re-death.

MYSTICISM

Jodorowsky himself stated that “El Topo is a library … of all the books I love. He also acknowledged the influence of Jean-Luc Godard, Luis Buñuel, Sergio Leone, Erich von Stroheim, and Buster Keaton. As such, it is a staggeringly visionary work that “samples” dozens of often paradoxical artistic inspirations: Zen, Eisenstein and pantomime (Jodorowsky studied with Marcel Marceau), Antonin Artaud and Russ Meyer, Beckett’s Theater of the Absurd, Jean Cocteau’s surrealism, and MAgic SHows. Moreover, El Topo is part Jean-Paul Sartre, C. G. Jung, Wilhelm Reich, Friedrich Nietzsche, and Lao-Tzu. It uses both the Old Testament and the New Testament.

For some viewers, there are far too many philosophical references, Jungian and religious symbols, parables, geometric configurations, epigrams, in-jokes, and abstruse images.

You can ask me about any symbol you like. I know the meaning of every symbol there is. So do you, because the meaning of every symbol is recorded in your brain cells.

What unites all of Jodorowsky’s religions is their esoteric nature, which is contrasted to the visceral presence of earthly institutions.

PSYCHEDELIC DRUGS

I ask of film what most North Americans ask from psychedelic drugs. The difference being that when one creates a psychedelic film, he need not create a film that shows the visions of a person who has taken a pill; rather, he needs to manufacture the pill.

More importantly than that, however, Jodorowsky points out that the movie is not the representation of a psychedelic experience, but rather the pill that would create a psychedelic experience in the viewer. The structure of the film acts as that element of external stimuli that, along with sensual and intellectual interpretative mechanisms of the human mind, combine to create the psychedelic experience of watching El Topo.

INPRINTS

“I believe that each image of the film is an imprint. I can’t give the entire body. You have to form it. Each film must be a sample of the entire universe, as each grain of sand is a sample of the entire beach.”

THE MOTHER

The film begins with Brontis’s ceremonial entrance to adulthood, marked by El Topo’s request to dig his teddy bear and the image of his mother in the sand. In the subsequent shot, we see El Topo and Brontis riding off in the background, behind a close-up of the mother’s photograph only half-buried in the sand, thus indicating that Brontis’s suppression of his mother’s memory has only been semi-successful.

A) THE SECOND MASTER

The Second Master, who initially defeats El Topo by shooting his revolver from his hand, explains that the cause of his defeat is El Topo’s self-obsession: “You shoot to find yourself, I do it to shoot. Perfection is to lose yourself, and to lose yourself you need to love.” The Second Master adds that he has succeeded in dissolving his ego by completely submitting his self to his mother: “What I do and say is ordered and blessed by her. I hate all that is mine, because it distances me from her divine presence.”

However, the Second Master’s obsession with his mother is also the cause of his downfall, as El Topo secretly throws shards of a broken mirror in front of the mother’s feet. Tending to her injury, the Second Master forgets about El Topo, enabling El Topo to shoot him from behind.

B) THE OLD WOMAN

After El Topo’s reincarnation in the cave, he is led to a very old woman. He participates in a ceremony in which the old woman and El Topo suck on a scorpion-like insect, followed by a scene in which we see him emerging from the old woman’s womb.

ETERNAL RETURN

And what does it all mean?

In so much as it means anything, it is about that circular, spiralling journey. In his end is his beginning, and his son’s beginning. El Topo is ultimately engaged in a battle without an end:

When you struggle internally in life, and you triumph and are freed from your problems, you become faced with a greater problem: the problem of the entire universe. Right? In other words, you are never liberated from the weight. You increase it. When a mystic reaches a god, he realizes that there is a greater god. And he has to work and work. It’s endless. El Topo is endless.”

It is possible to imagine an endless chain of El Topo’s reincarnations, inevitably ending in his realization of the futility of his efforts. The universe whose imprint El Topo represents is an endless spiral in which enlightenment consists in the realization of the essence as a constant flux rather than a particular stable state of mind or external affairs.

ARTAUD

Artaud insisted on the superiority of the theatre for the achievement of the effects he envisaged. In ‘The Theater of Cruelty there is a wider Surrealist concern with a fundamental reformation of art in general, which is perceived as decadent and lacking in true spiritual energy.

Jodorowsky’s work, in accordance with Artaud’s ideas, is far removed from psychology and concrete politics, aiming instead to use art to encourage a spiritual engagement with the underground forces of which would result in an alchemical conception of enlightenment as a continuous conversion of darkness into light.

“A mass audience that trembles at train wrecks, that is familiar with earthquakes, plague, revolution, war, that is sensitive to the disorderly throes of love, provided these ideas do not come to them by way of costumes and an overreified language which belong to dead ages, ages that will never be brought to life again.”

The explosion of galaxies is violent. A comet falling on Jupiter making seven big holes is violent. The birth of a child is very violent. Someone passing away… it’s immense violence… Life is violent; the circulation of blood, the heart beating, all this is violent. But there are two types of violence: creative and destructive. I am creating art.”

ALCHEMIST

As the alchemists, obsessed with the problem of matter in classically Gnostic terms, sought methods of changing one kind of matter into another (higher, spiritualized) kind of matter, Jodorowsky seeks to create an alchemical arena that operates on the flesh as much as on the spirit.”

What Artaud and Jodorowsky share is an earnest admission of their limitations for political actions as individuals, combined with an insistence on the mutual independence of art and politics.

IF YOU ARE GREAT EL TOPO IS GREAT

If you are great, El Topo is great. If you are limited, El Topo is limited.”

It should be understood as a comment on the state of mind required for the possibility of an alchemical transformation in the viewer whereby instinctual, unconscious thought is rendered serviceable for both psyche and society.

3 Readings of the War of the Worlds

I have had the pleasure of reading H.G. Wells’ “The War of the Worlds” three times at different stages of my life. Each reading offered a unique perspective, reflecting not only my personal growth but also the changing times we live in.

The first time I read the novel was in 1985, during my early teens. At that time, I was fascinated by science fiction and eagerly devoured books that explored the vast universe and the possibility of extraterrestrial life. “The War of the Worlds” was a revelation, presenting an alien invasion that captured my imagination and sent chills down my spine. I was thrilled by the ingenuity of humanity as it fought against the Martian forces, and felt a sense of relief when the Martians were finally defeated by earthly pathogens. To my teenage self, the novel was a thrilling adventure, a page-turner that kept me on the edge of my seat until the very end.

The second time I read the novel was in 2000, during my college years. By that time, my perspective on life had changed, and I approached the novel with a more critical eye. I was struck by the social commentary woven throughout the book, the way Wells used the alien invasion as a metaphor for the colonialism and imperialism that were rampant during his time. I was also struck by the way the novel dealt with the theme of survival, highlighting the resilience of humanity in the face of overwhelming adversity. I found myself appreciating the novel on a deeper level, recognizing the artistry and the message behind the story.

The third time I read the novel was in 2020, during the global COVID-19 pandemic. As I delved into the story once again, I found myself drawn to the theme of contagion and the role it played in the story. I was struck by the irony of the fact that the Martians, with all their advanced technology and weaponry, were ultimately defeated by something as small and invisible as a virus.

In light of the pandemic, I couldn’t help but see the novel as a reflection on the relationship between humanity and the natural world. The Martians, with their advanced technology and weaponry, could represent the destructive forces of industrialization and progress, while the earthly pathogens that ultimately defeat them could symbolize the resilience of the natural world in the face of human intervention. In this reading, the novel takes on a new significance, highlighting the consequences of our actions and the importance of recognizing our place in the world as stewards of the planet.

Reading the novel during this time of uncertainty and fear, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of melancholy at the thought of the devastation that pandemics can wreak on a society. The novel took on a new significance for me, highlighting the fragility of life and the importance of taking care of ourselves and each other.

In conclusion, reading “The War of the Worlds” three times at different stages of my life has given me a deeper appreciation for the novel and the themes it explores. From a thrilling adventure to a social commentary to a poignant reflection on the fragility of life, the novel has evolved with me, reflecting the changing times we live in and the growth I have experienced as a person. It is a testament to the enduring power of literature and its ability to speak to us in different ways at different times in our lives.

The Right to Market Products to Buyers with no Alternative

the right to market their products to buyers who have almost no alternative.

Buffet quotes “Competition may prove hazardous to human wealth” and likes to say the nature of capitalism is that if you’ve got a good business, someone is always wanting to take it away from you and improve on it.”

The ideal business was one that had “high pricing power, a monopoly.” The message is clear: If you invest in a competitive business, you are doing it wrong. Value-investing hordes are searching for stocks with “wide moats” that discourage pesky competitors.

However, businesses without competition (i.e., monopolies) can lose something important in the long run: an incentive to get better. They stop innovating, without any risk in the near term. This is not healthy for anyone.

Culture thrives when open competition encourages producers to deliver the best goods at the lowest prices. It has a cost: some ideas fail. But that is essential, too. It signals better uses should be found for those workers and capital.

The more general argument here is that leading “capitalists” are not really capitalist, particularly when they use political power to stamp out competition. Fake capitalism promotes wealth concentration that leads to economic stagnation, political instability and…

If I was Lenin I’d probably argue, If you are going to bring about socialism, just pretend that nothing is wrong and stay on the current course.

The ultimate aim of these companies is to bankrupt or threaten anybody who tries to operate a real company, one in which entrepreneurs compete by reducing costs by applying a method to materials to make it more valuable than the sum of its parts

Instead, they compete only on access to capital, which they use to manufacture goods worth less than the sum of their parts. You can compare the outcome of this to “Gresham’s law,” which describes how, when counterfeit money is in circulation, “bad money drive out good.”

I mean, if you get a fake coin, you’re trying to spend it as fast as you can because if it gets dtetcted while you have it you will lose. The person you trick into getting the coin always wants to spend it as soon as possible, until the bogus ones are the only coins circulating

This creates and economy where bad businesses drive out good: where running a business that figures out how to make better products at a better price has to compete with businesses that will always underprice a profitable rival to drive them out of the market

Then jack up prices to provide profits so that investors can use to do the trick again and again. Endless money-losing is a variant of counterfeiting, and counterfeiting has dangerous economic consequences.

So if you can counterfeit something for cheap, the counterfeit will eventually take over the entire market and drive out the real commodity. MP3s and then streaming are an early example of this

Aggressive pricing schemes waste resources entirely on money-losing enterprises, and gradually these enterprises become self-dealing Soviet-style generators run by actors playing captains of Industry

“Expired: Offer a service, create a product”.

The meme “Expired: Offer a service, create a product. Tired: Make as much profit and do what’s arguably legal. Wired: artificially change the price of a security with the intent to make a profit. Galaxy Brain: Launder Saudi oil Billions and exit through IPO that offloads companies on suckers” highlights the evolution of unethical business practices, from the traditional model of offering a service or creating a product to the current trend of exploiting legal loopholes for profit. The meme serves as a warning against the dangers of greed and corruption, as individuals and corporations seek to maximize their profits at any cost.

The first stage of the meme, “Expired: Offer a service, create a product,” refers to the traditional business model, where companies create a product or offer a service to meet the needs of their customers. This model prioritizes quality and customer satisfaction, and businesses are rewarded for their efforts with repeat business and positive word-of-mouth referrals. While this model still exists, it is increasingly being overshadowed by the pursuit of profits above all else.

The second stage of the meme, “Tired: Make as much profit and do what’s arguably legal,” reflects the current business landscape, where companies prioritize profits above all else, often at the expense of their customers or the wider community. This mentality has led to a range of unethical practices, from exploiting tax loopholes to avoiding responsibility for environmental damage. While these practices may be technically legal, they are not necessarily moral or ethical.

The third stage of the meme, “Wired: artificially change the price of a security with the intent to make a profit,” highlights the rise of more sophisticated and unethical practices in the financial industry. This includes practices such as insider trading, market manipulation, and other forms of securities fraud. These practices are illegal and can have significant consequences for investors, yet they remain prevalent in the industry.

The final stage of the meme, “Galaxy Brain: Launder Saudi oil Billions and exit through IPO that offloads companies on suckers,” reflects the most extreme and unethical business practices, where individuals and corporations seek to exploit every opportunity for personal gain, even if it means breaking the law or harming others. This stage highlights the dangers of unchecked greed and corruption, where individuals and corporations prioritize their own interests above all else, regardless of the consequences.

In conclusion, the meme “Expired: Offer a service, create a product. Tired: Make as much profit and do what’s arguably legal. Wired: artificially change the price of a security with the intent to make a profit. Galaxy Brain: Launder Saudi oil Billions and exit through IPO that offloads companies on suckers” serves as a warning against the dangers of unchecked greed and corruption in the business world. As individuals and corporations seek to maximize their profits, it is important to remain vigilant against unethical practices that harm the wider community and erode trust in the business world. Ultimately, businesses must strive to balance their pursuit of profits with their responsibility to act in a moral and ethical manner.

Attention

As our world becomes increasingly saturated with content and options for entertainment, it can be difficult to sift through the noise and find something worth watching. The sheer volume of options available can be overwhelming, and the quality of the content itself can be hit or miss. It’s no wonder that many of us find ourselves feeling fatigued and frustrated when trying to find something to watch.

One possible explanation for this feeling is the shift towards user-generated content and the idea that people talking at crosses purposes is a better business model than paying professionals to create movies, books, and music. This trend has been exemplified by platforms like YouTube, which have placed a greater emphasis on the big-n statistical game of user-generated content, rather than betting on a few select horses like traditional streaming services.

While this approach may seem like a cost-effective way to generate content, the reality is that it may be costing us more than we realize. Demand for this type of content remains static, and the quality can be inconsistent at best. It’s true that in the past, advertising has been a reliable way to generate revenue and maintain value even in the face of devalued content. However, even this model may be in jeopardy as consumers become increasingly savvy and resistant to traditional advertising tactics.

So where does that leave us? As consumers, we may need to shift our expectations and approach to content consumption. Rather than relying solely on algorithms and user-generated content, we may need to be more intentional and discerning in our choices. Seeking out trusted sources, reading reviews, and being willing to invest time and attention in finding quality content may be necessary in this new landscape.

Ultimately, the challenge of finding something worth watching may be symptomatic of a larger issue: the commodification of creativity and entertainment. As our attention becomes a valuable commodity, we may need to be more mindful of how we consume and support content creators. By valuing quality over quantity and being willing to invest in the work of artists and creatives, we can help ensure that we continue to have access to meaningful and engaging entertainment for years to come.

Great ideas are not produced by systems designed to produce great ideas

The pursuit of great ideas has been a constant throughout human history. From the ancient philosophers of Greece to the modern innovators of Silicon Valley, people have always sought to push the boundaries of what is possible and create something truly remarkable. However, the process of creating great ideas is not always straightforward, and many have argued that systems designed to produce great ideas are ultimately doomed to fail.

One of the main challenges with systems designed to produce great ideas is that they often prioritize efficiency and productivity over creativity and innovation. In order to produce a large number of ideas quickly, these systems tend to rely on standardized processes and templates that limit the scope of what is possible. This can lead to a situation where the ideas produced are predictable, uninspired, and ultimately unremarkable.

Another challenge with systems designed to produce great ideas is that they can be overly focused on outcomes rather than process. When the goal is to produce a specific outcome, such as a new product or service, the emphasis is often on achieving that goal as quickly and efficiently as possible. However, the creative process is not always linear or predictable, and sometimes the best ideas emerge from unexpected places. By focusing too much on outcomes, we risk missing out on these serendipitous moments of insight and inspiration.

Finally, systems designed to produce great ideas can be stifling to individual creativity and expression. When individuals are expected to adhere to a set of predetermined guidelines or rules, they may feel that their individuality and unique perspective is being stifled. This can lead to a situation where the ideas produced are homogenous and lack the diversity of thought necessary to create truly innovative solutions.

There are many examples of great ideas that have emerged outside of traditional institutions like universities, corporations, record companies, film studios, or publishing houses. Here are a few examples of such ideas:

  1. The printing press: While Johannes Gutenberg is often credited with inventing the printing press, he was not affiliated with any university, corporation, or publishing house when he developed the technology that revolutionized the dissemination of knowledge.
  2. The theory of evolution: Charles Darwin developed the theory of evolution independently while working as a naturalist and geologist, without any institutional support.
  3. The concept of Bitcoin: The digital currency Bitcoin was developed by an unknown person or group going by the pseudonym “Satoshi Nakamoto” and not affiliated with any established financial institution.
  4. The modern bicycle: The modern bicycle, with its chain drive and diamond frame, was developed by a number of inventors working independently in the late 1800s, without any institutional support.
  5. The punk rock movement: The punk rock movement emerged from a DIY ethos, with bands forming outside of established record labels and rejecting the corporate rock establishment.
  6. The Open Source software movement: The open source software movement, which has produced a wide range of innovative and groundbreaking technologies, is characterized by a decentralized and collaborative approach that values creativity and innovation over efficiency and productivity.
  7. The Harlem Renaissance: The Harlem Renaissance was a flowering of African American culture in the early 20th century, characterized by literary, artistic, and musical innovation that emerged outside of established cultural institutions.
  8. The Beat Generation: The Beat Generation, a group of writers and poets who rejected mainstream culture and celebrated non-conformity and individualism, emerged outside of established publishing houses and literary institutions.
  9. The Maker movement: The Maker movement, which emphasizes DIY creativity and innovation, has produced a wide range of new technologies and products that have emerged outside of established corporations and manufacturing processes.
  10. The invention of the modern skateboard: The modern skateboard was developed by a group of surfers in California in the 1950s and 60s, who repurposed roller skates to create a new kind of rideable.
  11. The emergence of the modern environmental movement: The modern environmental movement emerged in the 1960s and 70s from grassroots organizations and activists who were concerned about pollution, conservation, and environmental justice.
  12. The development of hip hop music: Hip hop music emerged from African American and Latino communities in New York City in the 1970s, as DJs, MCs, and dancers developed a new style of music and dance that blended funk, soul, and other genres.
  13. The growth of the organic food movement: The organic food movement emerged from a desire to promote sustainable agriculture, reduce reliance on pesticides and herbicides, and improve public health.
  14. The creation of the video game industry: The video game industry emerged from a combination of hobbyist and entrepreneurial efforts, as early developers experimented with new technologies and gameplay mechanics.
  15. The rise of podcasting: Podcasting emerged as a way for independent creators to produce and distribute their own audio content, without the need for traditional radio or broadcasting infrastructure.
  16. The development of the first personal computer: The first personal computers were developed by hobbyists and entrepreneurs in the 1970s, who saw the potential for a new kind of computing device that could be used by individuals in their homes and offices.
  17. The founding of Wikipedia: Wikipedia was founded by Jimmy Wales and Larry Sanger as a way to create a free, online encyclopedia that could be edited and maintained by anyone.

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Slippery Slope Transactions

As the world continues to grapple with the COVID-19 pandemic, many countries are eager to reopen their economies and return to some semblance of normalcy. However, the rush to reopen may be based on a flawed understanding of how our economy and society function, particularly with regards to what are known as “slippery slope transactions.”

Slippery slope transactions are those in which the average person does not really need a significant increase in effectiveness or performance for the product or service being sold. These transactions often rely on impulse buys or the manipulation of consumer behavior, rather than a genuine need or desire for the product. In the context of the COVID-19 pandemic, this can be seen in the rush to reopen businesses and public spaces, despite the continued risk of infection and transmission.

The costs of highjacking back the signal that once reliably correlated with impulse buys, particularly in terms of health and happiness, are likely to be significant. This means that even if people are willing to take the risk and return to pre-pandemic behaviors, there may be lasting consequences in terms of public health and wellbeing.

Moreover, the rush to reopen may also exacerbate existing inequalities and injustices in our society. Those who are most vulnerable to the effects of the pandemic, such as low-income and marginalized communities, are also the ones who are likely to bear the brunt of the costs of reopening too early. This includes not only the risks of infection and illness, but also the economic and social impacts of a potentially prolonged pandemic.

In short, the hurry to reopen may be driven by a flawed understanding of our economy and society, and the costs of highjacking back the signals of health and happiness may be too high to bear. As we continue to navigate the complexities of the COVID-19 pandemic, it is important that we approach the issue with mindfulness, compassion, and a commitment to the wellbeing of all members of our society. Only by working together can we hope to overcome this crisis and emerge stronger and more resilient on the other side.

Downhill Thinking

Human beings have always been creatures of habit. We tend to do things the same way repeatedly until we develop a sense of familiarity and comfort with those actions. This tendency applies to every aspect of our lives, including our thinking patterns. Some people find that their thinking works best when designed to run downhill, meaning that they prefer to work with their natural tendencies rather than against them. This approach to thinking has a number of advantages, and in this essay, we will explore why loose thinking lasts longer and functions better.

When we say that thinking works best when designed to run downhill, we mean that it is more effective when we work with our natural tendencies. For example, some people are naturally more creative and imaginative, while others are more analytical and detail-oriented. If someone who is naturally creative is forced to work in a highly structured and analytical environment, they may struggle to produce their best work. Similarly, if someone who is naturally analytical is forced to work in a chaotic and unstructured environment, they may struggle to stay focused and produce their best work.

By designing our thinking to run downhill, we can harness the power of our natural tendencies and work more efficiently and effectively. For example, if we know that we are more productive in the morning, we can schedule our most important tasks for that time of day. Similarly, if we know that we are more creative when we are relaxed and comfortable, we can create an environment that promotes relaxation and comfort.

One of the key advantages of designing our thinking to run downhill is that loose thinking lasts longer. When we are working in a way that feels natural and comfortable, we are more likely to stay engaged and focused for longer periods of time. This means that we are more likely to produce high-quality work and achieve our goals. Conversely, when we are working against our natural tendencies, we are more likely to become frustrated, tired, and disengaged. This can lead to burnout and a decrease in productivity over time.

In addition to lasting longer, loose thinking also functions better. When we are working in a way that feels natural and comfortable, we are able to access our full range of cognitive abilities. This means that we are more likely to be creative, analytical, and innovative, depending on the task at hand. When we are working against our natural tendencies, we may struggle to access certain aspects of our cognitive abilities, which can limit our potential.

To design our thinking to run downhill, we need to be aware of our natural tendencies and preferences. This requires self-reflection and self-awareness. We can also seek feedback from others to gain a better understanding of how we work best. Once we have identified our natural tendencies, we can create an environment and a work style that supports those tendencies. This may include things like scheduling our work around our most productive times, creating a comfortable and relaxing workspace, and using tools and techniques that support our preferred way of working.

In conclusion, designing our thinking to run downhill can have a significant impact on our productivity, creativity, and overall well-being. By working with our natural tendencies rather than against them, we can stay engaged and focused for longer periods of time, access our full range of cognitive abilities, and achieve our goals more effectively. While it may take some effort to identify our natural tendencies and create a work style that supports them, the benefits are well worth it in the long run.

Suit With Vested Interests (TV Tropes)

 

                

“In [Jaws], you will recall, the danger of shark attacks was concealed by venal real estate speculators who didn’t want to scare the buyers away. That’s the case this time, too; The Realtor throws a party for prospective home buyers and denies that there are piranhas in the lake until most of his would-be buyers have been digested. Implausible, you say? Try telling that to the piranhas. Next, I am anticipating a movie called Realtor.”

— Roger Ebert on Piranha

If you’ve seen a Disaster Movie or Monster Movie, you’ve probably seen this trope. There’s an oncoming disaster and The Hero is trying to get everyone to see the Cassandra Truth. Problem is that there’s this one guy, a businessman in a nice suit, involved with something that’s going to suffer if the disaster comes about. He’ll argue against people believing the hero or the Ignored Expert, he’ll try to convince people that they are safe with his product, he’ll focus on the potential rather than the safety, and he’ll try to stop word from getting further so that the stock prices don’t sink, all while the boat does.

The vested interest varies with each story. He could be the owner of the project that is actively causing the disaster or whose destruction is the disaster. On the other hand, it could just be that they would lose a lot of money from the Attack of the Town Festival. In fact, in the Attack of the Town Festival, expect this role to be played by the mayor. Finally, the best way to really up their villainy and corruption is for them to actually try to profit off the disaster when faced with the truth, with the disaster itself becoming the vested interest.

Similarly, his portrayal and motivation varies. He could be an outright Corrupt Corporate Executive who believes the disaster and just doesn’t care, or simply so emotionally invested in what he has that he can’t bring himself to face the truth. The latter tends to resonate better and appear more realistic to audiences, as well as having a natural connection to the common theme in disaster movies of Mankind vs. His Folly.

He can be either an old set-in-his-ways businessman, or a young, up-and-coming-with-a-lot-to-prove, charming guy. Pretty much Always Male due to the age of these movies, the characters, the nature of the flaw, and the Love Interest occasionally starting off as his and then changing over to the hero. By the way, the old guy vs. young buck choice tends to work as a foil to the hero.

He’ll often be the Doomed Contrarian and get finally called out as Lethally Stupid. Compare Death by Materialism.

The first great advertising campaign was more than just a sales pitch—it was the collective hallucination of an entire nation, a grand seduction that convinced a critical mass to Potemkin the very idea of America. It wasn’t about selling soap or cigarettes; it was about selling a dream, an illusion so potent that it seared itself into the DNA of every man, woman, and child who dared to cross the Atlantic or be born on its shores. The campaign was a savage testament to the power of belief, a psychotropic cocktail that spiked the national consciousness and led to the selective breeding of true believers.

Natural selection in this mad experiment didn’t favor the strong or the wise, but the gullible, the easily swayed, those who could be hypnotized by the flicker of a TV screen or the siren call of a jingle. They became the chosen ones, the ones who made it through the crucible of advertising and emerged on the other side, ready to swallow the next big lie. These survivors of the commercial apocalypse are not the masters of discernment; they don’t dig for truth in the rocky soil of reality. No, they’re a different breed, one that thrives on the fantastical and the absurd, hovering somewhere on the spectrum between the rational and the irrational, never quite landing on either.

We’ve become a nation of shape-shifters, gliding between overlapping domains of reality and advertising, like travelers hopping between trains on some godforsaken subway line, not quite sure which one will take them home. The borders between these domains are porous, and the fare is cheap; the ticket taker is blind and the map is a lie. But who needs a map when you’ve got belief? And belief, my friend, is the most powerful currency in this lunatic economy. It’s not pegged to gold or oil or anything you can touch or hold. It’s pegged to the collective willingness to suspend disbelief, to embrace the fictions that make life bearable.

Evolution, in its infinite wisdom—or perverse sense of humor—has equipped us with the uncanny ability to believe anything we damn well please. Facts be damned, we’ll twist reality until it screams if it means keeping our illusions intact. And when the continuum of reality and advertising gets too tangled, too messy, well, we’ll fix it in post. We’ll airbrush the mistakes, cut out the ugly parts, and make it look just right for the final cut. Because in the end, it’s not the truth that matters, but the story we choose to tell ourselves, the narrative that keeps the wheels spinning and the lights on.

And you know what? I’m actually fine with this. Because in a world where reality is just another construct, where the lines between fact and fiction have blurred into oblivion, what else is there to do but embrace the madness? Strap in, swallow the pill, and ride the wave of collective delusion all the way to the bitter end. It’s the American way, after all.

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It’s a balance, sure, but let’s not kid ourselves—it’s not a stretch to say that our wishes, our inclinations, and the “dictates of our passions” are constantly reshaping the state of facts and evidence. It’s not some grand conspiracy; it’s just the natural byproduct of a culture that has enshrined extreme cognitive liberty and the pursuit of happiness as its highest commandments. We are the architects of our own realities, our collective imagination the mortar holding together this fragile edifice of shared experience.

We’re still at it today, shamelessly connecting unrelated events, weaving narratives out of thin air, despite the absence of any plausible causal link. It’s the same old trick, the same mental sleight of hand, only now we’ve traded the campfires and whispers for pixels and algorithms. We stitch together the fragments of our lives, the headlines that catch our eye, the tweets that make us nod in agreement, and we call it truth. We’re magicians in a world where the only rule is that the audience has to want to be fooled.

But every now and then, reality rears its ugly head and smashes our illusions to pieces. These are the periods of adjustment, the moments when the cognitive dissonance becomes so unbearable that we’re forced to rewrite the script. We can’t just sweep it under the rug—oh no, we have to get creative. This is where retroactive continuity comes in, the art of retconning the past to fit the present. We look back and say, ‘Remember when we said this? We screwed up, forget about that,’ as if we could erase the past with a well-placed edit.

Retroactive continuity—there’s a term for you. It sounds almost clinical, like a surgical procedure or a legal maneuver, but it’s anything but. It’s the narrative equivalent of rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic, pretending that the iceberg was always part of the plan. It’s a tool of survival, a way to bend the past to serve a current plot need, to make sense of a world that refuses to conform to our desires. And we do it all the time, with history, with politics, with our own personal stories. We’re constantly retconning our lives, rewriting our memories to suit the person we’ve become, or the person we wish we were.

The beauty of it is that we’re so good at it, so practiced, that we don’t even notice we’re doing it. It’s just another part of the game, another trick in the magician’s toolbox. And in a world where facts are malleable, where truth is whatever you can convince others to believe, why shouldn’t we play fast and loose with the past? After all, if we can rewrite history to align with our current narrative, then we can keep the story going, keep the illusion alive just a little bit longer.

But the danger is always there, lurking in the shadows. Because the more we retcon, the more we warp the continuum, the more we risk losing touch with any semblance of a shared reality. We might wake up one day to find that the world we’ve constructed is nothing but a house of cards, teetering on the brink of collapse, and when it falls, there’ll be no fixing it in post. But until then, we’ll keep spinning our stories, keep connecting the dots, keep believing that we can bend the past to fit the present, and that somehow, it’ll all work out in the end. Because what else can we do? It’s the only way we know how to live.

Retcon—TV Tropes, Retroactive Continuity. Reframing past events to serve a current plot need. The ideal retcon clarifies a question alluded to without adding excessive new questions. In its most basic form, this is any tweak, twist, or outright rewrite that tries to patch the holes in a narrative. But we’ve become connoisseurs of the retcon, haven’t we? We don’t just patch the holes; we reconstruct the entire narrative tapestry, weaving in new threads where the old ones frayed, no matter how tenuous or absurd the connections might be. When that fails, we reach for the Ass Pull—a moment when we yank a solution out of thin air, defying logic and violating the Law of Conservation of Detail with a kind of reckless abandon. It’s storytelling on the edge, an improvisation that begs the audience to suspend disbelief just a little bit longer.

This post-truth collapse we’re living through is the ultimate magnification of those instincts and impulses that have been shimmering in this country from the very beginning. We’ve always been a nation of improvisers, of storytellers who can’t resist the urge to twist the narrative, to retcon history to fit our current needs. But what was once a subtle art has now become a sledgehammer, smashing through the barriers of truth and fiction until all that’s left is a haze of competing realities, each one more far-fetched than the last.

It’s always been closer to “it’s my way or the highway” in America, but the beauty of the old days was that there was always an infinity of highways, branching out in every direction, leading to new places where you could maybe try something else, start fresh, spin a new story. If you didn’t like one version of the truth, you could just pack up and find another, set up camp in a new reality where the facts aligned with your desires. The frontier was more than just a physical space; it was a psychological playground, a blank slate for endless retcons and ass pulls.

But something’s changed. The highways that used to stretch out into the horizon now seem to lead nowhere. They loop back on themselves, leading us in circles, trapping us in a never-ending cycle of retcons and reboots, each one more desperate than the last. So what happened this time? Where did all the highways go? How did we get stuck in this endless feedback loop, where every attempt to rewrite the narrative only tightens the noose?

Maybe we’ve finally run out of room. Maybe the retcons have piled up so high that there’s no more space for new ones, no more cracks to paper over. The highways didn’t disappear; they just got buried under the weight of too many stories, too many conflicting realities all fighting for supremacy. Or maybe the highways are still out there, but we’ve lost the will to find them. We’ve grown too comfortable in our constructed realities, too invested in the stories we’ve told ourselves, to venture out into the unknown and risk discovering that the truth is something we can’t control, something that won’t bend to our will no matter how hard we try.

Whatever the reason, we’re trapped now, boxed in by our own narratives, with no clear way out. The retcons have become a prison, and the highways that once promised freedom now feel like dead ends. And the most terrifying part? We might be fine with it. We might prefer the comfort of our illusions to the uncertainty of the open road. After all, as long as we can keep rewriting the past, who needs a future?

The HIGHWAY IS IN OIR HEADS

The simple answer is that now, the highways are in our heads. We’ve internalized the vast, sprawling networks that once stretched across the land, turning them inward, folding them into the labyrinth of our own minds. These highways aren’t made of asphalt and steel but of gray matter and white matter, the biological infrastructure that powers our thoughts, our dreams, our every perception of reality.

Gray matter is where the heavy lifting happens, where our brains compute, analyze, and process the world around us. White matter, on the other hand, is the connective tissue, the highways that allow the gray-matter hubs to communicate, to share information, to collaborate in the endless task of making sense of our existence. But just as a single traffic jam can gridlock an entire city, a single damaged white-matter highway can shut down whole swathes of cognitive and emotional processes. One blocked route, one severed connection, and suddenly the mind’s internal landscape is thrown into chaos, leaving us stranded in the mental equivalent of a ghost town.

These internal highways serve a critical purpose—they are the import/export routes for our natural fantasies, the pathways through which our deepest desires and wildest imaginings travel. They are the neural networks that transform abstract thoughts into coherent narratives, converting raw data into the stories we live by. But unlike the old highways, where the destination was always just over the next hill, these mental roads lead us to places that aren’t always what we hoped they’d be.

The hypotheses of these mental journeys are falsifiable, grounded in a reality that won’t bend to our will no matter how fervently we might wish otherwise. There’s no gold at the end of the road, no shortcuts to the truths we seek. There’s no such thing as a free lunch—not in the mind, not in the world. You might be able to make a living, but probably in the same way you did before, grinding away at the same old tasks, following the same worn paths in the hope of finding something new.

So here’s the real question: Do you accept the reformation without the Renaissance? Can you stomach the idea of a world where the highways in your head take you on endless loops, promising enlightenment but delivering only the same old grind? The highways are in your head, yes, but they are not boundless, not infinite. They come with their own tolls, their own detours, and they offer no guarantees of a grand destination.

You’re entitled to your own realities—each one of us is free to map out our internal highways as we see fit. But be warned: these realities won’t just vanish when you stop believing in them. They linger, like ghosts on the highway, like potholes you can’t avoid. The roads you build in your mind become part of you, shaping the way you see the world, the way you live your life. You can try to retcon them, rewrite them, even pave over them, but they’ll always be there, just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to rise up and remind you of where you’ve been.

In the end, the highways in our heads are both our salvation and our curse—a portmanteau of progress and stagnation, freedom and confinement. They offer us the chance to explore new worlds, but only if we’re willing to face the ones we’ve already built. So keep driving, keep dreaming, but don’t forget to watch the road. The highways may be in your head, but the journey is as real as it gets.

THE ENLIGHTENMENT

But the Enlightenment, for all its promise and grandeur, was a double-edged sword. It cut through the dogma and superstition that had held humanity in a chokehold for centuries, liberating minds from the iron grip of religion. But in that same stroke, it unleashed a torrent of thought—true, false, right, wrong, decent, evil, rational, crazy, implausible, clever, dumb—into the world. The Enlightenment wasn’t just about celebrating reason; it was about granting permission to the full spectrum of human thought, from the most absurd and untrue to the most sensible and factual. It was a revolution of the mind, but revolutions are messy, and the Enlightenment left us with a Pandora’s box of ideas, all clamoring for attention.

The champions of the Enlightenment believed that in the long run, reason would prevail. They put their faith in the marketplace of ideas, trusting that it would function like a Darwinian battleground where only the fittest concepts survived. They assumed that ideologies would be subjected to the rigors of rational scrutiny, that the false and the absurd would be weeded out, leaving only the truth standing. It was a grand experiment, the ultimate bet on human rationality, on the belief that, given enough time, people would naturally gravitate toward the best, most logical conclusions.

But what they didn’t account for was the chaotic nature of freedom itself. The marketplace of ideas, like any other market, is subject to whims, trends, and the occasional hostile takeover. Ideas don’t just rise or fall based on their inherent truth or falsity—they succeed or fail based on how well they resonate with the human psyche, with our desires, fears, and prejudices. And in a world where anything goes, where all thoughts are given equal standing, the rational is often drowned out by the irrational, the sensible by the sensational.

The Enlightenment’s architects assumed that truth would naturally float to the top, but they didn’t foresee the rise of the noise, the clamor of countless competing voices each claiming their own piece of the truth. In this cacophony, the line between truth and fiction, between reason and madness, has blurred to the point of invisibility. The marketplace of ideas hasn’t culled the inferior; it has merely amplified the loudest.

So here we are, in a world where the Enlightenment’s promise has been twisted into a parody of itself. Freedom of thought has become freedom to believe anything, and in this new reality, truth is just another commodity, traded and discarded as quickly as yesterday’s news. The Enlightenment gave us the tools to build a rational world, but it also gave us the means to destroy it, to replace it with a labyrinth of competing realities, each more fantastical than the last.

And perhaps that’s the real legacy of the Enlightenment: not the triumph of reason, but the triumph of choice—the ability to choose our own reality, our own truth, regardless of how it stands up to the facts. In the end, the Enlightenment didn’t free us from the clutches of religion; it merely replaced one set of beliefs with another, leaving us to navigate the highways of our own minds, searching for a destination that might not even exist.

Following Kant’s injunction to “think for yourself,” and with the Enlightenment triumphant, science ascendant, and tolerance required, a different kind of advertising was free to show itself in America—a land that was marketed not just as a nation of opportunity but as an enchanted realm, swarming with supernatural wonders. It was a place where the lines between the rational and the irrational blurred into a kaleidoscope of beliefs, where alchemy, astrology, the occult, freemasonry, magnetic healing, and prophetic visions were all given space to thrive.

America, in this fantastical narrative, became something akin to the early-first-century Holy Land, teeming with roaming prophets, healers, and witches. It was a place where miracles could happen, where the mundane was overlaid with the mystical, and where every plot of land could harbor untold riches. The fantasy that the land was studded with buried loot—old Spanish or Indian gold, tranches of robbers’ cash, lost jewels—was not just a folk tale but a driving force of settlement and exploration. Gold seekers, Puritans, and delusion-fueled adventurers set out across the continent, each chasing their own particular dream, often to their ruin, but sometimes to wild success.

And there was profit to be made in indulging these fantasies. America became a breeding ground for con men and visionaries alike, each one ready to cater to the latest craze. The markets for gold rushes, Puritanical fervor, satanic panics, religious deliriums, Mormonism, homesteading on the prairie, and the westward expansion were all just different flavors of the same basic scam: selling dreams to the desperate. If you had a fantasy, America was the place to live it out, no matter how improbable.

The Bible itself became fertile ground for this new American dream. If you think of the Bible as historical fiction, then it’s not a stretch to see figures like Joseph Smith as authors of a kind of Biblical fan fiction, spinning new tales from the old, recasting ancient narratives into the American landscape. In this light, Mormonism becomes less a religious movement and more a fantastical reimagining, a Don Quixote-esque quest in a land where the lines between history, myth, and reality were never firmly drawn. Smith’s Book of Mormon was America’s own Quixote of Avellaneda, a rival text that took the Biblical narrative and transplanted it into a new world, filled with “literal” Israeli émigrés, reimagined as settlers of the American West.

And why not? After all, the Bible, in its own way, pointed towards America—imagining cities upon hills, a “Promised Land” at least metaphorically akin to Jerusalem. For many settlers, this wasn’t just metaphorical; they saw the American frontier as a literal second Holy Land, destined to be the center of a reborn Christian world. The idea of a new kingdom rising in the American West wasn’t just a fantasy; it was, for many, a religious imperative, a continuation of the divine mission that began in the deserts of the Middle East and was now being fulfilled in the plains and mountains of the New World.

In this way, America wasn’t just a land of opportunity; it was a land of infinite possibility, where reality itself could be bent to fit the desires and delusions of its inhabitants. It was a place where the Enlightenment’s call to “think for yourself” had been taken to its most extreme, where every man was his own prophet, and every belief, no matter how absurd, was given the space to flourish. The highways of America were more than just roads—they were the paths to a thousand different realities, each one more fantastical than the last, and each one as real as any other, so long as you believed in it.

38 WIVES

Some would redefine Heaven in a mostly sci-fi way. In this vision, you’re not just one of a mass of a billion indistinguishable souls floating in some ethereal netherworld; instead, you are the king or queen of your own personal planetary fiefdom, a resurrected immortal physical being ruling over your celestial domain. This version of the afterlife appeals to a distinctly modern sensibility—where individualism reigns supreme, and Heaven isn’t just a place of spiritual contentment, but a universe where you are the center of it all.

In this uniquely American vision, the boundary between fantasy and reality was porous. Religious leaders who claimed divine revelation felt compelled to obey long-standing commands to become polygamous or face divine retribution. Some took this to extreme lengths—marrying 32 women in just two years, with 8 of those marriages occurring during a single three-month period, and 6 of those brides being teenagers. Yet, even amidst this frenzied pursuit of a “holy” mandate, the same men could turn around and run for president, boasting that they had kept their followers more loyal than Jesus had managed with his disciples.

America was, in many ways, built by people who were LARPing—engaging in live-action role-play, immune to fact checks, and convinced that they had exclusive access to the facts. It was a place designed to blur the line between the fictional and the real world, where players could fully immerse themselves in their characters’ goals within a setting that was no less real for being imagined.

In this environment, you could “rise up,” channel the Holy Spirit, be born again instantly, and be rewarded with an eternal afterlife, all while new technologies like high-speed travel, the telegraph, and photography were making “technology indistinguishable from magic.” The very concept of reality was flexible, and with the right beliefs—or the right tools—you could reshape it entirely.

You could communicate with ghosts through Morse code, and the advent of electrical transatlantic communication was taken as “proof” of the possibility of communication between two worlds: the living and the dead. The boundaries between the natural and the supernatural, the real and the imagined, were dissolving in the face of rapid technological advancement and fervent belief. In America, the distinction between Heaven and Earth, the mortal and the divine, was as thin as a telegraph wire and just as charged with possibility.

TO BR CONTINUED